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dollfacefantasy · 4 months

Text

Playing to Win

pairing: stepdad!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: your new stepdad isn't much older than you, yet he has the audacity to ask you to call him daddy?

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, dubcon, daddy kink, humiliation kink, spanking, praise/degradation

word count: 4.3k

a/n: i got a little silly hehe. this is technically my first commission. if you’re interested, check out my ko-fi. as always i appreciate the support, smoochies.

this is my first commission written for my beloved @nexysworld. without her, this would never have come about. she's a great writer and such a sweet person. you all should go check out her blog if you haven't already.

“You want me to call you what?” you ask incredulously as you stare down the man standing across from you.

“You heard me,” Leon says with no sense of teasing in his voice.

You laugh in his face, a cruel, unabashed laugh. You could not believe his audacity to ask you to call him daddy.

Technically, he was your new stepfather, but it was comical to you to even acknowledge him as such. He was right around your age, only a couple years difference, no way in hell were you going to call him daddy.

You had been open with your mother about your displeasure over Leon’s presence in your life. You called her a cradle robber and a cougar but to no avail. She continued her relationship with him; a young, bright eyed, rookie cop who always thought he knew best.

He wasn’t the problem so much. Sure, he was kind of annoying, but he was also pretty cute. He was funny, and if these were any other circumstances, you could see yourself and him getting along great, even being friends. Generally, he was nice to you, maybe a little over friendly if you were being honest. It always seemed like he knew something you didn’t, but you assumed that was just his nature.

“You’re funny, Leon,” you taunt, “Seriously, good joke.”

“It’s not a joke,” he corrects you and folds his arms over his chest, “Now that I’m taking a more serious role in your life, I expect you to show me some respect.”

“Oh, you do?” you laugh, “Leon-”

“Daddy,” he corrects.

You almost can’t speak, stunned to silence by the nerve of him. Was he doing this to annoy you? Was it supposed to be funny? Because there’s absolutely no way he could be serious about this.

“We are almost the same age. You realize this, yes?” you ask, enunciating the words slowly to get your point across, “I’m not calling you anything but your actual name. And maybe not even that cause you’re pissing me off, and I don’t wanna talk to you.”

“All this attitude, sweetheart, and for what?” he says as approaches you, “I’m not asking you to run a marathon for me. All I want is to be addressed properly.”

You scowl at the pet name. He brings a hand to your face, stroking your cheek with his knuckles before you swat it away.

“What is your problem, Leon?” you say angrily and shove him away, “Is this some fucked up fetish of yours? Like it’s not pathetic enough you’re fucking a divorced woman twice your age, right? You have to feel in control of me too to get it up?”

You laugh at him again when he responds with a glare. Rolling your eyes, you walk closer to him and get in his face.

“Aw, did I hurt daddy’s feelings?” you mock in the sweetest tone you could manage, giving him puppy dog eyes and putting emphasis on the title he was so obsessed with, “I’m so sorry daddy. Please don’t be mad at me.”

You’re about to laugh again before Leon spins you around so you quick the motion nearly gives you whiplash. Your back is flush against his chest, and even though you were teasing, your little performance clearly had some effect as you could feel his dick, now half hard, against your ass. It causes a small flash of heat in your belly that you try to pretend didn’t happen.

“Listen up, I’m not going to tell you again, baby. You do what I’m asking you, or we’re going to find another way to get it through your pretty little head,” he says.

His grip was firm. Despite his usual officer friendly persona, he could obviously be serious when he wanted to be. It didn’t shock you. You knew he was fit and could be intense. You’d caught him working out with his shirt off, sweat dripping down his muscular back while ‘Kim’ by Eminem blasted in his airpods. You tried to deny it, but it had left you feeling a little hot under the collar for the next few days.

You squirm in his hold, but he keeps your wrists pinned to your lower back. “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do, send me to my room? Ground me?” you say as you try to wriggle away.

“Oh no, we’re past that. You want to be a brat, I’ll handle you like one. I’ll put you over my knee and smack that cute ass until it’s raw, and you understand who’s in charge around here,” he says.

“You’re gonna spank me?” you shriek. You thrash harder in absolute shock. “No way! Are you fucking crazy? My mother will kick your ass.”

“Your mother isn’t here, babe. I’ll do whatever the hell I want,” he says. His fingers only tighten on you, digging into your flesh. An arm loops around your waist and starts pulling you over to the sofa. “Maybe she’ll be grateful that someone’s finally trying to teach you some manners.”

Even though you knew he was in shape, he was much stronger than you thought. He sits down on the sofa and folds you across his lap with no real effort. You’re secure there too, unable to get to your feet or away from him. You still try though, flailing your limbs about and bucking your hips.

“There, there. Let’s calm down, honey,” he coos, now clearly taunting you. He rubs the swell of your ass over the tight dress you were wearing. “Just tell Daddy you’re sorry, baby. I’m not a bad guy. I’m willing to hear you out.”

You don’t even respond. You pound your fists against his leg while kicking your feet.

“Poor baby. There’s no reason to throw a tantrum,” he says in the most condescending voice you’d ever heard. He gives you a light warning tap on the ass. “Just tell me what I want to hear, and Daddy will make it all better, give you all the kisses you need until you’re back to being a good girl.”

He was driving you fucking wild. Your body was taut with anger while your mind ran wild with frustration, not only at him, but at yourself. You could feel your panties getting sticky with arousal as he spoke down to you.

“Shut up, Leon!” you say and continue struggling.

His hand comes down again, cracking a little harder against the supple flesh of your ass. You suck a sharp breath in. It didn’t hurt yet, but it stung. Anymore force behind the swing of his palm and you knew he could fulfill his threats of marking up your ass.

“You wanna try that again, princess?” he says, “I’ll give you one more chance.”

“No! I’m not calling you Daddy you sick fucker! I-”

A loud slap echoes through the room. That was the smack you were scared of. So hard you could feel the burn beneath your skin. There was absolutely no doubt about his strength now. He lands another two, one on each cheek, drawing whimpers from your throat.

“Watch your mouth,” he says, “I’m sick of the whining and the back talk. I’ve given you more than enough chances to fix your behavior. I’m done playing nice with you.”

In a quick motion, he yanks your skirt up to bunch it at the small of your back. You squeal out “Leon!” but it makes no difference. Again, you attempt to wriggle away. All it does though is give him a view of your ass wiggling around in those cute panties you wore. The ones he had seen peeking over the waist of your jeans.

He lays more lashes to your skin in rapid succession. You wriggle slightly and involuntarily whine. Your ‘stepfather’ felt no guilt though. Partially because it was all part of the plan, partially because he could see the light purple fabric between your thighs darkening with arousal. Plus, the pathetic noises spilling from your mouth only made him want to work harder, rip more sweet cries from you. He continues cracking his solid hand against your bottom, sending ripples through the soft flesh. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, your eyes start to water, and your bottom lip juts out into a quivering pout.

“Oh, look at that sweet face,” he coos, taking a break from spanking you to stroke your cheek, “I know it hurts, baby. But it can all stop once you decide to stop being a stubborn little brat.”

He punctuates his statement with another swat. Your body jolts forward at the contact, head falling forward to hang in shame. You hate yourself for playing into it, but you can’t stop the automatic response that exits you in a humiliating whimper.

“I’m not a brat.”

“Oh you’re not? Could’ve fooled me,” he responds. He cracks his hand against your cheeks a few more times before giving you a break and rubbing the sore skin.

“I’m not. You’re just… you’re just mean.”

The words tumble from you in a pitiful cry, physically hurting you to say something so pathetic. To show such weakness when he was being such a prick. You shut your eyes, and a warm tear falls down your face. That only made you feel worse, making you want to cry more. A vicious cycle you couldn’t break out of when all your mind could think of was your stinging flesh and his patronizing voice.

“I’m being mean to you? Aw baby, after all the things you said, you think I’m the mean one?” he mocks.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whimper out without really thinking about it.

“I don’t need you to be sorry, sweetheart. You know what I want,” he says.

What’s supposed to be a groan comes out as a frustrated whine. You shake your head weakly and open your eyes again. His fingers slip beneath your chin to lift your face to look at him.

“Just say it. Say it and it will all be over. We can get on to helping you feel better,” he says.

The pain radiating from your ass, now glowing red, was almost enough to make you give in on the spot. But you could hear it in his voice. He was so fucking smug, having so much fun watching you cry and shift around in discomfort. You couldn’t just let him win.

So you shake your head defiantly, sniffling as your watery eyes connect with his in a stare. You immediately regret your decision because the amused glint that forms his eyes lets you know that he enjoys the resistance more than your submission. The corners of his lips tick upwards into a slight smile. Now it’s his turn to shake his head and mockingly tut at you before swinging his forearm and blasting your sore flesh with the heel of his palm.

You cry out, the noise strangled with despair. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip to restrain the louder sobs that were bubbling in your throat.

“Just give in, sweetheart. There’s no need to act tough for me. Do what I know you want to, and say the word,” he orders, his words coming out low and slow.

You know you should, but god, you don’t want to. It’s like your most basic instincts don’t want you to either. You have to think through it, force your tongue to conjure the word and expel it from your lips.

“I’m sorry… Daddy,” you whimper. A couple more tears leak from your eyes. The humiliation that mounts in your chest is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. But as the heat rises to your cheeks and clouds your mind, making you feel dizzy, you feel a deeper sense of heat spreading out in your lower belly. And it only gets worse when he starts in on you again.

“Oh, that’s my girl. Such a good girl when you want to be. I knew you could do it,” he coos, “Say it again for me, baby. Least you can do after being so cruel.”

At this point, you figure you’d already said it once, so what’s one more time. You say it again if for no other reason than to stop his harsh blows from raining down on your sensitive skin.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” you cry.

“That’s right. I know you are, honey. I know you don’t mean that stuff. You just wanted some attention, right? Wanted some time with Daddy all to yourself,” he says as his hand comes up and starts stroking your hair.

You weakly shake your head. You weren’t acting up because of that. He was being an asshole. That’s why you were acting up. Or were you even acting up? Your reaction was justified, wasn’t it? All the attention on you mixed with the shame boiling in your head makes it hard to think through this stuff.

“Oh, are you shy? Don’t wanna tell the truth?” he coos with a cruel chuckle. One of his hands rubs your aching ass while the other trails up and down your thigh soothingly. The latter hand slowly creeps to the junction of your legs. “I know that’s what it is, doll. I can feel it.”

As he says that, you feel fingers petting the damp fabric that conceals your cunt. You take a sharp breath to which his chuckle grows into a short laugh. He presses his fingers against the cloth, and you can tell immediately that even his movements are done in a way to mess with you. His digits drag against your panties, not giving you the pressure you need on your clit. You squirm awkwardly in an effort to find a better angle and not feel the soaked garment cling to your folds.

“Feeling a little impatient?” he teases.

You nod, any remaining shreds of dignity you have slowly being peeled away. You just couldn’t resist. The potential pleasure that’s just out of reach. The heat of his thick cock against your hip. His voice, like soft velvet slipping over your mind.

“Well honey, show me you can ask nicely, and I’ll be happy to help you out. Won’t even make you wait, we can get right to what you really want,” he says. His tone sounds slightly more genuine here.

“Pretty please, Daddy,” you force out. Your eyes cast down in shame as if you’re studying the pattern of the living room carpet.

“Pretty please what, babydoll?” he says, the teasing returning for a moment.

“Pretty please… fuck me,” you squeak.

He smirks, his victory written all over his face.

“Woah, listen to the mouth on you,” he tuts, “Normally, I wouldn’t let that kind of language fly, sweetheart, but I think you’ve had enough punishment for one day.”

His hands squeeze your waist and flip you over on his lap. He wipes away your tears with his thumb and presses a kiss to your forehead, that stupid smug expression on his face the entire time.

The next move is guiding your body onto the couch. You whimper as your back meets the cool leather. He pays that no mind and instead lifts your hips and tugs your skirt and panties off in one motion. You notice in your peripheral that he takes a souvenir, shoving the light purple underwear in his pocket.

After giving your ass a firm squeeze, his hands drift up and pull your shirt off. His eyes fixate on your tits, his soft hands coming to cup them and flick his fingers over your nipples which were beginning to perk up.

“No bra? I guess I should’ve expected that from you,” he chuckles as he continues fondling your soft breasts. The touch relieves some of the building pressure, the weight in your chest just begging to be squeezed and massaged. He watches the pliable flesh move beneath his fingers before giving your nipples a quick pinch and moving to undress himself.

He doesn’t waste any time, his clothing pooled on the floor in mere moments. He gets on top of you. Large hands hook behind your knees, angling your hips upward. Your legs come to rest on his shoulders as he grabs his cock and swipes the tip through the slick that had collected between your thighs.

“So fucking wet, I didn’t even need to warm you up,” he grunts as he pushes the tip in.

You bite your lip, unable to stop the whine it brings out of you. He exhales with amusement, and his free hand goes to your face to rub your cheek. It was only the tip so far, but you couldn’t even deny how good it felt. And while he moves with a purpose, he draws out this first thrust as long as possible. He inches it in, going as slow as he can. The pleasure he gets just from watching you squirm with desperation is clear in the way he looks down at you.

“There we go. Just what you need. Daddy filling you up. Gonna make you a good girl from now on,” he coos and drags his thumb over your bottom lip.

Without even thinking, you open your mouth and flatten your tongue against the digit before wrapping your lips around it. You suck on it gently, softly moaning as your saliva coats his thumb.

At this point, it’s physically impossible for him to look more pleased with himself. Honestly, it seemed like he took more enjoyment from watching you slip farther into his grasp than he did from the feeling of your cunt pulsing around him.

Once he’s all the way in, completely buried in your warm, wet embrace, the hand that had been guiding his cock slides up. He gently thumbs your clit, grinning as your sweet mewls become the slightest bit louder.

He begins dragging himself in and out, savoring the feeling of your walls gripping him, sucking him in. It seems you only clamp down harder as he plays with your pretty little bundle of nerves. He keeps toying with it as his hips work back and forth.

Your eyes flutter, becoming half-lidded with the smooth stream of pleasure flowing through you. You whimper and whine while still sucking on his thumb. He started to repeatedly tease pulling it out before pushing it all the way in, nearly gagging you.

“So precious, aren’t you?” he whispers, leaning forward.

Your thighs are now pressed to your chest. His cock so deep it reaches places you didn’t even know about. He picks up the pace a bit, balls smacking against you with each move. To your dismay, he removes his thumb from your mouth, dragging it down and smearing spit down your chin. Your disappointment is only momentary as he’s quick to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

His soft lips move against your wet ones while he continues pumping deep. Your head swims with the pleasure he provides. Everything becomes a soft warm haze as he toys with your clit and stretches you out. The gentle kisses combine with the tender feeling of his warm skin sliding against yours.

“Gonna have to do this every time you get bratty, baby. Keep you dumb on my cock, exactly where you should be, making sure you don’t get outta line,” he grunts, eyes closing as a wave of pleasure hits him, “This all you needed, just some time with Daddy.”

You nod lazily, all hopes of keeping a resistant exterior up gone out the window. “More kisses, Daddy,” you mumble as you connect your lips in a messy kiss.

He chuckles at the lack of resistance left in you. He returns your nod and indulges you. His tongue slips into your mouth, meeting your own as you make out.

It’s all so good. You can’t get enough. Everything is him right now. It’s all for him. You know you’re getting close and so does he. He can feel the way your pussy rhythmically constricts around him. It’s working him closer too, but he can’t let it end yet. Not before he gets to the final step.

His movements become strategic. You’re teetering on the edge, getting enough pleasure to keep you whining and clutching at him, but not enough for that final push to heaven. Just one more stroke in the right wave, and you know you could get there.

While your head continues to fog up from his efforts, he pulls away from kissing you. He nestles his head in between yours and the couch cushion.

“You know, honey, now that we’re seeing eye to eye, I think I should let you in on something,” he whispers, hot breath fanning across your ear.

“Mmm, what?” you ask. You were only half paying attention, too caught up in the heat of the moment.

“I’ve had my eye on you for a while, sweet thing,” he rasps.

“Really?” you ask, unsure why he was bringing this up but choosing to go along with it in your dreamy state. He had been dating your mom for a while, so maybe he had this little infatuation for longer than you thought.

“Mhm, earlier than I think you know,” he says with a nip to your earlobe.

“That’s nice,” you murmur and nuzzle your face against his hair, breathing in his scent.

“Aren’t you curious when? When was the first time I saw your pretty face? The first time I wanted to slide into this tight pussy?” he murmurs.

“When?” you ask. You tried to feign interest, but fuck, you really just wanted to cum.

“I remember it, clear as day. It was at a party, you remember that guy from high school who had the 3D tv in his basement. It was at his house. You were down there, looking so fucking cute, talking to some douchebag. And I heard you talking to him. About Fortnite,” he says.

You just nod and moan. You honestly didn’t even remember that he went to your high school, but you didn’t really care at the moment. It still felt so good, him drilling in and out of you. You just couldn’t help but wonder why he thought now was the time to bring this up.

“You told that guy your gamer tag. But I realized I also remembered that name. I had played a match with you before. You beat me, stole my victory royale,” he says with a soft laugh.

“Umm… ok,” you reply, totally lost and not just because your mind was all cloudy from being railed into the couch.

“Tell me, honey: do you remember the name rookiepillz?” he asks.

“No?” you say. Was this really the time for this conversation? That was all you could think. But before you could voice your complaint his hand starts rubbing your clit again with even more pressure than before. All words in your throat tangle up into a string of whimpers.

“You should. I sent you a message after that game. Told you ‘I’m gonna fuck you and your mom sweaty,’” he says with a particularly hard thrust, “Well, look at us now.”

You listen, absolutely lost, until the dots start connecting. You turn your head to look at him, not believing this was real. You did remember that message. It made you and your friends giggle for the next hour, created an inside joke for the next few years.

“No way,” you say. You try to keep your voice even, but despite his insane words, his cock was still hitting just right, “Rookie- fuck! Rookiepillz?”

He puts in a couple of those strokes that hit just right, brushed all your sweet spots, filled you up the perfect amount. All the while his thumb rubs your clit in tiny, quick circles. You couldn’t hold on. A sharp cry leaves you as you gush around his cock. You grip the couch for support as your body rolls with the rush.

“Yes way, sweetheart. Rookiepillz,” he grunts.

When most of the high has finished and you’re starting to come down, you open your eyes and look up at him with disbelief. He’s grinning, so satisfied that he’s gotten the last laugh.

“Wha- you’re… you’re fucking insane… literally why would you remember that? And why would you take it so seriously? It’s Fortnite!” you moan, still feeling the aftershocks of your release.

“I play the long game, baby, and I play to win,” he moans as a strained expression washes over his face. He snaps his hips a few more times before slamming in all the way with one final thrust. “This is my ultimate victory royale.”

With that, he empties himself inside you, hot cum flooding your cunt. You whimper yet again. It still felt good even if you just found out his motivation behind all of this was borderline psychotic.

He pumps in and out a few more times before pulling out. His chest puffs with deep breaths on top of yours. Both of you lay together in silence for a few moments. What had just happened? You could barely even comprehend it. Instead of driving yourself as crazy as he is by dwelling on it, you shove him off of you. You get up and start putting on your clothes again.

“You’re fucking crazy,” you say.

He laughs and sits up on the couch. “Don’t act like you didn’t have fun, baby,” he says while stretching, “You were such a good girl for your daddy.”

Your eyes widen and cheeks burn with embarrassment at his teasing. God, why had you ever said that? Now that you weren’t all worked up, you just wanted to go back in time and kick your own ass for even thinking of giving in.

“Shut up,” you grumble.

He stands up, still laughing and clearly on top of the world with his “victory.” You smooth out your outfit as he starts putting his own clothing back on. He holds up his belt and cracks it teasingly.

“Watch your mouth, there’s still time before your mother gets home. That sweet ass might not have enough marks,” he taunts.

You shoot him a glare before storming out of the room.

“Oh come on, babe. If you’re not into that, maybe we could play some Fortnite?” he calls.

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

1K notes · View notes

wrenhavenriver · 8 months

Note

We have the same name spelled the same way and I got whiplash seeing someone with my name posting about games that I play, but also being 30. Not every day you get to see a blog from your future self and realize that maybe, just maybe things will turn out ok. I feel so comforted and I hope you have a lovely day. Your high school self is so proud.

what a lovely message omg. i'm so glad i could provide a bit of comfort for you from some time down the road, because in my experience things absolutely WILL turn out okay, especially once you get through all the Mandatory Shittiness of the teens/twenties!! your 30-year-old self is proud of you right back. be gentle with yourself during the Bad Times and just know that So Much Better is genuinely coming your way.

(and keep playing good video games, i've never regretted that part.)

#in my completely unbiased opinion we do have the superior spelling of kathryn >)#gives you the biggest hug #asks #anonymous

779 notes · View notes

floral-force · 11 months

Note

hey babes!!! I loved that one of Simon and the meet cute, it had me melting 🥹♥️ I was wondering if I could perhaps request a Simon Riley x reader where the reader is part of the 141, but before working with them, she was apart of a special ops group that focused on stuff like infiltration/sabotage, and she’s almost like a black widow sort of character? seduces her targets and takes them out when they’re alone? she’s usually a ray of sunshine with the group, but Laswell presents the mission and everyone’s like “????” and the reader’s like “fine, I guess we’ll do this again” and she’s just COMPLETELY different once she infiltrates??? it gives the whole crew whiplash, but I’m particularly interested in how Simon would react!!! I hope this isn’t too much!!! thanks for always blessing us with your amazing work, and I hope you have an amazing day!!! ♥️

thank you for loving the meet-cute!! this request was fun to fill. I took some artistic liberties and this one really ran away from me...I hope you enjoy this!

(requests are open! search the tags #prompt requests or #prompts and send me an ask!)

Honeypot

Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader (code name "Honey")

summary: You’re Task Force 141’s newest operator, and everyone knows you as bubbly and sweet, earning you the code name Honey. How will the team react—especially Ghost, your stoic but sultry lieutenant—when a mission requires your espionage expertise?

words: 2.9k

warnings/tags: my blog is 18+ only. innuendo, canon-typical violence (fist fighting, gun mentions), bamf reader, task force 141 being buffoons, protective and jealous simon “ghost” riley, competency and size kinks if you squint, reader has a code name and uses she/her but no other descriptors

read on ao3 | masterlist

“The coup in Luxembourg is out of our usual bounds,” Laswell said, “but a covert agent working under the deposed Grand Duke has requested our aid.”

“They’ve been an ally to us in the past,” Price added, looping his thumbs under his tac vest, “so I expect you lot to execute this mission with as much precision and urgency as you would any other.”

“Country’s smaller than Scotland, innit?” Soap asked. “How the hell are we s’pposed to be discreet?”

“That’s where you come in, Honey,” Laswell crossed her arms and gave you a pointed look. “You remember your mission in Morocco?”

You smirked. “Is the sky blue?”

She gave you a small chuckle. “We need your expertise.”

“Fine.” You gave a dramatic sigh. “I guess we’ll do this again.”

“”M sorry,” Gaz interrupted with a scoff. “Do what, exactly?”

You turned to look at where he sat across the table from you next to an equally confused Soap. Ghost was twisted in his chair to look at where you sat behind him.

You raised an eyebrow, your eyes flicked between Price and Laswell. “They don’t know what I did in the States?”

“No,” Price muttered with a hint of embarrassment. He cleared his throat and shrugged like a tired parent as he said, “I suppose it never came up.”

Gaz gave an exasperated sigh, his impatience getting the better of him. “Well, go on then!” He urged.

“I was a contracted espionage agent for the Department of Defense, and—”

“The Yanks used contracted agents?”

You rolled your eyes at the interruption. “Yes, Soap. Now, as I was saying,” you continued, shooting the Scotsman a playful glare, “I was hired for infiltration ops. Ones that required a certain…je ne sais quoi, a more feminine touch you lads wouldn’t be capable of.”

When they all stared at your smiling face with blank expressions for a few moments—even Ghost’s eyes were narrowed with confusion—you jerked your head forward and waved your hands. “Guys, I seduced the targets.”

The confused silence persisted, and you looked around, giggling at each of the guys’ reactions, looking at Ghost last. His gaze pierced you the most, his brown eyes never leaving yours. Your teasing giggles faded, and you severed the eye contact with a roll of your eyes. You looked at Laswell again and crossed your arms, bored of the topic.

“Now that that’s settled, can we please finish this briefing?” you implored. “I have to make sure I have a dress that’s fitting for a date with a dictator.”

“You sure you’re gonna be alright?”

“For the hundredth time—” you swung a heeled foot on a worn curb with a huff and hiked up the fabric of your dress—“yes, LT, I’ll be fine.” You adjusted the holster on your thigh and smirked at Ghost’s silence. “See something you like?”

There was a pause, and you looked up to see Ghost quickly look away at the street. Guilty.

You knew he felt some sort of way about you; whether it was good or bad was still unclear. One thing was for damn sure: Ghost had his sights set on you. You’d felt his skeletal stare linger on you ever since the briefing a week ago, and he wasn’t as sneaky as he thought he was at stealing looks when you were at the range or sparring. Anyone else might feel like his prey—trapped by hungry eyes and cornered by a hulking frame—but you were so used to being the predator that you didn’t let it get to you. It was a little…fun.

Sure, he gave you butterflies, but that was because you’d never dealt with seducing men like him—at least, that’s what you told yourself after thinking about him with your hand between your thighs.

For now, you’d innocently tease and poke and prod the masked man with Soap and Gaz’s support. For now, you’d holster your loaded M9 and leave your leg exposed in yellow lamplight as you made sure your clutch had everything you needed. For now, you’d pretend that you weren’t thinking about him trailing his hand up from your ankle to the holster and grabbing the meat of your thigh.

“We’ll be able to hear everything through your earpiece. Soap and I will have eyes on you in the palace, but stay near windows,” Ghost said, interrupting your thoughts. “Gaz’ll be on the roof.”

You swung your leg back down, wobbling. Ghost clutched your forearm, and you gripped his, fingernails scratching the fabric of his sleeve and digging into it for stability. His large hand snaked up to hold your bicep right above your bent elbow, your ears heating up when you met his eyes and saw something akin to lust in them.

His grip lingered even after you were steady on your feet again, only letting go when you gave him a flustered smile. You busied yourself with smoothing out the full skirt of your dress and adjusting the discreet monitor in your right ear.

“All you have to do is get ‘im to the roof. The lads ‘n I will take it from there, as planned.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “If anythin’ goes wrong, jus’ get yourself out alive, Honey.”

“Got it.” You adjusted your necklace, and sheepishly asked, “Is it centered?”

You could smell sweat and sandalwood when Ghost stepped closer, his broad armored chest just inches away from your body. His large, gloved fingers graced over your skin and hands, delicately centering the elegant piece with tactical precision.

Brown eyes looked you up and down. “Looks good, Honey.”

Ghost stepped back and his hands fell, one curling around his radio and the other limp on the rifle slung across his body. You burned underneath your dress.

After testing the comms and getting location reports, you gave Ghost a thumbs up and started walking to the palace down the street, rolling your shoulders back and taking a few deep breaths. You could feel his brown eyes burning a hole through you the entire time, so you made sure to sway your hips a bit more than you usually did while seductively strutting somewhere.

It hadn’t taken her long to reach the third floor and approach the tall paned window with the target, just as she’d been instructed to do in their final briefing. Watching Honey expertly navigate the gala and get the target attached to her side faster than the speed of light stirred something within Ghost. Whether it was admiration for her skill or arousal was unclear. Either way, he’d be lying if he said she didn’t look ravishing in her dress. He tilted his head and greedily peered through the scope one last time before tearing his eyes away and adjusting his position on the grassy hill.

Honey was as lethal as she was sweet, and if her saccharine smile didn’t instantly ensnare her target, her sugary tongue would. Instead of doling out compliments, she accepted them and kicked innuendos back; instead of making cringy puns and flashing finger guns, she bit her lip and tugged the target’s suit jacket. It was entirely different from who she was around the team on base, and Soap had made sure to emphasize that all bloody night. Even Gaz had chimed in a few times, both men trying to get him to comment. Ghost silently refused, skin flushing under his mask.

Now that she was closing in on the target, things had become even more heated. He looked at her through the scope again and listened. Ghost heard her laugh, the sound bubblier than the champagne in the flute she raised to her pretty lips. She took a sip right as Soap said the punchline of a joke, her shoulders rising and falling sporadically with a daintily covered cough.

“Watch it, you twat, you made her choke,” Ghost snapped.

“Sorry, lass, sorry!” Soap crackled over the comms. There was a rustle. “In my final position. Eyes on Honey and the target, LT.”

“Gaz?”

“In my final position, LT, eyes on the extraction point,” Gaz replied, his voice set and sure.

“Captain Price will leave on your command to meet you and Sergeant MacTavish at the rendezvous point, Lieutenant,” Laswell buzzed in his ear. “Gaz, you go with Honey and the target.”

“Affirmative,” Gaz and Ghost responded.

“Affirmative. And, Laswell, you can call me Soap.”

“Negative, Sergeant.”

“Aye. Copy that, loud and clear.”

“Shut up, Soap.” Ghost grumbled.

They heard Honey giggle in response to another one of the usurper’s idiotic compliments, and Ghost saw her flirtatiously tap his arm with her knuckles.

“Y’know, if she heard one of us say tha’ in the pub, we’d never hear th’end of it.”

Gaz hummed in agreement with Soap, and he couldn’t help but shake his head and smirk. Honey laughed again and clearly echoed another awful line the target gave her. Ghost could tell the grin splitting her pretty lips wasn’t genuine—her nose didn’t crinkle like it did when he deadpanned the punchline to a stupid joke or when Soap had called Price “Pa” a few weeks ago.

There was snickering over the comms. Ghost boldly asked, “Honey, take a drink if you meant for us t’hear that shite attempt at flirting.”

Soap cackled when the rim of the champagne flute touched her lips and her throat bobbed with a long sip.

“Well?” Gaz asked expectantly.

“Was a yes, Gaz,” Soap responded.

Ghost saw her eyes flutter closed as she pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, and he grumbled; hopefully nobody had heard him. He was itching to move, his finger hovering over the trigger and his jaw clenching each time the target touched her.

“Right, Honey,” Ghost said, focusing the team again and settling himself down. “Once you’re on the roof, I’ll call Price—Gaz, move on my word or Honey’s, or when Price arrives. Soap, get to the rendezvous when I call Price. I’ll watch Honey and the target. Understood?”

Gaz and Soap gave him their affirmatives. Honey nodded, looking out the window and winking.

She looked back at the target and seductively bit her lip. “Do you think we could go somewhere a bit more…private?” Her query was laced with something sticky.

The target gave her his piss-poor attempt at a sultry smile, resting a hand against her neck and disturbing the necklace Ghost had adjusted earlier.

He’d be lying if it didn’t make him want to shoot the git dead where he stood.

There was a quiet yes, and Honey said, “I’ve always wanted to be kissed under the stars.” She forced a coquettish giggle. “Well, kiss, and…more, if you catch my drift.”

The target leaned in and pressed a kiss on her right cheek, the act on full display to Ghost.

“That can be arranged, my sweet,” the target murmured, his voice tainting their comms and making Ghost roll his eyes.

When the target abruptly gripped her waist and pushed her against the window, Ghost heard the faint sound of glass breaking and heard Honey force a playful comment about dropping her flute. Now, Honey’s back was to him, one of her hands flat against the window, her fingers splayed out. His clear shot was ruined. Ghost swore and Soap did as well.

“Target moved too far to my right. Can’t get a clear shot. LT?”

“Negative,” Ghost answered. “Honey, make a fist if you need back-up.”

Normally, he would’ve already had someone storming in to help if he wasn’t already, but Price had made it clear that this mission required tact. Ghost was on edge, but he had to trust Honey, even if the sight unfolding in the scope of his rifle made his skin crawl.

Honey clenched her fist.

“Affirmative. Gaz, Soap, hold your positions. Comms are quiet unless absolutely necessary.”

“Affirmative, LT,” the men immediately replied.

“Extraction is ready on your word. Get out of there—alive,” Laswell stressed over comms.

“Affirmative,” Ghost sighed, his trigger finger ready and aching to move.

“Not here,” Honey mumbled. Her fist remained clenched, the other hand still clutching her tiny bag.

She squealed in surprise when one of his hands dropped to grab her ass and squeeze. Ghost sharply inhaled, and he heard Soap clear his throat, holding back from asking for a visual on Honey.

“Not here, Johann,” Honey snapped, the sweetness quickly melting off her voice. “I want you, but I want you to touch me on the roof.”

The target’s other hand grabbed the other hidden cheek, fabric bunching up in his grip. “Want you here, you lovely little thing. Roof can come later.”

Honey gave him the tinkling laugh she shared with the team after showing them a video of a puppy or some other baby animal. Sometimes, Ghost smiled under his balaclava when it was thrown his way—but he’d never tell a soul.

This time, the sunny bells were a warning, and if the target didn’t do as she said, Ghost had a feeling he’d regret more than the coup.

“If you say so.” Her voice was uncharacteristically dark, its hidden sharp edges revealed.

“Gaz, Soap, be ready for my word,” Ghost said as Honey pushed forward, her heel pressing her dress’s hem against the window.

Just as they both responded, a howl pierced the comms, making Ghost wince. The target was doubled over, and Honey was kicking off her heels, sending them flying towards the windows across the hall. She took a lunging step forward over the broken glass and adjusted her body before throwing a punch to the target’s left cheek. He staggered up and took an angry, sloppy swing at her, but she dodged it and kicked her heel into his knee to destabilize him so she could gut-punch him. The target dropped to the floor. Ghost’s mouth went dry, and his cock twitched as she grabbed a fistful of the target’s hair.

“We’re going to the goddamn roof,” Honey gritted out.

When the target gave her a sly smile, she took a step back and let go before punching him again. The corner of Ghost’s mouth twitched with a smile when he saw the target staring at her with fear. She’d literally punched the smile off his ugly mug.

“On your fucking feet,” she growled, and he obliged.

Though he stood, he fought her the whole way to the stair entrance, and each time, his resistance was met with another blow to the gut. Ghost hummed in approval. This honeybee had a wicked stinger and wasn’t afraid to use it.

When she disappeared from Ghost’s sight—still swearing and commanding the target up the stairs—he made the call to Price, then barked over comms, “Soap, rendezvous. Gaz, be ready to assist if Honey calls for it—and, Honey, Gaz is ready to help restrain the target.”

“Negative, LT,” he heard her pant.

He saw her push the target through the door and onto the roof’s hidden balcony. Gaz was crouching down where he hid, his feet ready to run and his gun in his hands.

Ghost heard her sharply exhale and barely tracked her hand fly up to the target’s bicep. Then, he saw the target slump down to his knees and fall face-first to the ground.

“Is the target alive?” Ghost hissed, impressed but angry. “If you killed him—”

“Affirmative, LT,” she interjected, catching her breath and pulling an orange bag out of her clutch and depositing something in it. “Just a sedative. He’s gonna take a nice nap during the flight home.”

She hummed a random tune—her favorite song, Ghost noticed—as she put the bag back in her clutch. Honey waved at Gaz when he came out of hiding and walked over to her. Ghost saw her nudge the target with a bare foot and proudly put her hands on her hips.

“Bloody hell, Honey!” Gaz exclaimed, shaking his head. “Did Price know?”

“Affirmative,” Price boomed through the comms.

The helicopter came into view and Ghost stood up with a huff, slinging his rifle back across his body. He could see them helping Honey up onto the hovering ramp, her dress blowing in the wind. He chuckled before turning running into the forest behind him towards the rendezvous point.

“Headed your way, Lieutenant.”

“Affirmative, Captain,” Ghost replied as he came to a halt next to Soap in the clearing.

“LT!” Soap exclaimed, yanking his earpiece out, mouth agape. “Th’fuck I’d miss?”

“Ask Gaz,” he said simply, earning a groan from Soap.

The chopper thrummed overhead as it descended. They ran towards the ramp as it lowered, Honey’s triumphant face illuminated by the hold’s red light. Ghost climbed in and sat beside her with a grunt.

Once they were airborne and starting their flight back to base, Gaz described the scene Soap had only heard. Ghost noticed her diamond necklace was askew from her skirmish and hesitantly centered it. She gave him a soft smile and turned her head so her chin grazed over his covered knuckles. The gentle hum she gave him coated him in sticky-sweet syrup. “Honey” certainly was a perfect codename for her, he reckoned, contrasting her innocent sweetness and cutesy smiles with her impressive—and, at times, lethal—infiltration skills.

Yeah, Ghost was stuck in her treacly trap—and he didn’t plan on escaping.

masterlist

taglist (join here): @tizylish @dheet @sinfulsalutations

#thank you for the request!!#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley fic #cod fic #call of duty fic #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii fanfic #my fic #filled request

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liyawritesss · 9 months

Text

ᴡᴇ ʙᴇ ʟᴏᴠɪɴ' ꜱᴏ ʜᴀʀᴅ

Characters: Spider-Verse!Miles Morales [Spider-Man] x Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Drabble

Word Count: 1.4k

Synopsis: When there’s question of how the two of you should come public with your relationship, Miles has an idea. Despite it being quite cheesy, it’s one of the sweetest gestures he’s ever done for you.

Warnings: Some cursing but that’s about it

A/N: ‘lovin’ so hard’ by becky g came on so randomly and when i tell you the whiplash i got cuz i aint heard that song in YEARS…so proud of becky she’s doing her shit and i love her sm…needa get back into her catalog real bad

Song Suggestion: "Lovin' do Hard" by Becky G, "Sunflower" by Swae-Lee & Post Malone, "I Wanna Be Down" by Brandy, "Comfortable" by H.E.R.

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22 @movie-enthusiast22 @famedrs-blog

“I got a question.”

It was ten forty five on a Thursday night, and like any other night, you wind down the evening with a daily FaceTime call with you boyfriend of four months - Miles Morales.

In the four month time frame that you and Miles have been together, you’ve learned that the boy had a lot of questions to ask about you. It was endearing, really, how the extent of his curiosity knew no bounds. He had questions about everything, from the different hairstyles you wore, to the classes you were taking, to what you aspired to be as an adult. More often than not, he would ask them in a cute, almost childlike voice, with big doe eyes and an awaiting look of inquiry, and because he was just so polite about it, you always gave in.

“You got a question?” You repeat, glancing up to your phone, looking at the boy on your screen. You’d been busy with homework at your desk to pay him much attention, which, now that you think about it, could have been the catalyst for one of his questions. You’d only been on call for an hour, but you did tend to get reeled in to your work pretty easily. Miles was no stranger to this, so while he tried his best to not bother you, his attention span was waning thin, and he wanted to talk with you as much as he could before he had to go out on patrol.

Hence why he was dressed in his spiderman suit, no mask, but with gray sweats hanging off his torso and the faint sound of Biggie Smalls playing in the background as a way to hype him up for the next few hours of swinging around Brooklyn. He loved being Spiderman, but it had been an exceptionally long day, and knew he would not survive his patrols without some sort of pick me up - which is why he was more than happy when you called him for your nightly FaceTimes.

“Yeah, I gots a question,” he begins, albeit a bit dramatically, with his arms folded over his chest and a pout on his lips as if he were sad about something, which garnered your attention even more, “and it’s very important, y’know, so yo’ homework gotta share you for a minute!”

“Miles,” your voice goes, a soft scoff leaving your lips as they spread into a grin at his behavior, “what is it, baby?”

There’s a bit of a stutter that runs through his body at the pet name. He’s growing familiar with it, sure, but the tingle that rings through his bones has him questioning is it just his sheepishness or was he so down bad for you that you’ve influenced the enhancement of his spider-senses.

“That sweater’s lookin’ mighty comfortable,” he starts, and you can feel your eyes begin to roll at the game he starts, “wonder who you got it from, hm?”

Granted, you didn’t know you grabbed his sweater - the same one he’s always left over your house by conveniently ‘forgetting’ it when he left. It was a noticeable red zip-up that faintly smelled of sage and cinnamon, which was a comfort on cold days and stormy nights when Miles couldn’t be there for you in person. He’d ‘given’ it to you before the two of you started dating, and you’ve claimed it to be one of your most prized possessions generally, but especially from him.

“Boy, please,” you muse, lips spreading wide with a grin once more, “I’m not doin’ this with you tonight.”

“I’m just saying!” The brown-skinned boy exclaims. “I just find it funny how it’s cool for you to have my stuff, but I ain’t got nun’ of yours!”

While Miles was possibly the most emotionally intelligent boy you knew (which you’ve definitely thanked Mr. and Ms. Morales when you met them, both as Miles’ friend and as his lover), he loved to not be direct with what he really wanted sometimes. He feigned victimhood for the giggles he loved to hear from you, even though both of you knew what he wanted in the grander scheme of things. This instance was no different.

“Why you gotta be so dramatic,” you laugh at him, his lopsided grin making an appearance on his lips, “if you wanted one of mine you could’ve just said that, dork.”

“No!” Miles says rather quickly, which catches you off guard and earns him a puzzled look, eyebrows furrowed together at his behavior.

“No?”

“N-No.”

“So…you don’t want one of my hoodies? Even though we wear the same size and everything?”

Miles bit his lip in anticipation, his chest rising and falling with his deep intake of air through his nose. The boy scrunched his nose, a habit of his you’ve come to understand as him preparing himself to go out on a limb, which only confused you more.

“Your- uh…your scrunchie.”

Your eyebrows furrowed together in confusion at his confession. “My…scrunchie?”

“Yeah, y’know,” he stairs to move his hand around, motioning towards his hair, “the things you put in your hair? That somehow don’t go against dress code, even though I always get talked to about my shoes for some reason.”

“To be fair, you got some loud ass shoes.” You respond, a short laugh breaking its way through your lips despite you trying to hide it. The pout that graced Miles’ face didn’t help with you regulating it, either.

“Okay, okay, fine!” You eventually say after regaining your composure, and before Miles goes to threaten to hang up the phone on you. “I’ll bring the jar tomorrow and you can choose which one you want, how does that sound?”

Miles nods vigorously through your phone screen, and you could tell by the little twinkle in his eye that he’s absolutely ecstatic about the proposition.

“This is…a lot of scrunchies.”

It’s the first thing that comes out of his mouth when Miles watches you dump the jar of scrunchies onto the lunch table, eyes growing wide when you seem to pull out more than what looks like the jar can actually hold. There’s a little pile of varying colors, styles and sizes that’s built itself onto the table, and Miles has to admit that the task at hand seems a bit overwhelming now that it’s actually before him.

Granted, he doesn’t think he’d ever seen you wear the same scrunchie twice, but had he known your collection was this big, he’d just asked you to pick one out for him. How could he possibly choose now?

“How many do you even have?”

“I don’t know, I stopped counting after sixth grade-”

But Miles is already sifting through the pile, pulling out ones that immediately catch his attention. He has a concentrated look in his eyes - he’s taking the task very seriously, and it’s honestly adorable to you how deep into this whole exchange he was.

You took note of some of the ones Miles has already pulled out - a ribbed-fabric beige one, a group of satin ones varying in shades of blue, and ironically black and red colored one that he continuously eyes every now and then, and a silk sake green one that just so happens to be your favorite. Miles finds out the reason why the second he touches it, being soothed by the silk fabric under his fingertips.

“You want that one?” You ask him, to which Miles glances up at you from across the table, seemingly embarrassed by his entrancement of the hair ornament.

“It’s your favorite, though, right?” He responds. “I don’t wanna take it if it’s your fav-”

“-and I think that’s the perfect reason why you should take it.”

You say it as you begin to stuff the remaining scrunchies back into the jar, handfuls of the bunches slipping into the glass container with ease as you spoke again, “It’s the one I use most frequently. Meaning it smells like me more. Meaning that there’s more of a ‘me’ touch to it, so that you won’t be as lonely.”

It takes a second, but when your words register in Miles’ head, you can almost feel the heat that begins to creep up his neck from the affectionate words you spoke to him.

The bell rings, signifying the end of the free period. Miles takes no time in slipping the hair ornament around his wrist while he bids you farewell. As you depart for the second half of your classes for the day, Miles can’t help but fiddle with the object around his wrist as his own classes drone on.

You were right, he thinks, he definitely doesn’t feel lonely with the presence of your scrunchie with him.

#black reader #black tumblr #black spiderman #spiderman #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman beyond the spiderverse #spiderman itsv #spiderman atsv #spiderman btsv #spiderman atsv x reader #spiderman atsv x black!reader #spiderman miles morales #miles morales spiderverse #miles morales spider man #miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #1610!miles #1610!miles morales x reader

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lizandbo · 11 months

Note

okie doks, so i would like a hc where bokuto, kuroo, and maybe tsukishima react to seeing their volleyball player! girlfriend play for the first time

i love your blog btw :) it makes me happy <3

Volleyball player!reader x kuroo, bokuto and tsukishima

I’m so so glad that my writing makes you happy, plus this ask is like 100 years cuz time management is not a thing for me

Masterlist

Tsukishima

Before I say anything else HE WILL LAUGH WHEN YOU MESS UP

When you tell him that you play volleyball he might not believe you until he sees it with his very own eyes

He would believe you but ✨trust issues✨

If you ever invite him to one of your matches he just either gives a glare and says a monotone “ok” or grunt in response

But most times he goes to your games without you knowing

Tsukishima wants to see when do your best without the pressure of people yk watching you

Cuz honestly I feel that wholeheartedly

But man when he does see you?

Bros gonna explode from being flustered

He thinks that you honestly look really hot, but he never ever gonna say that

Not even when he’s being held by gunpoint, which honestly who would ask that question if you were being held by gunpoint?

Anygays

He just appreciates your work ethic in volleyball

Not being too annoying and obnoxious about volleyball or not giving a fuck with his standards

Nice balance

and at some point you motivate him to push on his own hobbies (more so volleyball)

When you catch sight of him you whip your head around to get a double take almost getting whiplash in the process

He just covers his mouth and snickers by the confusion of your face just now realizing that he did attend your match after all

You shuffled up to him half bashful half excited to see tsuki

You wrapped your arms around his middle and he stared back to, giving you a little headpat

“Sooo how did I do? Since you’ve been stalking me like a dimwit”

“You did better than last time ig, moron”

“You were here last time too??”

“Now see your the dimwit here since you didn’t even realize I’m coming to your stupid games”

“Awww tsuki I thought would’ve never be here:(“

“Your an official dimwit” tsukishima says with a blush darkening

Bokuto

He knew you played volleyball cuz he always has asked you how was your day? Every single fucking day

Even before you were dating

It might get a lil annoying sometimes but baby boy genuinely wants to hear about your day

Prolly at some point interrupts you by accident but once he realized he apologizes so damn much

But a simple “it’s ok bo” is enough for him lmao

ANYWAYS

IS SO PROUD OF YOU WHEN YOU PLAY

ALWAYS YELLS LETS GO Y/N OR HEY HEY HEYYYY THATS MY S/O

Vvvv proud baby

Whatever position you play he’s so so so supportive

“Y/n! That’s such a great set im so proud of you”

“I KNEW YOU COULD DO SO WELL BABY”

“HEY HEY HEY! That spike was so accurate, you should have a kiss as an award! Come her baby”

“BLOCK THEM BASTARDS! YEAHHH”

When the match/ practice is over he’ll quite literally jump and attack you with a bear hug smothering you to absolute death

You guys go to your car him carrying you bride style and finding a withered mess of half dead rose petals in the passenger seat cuz bo was so focused on seeing you than bringing the damn bouquet of flowers he was gonna give you

“Well… maybe I’m just distracted by incredibly sexy and hot partn-“

“OKAY BOKUTO, LETS JUST GET IN THE DAMN CAR”

“Your also very cute when you stammer like that”

“Booooo”

Kuroo

Also a vvv proud baby

Found out by having the volleyball match delayed and you coming home late

Quite literally did the mom “and where were you?” Thing on you

But he was concerned for his baby cuz you could’ve gotten kidnapped

You told him that you were at a game of yours and he was appalled

“And you never thought that I would like to go?” Pouts like a little girl in a playful way

“Well I just never thought you wanted to go since your always so busy”

“Bullshit, I’d do anything for you” he practically manhandled you onto the bed and cuddled there

“Oh really? Anything??” Your eyes sparkled as he met your eyes with a small smile

“Yes baby, anything. Your my one and only”

“Ok so would you do the dishes for me? Oh oh and cook dinner too that would be absolutely fantastic”

Rooster wasn’t too happy with that response smh

SKJDJDJD I GET SO DISTRACTED ANYWAYS

rooster baby would go to any games when he has free time

Analyzes your movements a lot

But he’s never deeply judging you in a negative way, he’s just observing

Becomes your personal trainer but would never push you too hard

Always after matches no matter if you win or not he’ll always have some version of “you did well baby, now drink some water I’m not letting you be dehydrated”

Always gives you a meaningful hug too

Kisses are also a definite must

One on your forehead, nose and three on the lips

It’s like a secrete combination just between the two of you

Even tho it’s not even like a lock or some shit

It always amazing him how you do certain things when your focused into your game

Sometimes laughs at how cute you are

Just being a proud parent boyfriend is all you need

#lizandbo #Kuroo x reader #kuroo fluff #kuroo hcs #kuroo headcanons #kuroo x volleyball player reader #Bokuto fluff #bokuto hcs #bokuto headcanons #bokuto x reader #bokuto imagines #kuroo imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu masterlist #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima hcs #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima imagines

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goingmerryfics · 20 days

Note

Hello!! I recently found your blog and I love it!! ❤️

I was wondering if I could request something!

Kid, Mihawk and Law with a partner who’s into gothic clothing. uwu

Gothic style S/O w/ Kid, Mihawk & Law

Content: Gender Neutral reader, SFW!

Notes* Glad to have you! Thanks for the request :) Out of anyone, I think these three would be the most accepting/understanding of someone with this style and even indulge in it a bit themselves so I tried to make this a little more personal to each character. That being said, I feel like they turned out a little shorter than normal, but I hope you still enjoy it!

Kid

He wouldn’t even bat an eye if this was a regular thing to be dressed in gothic style. It’s pretty common around the crew, and even if it wasn’t, Kid appreciates the aesthetic of the style

He also just doesn’t give a shit what you wear as long as you can do your job

Looking good while doing it is also a plus

For that reason, he would help you out with your makeup for sure. Not that he has much experience with it in the first place, but he just likes any excuse to look at your lips

On the other hand, if your weren’t introduced to him in black and chains, he wouldn’t recognize you if you just up and changed your wardrobe

You walk out of your room in your new style, the one you’ve been wanting to try for years and never had the bravery to out of fear of judgement

But after joining the Kid Pirates, it didn’t feel so scary to go outside of the world’s expectations

“Who the fuck are you!? How’d you get on my ship!?”

After managing to convince him not to just throw you overboard, he does the unthinkable

“Oh. You look good. Better than that boring shit you used to wear.”

He compliments you

Kid will pick at your outfits and give unsolicited advice on how to coordinate or style your clothing

He isn’t one for making jewelry, but he might try if you can’t find anything that would match your clothes

Mihawk

No comment from him. You’d have to outright ask him what he thought, and even then it would be a short answer

“Yes, it’s a good look on you.”

He isn’t actually looking at you when he answers, but it’s genuine

You’d find him staring at you quite often, though

He enjoys the style on you, especially since his style is very close/similar to gothic

He respects your backbone for sticking to what makes you happy, and he’ll encourage you to stick up for yourself if anyone has anything to say about your look

Honestly, he’s seen people look and dress a lot worse, so he doesn’t see why anyone should be making unnecessary comments

Despite being a man of few words, he would still compliment your outfits every time

He, having a eye for the fashion, would also help you coordinate and mix up your clothing items and accessories to freshen up the looks

“That won’t do. We need to get you some earrings that will match this.”

It’s such a sweet way to spend the time that you two have together

Law

Law gets whiplash at first

His emo phase is coming back to him all at once and he’s cringing internally

But despite his own emotional setbacks, he is happy if you feel comfortable dressing this way

He’s very level-headed, so there’s not going to be a very big reaction out of him right away

His perception of you hasn’t changed, and it won’t anytime soon

“Express yourself however you like, just make sure you don’t alter the uniform too much.”

He’ll warn you that the crew might ask some dumbass questions or make rude comments

He also will ask you some questions, very carefully, not wanting to sound ignorant

He would come to your aid if you needed support, especially within his own crew

If you’re the type to wear a lot of make-up, he’ll be on your ass about cleaning your face every night

He’d even help you do a skin care routine to make sure you were taking care of yourself!

If you bother him enough, he’ll start to do it with you, too

Gets you stuff that remind him of you, things he believes may align with your style

All in all, he’s pretty indifferent to the style, and may even be open to dipping back into it a little bit

He looks great in eyeliner, but damn it he keeps smudging it

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and-claudia · 4 months

Text

Against All Odds pt. 8 (Joel Miller x fem! reader)

General Warnings for later on: The main story will have an age gap between Joel and the reader (Reader will be 25 once we get to the main storyline), this will also be your warning that it will eventually be an x pregnant reader (if that’s not your jam, I’m sorry) there is also going to be more graphic/trigger parts later on so please always to be sure to read the warnings BEFORE reading. This story will also be 18+ and TO BE ON THE TAGLIST YOU CAN NOT BE AN AGELESS BLOG (i do actually check that) also there first hand full of parts are all prologue so Joel won’t actually be in it for a bit

Warnings for this part: guns, killing, cannon violence

Word count: 3400+

Taglist Sign-Up (read my rules carefully before filling it out)

gif not mine

As the truck went through the window I instinctively reached my hand out to brace myself for the impact. Pain radiated from my wrist all the way up my arm and my head jerked forward as we hit something heavy enough to stop the momentum of the truck.

“Everyone okay?” Joel yelled.

“Yeah.” Ellied said, she didn’t sound like she was in pain, which was good.

“Sure.” I said through gritted teeth.

I knew I messed up my wrist somehow, I just wasn’t in a position to assess if it was a sprain, fracture, or just plain broken, and I definitely had whiplash in my neck.

“Ellie, you’re not hurt or nothin’?” Joel asked.

“No, I don’t think so, you and Yn okay?”

“I’m fine.” Joel confirmed.

“My wrist. Worry about it later though.”

No sooner did the words leave my mouth than the bullets started being fired at the truck. Instinctively we all ducked down.

“Belts off. Fast!” Joel yelled.

I did as he said, and opened my door that was opposite of the window we crashed through. Before I slid out though, I managed to grab the bag that was at my feet and take it with me. Ellie got out from the back seat and Joel slid out behind me. We all sat bunched up together, using the truck as a shield. After a moment or two, Joel carefully maneuvered to get the rifle out of the truck to have some form of defense against the ones shooting at us.

“Give us your shit, you make it through this! I promise!” I heard one of them yell, but I knew it was a trap. They would take our supplies and kill us.

"Joel... the hole she can fit through it." I said nodding towards a hole in the wall. He nodded.

“Ellie, you see it? When I say go, you crawl to that wall, you climb through and you don’t come out until one of us says, okay?” Joel said to her, I could tell she was scared.

“Ellie, they won’t hit you, okay? They won’t.” I tried to reassure her.

“Just stay down, stay quiet.” Joel added.

“Mhm.” The girl nodded but I could tell she was still scared.

“Ready?” Joel looked at me, and I got my gun ready, despite the shooting pain in my wrist and nodded.

“Go!” Joel yelled and we both stood up, him at the bed and me at the hood, and began firing back at them. Ellie began making her way to the hole.

I wanted to steal a look at her but couldn’t. I just continued shooting. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of Joel’s shots hit one of the men and he went down. I took that chance to duck back down behind the truck.

“You motherfucker!” The other man yelled, he pissed.

I made eye contact with Joel. There was debris further back that would offer bed coverage. He slightly communicated to me to go behind it. I nodded and stayed low as I moved to it. We stayed there silently, the only sound coming from the man as he got closer. Just as he rounded the corner, before he even got a chance to reach for his own trigger, Joel had already pulled his. I sighed in relief.

The calm only lasted for a second though because the next thing I knew, the back door to the building was swinging open and another man came in his weapon raised. He hadn’t seen me, only Joel. The two of them were now fighting up close and I couldn’t get a clear shot. Eventually, the man had Joel pinned to the ground. This was my shot I raised my gun and pulled the trigger. Nothing. Fuck. I was out of ammo. Joel was fighting against the rifle laying across his windpipe, legs kicking trying to force the man off of him. I tried to hurry to get the magazine out of my gun to reload it as fast as I could, but my hands were shaking. Then I heard a gun fire, causing me to jump. When I looked up from the gun, I saw Joel laying there breathing heavily, and the man dead beside him. I looked around for who had shot him and saw that Ellie had crawled back through and shot him.

Joel slowly got up and gave Ellie a look. She handed the gun to him and turned around to go back behind the wall. He put the safety on and turned to me.

“I’m sorry.” I shook my head and tried not to let the tears fall, “I- I thought I was counting how- how many rounds I had shot… I must have messed up… I thought there were two- two more.”

“It’s okay, it happens.” He tried to reassure me.

I shook my head, “If you die, I can’t get here there alone… I can’t do any of this alone, Joel… please.” The floodgates broke.

He was in front of me in an instant, wrapping me up in his arms.

“Sh, it’s okay, Yn. It’s okay… we gotta get out of site, okay.” I nodded weakly, “Come on.”

He led me over to the wall, “Ellie, look for another way in!”

“There’s a door but stuff is against it. I can try to move it.” She said.

Soon we were all in the small room together. We rebarricaded the door and took a few minutes to regroup and figure out what supplies we had left. Between our two bags, we each had some food, Joel’s light, a few extra pairs of clothes, and ammunition. My wrist was definitely sprained pretty good, but I would just deal with that later.

“Now what?” Ellie asked.

“We go up. Hopefully, we can spot a clear route out.” Joel said.

Joel led the way out of the building and down the alleyway behind it. We could hear cars driving down roads nearby, calling out for who I can only assume was one of the men we just killed. We made it to another building and slipped inside, unseen. We continued making our way from building to building, trying to get to the taller ones. It was slow moving but eventually, it became even slower. We had company. Men with armor on, carrying rifles, and handheld battering rams were going from door to door, looking for someone.

“They’re not FEDRA, and they’re not Fireflies, so who are they?” Ellie asked.

“People.” Joel replied from where he stood, peeking out between two pieces of paper covering the window.

“Are we going to be okay staying here, Joel?” I asked.

“For a bit, at least. Looks like they’re checkin’ out apartment buildings first… But they’ll eventually start going through these places too. Take a look, Yn, see that tall one, about four blocks down?” Joel asked, stepping away to allow me to look.

“Yeah, that where we’re heading?” I asked.

“Once we don’t hear a truck, we move.” He confirmed.

We all took a seat to wait for the coast to be clear and make our break for the building.

“You okay, Ellie?” I asked.

Shooting someone is traumatic, and I wanted to make sure she was okay.

“Yup. Wasn’t my first time.” She said. Her tone was short and she clearly not wanting to talk about it yet.

I nodded and let her be.

“Are you okay, let me see your wrist.” Joel said, holding his hand out for me to place my hand in.

I did and winced as my wrist touched his hand. He took a couple of seconds to examine it.

“Can you move it?”

I did the best I could which was hardly anything. But a little movement was good, it wasn’t broken and hopefully, the sprain wasn’t completely torn ligament bad.

“We gotta wrap it.” Joel said.

“It’s fine.” I insisted, but Joel gave me that look.

“You would make me do the same. Ellie, she was stuff to wrap injuries in her bag, hand it to me.” He said.

She did as he asked and soon my wrist was all wrapped up, preventing me from really using it.

“This means I can’t shoot…” I said.

“It’ll be okay.” Joel said, trying to get me not to worry.

“Would now be a bad time to ask if I can have the gun back?” Ellie asked.

Joel looked to me for my input. While she was still pretty young, with the proper knowledge it would be beneficial for her to have her own weapon just in case.

“I mean, in the long run, it’s better to show her now rather than later.” I said and Joel nodded, knowing what I was true.

He pulled the gun out and emptied the chamber, making sure nothing was left in it so it wouldn’t accidentally get shot out and either hurt someone or give our hiding spot away. Then he moved over to where Ellie was to show her how to use it properly. I moved to sit next to them to listen and give any input I could as well.

“Show me your grip.” He said, handing her the gun.

“Take your finger off the trigger.” I said.

We were both surprised that she actually had a pretty decent grip on the gun. There was definitely room for improvement but she at least didn’t have a limp grip on it.

“Now who taught you that?” Joel asked.

“FEDRA school.” “Figures.” Joel said shaking his head slightly.

Then he grabbed her other hand and brought it up to hold the gun as well, “Thumb over thumb, left and squeezes the right.” He explained as he guided her hands on where to go.

“You got a good grip on it now?” I asked, “You sure?” I asked again before reaching over and trying to jerk it out of her grip.

She held it just fine to which Joel and I nodded.

“That’s why you hold it with two hands and not one. Makes it harder for someone to rip it out of your hands.” Joel explained.

Joel collected the magazine off the floor and held his hand out for Ellie to give him the gun back. She did and he reloaded it for her before handing it back. She tested the new weight of it in her hands before nodding and going to put it in the back of her jeans.

“Uh-uh. You put it in your pack.” Joel said.

“Why? You and YN carry it like this.” She said.

“We’re adults. Plus, you’d probably shoot your damn ass off.” Joel said, causing me and Ellie to laugh a little.

“That can’t happen!” Ellie said.

“Oh, but it can. I knew a guy, shot his ass off.” I said causing both of them to look at me funny.

“Yup, when I lived in Alabama, after the breakout.” At this point Joel was looking at me funny, knowing I had never lived in Alabama.

“His name was Forest, Forest Gump. He was friends with brother…” I explained.

“Damn, that must suck! How did he take a shit?” Ellie asked, clearly believing the story.

“I mean, keep your gun back there, you’ll find out for yourself.” I said and that seemed to convince her to put it in her pack instead.

At this point, Joel had stood up and was checking outside.

“It’s clear. We need to move.” He said, already moving to the door to pull the barricades off of it.

Ellie and I both stood up and grabbed our stuff. We turned to Joel just before he opened the door. He hesitated and looked over at us.

“We’ll get through this.” He said and we both nodded.

We slipped out of the building and began making our way towards the taller ones. It was slow going. We constantly had to find cover from being spotted by anyone. The sun eventually began to set and we were finally at the taller ones. Which was great because I was getting tired of running from building to building. Joel hoisted Ellie up so she could break into the building through a vent and then let us in. We waited outside for her.

“Where would you be without me?” She said, triumphantly as she opened the door.

“By now, Wyoming.” Joel said.

“Probably still in Boston.” I said, teasingly as I walked in.

“Oh, yeah. Walked right into that one.” Ellie said, shutting the door behind us.

We looked around the area we were in. It looked like a garage for whatever building we were at. “Okay, let’s make our way up. Rest. Come morning, I’ll take a look, find us a way out of the city.” Joel said, leading the way now.

As we passed the doorway to the stairs Ellie and I both saw how many floors there were.

“We’re not really going up all 47 floors, right?” Ellie asked.

My feet hurt even just hearing that number.

“Forty-five, actually. Or as far as I can make it.” Joel said.

“What about as far as I can make it?” I asked.

“I’m older.” Joel shot back, teasing me.

“I’m pregnant-er.” I said as we began climbing the stairs.

“That’s not even a word.”

“But its true… I’m like what, 12… 13 weeks probably… I can’t remember honestly.” I said the last bit to myself.

“That sounds about right.” Joel said, shocking me a little. I had no idea he was keeping track of any of that.

The climb went silent, until about the 20th floor when I could hear all of us breathing a little harder.

“Hey,” Ellie’s voice finally broke the silence, “When that guy was hurt, how did you know it was an ambush?”

Joel stopped and leaned on the railing for support, “I’ve been on both sides,” he began, “It was a long time ago. We did what we needed to survive.”

“You and Yn?”

“No, not Yn. Before Boston.”

“So you and Tess?” She pressed.

“And the others we were with. Including my brother.” He said.

There were a few moments of silence before Ellie asked another question, “Did you kill innocent people?”

I already knew the answer. Joel avoided the question and just told us to come on as he began climbing again.

Finally, Joel decided we were high enough. My feet hurt. I could barely breathe. We got off the stairs and went into the halls to find a room.

“Holy shit.” Ellie said.

“Yeah.” I agreed.

“Thirty-Three floors. That’s good. That’s high enough.” Joel said.

“It better fucking be.” I said, leaning against the wall, trying to catch my breath.

Joel had taken a seat against the wall beside to do the same thing. He didn’t get to sit for long though because Ellie was already pushing for him to get back up.

“Come on, lazy ass.” She said causing me to laugh as she pulled him up to stand.

“Lazy ass,” Joel repeated under his breath with a grunt, “I’m lazy, I am fifty-six years old you piece of shit.” He said back making us both laugh.

We finally found somewhere to stay for the light. Joel busted through the glass on the door to get us in. Once we were in, Ellie and I found some cushions from the couches to use as mats to sleep on. Unlike last time, this time I decided to put mine and Joel's side my side.

“Y’all better not do anything gross. I’m literally 6 feet away.” Ellie said upon seeing the setup.

“Trust me, we won’t.” I said.

Before she could say anything else, Joel began making all sorts of noise with broken glass. I looked over and he was dumping it all on the ground by the door. Ellie called his name a few times to get his attention but it wasn’t working until she pretty much yelled his name.

“What?” he asked, confused as to why she just yelled.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“I don’t want someone sneakin’ up on us while we’re sleepin’.” He said.

Ellie nodded, “Ohh, I get it. Crunch, crunch, crunch.” She said as Joel walked over to the make shift mats, “Are you sure you’re gonna hear it?”

I had to stop myself from laughing.

“Of course, I’ll hear it. That’s the damn point.” He said, missing the old man joke completely.

“Okay,” Ellie held her hands up in surrender, “Well, good night, then. Oh, and I already told her but I’ll tell you, no nasty stuff better be going on over on your mats.” She said.

Joel looked over to where I was sitting and saw how I had put ours out. I couldn’t read his emotions in the darkness of the room and it made me panic that I may have stepped over the line. Joel ignored her and came over to me.

“If this isn’t okay and you’d rather sleep alone I can move mine away. I just wasn’t sure if-” I began to ramble.

“It’s fine. Promise.” He said, setting down his stuff beside his side, which also just happened to be the side he always slept on with me.

“Want some help with your boots?” He offered.

I was very capable of doing them, but nodded nonetheless. He slipped them off and I was appalled at how swollen they were already.

“Dude! That’s gross!” Ellie said, from where she was now lying on her side, watching us.

“Well, this is the shit that I am assuming happens when you are pregnant and climb over thirty flights of stairs. I will not be retesting this assumption though.” I said.

“Remind me to never have a kid. That looks painfull.” She said, before rolling back over.

“Do they hurt?” Joel asked softly.

I shook my head, “Not really, a little sore but tolerable.” I said, truthfully.

“What about your wrist? How is that doing?”

“It’s fine. We can look at it in the morning better.” I said before yawing.

Joel nodded and settled down on his side as I did the same. We all lay in silence for a bit before Joel’s voice broke through it.

“Hey, Ellie.” “Yea?”

“When we were talkin’ about hurtin’ people earlier, what did you mean it wasn’t your first time?” Joel asked cautiously.

I could hear Ellie shift around before she spoke, “I don’t wanna talk about it.” Jole turned his back to me to look over at her, “You don’t have to… I’m just sayin, it isn’t fair, at your age… having to deal with that.” He said, trying to comfort her in his own way.

“So, it gets easier when you’re older?” She asked, clearly trying to joke to brighten the mood that had settled around them.

“No, not really.” Joel said, shaking his head slightly.

“I asked about you hearing the glass earlier because I noticed you don’t hear too well on your right side. Is that from where you got shot?” Ellie asked, changing the subject.

“Probably more from shootin’,” He said, truthfully, “So if you wanna keep your hearing, stick to that knife.” He said before rolling back over.

There were a few more moments of silence and I thought they were both drifting to sleep like I was but of course, Ellie spoke up one last time.

“Hey Joel, did you know diarrhea is hereditary?” She asked, and I could already tell where this was going.

“What?” Joel asked confused by the random question.

“Yeah… it runs in your jeans.” She said.

I could feel Joel behind me, looking back at her over his shoulder. I was failing to contain my small laughter. Ellie also laughed some. Joel rolled back over, draping one of his arms over me as I continued to snicker a little.

“Jesus.” Joel said and I could hear the small smile in his tone.

“That is so damn stupid.” He said, trying not to laugh.

“You laughed, motherfucker.” Ellie said.

“I didn’t laugh.” “You’re trying not to!” I chimed in.

“Guess I’m losing it, then.” He said.

“Big time, dude.” Ellie said, still laughing.

Finally, Joel broke and all three of us were laughing. Once we all eventually calmed down, we said our goodnights and went to sleep.

I wasn’t sure how long I was asleep but at some point, my eyes snapped open to the sound of glass crunch under someone’s shoe.

taglist: (if you filled out a form and aren’t on this list that means either a) your blog is not coming up in the searches so I am unable to confirm that you are 18+, or b) you did not follow my rules for being tagged in this fic)

@sexyvixen7

@joelmillerslays

@elliaze

@little-lovely-darling

@swimmjacket

@watercolorskyy

@mserynlarsen

@sebby-staan

@beelanie

@fan-g0rl

@paige96

@pedropascalfanclub

@ameliadraws

@mavs101

@azerty29

@rileyferg

@belliedellie

@rhaenyrasgf

@imcreepininyourheartbabe

@nani-kenobi

@lunas-sstuff

@holb32

@reidsgubbler

@cleocat246

@novamidoriya

@katmae1997

@dizzywinterdaydream

@mrswidowjohansson

@abzidabzy

@givemeth

@morgaussy

@summerchicken

@kelh27

@ayamenimthiriel

@letmehavemyfictionalmen

@everything-isfucked

@emilyjustemily

@drewharrisonwriter

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@vodkawriter

@taz-97

@angel4astraea

@kodzuvk

@kittenlittle24

@nooneyouknow55

@hehehehannahthings

@keileighr

@shotgun-shelby

@joeldjarin

@catsareawesomek @harriedandharassed @keileighr

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller #joel the last of us #hbo the last of us #hbo tlou #the last of us hbo #the last of us #joel miller tlou

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fountainpenguin · 7 days

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People have been asking me for the link to Joel's Neck Kisses playlist since I off-handed mentioned it in some tags- it was something I'd seen someone else post about, but wasn't sure I'd find again.

I don't actually know how to use Spotify and wasn't going to bother looking for it because of that, but I decided to go searching today... Anyway, the whiplash is cracking me up:

Please tell me "Artist" is just what Spotify calls people who organize music in playlists, because if I'm about to find out that Joel wrote an actual song about Neck Kisses, I will simply be SO flummoxed.

Upon investigation, it looks like he's on here because he sang "Reel Love" in the Empires SMP Musical. Why did he come up when I searched neck kisses tho... Joel...

I did find it! Here it is: "Oh no, tumblr found my neck kisses playlist" - organized by joel.beanss

Etho in that one clip roleplaying that he was swooning as Joel got close to him, but he should "cover up his neck" before Joel kisses him, and then narrating that Joel's hand was "slowly reaching into his hair" while Joel just giggled and sputtered and yelled about how he doesn't kiss people's necks, you will always be famous to me.

I'm glad you're having fun being silly with your friends, nerds <3

Disclaimer: I have not listened to these songs and I assume some are not for all ages. I'm putting this in the tags for sharing and personal blog organizing purposes, but listen at your own discretion!

#Joel Smallishbeans #Boat Boys #EthosLab #traffic soulmates #trafficblr #Double Life #Empires SMP #mcyt #I had a whole comment above musing whether Joel's playlist is Etho-specific or just Decked Out 2 specific but. yknow what.#Hermitcraft #traffic life smp #Drawn by others #... I mean yeah his avatar was not drawn by me nor were these songs made by me so it's getting the tag

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sgiandubh · 7 months

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I want to ship SC, trust me I do and I love them together, but I just can’t fathom how far they stretch a fake relationship (her and T). Like for example the recent picture of them holding hands- now it’s not an insane gesture but definitely one we haven’t seen before. So maybe they truly are just a private couple. But in my heart of hearts I just love her and S together so much, and don’t know what to think because on one hand they are simply everything together and on the other it seems like she really is with T. I’m confused 🥲 what’s your take?

Dear Confused Anon,

I will be brutally honest: no, I do not trust you and I do not care about your crocodile tears. Not a single bit. In fact, once I will be done with my answer to you, you are most probably going to press CTRL+C, then CTRL +V. And run to the nearest Mordor sweatshop, in the hope one of the Three Sopranos will insult me again.

You see, to trust you, I would have to speak with at least a handle, not a coward in disguise. And then, even DMs are neither always safe, nor always honest - I have recently learned it the rough way, despite my best efforts, tried (and up until now failed) to forgive and will never forget.

By now, I suppose everyone got a good look at this splendiferous picture:

Take a long, quiet, hard look at it, Shire.

So organic it could kill a moth colony on the spot.

So heartfelt - she doesn't even look at him.

So sentimental - that icy smile of hers. A happy couple, indeed.

A general round of applause, all across the Nation.

You are very wrong: it is not the first time they are holding hands, I mean, sort of. The much touted London marathon pic immediately comes to mind - although you'd have to admit, I looked and looked and he seemed to be checking her pulse, rather than being lovey-dovey.

A real private couple would never stoop as low as a cheap, laborious retcon, in retaliation for a couple of thousand people speculating on a niche blogging platform.

It took four years, a month and four days after that Remarkable Week-end to see McSideburns clumsily try and claw her hand. Remarkable, indeed.

And are you trying to tell me the MC didn't shake your beliefs and this does?

This perfunctory, formulaic, scripted AF, blip?

Wow. I have no words, Anon.

That unkempt, bland person - for God's sake, mister, tuck that damn shirt in your pants! - looking like the elephant in the china shop at a carefully curated event celebrating the supreme form of French refinement?

This is insulting, to say the least. To her (and her prized image), to Chanel, to this fandom, to S and believe it or not, to himself, too. Granted, the Berluti shoes are showing some improvement and are now clean. Hmph.

So here is what I think, Anon (and I know people are going to shriek and guess what, I do not care, for once):

It's been at least one year this fandom has been asking for this specific pic and for this specific whiplash. A childish tantrum, as she is regularly throwing. Mind you, that doesn't even come close to the painfully slow, monumentally boring Flukenzie Floozy Saga and looks as staged as the Ochoa & S London sighting (ah, patterns!).

This is the reaction to our scriptwriting ineptitude.

This is also the reaction to some underground shenanigans, directly related to a birth certificate apparently being peddled around. I will not discuss this, yet know just that: this is a legal claptrap, right there. I can, and if needed I will prove it. With the cold, surgical precision Mordor is so afraid of.

But she is a mother, for Christ's sake!

A mother!

As I said, I am not a mother and never will be. I do not wish this trial on anyone. But if I know something about life, I can guarantee you a mother would do whatever it takes to protect her child(ren).

Including taking precisely this kind of sad and forgettable pic.

So, there's that. We choose and we choose now: we fall for it once more and let the playbook fiddle with our insecurities once more and post endless trails of old pics once more to soothe the searing indignation.... Or GROW THE FUCK UP and show to whom it may concern we're not buying this shit anymore.

I know what I'll do. You're on your own, Anon: my tough love took you only this far, down the road. Sorry for the length. It was needed.

For the moment, I just booked an appointment with Miss Fotoula (roughly Claire, hehe), my genius hairdresser. I will ask her to refresh my dirty blonde mane.

#anon

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0xeyedaisy · 4 months

Note

It's funny when people talk about your minecraft art. Cause I did come here for that, but I stayed for everything else. Cause I enjoy your blog and art so much Even tho I came for that, I get a little whiplash when it's mentioned again. Cause that's not what I think about when I think of this blog, LOL Keep on being amazing! Happy Holidays!

IIt's always fun to hear what ppl associate with me, for some I might still be that one Spring Bonnie artist! But I'm happy to know that you enjoy my art! Happy Holidays to you too!

#Monasks

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portaltothevoid · 5 months

Text

you’re losing me part x — ex!terzo x reader

ao3 link | warnings: angst, tears, mentions of bruises, emotional whiplash, self-translated italian, comfort?, fluff??, my beta reader almost shed actual tears reading this

word count: 7.4k

taglist: @beelzebzb @bitchywitchygardener @calitmediondell @copias-juicebox @copiasprincipessa @da-rulah @deetz-ghuleh @fishwithtitz @ghostfangirlsweden @ivycasket @justa19 @ladyrevealedofcloak @lurancyvenom @sodoswitchimage @water-ghoulette @zombiesnips-blog

a/n: divider by @gothdaddyissues! opted to switch the banner for a mood board this time around… i’m proud of this chapter and how it turned out, so hope you all enjoy the pain and suffering that is this story!

The Satanic Church's current mouthpiece hissed as the fresh ice pack made contact with the bridge of his nose. The coldness, which stung at first, soon became a relief, soothing his red hot bruises. No amount of skull paint could hide the apparent damage that served as a constant reminder of his most recent failure (as if he needed one). “Will that glamor also hide the pain?” Terzo groaned as he sunk back into his arm chair.

A light laugh came from the adjacent kitchen. “No, Papa, I’m afraid it won’t,” said the nurse grinding herbs with a mortar and pestle at the island counter. “Dare I ask what happened? Did someone’s significant other not understand what ‘tending to the flock’ can mean?”

He flipped off the nurse with his free hand. “Fuck off and, no. I just finally got what I deserved.”

The grinding of herbs stopped. “Don’t tell me it was–”

“Sì. She did this to me.”

“How?!”

“Questo non è importante,” he grumbled with a cavalier wave. “It seems I can’t keep my comments to myself. Maybe she is right about me not being able to keep promises…”

“What do you mean?” she asked, resuming her work.

“I tell her I want to– I’m going to change, but then I can never stop myself from saying shit that I know will piss her off.”

A tea kettle started to whistle. The nurse quickly took it off the stove, then poured the near boiling water into a mug. The clinking sound from her stirring filled the vacuum of silence. “The only way to stop yourself from that is to figure out why you keep twisting the knife,” she mused. “What’s the context of what you said?”

He let out a long breath. “I might have, eh… compared myself to her current lover…”

“So it’s jealousy. You’re hurting and so you want her to hurt too.”

“Gelosia… pfft,” he scoffed. “Certo (of course).”

Another silence settled over the room as the nurse finished up with the tincture she was making. After she poured the ground up herbs into a vial of oil and gave it a shake, she turned her attention back to the steeping tea. When the teabag was discarded, she made her way over to Terzo. “Here, you need to drink this. All of it,” she stressed. He grimaced at her, taking it from her hand, sipping it.

“Ugh, cos’è questa merda (what is this shit)?!”

“That shit is to help with the swelling and to make sure this tincture will work in Mexico,” she said as she sat on the couch adjacent to him. “Which you need to take right away in the morning, a few hours before the show, and then right before you go on stage. It’s the only way it’s going to work, because… Papa, with all due respect, you look rough.”

“I don’t want to keep hurting her. I don’t want her to hurt…” he added softly, his voice distant, as he kept cringing with every sip of the tea.

“So let her go.” He froze as he blinked at her, his expression blank. “Admit you don’t have control over the situation anymore, admit the part you’ve played in the situation, and let her go.”

“Let her go?” he repeated.

“Yes. Give her space. She needs it. You need it. If it’s meant to be, she’ll come back around, or you’ll eventually move on.”

He shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes slightly. “No. There’s no moving on from what we had.” He took another sip of the tea, his frown deepened dramatically.

“Well, tell me this, then. Do you want to change for the better for her or for yourself?”

“For her,” he replied almost instantly.

The nurse nodded slowly. “And let’s say she stays with the Cardinal. What good is that going to do you?” His brows furrowed as he pondered her question. “I can tell you now, it’s only gonna backfire on you in the end if that’s your reasoning. You have to want to do it for yourself, because you want to be a better person, period.”

He downed the last of the tea, slamming the cup down like he’d won a chugging contest. “Ugh. I say all of this, but I don’t think I could change if I even wanted to,” he laughed dryly. “I’m too bitter and too spiteful now.”

“Well, with that attitude, no, you certainly won’t change at all. Papa, it’s as easy as knowing you’re about to talk shit, and you choose to keep your mouth shut. I’ve known you long enough that you’re well aware of the times you’re straight up being an asshole.”

“For the love of Lucifer, can someone be gentle with me tonight?” he groaned rhetorically.

The nurse laughed. “You know that’s not my style. Sugarcoating anything just isn’t in my nature.”

“Definitely isn’t in your tea, either.” He couldn’t help cracking a small smile at that.

“Look, for what it’s worth, I can already see a difference in you tonight.” His only response was an inquisitive raise of his eyebrow. “I’ve been here for almost an hour and not once have you even so much as hit on me or flirted with me. You’ve kept your hands to yourself, haven’t made any innuendos, or even backhandedly ask me to sleep with you again. That alone shows me that one, you know you royally fucked up, two, you really are in love with her, and three, which is the most important, you have changed.”

He let her words sink in for a moment. You were the only thing he could think about. Choosing to ignore the fact it took an almost near death experience at your hands to finally get his priorities straight, he knew his nurse was right. If this was just a small step, it was still a step forward.

But he had to let you go. Even if he felt like he was nothing at all without you, if he truly loved you, he didn’t have a choice. The damage he caused, the trust he destroyed, the hurt he bestowed… all were things he couldn’t take back, things that changed you irrevocably. In this moment, he vowed to himself that he would no longer be the cause of your pain if he could avoid it. With all that being said, the aching from the hole in his chest was finally something he couldn’t ignore. This time, he didn’t want to. He wanted to feel this pain; he wanted to sit there in his hurt.

Eventually he pulled his forlorn gaze to meet the nurse’s. He thanked her wordlessly with a sad smile as he leaned forward to give her hand a gentle squeeze. Taking a deep, contemplative breath as he sat back into this chair again, he said regretfully, “It’s not going to matter in the end. I know she will never choose me.”

“You’re what?” you asked incredulously, eyes darting back and forth between the ostensible mother and son.

Copia leaned back against the wall, putting his weight on his hands as he leaned forward slightly. He felt like his legs would give out underneath him at any moment.

Sister Imperator breathed deeply both in preparation to defend herself and in trepidation. “I was a fool in love when I was younger. One of the first times I saw him perform, the way he eyed the girls in the crowd, kissed them…” Her lip curled into a brief snarl at the memory before she continued. “I might as well have meant nothing to him. I saw how he was with his other sons – he wasn’t. I was a fool in thinking I could change him– change Nihil.”

You waited a moment, staring at Copia, waiting for him to say something, say anything, but he just stood there like a deer in headlights. “This isn’t about Nihil’s absentee parenting, it’s about yours! We fucking know what a piece of shit Nihil is– was– ugh! Just because you kept an eye on him all these goddamn years doesn’t mean you didn’t fucking abandon him!” The heat was rising up in your body, your pulse quickened rapidly, as did your breathing. Clenching your fists tight enough to leave little half moon marks in your palm was all you could do to retain any semblance of calm.

“I did what I had to do to protect this Ministry!” she snapped.

“Oh,” you laughed sarcastically as you stood, shaking your head. “Sure, play the messiah card.” Sister Imperator’s eyes shone with a fury of her own. “Do you even know half of what he went through? Of what he goes through here?!”

“There will be a day when you have to make a sacrifice for the greater good of His flock. Mark my words, child,” she seethed as she stood up.

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t see how giving up your own child, letting others raise him, while you watch from afar the whole time benefited the flock,” you retorted as you walked right up to her.

“This whole institution would have crumbled under Nihil. If I didn’t do what I did, none of us would be standing where we are today and don’t you dare,” she seethed, leaning forward and pointing her finger at you, “think for a second that I’ve been content with any of this.”

The way her demeanor froze into an ice cold stare made your open mouth clamp shut. You squinted your eyes as your brow creased further in a mixture of shock and anger at a loss for words over this whole revelation. Your heart ached for Copia. You knew how important it is for him to have some alikeness to a familial connection, to feeling like he belonged somewhere, to something. And upon this realization, you could feel yourself twisting the knife in your own heart from what you had just confessed to him, from how deeply you knew you had hurt him; however, the time to dwell on that was nigh.

Even though Copia’s limbic system had been hit with a force akin to something of an eighteen wheeler, he couldn’t help one corner of his mouth from turning upwards just slightly. “They always wondered why I was your favorite, eheh,” he muttered.

Sister Imperator’s eyes went right to him as soon as she heard his voice and immediately, her face softened slightly.

“But why?” you asked breathlessly, almost seeming desperate for an answer.

“Because Nihil was reckless and negligent. If I stayed in the background, I would be able to puppet him and clean up his messes… I could grow and keep whatever semblance of power we gained as an institution. To ensure our success, I made a pact with King Belial – I had to see it through.” Her eyes grew distant for a brief moment, lost in her memories before she pushed them aside. “No one knows the severity of that pact. I’ve never divulged all of the details of it before – to anyone. That was all even before Nihil and I…” she inhaled a ragged breath, “before any ‘feelings’ became involved. I let those feelings come between me and the pact when I became pregnant and Nihil couldn’t turn down any attention given to him. I’d gotten so wrapped up and focused on that, I strayed from the mission I had originally set out on. I ignored King Belial and many of the other Infernals who were reaching out to me. So I had to pay the price. I had to make a choice – motherhood or growing our flock.” Her sigh that followed held the weight of decades of secrecy and regret.

“So I went to the Ministry in Rome, had Copia, left him in the care of the Sisters there, and came back fully prepared to right the wrongs Nihil made while I was absent. Had we gone public, had everyone known that Copia was my son with the influence I had even then, it would have changed the course of everything.” She pursed her lips as she took a moment to ponder her next words.

“Our Papa has always descended from the papa before him. Sometimes the mother was his Prime Mover, sometimes it was just a girl who got lucky…” She shrugged with a slight roll of her eyes to stress that luck was subjective. “Never before, that we are aware of, has a Papa had a child with the Imperator. This is the start of a new bloodline, possibly one even stronger than before. It would have made Copia the next in line to be Papa before even Primo and that alone… The upheaval that would have caused between all the Emerituses. I just– I couldn’t do that to him.” She shook her head like she was trying to wipe these thoughts from her mind. “Not to mention how the controversy from that could have caused so many delays with our advancement. There was still so much that needed to be done within our Church itself before revealing his true lineage could even happen. Many times I went into ceremony, evoking whomever I could to get advice or answers and every single time I was told to wait. My sacrifice of motherhood was for a reason and not just a consequence; it was for the future generations to come. And I never understood exactly what they meant, until now. Until you showed your mark of Lilith, proving that the Prophecy of the Trilogy will come to pass.”

Your mind was flooded with the memory of your first vision at the start of all of this. While you were still incredibly angry for the abandonment Copia had to endure, your face softened as your features fell to display the shock from your realization: you had spoken with King Belial himself. Now it made sense as to why Lucifer sent Belial in his place. This truly was your destiny.

The weight of your impending decision slammed against your chest causing you to intake a silent gasp. Words rang through your mind from that first vision: “The Emeritus clan is trying to take matters into their own hands… Each side is trying to control fate… Sole survivor… The pure Emeritus line must be–” No. This was too much. To have everything come crashing down on you like this, all at once, was suffocating.

And yet, you started to see the choice that Sister Imperator had spoken of having to make, choosing between two things she loved dearly. Unlike her, you had free will, yes, but the path that should be taken was becoming more and more obvious. You didn’t want to think of this right now. You couldn’t. You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of these thoughts that had overwhelmed you and tried to remember why you were angry in the first place.

Just one look at Copia righted the course of low simmering rage inside of you. “Aren’t you even the slightest bit pissed off?” you asked him. He blinked at you a couple of times before a scowl pulled at his features.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is my reaction not to your liking? Not all of us go, pew pew pew,” he made finger guns, moving his hands like they were firing off, “guns blazing and shit right away.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is I know you well enough that usually you make some kind of comment or at least those noises you make when you’re caught off guard or– or something!”

“Usually, but this isn’t a usual circumstance, now is it?” You opened your mouth to try and say something, but nothing came out. “Seems like we both don’t know each other as well as we thought we did, eh?”

“The woman who’s like the Wizard of Oz of the whole Satanic Church, granted with actual influence, has lied to you your whole life and kept this giant secret from you. She watched you grow up motherless, struggling, and did nothing. Don’t you think that’s a bit fucked up, no matter whatever reasoning she uses to justify it?”

“Ah, and you would know all about that, wouldn’t you, amore?” The term of endearment he used was anything but endearing as the word left his lips as fast as if it were spoiled milk.

“Excuse me?” you retorted in offense.

“You know all about keeping a giant secret and justifying it however you can to ease your own guilt. You didn’t tell me you fucked your ex. Was it really because you were afraid to hurt me or was it the fact you enjoyed it?” he spat. All at once, everything was catching up with him. He was angry, upset, hurt, betrayed… and the weight of it all was rushing towards him like stampede. His shock had tried to keep him safe, but his anger was winning, leading the charge. Sister Imperator he could understand, that was an old wound. The one you cut into him was fresh and demanded attention.

Sister Imperator awkwardly shuffled and cleared her throat. “I think it’s best if you two work out… what you can now…” she said with a commanding voice as she made her way to leave, stopping in front of Copia to place her hand on his arm. “If it’s alright with you, I’d love to talk about this with you further. Alone,” she emphasized her last word by glancing at you with squinted eyes. Without hesitation he gave her hand a little pat, nodding in agreement.

Your mouth hung open as you watched Sister Imperator stride to the door. She stopped just as her hand wrapped around the door knob. “The ghoul summoning ritual is happening tomorrow no matter what and can be quite taxing… Do try to get some rest.” she said ominously before she finally left.

“Those two things are not even fucking close to being comparable,” you argued as soon as the door latched shut.

“Maybe they’re not. Maybe because what you did to me was worse,” he stated simply, coldly. You were stunned. Even with how heated this conversation was getting, you were frozen in place. The only thing you could do was watch as he turned to go into the bedroom. Tears began to well up in your eyes again out of frustration, anger at yourself, how he so simply admitted how hurt he was, but mostly, because you didn’t realize until now how close you actually were to losing him.

“Tell me what you’re feeling. Please. Please don’t shut me out. Please, just talk to me,” you begged as you trotted behind him. Your voice shook from holding back the floodgates.

He stood still in the doorway, his back was to you, and you were just a couple paces behind him. “If you need to talk, I’m sure there is someone you can find who is more than willing.” Again, you stayed in place, unable to move. You didn’t have time to register the look on his face as he quickly turned and slammed the door in your face.

You couldn’t hear anything except the pounding in your chest. You had to get out of there. On autopilot, your quivering limbs carried you out, still having enough awareness to slam the door to announce your exit. Briskly, you walked. Your goal was to put as much distance between you and those tight living quarters as you could. Where you were going, there was no real destination in mind, but you’d figure it out once you got there.

The hour was late, leaving the halls of the Ministry devoid of the living. As you walked down the main hall, your gait slowed. The frenzied pace at which you started with had eased up considerably. Your guilt and shock trailed behind you like a ball and chain, weighing you down. Nonetheless, you trudged forward, still mulling over your choices of where you would end up.

During your previous relationship, you tried as hard as you could to hold onto the few meaningful friendships you had made. You hadn’t even been here a full year yet before the Satanic Pope became smitten with you. Your friends didn’t really know how to handle your rise in status even with it being as unofficial as it was. Of course, there were still a few who stood by your side, but then as your relationship declined, you grew more and more distant. If you showed up at their door would they even let you in? Especially now after who knows what they heard about you? The risk of rejection wasn’t one you were willing to gamble with. Not now. Not after everything that’s happened. How could they even begin to understand any of this? You couldn’t put them in that uncomfortable position.

And so your feet carried you forward, acting on muscle memory, until you stopped in front of the ornate mahogany door with the ouroboros knocker. Standing in front of it now, it felt vaguely reminiscent of home, even with having to knock. Once you did, you could hear a groan and “Per amore di tutte le cosa empie, làsseme pèrde (for the love of all things unholy, leave me alone)!” on the other side of the door. Again, you moved the ouroboros three times against the door. “Vattene (go away)!” One more time, knock, knock, knock.

The padding of irritated footsteps towards the door left you no time to second guess yourself enough to turn away before the door swung open. “I said go–” You just stood there in your disheveled state, looking up at him and biting your lip to keep the remorse at bay that was threatening to spill from your eyes. The words died in his throat when he saw it was you in front of him.

His hand gripped the door tightly. You could see his shoulders visibly tense. You could see the flash of fear in his eyes, before they became distant, avoidant. You could see how he tilted his head down, so his hair fell over his eyes in an attempt to shield them from you. It was the first time you were able to observe his appearance after what happened, after what you had done to him. Despite the dim light, you could see the swelling, the bruising. Again, muscle memory kicked in when you automatically reached your hand out to brush the hair away from his face. Your lip quivered. He stepped back the instant he noticed your hand move, his knuckles turning white as he tightened his grip on the door.

“I– I just wanted…” you started to speak, but you could feel every two ton brick that had been piled on your shoulders from the day crushing you. Tears slowly trickled down your cheeks as he continued to avoid looking at you. “I don’t know why I even came here,” you said, your voice as shaky as your body felt. Noticing the state of your voice and the trembling hands at your sides, he let his eyes fall upon you. “I shouldn’t have bothered you. I– I’ll g-go.”

He noticed how you bit your lip even harder in an attempt to stop the pent up tears from raining down your face. Just as you were about to turn to leave, you saw him step back, opening the door wider, and holding his hand out, inviting you inside.

“N-no. I should– I shouldn’t be–” you spluttered, stopping only when he held his hand up.

“Come in, cara.” The sadness and regret was radiating off you. Not only could he see it, he could feel it. You wouldn’t have just shown up here, like this, without a reason. The least he could do was humor you and hear your apology (at least he assumed that was the reason why you were standing in front of him now). And at this point, he’d take any time spent with you that he could get no matter the circumstance.

The two of you avoided each other’s eyes as you passed through the threshold. You couldn’t help wringing your hands as you awkwardly shuffled into the quarters you used to call home.

Behind you, you felt the ghost of a touch on the small of your back as if he decided at the last second he shouldn’t have touched you, but it was a millisecond too late. He cleared his throat, “Do… you, uh, want something to drink?”

“Okay,” you answered meekly as he made his way over to the kitchen, grabbing a wine glass for you to join his empty one already set on the island, which you currently stood at, staring down at your hands. It seems you had interrupted him pouring himself a fresh glass of wine. You watched as he inspected the unopened bottle he had left on the counter. He pursed his lips. His dual-toned eyes quickly glancing at you then back at the wine in his hand, debating something for a brief moment, before he ultimately put it back in the wine fridge, taking out a different bottle. Your observation skills were lacking at the moment, frayed from lingering unrest.

When he slid your glass over to you, after aerating it, you hastily brought it to your lips, doing your best not to just down the whole thing right then and there. Was drinking with Terzo right now the wisest choice? Probably not. You knew that. But one, maybe two, couldn’t do much more damage than what had already been done. Besides you were desperate for something, anything to take the edge off.

Truthfully, you didn’t expect to taste it once it hit your lips, but this was a taste you’d recognize anywhere. A few years ago, you weren’t really a wine drinker at all, but being with an Italian, you had ended up finding a favorite. This was a tart and fruity yet warm flavor you were quite familiar with. Your eyes widened as you realized he had switched whatever he originally planned on drinking for your favorite bottle of Amarone that he still had in the wine fridge – something that Copia’s apartment had lacked so you opted to forgo grabbing a bottle (or several) when you moved out. Was this his way of extending an olive branch? Or a sort of bribe to keep you at bay out of a newfound fear of you?

As the two of you set your glasses down, the veil of the awkward silence that surrounded you thickened. Not being able to take it anymore, you blurted out “I’m sorry,” while he said “Mi dispiace,” at the same exact time.

With a shy exchange of fleeting almost smiles, you spoke up before he had a chance. “I’m sorry. I–I can’t– I lose control when the other part of me… takes over.”

He shook his head, his bangs swaying from side to side slightly. “No. You have nothing to be sorry about. Not when you did that– you became that, because of me. If any of us should be sorry, it’s me.”

“No. No, this part of me… I was destined to become whatever it is that I am. That’s no excuse for–” You sighed and scrunched your eyes shut for a moment as you tried to formulate coherent sentences. “Ter, I tried to kill you. It doesn’t matter what triggered that. I…” your magnified shame shrunk your voice. “I almost killed you…” All your pain, your remorse, your guilt was pouring down your face when you forced yourself to look him in the eyes. There was no stopping it now. It was all you could do, even though you hated that you were the one standing there crying. Sucking in a staccatoed breath, you reached for the wine like a lifeline, hoping as you finished it off, it would be the life preserver to save you from drowning.

Terzo said nothing, but you could feel his gaze enveloping you like a fog. You were too lost in your own turmoil to notice how his mouth went slack, hanging open ever so slightly when you used what had become a now retired nickname for him that only you used; he couldn’t remember the last time you had called him ‘Ter.’ Only now, because of the pang in his chest, did he realize how much he did… how much he will miss it.

You, however, took his silence as fear, as proof everything you once had, once shared with him, was gone. Placing your glass down with a quavering hand, you could see the emotional pain he regarded you with. Using the back of your hand, you harshly wiped your tears away. “This was— Thanks for the wine. I— I’m just g-gonna go…” you sniffled as you turned towards the door.

Before you cleared the island, he grabbed your right arm. His grip was just firm enough to stop your momentum, but loose enough that you could leave his hand suspended in the air if exiting was what you truly wanted. “No, amore. I-it’s not your fault,” he uttered in a hushed tone around the lump in his throat.

“But—“ you started to speak, your words asphyxiated by the modest tightening of his fingers around your arm.

He shook his head, his glassy, tear laden eyes begging, screaming for you to stay. “It’s not your fault,” he repeated with more conviction. “It’s mine. Please, I just– I need you to know– Il mio cuore batte solo per te, amata mia. Ti prego, perdonami. Ti sto implorando, perdonami (My heart beats only for you, my beloved. Please, forgive me. I’m begging you, forgive me).”

Tears fell from your eyes like passengers jumping off a sinking ship. They blurred your vision as you finally were able to survey the damage you caused up close. You had heard the words Terzo just said to you. You knew the weight they carried, but looking closely at the marks left on him from your unadulterated rage overrode all of your other thoughts.

You took one step closer as you turned to stand in front of him. Raising your still slightly trembling hand to his face, your fingertips moved the hair away from his eyes so gingerly you barely felt it. His eyes closed as your hand trailed down, millimeters away from his face, not daring to make full contact with his skin.

The skull paint he wore daily was long gone, allowing you to see just how his face had swelled, the splattering of reds, purples, and blues that made up the bruises, and the way his lip had clotted where it had split. Floating its way down, your hand hesitantly landed on his collar bone. At first, you removed it, but when he remained still, you set your hand down again, your thumb scarcely caressing the contusions in the shapes of your fingers on his neck.

When he opened his eyes and his stare pierced yours, you let your sobs ripple through you. “I’m sorry. I’m s-so sorry,” you blubbered.

HIs hands found yours and held onto them assuredly. “Hey, hey, look at me… this is the least I deserve after what I’ve put you through, okay? This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault.”

You shook your head. “No. It never had– It never should have gotten this far,” you disagreed. “I could have stopped you. You’re not a monster. I know you aren’t. If I kept fighting, this wouldn’t–”

“The past is over, amore. We can’t–” he inhaled an unsteady breath. “We can’t go back. We can’t turn–”

“Please don’t start singing Cher,” you interrupted, your shoulders rising and falling as you laughed amidst the sadness.

Terzo gasped in mock offense, bringing your joined hands to his chest. “And all this time I thought you loved my sudden musical numbers.”

As quickly as the blanket of sadness was lifted, it draped itself over both of you again, this time, weighted. A heavy silence followed, sucking the nostalgic comradery out of the room like a vacuum. You softly disrupted the crushing silence, “I know we can’t go back, but that doesn’t mean I wish we could…”

The sorrow held in your eyes as you looked up at him chipped away at his already shattered heart. He held your hands tighter in his. Admittedly, he did regard himself as a monster, but your confession offered him a sense of solace at the fact that your harbored feelings weren’t hateful enough to regret him even being in your life.

“What caused… w-why did you come here tonight, tesoro?”

“I had to… He figured out I was in your office when… I told them everything. He knows.”

“I’m not… I can’t– Nothing’s gonna–” he shook his head, letting out a dejected sigh.

“I know,” you whispered reassuringly as you adjusted your hands so your fingers were laced in his. Gratitude and apologies shimmered in the depths of his dichromatic eyes. After you ran your thumb over his knuckles a few times, you gently pulled your hands back. “You know, if I had known all it took to get you to smarten up was almost killing you, I woulda tried that ages ago.” You kept a straight face until you made eye contact with him again and you both erupted into another fit of breathy laughter.

He placed his hands on the sides of your head, tilting it down so he could kiss the top of it. You snaked your arms around his waist, pulling him to you. Nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck, you breathed him in. A fear nestled itself in the very back of your mind that was unsure if you would ever be able to have a moment like this again. You could feel his cheek resting atop your head. A faint, content smile pulled at the corners of his lips. Before you could become too comfortable, and Satan forbid start enjoying the moment too much, you pulled away from the embrace.

“I need more wine,” you chuckled.

“Allow me,” he said as he went around to grab the bottle, pouring two more generous helpings. With a tilt of his head towards the couch, you followed him to the living room area, plopping yourself down on the couch, taking your glass of wine. This time, you savored it.

A few moments passed as you sat next to each other, your legs touching. You had spent so many nights like this after long days. Sometimes watching TV, sometimes listening to music. There was a serene comfort in doing something so nostalgic, so familiar. It was almost enough to start to sway your decision. Almost.

As if he could sense your thoughts, he broke the relaxed silence. “He’s the right choice for you, you know.”

“W-what?”

“Copia. He’s… He’s the one that should be by your side if you’re to… lead the flock to new, soaring heights.” Your only response was to furrow your brows, intrigued, timidly cautious of his statement. “Believe me, I still want you to selfishly pick me – I’d do anything for that – but…” the long breath he let out didn’t even come close to easing the pain he felt inside. “I’ve had my time as Papa. I might have gotten us to some new heights, but I fear my time is up. You need someone strong, dedicated and diligent. I just… What I’m trying to say is I understand the choice you have to make. I understand what’s at stake. I’m not going to interfere anymore. This is your life. Your decision. I’ll stand by you, no matter who you choose.”

“How– what– Where is this coming from?” He was not making your decision any easier, despite the logical choice being crystal clear.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Perhaps the lack of oxygen earlier restored some sense in here,” he answered, tapping his temple.

Playfully and lightheartedly, you rolled your eyes. “Too soon, Ter, too soon,” you chuckled. You stalled by finishing your wine, unsure of what to say next.

When you chewed on your lip, Terzo took initiative to change the subject. “Enough of the heavy, depressing shit, hm?” He tried to change the topic of conversation but came up short.

“Sister Imperator is Copia’s real mother,” you blurted out. Terzo almost choked on his wine. “You cannot act like you know. I’ll have to actually kill you for real if you say anything.”

“Now that was too soon,” he jovially winced, before going back to a shocked expression that faded the more he thought about it. “We always suspected as much. He has always been her favorite,” he shrugged.

“That’s the same thing he said!” you laughed until your expression turned sour. “That’s pretty much the only thing he said about it.”

“Ah, did you expect him to have a reaction?”

“Well, wouldn’t you if you found out your mother was right in front of your face your whole life!?” You turned to look at him and the expression on his face made you recoil. “I— Oh shit. I’m sorry I—“

“It’s alright. I know what you meant. Copia has always been… more reserved. He needs time to think about things. Wait, did he find this out after finding out about… us?”

“Um… maybe… and I might have— So, when I told him, um, what happened, I might have said how I… kind of liked it?”

“You did not.” Terzo laughed when he saw your guilty apologetic smile. “No. That’s not funny. It’s not funny.”

“Look, he knew something was up! There was no point in hiding it anymore. But I wasn’t gonna outright say it, I couldn’t. You know how I am. And I’ve been feeling so guilty, because, fine, okay, so what, it was hot! I mean, then I started rambling and said how it all led to the awakening and how I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t. I really didn’t but…” With a humorless laugh you threw your head back on the couch. “This is all so incredibly fucked up.” You paused for just a moment before you went back into your rant. “No, actually, you know what’s really fucked up? How he compared me hiding the fact we slept together to Sister Imperator hiding the fact that she’s his mother and somehow what I did was worse.”

“Ah, and you don’t see how the two compare.”

“No! You know what he went through growing up and she just sat back and watched.”

“But he’s never had a strong maternal figure. He does, however, have you. Sister Imperator has always been… a figure of authority. He loves you. There’s trust built there. He doesn’t care why you kept it a secret, it’s just the fact that you did. And I bet that whatever he said to you that made you want to leave, he regrets.”

You were positively stunned at the sage words from Terzo. It was nights like this when you first started seeing him that made you fall for him. You two would just be lounging, drinking wine, and then all of a sudden he would say something profound that would shift your perspective. As your mind spiraled into the pros and cons of Copia vs Terzo, you set your empty glass down next to the unfinished bottle of wine and grabbed it, taking a large swig from it. “Satanas, now I know why you’d drink so much,” you commented.

Terzo practically leapt forward to take the bottle out of your grasp, setting it back down on the coffee table. “And I think that’s enough of that.”

“You’re no fun,” you pouted.

“Just talk to him. Apologize. He’ll come around.”

“But I don’t want to go back there right now. I want to stay here. With you.” You punctuated your sentence by nestling into his side, throwing your arm around his waist.

He moved his arm to wrap around your shoulders. “You don’t have to. I don’t want you to leave, not yet.” In response, you just held him tighter.

You stayed like that long enough for your breathing to start to slow, almost drifting off into light sleep. “Hey…” he whispered, gently stirring you awake. “Let’s get some sleep, hm?”

You nodded as you got up and followed him to your formerly shared bed. Being wrapped in the violet satin sheets felt like visiting a past life, one that you didn’t realize just how much you had longed to return to. He draped his arm around your waist as you settled into your side of the bed. “Do you have to go to Mexico tomorrow?” you asked, almost shyly.

“You know I do, tersorino.” You could feel the subtle shake of his chest from his light laughter.

“Hmph, fine,” you grumbled. You rolled over so you could bury your face in his chest. If this was your last night of finding comfort in his arms, you were going to make the most of it. Hearing his steady heartbeat under your ear reminded you of the words he said to you earlier. “Ter?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“Hm?” he hummed in response as he dragged his fingertips gently over your forearm.

Shifting somewhat so you could look at him, even in the darkness, you placed your hand on his cheek. “I forgive you.” He took your hand that was on his cheek, removing it from his face. He placed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “I don’t know how I’ll– I can’t stay away from you,” you confessed.

“You’ll learn, amata mia.”

“But–”

“Shhh. I’m right here. Just sleep,” he reassured you as he ran his fingers through your hair. “You need to rest for the ritual tomorrow.” You nodded and snuggled back up to him again. “Ti amerò per sempre anche dopo il mio ultimo respiro (I will love you forever even after my last breath).”

Terzo could feel the adrenaline pumping through his body as he propelled himself forward. The only thing he could do was run. The thundering of hooves haunting him in the shadows. He couldn’t help but look over his shoulder to see just how close his assailant was. The shadows concealed the source of the pounding hooves. He could clearly hear them, he knew whatever was chasing him was close and gaining on him fast.

He could see a clearing up ahead. He didn’t know why, but he knew he just had to make it there. Branches and briars from the forest he ran through scraped and clawed his skin, but he had to keep going.

Somehow he made it to almost the middle of what appeared to be a meadow. He suddenly tripped, his hands catching his fall, but he scrambled to return upright, to keep running. Once on his feet again, he turned and looked. Slowly, emerging from the shadows of the forest was an unmistakable, pale, white horse with red glowing eyes. When he made eye contact with the creature, the one he had been desperately trying to escape, everything stilled.

He couldn’t focus on anything but those red eyes.

“You never want me to appear… yet here I am. Here I have always been.” While the horse’s mouth didn’t move, he knew the beast was speaking directly to him. He tried to scream, but no sound came out.

He turned to try and start running again, but as he did, he saw the horse now in front of him. It was charging at him, only this time, he could see the rider. The hood flew off the rider’s head to reveal a woman, her dress and cloak billowing behind her as the horse galloped full speed at him. He was frozen. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move.

Finally he recognized who the rider was. He would know her anywhere. Atop the horse was you. Your hand outstretched as you drew nearer… and nearer…

He tried to turn to run, or duck, or any kind of movement in an attempt to save himself, but he stood in place, glued to the ground beneath his feet.

When your outstretched hand clasped around his throat, Terzo jolted awake, gasping for air. He was panting, as if he really had been running, trying to save himself. He reached his arm out, trying to find your sleeping form next to him, seeking your warmth, your comfort. But all he felt beside him was his cold and empty bed.

part ix | part xi

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