#(also the nose kiss i'm weeping i love him)

[myblogforeverandalways]

Morning Sex with Simon ੭ৎ

Thank you so much for the reblogs on my last post! Also for my followers!! I'm forever grateful for you guys. love you all :)

Awakening to Ghost was a fantasy that seemed almost too real to be true.

Snuggling next to him under the crinkled white sheets, your body nestled by his firm arm, squeezing you softly. His gentle snores, a rhythmic lullaby as you threaded through his scalp, fingers brushing through his sandy blond hair, each strand feeling like silk against skin while you eyed him with pure devotion, pressing your lips to his forehead.

Nobody knew how Soft Simon could be with you. Only a few saw this tender side hiding behind his firm military exterior. Sighing contentedly, You started to slip your legs out of the bedding. Only to be met with a rough hand reeling you back as you squealed quietly.

"Simon-"

"Mh, no princess, we're not done here…" Ghost's croaky voice was thick with sleep as half his face rested in the plush pillows, half-lidded, looking into yours with desire and affection.

"Come here.." He smirked, his tone drowsy, but he couldn't get enough of you as you stumbled over the duvet to meet his yearning lips before breaking away suddenly.

"You know I have bad morning breath," you muttered, lips still puffy and lush from sleep. Morning breath was the furthest thing from Ghost's mind.

"I've smelt the worst scents you could ever imagine on 141…and you ain't one of them", he mumbled, pinching your chin with rough fingers with hints of affection.

"Oh yeah?" You teased, chuckling lightly as you delved back into the desired kiss, lips parted for your dear Simon Riley.

Fingers glided over scars that could tell a million stories as he lifted your delicate body onto his, letting the duvet envelop both bodies as he held you in an eager embrace over his chest, keeping you nice and snug under his admirable watch.

Ghost thrived in control. He hated feeling intimidated or under strict submission. But with those pleading eyes, those moist lips covered with his sleepy kisses, it was enough to make him feel secure. The world fell still when he was in your comforting presence.

"Fuck, do you know how bad I will miss you when I return to the task force?" Ghost murmured against your lips, his eyes weary, the hardened head of his cock pressing insistently against your backside, pleading for attention.

You only exhaled deeply, nuzzling the crook of his neck, stubble tickling your nose. The sultry aroma you let off intertwined with his musky, rich cologne drove you both off the hook.

"I know, honey, I know…" You purred, your satin nightdress playing a friction over Ghost, causing his breath to hitch.

You'd straddle him with languid grace, leaving heartfelt kisses down his neck. His hands would skim down your nightdress, palming your ass as he guided your undulating movements. Your molten kisses ignite trails of fire along his skin.

Your body was ethereal, leaving Ghost in awe like he was some desperate virgin. It amused you slightly, his heavy breaths giving shivers down your spine.

"Can you fill me up at least before you go?" You pleaded, the dimly lit room shadowing your figure.

All this only to make Ghost ache more as he teased a hand under your dress, fingers applying pressure up against that glistening cunt that would weep for his attention.

"Is that really a question, doll?" You can't help but moan softly, his thick fingers digging deeper.

Your voice was melodic to the man. He was already imagining how it would feel not to be able to fuck you in the comfort of their apartment. To not be inside your gummy walls that could clasp onto his fingers, pleading for him not to let go.

Ghost entangled his fingers in your hair as he fisted his cock with one hand. Instinctively, your body would arch in submission to Ghost's hardened dick, begging to be fed into your creamy cunt, opened wide just for him. Your shaky hands are gripping his t-shirt, holding onto your remaining self-control for him.

Ghost wanted to pound into you, milking every drop he had left in himself in the midst of not being able to gaze into those longing eyes for the next few weeks. You'd whimper. The unexpected stretch of him going inside you makes your eyes tear.

"I'm sorry.." Ghost apologizes, his voice hoarse, kissing your tears away as his thrusts grow forceful.

He grew less apologetic; however, that soft side of him was short-lived with sex. Bouncing you up and down his cock, balls deep, the air growing thick with your laboured breaths and cries of his name. Each pound sends shivering shocks to your pink cervix as your pussy pulsates, squeezing his hardened dick even more, precum lacing down your doughy thighs.

Ghost's thumb would greedily press on your clit, making you squirm in his potent grip. Murmuring sweet, dirty words into your ear, leaving you gagged of any reply. The dawning light would highlight your curves through the opened slit in the curtain. The quiet ruffles of the covers mixed with Ghosts grinding, making your thighs tense in ecstasy.

Pretty cum oozing out your swollen cunt as Ghost cast his fat load into you, left with a rough groan. His sloppy pumps into you make you whimper, his shirt becoming a lifeline. Exhaustion set you limp in his arms, soft pants tingling on Ghost's neck, making him smirk. Relishing the mark he left on you, a lingering reminder of his return.

"What's wrong, y/n? Did I make you go stupid?"

[celestialprincesse]

💕🩰

I'm sorry but I just know that Price has a breeding kink🥴

mdni 🎀 nsfw below the cut

Price has always, despite his situation, considered himself a family man, and with not only the added financial benefits of being boosted up to the SAS, but also the flexibility of being a captain, there's a yearning for something to come home to. So, when he finally marries someone that makes coming home more anticipatory than leaving in the first place, he can't help but finally feel fulfilled. Almost.

There's something missing though. Something that he can't help but yearn for. He's seen the way his fellow soldiers look at their partners with babies slung on their hips or bellies swollen with pregnancy, and he can't help but feel so selfishly jealous. He knows he shouldn't, knows that he should feel grateful for all of the goodness that she's bought into his life, that he's got the privilege of coming home alive, let alone alive, and to a beautiful woman willing to sink down on her knees for him and worship his cock like he's more god than mere man. Despite this, he wants more, and always finds himself feeling like Icarus inching that much closer to the sun with every good thing he gets.

"I want a baby." He growls into your ear whilst his cock is buried to the hilt inside your slick cunt, fingers interlocked and his baby blues burning vehemently into your own. He's long stilled his thrusts to capture your attention, and by the way your tits bob slightly with the movement of a deep inhale pulled in and held, followed by a little ragged puff of air back into his face, he can tell that you're listening. "You want a baby?" The waver in your voice doesn't go unnoticed by either of you, the almost imperceptible squeeze of your fingers around Johns igniting a spark of hope in his long thawed heart. "I want a baby. With you."

"Now?"

"Now."

"What about your work?"

"I've already sorted it."

John sees the way your brain short circuits at not only his words, but also the encouragingly slow snap of his hips as he thrusts up against your cervix, the hair of his chest brushing against your already sensitive nipples as he keeps at his languorous pace, waiting for you to give him an answer before he stuffs you full of his cum and doesn't let you get up through fear of potentially wasting even a drop of his seed.

"Please, darling. Fuck." He grunts as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes glossed over as you zone out, imagining a future with you and the man you love, and your children - child, even - maybe a dog for good measure. "You're sure you're ready?" You whisper, feeling the distinct prickling of tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. "S' all I want."

"Okay."

And with that, John's warm hand settles at the back of your neck, fingers curling into the roots of your hair whilst his free arm supports his position over you. Every time the weeping tip of his cock slams up into the plug of your womb and leaves your eyes rolling shut, he yanks gently on your hair, just enough to jerk your head back to look at his almost animal expression, growling about how he wants to look his wife in the eye when he fucks her full of his kids. He's entirely merciless as he spears you open on his cock, hitting the spot that makes your walls flutter desperately around him with every thrust, huffing in your ear when you drag your nails down his back at the mention of how fucking sexy you'll look all soft and swollen with his baby. You both know he won't be stopping at one.

You cum almost shamefully around his cock when he grabs a handful of the plush flesh of your boobs, dropping kisses down the column of your neck until his nose rests against your collarbone, keening out from both the physical and mental overstimulation. John rides you through it, leaving his tip brushing against your cervix as he finishes himself, before rolling you over with his cock still plugged inside, not wasting any of his cum as you lay there panting on his chest whilst his lips press to the top of your head before whispering in your ear:

"So I was thinking green for the nursery?"

ʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞ

quick lil something because I literally have no ideas of what to write oops 🤭

[cannniballcutie]

könig just wants a little wife... 💋

hey guys! totally having brain rot about trying to hook up with and finally lose your virginity to könig, but he just totally doesn't understand the concept of something casual...

totally inspired by this post u guys its toooo good... go read it rn @gremlingottoosilly is literally a mastermind 🌝🔪. but!! this is also based off of an experience i had with a guy that i met recently so let me know if you want to hear that story as well cuties :p

cw: sketchy situations, fem!bodied reader, virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, very slight m!receiving oral, dom/sub dynamics, cnc/dubcon, i'm rereading this like, damn this bitch rlly put herself in this situation... AND she wants to do it again 🤭

before he picked you up outside of your apartment complex, könig was just some man that you'd met online, and decided to meet up with irl because of his sweet personality! he was so much kinder than the other pervy guys on those websites, and he complemented you frequently, although he would regularly ask for a photo of your hips in different positions, and that he'd asked you to facetime while you sucked on a strawberry lollipop, not letting you end the video call until you finished licking at the last bits of sugar left on the stick, your lips red from the sweet dye. he even had you eat before taking you to a hotel of his choice, making sure that you'd hydrated and were soft from the warm food he had recommended, although he ensured that you didn't feel too full :( he wanted to make sure that you saved room for him in your sweet, soft body. when you arrived at the hotel room he immediately went about setting up every detail, turning on the tv to a true crime documentary, claiming it was relaxing, before making sure that you were comfy by giving you every pillow in the entire room and essentially making you a nest. he chuckled and muttered about, how much he 'wished you were snuggled up like this in his bed every night,' before climbing over the pillow walls behind you and forcing you into a little spoon position!! he loved the domesticity of the situation, you in your comfy clothes while he had you presses against his chest. könig has you wrapped up in his arms soooo tight omg. like his bicep is all the way around your mouth as you struggle to breathe with the combined pressure of his arm around your torso, absentmindedly groping your tits.. he just felt soo strong so of course you bit into his bicep.. hard. his hand immediately shot up your big hoodie as he groped you, pinching your nipples between his rough fingers. you whimpered when you felt his hard cock against your bottom, and you squirmed at the sudden feeling. he began inhaling your hair and neck, his nose poking into the pace behind your ear. he turned you over and cradled your back while he pulled your sweater over your head. könig remained fully clothed in his sweatpants and loose black shirt, making him feel even bigger when he pulled you onto his lap and started biting your breasts and sucking as though he expected your sensitive tits to produce something for him. you began to whimper loudly into his neck until he brought his hand up to cover your mouth as he let you bite and suck on his fingers, absentmindedly squishing your cheeks with the fingers that you weren't greedily sucking on, his mind focused on biting and groping your sensitive nipples.

he suddenly removes his hand before reaching down with it to take off your panties and rub your naked folds while you straddled his lap and try to focus on kissing him while his other arm reaches around your back and he slaps your ass too hard!! making you fall forwards and onto his lap :( 

könig starts fingering you hard enough for you to be seeing stars and weeping into his mouth until he decided you were stretched out enough for him and he made you crawl down to his dick and roll a condom over his hard cock with your mouth, and his skillful fingers directing you while he groaned softly at your timid licks to his covered tip.

he roughly pulls you back up to his level, before turning you and laying you down with your back in your mountain of pillows while he began teasing your pussy with his tip while you cried, embarrassed and trying to close your shaking legs. he kept them open with his thick thighs before he started easing himself into your tight entrance. but he was sooo big and you couldn't handle him for long before you started crying in earnest while he began pistoning into you at a breakneck speed. he didn't stop, and you felt your hips bucking up into his cock as he drills you further into the bed with his hand over your mouth to muffle your moans and sobs of overstimulation. he thrust into you harder, focusing on the prominent bulge in your tummy from his cock, your legs shaking and chest heaving as he kept grunting about how hard it was for him to bottom out and how you were too tight.. and how he didn't want you to stop moving your hips into his, "like the little minx that you are," then his hand moved over your stomach while he kept moving until you came while he bullied his cock into your stretched cunt. after he finished inside his condom and pulled you into a sitting position, making you look at the bloody sheets that were underneath the space where your bodies were still connected. he whispered about how you had been such a good girl you were for him, and that your pussy had been especially good to him, staining him with your blood so you both knew you belonged to him. you felt embarrassed and hid your face in his neck so he couldn't see your tear-stained face. every part of you felt so messy when he carried you to the other bed and moved every pillow from the used bed into the clean one, making you put your sticky panties back on, along with an oversized zip-up hoodie that he produced from his backpack.

he went to the bathroom before coming back to cuddle with you where you were curled up on the side of the bed. he made you kiss him before he pushed you back onto your side and secured you against his chest, holding you as tightly as he could while you whined about how sore your pussy felt. he massaged your tummy where his cock had been just 15 minutes before :( pressing down before he pulled up the blankets over the both of you, keeping his arm over the blanket to really muffle your whimpers while he gently fondled your bare breasts under his hoodie, whispering promises to you that this wouldn't be the last time he had you all to himself, sighing into your hair about how he, 'couldn't wait to make you a mütterchen to his babies,' fantasizing about 'making you live with him so he could take your cute pussy raw and make you his doting housewife.' 😖

i love you all and the overwhelming love on my last post was swooo encouraging!! thank u guys :p

[sturnioloszn]

NEW LIFE - M.S

summary; matt gets to finally meet his baby, but he's terrified of doing something wrong.

warnings; absolutely none.

a/n; for some reason, i get inspired to write at 2am?? also, the baby fever is real, so here's a fic w newborn dad matt. i feel like he'd be the biggest girl dad ever.

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

"I can't do this," I weep, tears streaming down my face.

"Yes, you can y/n, one last push," the midwife in front of me says. I've been in labour for five excruciating hours. I'm in unbearable pain, and I really don't think I can do it.

"C'mon baby, I believe in you," Matt speaks from next to me. I squeeze his hand as hard as I possibly can, trying to relieve the pain I'm currently experiencing. I heard him trying to stiffle a groan, probably from his hand almost losing circulation.

I scream at the top of my lungs, the noise echoing off the walls, and I give one final push. Suddenly, a high-pitched cry erupted in the room. I look between me and I see her. My baby. Even though she was covered in blood, she was the most beautiful thing ever.

"Good job, you did it. You have a healthy baby girl," the woman in front of me congratulated.

I turn to Matt and see he's already looking at me with a warm smile on his lips, "You did it, my love, I'm so proud of you,". He leans over and places a gentle kiss on my sweaty forehead.

I return a lazy smile, "Thank you," I whisper, trying to catch my breath.

A few moments later, the nurse returns with my baby, who's is now wrapped in a pink blanket, and carefully hands her to me.

"Hey, baby girl," I say, bringing her close to my chest. I look down to admire her soft features. I may be a little biased, but she was the cutest baby I had ever seen. She had a cute little nose, soft lips, and rosy cheeks, I couldn't help but smile.

I couldn't believe she was really here. Emotions began to overwhelm me, and I felt tears welcome my eyes once again. This time, however, they were tears of joy.

"I think you should take her," I say, turning to look at Matt, who is staring at her just as intently as I was.

"Oh, uhm, I don't think... I can," he says. I can tell he's nervous about holding her but this was his baby too.

"It's okay, Matt, you won't hurt her," I reassure him, and he looks over to the nurse who is still in the room. The nurse takes her from me and guides Matt on how to position his hands so that he can hold her too. The nurse then lowers the baby into his arms.

"Oh my god, hi baby," He whispers, cradling her head into his palm. "She's tiny," he whispers once again, now looking up at me.

Oh god. Seeing Matt holding her makes me want to have another one all over again already. He looks back down to admire her the same way I just was. There's a soft smile on his lips, he's in absolute awe of her.

The midwife came back over and suggested I should feed her. Otherwise, she may begin to cry again. Matt handed her back over to me, and the midwife instructed me on how to breastfeed her. Matt watched attentively, he went on a small rant about how lucky and thankful he was for me and our new baby.

This was the beginning of something completely new, and of course, I was terrified but equally excited. I can't believe I have a baby with the man of my dreams, and we get to raise her and love her. I take deep breaths and absorb this moment, wishing I could crystalise it in my memories forever.

My daydreams are cut short when someone's bursts through the door.

"WHERE IS MY NIECE?!" Nick exclaims, breaking into the room.

"Shh," Matt whisper-shouts at him, causing Nick to slap a hand over his mouth.

"Shit, sorry," He says in a much quieter tone. Chris also enters the room now, moving to stand next to Nick.

"I'm gonna be the best uncle ever, screw you, Chris," he says, looking to Chris, to which he just replies with a middle finger.

This baby is already so loved, and I'm so excited to see what the future holds for me, Matt and our baby.

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

a/n; ....this is lowk the shittiest thing ever written in the history of writing, but oh well. tbh, this was planned out better in my head. i'm actually debating posting this, but it is what it is lmaoo. anyway, thanks for reading this piece of shit, love uuu. 💙

[mockerycrow]

okay now can we get the tongue piercing thing with the other 141 boys (sorry I'm so fucking demanding all the time lmao remember you don't have to write if you don't feel like it, take breaks whenever you need, queen WE LOVE YOU)

-🦝

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

note for anyone new; i already did gaz!! i did not forget my bf, don’t worry <3 and it’s ok!! i take breaks when needed i promise!! also, this is intended to be male!reader.

Price wouldn’t notice for a little bit at first—if it’s new, he notices your weird talking, but if it’s old? He isn’t sure how he missed it. You show him the piercing when you go down on him the first time, pressing the piercing against the slit of his pink tip, earning a gasp from him. “What—what is that??” You chuckle and keep eye contact as you swirl your tongue around the head of his weeping cock, his eyes widening when he sees the piercing. “Fuuuck.” He groans, his head whipping back. Price tilts his hips up, silently begging for you to swirl your tongue again.

Soap notices when you’re making out—this man is messy when he kisses you, so your hand is in his hair, tugging his head closer as you press your tongue into his mouth, causing Soap to groan. He tilts his head and relaxes his jaw, allowing you to do whatever you want. He loves the way you overtake his senses and—wait, what is that? Soap pulls away with a quiet gasp, spit connecting your lips, and the string snaps and lands against his chin. “Somethin’..” He pants. His thumb prods at your lower lip wordlessly, eyes widening when your tongue pokes out. He stares for a moment before grinning, pressing a harsh kiss, murmuring something along the lines, “I wanna cum on ya tongue, make yer piercing all pretty.”

Ghost already knew you had one. He didn’t think much of it at first, not until you begged him to try something new with you. He begrudgingly agreed and you didn’t give him many details because you wanted it to be a surprise. That’s how he found himself in a chair with you in his lap, his mask rolled up to the bridge of his nose, grunting out a gaspy “fuck!” when you press your tongue against his neck—decked out with a vibrating piercing. It’s not that strong against genitals, but Ghost is just so sensitive around his neck, he finds himself grabbing onto you and bucking his hips when you drag your tongue to his pulse.

[softersinned-arc]

She's a rational woman. She has a good hold over her emotions, even if that control was borne of necessity more so than health. She's rarely carried away, and she knows better than to rely on someone else, to turn much of herself over to another person, to let herself be vulnerable, to let anyone know that she has weaknesses at all, let alone to tell them where they are. Astoria Grim is a clever girl, and used to being four steps ahead of anyone else. She is competent. She is unshakable. She can withstand anything.

Until the moment he kisses her, at which point all rational thought and clever strategy flies from her mind to make room for the sudden and consuming awareness of his lips on hers, all urgency and need. The world around her doesn't behave as it should: the earth doesn't open up beneath them, there are no angelic choirs descending, there are no fireworks lighting up the sky. But there should be. Reality should be reshaping itself. All at once she knows, with startling clarity, that she doesn't have to be alone anymore, not if she doesn't want to be. And god, she doesn't want to be, not when he's the alternative.

And how terrifying, how wonderful, it is to hand someone all the breakable parts of her and know they'll be kept whole.

She lifts one hand, brings it to rest delicately against his chest, and the thrum of his heartbeat and the rush of his blood hums against the magic in her skin, a birdsong in the morning's first blush of light. "Hold on," she murmurs, "I just want to see something—" and she closes the distance between them, small as it is, to bring her lips to his again. The kiss is slow, easy, almost chaste, like they have all the time in the world to perfect it, like she could spend hour after hour learning exactly what makes his blood sing under her hand. She's reluctant to break away from him, and when she does, it's brief; she has only a fraction of his self control, and now that she's started, it's much harder to stop. Their second kiss becomes their third, and her gentleness becomes hunger, and when she pulls back and speaks her voice is hoarse.

"Wow." The word comes out before she can stop it, and she can't even pretend to be self-conscious about it. She sweeps her thumb back and forth across the fabric of his shirt, and she lets out a quiet, contented sigh. "Somehow, that was—better than I had imagined. And I imagined it would be really good." There's no eloquence or poetry left to her; fluent in four languages, and all of them fail to produce the right words for this.

"You should probably prepare to be I-told-you-so'd," she warns, and she brings her free hand to curl gently against the side of his neck. "Unless you're opposed to it, I think I'm planning on sticking around." Terrifying, isn't it? "Seems likely he'll find out."

Were she less distracted, it might grab her attention, that he calls himself very old, or make her wonder, that he doesn't question the reference to her godparents' disappearance even though she doubts he hasn't figured it out by now. "Whatever it is, I like it. I mean, shit, I have no idea what I'm doing either. It's been years of just something fun or something casual. I don't do this anymore. I haven't wanted to in a long time, not like I do now, so if this is us figuring it out as we go along, I feel good about it. You have this—this gravity to you, this incredible gravity. It's easy to care. I think we'll remember the rest as we need it."

Under other circumstances, she'd be hesitant to say this, just in case she's read it wrong. But he hardly strikes her as the kind of man to get invested in someone carelessly, not when the wrong investment could potentially kill him. (Besides, it's a lot of effort to string her along. If all he wants is to get her into bed, it's hardly like she's making him work for it.) She opens her mouth to launch into one of her nervous rambles—something about how little patience she has for unnecessary rules in everything from when and how often to text to what information she actually needs to know—but there's no anxious energy bubbling in her chest, no unease pricking at the arches of her feet or the palms of her hands.

Three days, and it feels oddly inevitable, as though this is exactly where they would have landed under any circumstances, with any beginning. Astoria moves her hand, gently drags her fingernails back and forth along the line of his jaw. "Just you is good," she says softly. "I like that. I'll take you exactly as you are, complications and secrets and all. And we'll see where it takes us." She pauses, then, presses a quick kiss to his cheek. "And thank you. For not getting patronizing or pitying me or anything like that. That would have been hell."

Astoria's fingers drum an idle rhythm against his chest, and she thinks she might sleep well for a change, if this is to be her company. For the first time since she took this job, the book is entirely absent from her mind; how can she think about much of anything else now? "What do you need?" The question surprises her even as she asks it; she's never known what to do with a selfless urge, rare as they are for her, but she means it. "It's pretty clear you've lost a lot. I won't ask for details. Tell me what you want, when you want. And with all the guilt and responsibility you carry—what makes it easier? What do you need?"

     arthur couldn’t help but scoff at the statement he’s good for leadership.  his head shakes and his free hand waves away the idea.  now she was just starting to sound like lancelot.  astoria managed to embody both his lovers in a single conversation.  now, that was impressive.  next she was going to sound like myrddin and it would be all his history and all his desires wrapped up into one convenient package.  or, maybe she’d sound practical like uther.  could she manage to capture his mother’s wisdom?  not even he had achieved that and he’s been alive exponentially longer than the former queen.

     reaching out is automatic.  not once when astoria was determined to breach his small personal bubble had be minded.  the plane had confused him, sure, but he’d accepted it like it had always been a part of life.  trusting him that much in their line of work was amazing and arthur did think there was a level of trust involved in not only falling asleep next to a total stranger but in trusting him with her body.

     it was nice.  two people being together with an obvious infatuation to one another both comfortable speaking or not.  comfortable being close or not.  he’d gone to gather his weapons and astoria hadn’t even blinked or showed an ounce of concern that he could turn those on her.  sure, she had the distance advantage with the magic boiling and freezing but there was no fear it would come to that.  in less than three days two people steeped in violence managed to find comfort and trust in one another.  when was the last time he’d experienced such a thing?  this was an intimacy far beyond the physical in his mind.  he hadn’t even gotten to this point with his last relationship.  the times had been different but, still.  arthur had only wanted to protect michel.  sharing this violent world with him hadn’t even been a shadow of a thought.  the immortal had tried to run from it and wedge himself into some ideal of perfection, perhaps even trying a little too hard to chase something he didn’t know how to even be anymore.

     as astoria snuggled in close arthur’s arm moved out to make room for her legs.  once she seemed settled his hand landed on her calf, idly rubbing and squeezing to the lilt in her voice.  she’d never explicitly said this wasn’t the norm and the talk of sex certainly made him wonder, but arthur couldn’t stop his mind from lingering on the intimacy; trusting someone else with pieces of you that hadn’t seen the light of day in years or decades. ��

     “ maybe not, “ arthur’s free arm moves up until his hand rested on his chest, fingers tapping a little pattern as he thought about myrddin yet again.  the knights of the round mostly reflected the way he thought.  each of those men wanted to save as many lives as possible.  even now arthur wonders if it was because they’d lost so much family to the pushing roman empire.  what they knew was being pushed farther and father north.  the ones who couldn’t adapt slaughtered in the streets and tintagel was nothing if not an incredibly proud kingdom.

     pelleas had been as ruthless and practical as myrddin but his words were meant to protect nimue and the last of the druids found in the area. otherwise, the knight tended to be silent.  when he spoke, though, arthur’s skin would crawl.

     “ but it’s also the main reason why i tend to be alone.  don’t get me wrong, you captured the way it feels very, very beautifully before.  you know it.  you get every reason why.  there’s also this additional element of being very fucking tired of being that kind of responsible for others.  even when i’m with the guard and i’m not the leader, someone else is, i feel like i take on a responsibility to fill those shoes no matter what happens.  someone else’s decisions are still my loss if something happens.  there’s also the detail that two of them are madly in love with each other and it’s distracting. “  distracting in this way that he misses what they have.  that watching them have eternity with one another emphasizes the hole both guinevere and lancelot left behind.  it reminds him that filling that whole means opening up himself in ways he’s no longer willing to do because one more loss of that magnitude will absolutely break him.  “ there’s also the practical standpoint that just me can cover my tracks a lot easier than five of us in most cases. “

     the immortal shrugs.  little did he realize the mention of family would dig up those kinds of memories.  with each word arthur pushes himself up.  higher and higher until his legs are not quite so bent and he’s looking down at astoria with a new kind of respect.  he also sees morgawse in that story, differently while also being the same.  the betrayal is there.  that kind of betrayal that can only come from blood.  what astoria experienced was down right torture.  for what?  power just like morgawse wanted.  only, his sister tried to do it dirty and fast.  these people experimented on astoria and he finds his jaw clenching with a silent rage that screams of murder.  they were dead.  she’d mentioned it multiple times and arthur needed to replay those words just  to remind himself.  too bad they weren’t immortal because he would absolutely send those types of people back to the grave until their final death came at his hands.

     his nose flares, distracting him from the implications of that string of thoughts.  astoria was under his skin much deeper than he’d originally thought.  he’d already burn the world down just to keep her safe; without a second thought.

    the way he leans in to cup her cheek is much more gentle than the set of his jaw would imply,  she didn’t need pity.  arthur didn’t even want to give it to her.

     “ never apologize for surviving, birdy, “ he gives her a little nod.  as he licks over his bottom lip the air is held in his lungs in an attempt to calm himself back down.  reminders of their passing slowly, but surely, released the tension between his shoulders.  arthur wanted to say she could always call on him if anyone ever tried that shit again but he wasn’t sure she wanted a white knight, either.  he didn’t want her to interpret it as him thinking she couldn’t protect herself when it was really arthur being himself.  no one hurt anything under the umbrella.  no one.

     without thinking about the consequences, arthur leans in.  his kiss is rough and a little desperate, like he’s waited for a lifetime and only has one chance to enjoy it.  

     when he pulls back he has to fight to not lean straight back in.   more than anything arthur wants to lose himself in the moment; lose himself in the pain and in letting himself heal.  but he bites down on his bottom lip and pushes some of the glowing strands of hair behind her ear.  doesn’t matter how or why her godparents ‘ disappeared. ‘  the point was they were no longer around to bother her.  in all of arthur’s long years he’d come to understand that some people simply deserved to die.  no amount of repentance or second chances would change their ways.  he’d seen evil and he’d put it down with his own bare hands.  no remorse.

     the remorse comes in a different shade.  his eyebrows pinch together with his thumb lightly tracing over her cheekbone and right there, on the tip of his tongue, he wants to say it.  i can’t die.  it’s the least he can do for all the honesty she’s bestowed on him, right?  he’s never actually told anyone, though.  briefly, he thinks about laying back to grab the knife, stabbing a part of himself to illustrate it as opposed to saying it.

      “ probably the same thing you’re doing to me, “ is what whispers past his lips.  he leans in enough to kiss the tip of her nose.  being tender was lost on him but he could easily get used to it.  “ problem is, i have no idea what i’m doing.  this is just me.  very old and very tired me.  that’s a terrifying thought; that it’s just… “       he shakes his head and a chuckle bubbles up unexpectedly.  “ desi’s never going to let me live this down if he finds out.  i can hear him now. “  his lips purse in an attempt to sound like his best friend.  “ so, he really does have a heart after all.  who knew?  “   arthur shakes his head again.  “ i don’t cry my eyes out over a painting and he assumes i have no soul. “

[toomanythoughts2]

After thinking about fan artists drawing Murderface with curly hair, I've decided to also thank all of the fan artists that do the following (YOU ARE ALL RECIEVING KISSES IN THE MAIL, PLEASE BE PATIENT!):

People who draw Skwisgaar, Toki, or Nathan with their hair up in a claw clip or a ponytail. Especially Skwisgaar. You understand your power and you use it for love.

People who draw Toki and Nathan with fat, juicy tits pecs. You are doing the lords work and I love you.

People who draw Pickles with freckles. If the heavens saw the beauty that you bestowed onto our little midwestern Irish-American drummer, they would weep in joy.

People who draw the boys with detail eyelashes. I know what you are.

People who draw the boys with their HC-ed ethnics/races. (i.e. Nathan having Yaneemango features, Latino/Hispanic Murderface, Sámi Skwisgaar & Toki, very Irish Pickles.) The work that yall do is outstanding and I love to see it

SCARS! S.H. SCARS, TOP SURGERY SCARS, POSSESSION SCARS, POST-DSR & AOTD SCARS, TOKI'S CHILDHOOD SCARS! I'M FUCKING COMING FOR YOU! I LOVE YOU!

People who draw Murderface with distinctive clues that he is from the American South/Appalachians. I LOVE these HCs so much and I love the idea of him being from a very poor, southern town in America, it just fits him SO FUCKING WELL!

People who give Toki and Skwisgaar opposing eye shapes. I have seen them go both ways, and either one fits them so good. I am partial to downward turned eyes for Toki though, but either way, I eat it up every single time.

People who draw Murderface and Nathan as the fat men they are. Listen, it's a big girl winter every winter, but it's a big boy summer every summer. Ya gotta give the fat boys some love.

People who draw Skwisgaar in that damn speedo or in a bikini. He's got the confidence and you have the talent.

People who draw Toki in his roller skating outfit. Need I saw more?

People who draw one or more members of Dethklok as trans. I have yet to encounter a version of this HC/canon content that I do not love, adore, admire, respect, and obsess over.

People on tiktok that attempted to do a Metalocalypse version of the "Infected My Little Pony" trend. One of which where Nathan was the infected and the other where Toki was. Honestly, the artist that was doing the eldritch horror!Toki was fucking cooking. They had it where Murderface saw Toki in his true form and was terrorizing Murderface from keep him from revealing his secret.

People who draw Trindle. Listen, I understand Nathan. If I had a goth woman showing me her tits every second of every day, I too would look past the blatant psychopathic tendencies and mysterious disappearances.

People who are not afraid to make the boys look gross. You are all so fucking valid and your interpretations of the boys are so awesome to look at. Especially if it's a specific art style that is scratchy. LOVE!

People who draw Lady!Klok. Every single interpretation of what the boys would look like is so valid, whether they're cis or trans, their outfits and appearances are also so fucking spot on. And their HCs that are added on the side to explain how they're different from Dethklok is a fucking PLUS

People who draw Skwisgaar in lingerie. I want you to know, that I see you and I appreciate you in every single way.

People who draw Trans!Pickles content (NSFW & SFW) specifically. Yall were in the god damn trenches and you PREVAILED!

People who draw the boys with their interpretations of their nose shapes, ESPECIALLY MURDERFACE! HE'S GOT A BEAUTIFUL PUG NOSE, LET HIM HAVE IT! Double appreciate for Skwisgaar's beautifully crooked nose and Nathan's slanted nose. I love their faces so much and their noses and yall always know how to bring them to light.

People who draw Knubbler with no chin. Homeboy gave away his chin in order to accumulate all of the swagger he's got. He's a Mick Jagger type of guy.

People who draw Pickles dreads as independently floating tendrils like Medusas snakes. It is so perfect for him and it's so hard not to do it.

People who draw Pickles bald. Look...It's coming. He's just gonna have to own it.

People who draw Early!Klok ESPECIALLY TOKI! That fact that we don't have a lot of information about their past other than DSR is a SHAME! BUT ITS OK BECAUSE THE FANS KNOW WHAT TO DO AND THEY DO IT PREFECTLY EVERY TIME! Every time I see little DSR Toki with his short hair, I go fucking feral. I COULD BE A GOOD MOTHER!

People who draw the gore. The show would not exist without it, and some of yall are just cooking with the themes and context yall create. I am always so intrigued with what I will see next.

People who draw and make Dethklok lesbians. Of course Dethklok is lesbian. Why wouldn't they be?

People who draw the band in their "Dethfashion" clothes. WE NEEDED MORE TIME WITH THOSE OUTFITS! WE JUST DID!

People who have no clue how to draw a Fu Manchu. I had to look this up before I said anything but a Fu Manchu does not grow around the mouth, it's literally just hair from the top part of the mouth that continues to grow down. That's why in "Stare Down" Skwisgaar refers to Toki's mustache as an "extreme facial hairs". AND YET! I ADORE THE WAY SOME OF YALL DRAW IT, ITS VERY ATTRACTIVE AND CUTE!

People who draw the band members in their animal forms. YOU CAN TAKE THESE ANIMAL FORMS FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS! PICKLES THE OCTOPUS IS SO SPECIAL TO ME, ESPECIALLY AFTER "Dethmom"! AND THE BUNNY/RABBIT SYMOLISM FOR TOKI AND WITH HIM BEING THE ANGEL OF DEATH, ITS SO GOD DAMN IMPORTANT!

People who draw Agere!Toki. Canon age regression is so rare and to have Toki being a canon and explicit example of an age regressor throughout the entire show is so special to me. JUST LET THE BOY REST!

People who draw Abigail. She's a girl boss. She's the moment. I will NOT tolerate hate on my woman, she did not deserve the shit she got.

People who draw Deaddy Bear. I want one so badly, it's not a joke.

People who draw Toki in skirts/dresses. One particular art work with Toki is in a long bohemian skirt and a band tee with a scarf is my all time favorite example of it.

The person who created Lasagna, Pickle's daughter, and then made her a bassist. I eat your shit up every single time I see new stuff from that AU.

People who draw the boys with more piercings. Especially the angel bites on Toki, the middle of the lip piercing for Murderface, and the gauges on Nathan and Skwisgaar.

People who draw Pickles during his Snakes N' Barrels era. THE HIGHER THE HAIR THE CLOSER TO GOD YOU ARE! AND PICKLES WAS CLIMBING THAT LADDER EVERY NIGHT!

People who draw Pickles pubes in the shape of his goatee like in "Rehabklok". That's one of the funniest visual gags in the entire show, I won't hear another word about it.

People who draw Charles. Every single one of you are invited to my Charles Offdensen themed birthday party.

People who give Toki the longest hair length but give Skwisgaar the most definition. Also, when they remember Nathan's little hair wisp in his face. Skwisgaar has the waves and Toki is afraid to getting a hair cut.

PEOPLE WHO DRAW GODKLOK! GOATED AS FUCK! THE COOLEST FUCKING PEOPLE EVER! I AM FOREVER IN YOUR DEBT! EVERY SINGLE ITERATION IS SO FUCKING GOOD!

People who draw Top/Dom!Toki. LISTEN HE'S A SADIST, HE JUST GETS NERVOUS! IF YOU GIVE HIM TIME, HE CAN PROVE TO BE GREAT!

People who draw Nathan as the bottom. You understand what this man needs and it's to get railed.

People who draw the boys in jeans. Listen. This one is really niche but for whatever reason, this fandom puts these boys in a pair or jeans and they are looking as fine a fucking WINE!

People who draw the cowboy Dethklok fan art. What is it like wielding the power that you have?

That's all that I think of at the moment, but I really do appreciate all of the different kinds of fan artists this fandom has. There is some absolutely beautiful pieces in this fandom.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

my favorite scully moments from s4

in episode 1, she cracks encrypted messages, commenting that “you say ‘a twenty letter code’ to any scientist and they immediately think ‘protein amino acid sequence code’, which is what this turned out to be” <- and that is genius at work right there!!

skinner pulling her aside to ask “do you realize what you are promoting?” when she puts together there's a whole international smallpox conspiracy, and she cuts him off with a clear “i am a SCIENTIST, sir” <- that is right!! you tell him!!!

trying and failing to come up with a theory for how the photos in episode 4 became terrifying: “plus, the film is two years out of date” “oh” “the-the photographic chemistry could have changed” “uh-huh” “the-the dyes fade… they… alright, that’s your theory?” (had me absolutely giggling)

we also learn in episode 4 that she took german in college <3

in episode 6, she spends a great deal of time explaining the science behind sleeping pills and their controversial effects

(and i also loved her fury that such an advanced facility was being used for plastic surgery rather than life-saving care)

tearing into the culture of lawlessness while testifying in episode 9; talking about how she left the medical field to protect the innocent and punish the guilty- such an excellent moment, more of that good old fashioned scully righteous rage combined with inherent optimism- and her continuing to read her statement despite the council repeatedly cutting her off (as she should!)

choosing to be jailed rather than reveal where mulder was located, because she will do the right thing no matter the consequences (and is also just a really great friend)

((and bonus points for skinner checking up on her: “you holding up alright?” “i’ve got plenty to read”, she says, as she flips through medical texts))

“it is my natural inclination to believe they are acting in the best interest of the truth… but i am not inclined to follow my own judgment in this case” (casting aside her own optimism in the face of such corruption, understanding her personal bias and objectively putting it to the side… i admire her ability to do so)

((but still. after all she has been through, it is natural for her to believe that the government means well. it's incredible))

this exchange from episode 12: “where could he hide an adult body where it wouldn’t be found?” “i’ll show you” (cut to them sorting through the medical waste, mulder looking horrified as she casually says she needs his longer arms to sift through the body parts)

((but isn't it just great that she knew the answer to that question instantly?))

in episode 12, when she realizes that leonard betts trying to kill her means she has cancer, she responds to mulder saying she should be proud of stopping him with a quiet “i just want to go home”

(we get another "i'm going home" moment in episode 22, after their confrontation in the hallway about her fears, and the exhaustion contained in those few words could make me weep)

in episode 14, she writes letters saying goodbye to mulder, trying to convince him her inevitable death was not his fault: “and if the darkness should have swallowed me as you read this, you must never think there was the possibility of some secret intervention, something you might have done”, she wrote, knowing how he would blame himself, trying to spare his feelings of guilt even as she knew she had so little time left

later on, her nose starts bleeding while they're making an arrest; “quit staring at me, i’m fine!”, she says in the voice of someone who is deeply not fine, her helplessness inspiring a fury that thrashes about and digs its claws into everything inch of her

how she told mulder she was going to die, but insisted to her mother that she was fine- her mother is furious she didn’t tell her she was sick, shaking in fear, giving her a kiss and a hug, and saying that she is her only daughter now as they hold each other. while she can tell mulder the truth, she can't find the words to tell her mom how bad things really are

writing in her journal that she needs to draw strength from mulder, needs someone to lean on, even though she works so hard to be entirely self-sufficient; “i need to know you’re out there if i’m ever to see through this”

(contrast this with her earlier attempts to do absolutely every single thing by herself and bask in the character growth)

((but then she REJECTS what she wrote in the journal, saying that she isn’t giving up, and she has so much to prove to herself and her family- they have the conversation in the hallway that made me cry and cheer and yell and experience every emotion in between as she realizes that she is something worth fighting for))

in episode 18, she tries her best to save pendrell, telling him that “we still haven’t celebrated my birthday, pendrell; i’m not gonna let you off the hook like this” - it's the way she spent his last moments on earth trying to make him smile that gets me so emotional

later, she's having this very tense face off with skinner until he notices she was trying to hide her nosebleed; he grabs her hand and says “i have a responsibility for the safety of the agents under my supervision, agent scully. i’m not going to put another agent’s life in jeopardy just to keep her out in the field”, and she assures him she’s okay with tears in her eyes (the way he pierced through her best attempts at a stony exterior… i'm emotional)

they visit max fenig’s trailer again and she still HATED it lmao, she says “i remember being amazed at what some people will call a home”

(and then she disses the very bare hotel room they visit in the next episode, saying “i’m not sure if ‘living’ is the word i would use to describe this space” - give her all of the blankets and throw pillows, she wants a cozy house)

((this, combined with her saying "i want to go home" when she is experiencing moments of earth-shattering grief, made me realize how important to her it is that she have a nice, comfortable, safe space for herself))

smirking at her own stupid joke in episode 19; “what was he wearing, a long black robe and carrying a scythe?”

she knows the lowest temperature a human body has ever reached and survived (70 degrees) and also uses the phrase “nuclear magnetic resident spectra”, both of which made my heart skip a few beats

“okay, so this photo that was never taken, when was it never taken?” <- SEVERELY underappreciated line!!!!

in the opening of episode 20, she starts reciting facts about babies born with extra appendages in incredible detail, and i want to know so badly why she is educated on the subject. scully, please give us the story time video

she also mentions her plans to write an article on “diminished acetylcholine production in recidivist offenders” when she goes home from work. because that is how she spends her evenings, very casual. no big deal (said with great sarcasm)

her realization in episode 22 that the killer had been switching around the rings on each victim’s fingers, based on some blurry photos (it was a very good catch!)

talking to her therapist, admitting she struggles to talk about her fears, and that mulder’s passion has been a source of strength during her sickness

(we then, very briefly, see her praying in her nightgown in her apartment, before mulder knocks on the door to ask for her medical opinion. i find that shot so compelling, especially when you contrast it with her saying in the finale that she is not ready to return to the church- it must be too personal to talk about, god must be something she wants to experience on her own at this point in her life)

((and she grapples with the revelation that everyone else who had seen the spirits had been dying, knowing what it means for herself))

the way she shoots the evil nurse in the shoulder not to kill her, but to incapacitate her… scully, your aim is legendary

fun facts with scully, episode 23 edition: dostoyevsky had waxman-geschwind syndrome!

VERY FIRMLY telling mulder that he NEEDS to get to the hospital, and when he continually refuses, instead asking to go on a road trip, she agrees... ONLY on the condition that she drives!!!!

and when his terrible trauma ketamine trip culminates in him almost shooting her and himself, she manages to talk sense into him, before she rests her entire body on him, shielding him, not letting him move, weighing him down like an anchor back to reality

(her being the one taking charge in this episode even while she feels she is losing so much of her agency in her life makes me so emotional)

when mulder interrupts her family dinner in episode 24 to go on a quest for alien answers, she reminds him that this is his goal, and not hers. when he tries to convince her, she refuses to budge- it was frustrating to watch him put her in that situation, but amazing to watch her stand her ground

(and the fact that she wasn’t able to tell him her cancer was getting much worse is also so fascinating to me- why couldn't she bear to break it to him? would saying it aloud make it real?)

and of course, her tracking down the dude that shoved her down the stairs and nearly hitting him with her car (it was deeply satisfying)

[sandwitchstories]

I am normally not one for lusting after the bad guys. And I'm only still in the first season, but sweet tap dancing Christ Sukuna just DOES something to me.

So since I'm between meetings and my project is paused until the next meeting....

Have some more Sukuna brain rot! This one is actually tame for me and kinda soft and sweet. Hope you enjoy it!

If you would prefer to read it on AO3 click here

Summary: loving Sukuna came easy, even when it shouldn't have.

CW: Smut. MDNI. AFAB terms used to describe reader's sexy parts, Oral sex (male and female receiving), kinda stomach riding (is it really stomach riding when you're riding the mouth he can conjure on his abs?), it's also soft (the drabble, not Sukuna's cock)

People thought of Sukuna as a cold blooded, brutal, indiscriminate killer. And he was. His hands and body were soaked in more blood than you could even imagine. He had done bad things, horrible things. He knew it, didn't deny it, infact he loved to spur on others when it was brought up.

But you knew the other side of Sukuna. The one no one else before you had ever known. 

The Sukuna that held you so close while you slept, like he was concerned you would slip away. 

The Sukuna who would rouse you from your sleep with gentle kisses and nudges of his nose against your head when you would stir and cry out in your sleep from your nightmares. Murmuring words that you no longer had anything to fear. That you were safe. Nothing and no one would ever be able to hurt you again. 

You knew the Sukuna who screwed up his face while he willingly tried all of your different food creations.

You knew the Sukuna who made love to you. Sure he fucked your brains out, rearranged your organ, got you cock drunk and left you a fucked dumb mess in his arms in your joint bed. But he also made love to you- passionate kisses, slow deep thrusts, hands roaming your skin gingerly.

You knew the Sukuna who couldn't or wouldn't verbalize what he felt for you, but he showed you in a million ways.

He was blood thirsty. He was selfish. He was hellbent on many things. But one of them was loving and protecting you.

To the point that when you were on the verge of death, he pulled you into his innate domain, using his reverse curse techniques to help you and keeping you there. Not as a hostage. Not as a guest. But as the one and only person in all of his history that he could not stand to lose.

He was damned to hell when his time finally came.  Neither of you had any delusions about this. But while he was still here, while he was in your arms, you would make the most of every second.

You peppered his face with kisses to wake him up, chuckling at the grumpy growl he let out. You had no fear of him. You had no reason to. 

So you scooted down lower in the bed. Trailing kisses over his strong jaw, down his throat to his collar bone. You glanced up to see his eyes were still closed. You could tell he was awake but you'd let him keep his eyes closed. For now.

You pushed him onto his back, moving between his legs to keep kissing lower. You licked down the defined lines of his abs, grinning up at him when you saw him watching your through slits.

His large hand came to rest on the back of your head, cupping it. “I didn't tell you to stop, did I?”

You kissed his lower stomach as your hands slid up and down his strong thighs. You scooted back until you were at your destination.

You braced on one hand beside his hips as your hand began to stroke his hard cock. Standing tall and thick, weeping for you. You wrapped your hand around it and stroked it several times before licking across the head, letting out a small moan when his hips jerked in response. 

You looked up at him and smiled. “Good morning, handsome.”

Any reply he had turned into a gurgle in his throat as you took the head of his cock into your mouth, working more and more of it in, coating it with your spit and sliding it deeper. You started slacking your jaw to take as much of him as you could, his hand in your hair pressing you down, encouraging you to keep going. To take him deeper and faster.

You braced your hands by his hips as he took over with a hand fistws in your hair. His other hand cupped your cheek and you looked up at him, eyes glossy with want.

“You look so beautiful with my cock in your mouth. A good morning it is,” he smirked before he gave your head a little nudge downward. “As you were.”

You smiled around his cock, resuming your motions and moaning around him. His taste and the feel of him hitting the back of your throat were overwhelming. Your pussy was so wet, longing to be filled.

As if he knew your very thoughts he pulled you off his cock, pulling you up his body until your were straddling his stomach, kissing him passionately. His hands gripped your hips, pressing you down. 

“It's my turn now, precious,” he grinned. 

You felt him unveil the mouth on his stomach that he generally kept hidden. You felt it's tongue sliding between your folds and shoving into your aching center. You cried out as it began to fuck your pretty little hole.

“That is precious, let me hear you.”

You grabbed his face and kissed him, desperate to feel his lips against yours as his hands on your hips pressed you down further on the tongue prodding your center. Your hips rode it instinctively. Your clit rubbing against his skin. Your body shaking.

People thought of Sukuna as a cold blooded, brutal, indiscriminate killer. And he was. 

But he was yours. For better or for worse, you were with him to the end. Because you knew the true Sukuna. Who he truly wished he could have been when he met you. And in the end when he was destined to burn for eternity in flames  for all that he had done, you knew that your soul would be right there with him.

Because for better and for worse, he was yours.

[expectiations]

I can't believe it's been four months since we've been given the absolute gift that is the NineRiver audios. I remember weeping at 1 am over them and just melting at the way Nine became the most protective, most gentle, caring person after understanding River. Oh to be able to listen to Star-Crossed again for the first time!

On one note, I have seen people claim that for this particular regeneration, they're in a QPR. I object, but that's not what I started this post for.

Just like what is said in this post, the Doctor and River constantly fall in love with each other because River is River and the Doctor is the Doctor. They just click. It's evidenced by this specific pairing too. Sure, Nine may have been brash and rude to her at first but it changes once he processed the fact that apparently, he'd open up enough to marry someone in the future.

I may have said this before but one of the things I love about Archipelago is how it dispels any notion that the Doctor is forced to have sex with River. I have seen too often enough the (loudly incorrect) takes over that idea which irks me out because frankly, which version of Doctor Who did they watch? Cause it was clear af that the Doctor's very much into her and is always the one who instigates physical affection—cheek kisses, nose bump bops, see-you-next-adventure kisses, etc. Their marriage isn't built around sex. There is mutual trust and respect (and steamy, hot sparks) between these two. While some have chosen to gleefully point out that they're in a QPR, once again I respectfully disagree. If you insist, just scroll away.

I also love how he tries to understand, to *know* her. He reads her diary and tries to fathom the timey-wimey life they lead. He is basically acting the way any other regeneration of the Doctor would when they meet River, except this one is fresh out of the Time War and the wounds are still too raw and the loathing still too loud. Not that it got better by the time they met in the Library but relatively and all that.

Have I mentioned that I melt over how he's also *reaaally soft* with River? When River cries out of disappointment, he asks her what's wrong. She tries to 'hide the damage' but he shushes her and tells her to tell him what is wrong. When River tells him he should have left her in the time storm, he quietly tells her that that was never going to happen. And mind you, that was even *before* he read her diary.

For an endless moment, they had their happily ever after. They got to grow 'old' together. They got to exchange secrets no other version of the Doctor or River will *ever* know. And while there are conflicting interpretations of the part where River says 'they finally lay again together', I choose to believe they somehow found a way to have sex. Although I wouldn't be able to comprehend how considering they had crystals all over their bodies but unless I'm taking things literally, it's River and it's the Doctor and between the two of them, they're very much likely able to work it out lol

The penultimate part for me was right before they reset the timeline. When River told him that it's *the most romantic thing* he's ever done, that he's not just doing it for the timelines but he's doing it for them. He's giving up everything they had for everything they will have. And he responds that if it works, he'll have a lifetime to prove otherwise.

Oh and did I mention that I started sobbing uncontrollably AT ONE AM IN THE MORNING when I realized that their time together has left an indelible imprint in the universe??

Literally peak soulmate-ism.

[thirstyforsimonghostriley]

Simon (Ghost) Riley x reader

So sorry I haven't posted in a while I've been really busy with School and work! This week I have a study week (For exams but oh well) So I'll try and post more but anyway, This is just a cute little wholesome imagine cause I Fucking Love Domesticated Simon. (Also Yes this was a bit rushed so its not that Detailed and also there may be spelling Mistakes English is not my first language and I'm dyslexic.) Also the Divider is by @cafekitsune

(ALSO from the first “your beautiful Simon” to the second there is a TIME SKIP!! So no lol he didn’t just magically start fucking the reader

16+ ONLY!! - Smut warning! - Insecurities!!

Simon Riley was a private person sure, He kept his face hidden at work (Task Force 141) and pretty much everywhere else. When asked about it he wouldn't really speak about it just give a grumbled "Nunya fuck off" or if he wasn't in a horrible mood he'd answer "Protection.", But that wasn't really the case, Being in the Military for so long he was bound to have some injuries when he joined the SAS (Special Air Service) He broke his nose a few times causing it to heal crooked, Sure Simon wasn't the most handsome guy but he wasn't that bad looking until his nose got all fucked up, it made his whole face look out of proportion and he was so insecure about it that he would refuse to look at himself in the mirror unless he had to shave, That was until he met you after building up his trust (Very very slowly) He finally built up the guts to show you his face, He almost expected you to run away screaming because of how hideous he felt but instead? You smiled up at him bringing your hands up to his face tracing your fingers over it, His jaw, His cheeks, His lips, his eyebrows, His nose, his ears. You leaned in and kissed him gently whispering "Simon You're Beautiful" Gently against his lips.

"Fuck say it again," Simon grunted against your ear as he re-positioned himself moving his hands to the thick of your thighs pushing you further into the bed and he continued to snap his hips brutally into your weeping cunt, "Y-you're Beautiful Simon." you almost hissed out at the pace of his hips as he groaned into your ear once again before filling you up. After he watched as you slept against his chest brushing your hair out of your face gently with his thick calloused hands, That night for the first time in almost 5 years he spent longer than 20 seconds looking at himself in the mirror.

[imastrangeone98]

Their Arms Round Him, Pressed As Though Forever

(A/N: happy birthday @philistiniphagottini !!! My tumblr bestie who has never failed to endorse my filthy ideas and shenanigans, ily so much bby 🩷🩷)

No warnings; also fun fact: kakashi was my first anime crush 💘

Konoha has been far too quiet. With the war finally over, you've dutifully kept your eyes peeled for your beloved husband's return, anxiously awaiting a sign from him, from his ninken, from anyone.

Yet he has not returned to you. It has now been weeks, with no sign of your lover, and you grow anxious.

You've done everything you could, from venturing out into the wilderness surrounding the village, to haunting the hallways of the hospital. Yet he has not returned. The only reassurances you have are from his squad members, and you grow restless from those as well.

Your heart aches once more. Another day gone by, yet no progress was made.

As you watch the moon rise with tears in your eyes, you heave out a heavy sigh and sluggishly prepare for bed. Another plate of leftovers for the fridge tonight.

"Where are you, you silly man..." you wonder aloud, stumbling into the bathroom only to stare at your own reflection.

Your hair is terrible. There are dark bags under your bloodshot eyes. You haven't washed your face in days, maybe even weeks.

You sigh. "I look like shit."

"Just a little bit."

With a scream, you jump away from the sound, scrambling to grab a weapon to defend yourself from this intruder, until warm hands wrap around your wrists and a body presses against you. Silver hair tickles your nose.

"Sorry I'm late. I had some business to take care of," your husband murmurs into your ear, softly kissing the skin in apology. "I'm home."

He smells of the woods, and antiseptic, and his ninken. He smells alive.

Tears stain your eyelids. Nothing you do could stop them from spilling down your cheeks. And you weep in his arms, finally able to let the stones on your chest fall to the ground so you can breathe.

"Deep breaths, love. You're gonna choke on your own air," he chuckles humorlessly. "I'm here now. I'm sorry I took so long. I wanted you to see this."

His warm hands gently wipes your eyes dry, briefly cradling your face in his palms before pulling away and reaching into his pocket to pull out a small box. "The Cloud Village is known for its steel jewelry... I figured I'd get a souvenir for you."

You jokingly pout at him. "That is one of the most dumbest reasons I've heard from you so far," you sniffle.

But you smile nonetheless, and when he pulls out the necklace, you let him clasp it on you.

But nothing could compare to the way he wraps his arms around you once more, wordlessly letting you know that he isn't disappearing again.

And he presses you close to his heart as the moon continues to rise, and you know that he is with you. Now and forever.

--------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY NAGA!! I'm so sorry it took so long to get out, school has been rough 😭 but I hope you like this short and sweet fluff!!

[my-own-walker]

Hello. My dog just recently passed away and she was the light of my life. I was wondering if you could write one of the Evan’s comforting reader after they lose a pet? You can feel free to pick any character you want but if you don’t mind, I’d love it to be with Kit <3 just super fluffy and comforting? If not that’s totally okay too

Sleep With The Tides

note: aghhhh absolutely my love. i am so sorry that happened to you, i know it all too well. sending alllll of my love and support to you right now. also feel free to reach out if you need to talk!

warnings: mentions of pet loss, grief, kit fluff, the beginning is very sad please be warned...i expedited this one because i know how hard this time is, so bear with any possible typos or grammar errors!

+++

Goldie was a good girl. She never ran when I left the door open by accident. She was so good, she would go on walks by herself, with no leash, and just wear herself out until she felt like coming home. She was so tolerant of everyone. She was trained so well. Trained by me.

She left me. She gave me one last kiss on the nose before crossing over into paradise. Kit was there when it happened. I rang him as soon as I noticed things weren't right. I was right that I would need him.

He immediately wrapped me in an all-encompassing hug and shielded me from it all. I remember screaming. I remember sobbing. But I can't remember how I sounded. It felt like the louder I cried, the more silent the world got.

There was nothing he could say to help. He just held me until my body stopped being wracked by unrestrained sobs. He only left to grab me a glass of water before returning to holding me. Right there on the living room floor next to my baby girl.

'She was a great pup, darlin',' Kit whispered softly into my ear. 'She's not far. You'll see her again someday.' His drawl was warm and inviting, cushioning my mind from the blow of reality. I sniffed and breathed my first full breath.

'She can't be gone,' I spoke, almost noiselessly. I stared off for a moment before turning my head and catching a glimpse of her soft tail. I buried my head in Kit's chest and resumed weeping.

'I know, I know birdie,' he cooed. 'Should we go into the other room now?' I mustered a nod. I couldn't stay there with her. Kit helped me up by holding both of my shoulders and guided me into my bedroom, his body as close as it could be to me the whole time.

+

Hours later, Kit wrapped Goldie in a blanket and dug a hole in the yard. He did it all without my knowing. He set her collar and sweet pink bow on the kitchen side before returning to me, sleeping in my bed. I didn't feel tired, but suddenly I was asleep, then awake again.

I woke to the sound of Kit coming into the room. For a moment, everything felt okay. I almost couldn't remember why my eyes felt swollen and my throat felt raw.

'Kit,' I croaked, sitting up quickly. And it was as if in that moment the world turned on its axis for the second time that day. It all came back to me and tears rushed to my eyes.

'Aw, baby,' Kit uttered. He rushed to my side and began rubbing my back.

'Gosh, no, I'm sorry,' I stammered, sniffling and rubbing my eyes. 'I'm being so silly. She was just a dog.'

‘It’s okay to cry darlin',' Kit replied, still rubbing my back. 'She wasn't just a dog, she was family.' He kicked off his shoes and shifted so that he was sitting on the bed with me, his back up against the headboard. He patted his lap to beckon me closer. 'C'mere.'

I slotted myself in between his legs, laying slightly on my side so my head could rest comfortably on his chest. He wrapped his arms around me tightly and sighed.

'Do ya wanna talk about it?' His voice rumbled deep in his chest. He was warm and soft and smelled like motor oil, tobacco, and sage.

'It just happened so fast. All of it,' I mumbled. 'I can't even believe it's real.'

'She lived such a wonderful life because of you, Y/N,' he said, stroking my hair. 'It'll be different without her, but she was happy. You gave her everything.'

'I feel like I could have done more,' I sniffled. Kit squeezed me tighter and placed a kiss on top of my head.

'Don't say that, doll,' he tutted. 'She loved you so much.'

'Kit, can you stay for a while?'

'I can stay as long as you need me. Later on, I'll take you in the car to my place so I can grab a few things. I don't want you alone right now,' he answered. 'I love you.'

'I love you too, Kit."

+++

Again, I'm SO sorry for your loss. I know not much will take the pain away but please let me know if you need anything!

[tboyandor]

return his quiet certitude to the soil

a lil melshian tidbit. meant to write more before spring semester but woooopppsss... also I've been having feelings about Nemik and his short-lived friendship with Cassian :')

title is once again from don't carry it all by the decemberists :) I cannot be stopped!!!!!

not sure exactly when this is set or where they are, just sometime between Andor and Rogue One.

@snaggletoothblues hope you enjoooyyyy!!

read on AO3 here

--

Cassian lay his head against Melshi's shoulder, watching his face as he listened to the quiet, incisive words of Nemik coming from the little datapad on the bedside table.

Melshi had been listening in relative silence for a long while, his brow slightly furrowed in serious concentration, occasionally making a small ‘hmm’ of recognition, but little more than that.

Finally, quietly, he asked:

“How did he die?”

Cassian swallowed, took in a breath of Melshi's strong, sweet scent to comfort him, before saying, “He took a pallet of credits to the stomach.”

Melshi let out a soft wince.

“It happened when I was getting us out of the garrison, on the trawler,” Cassian continued. “We were under fire, and we needed to get out, didn't have time to lock anything down before we lifted off. I pulled us out, and when I looked back… we should have been smarter, made sure everyone was up in the cockpit with me. I don't know why we didn't. I should have…”

“Hey, don't start,” Melshi interrupted, as soon as he noticed Cassian's breathing starting to become erratic. 

He ran his hand gently along his arm, his fingers ghosting over the scar of a blaster burn on his bicep, before resting his hand at Cassian's belly, rubbing his thumb over the softness of his skin. Cassian's breathing calmed, slightly.

“It wasn't your fault, love,” Melshi said, turning his face a little to look at his partner. “You didn't have time. Shit happens, unfortunately. I'm sorry. I see now why you're so anal about making sure everything’s locked down before we take off.”

Cassian gave a small huff of laughter at that.

“Somebody needs to be,” he replied hoarsely.

Melshi smiled a little, and kissed his nose. Cassian nuzzled the side of his face, soft and rough at once.

“His writing is really good,” Melshi said, because it was true. Nemik had a way of putting things that made things click in Melshi's mind, thoughts and feelings about life under empire that he hadn't been able to put words to before.

“Yeah, it is,” Cassian agreed quietly. “All this time listening to it, it's probably what radicalized me. Along with… everything else.”

“There's been a whole lot of ‘everything else' for you, dearie,” Melshi observed.

“True, but it still helped a lot.”

“I can see why.”

Melshi stroked up Cassian's side, and down to the curve of his hip, and he let out a little sigh of gratitude for the loving touches, but the weight of some unspoken sorrow still remained in his eyes.

“I still don't understand why he gave it to me,” Cassian said after a moment. “I mean, he said I was his ‘ideal reader,’ or something, but… he never even knew my real name.”

Cassian's eyes misted over, and he closed them, and hot tears spilled down his cheeks onto Melshi's shoulder.

Melshi kissed his forehead softly, then drew him further into his arms, till Cassian was pressed flush against him, and was weeping softly into the crook of his neck.

He always cried so quietly, with rare exceptions, Melshi noted to himself. Melshi hoped that he didn't know the sound of Cassian crying better than the sound of Cassian laughing.

After a moment's consideration, he realized he knew both equally well.

Melshi pushed these questions from his mind, and focused on holding Cassian.

“Cass Cassy Kassa,” Melshi murmured in his ear, like a little loving incantation. “I love you.”

Cassian sniffled, and pressed a wet kiss to Melshi's neck.

“Rue,” he breathed softly and simply. “I love you too, so much.”

Then they both drifted off to sleep, the sound of Nemik’s voice and the meaning of his words mingling with their dreams.

[shieldofiron]

Hey dude, so everything is good with my family member, and I was wondering if we (as in me) could get some omegaverse munver w pregnant Jason cause I need that fluffy pregnancy shit.

I'm so glad! I've actually been playing them in the sims and Jason is on baby number FIVE so I think I have an idea for this. It may be edging into hurt/comfort, but it's just a little domestic moment from these cute boys and we get very fluffy at the end don't worry.

All Jason' wanted was to be able to flop down, face first into the pillow and scream until his lungs gave out.

Celia had needed help getting ready, and then the twins went back and forth, fussing when he tried to breastfeed them together. So he had to do it one at a time. Somewhere in the haze there has also been a diaper blowout, and Celia had of course spilled chocolate milk which meant Jason had to stop everything to clean before it got into the tv.

He'd let Celia watch way too much tv because the twins were running him ragged, and he felt like the worst Omega in the whole wide world.

But he couldn't lie down and scream. Because he couldn't lie on his stomach at all. Because he was a few weeks from popping out another one. Another baby to scream at him and pull his hair and...

Calloused hands brushed Jason's upper arm.

"Hey there, hot stuff," Eddie whispered, "Sorry I'm past bed time, they made a change to the stems-."

Jason swore he didn't normally cry this fast. Okay, he did, but he was supposed to be a dad now, and dads didn't cry.

"Oh," Eddie gathered him close, "What's wrong?"

"It was just... I just..." Jason shuddered, "I don't think I can do this."

"The album will be done soon, babe, I'll be home more," Eddie wiped Jason's tears away, "I know it's been a hard one. I know I haven't been-"

Jason shook his head, "That's not it. I almost lost it in front of them today."

"Lost it?" Eddie stroked his cheek, "Your temper? Babe-"

"No, I almost cried," Jason sniffed heavily, rubbing it on the arm of his pajama top. He hadn't even had the energy to get dressed today.

"What? Babe, who cares?" Eddie frowns, "I cry all the time."

Jason swallowed hard, "W-what?"

"This parenting stuff is hard and I won't lie to you, we may have gone a little overboard with pups right away," Eddie smiled, "Not that I regret a single fucking second. But sometimes... shit, I was this close to falling asleep with Jamie in my arms last night, and when Luce started crying I was right there with her. I would literally kill for a little extra sleep."

Jason wiped his nose miserably, "I'm their dad. I can't just go bursting into tears over spilled chocolate milk."

"Why not? You don't have to act like everything's okay all the time. Actually, please don't act like everything's okay. Come to me," Eddie kissed his cheek, "We'll cry together over the chocolate milk, right?"

Jason's heart swelled, and his eyes overflowed all over again.

And then, of course, Luce started to cry, wails echoing across the walls of their tiny fixer upper.

"I got that," Eddie nudged Jason to the bed, "You have a good cry, okay?"

Jason swallowed, trying for a moment to keep the feelings in. But by the time Eddie came back to bed and wrapped his arms around Jason, smelling like reheated breastmilk and baby wipes, Jason was fully weeping.

"I love you," Eddie whispered, "And I love our life. Tears and all."

Jason trembled a little, smiling despite himself, "I love our life too. I'm sorry. I just got so overwhelmed. And I don't even know how we're going to handle it with the new baby too."

"I don't know. I think we have a leg up, because it's gonna have the best Omega dad in the world," Eddie kissed Jason's cheek. "Who cries over spilled chocolate milk and kisses all their boo-boos and tries so very hard, all the time."

Jason smiled, "Baby-"

"Are you craving chocolate milk too?"

"Yes, we can't talk about it this much," Jason laughed.

Eddie hopped up onto his knees, "I'll make you one. No, we'll do one big one with two straws."

Jason made the bed before Eddie got back, spreading the quilt out and kneeling on it.

"You remember when we had no money, and you used to take me on picnic dates?" Jason smiled when Eddie sat on the bed and offered Jason one of Celia's favorite crazy straws.

"I remember how beautiful you look spread out on a picnic blanket, yes," Eddie smirked, sipping from his own crazy straw.

Jason rolled his eyes, "I'm trying to be romantic."

"What's not romantic about what I used to do to you on the picnic blanket?" Eddie smirked, "The poets would write epic poems as odes to your beauty, omega."

Jason huffed a little, blushing and taking a sip.

Eddie sipped from his straw, "I remember how we used to lie there afterwards in the grass, and you'd pull me close and tell me all your plans for us. The kids. The house. That I would get to play music every day... pretty romantic to me."

Jason's eyes felt a little hot, like he was going to cry again, and he looked up at the ceiling to try to calm it.

"How'd you do that, babe? Or did you just want it so bad you made it real?" Eddie asked softly, taking Jason's hand.

Jason swiped at his eyes, and Eddie set their chocolate milk on the side table.

"Don't cry, babe," Eddie crooned, pulling Jason closer, "I haven't even spilled it yet."

"I love you."

"I love you, Jason Munson," Eddie rubbed a hand gently over Jason's belly before sliding around to rub the small of his back, and his eyes looked suspiciously wet too, "I love you so much."

[waltwhitmansbeard]

go on, claim my heart: chapter thirty-six

see my masterpost for what came before this.

When Percy returns to his chambers, he is unsurprised to find Vex there waiting for him. Perhaps he should be surprised; there are a great many things for the Captain of the Royal Guard to be attending to at this moment, from the upcoming mourning ceremonies to the following coronation of the new sovereign to a reorganization of the guard following a kidnapping of a member of the royal family. Yet he opens the door, and there she is, sitting on the end of the bed, feet on the footboard, elbows on her knees, exactly where he knew she'd be.

She watches him in silence as he slips out of his shoes, shrugs off his coat, hangs it carefully on the hook by the door. The weapon he keeps at his hip goes onto his desk, and then he sits beside her. Without a word, her arms come to circle his neck, and she pulls him back, so that their shoulders hit the mattress and she's holding him, keeping his face pressed into her chest as he weeps for the second father he's lost now.

They lay there for longer than they should—he also has so many things to attend to, so busy, this time meant for mourning—but Percy can't bring himself to move. At some point, Vex's fingers have drifted up to play with the fine hairs at the nape of his neck, and he rather feels like a cat being scratched just so, wondering vaguely if he might spontaneously start purring. The thought, sudden and unexpected in the stillness of the moment, is overwhelmingly comical, and a laugh bubbles up out of him.

Vex pulls her head back to quirk an eyebrow at him. "What's so funny?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing. I'm...being stupid."

"Yes, well, I'm used to that." She smiles softly at him. "Did you say goodbye?"

"I did. It was...hard." And he finds that he does not want to talk to her about this, not when he has been so blessed to have had two fathers, each kind and generous and imperfect and wonderful, when she was denied even one who was not craven and heartless.

So instead he tackles the other elephant in the room. "I heard you."

Her breath catches in her throat. He watches her eyes dance between both of his, sees in them the strategizing, questioning whether she can get away with pretending she doesn't know what he's talking about.

She knows she can't. "We don't have to talk about this now."

"Vex'ahlia..."

"We don't. Our sovereign is dead. Keyleth will be crowned soon, if she's even awake yet. Vilya was nearly sacrificed in an immortality ritual not twenty-four hours ago. Bigger things are happ—"

He kisses her, slow but insistent. He then rests their foreheads together. "There are no bigger things. Not to me." He presses a hand flat against her stomach. "I will not presume to tell you what you want. I know that you take great pride in your independence, and if it is important to you, it is important to me, too. But I will say..." Oh, he did not expect this, the closed-throat emotion of it, the hiccuping heart in his chest. "I have been, in my life, so very good at convincing myself that I do not want the things that I want. It is easier, I think, not to want, because if you do not want, you cannot be disappointed.

"But this? I want this. I want you. I want our family, messy and strange and so very, very perfect. Seeing my sister, dying, being lured back to life by the sound of your voice—all of it made me realize that I am a man who wants a great deal, and I will not deny myself that want any longer."

Tears slip quickly and silently along the curve of Vex's nose. "I've been so scared," she breathes, "so, so scared. I didn't know—what if you didn't—what if I didn't—"

He shushes her, pulling her in this time to cry into his shirt. "I'm sorry you've been holding this alone," he whispers into the crown of her head. "I'm scared, too. I think it's safe to say my own relationship to parenthood is...complicated. But Vex..." He gently pulls back to take her face in his hands. "I love you." Her face crumples. "I love you more than I think I know how to say. And loving you is one of the only things in this world that does not scare me."

She kisses him then, wet and hard, and whispers against his lips, "I love you, too."

He holds her close, this miracle woman carrying their miracle child, and focuses on not letting his heart burst right out through his chest. After a few minutes, a thought strikes him. "Wait, did you know about this before you left on the quest for Vilya?"

A prolonged pause. "Um. Yes?"

"The quest so dangerous it got me killed?"

"Mhm?"

"Oh, I am going to be so very, very angry with you later."

"Of course, darling."

.

Vax rests back against the headboard, Keyleth curled into a tight ball in his lap. He's tucked her head under his chin, and now that she's cried herself out, she breathes slowly, in and out, clearly still exhausted even though her eyes remain stubbornly open.

And he can imagine why; what nightmares must await her in her sleep, what horrors, what sorrow, what fear? To travel the continent in pursuit of their stolen child, only to come home, battered but triumphant, and be told that her father, now, is lost forever—what has Keyleth done to earn such acute agony as this?

(Because it is forever, this loss. Vax sank deep into the pool of blood, let it fill his lungs to bursting until he was in front of her, seething, seeing red, demanding the return of his wife's father. His relationship with the Raven Queen has always been tenuous, nebulous, unsure; he will serve her until his dying day, and likely long after, a fitting payment for the gift of his wife's life, but then, what is the point of being her so-called champion if he cannot do even this small thing, restoring a good man to world?)

Keyleth has one hand gripped tightly into the fabric of his tunic, as if she fears she will blow away in the wind if she lets go. He strokes her hair, tangled and soiled from all their time on the road, and presses soft kisses about her temple. From just beyond their bedroom wall, he hears the familiar babbling sounds that he once feared he would never hear again. He is so endlessly grateful for Nel, who has installed herself in this cottage as Keyleth begins the agonizing process of putting her pieces back together again.

Keyleth must hear Vilya's small coos as well, because she murmurs, "I need her."

Vax doesn't need to ask for clarification. He carefully shuffles Keyleth to the side and slips off of the bed, and for a brief moment, the hand twisted into his tunic tightens. Then she lets go, and he quickly leaves the room, where he finds Nel tidying up, the baby snuggled in a woven sling across her chest. Nel looks just as tired as Vax feels—she'd been summoned as soon as they'd arrived back through the cherry tree, and once she'd confirmed that Vilya would suffer no long-lasting effects of her kidnapping, she'd remained to watch her while Keyleth recovered and Vax stalked off to futilely feud with a goddess. As Vax relieves Nel of her burden, he conveys his thanks for her steadfast dedication to his family. She merely pats his cheek with a sad smile and tells him that she will return as soon as she can take a brief nap of her own.

Vax takes Vilya back into the bedroom, where she curls easily into her mother's arms. He sits beside them, an arm around Keyleth, and when he feels some of the tension in her shoulders ebb away, he says, "I hope you know that I begged. I promised her everything I could to get your father back. I'm sorry it wasn't enough."

Keyleth runs a fingertip along Vilya's nose, across her rounded cheek, up to the point of one ear. "It's not your fault."

He hears what goes unsaid in the monotone of her voice. "It isn't yours either, Keyleth. Tell me that you understand that." She doesn't answer, and Vax wants to take her by the face, force her to meet his eyes and believe it, truly believe that she is not responsible for her father's demise.

"What did she say?" she asks instead, still looking only at their daughter. "When you asked for him back?"

Vax runs a stressed hand through his hair. What did she say, indeed? "She said that this was part of her warning, though I cannot possibly figure out how. She claims that the threads of fate are still being pulled. Kiki, I don't know what it all means. I don't know how to make this better, I don't know how to fix what's been broken."

"I need to see him."

The words are so quiet Vax almost doesn't catch them. He reaches a hand up to curl over his little girl's soft, wispy hair. There is so much suffering in this world; how is a man meant to keep such pain from his daughter? It is like stemming the tides with his bare hands.

He kisses the shell of Keyleth's ear. "We will go together. As a family."

Keyleth nods, her head coming to rest on his shoulder once more. It scares him, her quiet, her stillness. She may have cried herself to exhaustion now, but he knows that the eye of the hurricane has not yet passed over this house, that winds of grief strong enough to pull the cottage apart stone by stone are still howling in the distance. And somewhere, in the midst of such a maelstrom, she is supposed to become a queen, to lead her people into the next chapter of their story. What terrible things we demand of each other, he thinks as he watches tiny eyelids grow heavier and heavier in Keyleth's arms. What terrible, terrible things.