#better late than never... huffs and puffs...

[ilyhaitanii]

secrets, sex, cigarettes ft. ran haitani

nsfw. mentions of ran killing a man, nipple play, overstimulating, ran is very sappy towards the end, a bit angsty (srry this is kinda bad i just word vomited)

the sun has been set for hours now, the moon and night sky replacing the daylight. for hours ran has stood by the balcony, dragging a cigarette from his lips. in and out, huff and puff. he feels the cigar burning his lungs fron the inside out, yet that feeling is better than feeling numb.

he’s killed a man, again. nothing too uncommon with him anymore, but a part of him still can’t let go of the sheer disgust that controls his body after he does it. he knows exactly what to do, how to stage a death, how to hide bodies, etc. it’s all a second nature to him, yet he always finds himself back in your shared bedroom with a cig between his fingers.

your arms loop around his waist, dragging your nails up his chest. you sigh as you press your cheek to his toned back. for a moment, ran wants to tell you all the horrible things he does, how many men he kills, how he tortures them. yet, he wants you to keep the angelic, perfect image of him in your mind. perhaps it’s his ego, his need for people to adore him, so the words never escape his lips.

“what’s wrong, baby?” you say in that sweet toned voice of yours. ran evidently relaxes, smushing the cigar into the tray. ran feels your hands rubbing up and down his torso, tracing the lines of his tattoos. he feels your nails satisfyingly scratch at his skin.

he leans back, pressing his back towards your front. his head tilts back with a smile on his face. he feels your hands dragging lower and he quickly grabs them, turning to pin you against the railing.

“hi honey. ya need somethin’ from me?” his low, sickly sweet voice rings through your ears, sending goosebumps down your spine. his hands rest on your hips, nose rubbing into your neck. he leaves small kisses on your ears, trailing them down to the curve of your shoulder.

ran smells of smoke and bourbon. he’s not a heavy drinker like rindou— ran doesn’t enjoy bitter tastes and would rather indulge in the sweeter things in life. his cologne mixed with the heavy smell of tobacco makes you realize how horrible his mood truly is.

ran tends to hide his bad moods from you. he’ll drown himself in cigarettes and alcohol to cool himself off before he faces you. he can’t bare to ever upset you. it would truly break his heart. you tangle your fingers into his hair, racking them down his back. with your nails scratching his skin, ran breaks out into a shiver. he loves that feeling. he loves your hands on him.

“i just missed you,” you tend to try and drown him in your presence rather than things that can shorten his life span— his time with you. ran does find you taste a lot sweeter than the bourbon or cigarettes he nurses in his hands as he leans down to kiss you. he can taste the fresh mangos on your tongue. you’re such a thief, those were his.

“i miss you too, dolly.” he says, slightly smirking as he watches you melt into his body. your fingers trace down his torso and chest, watching his eyes follow your hands. they brush against the buckle of his pants and ran cocks an eyebrow at you.

“ya need something from me?” he proceeds to kiss your flushed cheeks, further teasing you. he’s so mean. you shake your head, giggling into the crook of his neck. you’re so cute.

“yeah i do,” you reply, smiling against his skin.

“and what would that be?” his hands lock with yours, resting on your sides.

“you in bed. it’s late,” you whisper in his ear, tugging at his lobe. “i’d like my husband to warm it up for me. the bed is so cold without him.”

“really?” every time you express how much you want ran, he’s always shocked. his voice slightly waivers at the end, thinking this was all a dream, all some sick joke his brain was playing on him. you smile up at ran, cupping his face in your hands.

“please come to bed, ran. i want you,” your arms loop around his neck as you take a step back, pulling him with you. his lips smash onto yours, hauling your legs around his waist. ran walks you into your bedroom, abandoning the balcony. he lays you onto the bed, keeping himself slotted between your legs.

ran does not stop kissing you. his hands grip at the hem of your nightdress, lifting it above your head. the pink and black lace of your underwear catches his attention. your face flushes at his uncharacteristic forwardness. ran lifts your ankles up to his lips, kissing down your calves. his eyes are closed during the whole ordeal allowing himself to melt into the expanse of your soft skin.

ran’s fingers toy with the pretty bow on the center of your panties. he smiles at you as he dips down, kissing you once more. he deftly pulls off your bra, fingers tweaking with your nipples. your jaw hangs open, soft gasps pushing ran to do even more. his lips lock around your nipples, his tongue swirling around the bud. you squirm in his hold, the cold sir from the balcony causing your body to shiver.

ran doesn’t neglect the other bud though as his fingers tug and twist at it. he grinds himself against your clothes cunt, moaning against your skin. his mouth pulls off your body with a pop. his hands run up the sides of your body, slightly tickling you. ran kneels between your legs with his hands parting your thighs. he watches at the stain on your panties grows bigger the longer his thumb rubs at your clit through the cloth.

“she’s so wet for me, isn’t she honey?” ran kisses the outline of your clit, making your hips squirm. he shushes you, his thumbs rubbing at your hips. “don’t run away from it. it’ll feel so good,” he finally slides the lacy underwear down your legs, watching your slick stick to it. he coos at the sight, making you cover your face. you turn onto your stomach, raising your hips against ran’s bulge.

he smiles, rubbing your hips with his thumbs, rubbing his free hand up and down your spine. he unbuckles his belt, freeing himself from his underwear. it slaps against his torso, the angry red tip leaking. he lines himself up with your hole. you whine against the pillow, begging for him to hurry.

“shh, be patient, my love.” he kisses the middle of your spine, before pushing himself all the way in. you instantly tighten around him, mewling into the sheets. he doesn’t bother to pull out again and simply grinds himself against your most sensitive spot.

your hips twitch in his hold, pulling yourself higher onto the bed. ran slams you back towards him, hips flush against yours.

“uh, uh. stay still,” he immediately pulls out, leaving the thick tip inside. he then slams back in, keeping this rhythm. you grab at the sheets, drooling into the sheets. your hand reaches behind you to grab at ran’s.

“please, it’s too mu- oh my god!” ran’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling your back to his chest. he continues to thrust into your as your head rolls onto his shoulder. “fuck, ran. this is too much. i can’t,” you sob and whine.

you feel yourself getting closer to the edge, eyes rolling back into your head. ran fuck you so good to the point you can’t think. ran reached forward to rub your clit. that pushes you over the edge so hard. you cum around his dick, silently screaming.

ran is so much rougher than usual. a mix of his frustrations, and drunken daze makes him like this. sure, the two of you will definitely talk about this later, but you enjoy it to the fullest. “you can take it, baby. take it, pretty girl.” his hands tug at your hair as he continues to rut against you. you continue to moan and squeal.

“fuck, baby. you’re so fucking cute. squealing and squirming around me, huh?” ran watches your hand grab at the sheets again. he groans into your ears, panting and heaving. he feels your cunt tighten around him again and he knows you’re so close to cumming.

you’re horribly sensitive, twitching and sobbing. but, ran keeps fucking you, turning you onto your back. his hands grab at your waist, his cock thrusting in and out. your arms loop around his neck, scratching at his shoulders and back.

“ran, please!” you repeat his name like you’re hypnotized, tears rolling down your cheeks. ran gently kisses your tears away. it’s a complete 180 from his previous behavior, but it’s warmly welcomed. “ran,” you whine his name. as he continues fucking into you, he says your name back.

“ran, i love you. i love you so much,” your fingers tug at his hair as you cum one last time before ran is spilling his seed into you. you feel warm and full, brain fuzzy. you cling onto ran as he calms himself down from his high. his lips find your again, thumb rubbing at your tears.

“i love you,” ran mumbles in between kisses. “i love you. i love you. i love you.” he keeps repeating this over and over. his hips buck up into you, making you squeal again. “one more time, baby. i love you, please, one more time?”

ran watches you nod your head. he kisses you like he’s crazy, hands in your hair, pulling your body closer to his. ran wants to stay here with you forever. he never wants to leave the comfort of your apartment, your arms, your shared bed. he never wants to leave you. ran wants to do better, he wants to quit. but ran realizes if he were to tell you the truth, would his paradise come crashing down? he couldn’t live with that. so for now, ran haitani will keep his lips sealed. only allowing words of adoration towards you escape them. he’ll keep this secret til either he dies or you find out.

© ilyhaitanii - please do not repost, translate, or plagarize any of my content, and do not repost it to any other platforms

#ran x reader #ran x you #ran x y/n #ran fluff #ran smut #ran tokyo revengers #// ran <3 #its 1 am and i just wanted to write. #im. so sorry this us so bad compared to my #orther things

[mamawasatesttube]

Ouuugh so many good options, i suppose 9 or 15 for the prompts

9. "It will be better in the morning."

"I've decided," Tim announces, "that I have a cure for nightmares."

He doesn't look like he's in much of a position to be announcing any kind of breakthrough; he's swaddled in a throw blanket and curled up against Kon's chest, his hair impressively disheveled and his cheeks still a little blotchy from tears. He kind of reminds Kon of one of those baby chicks that've just hatched and are mad about it, with the barely-dried downy fuzz sticking every which way. The yellow lamplight glimmers in his eyes as he peeps up at Kon's face, expectant.

Kon hums. Purrs louder as he keeps rocking the recliner back and forth, slow and gentle. "Is it drinking your hot chocolate and listening to Car Talk until you fall back asleep?"

Tim scoffs. "No." He pauses, wrinkling his nose a little. "I mean. I'll drink the hot chocolate, since you made it for me and all. But no. I'm simply never gonna sleep ever again. Foolproof."

Kon snorts, scrunching his hand through Tim's hair. Tim takes a soft breath, only a little shaky, and then smushes his face into the crook of Kon's neck again. His breath tickles a little against Kon's skin.

"Babe," Kon says. "Sorry to break it to you, but you literally fall asleep on me every single movie night. You're, like, the archetypical dad from every single tweet about dads who fall asleep five minutes into movies. And you aren't even an actual dad."

Tim huffs, a tiny puff of token offense. "I could change." His fingers curl into Kon's shirt. "Can't have a flashback in your sleep if you never sleep again."

"Yeah, you'll just start having sleep deprivation hallucinations." Kon kisses the top of his head. It's late enough it's almost early; he stifles a yawn. The last thing he wants is for Tim to feel guiltier than he already does for keeping him up. "Besides, you love sleeping."

Tim heaves a great, despondent sigh. "I do love sleeping," he admits, a little morose. "Sucks when sleeping doesn't love me back."

"I love you back," Kon coos.

He can feel Tim's lips quirk into a tiny smile against his collarbone. "You're such a giant cheese," Tim mumbles. He doesn't say it back, not with words, but the brush of his lips in the tiniest whisper of a kiss tells Kon everything loud and clear.

Kon purrs a little harder. He likes having Tim here, bundled up in his arms. Likes knowing he makes him feel safer. Likes that he can make him smile after he woke up screaming. "Too bad you're lactose intolerant, huh?"

"I already took my Lactaid to drink the hot chocolate, so shut up." Kon just knows he's rolling his eyes.

"Speaking of which, it's probably a good temperature now," Kon says, and wraps his TTK around the mug to float it over from the side table. "Here."

Tim's hands creep out of the throw blanket to wrap around the mug. He shifts in Kon's arms and sighs again, sitting up to take a tiny sip. His face already looks a little better, cheeks a little less flushed. "Mm. Yeah," he agrees. "...Thanks."

"Always." Kon gives him a gentle squeeze. "Drink up, and then we can just chill before we go back to bed. It'll be better in the morning."

"Mn." Tim makes a noncommittal noise. But he does keep sipping his hot chocolate, and his heart rate is a lot closer to baseline than it was a little while ago. "Guess so."

He twists in Kon's arms suddenly, cups Kon's jaw in one hand, and kisses him. Kon melts like sugar in the rain, the way he always does when Tim kisses him. Tim's lips are a little chapped. He tastes of cocoa and marshmallow fluff.

Tim breaks that kiss, then bumps his nose against Kon's, a silent gesture of gratitude. He blinks at him once, then goes back to his hot chocolate.

Kon smiles and holds him just a bit tighter. The marshmallows on Tim's mouth are definitely sweet, but he can think of something sweeter.

#peacheel #timkon #im not fully satisfied with the premise on this one but it did make me think!!! #sleep flashbacks (slashbacks. if you will) are evil #but also man... today im in such a mood for writing cuddles. why? idk #rimi writes #tim #kon

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Once Upon a Time 10

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Andy Barber

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

A message pops up on your Instagram. You open it with dread, a blank profile with some generic photo of a bookshelf. You already know it's him. 

‘Your aunt is very nice.’ 

You nearly drop your phone as you glance over at Jo. She sits with a cross stitch as she watches a rerun of Cold Case. You shudder and look back down at the screen. 

‘Why r u doing this?’ 

You hit the arrow as your sweaty hands stick to the silicon case. 

‘Why am I being nice?’ He replies. 

You can't. You stand up with your phone and your Aunt Jo peeks over with an arched brow. You give an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, I'll be right back.” 

You cross the room and pass the kitchen doorway. You lock yourself in the bathroom and look at your phone. You see three dots then they disappear. 

‘You followed me.’ 

He sends a rolling eye emoji. You nearly scream. What the hell? He's rolling his eyes at what? Stalking you? 

‘More than once.’ 

He sends a laughing emoji with tears. You huff. He's so confusing. Then a photo pops up, buffering before finally loading. 

It's Chelsea, well, the top of her head and she's… 

You want to puke. You can't believe he'd send you that. Does she know he took that? Even if she's a bitch, you feel bad. 

‘Looks like I'm all taken care of.’ He texts. 

‘Looks like you are.’ 

You turn your phone to do not disturb and lock it. He's disgusting. You don't even get what he wants from you. If he has Chelsea doing all that, why the heck is he texting you? 

You take your phone to the spare room, what was once your room, and leave it there. You don’t want to be bothered by him, even if you can’t shake the uneasiness stirring your nerves. You go back to the living room and sit down on the couch. You stare unseeingly at the television as the syndicated legal series drones on. 

“What was that, honey?” Jo asks, poking her needle up then pulling it through. 

“Work,” you lie, “um, they keep moving around the schedule or whatever. It’s... frustrating.” 

“Ah, that’s too bad,” she tug the thread to its limit, “you’re stressed. Maybe you should take a day off.” 

“Maybe,” you rub your forehead, “or get a different job.” 

“Could do,” she shrugs, “you know I’ll support whatever you do.” 

“Yeah,” you drop your hands into your lap and look at her, “I know.” 

You turn back to screen and try to hide your despair. Should you try to tell her about Andy? The thought’s crossed your mind a dozen times over. Your Aunt Jo is fierce and loving, she might just believe you but it’s not her holding you back. It’s him. He’s dangerous and he hasn’t yet shown you how dangerous. 

It’s better she doesn’t know. Not right now. You’ll have to deal with Andy. Just not tonight. 

📖

You grumble around the last mouthful of coffee. Another day, another shift. While Jo’s suggestion was tempting, you really can’t give up the hours. Nonetheless, you haven’t sat on your hands. Several applications were forward late into the night as sleep eluded you. Now you can barely hold your head up. 

It shouldn’t be very busy at opening. You can survive on an instant coffee packet from the breakroom. You yawn and grab your coat and bag. The snow puffs up around your boots as you step outside, shivering as you tuck your scarf into the top of your jacket. You pull your hood up against the frigid wind and tamp down the fresh powder as you come down the walk. 

As you get to the sidewalk, you stop and look both ways. Before you can cross and head for the bus stop, a horn honks, jarring you. You step back as a familiar car rolls up. You cross your arms, heart racing, and peek back over your shoulder at the safe hold of your aunt’s house. 

“Buses are behind,” Andy calls through the window as it slides down, “you’ll be late...” 

“I’m fine,” you sidestep to walk around the rear bumper and he shifts into reverse, blocking your escape. 

“I know your aunt didn’t teach you to be so ungrateful--” 

“Don’t talk about my aunt,” you snap as you turn back the other way and he rolls forward. You stop short and stomp your foot, “why are you doing this? Why are you bugging me? Chelsea--” 

“I don’t want Chelsea, she’s a slut. She’s easy. She gets the job done,” he sneers. 

You shake your head and blow out a cloud of warmth into the crisp air, “I’m sure there are other--” 

“You,” he says tersely, “that’s it. No one else.” 

You close your eyes and shudder, “I... I’m not interested... like that, Andy. I just was being friendly because it’s my job. Can’t you understand?” 

“I don’t understand,” he snarls, “I’m a lawyer, I’m good-looking, I take good care of myself and I could do the same for you. You wouldn’t have to work in some shitty bookstore.” 

You flutter your lashes and shake your head, “I...” 

“What? Why don’t you want me?” He leans over the seat further, glaring at you. 

“How old are you?” You blurt out, immediately sealing your lips in regret. 

He scoffs, “and how old are you? Bit over the hill to be in retail, huh? I know you’re not some college kid getting a few extra bucks. You’re a grown woman, your life is a mess. You need someone like me.” 

You huff, “I need you to leave me alone.” 

He clucks and sits up. The car idles in front of you as he sits silently. He grips the real and clears his throat, “I’ll be seeing you for dinner. Aunt Jo sure is sweet, maybe you could learn a thing or two from her.” 

The window rolls up before you can spit back a retort. The mention of your aunt flares in your chest. How dare he. You know it’s more than a snipe at you, he’s not saying her name for nothing. It’s a threat. 

He steers away down the snowy road, the snow packing beneath the weight of the car. You watch his headlights stop at the corner before you kick through the snow. Fuck. 

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #drabble #once upon a time #defending jacob #au #bookstore au #series

[cosmicladyy]

"OW, that’s too rough!"

"I wouldn't have to be if you'd just stay still!"

"You're gonna rip my finger off," your husband yowled and snatched his claws away from your grasp, giving you a nasty look as if you were intentionally trying to cause him pain.

you're aware of bowser's objections to having his nails trimmed, you could hear his complaining echo throughout the whole castle whenever he was forced into it by kamek; complaints flying out about it being the worst pain he's ever had to endure.

(you asked Junior if it was true, to which he denied and said he never felt anything when he had to get his claws cut. he just told you that his dad was a crybaby when it came to this sort of thing.)

you were happy to let him grow out his claws to his heart's content, if he didn't leave you completely covered in scratches from doing the littlest things. outside of the usual reasons you'd be left that disheveled, he didn't have the best handle on them now that they were so long. he somehow managed to destroy your favorite shirt just from giving you a hug.

he was scheduled for a filing a few days ago. conveniently, he was too busy training some new recruits; then, every day after that, he has somehow been able to evade you. for such a large and easy-to-spot guy, Bowser proved to be hard to pin down.

"sorry honey, it's getting late and i'm ready to hit the sack." it was 7:30 in the evening.

"I- uh- have to run some drills with the kids!" they were out of the castle that day.

"whining isn't going to make me go quicker," so, you took on the burden of filing down his claws.

you managed to catch him off guard when he snuck out of bed for a midnight snack. clad in just your pj's and whatever slippers were available, you cornered him, a metal nail filer gripped tightly in your hand.

the 'fight', if you could even call it that, might've alarmed a few guards with the pots and pans you brought down with you as you pinned down the stubborn turtle. it took some convincing that there was no real threat and that you were doing it for his own good; their king ordering them to help him from the floor didn't help your case.

where you got the nerve to defy him, he'll never know.

It's silent after that. the only sounds filling the room are dramatic hissing and the back-and-forth sawing of the filer.

If he wasn't mourning the loss of his long minion shredders, Bowser would've been over the moon at the domestic gesture. you, tending to his nails to ensure they were in perfect shape, and him getting to soak in your warmth as you make yourself comfortable in his lap.

why did he even have to cut his nails down anyway? it's not like he has to. they're perfectly fine and just add to his cool, jagged persona. So unfa-

"I'd really appreciate it if you didn't breath on my neck so much."

your only answer is an even heavier puff of warm air that's closer and had more power behind it, "it's not like they were buggin' anybody."

"i have a giant scratch on my back that says otherwise." his arm that you weren't holding wraps around your middle almost apologetically.

he grumbles behind you as you softly blow at the newly shortened, still sharp claw, "see, doesn't that look better?"

briefly examining the hand you raised up to his face, he chuffs and looks off to the side stubbornly, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of him admitting that he liked them way better than before.

"if you really loved me, you woulda left them the way they were." he barely argues.

rolling your eyes, you peel yourself out of his hold, "it's not exactly ideal to be a living pincushion, y'know."

he remains silent, refusing to even make eye contact.

"want me to make you a sandwich?" you softly bargained, holding his rough cheeks in your hands and running your thumbs over his scales in a way you know he likes.

there's a pause, then he huffs, "with extra spicy mustard and chili flakes sprinkled on top?"

"anything for you, my king," you land a wet kiss between his bushy brows with an obnoxiously cute 'mwah!' and began moving around the kitchen in search of said ingredients.

with your back turned to him, the flustered koopa takes a peek down at his newly primped claws, flipping his hands over to fully admire your work.

a jagged, lovesick grin bumpily spreads out on his muzzle; he could get used to this.

#rewatched that one scene from kfp #bowser x reader #the only man i'd ever make a sandwich for at 12 am <<33 #'its a drabble' i say as i revise it and make it even longer #cosmicwrites #unedited

[imsodishy]

(prev) Part 3 (next)

The night Billy tracks Max to some weird fucking house in the woods isn’t so much a pressure release valve as it is a catastrophic failure of all systems.

It just builds all night. First his dad, with Susan fucking watching. Then he’s sent out into the night, starts at the Sinclair’s, because obviously. Smile politely, blink now, sound concerned, blink again, say thank you when they send him off to the Wheelers. Do it again, less polite, more flirtatious, match her energy, don’t chew through your own tongue and spit blood in her face. Go to the Byers.

And then Steve Harrington is there.

Billy’s desperate for that empty swell of nothing he gets sometimes. Grasping for it with his fingernails as Harrington lies right to his fucking face and Billy’s blood boils.

As Max refuses to just do what she’s supposed to for once, he can hear the high pitched whistle in his brain.

When Harrington tells him to get out, flat and even, like he’s right and Billy’s wrong for even being here,  Billy blows a fucking gasket. He blows all his gaskets. He can’t even see for all the steam that explodes outta him.

Then Max sticks him with a needle and there really is nothing for a good long while.

He's still kind of woozy when the Chief of police delivers them home. Susan ushers Max inside, Neil shakes the cop’s hand, a hearty, “Thank you, officer.”

Billy’s head feels stuffed with wool, he can’t hear himself as he yessirs and no sirs, the pair of them under the porch light. Can’t tell how he sounds, but he’s guessing not great judging by the pissed off slant of both their mustaches.

Whatever Max shot him up with keeps the rest of the night foggy. Silver linings.

He wakes up hurting. That big blank nothing inside him has finally showed up, a day late and a dollar short to keep him from making a mess, but better late than never he supposes.

He and Max are both grounded, but that means different things of course.

When Dad prompts him after the law is laid down Billy parrots, “Understood,” absolutely flat. He’s lucky Dad chooses to read it as contrite instead of flippant.

In the car Max keeps looking at him like she’s expecting something outta him, but he’s not sure what. She laid down the law too. It’s hazy but he knows damn well he conceded.

The Hawkins High rabble see Billy’s fucked up face and Harrington’s even more fucked up face and successfully put two and two together to make four. They needle and imply and outright ask in chorus, baby birds demanding to be fed. They want a story, any story will do, but Billy for once hasn’t actually bothered to come prepared. Even if he had he's got nothing in the tank to sell it.

It seems to take forever for them to notice that Billy’s not playing along. In the face of Billy’s, well, face, and his stony silence they pipe down, or slink away to make up their own stories without his input. The whispers are quick to turn mean. He and Steve both getting torn to shreds by the gears of the rumour mill.

He can’t bring himself to care.

It doesn’t take long before he can feel the scales of popularity tip out of his favor. Just a few too many days of being a bit too unpleasant and, just like that, the shine is off their California toy. They’ve spotted the defect. He didn’t even last a month.

The bruises fade, but the numbness persists.

At home Dad has gone from livid, to mad, to irritated, but Billy can sense they've hit the nadir and they’re already starting the climb back up the roller-coaster. Billy speaks when spoken to and Dad's fine with that up to a point, but this morning at breakfast he pointed at Billy with his fork and warned, “You had better be about done with this sulking, son.”

He hasn’t spoken to Max in three weeks. She’s gone from smug, to suspicious, to peeved. She stopped speaking to him in retaliation, but she only lasted three days. Now she huffs and puffs and tries to goad him into breaking too.

They’re both miserable in the chill as the days get colder. Even with the heaters going in the Camaro they keep they’re chins tucked into their collars. It’s not the most conducive environment for conversation anyway.

Climbing out of the passenger seat at the arcade Max leans back in to say, “Pick me up at six.”

They’re supposed to be home by six. Billy nods.

Max climbs back in and slams the door shut. “Seriously?” she demands, her eyes are wild and expectant.

It’s not him breaking, Billy just finally has something he can say to her, which, ironically is, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“How about, five thirty, shitbird, don’t be late!” she grumbles in a fairly insulting (though passable) imitation of his voice.

“And then?”

That pulls her up short, “What?”

“And then what would you say?”

She gapes at him for a minute before saying, “Kiss my ass,” and then she climbs back out of the car. Unclear if that’s what she’d say then or if it’s what she’s saying now. Both probably.

#dishy writes #these story chunks seem to be working for me right now *shrug* #billy hargrove #autistic billy hargrove #billy and max #neil hargrove #act like it fic

[wearywinchester]

Hunter’s Holiday

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When Christmas doesn’t go to plan, Dean has a way of turning this around for the better.

Warnings: angst, language, arguing, fluff, kissing

Christmas with the Winchesters was never something that was even remotely conventional, in fact, it was different every year. Sometimes you celebrated it at Bobby’s, Christmas tree and everything. Sure, it was an old tree that was housed in a dusty attic more often than not. The lights were dim but somehow Dean knows just the trick to brighten them up. May not have been glamorous but it was the closest to a family Christmas that any of you’d ever get.

Then there were the Christmas’ spent in dated motel rooms, decorated with tinsel bought for a dollar at the nearest convenience store on mini mart. Your Christmas tree was a Little Tree air freshener that smelled like pine, one that made Sam sneeze and Dean roll his eyes at said sneezing. Your gifts would be stuff you’d find at a Gas N’ Sip, whether it’s a six pack for Dean or a new map for Sam, or filling up Dean’s gas tank when he’s wandering around in search for anything resembling a decent pie.

Then there were the times when Christmas was something that slipped your mind at the last moment, too caught up with a hunt to realize what the date was. Sometimes you think it’s them putting it off, not wanting to do anything because they felt there was no point. You knew that to be true some years and you couldn’t blame them. They’d bypass the Christmas lights out for show in the town you were hunting in, pretend to be oh so annoyed of the Christmas music. But the night always ended with a meal at a local diner, always, and you never failed to overhear Dean order a hot chocolate. It’s just a coffee, he always says.

It wasn’t. The mini marshmallows he tried to push down and melt away begged to differ.

Then there was this kind of Christmas, one that had you on the verge of tears as you stared daggers into the older Winchester. It was partially your fault, yes, because it was you that ran after a werewolf that’d tried to make an escape. It most certainly did but your persistence rewarded you, as did the snow on the ground offering clear tracks for you to see.

But such persistence was your down fall, having gotten lost just as easily, something you realized when all was said and done.

It was this kind of holiday, one full of wandering around in the great big woods all by yourself, snow covering your tracks if you didn’t move fast enough to find them again. Winter weather wasn’t so glamorous when you were stuck in it for hours, any bit of exposed skin having been paying the price.

It was this kind of holiday, full of angry tears that held the utmost of fear beneath it all because you were lost. You can carry all the pride you wanted to, all of it, but no amount of stubbornness can surpass the feeling of fear as you stagger around the snow covered foliage without a damn clue of where you’re going, without a clue of where the green eyed hunter who was surely losing his mind was. It was full of trembling hands and frequent clouds from your rapid breathing. Too scared to call out his name but too scared not to take the chance.

It was this kind of holiday, of wishing things were different. Of wishing you were never a hunter that goes after these stupid monsters that have a silly little habit of ruining the world, blending in with people who don’t even know they exist until it’s too late. Of wishing you had a normal life so you could have a normal Christmas, not one filled with stress on where you were even going, not one filled with angry upset that left you to feel worse and worse with each passing minute. The only stress you should’ve been feeling was if dinner was going to be ready on time, or if everyone got what they wanted for Christmas.

And now, now it was full of two sets of huffs and puffs, most prominently from the hunter a step or two ahead of you. Followed by one to rival it from you every single time. He was angry, he was pissed, and so were you. It was damn cold outside, the layers of t shirt and flannel, and even flannel lined jacket proving to be not so impenetrable like you’d thought.

“Would you stop huffing? You’re driving me nuts,” you grumble, doing just that, huff.

“Me? Don’t even get me started, sweetheart,” he counters, pulling a narrowed stare from you.

He saw it, he turned around and saw it when you’d gone quiet. The action of you snatching your hand from his with all of the spite in the world even further giving him a reason to spin on his heel and look at you. The sudden stop had you walking smack into him, the action furthering your frustration as you stared up at him from your newfound proximity. The small incident was irritating, inconveniencing as you met his gaze.

“You’re wasting time, Winchester,” you say, lips pursing in annoyance. Your heart was pounding, both from the wintery hike and your anger.

He chuckles, humorless, head shaking at your words. He was near astonished, near at a loss for words himself as he heard yours fall from your lips. “You know, we wouldn’t even be in this situation if it weren’t for you.”

You scoff, brows knitting together impossibly more. “I have a job to do, and I did it, Dean. Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same because you absolutely would.”

You barely had the time to finish your sentence before he retorted.

“No Y/n, you could’ve gotten yourself dead just to gank a damn werewolf that had his sight set on luring you out of there to make you one of the damn team. You were being an idiot,” he says, voice raising slightly.

Your jaw clenched, those angry tears resurfacing at his words, at that raise in his voice. You hated it, you hated that your most prominent response to anger were these stupid tears of yours. You hated the vulnerability, and you hated the appearance of anything other than strength. You hated it and to dwell on it only made them well up in your eyes even more. Only made you more upset.

“Then why come looking for me if I’m such a pain in the ass? I’m fine on my own,” you say, chewing on the inside of your cheek to try and will away that pressure behind your eyes.

He simply looks at you and laughs, that same chuckle from moments ago as he shakes his head. But he doesn’t say anything, he won’t, because it’ll only make tempers flare more than they already were. You very much were a pain, but he’d like to think you were his pain in the ass, something he’d gladly put up with even if he refused to admit it.

He came looking for you without a single beat of hesitation because losing you wasn’t an option, not even close, as scary as that may sound. To care for someone so deeply scared him more than any monster could. He came looking for you because that’s what he always does, and that’s what he’ll always do. He doesn’t care that it’s so stupidly cold out there in those woods, he doesn’t care that there was a point where he could barely feel his hands enough to pull the trigger on that werewolf in case it was still out there. He didn’t care how ridiculously inconveniencing this whole thing was, not when your life was on the line.

So he looks at you, at the way your jaw rattles in a way you can’t control because you’re colder than you’d ever admit. He watches as your breath puffs past your lips in little clouds with each angry exhale, warm against his skin as you look up at him. He can see that wobble in your lip, and every fleck of vulnerability that pooled in your eyes because there was no hiding anything from him. He knew you like the back of his hand whether you liked it or not, whether you realized it or not.

It was a staring contest to rival all others, but it was one he chose to lose as he turns away only slightly, shrugging his jacket off.

“I don’t need your coat, Dean—”

“Didn’t ask. And don’t try and tell me you’re not cold either,” he says, leaving your lips to remain parted, those very words having been stopped on the tip of your tongue.

That frown returned as he settled the coat on your shoulders, grabbing your wrist and guiding your arm through the sleeve that was much too long for your arm, doing the same on the other side because you’re much too stubborn to do it yourself. You’d simply let it fall off your shoulders and put it back on his if he let you have the chance. But he didn’t, and he won’t.

You couldn’t deny the immediate comfort that blanketed you, in a literal and figurative sense. The warmth in his coat was still very much there, lingering, as was the dulled scent of his cologne that you were convinced would permanently remain on his collar no matter how many times it’s washed. The flannel lining of the jacket was worse for wear, tattered and occasionally torn, but it made it all the more comfortable as it hung over your shoulders.

You pretended your cheeks weren’t burning as he fastened a couple of the buttons for good measure, that crease still between his brows and those dimples very much by the corners of his mouth in that look of disapproval.

“So you would rather freeze?” You ask, squinting up at him as the snow continues to flurry down.

“I’m good. You, on the other hand—”

“I’m perfectly fine, Dean. You don’t have to show off for my sake.”

“Y/n, I can hear your jaw rattling from a mile away,” he says, unamused and you clench it, immediately stopping the chattering you didn’t fully know was occurring. “Come up with a better lie next time.”

You bite your tongue, swallowing thickly as you exhale a heavy sigh through your nose. He could see right through you, whether you wanted him to or not, whether you knew it or not. In actuality, you were cold and you were miserable. The snow that’s oh so pretty to look at was accumulating and wetting your clothes, the cold temperatures making you nearly unbearably cold.

You couldn’t help the way your body trembled, not as you stood there, not as you walked. It was involuntary at this point because of the absurdity of this winter weather. The tip of your nose was the equivalent to an ice cube, your cheeks nearly the same, though the simple act of him buttoning is jacket on you had done you some favors.

That chatter in your jaw wasn’t lost on you now that he’d pointed it out, an argument you hated for being valid. But it was true, and he was right about it.

You were miserable, completely and utterly miserable. He could see it on your face. Sure, there was that angry look that was brewing just for him on that face he finds to be the prettiest he’ll ever see. Brows knit together and lips pursed, daggers shooting straight into wherever you’d been looking.

But he could see it.

Beneath that stubborn pride was a softer pout, beaming bright because you could never hide your emotions no matter how hard you tried to. There were those teary eyes accompanied by a sniff, something you’d be quick to pass off as the cold weather if he thought to ask what that was all about.

It was the way you made yourself small, gaze darting around you with the utmost of vulnerability within it until you caught yourself and hardened your stare. The way you shifted your weight back and forth on your feet the way you do when you’re nervous. The way you could stay still for very long at all.

It was the way you muttered to yourself how very merry this Christmas was, with every ounce of upset sarcasm he’s ever heard. It was pitiful and soft, and completely tugging at his heart and there was no two ways about it.

He didn’t ask you what you said, didn’t make a big deal out of it—it’d only make you feel worse. He didn’t do any of that, but instead offered you his hand, a gesture you were stubborn about just as he thought you’d be.

“I’m fine, Dean.”

“Wasn’t asking. Ain’t having you run off on me again,” he says, a certain lightness in his tone able to be heard this time. But he very much did mean it.

You stared up at him, near unrelenting and from the corner of your eye you see him wave his hand once, expectant for your palm to slip into his, raised brows to match the action. You give it a moment or two, eyes squinting slightly as you purse your lips. But after that brief but of time you give into your stubbornness, that stupid pride you had. You let yourself have that comfort you so desperately wanted to have.

You took his hand, hesitant of course, feeling the warm of his palm press against yours. It felt like instant relief, a certain feeling that was almost hard to put into words. You felt that anger begin to melt away, that frustration and stubborn upset that had itself so tightly wound around you. It unravel loop by loop, bit by bit until there was nothing left as his hand enveloped yours in that ever familiar fit.

That tension in his shoulders relaxed as he walked forward, that heavier than ever weight loosening up and lifting itself off your chest. The negativity, the hostility, the badder than bad mood that’d taunted the both of you began to dissipate unbeknownst to the other. It was absolutely obvious, just not to the two hunters involved.

It was damn near enchanting what a single action, what a single touch could do for the soul. It was baffling how one simple thing could take a horrible day, a horrible range of emotions, and send them clattering to pieces in favor of a little comfort, a little peace that was so desperately needed.

He walked along with you, walked until he found he didn’t get very far when the other half of the equation stopped following, offering some resistance before he realized you’d stopped walking.

He turns on his heels, brow raised in silent questioning as he looks at you. You’ve got the softest smile he’d ever seen, the most beautiful at that, those crinkles by your eyes enough to make his knees go weak because it was him you’d been looking at like that. You’ve got that pretty smile, but as if it couldn’t get any better, white flurries of snow had been steady falling over you, catching in your hair in the most graceful of ways.

“Thought you were rarin’ to go,” he said, teasing in his tone as he steps closer.

You stood there, drowning in his coat that was warmer than ever as you looked at him. His cheeks and nose were the softest shade of pink, the color blossoming from the cold and bringing all the more attention to his freckles that dot and speckle along his skin.

He stood there, looking at you as though you were about to say the most important thing he’ll ever hear in his entire life. He waited there, patient as ever as you gazed up at him, delicate snowflakes landing amongst his hair that wasn’t quite so spiky and Dean Winchester styled anymore after the inclement weather had done what it will do.

“Merry Christmas, De,” you say softly.

It very much was the most important thing he’d hear, at least for today, that small spark of jolly in your tone amidst everything else.

He chuckles then, not like the humorless laugh from earlier, a true chuckle, eyes darn near sparkling as he looks at you beaming up at him like he’s the greatest thing in the world. He doesn’t feel like he deserves even a shred of it, but he’s certain he’d do anything to keep that radiance there.

You watch as he digs around in the pocket of his jeans, watch as he squints one eye and scrunches his nose in search of whatever it is he’s looking for with a sense of vigor. You watch and wait, seeing his expression change to that smile he’s got that’s brighter than anything else. That one he’s got saved just for you.

Your gaze flickers upward to follow his hand, the most playful of eye rolls soon to come after it. Pinched between his fingertips was a tattered little branch of mistletoe, all ruffled and bent from his pocket. The softness of your laugh was soon to follow it, your gaze dropping just a little lower to meet his eyes.

“Would you look at that?” He starts, his smile widening. “Now if my memory serves me correctly, it’s only customary to kiss if you’re under—”

You don’t give him so much as the chance to finish his sentence as you lean on your toes, lips pressing to his. It’s a smidge cold, lips not as warm as they’d be if you weren’t outside in the cold weather. But it was soft and sweet, every bit Dean Winchester and more. You felt his soft laugh against your lips, could feel his arm drop as he tosses the mistletoe aside in favor of pulling you all the more close.

“Thought you weren’t one for traditions?” You say, brow raising as he stills one, two, three more kisses, each harder to part from than the last.

He hums softly, a smile on his lips that was soon to be kissed, once, and even twice.

“Well, to be fair,” he starts, tucking your hair behind your ear. You could tell he’s got words on the tip of his tongue, could see it in his smile before he kisses the tip of your nose, then down to your lips. “Christmas was yesterday.”

His words sound as a whisper, humor in his tone yet his statement was entirely true. You were shocked nonetheless, eyes widening as you pull back to look at him. A gasp follows it, then a light shove at his shoulder. His own laugh sounds as you speak his name in protest, his head tipping back in another laugh as you shove him once more.

But he’s quick to pull you close again, his laughter puffing out little clouds of his breath that just barely cloud your ability to see him in the close proximity as his nose brushes against yours. The badness from that day, even the cold weather seems to be forgotten in that moment, if even for a second or two. It’s forgotten as his lips brush against yours and curl up and in soft smile.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

—

Taglist: @harrysweasleys @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @campingmonkey @lanea-1 @deandaydreaming @agalliasi @malindacath @ajreturnstocringeyaccount @deanswaywardgirl @awkward-and-indecisive @drownthewitch @happyt0exist @sparkycorleone @humanmistakes @akshi8278 @kidd3ath @nyotamalfoy @elliewigginton20

#dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine

[plus-size-reader]

Life with Kit Walker HC

Pre-asylum:

~There has never been a more perfect man and I will not be hearing anyone out about anything

~Kit smells like motor oil and cigarettes, in the best way

~Holds your jaw when he kisses you, I don’t make the rules

~Exclusively calls you “doll” “honey” or  his “little wife”

~Though, sometimes, when it’s just the two of you and you’re both feeling especially playful, he calls you “wifey” just so you’ll call him “hubby”

~Surprising him at work with lunch, which the guys at the shop all tease him for

~Playful taps on your ass, especially when you’re least expecting it

~Loves the feeling of your nails on his skin. Like, run your hands through his hair and this man melts

~Hugs you around your middle a lot and buries his face wherever he can get it, so that he can breathe you in and be surrounded by you for a while

~He always has dirty hands, and leaves oil stains on all of your towels and blankets without even meaning to. Sometimes, he even swipes a dirty thumb over your face to watch the jet black liquid mar your skin

~Huffs and puffs under his breath when he’s frustrated about something but doesn’t actually want to bother you about it

~Making dinner together after a long day, and Kit ends up making more of a mess than actually helping you in the kitchen

~Puts money away in a coffee can under the bed for a couple months to buy you real fancy present for your anniversary because you deserve it

~Will put off washing his hair until you can do it for him just so that he can enjoy having you so close to him

~Fidgets with his wedding ring constantly when it’s on his hand

~When he’s at work though, Kit wears his ring on a silver chain around his neck, so that i falls just above his heart all day without him having to worry about losing it

~Super protective of you to the point of absurdity

~Once got in a fight with some guy at the bar after one too many for making a comment about you that he didn’t like

~Runs you baths sometimes, with that fancy bubble bath your friend brought in that basket for your birthday a few years ago

~Then, taking that bath with you and soaking together until the water is a nipping cold

~You haven’t opened a door since you started dating, whether that be a car door, your front door, or the door to your favorite diner in town

~Late night kisses that taste like beer and stale cigarette

~Kit strikes me as the kind of husband who likes to help you get ‘unready’ as much as he likes to watch  you get dolled up. Like, he would help you out of your shoes, unzip your dress, and undo your necklace and put it in the jewelry box

~Is obsessed with watching you put on your makeup, often standing behind you in the mirror with his hands on your hips and his chin resting in the crook of your neck

~Kit has a heart of gold and knows how to use it when it comes to you

Inside Briarcliff:

~Talking to one another about the lives you lived before this and who you always dreamed you would be, outside of the circumstances

~Kit doing his best to protect you in there, always staying close when he can and even taking a caning or two when you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time

~Talking every night through the walls of your rooms, and finding comfort in his voice

~Holding you close and tight whenever he gets the opportunity, in an effort to keep you from feeling less alone while also making himself feel better

~Walking the grounds together, even holding hands on occasion when there’s no one around to put a stop to it

#american horror story #ahs #ahs asylum #american horror story asylum #kit walker #american horror story x plus size reader #american horror story x ps reader #american horror story x reader #american horror story imagine #ahs x reader #ahs x ps reader #ahs x plus size reader #ahs imagine #kit walker x reader #kit walker x ps reader #kit walker x plus size reader #kit walker imagine #american horror story headcanons

[iluffyouxo]

ρℓυм αηԃ ѕυցαя || ℓєση ѕ. кєηηєԃу

Resident Evil 4 — leon s. kennedy x black, female oc

There was something in his boyish look as he stared into space, a hand stuck in between the tresses of his ash blonde hair.

Next to him, on the table, sat a half-empty glass of Hennessy and, in front of him, the tv displayed a show Sigrid had forgotten the name of.

Not that it really mattered.

She could tell he wasn’t paying attention to the background laughter and characters’ smiles shown on screen.

Rather he was glancing behind it at the window which faced a high view of the city line that met the downcast of the evening sky.

Leon had returned from his trip to Spain quicker than Sigrid had anticipated.

It had been a rather dull, grey afternoon spent cleaning indoors—though, in that late hour, the winds began to moan and the rain crashed against the window panes—when Sigrid opened the door to a drenched and noticeably jaded Leon Kennedy. “Oh, Leon…”

It was her usual greeting upon his typical unannounced arrivals.

Though, she never knew the context of his trips, she knew that they were important and never questioned why or how he was leaving for some no-name town in another country in the earliest hours of the morning—or be it the middle of the night.

The two weren’t dating, the two weren’t lovers, they were only roommates that had survived the same tragedy. Roommates that held the same trauma. It was best that they didn’t fall in love.

(Even if Leon had already broken that unspoken rule).

She didn’t really have a right to know. He could walk right out of her life, and it wouldn’t really matter. They weren’t even best friends—that title easily belonged to Chris and Claire.

However, that didn’t stop Sigrid from getting to know him better than the back of her right hand.

Leon had a huge sweet tooth, and the one weirdest combination that never failed to cheer him up was her mom’s sugarplum cake.

And she was currently plating a slice on one of her more aesthetically designed plates. “Here, Leon,” Sigrid hands him the plate, “I made you mom’s cake.”

He glances down at the plate in his hands before placing it on the table in front of him and giving her a quick nod in gratitude…or acknowledgement.

Sigrid sighs, planting a quick kiss atop his head, “I’m gonna be gone for a few days to visit my aunt. You’ll be okay, right?”

Sigrid knew he wouldn’t. After the five years of being roommates with each other, it took only a few months for her to gauge the fact that Leon had an abandonment issue—a severe one at that.

In the recent years there have been a few times that Leon knocked on her bedroom door (most likely after awakening from a nightmare) at the hopes that she was still there. That she hadn’t left him behind. And he’d sleep on her floor without a word of granting explanation in the morning.

Leon looks up at her, pale blue eyes glossed over, and his lips parted in an attempt to speak. “I…” What exactly was he going to say? No? He couldn’t keep Sigrid from seeing her family. That’d be selfish.

(Even if his second mind told him to say no. Even if he wanted so badly to tell her to stay).

“Ummm…yeah, I’ll be fine,” his voice cracked. “I’m no Boy Scout in need of babysitting.” The dim-witted joke catches Sigrid off guard and she huffs out a laugh. “Then, I’ll leave the house to you and your terrible jokes.”

Leon returns Sigrid’s halfhearted laugh with a small grin. He liked it when she made fun of his idiocies.

Leon leaned against the doorframe, watching as Sigrid pulled out a large suitcase from under the bed. It hadn’t been touched since they had first moved in together. Her tight coils had been pulled into a high afro puff and he thought it looked like a crown atop her head.

He had come back to her hair dyed a pearl blonde and it was pretty, a nice contrast to her dark brown skin. His own ash blonde didn’t fit him well since his skin and eye color was already pretty pale. Leon just guessed he was meant to be a somber and dry person.

“Hey, Leon.” He blinks out of his daze, turning to look up at her. “You’re crying.”

Leon lifts a hand to his cheek…oh, my face is wet. He uses the back of his wrists to wipe at his eyes. “…Sorry.” Sigrid was already in front of him, though, forcing his hands away and using her thumbs to brush his cheeks. “You said you’d be okay.”

He downcasts his blueberry gaze. “Leon…you lied to me again, didn’t you?” Of course she knew the answer to this. But, obvious questions were the only way to get him to talk. “I’m…no, I won’t be okay. Sorry.”

With a sigh Sigrid reaches around his shoulder, Leon instinctively flinches, to rest her fingers in the thin strands of light grey tresses. Sigrid begins pushing his head down leading him to lay his head on her shoulder. She sighs again and leans her head against his gently. “Just ask me to stay, my aunt will understand.”

Sometimes he forgot how sympathetic—or, rather, perceptive—Sigrid is. Despite her dominant demeanor and introverted attitude. It was the main reason why the pair lived with each other in the first place.

She could apprehend the feelings of his, considering Sigrid had also survived Raccoon City just a year prior. The imagery daunting and fresh. They had been interrogated by the same secret service (though, he had been the only one recruited by them).

With his attraction seemingly evident by everyone but her and Sigrid’s own kindness they had decided to take up an apartment somewhere in the suburbs of Washington DC. And they’ve lived with each other for the past five and a half years. Even so, sometimes he does forget why he likes her because it just feels…right to have this fondness weld up.

“I almost died, again; I almost didn’t keep my promise to not end up a Leon pancake.” Sigrid genuinely laughs at that, “You’re so silly, Leon.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles into her oversized hoody. It smelled of morning dew and woody sage. The fragrance was completely Sigrid Monroe. “I think that’s why I like you.”

Leon quickly jumps out of Sigrid’s embrace at her remark. She smiles, “And I know you like me, too.”

Before Leon can respond back Sigrid takes his hand in hers. “C’mon, your sugarplum cake is waiting on you.” Leon decides to keep quiet and grin. Sigrid’s said everything, anyways. No sense in ruining a good thing.

#black writers #excerpt from a book i'll never write #black female reader #black oc #fanfiction #fanfic #resident evil #resident evil 4 #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy imagine #imagine #resident evil imagines #out of character talk ( ooc ) #ooc leon kennedy #abandonment issues #fluff #leon kennedy fluff

[mercurygguk]

make you mine; drabble #7

➵ summary; hyejin hasn’t answered you in more than 12 hours which is unusual. the reason for her silence is surprising to say the least.

pairing; jungkook x f. reader

rating; PG-13

wc; 1,536

genre; slice of life au

warnings; mentions of sex, swearing

a/n; fifth mym drabble but number 7 on the list of drabbles lolol <3 i hope you like this one, i found it pretty cute myself so enjoyyy!

Jungkook’s apartment is quiet when you arrive around 10 AM on a Saturday morning. Everyone must be sleeping still, all doors to their rooms closed, not a single sound coming from any of them. You leave your belongings by the coat rack before tiptoeing to Jungkook’s room, doing your best to stay quiet so you don’t wake up the others.

Your boyfriend is fast asleep when you slip into his room, closing the door after you. His soft snores travel across the room and into your ears, a smile spreading on your lips at the sound.

Despite being fully dressed in fitness tights and a hoodie that belongs to Jungkook, you crawl into his bed and snuggle up against his half naked body. He stirs lightly as you slide your rather cold hand over his abdomen while leaving a few soft kisses against the skin of his shoulder. Your smile widens when he pulls you closer, flush against his side. 

“Your hands are really cold,” he whines in a raspy voice, his hoarse morning voice causing a tingle to run through your whole body.

“Sorry,” you softly reply.

A soft giggle leaves you when he moves around, shifting his lying position so he’s cuddling up against you instead, face burying itself in the crook of your neck. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, fingertips brushing over the goosebump-covered skin of his back as he falls into a slumber, heavy puffs of air escaping his lips and brushing against your neck.

“How was the party last night?” You ask after a while, well aware that he’s not sleeping anymore.

Jungkook sighs, planting a kiss on your neck before mumbling against your skin, “it was good.”

“Doesn’t sound convincing,” you chuckle at his groggy response.

Jungkook and his soccer team played a game yesterday and they had planned a small get-together afterwards. You weren’t able to come because the art gallery you work at had a new exhibition that required you to be there. Jungkook wasn’t too happy about it when you told him but he knows your job is important to you so he accepted it after whining and being pouty about it for an hour straight.

“Would’ve been more fun if you had been there,” he grumbles.

You can’t help but smile and coo softly, “I’m sorry, baby, I’ll be at your next party. Promise.”

He huffs out a short tsk, “you better.”

A comfortable silence overcomes the two of you, Jungkook’s tired and heavy breathing is clashing against the skin of your neck still while your hands caress his back, fingertips tracing imaginary drawings onto his warm skin.

Eventually, Jungkook falls asleep again from the way you’ve been caressing him, now warmer hands occasionally sliding all the way up into his black strands of hair, massaging his scalp before sliding down to his back again. As his soft snores return, you pull your phone up to check if Hyejin has replied to you yet. It’s almost 10 am and you know for a fact that she never sleeps late – not even after a night of partying.

You’re not one to worry too much about your friends whereabouts but when your best friend doesn’t reply to you for almost 12 hours, you slowly start to feel a small amount of concern within your chest.

“Kook,” you whisper, grimacing because you don’t want to wake him up but the concern is eating you alive and you don’t know what to do. “Jungkook.”

He hums in response, lifting his head to look at you with just one eye open. The other stays closed, unable to open from how tired he is. You offer him an apologetic smile.

“Do you know where Hyejin went after the party last night?” You ask him. He knits his eyebrows together in confusion so you elaborate with a soft sigh, “she hasn’t answered me in like 12 hours so I’m kinda worried and I don’t know what to do.”

Jungkook sighs, “I don’t know where anyone went, to be honest… I went to bed before everyone else.”

“Oh,” you mutter.

Your tired boyfriend smiles softly and leans in closer, pressing his lips to your cheek a few times in a row of small pecks.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” he tells you, “she’s probably just asleep-“

Jungkook is cut off by muffled moans, the sounds coming from the other side of the wall. You both freeze at the sound, eyes widening in surprise as you look at each other. Then realization hits you when Jungkook lets out a heavy sigh and your mouth falls open.

“Please don’t tell me that’s Tae’s conquest for the night I can hear,” you groan softly.

However, Jungkook grimaces and nods, “I’m afraid it is.”

“Gross!” You shudder before throwing the duvet off your body to get out of Jungkook’s bed. Jungkook laughs softly as he watches you move towards the door. He’s smiling at you from the comfort of his bed when you turn to look at him. You raise a single eyebrow in question, wondering if he’s going to join you in the kitchen or not. “You coming?”

“You don’t wanna stay for the show?” He asks in fake disappointment, pointing at the wall.

His face twists into a grin when you shoot him a glare. You roll your eyes at him before leaving his room, heading for the kitchen. Jungkook soon joins you, his dark hair a mess on top of his head as he comes stalking out of his bedroom dressed in a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt. You’re rummaging through the cabinets to look for something to eat when he comes up behind you, arms sliding around your waist to hug you to his body.

“You guys never have anything to eat here,” you mumble.

“There’s leftover pizza in the fridge,” Jungkook tells you as he begins to leave soft kisses against your neck, arms tightening around your body in case you ever think about leaving. You haven’t seen each other since classes yesterday morning and you know you’re going to spend the whole day with him glued to you like this. 

You’re not complaining though.

“Fine,” you sigh, “pizza it is then.”

After half an hour of talking and munching on leftover pizza, you and Jungkook’s heads whip around as the sound of a door opening interrupts your current conversation about whether or not Taehyung’s overnight guest is someone you know.

Taehyung emerges from his room, a smirking grin on his face as he spots the two of you sitting by the kitchen island. He nods at you in a greeting.

“Hey, man,” Jungkook grins, “where’s your- oh.”

Your jaw falls open next to him, eyes wide in shock as you stare at the girl who trails behind Taehyung, dressed in one of his t-shirts with rosy cheeks and bed hair.

“I can’t believe you!”

Hyejin’s eyes widen in surprise as she freezes, staring at you with the exact same expression. Taehyung looks smug as he passes by you on his way to the fridge, walking towards it with a pep in his step. Hyejin eases closer to the kitchen, glancing between you and Jungkook as you stare at her in surprise. Jungkook is trying to stifle a laugh because here you were, worried something happened to your best friend. While she was being railed into Taehyung’s mattress all along.

“Hey, ____-“

You shake your head immediately, a look of fake betrayal on your face, “no, don’t you ‘hey ____’ me! I was so worried because you didn’t answer my texts or calls!”

Hyejin lets out a sigh, leaning over the kitchen island next to you, “calm down, I’m fine, okay? I thought Jungkook would tell you I was here. He knew.”

Jungkook’s expression tells you she’s speaking the truth, his lips pulled into his mouth as he tries to keep himself from grinning. You glare at him and lightly slap his upper arm, body deflating in your seat.

“Not cool, you guys…” you mumble, taking another bite of your leftover pizza. Hyejin smirks softly as she grabs one of the slices off your plate. You pout at her, “I really thought something happened to you. You always reply to my texts.”

“Aw, sweetie,” she coos, matching your pout. “I would’ve told you if I knew your boyfriend wasn’t gonna tell you. So if anything, it’s him who’s at fault.”

Jungkook stares at you both with the most innocent face he can muster when you glance at him.

“I’m-“ he tries but you purse your lips and turn back to look at Hyejin.

“You know what Jungkook absolutely hates?” You ask her. She shakes her head while munching on the pizza slice. You smirk, knowing just how Jungkook will react when you tell her, “when I avoid his kisses.”

“No!” Almost instantly Jungkook lets out a soft groan, head falling back as he squeezes his eyes together. “Baby, don’t- I’m sorry. Don’t punish me like that, please.”

“Should’ve thought of that before.”

Hyejin and Taehyung let out a laugh as they watch Jungkook’s head drop to the kitchen counter top, a heavy defeated sigh leaving him.

“You’re so mean,” he grumbles.

#mym jk #jungkook #bts #jungkook fluff #drabble #bts fluff #bts jungkook #bts bangtan #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan boys #bangtan family #bts jjk #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x female reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook college au #bts college au #kpop #kpop fanfic #bts fanfic #fluff

[honeybeedewdrops]

Lost Friends | P.2

Summary: You are Mavericks kid and had a falling out with Bradley when Maverick pulled his papers. Years later you meet up again at The Hard Deck.

Part One

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You walked out onto the beach blowing out a puff of air who does he think he is saying sorry.

You sat on the beach looking out as the sun went down. The memories flashed through your mind. Bradley driving you to school, late night stops for food, but what stood out most was the day you realised you had a crush on him. It was just after your 12th birthday and Bradley came home from training and god you just fell in love. The next year you never heard or saw him again.

You felt the sand dip next to you. You looked up and saw Penny. “Sorry for walking out like that…” she shakes her head “no no it’s ok I understand. For what it’s worth he watched you leave, he looked…sad” you huff. “Sad..sad Penny he can’t be sad because he needs to remember he’s the one that walked out” “look, he watched you walk out and there was this look in his face like he missed you” you rolled your eyes. “Missed me yeah right” “Just maybe talk to him” Penny stands up. “Penny” “nope don’t want to hear. Now you take the rest of the night off I’ve got it covered” she walks away. You stay on the beach a little longer before getting up and heading home.

As Bradley left the bar he saw you sitting on the beach. It took everything in him to not walk over to you. Instead he got in his car and took a breath, he really did regret not saying goodbye.

-

Over the course of the week you worked and every afternoon you saw Bradley. You avoided him at all costs Penny would always shoot you a look but you ignored her. She’d always take his order and a couple of times you’d hear her apologies to him.

Eventually your dad caught on and questioned you “hey what’s going on with you and Bradley, Penny tells me your avoiding him” “yes but it’s nothing” “nothing? Really?” “Yes really” but maverick didn’t believe but he knew better than to push you. “Ok I won’t push but one day you’ll tell me” “shut up” you say and start eating dinner.

-

“So how’s that love life of yours coming?” Penny asks “just fine” you say “just fine really? When was the last time you had a date?” “Uhhh…” “see” “oh yeah and what about you huh” “I’ll have you know that your dad and I” “wait I forgot about him. Shut up” you say covering your ears. “Stop. Stop. I’ll spare you the details” Penny says pulling at your hands. “But put yourself out there.” You knew that look, it's the same look she gives when she wants you to talk to Bradley.

The like clock work the pilots walked in “hey look it’s lover man” Penny motions to Bradley. “Stop he does not have a crush on me” Penny laughs “Honey no man looks at you like that and not love you” “Penny stop” you say pulling your apron off. “Ok fine but I see it your eye you love him” that makes you blush. “Whatever” “get out of here” Penny says and you leave giving your dad a hug and a kiss on the cheek on your way out.

Hangman whistles as you “looking good Y/N” “Kiss my ass Hangman” “anytime” he says. You turn back to the door and walk out but not before flipping Hangman off earning a lot of snickers from the others.

-

It was a Friday night and you had the night off, well you have had the last 3 Fridays off but you were sure it was Penny’s way of saying go get a date.

However here you were eating ice cream watching chick flicks. Just as you were about to start the next movie your door bell rang. “Ugh who is that” you groan and get up. You open the door and there stood Bradley.

“Hey—“ he starts but you start to close the door. “Y/N please stop just listen” “what?” “I’m sorry I left you truly I am. I was pissed off at your dad he had pulled my papers and everything to do with him pissed me off.” Wait pulled his papers you didn’t know that. “I’m so sorry. I know it must have been hard” “Bradley stop just stop” “no I need to get this out. Your dad said that he never told you he pulled my papers. Every day I regretted the way I walked out and never talked to you again. I didn’t realise it then but I do now, Y/N I like you hell I love you”

You were speechless “Y/N say something” but you don’t so he turns to leave. “y-y-you loved me” “not loved, love. I love you Y/N” tears were falling from his face. You thought about it you were sure going to regret this later. “Do you want to maybe uh come in and talk about it” Bradley nods “yes I’d like that” “how’d you get my address anyway” “uhh private source?” “Penny gave it to you?” “Yeah” “I’m gonna kill her” you say and Bradley followed you in.

In the end you and Bradley stayed friends but ended up dating a few weeks later. When your dad found out he was a bit mad but what can he do nothing you're an adult. He was happy that it was a man he knew and trusted with his life but he’d never admit that out loud. A few years after you and Bradley started dating you got married and eventually had three kids.

#rooster x you #rooster x y/n #rooster imagine #bradley bradshaw imagines #top gun maverick #top gun x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller

[pirate-tink]

Umm, I have no idea where this came from? I may have come a little unhinged after this week's episode. I'm sure I'm not the only one. But in next week's preview, the clips of Buck look like he's talking to Eddie and helping patch his wall in his bedroom...!

And then my brain did the thing where it goes: Buck talking (to Eddie, in Eddie's room, fixing his wall cleaning his mess,) in a hoodie, with loose curly hair, which, after Monday's episode, we've seen is early-morning-comfortable Buck. Extrapolating from that, it's not beyond the realm of possible to presume Buck spent the night at Eddie's...? (I've connected two dots.)

So anyway, that's what inspired this. I haven't written anything in literal months, or shared anything in longer, and then I wrote this in a couple hours and sat on it for two days agonizing over it.

This is dedicated to @tulipintulle, because she is my bestest fandom friend, and keeps me appraised of the latest happenings, and listens to me rant about our stupid weewoo show (affectionate).

Buck leaves his loft after an explosive fight with Taylor that he thinks ended in a breakup? Neither of them actually said the words, so he's not sure... All he knows is that that's the last place he wants to be right now.

He's in his car driving to Eddie's house before he remembers that he and Christopher aren't home; they're still in Texas celebrating Eddie's dad's retirement. Buck briefly considers changing direction and heading to Maddie's instead, before deciding against it. She's at Chimney's, helping him settle in after being released from the hospital, and while he knows she wouldn't begrudge him the use of her couch, her's isn't the couch he wants to sleep on.

Buck pulls up to Eddie's and parks on the street, already feeling calmer than he had since seeing the news report on tv the night before. The feeling of peace only grows as he unlocks the door and lets himself inside, toeing off his shoes and dropping his hastily packed duffle by the door. He turns a lamp on in the otherwise dark living room, and collapses back into the couch.

The silence of the empty house envelopes him, but doesn't press in on him the way it had while packing his bag at the loft. Taylor had stormed out, going for a walk she'd said, and Buck had used her escape to make his own. Cowardly? Maybe. But he's said all he could, and more than a few things he'd aimed to hurt, just a little, just to try to make her see sense, and if she isn't going to try to understand where he's coming from... well, he knows better than to keep beating against a brick wall.

Buck would have thought he was too keyed up on adrenaline after the fight to fall asleep, but apparently he's wrong, since the next thing he knows he's startling awake at the sound of the door being unlocked. He rubs his eyes and twists to look over his shoulder at the door. What is Eddie doing home so early? Or, maybe it's late.

It's completely dark outside, and Eddie shuffles in carrying a sleeping Christopher, carefully closing the door behind him. "Hey, Buck," Eddie says lowly.

"Eddie? Everything okay? I thought you weren't coming back until Tuesday?" Buck finishes rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and yawns around the end of his question.

Eddie ducks his head and hides his fond smile in Christopher's messy hair. "It is Tuesday, Buck."

"It is?" Buck might be more tired than he thought, if he forgot when Eddie was coming home.

Eddie huffs a soft laugh, barely more than a puff of air blown out his nose, and says "Let me put Chris to bed, and then we can talk about why you're asleep on my couch in my empty house." He says it so fondly that Buck knows he doesn't mean anything by it, but he still stands up and straightens out his jacket he never took off, feeling a little guilty about imposing on Eddie when he's just gotten back from a trip.

Buck had thought he had another day before Eddie got back, a whole 24 hours to decompress from his life imploding, figure out if he still had a girlfriend - or even wanted to - and sort out if he needed to find a new place to sleep for the foreseeable future. Now he's left floundering for an explanation to Eddie's unasked question about what he's doing there as the man himself backs carefully out of his son's room and gently closes the door.

"Want a beer?" Eddie asks as he slips out of his boots and nudges them next to Buck's. The sight of their shoes lying next to each other's momentarily distracts Buck, and he has to forcefully pull his attention away when Eddie quirks an eyebrow at him and points his thumb back over his shoulder in the direction of the kitchen, even as he takes a step forward toward Buck standing aimlessly in front of the couch.

"Nah, I- I should get going anyways. Get out of your hair, let you relax," Buck rambles. "It- it's late, and you just got in, and-"

"Buck," Eddie interrupts, "you don't have to leave." He crosses the rest of the way over to the couch, abandoning the idea of grabbing a beer.

"I don't want to impose," Buck barely starts to speak before Eddie is shaking his head softly.

"You're not imposing. You're always welcome here." One side of Eddie's mouth lifts in a smile, and he ducks his head to catch Buck's eye when he tries to lower his gaze. "Everything okay with you?" Eddie nods over to Buck's duffle, still lying where he dropped it on the floor, a single sock and his phone charger spilling out where he hadn't pulled the zipper all the way closed in his earlier haste.

Buck feels his face flush, and finally breaks eye contact with Eddie to say "Taylor and I broke up. I think."

"You think?"

Buck winces. "It's complicated. We- we had a fight, and- and then she left, and then I left, and I don't really want to go back there tonight- I don't know if I want to go back there at all-" Buck cuts off his rambling with a sharp inhale of realization. "I don't want to go back to her."

Eddie seems to sense there's more to the story, but glances at his watch, and only says "Well, like I said, you're welcome here, as long as you need. Hey," Eddie pauses, and catches and holds Buck's gaze, "as long as you need, Buck, okay?"

Buck can only nod in awe and relief and gratitude.

Eddie smiles at him, and claps him gently on the arm. "C'mon, you get your stuff ready for bed, I'll get the pillows, and we can talk more in the morning."

Buck ducks his head down again, before lifting his gaze slightly to smile gratefully at Eddie. "Yeah, okay."

Eddie squeezes Buck's arm gently before letting go, and turns to go to the hall closet for the spare pillow and blanket Buck uses when he crashes on the couch. Buck heads to his bag and digs through it for the things he needs for bed, pulling out a clean pair of socks, cut off sweats, and a hoodie to sleep in. He thinks he forgot his toothbrush, but it doesn't matter since he's kept one here for longer than he can remember anyways.

He wonders at that, while he changes and brushes his teeth in the bathroom, that he's had a spare toothbrush here for longer than his and Taylor's entire relationship. It's silly, but it feels like a sign, that Buck has a home here, has had a home here, for longer than he's tried to make one elsewhere. He has a fleeting thought about some things being worth the work, while others feel like a struggle in futility, before he forces all thoughts out of his head.

Eddie said it's time for bed, and that they'll talk tomorrow. He'll tell Buck all about Texas, and his not-screwed-up/screwed-up family, and Buck will try to sum up the craziness of the past few days. Maybe they'll make pancakes; Buck wonders if Eddie's newfound culinary skills extend to breakfast foods beyond cereal.

Buck heads back out to the living room, where Eddie's apparently waiting for him after having made up the couch to sleep on. They look at each other in comfortable silence for a moment, Buck with his hands stuffed in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie picking at his nails, before Eddie steps forward.

"Goodnight, Buck," he says, and instead of walking past him down the hallway to his own room, Eddie pulls him into a hug. It shouldn't be unexpected, but Buck is still surprised enough that it takes him a moment to pull his hands out from where they're trapped between them so he can bring them around Eddie to hold him close as well.

The hug is everything they haven't said tonight, can't say in the fragile dark of night, and is everything Buck needs.

Sooner than Buck wishes, they're pulling away. Eddie tells him goodnight one more time, before padding softly down the hall to his bedroom. Buck turns the lamp off, and settles into the couch to go to sleep. They'll talk tomorrow, and Eddie will be there for Buck, just like Buck's been there for Eddie, will always be there for Eddie. Buck closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep with a smile on his face. He knows, somehow, everything will be okay.

#911 fox #911 fic #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #5x17 coda #could also be #5x18 speculation #pre-relationship buddie #buckley diaz family #christopher diaz #christopher is only there for like three lines #taylor kelly #taylor is only mentioned and not actually there but i don't want to ruffle any feathers #911 spoilers #just in case #tink types

[casualghostfan]

Poison, chapter 1

This is my first fic on tumblr, so be patient with me, please. Also this is my first fiction after a long writer's block, so if you could hype me up a little, that would be very appreciated ♥ 

A/N: Reyna, half ghoul and half human, has always stuck out like a sore thumb. But not to cardinal Terzo. But what changes when the cardinal is to become Papa? (Largely inspired by Poison by Alice Cooper)

Warnings: friends to enemies to lovers, fuff, angst, hurt/no comfort, not beta-read (this is my first fic so feel free to suggest other warnings)

____________________________

The sun had barely begun to shine through the thick foliage behind her window, but Reyna was already up with a pen in her hand and a sketchbook in the other. She needed more time, she needed it to be perfect. There were only a couple of days left until the ascension and by that time, the facepaint for the new Papa had to be chosen. So she relentlessly dragged the pen on the paper, over and over again. Thank Satanas for her half-ghoul eyes. If she were human, it would still be too dark for her to see. Still, she had to squint a little bit. Her eyesight could not match that of a pureblood ghoul.

Reyna gave out a quiet sigh. Not good enough. Her eyesight or the sketch? Maybe both. Being a hybrid between a human and a ghoul, neither side had claimed her to be one of them. She herself was torn in between, not knowing if it would be better to fully accept her ghoulish side or to try to snuff it out completely. Deep down, she wanted it. To be completely human. Her eyes would be blue or green or brown, not unnaturally yellow and cat-like. Her canines wouldn't protrude so much, giving her a toothy smile resembling a shark. Her ears would be round and pretty, not slightly pointy. Her skin would have a pale greyish tint but it could be pink or brown or black, maybe she could even tan a little and would have to worry about the sun scorching her skin and covering it with blisters if she were not careful enough. At least she didn't have a tail. That way, she could at least pretend she had more in common with humans. And maybe that way she could stand by Terzo’s side without shame.

But she knew Terzo didn't mind her cat eyes or sharp teeth. Hell, he would even compliment her on them, saying how much he liked them. Piccola gattina, he would call her. Reyna pretended to hate the nickname, though it made her blush. No, cardinal Terzo didn't mind that his best friend was a half-ghoul. But it won't be long until he ascends. What about then? Cardinal Terzo didn't mind, but would Papa Emeritus Terzo be the same? Reyna could only hope so. But alas, he never gave her a reason not to trust him. So she bit her lip and concentrated once more on the paper in front of her, pouring all her love and faith for Terzo into the sketch.

When he asked her to design his papal paint, she couldn't believe it. “Terzo, I am no artist. What if it gets rejected? Don't you want a professional to do it?” she panicked a little bit, but the cardinal smiled and caressed her shoulder reassuringly. 

“Cara, there is no one better for the task than mia piccola gattina. You have been by my side since we were children. I want to bear the strokes of your hand on my face for the rest of my life. A constant reminder of someone I hold so dearly in my heart,” he pressed a chaste kiss on the back of her hand, which made her blush. Terzo was always a little flirty with everyone and it made more than one sibling of sin fawn over the young man, but lately he toned it down a lot. A rumour was spreading about the cardinal finally choosing a partner. But it was only a rumour, right?

So there she was, sketching day and night. She designed a few facepaints, not sure which one would Terzo like. Her room was filled with silent sounds of pen scratching against the paper, occasional huffs and puffs of frustration and very faint rustling of leaves in the wind outside the window. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. The sound tore right through the quiet room and left a faint ringing in Reyna’s ears. 

“Gattina, it’s me. I haven’t seen you at breakfast, so I brought you some.” 

Her lips stretched into a wide smile. Of course it was him. He would always take care of her. She shot out of her chair, stretching her limbs a little on her way to the door. Behind it stood Terzo, hair neatly slicked back as always, dressed in his black cassock with an inverted cross hanging from his neck. He would look very serious, if it wasn't for the huge grin on his lips. In his hand he held something that looked like some kind of a sweet pastry. She only hoped so as she snatched it from the cardinal’s hand.

“So, how is the designing process going? Did you make some progress?” Terzo asked as he plopped down on her still unmade bed. 

“Yes, quite a lot actually. I have a few suggestions for you.”

“Cara, I asked for one sketch. You didn't have to trouble yourself and make more.”

“Oh, don't worry, I only made a few,” she waved her hand dismissively and threw him the sketchbook. He caught it mid-air and began browsing through the pages. 

His eyes widened. “A few? This is almost full!” he exclaimed, but Reyna only shrugged her shoulders. He let out a sigh. “You know what? You show me your favourite. What do you think would best suit your soon-to-be Papa?”

Reyna thought very long and hard about it as she flicked through the pages. She didn't realise she was biting her lip until Terzo touched it. It was featherlight, only a brush of leather against her skin. 

“Don't do that, cara,” Terzo said in a voice so quiet it was but a whisper. His eyes shone with something Reyna couldn't quite put her finger on. Something dangerous, maybe. Something fun. But then, as if realising how close he got to her, he cleared his throat and pulled back his gloved hand. 

“So? What's your suggestion? You've been staring into that sketchbook for quite a while now.”

Reyna had to shake her head as if it could help with her scattered thoughts. Her lip still burned with the sudden touch of Terzo’s hand, but she tried not to think about it. She turned the pages a little more until she found what she was looking for.

“This one. I think this one would suit you the most.”

“This one? Isn't it a little bit scary, gattina?”

“Maybe a little bit, but it's also quite sexy, if you ask me.”

He hummed a little. “Sexy, you say? Don't you think I'm sexy enough?” 

She laughed. “Well, you know, you could always use a little help. Satanas knows those papal robes don't really add to the sexappeal.” 

“Oh, but you haven't even seen them, cara. I look spectacular. A true sight to sin.”

“Of course you do,” she rolled her eyes with a smile as she tore the page out of the sketchbook and pressed it into Terzo’s hand. “But still, I think this one is the best.”

“We’ll see what the Clergy thinks about it. I bet Sister Imperator already has a few ideas, but I promise I will try to convince her about it.” With a wink he stretched his hand for the sweet pastry still untouched in Reyna’s hand. She pulled back with a hiss which showed her pointy teeth.

“Don't you try to steal my food!”

“You didn't even touch it yet! Don't you think I deserve a treat for bringing you breakfast to bed?”

“Should have brought your own.” she growled and started to shove the pastry down her throat so quickly she almost choked on it. Terzo lunged at her, bringing her down onto the bed with him. But by that time, she had already stuffed all of the pastry into her mouth with only a piece sticking out of her lips. Terzo hovered above her, his chest suddenly rising and falling rapidly. Reyna could almost feel his heart beating like that of a race horse. His eyes shot down to her lips, then back up to her eyes.

“I think I should at least get a taste,” he whispered and lowered himself. His lips skimmed hers shortly as he took a bite. With closed eyes he moaned silently and she was glad he couldn't see her. Her greyish skin did nothing to hide her red cheeks.

He opened his eyes. “Strawberry jam? No wonder you didn't want to share.” He licked his lips slowly. “I would have absolutely devoured it.”

Could she be any more red? Reyna didn't think so. Terzo chuckled and the vibrating sound sent shivers down her spine. Suddenly, he pulled away and Reyna immediately found herself missing the heat of his body.

Terzo stood up and straightened his cassock. He looked once more at the sketch, then neatly folded it and stuffed it into his pocket. As he turned to leave, he looked over his shoulder.

“You're right, cara. Dangerous and sexy. That suits me the best.”

___________________________________________

Reyna couldn't help it. She replayed the events of this morning in her head over and over again until her smile couldn't get any wider. She even left her canines poking out of her mouth a little, something she meticulously tried to always hide when she was in public. Today, she had been assigned to work in the garden, something she truly despised and not only because of the sun nipping at her nape constantly. But right now, the garden work didn't seem that bad.

The siblings of sin gathered before Primo. Once the chatter settled, he started giving out tasks, reading the names from a paper in his hand.

“Reyna - weeding.”

She nodded. Primo waited for her usual eyeroll or a deep sigh, but it never came. He thought it strange, but did not comment on it.

The weeding did dampen her mood a little bit. Reyna hated how messy it was, how the gloves felt against her hand, but going gloveless meant dirt behind her nails that she would then later have to scrub out. So she stuck with the gloves. The sun didn't have much strength to its rays given it was only the middle of spring, but Reyna was glad for her long sleeved shirt and the sunhat she decided to wear. Direct sunlight was always a pain for her.

She finished weeding one large flower bed and stood up, stretching a little. Maybe it was time for a little break? Sure, she must have been working for hours by now. She decided to seek shelter under the large willow tree. Her and Terzo always favoured that place and frequently hung out there. But as she was about to turn the corner, she heard voices. One, she was very familiar with. The other, however, she was not.

The male voice sounded flirtatious, as always. The female one giggled. Then there was a suspicious silence. Reyna decided to take a peek. But right as she did, she suddenly wished she would have just left, that she wouldn't be so stupid and nosy and just found another place to rest. Because underneath that willow tree she spotted Terzo with another sister of sin. She was sprawled across his lap, kissing him and he… Oh, Satanas, he was kissing her back.

Reyna’s whole world began to spin fast. Nausea overcame her. She stumbled and it must have made a sound, because the kissing couple suddenly turned their attention to her.

“I'm sorry. I- I'll just go,” she mumbled and turned around. Her feet began walking fast through the weaving paths of the garden. Everything around her was a blur. Maybe because of the spinning sensation that still lingered, but Reyna suspected it had something to do with the tears that stung her eyes.

She felt a large hand on her shoulder halting her escape. “Reyna,” pleaded the voice. “Turn around.”

She shook her head. Reyna. Not cara, not gattina, just Reyna. 

“Please. I feel like we need to talk.”

“What is there to talk about?” she uttered through gritted teeth, but still didn't turn around. If she would have, the dam would release all of the stinging tears it held right now.

“I have heard that you have a partner now. I just thought… Well, you could have at least told me!”

“Her? Oh no, she's not my partner. No. Why would you think that?”

She turned around with anger overcoming her. “I have a better question. Why would you give me false hope? Why would you behave like that around me, getting under my skin, only to throw it away with the nearest sibling of sin who lifts their habit to you?” she hissed, canines ready to tear through his neck.

“False hope? Reyna, there was never any hope at all. Don't you get it?” His face contorted into an expression of disgust. “You're a ghoul.”

The way he said the last word felt like her heart shattering into millions of pieces. Reyna could feel them scratching at her chest cavity. She was sure that if she looked down on her shirt, there would be bloodstains there.

“I thought you didn't mind. You never did,” she whispered.

Terzo ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it a little bit. Reyna always liked it that way, but right now, she couldn't even look at him. Not when her heart, no, her whole world was shattering into pieces.

“Reyna, you do not belong. You never did. Not with ghouls and certainly not with people. How could you think for one second that you were fitting to be by Papa’s side?”

There was static ringing in her ears as the dam spilled all of the tears it was holding back. “But… The paint… I don't understand,” she whispered in a broken voice.

“A goodbye. Sort of.” Terzo shrugged his shoulders. It seemed like this wasn't a big deal for him. Of course. He would be Papa in a few days. Being seen in public with a ghoul, even as friends, would be scandalous. It could stain his whole career.

Reyna couldn't look at him anymore. “You don't mean that, Terzo. I know you don't,” she wept.

He lifted her chin with his thumb, but it wasn't that gentle caressing touch she was used to. This was harsh and hurt a bit, as he dug his fingers into her skin. “Yes. I do. Every. Single. Word.”

Reyna’s heart could take it anymore. She turned around and ran, running fast and far. Her lungs burned with tears and lack of oxygen, but it was nothing compared to the pain she felt in her heart. To the shame. He was right. How could she think there was ever anything between them?

___________________________________________

Five days later, the ministry was buzzing with preparations. Today, the cardinal would become the Papa. Everything needed to be perfect. And it would be, sister Imperator would take care of it.

Reyna didn't go to the ceremony. She fell very sick with some stomach bug and she didn't want anyone to catch it, too. At least that's what she told everyone. But there was one person that knew the truth.

Terzo stepped out to the platform in his papal robes, face still unpainted. His mismatched eyes searched the crowd beneath him, but did not find what they were looking for.

“Cardinal?” uttered sister Imperator through gritted teeth. He didn't even realise she finished with her speech. He cleared his throat and recited the verse he was supposed to, swearing himself to the eternal service of the One bellow. And as two sisters of sin approached him with black and white paint, he closed his eyes and pretended that different fingers were painting his face. 

That night, neither Reyna, nor Terzo slept. They were both thinking.

She had heard he wore the paint she designed. Good. It suited him. He was dangerous.

He had heard she fell ill, but he also knew that was a lie. It pained him, but it was for the best. That way, she was out of Clergy’s watchful eyes. That way, she was safe.

#the band ghost #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus terzo #terzo #papa terzo #terzo x oc #papa emeritus terzo x oc #papa emeritus iii x oc #ghost band #copia #cardinal copia #cardinal terzo #enemies to lovers #friends to enemies #angst #hurt/comfort #terzo fic #thebandghost fic #fanfic #fluff #terzo fluff #terzo angst #nameless ghouls #original character #aether #dewdrop ghoul #sodo ghoul #phantom ghoul

[space-blue]

Hello:)

I keep having debates with friends about Sevika’s intentions when telling Silco to let jinx come to him after Sevika was just tied from the ceiling BY jinx. On one hand, some think it was a genuine display of empathy.. and on the other, some say it was manipulation to keep jinx away (let her get worse mentally and not interfere, etc..).

So I was wondering what your thoughts are on Sevika’s “I didn’t always see eye to eye with my old man” quote?

When she was advising Silco, She seemed like she genuinely wanted to help a bit. The “she’ll come to you when she’s ready” advice fits more to Sevika’s personality than jinx’s. It makes me wonder if maybe that’s not the first time she’s advised Silco about Jinx.

Noooo, Anon, not the true trick question!!

I honestly don't know. My first few viewings, I took her at face value. She seems so honest. She seems to feel vulnerable emotions as she recalls her father (who I like to imagine as a meek, bespectacled, jersey wearing horticulturist or chemtech. A man who bewitched a strong woman who then died, and left him to raise a firebrand daughter. I like to think she often lost her temper with him because of his peaceful, non-confrontational ways. That she blew up in his face and left for days on end, but he was always right there when she was ready to return to him).

But then someone introduced the idea that she's hoping Jinx blows up to me and fuck it makes too much sense.

Jinx just fucked her up nice and good. Sevika openly voiced the desire for Jinx to blow up and Silco to discard her as a result.

It just makes sense that she'd do anything to make this happen.

BUT. And I'm going into headcanons here... We also don't know what went down between Silco and Sevika as he took her down.

Did he mention the gem? Did he make Sevika understand how important her role is right now, and how vital it is to prevent her sister's interference?

Because if he did, we can then clear the air. Sevika could huff and puff and bury the hatchet, because weaponizing the gem could fast forward them to the Free Zaun she CLEARLY believes in.

However, from a writer's perspective, the scene of Silco freeing her could also be used for a building inner monologue that sets her completely against Jinx and prepares Sevika to lie.

Also... We never see her lie much. If at all?? But I guess she wasn't lying to Silco either. Maybe that's why her emotion is genuine. She may be sharing this honest advice, fully knowing it'll contribute to Jinx blowing up.

We just don't know, because we also don't know what past problems with Jinx have looked like. Does Sevika think Silco is overbearing? Is he? Would seeking Jinx out have changed much?

Because she does come and find him a little later, and while she's very aggressive, Silco seems to be able to talk her down from her rage.

I think the only difference is if Silco could catch her before she blew the flare, and that's before he finds Sevika so... Too late.

Mmmh. Thinking through this, it seems that Sevika's delay of him is of little importance. Sure he could heal her wound better, and maybe ease her from her splintering crisis, but would she not still finish her bombs? When she goes to the bridge, it's her doing Silco's bidding of taking care of the blockade, isn't it?

The only other thing she does is recall Cait's name.

So maybe the show isn't intending us to read that much into Sevika's words.

Also, if she fully means it, it makes her an even more devoted and loyal follower, capable of overcoming her personal wants and dislikes to help her boss/leader.

So I guess in the end it's largely up to the sort of interpretation you want to have for Sevika as a character.

#Sevika #Jinx #Silco #Arcane #Arcane meta #Meta #Anon ask #Tough one #Thanks though

[cavsansspice]

Hu Tao needs to file her taxes and Yanfei offers to help. For a price, of course.

Be sure to follow me here on Twitter!

---

It takes forever to corner her. 

Hu Tao is slippery; easy to find when she isn’t wanted around and impossible to track down when one actually needs her. And if there’s someone dead around? Even better because she’ll find you instead, offering her services with a wink, a well-punned pitch, and her business card. 

Yanfei taps her foot impatiently, the rhythm she strikes against the ground like a heartbeat. “You can’t avoid me forever,” she says a little too loud, drawing the eyes of those passing by. She knows that Hu Tao is there, though. Yanfei can practically taste it.

“Who, I, Hu Tao? Avoiding you?” Bingo. Yanfei turns to her right and finds Hu Tao grinning back, amused. 

“There are legal forms for you to fill,” starts Yanfei, already shifting through her bag. “They’ve been past for nearly a month—”

“I do believe that I told Mr. Zhongli to submit those,” replies Hu Tao, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her tone then takes a dry tone. “What else am I paying him for? It’s not as though he prepares—”

“That’s quite enough of that. I don’t need the grisly details of what’s done to your…” A pause as Yanfei wrinkles her nose. “Clients.” Another pause. “And don’t blame Mr. Zhongli! It’s your paperwork, not his—” 

Hu Tao rolls her eyes in a dramatic flourish, acting as though legalese is the bane of her existence.

Which it is. And Yanfei gets it—truly she does. Hu Tao runs a tight ship and her business is one of the most legitimate around. There’ll always be dead to lay to rest and there’ll always be people who need that comfort. Yanfei would be terrible at it.

But, it isn’t an excuse to skirt around the bylaws, no matter how enterprising Hu Tao might think it. Hu Tao knows these laws as well as her. Yanfei finally turns to address her again only to find Hu Tao thirty paces down the road, having snuck off without a peep. 

Yanfei is quick to follow, her book slapping against her hip as she hurries after. “Hu Tao!”

To her surprise, Hu Tao listens, stopping dead and pivoting on her heels. “So, it’s like this,” she says, meeting Yanfei’s face with a mischievous smirk. “The Parlor’s just been so busy that I kinda forgot. And it isn’t that I don’t want to fill them out, I just—”

“They are tax forms,” cuts in Yanfei. “No one wants to file those but they still do.”

Hu Tao huffs, arms cross over her puffed chest. “I pride myself in following the law, I’ll have you know!” Then, she thumbs her chin in thought. “Actually, that reminds me. I have some questions that you might be able to answer. There’s this client—something about their brother adventuring. They refuse to think about my two-for-one deal even if it’d be good—”

“That would be a flat rate of six thousand Mora.” Yanfei’s smile is a little too sweet to be genuinely nice.

“Oh, you’re no fun.” Hu Tao’s cheeks puff as she pouts, making her look like a chipmunk.

“No one works for free, least of all you. You usually file your taxes—”

“I swear to you, it’s on my list—it’s just that it’s a long list. A long, long list of important things to do and Mr. Zhongli, bless his strangely old-fashioned soul, has been weirdly distracted lately.”

Yanfei blinks. “Mr. Zhongli is usually distracted.” He’s the most distracted man that she knows, head in the clouds, feet barely on the ground. Yanfei’s wondered before how he has never walked right off a cliff, he’s so dense at times.

“More so than usual, then,” says Hu Tao.

Yanfei believes it. Liyue Harbor is still rebuilding in the aftermath of the resurrection of Osial—part of the reason the Wansheng Funeral Parlor has been so very busy. It’s a good time to be in the business of death, morbid as it may be.

“Miss Hu Tao,” says Yanfei gently, “just be honest. You aren’t in trouble. I just need the paperwork sooner than later. And I certainly don’t want to be the one to have to temporarily close the Parlor down because your operating license has been temporarily suspended.”

“Aiyah—” Which is usually an exclamation, but here, Hu Tao sighs it, seemingly aggrieved. “So, it’s kinda dumb.”

“I promise you that it can’t be worse than anything I’ve seen and heard before.” Yanfei’s seen some weird stuff in her long life as legal counsel, some things so bad that she’s blocked them from her mind entirely. In one ear, right out the other.

Until she’s reminded of them, of course.

“Am I crazy, are the forms…you know—different.”

“Different?”

“Funky.” Hu Tao waves a hand vaguely. “Off, I guess. The numbers came out all wrong. And Morax above, I certainly didn’t let Mr. Zhongli run those because he doesn’t know a Mora from a rock. My math’s certainly sound.”

Yanfei taps her chin. “I’m still looking over the new tac addendums that the Qixing passed. Someone has to pay for the Jade Chamber, as you well know. I wasn’t aware that it might affect business seeing that they are primarily private taxes for citizens.”

Hu Tao grunts. “Well, it seems like it did. I’ve been crunching the numbers again to double-check.”

Yanfei pats the book at her side with care. “I wonder,” she says as she thinks, pages and references numbers, and law codes coming to mind.

“Wondering is never a good thing when it comes to you.” Hu Tao regards her suspiciously. 

Yanfei turns back to her, a new idea burning a hole in her pocket. “Why don’t we do the forms together?”

Hu Tao blinks and then screeches. “Ehhhh?”

Yanfei winces at the piercing yell that cuts through the air. “It’d be a win-win,” she says, rubbing gently at her forehead. “I help you and you help me. We can do it while sharing a nice lunch. I’m dying to know what’s on Xiangling’s menu today.”

Hu Tao hums as she thinks, licking her parched lips as she watches Yanfei’s face for any twitch of dishonesty. Yanfei tries to not be offended. As if I’d lie.

Not that she doesn’t craft deals to benefit her, of course. That’s just the cost of business. “I swear,” says Yanfei, “no tricks up my sleeve. Only solid legal advice.”

“Might as well. Mr. Zhongli is useless when it comes to this sort of thing. How’s he lived so long? Like, how do you become an adult without knowing the most basic of things?” Hu Tao sighs in exasperation.

Yanfei knows, of course, her mouth curled into a smirk. “You hired him, which means you can fire him.”

Hu Tao doesn’t immediately answer, shooting Yanfei a rather annoyed look. “He makes good tea,” she says. 

Yanfei thinks that is a terrible reason for putting up with a subpar employee. She rolls her eyes, foot tapping against the ground, that earlier impatience making its rounds again. “Look, do you want my help or not?”

“I, Hu Tao of the Wansheng Funeral Parlor, happily accept the bargain.” They shake hands, the deal made, and turn for Wanmin Restaurant. 

It isn’t until they’re settled into a table there that Yanfei generously quotes a total sum for her impending legal fees.

#genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin fanfics #genshin fanfiction #genshin impact #genshin #Hu Tao #Yanfei #fanfiction

[ulircursed]

(Late Bday ask!)

She only learns his birthday through the whispers of others. Never once had he told his niece his birthday (or if he had she simply hadn’t been listening). Normally something like this could cause her to puff out her cheeks and let out a huff, harassing the older Yngvi for not telling her something so important— because they were family, and there was no reason to keep anything from family.

But with everything that had gone on following her own birthday, the thief had no way of contacting him even if she wanted to.. And as sad as it was to admit, she didn’t really want to. Not yet, anyway.

— — —

He finds out about his gift the same way Patty finds out his birthday— through the whispers of others. There’s chatter in the halls about a delicious smell coming from a corner in the library and that a young girl had set it up, tussling with anyone who even thought about sneaking in for a bite. She’s going off about how it’s for someone in particular— for this certain someone’s birthday.

She isn’t there by the time he arrives. If he ever does. All that’s left in the corner where they once partook in Patty’s ‘Princess Lessons’ is a table filled with tooth rotting sweets, clearly unsure of what his favourite was or would be, and a letter.

It’s written in scribbles that could be mistaken for cursive..by the blind— and a drawing of their house signet rather than a stamp. It was a symbol of their shared name, one which she saw only as an accessory until fairly recent.

Uncle Andrei,

I’ve never been good with words, something I’m sure you learned real fast, but I still wanted to write you something small. I know you don’t want us talking anymore— and I still dunno why..but I won’t push it for now. One day I’ll get you to crack and tell me everything, but for now I’ll wait! A thief always strikes at the most opportune moments after all!

Back in Judgral I always heard these awful stories about you— betrayal and killing and all that— but after meeting you here..I got a hard time really believing they’re about the same man. Sure you were a lil stuck up, but I was never scared of you for one second! And even if I thought you were just trying to make me all proper for appearance and pride, I really did feel like you cared enough to help. I still do. I always looked forward to going to them, not just to become a proper Princess or anything..but I just liked getting to see you. I wanted to make you proud just as much as I want anyone else in our family to be proud of me.

To be honest I have no idea what the point of this letter even is. You might never even get to see it! But it makes me feel a lil better getting it off of my chest. I just..hope one day you’ll change your mind, old man. I only ever had Febail growing up, so finding all of this family here at the academy’s been hard. And weird. But I’m not ready to lose them all again— including you.

Happy Birthday, Uncle Andrei. I love you!

Patricia Yngvi

     "I’ve never even noticed there was an extra section in the library there!” “Yeah, but it’s still in the library, you know? Pretty sure we���re not supposed to have food in there...” “I think even the librarian gave up trying to get the stuff cleared out. Sheesh, whoever’s birthday it is must really be a big deal.” “Some guy, I think. Never heard his name before. Probably not in our house, or if he is, then he never comes to class.”

     The group of students pay him no mind as they pass by, but even as Andrei makes no effort to eavesdrop, their chatter still reaches his ears. There are hundreds of people within the walls of the monastery, he tells himself. Why make a fool of himself out of the assumption that this has anything to do with him?

     But even what little he could piece together nags at him, and he turns, instinct proving more honest than the thoughts within his mind.

     The library is all but deserted when he steps within its doors — apparently, students do not appreciate going to a supposedly quiet place to study, only to hear sounds of fighting from just a few bookshelves away — but when he makes his way to the hidden corner, there is also no one to be found. Instead, the table is full with sweets, and there is a letter on the table, bearing a familiar mark. Andrei swallows, then steps forward to pick it up.

     ‘Uncle Andrei,’ the letter begins, and his heartbeat picks up, mentally bracing himself for what accusations or resentment that would doubtlessly be flung his way. Even the presence of everything here does not change the indelible fact that she must be angry. The way he had broken the news to her had been sudden and unfair, he knows.

     It was also necessary. He cannot possibly argue otherwise.

     Andrei frowns as his gaze travels along the first two lines. He would’ve thought the reason to be obvious the moment Patricia laid eyes on her mother... unless, for some reason, she has yet to find out. That is certainly a possibility.

     (A more likely one than any alternative he could dare to hope for.)

     But as he moves down the page, his throat gradually tightens as the harsh words he had expected never comes, instead the feelings as simple and earnest as she’s ever shown towards him. ‘I wanted to make you proud just as much as I want anyone else in our family to be proud of me.’ (He understands that feeling.)

     His vision blurs by the end, and he has to turn hastily away from the paper before his tears could smudge the ink. Family. It is what they are, of course — he’d never thought to deny that. No, blood never changes. Not with Patricia, not even with Brigid. But at the same time... he shuts his eyes with a trembling exhale, momentarily heedless of the escaping tears.

     Family had hardly mattered when his sister had raised Yewfelle towards him. It’s something that he’s long accepted is an important, but discardable concept in the face of acts one considered unforgivable to the family name. To be fair, he’d done it first, with Brigid.

     That Patricia is not as willing to simply give up on him at the first sign of conflict...

     (It’s more than you deserve.)                     It’s nothing he could’ve ever expected.

     He wipes the tears away before moving to gather the food (did she make all this? she might have mentioned cooking at some point but he’d hardly expected something of this scope). Returning the corner of the library to its former state, Andrei slips out of the doors once more, arms full and heart heavier than when he first entered.

     ‘I’m not ready to lose them all again— including you.’

     Perhaps he owes her more than just a simple letter.

#patricia cake yngviiiiii u kill me......... #lockpicnic #UGH andrei has so naturally thought of her as a niece from the beginning that sometimes i forget how close they are in age #ur uncle's still just a lil guy ok he's also rlly dumb pls forgive him #tbh he really truly thought his goodbye letter (which is also a birthday letter like RUDE man) would be the end of it #being proven wrong in this is a giant shock (positive tho) to him #(also i've had an hc since early on that andrei does like sweet things so he will actually eat all of this) #(patricia who is instinctively good at guessing her family members' tastes w/o foreknowledge)

[redhead-reporter]

º ✧ 。 continued from HERE with @hebled bc beta !

Beck could huff, puff and BLOW the house down for all MJ cared - all of it meant he was alive, that he was here to annoy her rather than becoming a bittersweet memory. Maybe that was incredibly SELFISH of her, considering how long and difficult recovery had and would continue to be for him. But having confronted the very real possibility over the last few weeks that she'd never get a chance to be annoyed with him again? She'd already decided that having him, in whatever state that meant day to day, was ALL that mattered. He could yell, scream, cry - none of it would scare her away or make her love him any less.

LOVE. MJ knew that's what it was between them, at least on her end; maybe she always had known on some level and just refused to admit it to herself. But it had become painfully, glaringly OBVIOUS in the weeks she'd been superglued to his side, staying in the apartment without him to look after Bear and practically dedicating her whole life to making sure he got better. Now wasn't the time to tell him - she wasn't sure if that time would ever come.

But it was certainly nice to FEEL it, even if she was doing it alone.

"Okay." she agrees with a squeeze of his hand in hers when he lets her stay, brushing some of his hair out of his face to kiss his forehead before straightening up again. She should've known her Brit would want some TEA for his homecoming - it's so him it makes her heart squeeze. "Of course. C'mon, Baby B, you can help me ..." she grins, making a little kissing sound towards Bear before beginning to rummage through the cabinets. "I've been calling him that lately. You know, cause Beck and Bear ... B and Baby B. It felt right." she explains with her back to him.

Which is why that soft pet name slipping from his lips catches her by surprise.

With a tiny gasp, she turned back around to look at him. To see the smile on his lips that MELTS her heart, knowing how hard he must've worked (literally and emotionally) to get it out. Tea forgotten, MJ carefully climbed into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck before leaning in for a proper KISS - their first since that night.

#º ✧ 。after all this time i'm still into you mj && beck #º ✧ 。not the girl i was or used to be insomniac verse