#so expect them popping out here and there~

[dollfacefantasy]

Like Lovers Do

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: Bored with the RPD's fundraising banquet, you pull Leon away to have some fun in a storage closet.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, public sex, friends with benefits

word count: 2.1k

a/n: the chris and leon drabble is next i swear. i just change my mind like every five seconds lmao. i hope everyone enjoys :) as always, i appreciate all the reblogs and comments <3

Applause sounds throughout the banquet hall as Leon flashes his awkward smile. He holds up the small, cheap trophy he’d won, the words Rookie of the Year displayed on the plaque at the base. He’s quick to walk away from the microphone and exit the stage, returning to his seat next to you. Your boss takes his place, but your attention is consumed by him.

“Wow. I see how it is. Don’t even mention me in your speech for your prestigious award,” you say in a hushed voice, a grin spreading across your features.

His cheeks tinge pink as his own smile graces your vision. “I did mention you. I said my partner,” he responds, “Plus, don’t act like you really care about these things.”

You roll your eyes playfully. It was true. You didn’t care about the little superlatives the department gave out for entertainment at the annual fundraising banquet. But that wouldn’t stop you from complaining about your loss to Leon and his perceived lack of appreciation for you.

“I do care actually. And I guess that’s true, but it wasn’t very specific,” you say, “If I’d won, I would have mentioned you.”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes as he shakes his head. “My sincerest apologies,” he says, connecting his eyes with yours.

Just seeing him like this was getting you all worked up. He looked as handsome as you’d ever seen him in his suit. You’d also been wanting to ditch this thing for a while now. You’d shown up and said hi to everyone as you were expected to do. Now you’d grown tired of watching your colleagues galavant around with their dates and swap stories from the job.

“Hmmm… well you know. I think I have a way you could make it up to me,” you say, keeping your voice quiet to not catch the attention of anyone sitting near you.

Leon raises an eyebrow, but of course, he knew exactly what you meant. You both were insatiable for one another. That small lilt in your voice alone clued him in. You’d almost conditioned him to pop a boner when he heard it.

“Do you?” he teases back.

“Mhm,” you nod, rubbing your hand up and down his thigh beneath the table, “Follow me in a couple minutes.”

You rise from your seat. You make sure to be quiet and not draw any attention to yourself, but your hands still rest on your stomach, giving the appearance that you’re suffering some sort of sudden illness. You walk away from the tables and over to the hallway doors, the points of your heels softly clicking against the ground as you go.

Once you’re out, you turn back and watch Leon through the little slit of a window in the door. You see him wait for a few minutes and then look around as if he’s concerned for where you’ve gone. Then he rises in the same way you did and makes his way to the same set of doors.

As he opens them, a giggle bursts from your lips and you pull his body against your own. The two of you lean in for a few kisses. “Nice work, superstar. I’m sure the next thing you’ll be winning is an oscar,” you tease.

“Shut up,” he grumbles as that blush grows a little stronger. He nips at your bottom lip and deepens the kiss before you pull away to walk further down the hall.

The RPD held this event at this place every single year. It was the first for both you and Leon, both freshly graduated. You look around curiously at your surroundings as you head to another door near the ones you’d entered from. You notice the hallway lined with academy graduation photos. Upon closer examination, you spot yourself in the one hanging next to the new door 

“Aww, we look so young here,” you coo, looking at the framed picture of your and Leon’s class. 

A chuckle comes from over your shoulder before you feel him kissing up your neck. “It was only a year ago,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, but you have such a baby face here,” you tease.

“What can I say? A year of working with you has really worn me down,” he replies.

He cracks open the door, and you see inside is just a storage closet. You pull him by the collar of his suit into the small space. He follows eagerly and pushes you up against the wall.

“I’m so sure, Mr. Rookie of the Year,” you taunt, catching him in another kiss.

Your hand slides into his hair, threading through the blonde locks as your lips move with his. Meanwhile, his palms coast up your side, feeling the smooth fabric of your party dress beneath his fingers. His foot knocks into your ankle, a small signal for you to spread your legs.

“Well it’s not so shocking when you consider that I only won because half the time I’m on the job, I’m cleaning up your messes,” he jokes between kisses.

“I think between the two of us, you’re the messy one,” you say back and turn around to deepen the kiss.

His left hand rises to your breast on the same side, squeezing the mound and drawing a tender sigh from you. His right slides down your thigh and lifts your leg by the crux of your knee. He grinds his growing bulge against your panties, a soft moan falling from his lips at the familiar sensation.

This was far from the first time the two of you had done this. It was far from the first time you’d done this with other people only a few rooms away. At work, you’d done it in the bathrooms, the locker room, the dark room, the storage room in the other wing of offices. You’d even done it in Leon’s cruiser once on a boring night. Sometimes it felt surprising you even managed to make it to a secluded place.

You weren’t even fully sure of what you and Leon were to each other. Neither of you had ever put a title on this dance you did. You both let yourselves run on pure lust without much care for fine details. If you were being honest, you were pretty sure you were in love with him. You’d had a crush on him since your first day in the academy. He’d had you hooked on him since the first time you slept together on the night of your graduation in a drunken hurricane of unfiltered desire.

In your heart, not much had changed since that night. The two of you are still wrapped up in a flurry of kisses as he slowly rocks against you, grunting quietly. His eyes flutter shut as he sinks into the feeling of your body around his. Lowering his head, he starts kissing your neck again. Your noises are the same volume as his, just a bit whinier.

“We gotta be quick,” you mumble against the side of his head. You drag your nose against his soft tendrils of hair. A shaky breath blows against the side of his head.

“Don’t worry about that, baby. You heard ‘em out there. I get things done fast and efficiently,” he teases as his lips unlatch from your neck.

The cocky expression on his face only got you hotter. You pull him into a more aggressive kiss, your noses mashing against one another. His breaths fan over your face as his hands tug your panties down to your knees. He then cups both of your legs behind the knees, folding you in half against the wall.

He pins you there with his own weight as he pulls himself out of his pants. His fingers fish a condom out of his pocket and tear the foil quickly before tossing it aside, leaving it for some poor person to find at a later date. You don’t think of that in the moment though. You’re more enraptured with how you can feel the heat of his tip nudging at the wetness between your legs even with the latex barrier between you.

“Put it in,” you whimper and squirm in his grasp. The teasing side of you was fading fast as need took over.

He grins with a mocking look in his eyes, but he obliges you. He slips it in and lets out a deep breath, savoring the way you squeeze around him.

“Think you should’ve won most desperate,” he teases, “Or maybe neediest little slut.”

You go to defend yourself, but all that comes out is a whine. The confident side of him rears its head. It was kind of funny to you how your dynamic would shift once he got you craving his cock. Another mewl escapes you as his hips retract and push forward again.

“What was that? You know I’m right. You couldn’t even wait to get back to your apartment,” he continues.

He begins pumping his hips for real, and all you can get out for a moment are broken whimpers. He fucked you just right, always did. He was blessed with a thick cock that rubbed up against your insides in a way that felt like heaven. Your legs clamp against his sides as your head tilts back against the wall. The thrum of the bass starts vibrating through the cement again, letting you know they had turned on the music again in the other room.

“Fuck Leon…” you breathe before crying out sharply as he rotates his hips to hit your sweet spot.

Your own hand flies to your mouth to cover it and muffle any other noises. He smiles at the sight and kisses your cheek, resting his forehead against your temple.

“That’s right, gotta keep quiet. If anyone walked by and heard, we’d both be getting fucked,” he says and continues rocking the both of your bodies as he thrusts into you.

You nod. Your other arm wraps around him tight to keep yourself supported. You’re starting to sweat, but you can feel that he is too. Fucking fully clothed probably wasn’t the smartest idea either of you had indulged in, but it felt too good for you too honestly care. Your hand slips down of your face as the pleasure takes over a bit more.

“Leon… fuck, I can’t…” you moan softly.

He guides your hand back to your lips before returning his own to your knee to keep you up. His fingers dig into your legs with a bruising grip and he thrusts quicker.

“Yeah? You gonna cum already, baby? That’s pretty fast. Maybe that’s another award you should win,” he pants.

“Shut up,” you mumble against your hand as your hips start involuntarily rolling against his.

Your breasts push up against his chest as your body writhes against the wall. He just keeps going, wanting to work you to the edge you were fast approaching. His shaft slides in and out over and over. You smile as your head spins with the pleasure.

“I feel it coming,” he whispers, “I feel you getting all tight. Just cum for me. Let it out.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You let the coil inside you snap and moan into the palm of your hand. You buck and bury your head in the crook of his neck. His eyes close, focusing everything he has on his own release. It doesn’t take much longer before he’s attempting to silence his groans against your flesh. His hips jump and his knees quiver for a moment.

He holds inside you for a moment longer, letting the both of you come down before you attempt acting normal again. When that time comes though, he carefully pulls out of you and helps you back onto your feet. Your legs are kind of wobbly, but you maintain your balance. You work on fixing your dress and hair as Leon gets rid of the condom and puts himself back together.

You reach down to pull your panties up, but he stops you, shaking his head and smiling at you.

“Give ‘em to me,” he says.

You stare at him for a moment, in some form of disbelief, but you go with it. You liked the idea just as much as he did. Letting them fall to the floor, you step out of them and then pick them up and place them in his hand. He shoves them into his pocket, smug smirk on his face the whole time.

He then pulls you by your waist for one more kiss. “C’mon, we should go back now. Don’t want anybody thinking we ran off.”

You laugh a little and nod. “We should just run off though,” you say.

“Only a couple more hours and we can. My place or yours, we can go back and replay that all night long,” he says before giving you a smack on the ass and following you back to the hall to return to the party of unknowing guests.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil smut #resident evil x you #smut

[faithisyours]

Returning Home

Azriel x Fem!reader (or GN reader)

Summary: Azriel comes back from a long and slightly traumatic mission bloodied and filthy, so you give him a bath.

Warnings: fluff, blood, nudity but its not sexual, Az and reader are mated, reader caring for Azriel, not proofread,

Word Count: 2.6k (I’m sorry)

A/N: Whatisupyouguys I’m back with another disgustingly sweet fluffy Azriel fic for you. I’m a slut for caring for this poor man, so that is what you will receive. School has been kicking my ass but I was able to pop this sucker out and am working on more Az fics, some of them spicy, even. Also, if you have any ideas for fics and you’d like to share, I’m all ears. I am pretty busy with school but summer is approaching and I plan on writing a ton. Even though this is fluff, minors please gtfo. Enjoy!

You were awoken from your slumber when you heard the back door slam. It was one AM. Why was your door slamming at one AM? That is what you asked yourself, and you could not come up with a good reason. So, you silently slipped from the warm caress of your blankets into the chilled air of your bedroom, pulling on your robe and grabbing the bat Azriel liked to keep next to your bedside table as you tiptoed out of your room.

You made your way down the hallway towards the source of the noise, the bat held high above your shoulder. You didn't think the intruder was dangerous, but it's better to be safe than sorry. As you silently made your way towards the original source of noise, you heard off to your left a shuffling of feet. You pivoted, slinking your way now towards the kitchen.

You drew the bat back, gearing up to swing, and hurtled yourself through the kitchen. But you came to a screeching halt when you saw your mate, Azriel, leaning over the kitchen counter, still as a statue, not even looking up to acknowledge your presence. He was covered in blood and grime, his leathers were muddied and damp, his shadows frantically swirling around him.

He had been on a mission, this you had known. He had told you this one might take a while. He had told you that two weeks ago. You had not expected him here, back home, at this hour, covered in gods knew what. It took you by surprise, his presence, but also the state he was in. He looked half dead, drained and pale and haggard. You dropped the bat.

The noise caught his attention. He raised his head, although it looked like it took effort, and locked eyes with you. Those hazel depths you loved so much now looked dull and dark. You moved towards him, your bare feet clicking on the polished wood beneath.

“Az?” you asked quietly, not wanting to startle him further. He pushed up from the counter, standing, but not to his full height. He was slouching in on himself, his wings almost dragging on the ground. He looked so tired.

You caressed his cheek in your hand, wanting to feel him. His shadows embraced you, but remained frantically swirling. You had missed him so much, it had almost torn you in two. And now he was here, in front of you, back to where he should be. But somehow it felt as though you had only gotten his body back, his mind still somewhere else. You tugged on the bond, hoping to get a reaction, recognition, something out of him. A small pull on the shadowy thread connecting you two was all you received.

“You’re home,” you breathed, “I’m so glad you’re home.” Both of your hands were now caressing his face, which was prickly from weeks of not shaving. He was staring back at you, but his eyes were vacant, barely any recognition that you were standing in front of him. It made your chest ache. You distracted yourself by looking over him, checking for injuries or any signs of distress. You found none, but you would have to get his leathers off to be completely sure.

“Azriel,” you grabbed his face and locked eyes with him, “You need a bath, okay? I’m going to give you one. Nod your head if you understand.” It was almost imperceptible, his nod, but you felt it, and that was enough. You took his hand in yours and led him towards the bathing chamber, which was just off to the left of your shared bedroom.

You stripped off your robe and hung it on the door, then turned to the massive tub and turned the water on. While you waited for it to fill, you turned your attention back to your mate. “I’m going to take your leathers off, okay?” He nodded, and it was visible this time. You took that as a good sign.

You began with his top, unbuckling and unbuttoning until his chest was bare. You looked over him once again, checking for injuries. You noticed some slight bruising on his ribs and a healing slash on his right bicep, but nothing extreme. You weren’t happy about him being injured, but he would live, which meant so would you. His wings didn’t look injured much, either, but they were covered in mud and splattered with blood. Gods, what had happened to him?

You checked on the state of the tub, adjusting the temperature and adding some rose oil into the water. The water level was almost to where you wanted it to be. Once again you turned your attention towards Azriel, this time to his bottom half. You pulled at the laces of his pants, loosening them enough to slide them down his legs. He lifted his legs, one at a time, so you could pull the material off. You also took this as a good sign.

You didn’t know what had happened on his mission to make him borderline catatonic, but you would do everything in your power to help get him back to his usual self. His shadows had calmed down a bit, now swirling slowly around the both of you, the frenzied movements gone. You looked towards the tub, the water at the perfect level, so you turned the faucet off. You tugged your nightgown over your head, then slid your panties off, joining Azriel in his nakedness.

You pulled him towards the tub, urging him to climb in. He did as instructed, sliding down into the water and pulling his knees up to his chest. You climbed in after him, sinking down into the steamy water so that you were kneeling in front of him. You grabbed the spong and lathered soap onto it, then got to work.

You grabbed one of his arms, pulling it out towards you, and started scrubbing the grime off his tattooed skin. “I made blueberry muffins while you were away,” you informed him, trying to distract him from whatever he was thinking about and pull him back to you. “I know they’re your favorite, but don’t get too excited. I ate them all. But I’ll make more tomorrow, okay?” his eyes were on your hands, where you were scrubbing his arm, but he nodded in recognition.

You moved on to his other arm, repeating the ministrations you had just done. Wanting to distract him further, you said: “Last week I went to Rita’s with Mor, Cassian, Nesta, and Feyre, and Cass got so drunk that by the end of the night he was telling Nesta he was mated and couldn’t go home with her. She hasn’t let him live it down since.” You smirked at the memory. Azriel looked slightly more relaxed, the corner of his lips almost lifted. Almost.

His arms were clean, so you moved on to his legs. They were less dirty compared to his arms, having been soaking for a while longer, but still needed scrubbing. You picked his left leg up by the ankle, raising and extending it so that it was just below the water, and began scrubbing. You wracked your brain for more stories to tell him, but you could not come up with any. So you stayed quiet.

Azriel so rarely let you take care of him. He always focused on you and your needs. And although the circumstances were not the best, you enjoyed being able to care for your mate in this way. You just prayed to the Mother your care would be enough to bring him out of the headspace he was in.

You finished cleaning his legs, which left his torso, back, and wings to scrub. Wanting to save his wings for last, you opted for his torso first. Azriel had pulled his knees back up to his chest, but you needed them down in order to properly wash him. So you grabbed his legs again, laying them flat, and when he resisted, you spoke down the bond, “I need your legs flat so I can clean your chest, okay?” He stopped resisting, letting you do what you needed to do. You lathered more soap onto the sponge, then scooched closer to him. You could feel his eyes on your face, and with it could feel him coming back to himself. You almost sighed in relief.

Bringing the sponge to his neck, you started scrubbing in small circles over his skin. You brought your free hand to his shoulder to lean him back, putting him at a better angle for you to see where you needed to scrub a little harder. Azriel brought his hands up to your hips, not grabbing them, just placing them on you. The action startled you slightly, just because you weren't expecting it. But once the shock went away, you leaned into his touch, the action as grounding for him as it was for you, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

You continued your ministries on his chest, slowly but surely making progress. When you were halfway down his torso you felt an immense wave of gratitude and love pouring down the bond at you. You couldn’t help but smile, pouring your own love and reassurance down the bond towards him. Finally all that was left was his back and wings. The bathwater was still warm, but you could feel it cooling down. And you wanted to get Azriel clean before the water got cold.

You put the sponge down and laid your hands on top of where he rested his on your hips. “Your wings need washing, they’re covered in quite a bit of blood and dirt. Do you want to clean them, or do you want me to?” you asked gently. He looked up at you, hazel eyes clashing with yours.

“Could you…” his voice was thick, and hoarse, so he cleared it. “Could you do it?” he asked quietly.

“Of course, my love.” you replied, rubbing your hands over his in reassurance. He turned around, giving his back to you, and once again brought his knees up to his chest. You tried not to think about it too hard, the fact that Azriel, the gods damned Shadowsinger of the Night Court, an Illarian fucking warrior, was drawing his knees to his chest, slouching in on himself, making himself smaller due to the memories wreaking havoc in his mind. You wanted to know what happened, shoulder some of the burden for him, sooth his mind from these memories. But it was unlikely he would tell you anything tonight.

You picked the sponge back up, added more soap to it, and began scrubbing his back. You started on his upper back, gliding the sponge over his tattooed skin. Running the sponge down between his wings drew out a long sigh from Azriel. Wanting to save his wings for last, you then focused on his lower back, gliding your free hand along with the sponge, wanting to make sure you were getting all the grime off him as well as comfort him with your touch.

Finally, all that was left were his wings. You started at the base of them, working your way up and over the dark, scarred membranes. Azriel extended each one while you worked, following your movements and positioning them so that you didn’t have to. You glided the sponge firmly along the patagium of each wing, working quickly to clean the grime off. You had learned over the years that this was the best and most efficient way. There was no way to avoid the sensitivity of the wings and what they elicited, but working swiftly, as well as using something other than your hand, seemed to ease some of the tension that would inevitably build up when it came to touching wings.

You looked over his back and wings one more time, checking for spots you might have missed, but found none. So, you put the sponge down and turned your attention to the person, rather than the body, in front of you. You placed your hands on his shoulders and scooched closer to him, so that your front was pressed up against his back. And then you slid your arms around his front, embracing him from behind.

You stayed like that until the water went cold, the only sounds filling the room were your synchronized breathing. Azriel broke the silence first. “Thank you,” he whispered, “for taking care of me. I don’t deserve you.” You tightened your embrace in response.

“I’m going to go get the bed warmed while you dry off, alright?” you said over his shoulder. He nodded, and adamant nod, a nod you knew was going to be the last nod you received before he picked back up answering with words.

You unwrapped yourself from your mate and climbed out of the tub, grabbing a towel on your way back into your room. You quickly wrapped the towel around you then got to work warming the bed. You also lit the fireplace, both for added warmth but also in hopes it would help Az sleep better. And just as you were getting done adding enough wood to the fire to last the night, Az walked out of the bathing room, a towel wrapped around his waist.

Besides looking clean, he looked much more himself now. His shadows had traveled out to the corners of the room, seeking darkness away from the fireplace. You hoped they didn’t mind much. You got up from your place before the fire and walked towards him. He embraced you this time, pulling his strong arms around your body, holding you to him.

“I love you so much it hurts sometimes,” he said, barely above a whisper, “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow, but I’d like to cuddle with my mate now, if that's okay.” It was your turn to nod. You pulled away slightly, looking up into his eyes. You could live with him telling you what had happened tomorrow. And for now, you kissed him, gentle and slow, pouring as much comfort and love as you could down the bond. And he kissed you back like he was a dying man and your kiss was his lifeline. You supposed, in a way, it was.

You broke the kiss, shed each other of your towels, and tumbled into bed, holding one another like death was the alternative.

“Thank you,” Azriel whispered to you.

“You’re welcome, my love,” you replied. And you fell asleep, tangled together in an embrace.

#acotar #acotar fic #azriel fanfiction #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #fanfiction #comfort #night court #velaris #fem reader

[undercoverpena]

1. tie the knot

javier peña x f!reader* | chapter one of let us pretend

summary: peña has been back in Texas for all of five minutes, thinking he wants a simple life. but, when steve offers him the chance to gather information on a potential new player, he jumps at the chance. the only problem is, to do so, he'll need to go undercover with a female agent—and pretend to be her husband.

wordcount: 4.6k chapter themes: fake dating/relationship/marriage, forced proximity / sharing one bed, colleagues to lovers, no use of Y/N, *female agent has a nickname (sunny) for use undercover. an: this week i am full of surprises. welcome to the world of let us pretend. this chapter might not feel different from htcu, but it is.

All he has to do is pretend. Put on an act.

It’s simple on paper. Easy. A thing he’s already a master in, something he has never found particularly difficult or hard: pretending.

Javi, after all, had had always been pretty good at concealing, at masking—

“Y’need to pretend to be married.”

Faking being a husband was a new one.

Having lived with far too many emotions for so long, it’s not hard for him to fake nonchalance.

Colombia had been his school. The place where he collected his degree—days of pretending he was okay. Hiding the fact he couldn’t sleep the horrors away, that he wasn’t falling apart at the seams. That stress wasn’t making him chain smoke and the pressure wasn’t making him sink his cock into women he couldn’t save.

He picked up his doctorate when he returned home. When ranch life had felt so fucking dull it made him want to pick the smoking habit back up, just for something to do. When he saw boats that made his insides twist, but found he had to wear a smile. Hiding, as expertly as he could, so he didn’t bristle each time someone called him a hero—when all he wanted was a drink, a fuck or a newspaper.

Mostly, Javi had become a master in squirrelling away the fact he saw every minute of the hours at night, feeling nothing short of relief when his alarm chimed so he could get out of his homemade prison.

Bluffing had always been a skill of his. But, this, this was new to him. His bluffing had never required him to wear something shiny on his left hand and—

“And, Jav. Try not to fuck her.”

He’s not surprised that Steve heads up a department in Miami—or that he’s happy and content.

From the moment the two of them reunited, he took in the glow on his old partner’s skin (the one he strongly suspects isn’t just from the sun) and listened as he heard short (in Murphy’s opinion) stories about his daughter growing older.

Javi couldn’t relate—not that he’ll admit it. Just another thing he disguises. Smothers his face in what he assumes is what happiness looks like, wears it like an accessory, something akin to wearing a jacket, rather than actually feeling it.

Picking up a ring, rotating it between his thumb and finger, he snorts. “Wouldn’t be very husband-like of me, if I didn’t, would it?”

He’s nudged. An intentional elbow to the side sparks a grin as he places the ring back into its velvety spot.

Because none of them look right. None seem right—even for a fake thing.

“Fake husband. And don’t fuck this up.”

“I’m hearing a lot of don’ts and not a lot of do’s, Murphy. What the fuck is it you want me to do?”

He’s already been told, informed. Briefed.

Tricked in fact. Requested down here for an opinion, but when his worn-in soles landed in the office of his former colleague, it unravelled into something so much more.

Handed a file—one he knows everyone expects he won’t read—and given a rundown of what the operation is supposed to look like. But Javi knows better. Had known it too. Even suspects, Murphy does too.

One thing Colombia has taught him is that plans don’t mean shit, not when you’re up against an ever-evolving problem.

You don't just want me here for a consult, do you, Murph? Was hopin’ you were bored in Texas.

He suspects that’s why his Pop had given him an arched brow, an expression that was accompanied by pinched lips when he’d first mentioned it. Even his assurance that it’ll be a few days—just helping Steve out was met with a look Javi hadn’t banked on. Realising as he stood admiring wedding rings that his Pop had figured it out long before him.

At least now he understands why he got the Chucho-treatment—not quite quiet, but not quite the same treatment from him that he did the day before.

Instead, that kind of treatment that pierced itself into him, attempted to bury itself inside of him and made guilt flood through him like a poison.

Even if once before he would struggle with it, found himself desperate to apologise—make it up to his Pops—he didn’t this time. Because Javi already struggled. Already grown tired of itching for something.

So, he said nothing. Because he knows Murphy wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t need him.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Murphy closes his eyes. The same noticeable twitch in his fingers and chewing inside his cheek that Javier can relate to: the sign of a recent quitter, and one attempting to use gum as a replacement.

Needing too.

“Where is she, anyway?” he asks, shifting the conversation, suppressing a yawn.

Before he’d even got on the plane out here, he’d been tired. Already beginning to fray at the edges, sleep had already become an even more distant friend.

All of it had been made worse by the worried look on Pop’s face when he dropped him at departures. It thickened, slathered itself on his shoulders even more so when he calls him from Murphy’s office to tell him it’ll be three months.

“You managed longer than I thought, Javi.” “Pop…”

Even though he had known it wouldn't matter, he had still tried to explain it all over again. From the top. All softly, with patience—the phone receiver leaving an indent on his cheek as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Reminding his Pop that this time he was doing his friend a favour, that it was a one-time thing—a few months, at most.

It didn’t shift the tone—didn’t stop Javi from imagining the disappointed lines bleeding into worried ones, mixing with the ones caused by age. It didn't lessen the tightness over the phone, simmering in the miles of air, because they were both at a standstill in the centre of a formerly (albeit temporary) happy situation.

Sighing, Murphy drops his hand, pulling him back from his thoughts. “She’ll be here, alright.”

Javi snorts, swallowing.

Glancing back over another table, seeing other things, other accessories. Things that’ll help him blend, help the two of you blend. You and him, him and you—a person he knows the name of and nothing else.

Steve had shared that you were good, brilliant, the only one he’d trust. That you knew the work so far better than anyone.

He’d been about to begin unpicking those earlier statements when the door opened, blouse and black tailored trousers walking towards him.

It isn’t anything cliché.

Time doesn’t stop, the room doesn't silence, but something happens. Something shifts, changes—alters. Because instantly, Javi realises you’re pretty. A thought which confuses him, especially when it dawns on him that usually, it’s a woman's figure he notices and admires first, but he finds that it's your eyes that he lingers on.

And fuck do they cut into him.

Practically reach inside of him, before they go through him, digging into flesh and fucking bone.

Then, all at once, ceasefire. A chance to strengthen his façade as you turn to greet Murphy, a handshake, a sea of pleasantries. Enough chance to shove it down, whatever attempted to rise in him.

But, he swears he can still see them behind his lids. Something which makes his jaw tighten, teeth grind—

“You must be my husband,” you say, smirk sliding up into your cheek.

Your body suddenly turns to him, hand sticking out towards him, adding your name to the statement as though stamping it into the air and his body goes clammy, grows warm and makes him suddenly desperate for water, coffee or even whiskey.

Slipping his hand into yours, he’s not surprised to find that it’s soft, the right kind of warm. He’d suspected about as much from just appearances alone.

“Agent Murphy has told me a lot about you, Mr Peña.”

Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he eyes you. “Think my wife should call me, Javi.”

Javi learns, rather quickly, that you have a nice voice.

It doesn’t grate, doesn’t annoy him—it’s informative, but there’s something else there, a playful edge, a little thing within you that hasn’t been crushed.

He remembers when he’d been as sprightly.

Rubs his forehead with the heel of his palm as he does, fingers desperate to clutch a pen, his jaw tightening as he thinks about how he could roll it in his fingers, hold it like he used to hold a smoke.

Fuck, he wishes he could chew his gum.

A thing which is slowly making him more tense.

Not that you seem to notice, too focused on getting him up to speed on the actual investigation. He’d read much of your notes before today, it was the next part he was more on edge by.

Because, whatever his earlier opinion of you was, he was getting the distinct impression you’d rather set your skin on fire than be fake married. A thing you stop trying to hide, your face displaying your disgust at it each time it is casually mentioned.

It was mandatory—Murphy’s words—for the two of you to get to know one another. A crash course, a 101 in the other. It’s told to you, that the two of you are going to be stationed in your new home for the next few weeks, starting from today. But, because they’re merciful—

“Wanted to make sure you had time to get to know one another. So, take the day—work can begin another day.”

“How nice of you, Murph,” he responds, words dipped in sarcasm. Briefly catching sight of you smirking as you study something on the table.

Javi had already imagined that—since it was recon, and more surveillance than anything else—for the most part, everything could remain the same. He learnt he was right moments later when it was confirmed his name would remain very much his own, and you were handed his surname like a gift you’d rather burn than accept.

It was you who had to surrender more.

“Y’need a new first name.”

If you were surprised, you didn’t show it. A sea of reasons given, the main one being if anyone asked around with a photo and your name, it would be easier to put two and two together. You lived here, for one.

You keep your eyes down, glancing over the table of possessions you’re allowed to borrow, to play dress up with. Fingers brushing over a watch (silver, a white face)—something haunting in your eye you’re quick to blink away when you meet Murphy’s stare.

Folding his arms, Steve sighs. “Jus’ something you’ll answer to. That can be used in public.”

Javi watches you smirk, something secretive, a hidden joke simmering between the two of you—leaving him very much out in the cold of it.

After a beat, you lick your lips.

“Sunny,” you reply, lifting your eyes, digging each syllable of the name you’re going to use into him.

“Let me guess you’re someone’s ray of sunshine?”

He doesn’t mean for it to fall out laced in bitterness, but it does all the same. His mouth tilted into a smirk, your eyes hardening as you placed down a pair of earrings you’d picked up.

“Think it’s more because of my sunny disposition.” He snorts, watching you move around the table. “It’s a family nickname—I’ve… I’ve always been called it, so, I’ll answer to it.”

Swallowing, Javi lets his eyes wander to the wall of the room.

“Alright, you two. You need to sell it, y’hear me?”

“Then we need money.” It’s short, stern, the way you deliver it, head tilted and face unreadable. “We’ll be sniffed out immediately without it. These people deal in money, not handsome faces.”

"So, you think I'm handsome?"

The roll of your eyes doesn't dispute it, not as you direct your attention back to Murphy.

Who, until now, Javi hadn't realised (with his hands on his hips) how big boss Murphy looked as he whispered fine, or how much it rather annoyed him. How it would be quite easy to give him a shove. More so when he’s handed a new phone, a set of documents, credit cards and given more instructions he wishes he could shove down his throat.

He almost gets close enough to do both when briefing ends and he’s handed the keys to the hotel suite they’d be living in—their story simple, easy:

“We have a fake house for you both being made ready as a cover story, but for now you’re both in the hotel. Prime location. Beach views, and very much in reach to the top places the targets visit.”

And, Murphy hadn’t been lying.

It did have good views, the suite was even nice—really nice.

Almost too nice for a little surveillance, a little fake marriage and a drug bust. But, he didn’t complain, barely said a thing in the ride over, or when you wheeled your own case. He even remained silent when you refused to look at him in the elevator or on the walk to the room, and even when the two of you entered.

In fact, the first words he said were: “You gotta try and look at me like you don’t wanna peel my skin off. You know, if you want this to work.”

He expects it; braces for it, the tongue lashing, an icy stare. Picturing you as the kind of woman who is already to sharpen your tools and pierce him with them when he blinks. But, you don’t.

If anything, Javi watches in slow motion as your shoulders sink, your cogs turning before your expression softens.

“You’re right—I’m… sorry.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, he nods. “There’s one bed.”

“Well. We can sleep in the same bed, Peña. We’re adults. However, for your sake, I’m going to put a pillow between us.” Your eyes sweep over him, cold, drowning him in a chill. “Two actually.”

“You a cuddler, or something?”

Smiling, you sigh. “No. The pillow is so that if you roll over all sleepy and desperate for some affection, I won’t have to cut you. Because if you touch me, that is what will happen.”

“How are we meant to sell we’re in love if I can’t touch you?”

“Oh, out there, you can touch me. In here, no.”

His snort rumbles from his chest. Tugged up, wrenched from some cobweb-filled depth, as you smile. Nothing big, nothing life-changing, but a start—the beginning of a level-playing field.

“What kind of touching, cariño?”

Jaw tightening, you smirk—but it’s cold.

He suspects you’re used to charm. Easily able to disable it, switch it off, unfazed by his gaze or the edge of his words. If anything, you seem really fucking bored of it—something he’s not sure if he admires or despises.

“Nothing like you used to pay for, Peña.”

Before he’s even recovered, he learns that you take things seriously.

Your bag opens, pulling out a notebook—upside down cursive etched over a page, your eyes scanning over it, before you ask if he’s ready. He’s barely able to ask for what, when you begin firing things at him.

Favourite food. Comfort film. Where did we meet? What song do you sing in the car when I’m not around? Are you allergic to anything?

The list goes on, and on. The more things continue to run out of your mouth, the more he begins to admire you—to settle into some comfort that you want to do this properly. That you’re going to take it seriously too, something he wants.

Needing it to matter.

Needing to have something work out easily, not have it all end for nothing.

The only time you pause is for a dinner—room service, his treat and his choice. A way of providing proof that he’d been listening, paying attention—somehow wanting to prove something to you, even if he’d known you for only half a day.

“So, how did Murphy get you on this?”

He studies the way you cross your leg over the other, the base of your heel tapping against the carpet—all very much guarded, on edge.

“You can tell it’s my first, can’t you?”

Javi smiles, making it softer purposefully. “A little.”

“He said you were good,” you sigh, placing your napkin down. “I assume I was chosen because it was easy. Y’know, than someone with… higher priorities. Plus, I already know the case. Guess it just made sense to send me.”

Nodding, he watches as you avoid his sight, focusing instead on the swirls in the carpet. Something ticking in your pretty little head, it forcing your nostrils to flare, for your jaw to tighten—and he’s watching it happen, practically feeling the air around you begin to vibrate from it all.

“M’not gonna let anything happen to you, Sunny. You know that right?”

That does it. Further digs in the hatred you’re feeling tenfold because the use of your new name makes you flinch. And he knows, like he had suspected earlier that it means more than just a name. Especially from the look on your face.

At first, your expression is soft, almost mask-less—no walls, no defence. Then, like magic, it shifts. It drapes down, rebuilds, and suddenly there within seconds, the same expression he’s been working with since introduction.

“I have heard how you take care of the women who work with you.”

Picking up your drink, and stirring the straw, you let your eyes meet his. The small wooden table suddenly even smaller—the large suite, suddenly constricting in a way he hadn’t expected so far.

“S’not what I meant.”

“I know.” It’s curt, your reply. Clearing your throat, you snort, “You are handsome. I can see why you did so well. And, I might not need to say this, but I need you to know I like my job, and I don’t require that kind of care.”

Rubbing his jaw, he sighs. “That so?”

“I have something that can help with that. It doesn’t talk. It doesn’t need to remind it that it’s ‘so big’, and it doesn’t need me to call it baby. It just hums—politely—and makes my thighs shake. I just need you to be with me in this.”

He snorts, draining the rest of his glass. The ice clangs just before he places it back down on the table. “You bring it with you, your something?”

Licking your lips, your mouth slides into your cheek. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Steve had told you his credentials—how he worked, how smart he was. How easily he was able to decipher a read on someone.

He did also mention much of Peña’s backstory—including his rich history with the opposite sex. A thing you hadn’t wanted to let escape out coated in catty and wrapped in bitchy. And yet, it had all the same.

You did want to get on with him, you admired him after all. Hearing the truths from Steve made the things that swirled like gossip even more impressive.

But, in all of the briefings you’ve had before agreeing to this, your boss had failed to mention that it wasn’t just the man’s tongue that got women to confess all their secrets, but his ridiculously handsome face too.

The one that keeps turning towards you—eyes concentrated in on you as though you’re the most interesting thing he’s ever had the chance to listen to.

But, it wasn’t just that. It’s that he’s quick-witted, observant, and it most definitely doesn’t help that he’s all broad shoulders and brown eyed. That, in part, you thought you could handle.

Then, he’d flirted.

On any other day, in any other place, you’re sure you’d have melted. Likely leant forward, elbow on your knee, tracing your bottom lip with your finger just to make his eyes drop to your mouth.

But, this isn’t any other day—it’s work, a job, one that requires him (in part) to be a flirt.

Clearing your throat, you smear on a smile. “You not tried to date since you’ve been home?”

His face hardens, just slightly.

It pinching, eyes more so than anywhere else—his smile falling, descending to a thin line as he traces his teeth with his tongue. Then, his eyes shift into an entirely different brown, an explosion of shades swirling—flecks of gold and sadness-infused umber.

“No.”

Nodding, you pick at some salad on the side of your plate. “Probably a good job—don’t need any angry people coming for me when I’m curled up on your arm.”

He snorts, but it doesn’t flutter over his face. His hand remains balled up, resting on the arm of the chair—something more there, prodding, needling him. He may be so easily able to read you, but you’re sure he’s about as clear as a warm day himself.

Landing his gaze back on you, you feel it linger, hover—before it begins to slip down from your eyes, landing somewhere at your neck, before the buttons off your shirt. Something warming inside of you, flooding out, spreading across your skin as you try your damnest to level your breathing.

“Got any more questions?”

“Plenty,” you reply, almost catching the y on your teeth before placing a light smirk out over your lips, letting it move across your face.

Gesturing, Peña licks his lips and so you begin with more. Not needing the book now, just working your way through the things which populate, which appear like bubbles he bursts with his answers.

He’s open about some things more than others. The two of you covering family quickly, childhoods even quicker. You both discreetly avoid too many details of Colombia, about the things you’d already heard in chunks from your superior.

Your 101 beginner class in your new husband proving to be easier to understand than your field handbook—although, you supposed the intermediate and expert levels to him would be far harder to crack.

He’s unmarried, not dating—there’s his dad, a sea of distant family and a town full of people whom his father would class as family. You suspect some guilt there, it layered between the conversation on his dad, and the one which followed when you’d asked if the ranch would be okay without him.

“—My Pops has had help for a long time. One of them has been promoted. He… He works there full time now.”

Even if he had tried to say it simply, it was laced in bitterness—not from jealousy, you suspect from the sadness that had poisoned over time. A well stuffed with things which had rotted and gone mouldy over time.

Upon sight of him this morning, you had known you’d need to be clever, smart—find ways to compartmentalise it all. Because, when he traces his nose with his finger, when his eyes widen a little more than normal—coffee-brown all but drowning you—you had known it would be hard otherwise.

Something there, niggling, piercing through.

“Any lovers I need to be aware of?”

Smiling, you slide your feet from your heels, pulling your legs up more, swallowing. “No, you’re good.”

“Any potential risks I need to be aware of—anyone who’ll call into question your new name?”

Your stomach knots, uncomfortably so. A thing balling inside of you, that same fear you’d been plucking at for days—ever since Steve had suggested your name, thrown it out on the conference table with a bunch of greedy eyes seated around it.

“No, I… you have nothing to worry about.”

He looks at you, lets it hover, hold. Something there, trying to disguise itself in the way he narrows his eyes a fraction, in the way his lips pinch together—the way his brain seems to whir like a fan that can be heard even across the table.

When you yawn, he makes a move to tidy up the plates for the tray—batting your hand away. “I’ve got it, cariño.”

“Cariño?”

Your cheeks are warm, more so under his stare. Easily able to smother it the first time, but found it difficult the second. It’s all wide, blooming—it tracing your eyes before it sweeps back to the tray.

“Gotta call my wife something original, special.”

“I’m hardly special, Peña.”

“If I’ve married you, you’re special.”

Clamping your mouth shut, you say nothing.

Something churning, a horribleness that you know stems from the fact this isn’t real. None of it. The niceness, the ring on your finger—the one your finger slides up your palm to brush over, to trace.

The one which didn’t have a home there this morning, but now sits like it’s always supposed to. Your stare on his back as he goes to the door, pushing the metal tray, the jingling of plates and glass sounding out as your heartbeat pounds in your ears, your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

It continues to hammer when your back flattened against the bathroom door—safe amongst marble, mirrors and an array of complimentary products which covered most of the sink.

Only as you begin to undress and change for bed, does it lessen, does your composure return back to you. The mask which you so delicately applied, the one which had taken more words of encouragement in your bathroom mirror this morning than you’d thought.

Because, it isn’t that you thought you couldn’t do this—but rather why would you?

This isn’t your expertise. Not your usual field of knowledge. The last time you’d even been on a date had been at least over a year ago, and the last time you’d lived with a man had been so long ago you were worried you’d wake tomorrow and learn you have habits you weren’t aware of.

Did you kick in your sleep?

Did you grind your teeth?

“Cariño?” Peña calls out, knuckles tapping on the door. “You good in there?”

No, you want to reply. Hands gripping the sink basin, staring at your makeup-less face and the nightie he was about to see you in.

“Yeah,” you call out, washing your hands, and flushing the toilet before unlocking the door, and emerging.

He’s polite enough to not drink you in, even if you're sure he’s craning his neck not to do so.

“Look. Before you crack your neck from not doing so.”

Smirking, he traces his fingers across his chin, before slowly dropping his eyes.

And you feel them.

Warm. Hot. Sliding over your neck, collarbone, down the silk which covers your chest, abdomen and most of your thighs, before he’s running his vision back up.

“Better?”

“Nice legs.”

Narrowing your eyes, you straighten your spine. “Try not to dream about them, and Peña?”

He hums.

“Try to remember you’re not actually married, don’t want you falling for the fantasy we’re putting on. Hate to break your heart.”

Leaning against the doorframe, staring at you, you somehow manage to level your breath. “If it’s you breaking my heart, Sunny. I might just let you.”

Your mouth almost falls open. Almost.

Something you think he's aware of from the way he smiles, from the way he drinks you in before he whispers about getting passed.

Then, you're alone.

Filling your lungs with a breath, staring around the room not sure how you're going to make it a week not cracking, never mind more.

CHAPTER TWO ->

AN: tag list won't be around from chapter two, thank you for letting me tell the story how i always envisioned. your kindness is appreciated.

taglist: @thetriumphantpanda @texassmiller @wordywarriorwrites @iknowisoundcrazy @thundermartini

@secretelephanttattoo @belliezz @picketniffler @thelightsandtheroses @sawymredfox

@toomanytookas @auteurdelabre @grumpygrumperton @noisynightmarepoetry @missladym1981

@maried01 @livswayout @casa-boiardi @msjarvis @perotovar @inept-the-magnificent

@copperhalfcent @morallyinept @inside-the-mind-of-a-wallflower @nabiiturner

@venturawriter @blablablasssss @half-moon16 @nerdieforpedro

#javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña narcos #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javier peña #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #narcos fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier peña smut #javi peña smut #javier peña x reader smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena smut #javier peña fanfiction #jo: let us pretend #jo: htcu #narcos fanfic #narcos fanficion #pedro pascal x reader

[katiesyellowcardcollection]

ill call your mom

trigger warnings - lots of mentions of suicide and the thoughts od doing, bad mental health. please dont read if you feel you cant handle this.

AN: this was written in one siting, not the best just me getting my own feelings out in a fic of some sort

Happiness.  

You're not sure the last time you felt true happiness, maybe when you signed for arsenal when you were 10, maybe when you made your senior debut 7 years later or maybe when you were first called up to England, but you weren't happy now, you hadn't felt true happiness in such a long time that you're not sure what it feels like. You weren't sad either though, you were just empty, disconnected from the world, your family, your teammates.  

You think it's how you've ended up here, curled up in your wardrobe, pills in front of you, you're not entirely sure what pills you've even picked up, you just grabbed every single one in the medicine cupboard that Beth and Viv had been stocking up for you since your injury.  

Your injury.  

It had come at the worst possible time, you were on your way to winning the wsl with Arsenal, on the form of your life, the world cup was just round the corner and everything you'd worked so tirelessly for had come crushing down from a movement you'd done thousands of times in your career.  

You think of that day now as you swallow the pills, you think of the days leading up to it, how you hadn't been feeling quite right, Jonas wanted you to come off minutes before the injury you'd refused and then there was the pop followed by an indescribable pain, pain you'd never felt before and then nothing. You knew as it happened that your world Cup dreams were over, your season was over, everything was over.  

You think of the days after, when you couldn't get out of bed, you couldn't cry, you couldn't feel anything, you haven't felt anything since your mind constantly frozen on that night, on the movement of your knee, one movement that had ruined everything.  

Football was your lifeline, it was all you had ever known, growing up in sporty family you'd been kicking a ball since you could stand, joining a team when you were just 5 year, up until that night there hadn't been a day go past when you hadn't kicked a ball or been out on the grass doing some kind of training drill. When you were being bullied as kid, football was how you coped with it all, when the shouting and slamming doors got too much you had football and when you needed football the most you didn't have it, you didn't have an escape.  

You were struggling to breathe now, gasping for air you couldn't breathe, and you didn't care, you were content with dying, leaving everything behind, your teammates, football that was really all you had, you wondered if anyone would truly care, if your death would leave them unsettled you think your teammates would be upset but you didn't think your death would life altering for them, they only care because they have to, because your their teammate and they have to care to some extent.  

You were losing consciousness now, you hadn't expected for it to happen this quickly for the side effects of the pills you'd taken to work this fast, as you faded in and out of consciousness you felt nothing but relief, it was a feeling you'd been craving for since your injury, previously you thought youd feel relief when you stepped on the pitch for the first time since the injury, except you hadn't felt anything, not relief or joy instead it was almost like a chore being subbed on, two years after you'd first tore your acl, two years of hell, two years begging to run again, two years of wanting nothing more than to be on a pitch again, yet you felt nothing as you high fived Leah letting you onto the field again, both sets of fans applauding your return back. it was like your injury had stripped everything good about you away from you, turning you into the silhouette of the girl you used to be.  

in hindsight you should've known that Viv would come knocking when you didn't show up for dinner forgetting she owned a key to your apartment, you should've realised that when you ignored your teammates numerous calls and texts that they would come running, always wanting to help the people they loved most.  

You could hear distant banging, desperate pounding at your door, then the click of a lock, your lock, then the shouts of your teammates screaming your name, the urgency in their voices becoming clearer. 

You're not sure how they knew that something was seriously wrong, maybe it was instinct or the way your bathroom had been torn apart, the beer bottles that were scattered around your living room or maybe it was your silence.  

You should feel someone shaking you, this wasn't death, you could feel the floor of your wardrobe, the clothes hanging up above you, you weren't meant to be back here.  

You were supposed to be dead.  

You could hear someone screaming at you begging you to open your eyes. 

“Oh god y/n wake up for me” 

They were crying and shouting for help, shaking your fragile body, you wish that they would stop and shut up for one second, but you couldn't speak, you couldn't move, you were just led there, listening to their desperate cries for help.  

You wish you had taken more at that second; you didn't want to have to deal with your teammates finding out, talking about your feelings, you didn't want that, you wanted to be dead there was nothing more you wanted at that moment.  

.........................................................................................................................

You woke up to beeping, loud harsh beeps, wires wrapped around your body, you wished you were mistaken, you wished so desperately that this was some kind of afterlife and not a hospital.  

A hospital meant you were still alive and still breathing.  

It meant it hadn't worked.  

Youd failed. Failed at something else again.  

You couldn't even kill yourself right.   

“Hiya y/n” You heard Viv whisper out.  

Slowly you opened your eyes, you noticed the bodies of your teammates laid out on chairs, each with the same concerned facial expressions, they smiled up at you. You turned your focus to Viv, she was sitting next to you holding your hand, you realised, she gave you a sympathetic look, you could see the worry in her eyes, she'd always been a worrier, always wanting to make sure the people she loved most were okay.  

“Why am I not dead.” 

You croak out, wincing as you do so your throat hurting. 

your words hung in the air for a few minutes, none of your teammates quite sure how to respond to such a question. In their minds the answer was easy, you weren't ready to die, you had a life worth living for, you were the most loving, thoughtful person, they knew how could someone so young and ‘innocent’ want to not be here anymore, not want to do life anymore.  

It was Katie who spoke first, her accent thicker than normal, her face full of worry.  

“Because you have a life here with us kiddo, life is so much more than what you may think it is, you still have so much left to do before you leave y/n.” 

You're not sure why or how but her words bring you to tears, she hadn't said anything groundbreaking, yet here you were moved to tears for the first time in two years, you hadn't cried since the night of your injury.  

You can feel Viv rubbing your back as you continue to let out tears, you're sobbing now, everything that had happened to you in the past two years coming out, everything the club psychologist had tried to get you out was spilling out of you, the thoughts of your teammates witnessing this sent you into another set of tears, you didn't want them to see you like this, you were a mess, you didn't want them knowing just how much you were struggling.  

Viv seemed to have sensed this as she forced everyone out of your hospital room leaving just you and her.  

She didn't say anything at first, she just continued rubbing your back, whispering soft Dutch words to you in hopes to calm you down slightly, remembering when you had a Panick attack before you made your debut that speaking in her native language had help you to calm down.  

Eventually your sobbing eased off and all that could be heard was your heavy breathing.  

“What happened y/n?”  

You're not sure how to answer that question truth to be told you didn't know, you remember grabbing the pills and swallowing them, but you don't remember what had switched that evening why you'd decided to go through with it.  

You had thought of doing it before, but you were always too scared to actually follow through, you'd written notes, gathered the supplies but you'd never put the plan into place before and you're not sure why you decided that today you would actually follow through.  

“I don't know” 

She just shakes her head in response.  

“You do sweetheart, you don't just try to kill yourself” 

You nod in agreement, she's right someone doesn't just do it, there has to be things leading up to it, you're just not sure why tonight, what had happened today that left you so ready to leave  

“I've been thinking about it for a while Vivi just today I actually tried I don't know I'm sorry.” 

“You don't have to say sorry kiddo, your still here and that's what matters the most to me, to us, were going to help you through this alright darling, I love you so much.” 

She says removing her hands of your back and going in for a hug, kissing your head as she does so.  

#arsenal women #leah williamson #woso #awfc #alessia russo #awfc x teen reader #katie mccabe x teen reader #katie mccabe #vivianne miedema #beth mead #woso fanfics #woso community #womens football #viv miedema #caitlinfoord #woso x reader

[honeygrahambitch]

"Since laryngitis is not contagious I told Will he should definitely come to work today. Especially now that the Ripper dropped a body. He doesn't need to talk much. He can do his thing and then write a report on it." Jack explained to Hannibal as they arrived at the crime scene. "No one gets hurt and we get even closer to catching the Ripper."

"It's quite cold today." Hannibal commented as a tiny snow flake landed on his palm. "Will agreed I suppose?"

"He did, yes. But we have only been texting so I am not sure what state he actually is in."

Will was already there, next to Beverly, looking around the crime scene, examining something in particular. He was so focused that he didn't even hear Hannibal and Jack.

"Will." Hannibal greeted him. To that Will and Beverly turned to them.

"Will can't speak. Like, at all. I am doing the talking for him today." Beverly explained. Will rolled his eyes helplessly. "He is not thrilled about it but I can do a pretty good job."

"He definitely should not force himself." Hannibal agreed, frowning in concern. If Will was not making any effort to talk then it definitely meant his voice was gone. His usual strategy of ignoring any symptoms he would have did not work in this case.

Jack sighed loudly, probably understanding that Will should have indeed stayed home to rest instead of standing outside in negative temperatures.

"He wants to say that your coat looks majestic, Dr. Lecter." Beverly commented. "Jack, I'm not allowed to say what Will thinks about you at this very moment. I really want to keep my job."

Will didn't protest to any of the things Beverly said and pulled out a little bottle of pills. Hannibal was wondering if Will knew that aspirin won't help that much with getting back his voice. Was his throat sore as well? Probably. Will wouldn't complain about stuff like that even when his voice was perfectly fine.

Hannibal wished he would know that kind of things.

He wished Will would allow him to care for him.

That is why as soon as they were done with the crime scene, he asked Will to get into his car instead of Beverly's. He wanted to open his mouth to protest but the stern look on Hannibal's stern expression made him abandon his attempt to force his larynx.

As soon as they arrived at Hannibal's place, he started making some tea in a navy blue kettle.

"Ginger and chamomile tea does wonders for a sore throat." He explained as Will followed him with his eyes around the kitchen.

Will felt partially powerless and partially grateful. He could admit to himself that other than popping pills, he usually did nothing about feeling sick. He mostly took medication to function at work, he wouldn't need those at home.

"Thank you." He whispered.

Hannibal felt something warm inside himself at hearing his voice for the first time that day.

"You should have told- well, wrote Jack that you are too sick to work, Will. Just so you know, I'm not expecting you for our therapy session tomorrow." Hannibal said as he moved the cattle away from the electric stove.

"No, I can do it." Will whispered a bit louder and coughed immediately after.

"Therapy implies having conversations. And by canceling your appointment I don't mean that I don't want to see you tomorrow. You should definitely come here for dinner." Hannibal went on while pouring tea in two cups. "Sitting with you in silence is not something that I dread."

Will smiled at that. When it came to the two of them, silence was indeed not an obstacle. There was always something to project and something to observe.

Hannibal added a generous spoon of honey in Will's cup and none in his own.

Will opened his mouth to say something more but he coughed again. Hannibal passed him a note book and a pen.

"We can pass notes."

"How romantic" Will wrote to that, earning a genuine smile from Hannibal. Then he kept on writing and then handed the notebook back Hannibal.

"Since I can't talk and you insist on having me around I can finally do what you've been asking me for ages."

"And what have I been asking you for ages?" Hannibal asked curiously as he gave Will the notebook.

"You can draw me in your sketchbook and I promise not to move or make any comment about how boring it is." He wrote back and raised his eyebrows, watching Hannibal's expression as he was reading his words.

"Are you sure?" Hannibal asked trying to conceal his excitement behind a satisfied expression. He was already picturing each pencil or charcoal he could use.

Will nodded.

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal nbc #hannibal series #hannibal fanfiction

[janeyseymour]

La Cosa Nostra- pt 7

Cowritten with @schemmentis

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6.

Summary: It's a nice easy Saturday, and then you head to Church on Sunday- the Feds following you the entire time.

WC: 1.8k

Saturday rolls around, and your little ones are absolutely delighted to see both you and Melissa on your mother’s doorstep to pick them up.

“Mam! Mommy!” Cat shouts as she whips the door open. Rosie echoes her words as she all but launches herself at you.

“Hi, my little love,” you chuckle as you crouch down to be at eye level with her. “How was your night with Nan and Pop?”

“So good!” Rosie grins as you step further into the house. Melissa brings Cat to her own hip, delighted to be reunited with her girls once again.

“Pop let us have ice cream for dinner!” Cat giggles.

At that, you look at your father who is relaxing in his recliner. His eyes go wide, and they look everywhere but you.

“Dad,” you scold him.

“It was pistachio,” he shrugs. “That’s a fruit.”

“It’s a nut, and so are you,” you tell your father as you roll your eyes.

“Oi, Y/N,” your mother breathes from her place on the couch. “Let’s not forget the dozens of times your father let you and your siblings have ice cream for dinner.”

“That’s different! And you were always up in arms over it,” you say to your mother.

She shrugs. “You kids turned out okay, didn’t you? You own one of the most successful salons in the city, you have a beautiful wife, and absolutely precious twins. Besides, we’re grandparents now- we give the kids sugar and then send ‘em home with you.”

“What did you give them before we got here?” Melissa raises a brow.

Both of your parents just smirk.

“Cat, what did Nan and Pop give the two of you for breakfast?” the redhead asks slowly, cautiously.

“Cinnamon buns with ice cream!” Your oldest twin’s eyes sparkle with pure glee.

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath. You switch to your native tongue to tell your parents what you really think of this situation they’ve put you in.

“Oh lighten up,” your mam tells you. “Just take ‘em to the park and have ‘em run around there for a few hours. That’s what dad always did.”

“Damn right,” your father chuckles from his place.

So after bidding adieu to your parents, you and your family end up at the local park. Cat and Rosie spend the afternoon running around in circles, having you chase them, begging you to push them on the swings, giggling with all of the glee and innocence that five year olds should have. When more kids start to make their way into the little fenced area, you and your wife take a step back and find a park bench to sit on. Neither of your eyes leave your girls, but it’s nice to have a break when you’re both already exhausted enough. Even with last night, where you were both in bed by ten and sleeping in until much later than either of you had expected, the turn of events that your life has taken has the both of you still pretty much running on fumes.

“We are so lucky to have those little munchkins,” you sigh softly as you let your head rest on Melissa’s shoulder.

“We really are,” your wife smiles as she watches Rosie tag Cat.

The two of them have brought so much joy into your life. Your eyes glaze over as you’re taken back to so many of the big events that have happened in this park. You recall the day that the two of you simply came down here on a walk and the warmth of the sun as you held hands and strolled through the park. Melissa told you that she loved you that day. You remember this exact bench was where you felt your babies kick for the first time and the absolutely beaming smile that could light up the entirety of center city that your wife gave you as she felt it too. 

You’re taken back to the first time you brought your girls here at just a few months old- both you and your wife going stir crazy as you stayed inside and with the girls for the longest time. You brought your wife here the day that her restaurant opened, just to give her a sense of normalcy with all of the chaos that had taken place trying to get everything in order to open on time. 

You’re only brought back to the present when Rosie comes climbing into your lap and Cat climbs into Melissa’s. You both instinctively press kisses to your girls’ heads and sigh in content.

“All tuckered out?” you chuckle as the younger of your twins exhales deeply and her fingers run through your hair. You feel her nod, and you see Cat nod into Melissa’s neck.

“Can we go home and watch a movie?” Your eldest asks your wife quietly.

The two of you share a look before nodding. “That sounds like a great idea, sweetheart.”

As you’re getting the girls into the car and driving home, you miss the way that Agent Danik and Agent Shaw are tracking your every move.

The sleek, black, undercover car blends in well. You don't notice it trailing a few cars behind you. You don't notice it idling at the end of the street as you and your wife get your girls out of their car seats and safely inside your home.

You spend the evening curled on your couch. The twins splaying their tiny bodies haphazardly across both you and your wife's laps and slipping in the scant spaces between you as they start drifting to sleep. 

“Maybe we need to give them sugar more often.” You faux whisper to Melissa as you both leave the girls’ room after laying them down. “They didn't even ask for bedtime stories.”

“They get enough sugar between your parents and mine.” Melissa lightly hits your arm. “‘Sides, you'd miss bedtime stories after a while. You love doin’ the silly voices to make ‘em laugh.”

“Yeah,” You sigh. “You're right. I would.”

Normally, you and Melissa would return to your comfortable couch. At least for an hour or two to fully unwind before retiring for the night. Tonight, though, you both set wordlessly about your night time routine. You've caught up on sleep, for the most part. Still, there's a bit of extra exhaustion. Plus, tomorrow is Sunday, which means early morning to make Mass on time and breakfast with Barbara and Gerald afterward. 

You happily settle into your bed once you're ready for the night. Curled beneath your sheets, you hold a book open with one hand while your other arm is wrapped securely around your wife. The television in the room, with the volume low, playing one of her shows. 

You think Melissa has drifted to sleep already when you hear her voice. It's soft, and laced with her tiredness, but it’s clear. “It’ll pass, yeah? All this?���

You shut your book without worrying about your bookmark. Blindly, you set it to the nightstand. You lay down completely, wrapping both arms around your wife and kissing her cheek and shoulder. 

“It will.” You answer with all the confidence you have. “It’ll pass and everything’ll go back to how it’s ‘spose to be.”

The two of you get as much rest as possible given the circumstances. But then there’s a little hand on your face, and this time it’s Rosie who is gently prying your eye open with one of her own hands. You groan as you pull her onto the bed. You can hear Cat giggling as she does the exact same thing to your wife.

Your little one only continues to try to force your eyes open until you peel them open just enough to look at the clock on your bedside table.

“Rosalina Marie,” you groan. “Caterina Ann. It is 6:45, and we do not have to be awake for another forty-five minutes. Quit it.”

“Let Mam sleep,” Melissa sighs as she rolls out of bed. “Come on, you little rascals.”

She corrals them out of the room, letting you get another forty minutes of sleep before she’s coming back in to gently shake you awake.

“Mi amore,” your wife says softly as she stands by your bedside. She brushes away a few hairs from your face and kisses your temple gently. “It’s time to get up and start getting ready for church.”

You blink awake, happy to see that beautiful woman’s eyes sparkling. You roll out of bed unceremoniously before heading into the kitchen to eat breakfast and start attempting to get the twins ready for church in time.

 Rosie whines about the fact that Melissa has her in a dress while Cat spins around and giggles the entire time as she watches the skirt puff out.

“My love, it isn’t that bad,” you sigh as you pull on your own trousers. “Mommy just wants the two of you to look your best.”

“And you look wonderful,” Melissa tells Rosie as she slips on her own blouse.

“Why do you and Mam get to wear pants though?” your littler of the two grumbles.

“Because you only own leggings and jeans as a little girl, and Mam and I have slacks,” your wife explains.

By some miracle, the four of you end up in the sanctuary before the service starts. You slide into the pew where Barbara and Gerald Howard sit. The woman is immediately cooing over your two girls, and suddenly Rosie seems thrilled to be wearing the dress Melissa had put her in.

You hand the girls the silent fidget toys that you brought along in order to keep them quiet during the sermon.

“Do you want your book back?” Barbara asks quietly as the priest takes a few seconds to shift from a passage to the choir.

“No,” Melissa sighs. “Not yet. Just... hold onto it until I tell you I can get it back, and do not speak of it again. Please.”

Barbara raises a brow, but she doesn’t say anything further as she turns her attention back to the mass that is taking place.

After the service, you take Cat’s hand while Melissa takes Rosie’s, and the four of you head down to the diner that you frequent often after a service. Gerald and Barbara follow. Again, you fail to notice the way that Shaw and Danik follow your steps.

“Is that...?” Shaw asks.

“The senator, Gerald Howard,” Danik confirms quietly. “There’s no way that the senator has a hand in any of this.”

“No,” Shaw agrees softly. “And his wife is known for her activism in education and her devout Christianity.”

“Shit,” Danik mutters.

“Did we just hit a dead end?” Shaw asks.

The head of this investigation sighs. “I have no idea, Shaw. No fucking clue.”

TAGS: @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

[nightgoodomens]

I really thought they'd keep things under wraps until GO3 was released. Big companies like Amazon don't like their actors causing a fuss or being caught in a "scandal", but man oh man looks like things are blowing up in the Sheenantburg "polycule".

Well I wouldn’t jump the gun yet, this doesn’t mean they’re coming out, but I think it might mean they’re not going to play along the new hetero game.

So let’s look a little bit at the timeline, shall we?

David goes to Cali for three weeks. We get content from GT - a video taken giving impression he wasn’t aware, sort of paparazzi shots, some from very far away, a miserable pic of him. He has fun with his kids but there’s nothing GT/DT. Before the trip we already had weird vibes from GT with her constant knocking DT down and having nothing to say about him winning apart from a repost without a good word and then burying the story within shit. Lots of break up songs too, but we were questioning is she reads the lyrics, however, it was weird how the lyrics were always about the same thing.

MS goes to Disneyland. DT goes to Disneyland. At the same fucking time.

Both get a chance to create a happy family image. Separately.

I mean, well, that was deliciously blunt but worked out so so.

Neil pops in to tell everyone that David and Michael are still very much in love just before Assembly and the era of hetero begins.

We figure out why the “happy happy” desperation from AL - Assembly gets released where MS chokes out he’s happy, and then focuses on talking about David and gives it all. AL loses it a little - she tries to interact with fans to push the happiness, reposts articles, fights with Swedish media… it doesn’t work out. While she makes Assembly about her, MS makes it about what mattered. He does not help her.

DT doesn’t help GT push the happy image either.

A blind gets released by Enty. Clearly about them. Stating the women are trying to push the happy family image in Disneyland while men would rather be together.

During the Blind and Assembly stuff, men remain separated. Until Oliviers happens.

GT posts two stories, one telling RadioTimes off for the nice article about DT, then praising one that called DT’s impression “deranged” - on that video she took without his knowledge most likely.

Oliviers, the PR save-the-hetero (aka oh-fuck-the-blind) show happens, where everyone expected some MS/DT action since DT was nominated and MS was announced as the presenter, instead it turns into a circus. The men don’t meet on the red carpet, DT stopped from going back, DT/GT are told to act like in fresh love only for DT to fail the “camera” moments, they’re sat right in the front to be visible playing the game and they overdo it, all it ends up with is MS soft looks at DT, as far as I know DT wasn’t shown at all which BAFTAs would never.

GT (who’s always escaped red carpets is now pushed by PR) tries to recreate the “look into my eyes for the camera” moment from BAFTAs, but DT doesn’t play along. AL pushes with the arm stroking, but MS doesn’t play along.

Two interesting things happen - highly photographed moment of DT sharing a hug with another man, who of course wasn’t MS. And MS presenting an award to someone else. Both felt like attempts at rewriting the history but all they did was highlight the real deal. Because they didn’t play along. Especially MS.

Media focuses on the women in an insane way considering they’re nobodies at Oliviers. Ladies post about the day as if it was their day. Pic with the men gets withheld until the fandom reminds them that they are here for the guys and so with a snark the women post the pic. Finally MS/DT look soft and happy when they’re with each other. MS stands with DT.

Interesting to note, there was no usual “preparing” pics and videos of DT from GT.

DT doesn’t win. GT posts a pic calling him a loser, he looks like he’s on the verge of a mental breakdown on that pic. I don’t know what happened, but he did not look… well.

Even the “normal” fans wince at the caption. She doesn’t even make it a story or anything, it’s right there as a post. Too bad she didn’t create a post when he won Critic’s Choice for his Macbeth (exactly what he was nominated for at Oliviers too), instead reposted a story from another account, added nothing, and buried it within crap. But “loser” got a whole post.

There was also a pic with a fan where DT doesn’t look well either.

GT and AL focus on promotion of themselves.

Yesterday a blurry video gets released of GT slapping her hand at DT to silence him, MS ready to silence her instead, and DT basically pointing at MS and standing closer to him. (Video up to your own interpretation). Sort of felt like it added context to DT looking the way he did at the end of the night.

No usual home selfie either.

And today. David’s Birthday.

GT showed what lovely posts she can create about people she cares about recently. While her story for DT “thanks for being born” was the kindest thing she’s done because for once she didn’t include an insult or “humbling” him, it was quite… well, nothing. Song choice was questionable. The story was cold. The picture was old.

We waited whole day for a post but no. We expected Cali pics, home pics… nope.

Not only she only created a story, right after she also posted HBD for an actress whose birthday wasn’t even on the same day, just to keep her theme of burying anything DT related that wasn’t about GT. But she’s done something interesting on that story - called the actress her favourite tv wife for DT and hashtagged don’t tell MS.

Honestly I just rolled my eyes. Nobody in the fandom would agree with her and trying to take a dig at MS… bad move.

RadioTimes is full of love for DT all day. And so are other accounts. Love is pouring from every side. Somehow GT isn’t keen to repost those articles.

Suddenly AL pops in with a story. And what a story. Not only she’s looking at DT cutout while holding a card “WINNER”, MS is standing between DT and GT, and the caption is “To my partner’s HUSBAND”. Not tv wife. Not “My wife’s husband.” This was just about DT and MS. Song choice has interesting lyrics too:

“There ought to be a law against

Anyone who takes offense

At a day in your celebration”

Winner not loser? Husband not tv wife? Anyone takes offense?

BAFTAs pops in to share a video of MS/DT of DT giving a glimpse of how they have met 20 years ago. Neil pops in to share on tumblr David being called Michael’s husband. You know the they’re-still-in-love guy.

GT reposts the story without a word and buries it. She doesn’t post anything for DT.

So what happened? It’s up to your interpretation.

Mine is this: They were meant to bury the rumours, hence massive hetero show for Oliviers, MS didn’t play along since the beginning, DT tried but fell apart, they snapped, GT took it out on the men, MS snapped back sick of her shitty posts about DT, the same way he did end of last year.

Seeing the way GT acted during that blurry video and today… I think she lost control and now even AL doesn’t side with her. But that one she also only has herself to blame for. And I wonder… who tipped off Enty?

What’s next? Not sure. Clearly PR’s new hetero idea didn’t fly. But was the joy only allowed for DT’s birthday? Or this is it, they won’t play the game anymore? What’s up with GT/DT, are they done but will play the game for the big events or done and won’t pretend anymore either? Am I going to be surprised if hetero bullshit happens anyway? Nah. Anything can happen now, I feel. But this day and what happened during it is a fact. Whatever damage control happens, if it does, won’t erase what happened today.

Interesting!

#NightGoodOmens talks PR

[misskingshit]

𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘵 summary: where he has an interest in a certain pop singer, and he doesn't try to hide it. note: believe me or not i’ve been listening hip hop since Im like 15 y/o, soooo why not do an M&M’s fic?? Let me know if u want part 2! xoxo

The lyrics of Mr Eminem's new song being mostly about you? That was something you definitely didn't expect.

I get so weak on my knees

Lose all control

Damn, her silhouette

So hot

Fuck bein’ a gentleman

I'm going to fuck her instead

The red carpet at the Grammys has always been a dream for you, you had already won a couple of awards, today... you were excited to be the presenter of one of them.

Best Rap Album.

To say you were excited is an understatement.

You've loved this genre of music since you were a teenager, Tupac, Fifty, Snoop...to name the most classics.

The camera flashes were the only thing you saw, accompanied by many voices that stunned your ears just by hearing your name.

"Y/N! over here!" A reporter called you, without hesitation, you approached.

"Hey how are you?" you asked with a big smile.

"Incredible! How are you? I imagine you're very excited for tonight" he smiles.

"Don't even mention it! I can't wait to call the winner on stage!"

"Do you think Eminem is nominated? He's been on everyone's mouth lately with his latest song..."

Here we go.

"Yeah... well, I'm sure he'll be nominated, I mean, he's fucking Eminem, it would be like a sin if he wasn't, right?" You laughed a little awkwardly.

"What do you think about his last song, about his comments towards you? 50% of people are upset calling Eminem a degenerate..." you didn't let him finish speaking.

"Well...I really like him, I mean, I've always been his fan and it's an honor to be named in one of his songs. Plus I also think that...we all know how he's like, if you don't like his way to be, to think, to speak, the lyrics of his songs, just don't listen to it and that's it, problem solved, I don’t see the point in hating so much on something you can just...ignore" you laugh looking at the camera "Just take things more lightly, not everything is fighting and bad intentions."

You finished your conversation with said reporter and simply headed to your designated seat.

On the other hand, a certain blonde boy was also being attacked with questions regarding his controversial lyrics.

"She's here? Shit, I want to see her," the blonde rapper said, showing a small, very small, smile, turning his head around with the intention of catching some sign of the hot pop singer, you.

"Yes! In fact she will be the one to present the award for best rap album!"

"No shit! Damn man she's here" Em turned around and said to his best friend, Proof.

In a few minutes everyone finished settling into their seats and you both were surprised when you looked at each other, just a few seats away.

You were five seats to the right and three to the back, so you caught him every time he turned his head back a little to look and smile at you.

Until, soon...your moment had arrived, you got up from your seat to head backstage.

By the way, when you walked past the rapper, he didn't try to hide the fact that he couldn't take his eyes off you for even a second.

"And the Grammy goes to..." you created some tension "EMINEN!" You blurted out the name more excited than you should have.

The rapper's reaction might not have been very expressive normally, but he couldn't contain his smile when he knew who would be the one giving to him his award. The rapper and his friends got on stage and it was inevitable that you felt nervous as you watched him walk towards you, with a playful look, as if he knew what he generated in you.

"Congratulations," you whispered when he was close enough to you, taking the grammy as you felt the soft brush of his fingers against yours, he did it on purpose.

You didn't expect him to give you a hug.

"That's all I get?" He whispered back to you, keeping your faces close and your noses touching, his hands on your waist pulling you closer to him as if he didn't want to move away from you.

A great bustle from the public was heard, and it took them both out of the small cloud in which they were.

This was definitely going to stir the waters.

You both walked away, while you greeted and congratulated the rest of his friends (Proof winking at you in the process).

"Wow, shit, this is crazy, thank you so much to everyone who made the production of this album possible, Dr Dre, who always had my back, I will be forever grateful...and my god, damn, thanks to whoever the fuck is that put this beauty in that dress..." he turned to look at you and winked "Y/N Y/L/N ladies and gentlemen, the source of my inspiration for Heat Seeker"

Obviously, you blushed.

The entire audience was applauding, probably already starting to gossip among themselves about the little show between you and Eminem.

Like a gentleman he offered you his hand as he watched you walk down the steps of the stage with great caution. "Thank you," you whispered. “Any time” he smiles at you.

´Til the end of the awards you continued to connect glances from time to time, you also noticed how his friends bothered him every time he turned his head to look at you.

"Hey, Y/N! wait!" listen to yourself behind your back. "Hey," you looked at him softly, "whats up?" He shook his head quickly. "I just wanted to…I mean, normally I wouldn't give a shit, but, I wanted to make sure that the song didn't offend you, it wasn't to upset you…" You interrupted his attempt to apologies "Don't worry, I understand it was just the song, I didn't take it personally, actually, I loved it" you laughed. "You did? I'm glad you're not like the rest and laugh instead of being offended." His attempt to hide his smile failed completely.

It just slips away from him.

Just with you.

A few seconds of silence took over the situation, though it wasn't uncomfortable, your eyes connected and you didn't seem to realize that you had been staring at each other. "Uhm, I was about to go to my hotel," you pointed behind you, "I was gonna change for the afterparty."

"Can I go with you?" He asked you, but before you processed the fact that he wanted to go with you to your hotel, he interrupted your thoughts "I mean, just so then we can go to the party together, if you want" he scratched the back of his neck.

You didn't even need to think about it "Yeah, I would like that" you smiled.

The two of you walked together towards your limo, captured by several cameras, so neither of you doubted that tomorrow you would wake up to a bunch of articles about how Eminem and Y/N left the Grammy's together. But none of you care about it.

#eminem x reader #marshall mathers x reader #eminem fluff #marshall mathers fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers imagine #eminem fanfiction #marshall mathers fanfiction #fluff #shay's requests

[snarky-magpie]

(Moonwater! I really need to write them their own fic. The nerds deserve to be happy together.) A shadow falls over their table before James composes a reply.

“Hey, Reg. Didn’t expect to find you here, but it’s a nice surprise.” Remus accompanies the greeting with a friendly grin. “James,” he adds with a flinch. Didn’t he notice James at first? But why would he approach them in the first place otherwise? Side note, this hiding spot sucks if so many people found him here. But also. Reg? Since when are Remus and Regulus, which, by the way, sounds like one of those muggle myths Lily told him about, on a nickname basis? As troubled as he is by Regulus’ news and worried about Sirius, he can’t help but observe the scene in front of him with fascination. 

Remus is still watching Regulus with a gentle smile, crooked thanks to the scar that tugs at the left corner of his lips, and James expects a scathing reply, possibly containing any or all of the following: filth, half-breed, scum, impure, not worth to lick the soles of my shoes. Or at least that’s what Sirius has him believe. Instead, the younger Black’s behavior performs a complete turnaround. The aloof amusement shrouding him during the conversation with James disappears as if Remus has put a Disillusionment spell on him. Red blotches pop up on his cheeks, and he sputters for a moment before he replies, and when he does, his voice comes out all squeaky, all its posh enunciation gone. 

“Hi, Remus, uh. Sorry. Hope I’m not intruding. I’ve had—a thing, well, a problem, really, I needed to discuss with James.”

“No, of course not. I’m just surprised because you usually take the nook under the stairs, right?” Remus says as if his familiarity with Regulus’ study habits is normal, then blushes furiously.

What in Godric’s name is happening here?

“Yeah.” Regulus meets Remus’ eyes. 

“Quietest place in the library,” they say in unison, both turning even redder than before. 

James bites his lips to stop himself from doubling over in laughter. Oh, this is beyond excellent. Regulus, stand-offish, holier-than-though, stuck-up Regulus, the pureblood heir par excellence, has a crush on the resident werewolf. You can’t come up with this stuff. And Remus seems to be crushing right back. He’ll so owe him for the wingman service he’s about to provide. 

“Regulus was just telling me how he needs help with his transfiguration work. Don’t you, Reg?” he says, dragging out the nickname. Savoring it. The younger Black stares daggers at him but holds his tongue. Clever boy. He understands James is working in his favor here.

“Really? I’ve got Transfiguration to review for the NEWTS. Maybe I could help you?” Remus offers, guileless. Regulus swivels his focus to him, and the daggers melt into puppy eyes in an instant. If James weren’t beside himself with worry about Sirius, he’d pop over to the kitchens for some snacks and then spend the rest of the evening sitting here, enjoying the show.

“That’d be, um, appreciated,” Regulus mumbles.

#james potter #regulus black #remus lupin #moonwater #moonseeker #dead gay wizards #snippet #wip #my writing

[autumnywinter]

Im crazy for this blog! Do you mind writing for yandere Baizhu or some hcs? Maybe a modern au?

Baizhu's more just a clinician than a pharmacist here because I'm obsessed with yandere doctors. It's been a while since I wrote for him, I'm not very confident in this but I hope it's still good ^^

Yandere!Baizhu x Reader

TW: Heavily implied noncon somnophilia, drugging, doctor/patient, gaslighting

You had been seeing and hearing things. It started with little noises outside of your window at night, rustling and shuffling. It scared you, but not enough to do anything about it. Next thing you knew, you swore you were seeing white flashes through your window at odd hours of the night. You'd look out the window, and there'd be not a thing in sight except for the stillness of the night.

It got worse.

Items of your possession began to go missing, mostly clothing, oftentimes dirty. You told yourself it was probably due to your own absent-mindedness, but you knew deep down that something was wrong.

The thing that set you off was when you'd wake up sore and hurting. There'd be scratch marks on your arms and back, and bruises you swore were hickeys on your shoulders and neck. They were in places you couldn't have reached yourself. Your mind had jumped to the worst case scenario, and you were terrified.

Yet your trusted doctor brushed it all off, saying you were getting hallucinations and stressing yourself out far too much. He claimed what you were so sure were hickeys, were actually just bruises. He said you were likely a sleep walker due to your increased stress, hence it made sense that you'd unintentionally hurt yourself while asleep. You'd bought into his reasoning, because he'd always been so trustworthy and reliable.

He gave you medication to help you, but you couldn't help but feel like what he prescribed made it worse. You found yourself more groggy than usual, and often having nightmares. You felt physically sick most days.

But Doctor Baizhu was so trustworthy, you felt like it was the right choice.

You noticed how his fingers would linger longer than they should whenever he took your pulse. You noticed how his eyes would dilate when staring at you for just a bit too long. You noticed how his touch felt wrong, like there was something else behind it. But you were just being paranoid, just as Baizhu said.

"Feeling sick again?" Baizhu's cold hand pressed against your forehead. The touch sent a shiver coursing through your body, the sharp contrast in temperature setting your nerves on edge.

"Yeah," you managed. Your voice was barely a whisper.

"That's unfortunate," Baizhu sighed. He clicked his tongue a few times in thought. "Well, if you continue taking this medicine, you should start feeling better soon. Although I'm starting to worry the side-effects are a pain. I have something else to try, so if you would just give me a moment..."

Baizhu walked off to the other end of the room, leaving you alone. You swallowed hard, wincing slightly at the uncomfortable feeling. Your throat was always dry lately, and you found yourself struggling to swallow, let alone eat. You wished you could sleep, but the nightmares always left you a groggy mess. You could never remember them, only that they were terrifying.

"Ah, here we are," Baizhu smiled, snapping you from your thoughts. He had a bottle of pills, shaking out one singular white one. "It'll dissolve in your mouth. It's to help ease your nausea. I know you haven't been keeping anything down well lately. Hopefully this should help."

You extended a hand, to which he placed it in your palm. Were doctors even allowed to give out pills directly? You weren't sure, but shrugged it off. You popped it into your mouth, and Baizhu was right. It quickly dissolved, and you were surprised that it didn't have a funny taste. You were expecting something bitter or awful, but there was nothing.

"It'll take some time to kick in," Baizhu assured you. "I'd like it if you stayed here until it does. It might make you a little dizzy."

"Sure," you nodded. You had no reason to distrust Baizhu, despite every fibre of your being telling you something was wrong.

The medicine kicked in quickly. Within ten minutes, you were feeling a bit weird, like you were floating. Your head was lighter. Baizhu noticed you swaying and pushed you gently onto the examination table.

"Dizzy?" he asked.

"Uh huh," you replied dumbly.

"Stay lying down," he instructed. Your vision was spinning and your head was empty, so empty you could hardly process the fact he was digging into your belongings and then leaving the room. You wanted to ask him where he was going, but couldn't find the energy. Instead, you let yourself lay there, staring at the ceiling as it spun round and round.

Baizhu came back, rolling in a wheelchair. He lifted you up with a quiet groan, and set you gently into the seat, draping a blanket over you. It was scratchy and thin.

"We're going for a walk," Baizhu said. He wheeled you out, and as loopy as you were, a spike of hazy panic hit you when you saw him leading you to a car in the parking lot that wasn't yours. You tried to protest, but Baizhu cooed, petting your hair and whispering sweet nothings.

"Shhh, it'll be okay. Everything is fine. We're going home."

Baizhu opened the passenger side door, pushing the chair close. He lifted you out with a low grunt. You felt weightless in his arms, like a feather. He buckled you in, and his minty breath ghosted across your face.

"I love you," he murmured.

You passed out before his lips could even touch yours.

#answered ask #yandere #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #baizhu #yandere baizhu #baizhu genshin impact #genshin impact baizhu #baizhu x reader #baizhu x y/n #baizhu x you #genshin x reader

[gabby294]

You Look So Pretty, Pretty Like The Sun - Chapter 1

No matter what Buck did, he could not get Tommy out of his mind. The countless times he picked up his phone to text the guy, to apologize profusely, and to beg for another chance were driving him insane. He was never good at explaining his feelings when it mattered; the words would make sense in his head, but the moment it came to speaking them out loud, they would come out jumbled, and he, more often than not, would mess it up. If there was one thing that he was great at, it was messing things up. Hell, this week alone seemed to be just one screw-up after another.

The jealousy, the near-strangulation by an alien hand, maiming his best friend, and now royally screwing up the one date he really wanted to go well. Worst of all, the date was actually going better than he had expected for the most part. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so nervous about a date; it felt like he was about to jump out of his skin. If he were honest, Buck wasn’t sure how he even managed to function as a human being; certain things just blurred in his mind. At times, he remembered his mind zeroing in on not letting his trembling hand spill the beer as he raised it, on making sure he wasn’t eating too slowly or too quickly, or worse, choking on a date again. But above all, he remembered Tommy sitting across from him, looking at him, giving his full attention only to him. It left Buck a stuttering and blushing mess, yet Tommy never pointed it out or made him feel self-conscious. If anything, he didn’t bat an eye at Buck stumbling over his words; he just laughed lightly at Buck’s stories and shared his own in turn. Tommy would smile that dashing smile and make Buck forget how to breathe. It was easy to forget they were technically on a date, that it was his first time being out with a guy that wasn’t strictly platonic.

That was until the bill came and reality hit him like another lightning bolt. Suddenly, it all became too real; he was on a date with another man and he couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone was staring at him, accusing him of being a fraud, of pretending to be someone else. It was as if everyone could see straight through him and recognize every mistake he'd ever made. He feared that Tommy would take one more look at him and see it all too. Suddenly, all the desperate need to be seen by Tommy disappeared, replaced by dread. Buck shrunk back into himself so far he might as well have left his body, only to watch himself dig such a deep hole and bury his chance at something with the first guy he ever liked.

Which led him to his current predicament. Days later, he still couldn't stop thinking about the man. Buck thought about what he would say, made a whole script of countless ‘ hey’ and ‘I’m sorry’ messages in his head. Had lifted his phone to write them, but every single time he opened the messaging app, the words died at his fingertips. Their previous conversation history would pop up, and there wouldn’t be good enough words to start the message. It only caused Buck to sigh and run his hand through his hair in frustration, feeling a light pang in his chest. They hadn’t exchanged that many texts, as both had hectic schedules but they would get few words in here and there in between calls, mostly about possible places to go. Yet the messages represented the time where they were good.

It took both coming out to Maddie and Eddie for him to pick up the phone again and actually press the button. He waited with bated breath as the phone dialed, his heart pounding inside his chest.

“Hello?” Tommy finally answered, causing Buck’s breath to hitch.

“Hey Tommy,” he managed to choke out. Clearing his throat, he quickly added, “It’s Buck. How… how are you?”

Before Tommy could answer, he heard voices in the background and hastily added, “Sorry, is this a bad time?”

“No, I can spare a few minutes,” came Tommy’s reply. God, Buck really wished he could see the man. Hearing his voice did things to him, but it didn’t compare to seeing him in person.

“I’m good, how are you?”

“No, I’m great. Listen, I, uh… I really want to talk to you,” Buck managed to get out. “Not that we are not talking now, 'cause obviously we are, but…”

But Tommy deserved better than just a phone call. He came to Buck’s place the last time he wanted to talk, which led to the man kissing him and inviting him on a date. The memory of the unexpected but very welcomed kiss caused his brain to haywire, and he realized that silence fell over them as Tommy waited for him to continue.

“Could… Could we meet up?”

It took Tommy a moment to respond, as if he was considering how to reply. Buck’s nerves picked up again. He really wouldn’t blame Tommy if he said no, not after how he behaved the last time. But before he could drown in doubts, Tommy pulled him back with a simple:

“Sure, Evan. When are you free?”

“Tomorrow?” Buck winced, hearing the eagerness in his own voice, but nonetheless his chest swelled with happiness and a wide grin broke on his face. He could barely contain the urge to fist bump the air. “I can send you the details or if—“

“Great, I will see you then,” The screeching ring of the bell interrupted them. “Unfortunately, I do have to run now.”

“Yeah, of course. Thanks, Tommy. Have a good shift.”

“No need to thank me, Evan.”

With that, Buck was left feeling giddy, standing by the counter in his kitchen with a huge smile, as if he were a lovesick teenager once again.

———

The early sun basked on his shoulders as Buck navigated to a free table outside, two cups of coffee in his hands. He had no idea how Tommy liked his coffee, so he got one with cream and sugar. Buck felt more relaxed this time around, more sure of himself, but that didn’t stop him from subconsciously wiping his hands on his jeans. Luckily, before his mind could overthink it, he spotted Tommy turning a corner and walking up to the table with hands tucked in his navy zip-through hoodie. Buck couldn’t help but eye him up. Not only was Tommy gorgeous, but the way he effortlessly held himself with such ease was captivating

“Hey.” Buck greeted him, breathlessly, his heart racing as he straightened up . Tommy smiled, still with his hands in his pockets, his eyes warm and inviting as he stopped in front of the table.

“Hey,” he replied lightly.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet me.” Buck said, his gaze flickering between Tommy’s eyes and the table.

“Of course,” his gaze briefly dropping to the table before meeting Buck's eyes again, a hint of curiosity in his expression. Buck motioned for him to sit down, his hand gesturing towards the empty chair opposite him.

“I, uh, got you a coffee,” Buck said, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of his lips as Tommy thanked him and finally sat down.

“I- I didn’t know how you take it, so I, uh, took a guess.” He was quick to add to fill the silence. He swayed a bit in his chair, the nerves making him feel jittery. Tommy took a sip and put it down almost immediately, a playful glint in his eyes as he teased, “Mmm, so not like that.”

Buck chuckled, his own tension easing slightly in response.

“Seems like there are a lot of things we don’t know about each other.”

“Practically everything.” Tommy quipped, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.

“Well I would like to change that,” Buck declared, his voice steady and certain. “First, I need to apologise. For the way I behaved the other night.”

“You’ve nothing to apologise.” Tommy was quick to reassure.

“No, I do.” Buck met Tommy’s gaze.

“No I didn’t cut things short because you behaved badly. I did it because I didn’t want to pressure you.” Tommy explained.

“Still the way I reacted was not my proudest moment.” Buck admitted, his voice tinged with regret.

“Noted.”

“So uh.. You said before that you don’t think I’m ready.” Buck swallowed. “And the truth is, I don’t know what I’m ready for. But I am ready for something. And I think that something could be with you.”

There he said it, passing the ball to Tommy. A small hope blossoming inside.

“You already know that I’m interested.”A small smile broke out on Tommy’s face

“Come with me to my sister’s wedding.”

Tommy chuckled in surprise, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“What?”he asked incredulously, his tone filled with surprise and amusement.

“I want you to be my date at my sister’s date.” Buck clarified with a wide grin. He really wanted Tommy to join him. To be able to not only share such important moment with him but also to show him off to the people that were most import in Buck’s life. To have Tommy by his side through the celebrations and the dancing.

“Evan.” Tommy replied, still in disbelief, and Buck relished in the moment of having the rug pulled from under his feet for the first time.

“Come on, I’m serious,” Buck continued, happy yet briefly wondering if he broke the man from how shocked he looked. “You know half the people there and she wants to meet you.”

Tommy leaned on his arms across the table, making Buck distinctly aware of the space between them. Ever since they met, they seemed to gravitate towards each other, and Buck wanted to close that space now.

“Are you absolutely sure about this.” Tommy asked again, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Yes I’m sure. There’s going to be free food, and I need someone to dance with.” Buck replied confidently, his eyes meeting Tommy's with determination.

“Okay.” Tommy said, nodding slowly as he processed Buck's words.

“Yeah?” Buck asked eagerly, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Tommy confirmed, a small smile playing on his lips.

“’Kay great.” Without thinking, Buck reached across the table and gently placed his hand on top of Tommy's, feeling a rush of warmth and butterflies in his stomach as Tommy's other hand immediately covered is.

A comfortable silence enveloped them, allowing Buck to relish the sensation of holding hands.

“So,” Tommy finally spoke lightly, his fingertip lightly brushing against his knuckles. “You told your sister about me?”

“Well more about me yet again managing to mess up a date but yeah, you came up.” Buck chuckled, his cheeks flushing slightly.

“Dare I ask what she thinks?” Tommy asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“She’s happy for me. And probably pleased that I survived the date without an emergency tracheotomy again.”

“Come again?” Tommy raised an eyebrow in surprise, sounding half concerned.

“It’s uh a long and embarrassing story.” Buck chuckled, scratching the back of his head. His cheeks flushed deeper.

“I don’t know about you but I have time,” Tommy smiled, giving Buck's hand a reassuring squeeze “And I would love to get to know you.”

“Yeah, I do have time.” Buck replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The unspoken ‘for you’ lingered at the tip of his tongue.

——-

They lingered at their table for longer than it was probably appropriate. Their conversations about work and light personal stories made time fly. In what felt like mere moments, even though the coffee had long gone cold, Tommy checked the time on his phone and sighed.

“I've got a shift starting soon.”

Buck offered to walk him back to his car, reluctantly pulling his hand away from where it had been grazing Tommy’s on the table. As they strolled to the car, time seemed to pass too quickly, even though they didn’t rush. Buck enjoyed the closeness, and though they weren’t holding hands, as they walked, their fingertips lightly brushing against each other.

“So I still don’t know your coffee order.” Buck mentioned as they stood beside Tommy’s car, not wanting their time together to end just yet. They would have to part ways soon enough, but neither of them seemed eager to do so.

“I guess we will have to keep going out on coffee dates until you figure it out.”Tommy smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“I would like that.” Buck replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Me too.” Tommy smiled warmly and Buck couldn't help but glance down, not so discreetly, at his lips. He subconsciously lifted his hand and touched his own lips, their last kiss, fresh in his mind. He watched as Tommy’s gaze moved to his lips as well, catching the action. Buck wanted to kiss him again. Or be kissed by him. Whichever came sooner.

“I should get going,” Tommy finally mentioned, his eyes flicking back to Buck’s. With knees that felt like they were about to give out, and feeling a burst of courage, Buck closed the space between them, letting his lips brush against Tommy’s. He wasn’t as smooth about it as Tommy was, almost clashing their teeth together in his eagerness . But none of it mattered. Any coherent thought vanished as Tommy wrapped his arm around Buck's waist, pulling him closer as he returned the kiss. It was as chaste of a kiss as it was in his apartment, but it made Buck melt into the embrace. His hand instinctively reached for Tommy’s bicep, feeling the firm muscle beneath the hoodie. He could taste the coffee Tommy drank on his lips, the smell of his cologne hitting Buck’s senses and sending a pleasant shiver down his back. A smile broke out on Tommy’s face as he parted his lips and leaned into the kiss more.

Momentarily, Buck forgot they were in the parking lot, so consumed by the feeling of Tommy. He almost whined as the man finally pulled away, instinctively trying to reach for Tommy’s lips again.

Reopening his eyes, Buck watched as a grin spread across Tommy’s face, his eyes smoldering with intensity.

“You are something else, Evan,” Tommy murmured, his tone filled with adoration.

The tips of Buck's ears burned, and he ducked shyly at the compliment.

“Have a good shift,” Buck smiled coyly. “And call me.”

With a chuckle and a promise of a call later, they separated. Buck slowly made his way to his jeep, a stupid grin plastered on his face and excitement cursing through his veins

———-

Link to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55256683/chapters/140163892

#911 abc #911 show #911 spoilers #evan buckley #buck x tommy #bucktommy #bi buck #tommy kinard #ao3 #fanfiction #kinkley #tuck

[fruit-salad-ship]

Jlxkgfhlzlhzlhvgslhhxhlxgkxmgzlgcgdmgsktxfjd

SOFT SUPERVILLAINS!!!!

YEEEES!!!!!

Let them have moments of soft!

I will share one I have thought about for the last two days.

Injured and in hiding, the girls retire to a safe house, patching wounds, passing bandages, and peach being the frontline has sustained some serious internal bruising, she hurts, so she pops some pain killers and clumps on an old dusty couch. Her head lolls to the side to watch plum applying a plaster to her arm, she sees her boss’ white clothes muddied, blood splattered, her hair is not it’s regimented style, her nail polish is chipped, her skin sports damage. She is not herself, and yet peach can’t help but fall back on a daydream. Hazy with her meds she doesn’t seem to mind being caught looking. Plum asks her what, a defensive tone, and peach rolls her head to be comfortable and indulges in her little secret.

She tells plum about the secret wish she’d had. She tells her that in another life, she’d have loved to have met her like a normal person. No violence, no spite, no job between them. Peach paints this picture of running a strawberry farm, selling them by the punnet at a farmers market. She is happy, with no one there to tell her what to do. Plum shows up to her stand, and they both seem to click, a background thought in their heads of ‘oh. I was made for you.’ As they fumble around conversation, with peach’s cheeky grin and plums open smile. Neither girl was damaged, they had a normal upbringing with no trauma to shape them into what they are now. Plum buys two punnets after being offered to try one, and they’re good, they’re so good, peach knows it, she grows em with care. Her parting words are that she’ll be here again same time next week, if plum likes them she should come back and get some more, you know, while they’re in season.

Plum of course comes back, same time next week, looking as radiant as ever, and this time peach works up the nerve to ask her to go for coffee sometime, if she likes, don’t have to. Plum agrees. They go on this coffee date and laugh, genuinely laugh. Have fun. Go on other dates, and this is where peach describes a bunch of things that even in her real life, even now sat on that dusty old sofa, plum would enjoy, she knows because she’s been around her long enough to have picked up on her interests.

Plum once upon a time would have used her quirk to get this story, but peach offers it freely, a cocktail of pain killers keeping her calm and numbing out the pain she’s managing. To plum, this is a gift she did not expect to get, always she has to extract information with force, but this is handed to her, this gentle notion of another lifetime where they get to be normal is offered up with peach’s smiles and weak laughter, aware enough that she’s being stupid saying it out loud.

Plum eventually says peach is wrong. It takes a while to find the words, but she toys with a thread on a cushion and mulls over the story. It’s not that it’s bad, she says it’s that she’d have asked to go out with peach first time they met, she’d not wait to see her again, and she’d not let peach lead. There’s no way. This gets a laugh that hurts, but her big guard can’t help it. Of all the things to have an issue with, that was it? Typical.

Peach slips into sleep and leaves plum to chew over the notion of what if. A woman impossibly cautious, daunted by personal connections, fearful of meaningful relationships, she’s been burnt so many times, now it’s natural to guard herself.

Once they’re back to work and healed up, the story hopefully is forgotten, peach put it behind her, plum however, can’t. She’s tried, she’s really tried, but it’s hard to look at that black clad woman beside her and imagine her being anything but a brutal gun for hire. The idea of her being slack, being sweet, is alien. It’s even more abstract to imagine plum would be on the receiving end, even after how she’s treated her, after how they clash hard, how many times she’s used her quirk to mess with her.

Plum stands in a shop later on, peach is gone, it’s just her, eyeing a tray on a shelf, biting her lip in thought, trying to be brave about something so stupid. She picks up the item, buys it, and takes it home. It’s placed on the kitchen table, where she looks at it for a longtime, with wine, over dinner, while sorting out emails and paperwork. Her eyes always return to the thing she bought.

It’s not until the next day, peach back in guard rotation, that she gestures vaguely after her shift ends for the night, trying not to meet the gaze of her member of staff, a woman who’s gone above and beyond in her work. ‘It’s for you.’ Stated simply as she continues typing on her laptop, not even giving peach a moment of her time, as if she had better things to do, when in fact she’d thought about this for almost 2 days now. It made her nervous. Peach picks up a tray of 6 strawberry starts. Little baby plants that need time and care, but could grow healthy. The only hint peach has gotten that her story didn’t just get thrown in the trash as she’d expected.

Neither say anything, plum can feel her looking over, but peach goes home, and carefully plants them up, and waters them in, and looks at them with a very gentle smile. In another life, they’d have been better, had a good honest chance at love, but who’s to say they don’t deserve it in this one? It’s all they got, may as well try to make something of it.

Doodle for fun^

#I think about the girls being soft way too often #and it hits so much harder when they’re not good people #fruit salad #brainrot #doodle #bnha au

[subaura]

⠀༏ ୨୧ ₊ · 🎟️ PLUS3 AT COACHELLA . . !

on april 7th, fans woke up to news that PLUS3 would be performing at coachella after almost four months of radio silence from the group! interest was at an all-time high from their explosive debut july of last year, and it seems like the group can only go up from here.

✶ ──────────── STYLING !

FROM L TO R : MONIQA, CLÉO, MALANI !

wearing thin layers to combat the heat, PLUS3 graced the stage in simple but fashionable white outfits paired with minimal jewelry and matching white chunky heels while most of the attention went towards their hair. fans in the crowd went wild at the sight of cléo’s auburn colored hair, a color she had expressed wanting to try in the past. keeping up the spirit of change, moniqa would end up with blonde highlights and malani going blonde fully. #POWERPUFF3 would begin to trend once pictures of the girls performing circulated online.

✶ ──────────── SET LIST !

performing hits from their well loved debut extended play, PLUS3 sang hit songs from other artists mixed amongst their own, even teasing a few unreleased ones! the set list is as follows :

✶ NOT MY JOB BY PLUS3

✶ CARDBOARD BOX BY PLUS3

✶ DO IT BY CHLOE X HALLE

✶ FEATURE ME BY PLUS3 — UNRELEASED !

✶ ALL NIGHT BY LANI

✶ BEST LOVER BY CLÉO

✶ WASTE MY TIME BY MONIQ

✶ BABY GIRL BY PLUS3 — UNRELEASED !

✶ WATER BY TYLA

✶ 3X BY PLUS3 — UNRELEASED !

✶ IMMATURE BY PLUS3 — UNRELEASED !

✶ BOOTYLICIOUS BY DESTINY’S CHILD

✶ WALK LIKE THIS BY PLUS3 — UNRELEASED !

✶ SUMMERTIME BY PLUS3

✶ ──────────── NOW ON TO THE FUN STUFF ..

and if i say crowd turnout was doubled because plus3 was announced ? who gon pop me…

the girls were slotted for on friday in the sahara ! so best believe the venue was PACKED

the girls had a cute interaction with some fans before their performance, taking a few pictures before it was finally time and

when i say the opening cheers were heard across the desert? almost deafening i tell you

‘WHAT THE FUCK IS UP CALIFORNIA?’ cléo the woman that you are…

additionally, when it was time to sing cardboard box, she would utter a curt ‘shoutout to everyone who’s dealt with a shitty ex.. let me hear you sing!’ just to be met with answering cheers. wonder who that was for…

no one expected them to do the water challenge mid performance though ! the girls had fun dousing each other with water, several angles of the challenge uploaded to social media to receive millions of views. something something american air…

when it was then revealed that ateez and plus3 were performing at the same venue, fans were quick to try and spot the two groups interacting in the crowd, all eleven of them spotted sitting together and enjoying the rest of the show. several pictures were uploaded to their respective accounts, though pictures of cléo, moniqa, mingi, and seonghwa spotted out and about would catch the public’s attention even more. a really cute video of cléo interacting with jongho would also go viral.

five songs total were teased during their performance ! still, with nothing about another project being announced by the group, chants of ‘full album’ started amongst the crowd spread until the chant was loud enough to hear further way, much to the girls’ amusement.

lani would eventually blurt out something hint at an album during their performance, leading the other two girls to stare at her before she slapped a hand over her mouth in shock. well at least they don’t have to beat around the bush anymore…

rumors about songs being cut from the set list started when it was revealed experience was cut from the show due to knight x pulling out last minute as a guest performer to plus3, netizens wondering if it hand anything to do with the relationship rumors surrounding him and cléo and two others. but enough about that !

the crowd went ballistic when the instrumental to destiny’s child’s bootylicious began blasting from the speakers, plus3 bringing the early 2000s to life with their own twist and flair to the hit song. it drew even more comparisons between the groups, even earning a cute mention from kelly rowland on her instagram story. moniqa found passed out in their dressing room when she saw it.. cléo documenting the entire thing with lani’s laughter in the background.

and speaking of celebrity interactions ! despite performing on friday, the girls were spotted in the crowd on saturday for tyler, the creator’s impressive performance ( cue cléo’s excitement maxing out ), followed by being seen with stars in their eyes watching victoria monet on sunday. tears were shed. we don’t blame any of them.

the girls would go live late sunday evening to thank the crowd for cheering them off, a cozy vibe to the live as they sleepily answered questions and sang harmonized versions of some of the songs they’d heard performed. 3CHELLA ending on a sweet note.

#⟡ ׅ ﹙ plus3. ﹚ 🎟️ #❛ ⟡ ˖͢ artists.mp3 #fake idol community #fake idol oc #fictional idol community #fictional idol company #fictional idol oc #fake kpop company #fake idol company #fictional kpop community #fictional kpop company #fic

[luxaofhesperides]

For the ghostlights drabbles: “Say my name” with a favor being called in?

Duke had saved Phantom years ago, back when he was just out of high school and working to take down a branch of the government that was kidnapping and experimenting on people, targeting magic users and metas. Phantom had been working on his own to take them down, and they met in the middle, trashing a lab and freeing as many people as they could.

They had managed to shoot his back, knocking him down and making him bleed a glowing green. Phantom couldn’t move, protecting two kids with his body, and Duke couldn’t reach them in time before they were taken away by another swarm of agents. 

He was able to go after them in time, free Phantom and the kids, and evacuated the victims before Phantom rained hell down on the facility.

At the end, standing in the background as they watched paramedics treat the victims and take them towards the nearest hospitals, Phantom had turned towards him and thanked him.

Or rather, he thanked the Signal and offered him a bracelet with a rounded orb of ice, glowing faintly in the dark. If you ever need me, he had said, Hold this, and call me name.

Phantom vanished once the last of the victims were transported to a safer location, and Duke hadn’t seen him since.

He’s kept up with news about Phantom as best he can, but from what he could tell, Phantom is based primarily in Amity Park, Illinois, and the town is fiercely protective of their hero. News rarely leaks out of there, and with them running on their own servers and independent internet, it was nearly impossible to get in from the outside. 

Phantom remained a curious and distant figure in Duke’s life. He holds onto the bracelet still, guarding it carefully and sometimes running his fingers over the ice that never melts.

But he doesn’t call in that favor. He’s never to.

At least, not until now.

Sucking in a breath, Duke prepares himself and holds the orb of ice in the palm of his hand. He’s in civies, unable to hide his identity for this, and closes his eyes. “Phantom,” he says.

For a moment, nothing happens. Duke blinks his eyes open and frowns, mind already forming new plans to contact Phantom. Then the ice goes bitingly cold, almost painful, and the temperature in the room drops dramatically. The ice lifts up from his hand, floating in the air, then cracks open.

White-blue light spills out of it, growing brighter as it seems to swallow up the room entirely. Duke hurries to back up, an arm thrown up to protect his eyes. His breath mists out before him and he shivers as the sound of ice cracking fills the room.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, the light disappears and the cold fades away like a bad dream. 

Slowly, Duke lowers his arm and looks up at Phantom, floating in the middle of his living room with a crown made of ice, engulfed in blue fire, hovers above his head. He looks older, more regal, holding his head high. 

He regards Duke carefully for a minute, then tilts his head and says, “Signal?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Man, I’m so glad you came.”

“You… need help with something? You’re calling in your favor now, right?”

Duke nods. He understands Phantom’s confusion; being in the hero business means that favors like these tend to be used only during the most hopeless of times, when the world is close to ending, when the chances of getting out of a situation alive is close to impossible. It’s exactly the kind of thing Duke was expecting to call Phantom in for.

Not the kid sleeping on his couch.

“You’re a ghost, yeah?”

Phantom blinks at him. “Ghost king, now. Why?”

“Well…” Duke rubs the back of his neck, nervously. “I didn’t really know who else to call, and I can’t do this on my own since I’m not a ghost. But this kid got attached to me and won’t leave, so now I’m taking care of her and I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I don’t know why you think I have any experience with kids but—”

“She’s a ghost.”

Phantom stops short. “Ah. I see.” He floats down until his feet touch the floor, and then he’s standing like any other person. “Where…?”

Duke looks past Phantom’s shoulder, and Phantom turns to follow his gaze. Chelsea, the ghost girl, looks to be around nine years old and is fast asleep on the couch, curled up under Duke’s softest blanket.

“Signal,” Phantom says quietly, “What, exactly, is the favor you need from me?”

“You can say no,” Duke starts. “I get that this is a lot. But I need help raising her. And since you’re a ghost, I figured you could help me learn about the ghostly side of things. You don’t have to raise her with me or anything! Just… I would appreciate any help you’re willing to give me.”

Phantom doesn’t say no. He doesn’t say anything. He just stares down at Chelsea, an unreadable expression on his face. 

On the couch. Chelsea shifts in her sleep, brows furrowing as she makes a choked noise in the back of her throat.

Moving on autopilot after so many nights of this routine, Duke kneels next to the couch, fishing one of her hands from beneath the blanket. He gives it a few reassuring squeezes, keeping it a slow rhythm to pull her gently from her nightmare. She settles down in just a minute, brow smoothing out as she continues to sleep. 

The silence grows and Duke is all too aware that his heart is the only one beating. 

He doesn’t hear Phantom move. Doesn’t realize he’s right next to him until he sees Phantom’s hand reach out towards Chelsea. When Duke looks, Phantom is sitting on the floor next to Duke, looking at Chelsea with something soft and devastated in his eyes. His hand hovers about her head for a long moment, then slowly lowers to rest on her head. 

The touch looks gently, barely putting any pressure on her head, but it’s enough to make Chelsea’s eyes snap open, suddenly wide awake. She stares at Phantom with wide eyes, then sits up and looks between him and Duke.

“Who are you?” she asks in a small voice that makes Duke want to stand against the world to keep her safe. 

Phantom smiles. It’s casual and charming and makes him look like anyone else, as if he’s not a powerful king from a realm unreachable to humans. “Hi there,” he says, “I’m Danny. I’m a ghost like you. Signal called me and asked me to meet you.”

The Ghost King is good with kids. Who would have thought?

Chelsea looks at him for confirmation and only relaxes when he nods. “I’m Chelsea. What do you mean ghost? I’m not dead.”

Both he and Phantom tense, carefully keeping their expressions neutral. She hasn’t told him much at all, just that her parents were gone and forgot her and she got hurt, so she wanted to stay with ‘Mr. Signal’ because he’s a hero and heroes keep people safe and he was the only one who was Black like her. Duke hadn’t had the heart to say no, and began searching for her family, only to find that her parents had fled the state, and likely the country, after killing their only child through neglect and a dangerous environment. 

It was then that he realized that her powers were not because she was a meta, but because she was ghost.

It still hurts to realize how young she is, how much of her life had been stolen from her in an instant. Duke hadn’t been brave enough to broach the topic with her, instead choosing to let her grow comfortable in his presence, get them both settled into a routine now that he was her primary guardian. 

“I know it sounds scary,” Phantom says, “And you may not want to believe me, but it’s true. I’m sorry that you died so young, but that just means you get to hang out with me and other ghosts from now on!”

Chelsea crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him. “I am not dead,” she says.

“Cici, I’m sorry to say this, but you are,” Duke cuts in. “That’s why I called… Danny. You have new powers as a ghost, and he can help you get used to them.”

“I’m not dead!” she says again.

“Kid,” Phantom begins, but Chelsea shakes her head hard and hops off the couch.

“I’m not lying! Watch, I’ll prove it to you!” She closes her eyes and scrunches up her nose, concentrating. Her hands curl into tight fists by her sides, and the glow around her grows dim. Two faint, stuttering rings of light appear around her waist. They flicker and wobble in the air, as if weak and uncertain of their own existence, then split apart, one moving up towards her head while the other falls to her feet.

Beside him, Phantom sucks in a sharp breath, but Duke can’t turn to see what’s wrong when he’s trying to take in the sight of Chelsea suddenly full of vibrant color, looking more solid that he’s ever seen her, very much alive.

“See?” she says proudly, lifting her arms and doing a spin to show off her right she was. “I told you I’m not dead!”

“No, you’re not,” Phantom agrees, sounding shell-shocked. When Duke is finally able to look away from Chelsea to check on him, he looks awed. There’s the smallest smile on his face, just the slightest upturn of his lips, but it makes him look softer.

Duke turns his attention back to Chelsea before he can be caught staring. “Cici, can you come here for a second?”

She goes before he’s finished speaking, crossing the space between them in a single jump, then grins up at him. Her hair is a bit of a mess, the two buns he managed to get her hair into falling askew. He makes a note to visit the old aunties in the Narrows later to ask them to teach him how to do hair. For now, he holds out a hand and Chelsea drops an arm into it.

It seems to good to be true, having her be alive, but her pulse is steady and strong when he presses his thumb against the inside of her wrist. 

“Well,” he says, leaning back and letting go of her arm. “You certainly proved us wrong.”

Chelsea doesn’t have much time to look smug before PHantom quietly says, “You’re like me.”

“What?”

“You’re like me,” he tells Chelsea. “A halfa.”

She tilts her head to one side. “What’s that?”

“Someone who is half human and half ghost. Both dead and alive.”

Duke blinks, taking in the words, then turns to face Phantom so quickly he’s worried he might give himself whiplash. Halfa, he said. Like me, he said. 

And sure enough, two rings of light, bright and strong, appear around Phantom’s waist before splitting in half, moving over his entire body. 

Gone is the Ghost King, all powerful and adorned in dark clothing with a crown of ice above his head. In his place is a guy who looks to be Duke’s age, eyes a deep blue and his black hair messy, feet set solidly on the floor. He looks completely normal, completely human, and no longer an impossibility.

“You still up for learning how to use all your new powers?” Phantom asks.

Chelsea grins. “Yeah!” And then, with a quick flick of her eyes going from Phantom to Duke that he almost misses, very innocently asks, “Are you going to stay with us then?”

“I… don’t know?” Phantom looks to Duke for an answer.

Already, Duke can see this going two ways. The correct way forward, the normal one, has Phantom popping in every so often, taking Chelsea out for a few hours to work on training her and her powers. It’s easy and routine and they can keep their boundaries uncrossed and be professional. 

The other path is what Duke wants most that he shouldn’t impose onto the literal Ghost King. He could have Phantom living with them while he’s on Earth and out of Amity Park, having a place at the table, a section in the closet for his own clothes, a quietly domestic night together while Chelsea sleeps where they can get to know each other more, get to know each other outside of news reports and texts on a screen.

“You can stay with us if you want,” Duke offers, casually, “It might keep my apartment safe from her powers acting up on their own again.”

“Are you sure? I could always just fly in on the weekends or something.”

“I’d appreciate having you around. So you can help Cici.”

“If you don’t mind,” Phantom says, looking away. Like this, fully alive with a beating heart, it’s easy to see the blush steal away across his cheeks. 

“I don’t.”

“I don’t either!” Chelsea pops in, looking far too gleeful by their awkward conversation.

Duke can’t help but laugh, feeling lighter than he had in ages. The relief of knowing that Chelsea is alive, for the most part at least, eases the guilt of thinking he had been too late to save her, that there was no chance she could have made it out and had a future, makes him feel weak. All the exhaustion of the past few weeks hits him all at once and he wants nothing more than to collapse in bed and sleep for twelve hours.

“Alright, squirt,” he says, reaching out to pat her head. “It’s late. We can talk more in the morning, so go to bed. In your actual bed this time, not on the couch.”

Chelsea stands up taller, ready to argue, but Duke gives her a Look™ and she quickly shuts her mouth, nods, and drags her feet back to her room (the former guestroom he can never give any of the other Waynes ever again, once they find out about her). 

Sighing, Duke collapses onto the couch once he hears the door shut behind her. Phantom joins him after a few seconds, sitting tentatively on the edge of the couch. The cushion moves beneath his weight, another reminder of how solid and alive he is right not.

Duke wants to touch him, to reach out and feel for himself his pulse, the warmth of his body, his chest lifting with each breath. 

He doesn’t move. He stays where he is, hands carefully still, and tries to think past the dizzying thoughts of she’s still alive, I’m not too late, he’s still here, he’s alive.

“Rough week?” Phantom asks, voice purposefully light.

“Something like that.”

“You should get some sleep too.”

“I don’t think I can. Not after everything. My mind’s too loud right now.”

Phantom shifts closer to him, hesitant in a way that Duke has never seen before in him, and asks, “Want me to stay with you until you mind quiets down some?”

“Yeah. I’d like that. Thanks, Phantom.”

“You know, if I’m going to be around so often as Chelsea’s halfa mentor, then you might as well call me Danny.”

Truth be told, Duke didn’t think that was his real name. He’s glad to know it’s not. 

“Then call me Duke.”

“...Are you sure? You could still hide your identity from me.”

“Nah, I trust you. A name for a name, yeah?”

Danny smiles. “Duke,” he says, testing out the name, and it’s never sounded better than when it falls from Danny’s mouth.

“Danny,” Duke returns. He belatedly realizes that they’ve leaned towards each other, drawn together like gravity, stuck in each other’s orbit. It feels natural. It feels like this is where they’re meant to be.

Maybe he should be more cautious. They’ve only meant once before, after all. But he’s read all he could on Phantom and has seen how Amity Park loves him. He’s stressed and exhausted and trying to figure out how to look after a half-ghost child that’s already been dealt a bad hand in life. He should be keeping Phantom at a distance, watching over him carefully to ensure he isn’t a threat to Chelsea.

But Duke saw how he acted with Chelsea, so gentle and understanding and kind. That’s all he needed to see.

He may not know much about Danny, but he knows this: he is trustworthy.

Enough to entrust his identity to him.

Enough to entrust Chelsea to him.

It’s more than a favor; it’s a promise to walk this road together. 

There’s no one he’d rather do this with. 

“Thanks,” he says again, “For all of this. I know it’s a lot.”

Danny shrugs. “I don’t mind. Really. It’s nice to know there’s another halfa out there, no matter how she came to be one. Makes things feel less lonely.”

“Will you tell me more about halfas?”

“Later. Once you get some proper rest. We’ve got time, haven’t we?”

“We do,” Duke agrees, affection settling warm in his chest. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Learning how to control her new powers won’t be easy for Chelsea. Learning how to take care of her won’t be easy. Learning how to do things together, as Duke and Danny rather than the Signal and Phantom, won’t be easy. But Duke knows with a certainty he feels in his bones that they’re going to be fine.

So long as they’ve got each other, they’ll be fine.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #prompt fill #my writing #thought a lot abt what the favor could be but i could not resist the idea of surprise co-parents once i thought of it #here's a kid who clings to someone she knows is safe bc she is scared and alone!! #heres a stressed out hero trying to take care of a kid with no knowledge of how to do that!! and the kid is a ghost!! #heres a ghost king expecting to be used as a weapon and called in for a big battle suddenly finding another halfa!!! #so much going on here. so much to think abt with this!!!!! #i do love found family like this where they all kinda stumble into it and do their best to make it good #also could not resist making yet another oc. chelsea has my whole heart i love her <3 shes my daughter first #the bats dont know abt chelsea yet!! bc she can go invisble. its all been instinct every time they pop over to visit duke #soon she'll be able to control it and meet them properly #by properly i mean dukes gonna go over for sunday brunch and a little girl is gonna pop out from behind him like 'hi! im new!' #they will all love her of course. they will be shocked but happy!! #and a little less happy abt the GHOST KING duke has been hiding in his apartment that hes co-parenting with #sorry for the long tags im obsessed w this idea i want to Expand on it #maybe one day... with my other wips out of the way...

[oatbugs]

pls i need to provide updates

#basically yesterday night was chaharshanbe suri . which is a solar new yr tradition where we let go of the past suffering in our year #and like...start the new yr w fresh vigour . anyway so my friend was at the event and we were abt to leap over the fire #and she was like bro im im glad u blocked her (situationship) etc etc . and then. my phone started vibrating. and i look at it. and my f #friend looks at it. and its her. and were both like what the fuck?? i blocked her things r Over and anyway so i pick up the phone and shesl #acting like nothing happened (bc nothing DID happen for her) and she was like ohh ur doing chaharshanbe suri im not doing anything etc what #are ur new yr plans so i jusr .IDK WHY I DID THIS . but ig i didnt wanna come off as like lonely i said probably hanging out w family and #friends maybe reading poetry together . et cetera and she was like wait that sounds so fun why didnt u invite me! #LIKE WDYM YOUVE BEEN CONSISTENTLY MAKING IT CLEAR U DONT WANT TO BE IN MY PRESENCE . and i told her that after #everything i thought she didnt want to see me again and she was like you always think that 😐 . like. ?? ok anyway so she expects me to #invite her . and like. there is an above 0% but sub-5% chance she will actually show up . but the panic that gripped me #i started making calls to my friends asking them if they can come on the 23rd bc there must be an event and also i asked my mother #and she said actually yeah i am doing a thing on the 23rd :D it involves over 16 ppl (we live in a v small flat) of which like...7 are kids #so you wont have space to be in ur own room let alone invite others. which tbh like ...being around a bunch of loud kids doesnt seem fun fo #any of my friends or me etc so i thought maybe i should arrange things so that we all go out together and if she shows up she shows up 🤷‍♀️ #but . im so. WHY DID I SAY THAT . i had to panic-call my research partner and ask him to get from oxf to where i live on the 23rd #and when he heard the explanation he like. the light in his voice disappeared 💀 but he potentially agreed so idk #THE ISSUE IS. 23rd im supposed to also have . a date #w this girl that i had a huge crush on when i was 15-16 (posted abt this b4 but id get shitty black coffee in the mornings just to spend a #few more minuted w her each day and she was the cleverest girl in school and she cared abt nothing but her academics but now shes very gay #scraggly homosexual etc etc shes cute) and YEAH IDK #like id have to go there on the date come back fast meet ppl POTENTIALLY (again under 5%) meet situationship girl #like is that even doable #but the thing is it would be so so so funny bc all of my friends dislike her sooo much #.........what if i invited the girl im supposed to have a date w over to hang out w us #god that would be so hilarious and chaotic . i wont do it tho im a mature person x #but it would be soooo funny #I HAVE AN ASSIGNMENT DUE TMRW 12:30PM IT IS 10:49PM RN I HAVENT STARTED IT bc i was rotting sadly in bed #popped a ritalin pill tho so here we go x #i have found myself in a state of such sheer agony and rage and sorrow and grief over this girl that atp i feel like #its just so entertaining . like i feel vaguely over it? ik nothing will come of it so its like just . have fun . vibe

[seagull-scribbles]

From Chapter One of On Mistakes and Birthdaycake by @bemmiecake on AO3

I started reading this fic when it first came out and it’s had such a huge impact on how I think of knuckles and you have definitely seen it’s influence in my art this past year! So it only seemed fair to try do something for the fic itself x

#sth #knuckles the echidna #tikal the echidna #I out tikal in blue because that was a royal Mayan colour and also water and chaos yaknow #and knuckles always gets green in my book tbh #I kind of merged my own design with the description from the fic to meet it halfway #this is the most canon I’ve drawn Tikal in a while ahahaha #on mistakes and birthdaycakes #bemmiecake #it’s been so long since I did fanfiction art #I miss being able to read fanfiction tbh #this one’s been like really good with me self projecting and trying to heal I guess #but I’m not going into that here #this is a beautiful unfinished fic about expectations and self pressure and found family #it’s got great details and world building and a lot of fun echidna culture and law interwoven into it #it’s tagged as sonamy and kuxouge but I don’t ship them and I’ve really enjoy it regardless it’s not in your face #so don’t let that deter you #it’s still being update btw it’s not abandoned but as of uploading this it is unfinished #I really wanted this to have an ethereal feel and also be like a book illustration so #messy by intention and I didn’t render the marking cause I really wanted them to pop that’s what I want your eyes to be drawn too #oh I forgot this fic actually goes into knuckles connection with the metals and how it calls to him and how he can feel and #sence chaos energy in everything and nom nom nom I am eating it up