#(now i know that a: i need the entire outline before i start writing and b: i need the whole thing written before i post anything)

[thaliagrayce]

i wanna write for a bang SO BAD this year, please PLEASE let me know if you hear about any bangs i can join

[dilf-docs]

So Is it Your Place Or Mine?

bfd!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: summer is over, but your affair with joel isn't (or, you grind on joel's belt buckle while sarah is at soccer practice)

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., exhibition kink (sarah is again a victim of this), brat taming (this two are soo into it), degradation kink, praise kink, lwk breeding kink, daddy kink (wow! it's a whole library of alexandria of kinks in here), fingering, dad bod!joel (best joel you mean), angst (oh guys look oh no it's alr starting), dirty talk!!!!! (they're so dirty ew i want it too wait who said that)

word count: 3,701 words

side note: and it became officially a series. hope u all are into this as much as i am because it's my first series ever !!!!! ALSO angst finally makes it way in this mess LET'S GO (i'mcrying i really looked up big texas belt to come up with a mental image in the middle of class, i'm so sorry to whoever sat behind me but idc abt me writing smut while at uni; we die like real men)

part: prev | masterlist | next

"What do you mean you're not coming?"

It's been an unspoken rule that, even if you hate sports and the ball stays ten meters away from you, you always come to Sarah's soccer practice, cheering for her from your usual spot at the benches.

Except today, you aren't there. And now Sarah is calling you when she shouldn't, but that she doesn't know.

"I can't. I have stuff to work on stuff"

Bullshit.

Your laptop and the half-written essay sit untouched at the coffee table. The thing being touched in question, is something entirely different.

"Need help?"

His hands grip any free spot of your glistening skin, sucking on the rosy pink until it turns maroon red.

"I'm at my dorm, sorry"

Double bullshit.

Sarah doesn't even know your car is parked next to her dad's truck. She has about four hours to find out.

"I can drop by later then" she suggests.

His hot breath tingles against your neck as his nose caresses the spot. Bad girl, he mouths, like he wasn't the one who told you to pick up, despite his daughter's name on the caller's ID. You try to reach for a kiss, but his digits press on your hair, pulling you back with violence to forbid your lips from touching his. Bad girl, and your arousal drips with more intensity at the remark. Bad girl.

"No!" the answer comes quick, your voice strained, and Sarah jokes that you should take it easy with your classes, instead of suspecting anything else.

"Fine! I won't go if you don't want me to, but if you show up dead by stress, I'll be free of guilt"

He kisses the outline of your jaw with sloppy movements, like he just wants to busy himself while Sarah blabbers about the practice, and you keep trying to make her stop, but she tells you not to worry, that she's on a break right now, and the task to avoid whimpering at his rough kisses across your neck becomes increasingly difficult. A gasp escapes your lips when his teeth sink into your flesh. Mine, not to be said but to be felt. Seen by the rest. A pretty red that tastes like the blood he craves, the hunger akin to violence. Bad girl, and he's biting your lip to stop any other filthy noises from escaping. What if she hears?

"Are you okay?" concern laced on Sarah's tone. Guilt creeps through the cracks of the worn-out paint of his bedroom, one your friend had practically begged him to restore; the joke of it all was that was about his job yet he couldn't fix his own goddamn house. "Y/n, did you hurt yourself?"

I'm treating you well, ain't I, doll? and then he'd grin against the crook of your neck before looking at you, his dark blown-wide pupils gazing at you with a hunger you didn't think it was possible. They'd burn, and the fire didn't scare you: it was the warm your cold body needed. Tell Sarah her daddy ain't hurting her slut of a friend.

"I-I'm fine" you manage to choke out. Good girl.

Joel's lids feel heavy as a crown. But you like 'em rough, don't 'cha, baby?

"Should I worry?"

Joel pulls harder, your scalp burning at the harsh tug. Answer when I ask. You breathe in heavily, and Sarah keeps on asking you if you're okay, threatening to burst through a dorm door she'll find empty.

"N-no" you meekly answer, and he laughs at your demeanor. Under his weight, pinned down on the mattress, there's nowhere to run to.

"Is it okay if I-"

"Sarah I need to hang, okay? My head hurts. Bye" it all comes down in a rush, the words a vomit of excuses. You make sure the call has ended, and so does Joel, that in an act of mercy, has stopped. You both look the screen until the lockscreen is back up again, a picture of you and Sarah. Despite used to having his weight on top of you, your throat feels constricted.

"Do you want to traumatize your daughter, Mr. Miller?"

He's back at his task of kissing, making you moan and writhe at the sensitivity of your kissed and bit skin during the last hour. You hate how he takes his time―edging you; unbearable.

"What I want is you"

The lie comes out effortlessly from his teeth. He wants you, needs you, but does he really want you? His daughter's best friend, the college girl he was going to lecture just last summer―to live life and forget about him, yet couldn't. He lies to himself, saying he didn't because you felt asleep, but feeling a warm body next to him, being your beautiful frame of all people, made it hard.

The way he makes a moaning mess out of you, how he knows every spot of your body no one had been able to please before, how your cunt stretches perfectly around his cock, how you call his name like no one else had done. It belongs to you now, and this is a vice.

It's like he's got a wound, and you're the only balm that can soothe the pain. But the effect is temporary, and after you leave, he always finds himself wanting more.

The doubt on his eyes has your heart beating out of fear.

"Then have me, Mr. Miller" you dare.

When Joel smiles, barely noticeable, something flutters in your stomach.

"Al'ight, impatient one. We have sum hours until Sarah's back. Spread" his hand nudges your thighs apart, and you oblige, making Joel chuckle at your obedience. "Good girl, baby. S'good f'r me"

You let out a gentle moan at the praise, and he smirks at your reaction.

"Feelin' desperate, are we?" he taunts, seeing your pretty lips parted and face flushed, a whine escaping them.

"Shut the fuck up and just kiss me already" you beg, pussy throbbing painfully.

"Damn brat" he hisses, "ain't you such'a needy greedy slut?" his finger hooks on your panties, tugging you closer into him, your body rising to clash against his softer frame that has nothing to do with his rough demeanor. You can feel the bulge that has formed through his pants, making you moan in delight.

"Sorry, daddy. I'll be a good girl" you squirm under his weight, pouting lips and batting eyelashes. "Please, kiss me. Pretty please, daddy"

"Jus' cus you asked well" but he knows it's an excuse to capture your sweet lips until he's tasted all of you. You once heard old men kiss like they want to devour every inch of your mouth, to make space for their tongue like it's going to live in there, and they were right.

He pulls away from the kiss to pull out his shirt, revealing his soft body. Your hands itch, immediatly reaching for it with wandering fingers. He chuckles at the eagerness, but then he catches the subtle adoration in your eyes, and his breath hitches, heart stopping.

"What's wrong?" you look up, and it's gone. Maybe he imagined it.

Joel doesn't know why he feels dissapointed by it.

He tries to push the thoughts back, head diving down between your breasts, leaving sloppy kisses and messy trails of saliva with his tongue on each one. He gives a special lick to your hardened nipples, making you squirm.

"Gonna bend y'r fuckin' sexy little body on this sheets. Gonna make you cum all'over, until y'r scent is'mpregnated on 'em"

You groan at his words, fingers pulling down the pajama shorts you brought over, revealing your pretty black laced lingerine.

"Fuck, baby. You wore 'em for me?" he's asking, and you'd be crazy if you think the tone reveals devotion. Is Joel even capable of warmth?

He leaves a new trail of kisses, this time, running from your neck to your stomach.

"Gonna make you scream my name 'til that's the only thin' you know how to say" his hot breath tingles over your abdomen. He buries his face in there, the mustache and scruffy graying hair tickling the skin. "Gon' give you such'a load, this flat stomach of yours will be bustin' with my seed"

You whine at his filthy words, mouth agape slightly. He looks at your soaked panties, arousal on clear display now. Joel's cock twitches in the confines of his jeans.

He lets out a low growl. "Look at you, such'a slut for me. Drippin' wet like a fuckin' whore and desperate, when I ain't even touch you"

To prove so, Joel teasingly runs his fingers along your inner thigh, dangerously close to your soaking core.

He pulls your underwear down, taking them off.

"M'gonna fuck you real good, baby" his fingers dig on your thighs for support, the burning sensation of his calloused digits on your soft skin delicious. "Gon' take care of what's mine"

Mine.

The words ring loud and clear. The only other noise to be heard is his lips leaving wet sounds against your thighs. Does Joel even realize what he said? Or was it in the heat of the moment?

No, wait. Stop. Why do you care?

He begins to rub circles in your clit, coating his fingers in your dripping arousal, prodding the tense needy hole, making you moan in desperation.

"Please, daddy" your lips cry as you beg for him to do anything to remove the pain in between your legs.

"Please, what?" Joel teases, voice raspy. He keeps prodding your center, his digits in and out in a gentle manner, contrasting his hard hold on your thigh. You squirm and whine at the sensation, but maybe it's the dark on his eyes that's really responsable for making you shrink under his gaze. "Think 'm doin' this for ya'? To please ya'? No, baby" he tuts, "you were a bad girl. Almost got caught"

"If you didn't make me answer" you seethe, a moan almost escaping your lips when his fingers hit that sweet spot of yours. "Maybe if you didn't, she wouldn't-"

Joel removed his fingers from you, and you reduce to a moaning mess, begging for the release you were chasing and now it's lost.

"But you wanted'er to know, didn't ya'?" he unbuckles his belt and fumbles with his worn-out jeans, revealing a barely concealed neediness on his side. "Wanted'er to know where 'er slut of a friend was: at daddy's house, beggin' for his dick like a cockhungry slut"

"I-I want it. Want you dick" you barely choke out, lips parted at the sight of his pulsating dick's silhouette under his brief.

"Then take it, hungry one"

His tip buries deeply into your cunt before you even speak again, sliding inside in one swift motion. You gasp, as he fills you up completely, because despite the way your cunt stretches for him, or the way you have had his dick and need it, his girth never fails to amaze you.

"D-daddy" you moan, walls stretching to accommodate his size. Your sweet arousal drips down your thighs, coating Joel's balls. Fuck, doesn't he love to see you squirming under him. He's never had a woman like you before, wrapped around his finger. You may be a girl, but God, you feel so much better around his dick than anyone else: your cunt tenses around his cock deliciously, his dick twitching when he takes a look at your legs shaking and fucked out state.

"That's it, pretty girl. Beg for'it"

His words go straight to your core as you moan. "Please. Let me take all of you, Joel, please"

You said his name. Fuck. He shouldn't be this aroused, but the way you say it like that's the only thing you know, like it means something more, it makes his dick throb and heart sting. That he, Joel Miller, old bitter man, single dad, could mean more to a young pretty girl like you.

"Fuck" he grunts, grabbing a handful of your hair as he begins to pull out slowly, plunging inside of you with harsh movements. The sound of skin clapping is obscene as he begins to fuck you mercilessly. "Ain't you a noisy lil' thing, huh? You like that, baby? You like it rough?"

Your voice comes out shaky. "Y-yes, daddy. F-fuck, just like that. I like it a l-lot"

"Good girl" he grins satisfied with your respone, his thrusts getting rougher and messier. "Lookin' s'pretty with my dick's inside of you"

Joel changes angles without telling you, brushing your g-spot. A noise so loud and vulgar comes out of your parted lips, and you feel ashamed.

But then he's brushing a strand of hair from your face, with a delicacy you've seen reserved for his daughter only. It feels weird, and you try that it doesn't distract you from your looming orgasm.

"Joel..." you breath out his name.

"Yes?" with everything coming out of his mouth: possesiveness, neediness, pleasure. Like he'd give you the world if you just ask, despite telling himself he wouldn't.

"K-keep going"

Your gaze bores into his eyes with an intensity that almost makes him stop. Because the words are simple, but Joel's been alive enough on this Earth to know it doesn't mean just that.

Keep going. Don't stop. Don't end this. Don't let me go.

"Whatever m'princess asks if she asks 'em nice"

You scream in pleasure as his thrusts become deeper, his balls slapping against your cunt, as your slick begins to run down your thighs. Joel thinks he's going crazy at the way your folds take him, how tight you feel, and the loud noises you make, begging him to fuck you harder, to use you. Every thrust pushes you closer to the edge, writhing under his touch as you begin to see stars.

"You close, aren't ya'?" he laughs, but it's devoid of mockery. A subtle softness hides behind them. Ask nicely, and I shall give. "Gon' cream 'round my dick like a good girl, right?"

His digits dig in the flesh of your hips, guiding himself to fuck you harder, for you to take him better, caging your body under the sheets, pushing you even closer to your orgasm. You mewl loudly, tears in the corner of your eyes at the delicious burn.

If you told yourself a year ago you'd be crying over Joel Miller's dick, of all people, you'd probably laugh. But no college boys had been able to please you, less bring you to tears as you reach your orgasm. This is heaven, and you aren't ready to say goodbye to the paradise you found in summer just yet.

Your core tenses around him, body so close to finishing, hair a mess, eyes brimming with tears, and lips spilling the filthiest sounds ever heard to humankind. It's heaven, and Joel isn't ready to give it up just yet. Your pussy throbs, and as your juices mix as one, you roll your eyes and head back, your high approaching, knot in your stomach tightening faster. Before you can register, your mind goes blank and you're seeing stars.

You come around his cock, coating it in your arousal as Joel admires how you cream his member, tight walls almost pushing him out of you. He groans at your simmering cries, some tears coming out of your eyes.

"What'e fuckin' slut, baby. You sure are somethin' else" he chuckles, his thrusts messier by his own high approaching. "Wait for me, yeah, baby?"

You humm, as he buries deep into you, filling you up completely, as his hips stop their harsh movements when he feels the tension in his abdomen release.

"Fuckin' sweet" he uses a finger to clean some of the slick that's run down your leg. "Good girl"

He licks them off in an obscene display, making sure to never break contact.

"If you keep doing that, I'm gonna become a real bad girl" you taunt.

Then he pulls out of you carefully, doing his best not to spill too much of his load from your cunt. He grabs one of the corners of his sheets, cleaning some of his seed from your thighs. Joel should be careful, but all his foggy mind can muster is you being his in every way he can. Making you his. Mine. Mine. Mine. You plead him not to do that, but he argues laundry day is soon and he likes it better when it smells like you anyway. You confess with a cute light blush in your cheeks that you do the same when he comes over to fuck you in your dorm, sleeping better when the covers smell like him. He shouldn't feel like this: like it could be. But he allows himself to, even for an instant.

"Oh, yeah?" he pants, "what you gon' do?"

Your eyes travel to his jeans and untied buckle he hadn't wasted time taking off, rather just pulling them down.

"I have something in mind..." you wander off, remembering filthy thoughts of your first night together, how you briefly thought about it. "I-" you cut off, blushing furiously.

"Yes?" he holds your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him as his rough fingers press on the skin. "Remember what I told ya', baby? To ask nicely? 'Cause you said you'd be a good girl, so be one and tell daddy what'd ya' want"

You gulp, trying to hold his gaze. You never back down. You never back down. But the intensity of the shinning copper makes that insufferable character of yours to be tamed, boiling against the surface but just scratching, all screams lost. Is like he knows this power over you, acting on it with a benevolence so sick, it has you thinking loving Joel Miller isn't impossible.

You never back down, but being with Joel feels like walking over stones, always thinking about the next step and the ones that were, ghosts of the lingering doubts and afterthoughts behind every step you take. It's like there's a river below them, washing away regret.

But you're still here: water up your knees then and now over your head.

You're barely floating. You'd be willing to drown anyway.

"I want to ride your belt buckle"

There's silence in the other side, until its met with a light chuckle.

"Yeah?" Joel keeps on laughing, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "S'that what that filthy head of yours be thinkin' on?"

"Stop it" you groan, covering your hot face with your palms. You wish you could erase that ugly smirk off his face. "I'm never telling you anything again, ever"

"Now c'mon, baby. I was jus' messin' 'round" his tone adquires a soft edge to it, tender warm hands removing yours from your face. "Don't cover your face, baby. You're too goddam pretty" you blush, and Joel better resist the urge to kiss you just for the sake of kissing you. "I didn't mean to make fun of ya'. You know y'can tell me anythin' that's goin' inside that head of yours"

"Then you'll let me?" your pretty eyes look up to him, shinning like the stars of the summer night sky months ago.

He can't deny you anything, and a small crack of fear wounds his impenetrable heart.

"Get'ere you filthy slut"

You eagerly climb onto his lap as he sits against the beds headboard, your thighs pushing against his belly.

"Now" he tries to put in a more comfortable position, his tired joints creaking. He avoids your gaze, coughing over his blush. "You do all the job, baby. I ain't gonna help you, this greedy pussy took all of my energy"

You giggle, moving until your bare pussy clashes against the cold. A shiver runs down your spine, the dried juices moistening again over the metal piece. His hands move to your hips, hands now soft as they hold you, and he seems unsure of it, both of your breaths coming out ragged.

"You said you weren't gonna help" you chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck. His face feels closer, and you can see lines time has marked across his features. "But thanks, daddy"

His heart takes a dangerous leap.

"'Course, baby" he smiles. "You know I spoil ya' too damn much"

You begin to roll your hips, sliding your pussy over the cold material, your arousal making a wet slick sound that bounces off the walls, a shiver down your back as you feel your slick already coating the front of it and the top of his jeans.

"Mmm, can't say no to me, can you, baby?" you mock, rocking your hips back and forth. A shaky breath escapes your parted lips, and Joel feels his renovated dick spring hard. You moan, your ass barely touching his now tense member.

"Quit runnin' that mouth of y'rs, baby" his digits dig on your skin, "or I'll bend ya' over again"

"Sorry, daddy" you feel the metal star on the middle digging inside your pussy, the borders of the imprint brushing your leaking cunt in a pleasant way. "I promise to be good"

"Do" he grunts, "you're runnin' out of time, doll"

You close your eyes, movements more quick and erratic, little moans leaving your body as you groan.

"Tell me how this lil' experiment of yours feelin', baby"

"F-feels good, daddy. Fuck" you groan, lifting your hips a bit as you grind yourself down across the material. "So so good, daddy. Thank you, daddy"

"Mmm, that's right. Now be a good girl and come for me. Let me see that pretty face of yours when ya' come over ma' belt"

You let out a shaky breath, juices spilling over his jeans even as you see stars. He chuckles, enamoured at the sight.

"You gonna need help with that?" you point out his boner.

Oh, aren't you a doll? So kind-hearted.

"That's okay" he breathes out, tiredly. He thinks of the next trip to the bathroom, the image of what he'll fuck himself to clear now.

You smile at him, for the first time forgetting this started as a blowing-off-steam-time or transaction.

For a moment, it feels like it could be.

"Jus' seein' you cum all over me so prettily is'nough, baby"

credits: divider @kodaswrld / gif @loregifs

[jobean12-blog]

A Stolen Moment

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Summary: The General has been busy as of late and you miss him.

Author's Note: I can't exist without being horny over this man...they post a new picture of him sitting down and I'm like OH WELL- now I need to sit in his lap, kneel between his legs and do all these other filthy things because his legs and hands and thighs exist. UGH. I mean how am I supposed to survive this, he can't even sit in a chair without me losing my mind...guess I have to write out the horny. LOL anyway, thanks for listening to my rants and thanks so much for reading, much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you sweet Daisy! 🥰

Warnigns: soft sweetness, tension, teasing, semi-public sex (I mean it is the Colosseum), Marcus is perfection.

Marcus Acacius Masterlist

The rare quiet of the arena is almost unsettling, the usual raucous crowd nonexistent and the commanding power it exudes masked under the veil of darkness that slowly settles with the descending sun.

The imperial box is empty and the gilded seat on which you sit grows cold as you wait. The fabric you wear is different from anything you’ve ever worn before and perhaps different from anything that’s been created yet.

Due to tradition, you’ve been trained in the art of sewing and because of this you were able to make the silk garment that’s currently draped seductively over your body. You know your husband will approve, however, how he will react to you wearing it in such a public place, is an entirely different story.

The silk is layered, giving the illusion of coverage, but even in the dimness of the setting sun, you can see the outline of what teases beneath.

Heavy footsteps echo behind you, and you recognize the steady pace of his feet.

He walks slowly up the steps, dressed in his more formal toga, outlined in gold that glints as it catches the dying light.

His eyes find you and he stops.

“My gods wife.”

A heated smile starts at the corner of his mouth and lazily stretches across the other as he peruses you from head to toe.

“I’m not forgetting some celebration today am I?”

You shake your head and stand, walking over to him.

“No, nothing to celebrate today. Just you.”

He stills, his eyes lowering to sweep down your body. “Me?”

“Yes,” you say. “You’ve been too stressed lately. I want to help.”

“I see,” he says with sparkling eyes. “And you thought displaying yourself…so… temptingly… in one of the most coveted seats of the Colosseum was going to help?”

You run your hands up his chest to the buckle near his left shoulder. Loosening it, you continue, “I know how to best help you relax General and I knew this would get your attention.”

“You always have my full attention,” he whispers.

You smile, knowing the truth his words hold.

He looks you over again then reaches up to drag the calloused pad of his thumb over your bottom lip.

Normally you might kiss it. Tonight, you bite down. He pulls back with a little gasp.

“You’re irresistible.”         

His hands slide forward and frame your hips, and he pulls you into his chest, running his nose along your neck with an inhale.

“What do you plan to do with me?” he whispers into your skin.

You push his hands away and slide off his cloak.

“I’m glad you asked.”

Your fingers fall to his belt, and you start to loosen it, remaining silent.

“Well?” he asks with an amused smile.

“Whatever I want,” you say simply, your hands deftly pulling the belt from his waist.

“I suppose I’m at your mercy then.”

With a tilt of your head, you step back. “Take off your tunic.”

He holds your gaze, testing your restraint, before he relents and gives you what you want.

Slowly, he pulls the fabric off, and you struggle to keep your attention on his face, knowing that every inch of the skin he’s revealing will distract you.

When he begins to loosen the fabric at his hips you’re unable to resist reaching forward and running your hands lightly down his chest. His breath hitches and you love it, skin tightening beneath your fingertips.

He toys with the material again, and you can tell he’s teasing you, waiting for you to meet his eyes.

“Keep going,” you tell him.

The undergarment falls to his feet and it’s all you can do to not slide down to your knees and take him into your mouth.

But somehow, you manage to resist, even as he reaches down, circles his large hand around his cock and holds it out as an offering.

When he starts to remove the first of his wrist cuffs, you still his hand. He raises a questioning brow, and you demurely smile.

“Leave those.”

You push lightly on his chest, toward the ornate chair he found you in. “Sit.”

He does as you say, and you follow him, straddling his thick thighs.

“I miss my husband,” you say with a pout. “You’ve been busy, and your attention has been elsewhere lately.”

You see his expression soften at your words before the corners of his mouth turn down.

“You know you’re all that matters…”

You press a finger to his lips to silence him.

“I’m not blaming you General. I’m just taking matters into my own hands…taking what I want.”  

You rest your ass on his thighs and then slide forward, giving his cock the briefest bit of friction against you before you move away again.

Beneath your palms, his shoulders bunch and he lifts his hands to touch you.

“Don’t,” you warn. “Or I’ll bind you.”

“Does it make you wet to take control like this my beloved?” he whispers.

You answer with the slide of your hand between your legs, the slip of your fingers under the silk. Your eyes close and you moan quietly as you touch yourself, rolling your hips.

You can hear his breath hitch and feel the muscles of his thighs flex and strain. Pulling your fingers away, you capture his chin with your free hand and paint a wet line along his upper lip.

He groans, pained and gravelly and you look down to see his cock hard and arching up toward his belly button.

Your mouth waters. “Marcus.”

He hums but doesn’t move and you look up to see him lick his lips, tasting you on his skin. Staring intently at you, he pushes his hips up, his cock a heavy presence between you as you gaze at his face.

“Are you feeling more relaxed?” you ask him as you lean forward and kiss his jaw.

“Tortured, might be a better word my love.”

You can see it in the way his pulse flutters in his throat and you press a steady hand to his chest.

He relaxes in pieces: his legs beneath you first, then his abdomen, shoulders and finally his expression.

“That’s better,” you murmur.

With a deep exhale he lifts his hands, the gesture tentative as he slowly reaches for your shoulder and traces the soft curve with his fingertips.

“I think it’s time I take what I want,” you remind him.

You lean forward and kiss along his neck all the way up to his ear and he huffs out an impatient breath. Every muscle grows tight and urgent beneath your roaming hands as you tease him once more.

Faster than you expect, he grabs you by the hips and jerks you forward, sliding the wetness between your legs over his cock and griding up into you with a groan.

Without thinking, you move with him, rocking on top and feeling the hard press of him against your clit.

“I can feel your need for me soaked through the silk,” he hisses.

You tug the silk fabric from your body and let it drape over the large and elaborate seat. In a blur, he pulls you closer and pushes inside you with a steady, hard thrust.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, then stops, his breath choppy so close to your ear as he kisses your neck and sucks gently. “I can’t control myself.”

You open your mouth to speak but all the comes out is a moan when his large hand cups your breast, thumb passing back and forth over the peak.

His tongue slides over your collarbone, his breath, his fingertips across your skin and he begins to move inside you.

“You tease and taunt me wife…it’s impossible for me to let you play out this fantasy of control.”

A curl falls over his forehead and he looks almost boyish, but his words are coarse, and his movements are powerful.

���Next time I will bind you then,” you say, the words breathless.

He growls out your name, digging his fingers into your skin with his barely controlled restraint.

You feel the rush of blood to your legs and the heavy ache between your thighs build and he grows more and more frantic. He uses your hips for leverage, his grip bruising as he slams up and into you over and over.

One large, rough hand ghosts along your stomach and teases the base of your neck before his fingers close around your throat.

This new sensation brings you to the edge until you’re begging for it. His groan vibrates along your skin, his whispered words of love pushing you over until you tighten around his cock and cry out his name.

Your face falls to the crook of his neck, and he wraps his arms around you, cradling you to his chest. Your heavy breathing is in sync, your sweaty skin pressed close while he gently runs his fingers along the curve of your spine.

“I am sorry,” he whispers into your skin. “I know there has been much that keeps me away from you as of late.”

You lift your face and place your palm against his cheek. Your fingertips trace the lines around his eyes before you dip your head and softly kiss his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, and finally his lips.

“I know Marcus. I know.”

He reaches his hands between your arms and frames your face, holding your gaze intently with the soft brush of his fingers.

“My love for you remains and always will be as infinite as the stars.”

[flufftober]

🍀🍂 Hello and welcome to Flufftober's (first) Fluff Bingo 🍀🍂

In our poll, nearly 50% of you voted for a handful of bingo cards to fill the other half of the year with more fluff before we jump right back into the excitement that is Flufftober - and of course, we're here to deliver 😊

Find all the important info, more cards, and all the prompts in writing below the cut.

We hope you like this event and our prompts, and now

Happy Creating 🥳

🍀 Pick your card - we offer:

🍂 one card with 5x5 prompts (as seen at the top)

🍂 two cards with 3x3 prompts:

🍂 three themed cards with 1x5 prompts:

🍂 and as a bonus, a 3x3 card with tasks instead of prompts:

🍀 How does this work?

🍂 our standard blog rules apply and you'll find answers to most questions on our FAQ post

🍂 aside from that, you can go wild: fill these cards however you like, as quick or as slow as you like, as often as you like, and use as many of them as you like. We just want you to have fun 😊

🍂 if there are prompts on the bigger cards you don't like, feel free to use the 1x5 cards as alternate prompts and switch them out

🍂 download the cards and tick them off once you've finished a square; make a post for every square or only once you have a bingo or even a blackout - it's all up to you!

🍂 as with all our events, this one will never close, you can always use these cards. If you need a timeframe/deadline because (like me) you'll never finish otherwise, consider these loose goals:

finish until July 1st when we release the new Flufftober list

finish during October, maybe by combining some of these with the Flufftober prompts

finish until the end of the year so you're ready for whatever event we plan for next spring

🍀 What about tumblr reblogs and ao3?

🍂 tumblr reblogs will still happen but not daily as you're used to during Flufftober. It will strongly depend on how many posts there happen to be at a time and how the modmin team will have time. But as long as you mention us and/or use the tag (and follow the rules, obviously), reblogs will happen

🍂 please use the tag #fluffbingo

🍂 feel free to also add the general #flufftober tag

🍂 please make sure to clearly show the fandom, either in the first few tags or noticeably in the post

🍂 contrary to how we do it during Flufftober, we will only use four tags during reblogs this time: #fluffbingo #fluffreblog #[fandom] #[your user name] - that means we will not tag any ships, characters, or which prompt you're covering

🍂 on ao3, our collection for this event is Flufftober Fluff Bingo

Prompts

We're going left to right, top to bottom!

🍂 5x5 card

Fresh Start

To-Do List

Craft Fair

Creature AU

“This was a bad idea.”

Exploring Together

Plushie

Secret Signal

“You’ll love it.”

Late Night

Hidden (...)

“It’s just so much.”

Free Space

Fake Dating

Carnival

“You’re the best!”

Royal AU

Missing the Other

Never ever, ever

Rainbow

Hanahaki

Pep Talk

“I really mean it.”

Hoodie

Movie AU

🍂 3x3 card I

“Where do I start?”

Famous AU

Traveling the World Together

Enjoying a Lazy Day

Task: Write in a tense you usually don’t write/write less than another tense

“You said you had it handled!” - “Yeah, well, I lied.”

Birthday

“Hey, wait, that’s mine.”

Direction

🍂 3x3 card II

“You’re late!”

Hospital AU

Grocery Shopping Together

Going for a Walk

Task: Write from a POV you usually don’t write/write less than another POV

“Could you not do that, please?” - “Spoilsport.”

Sunshine

“I don’t know, you decide.”

Concert

🍂 1x5 card - Smiles

Secret Smile

Relieved Smile

Honest Smile

Devious Smile

Teary Smile

🍂 1x5 card - Hugs

Soothing Hug

Hug in Celebration

Sleepy Hug

Hug from behind

Desperate Hug

🍂 1x5 card - Kisses

Kiss on the Hand

Kiss to distract

Goodbye Kiss

Forhead Kiss

Kiss on the Cheek

🍂 3x3 card - Tasks

Finish your WIP

Sort all your Ideas and/or WIPs

Edit an entire Chapter or Oneshot

Outline a Story

Work on that hard Scene that is giving you so much trouble it is holding you back

Finish the next Chapter of your WIP

Join in a Writing Event (this card doesn’t count 😉 but the others do!)

Finish a Oneshot

Dig out an old Draft and work on it

Have Fun and Go Wild 🥳

[eyra]

stuff what I have learnt about writing good

If you've followed me for longer than two minutes then you'll likely know (because I keep going on about it) that I've been working on a novel for the past year. It's always been a dream of mine to write and publish a book and whilst I still have a long way to go before I can even start thinking about querying (whether on this book, or the next, or the next, etc.) I suppose I can now say that a book Exists. I have written A Book.

Now whether or not that book ever sees the light of day, the process of writing it has been truly eye-opening. I went in knowing virtually nothing and came out, still with a huge amount to learn, but with a whole library of tools that I didn't have before. I'm now putting these to use with the first draft of my second book and already the process feels so much more enjoyable, because I've started to figure out how to make it work for me.

I wanted to jot down what I've learnt purely for my own reference so I can keep looking back and reminding myself what worked for me first time around, but given that I get a nice number of asks picking my brain about my own writing process, I thought I might as well share all this with you lot in case there's anyone out there who finds it useful!

So here are the big things that I've learnt so far...

1. Not every trick works for every writer

This has been, by far, my biggest learning. Starting to plan a novel for me felt SO overwhelming - I felt like I was bombarded on all sides with "this is how to write a novel" content, and it felt like there was just too much to learn and like I would never find my way through it. I spent weeks (months...) doing every worksheet, every outlining method, every chart, anything I could get my hands on. Some of them, by the end, proved themselves very useful. A lot of them didn't. There are thousands of voices online that are telling you "this is the right way to write a book" or even "this is the ONLY way to write a book" - don't listen to them. Try things, but don't feel like you have to fit yourself into every single box. Just find the things that work for you.

2. It's possible to overplan

On a related note - sometimes you just need to start writing. I spent WAY TOO LONG faffing about before I put pen to paper with my first book. So, so long planning out characters and plot points, a lot of which I then had to completely reimagine mid-draft because I realised they just didn't work anymore. In hindsight, some of this was down to me being scared to actually start writing - the planning stage was a bit of a comfort zone for me, despite not naturally being a plotter/architect - I have always always always been a pantser/gardener, but I got sucked into the whole "proper authors do it THIS way" narrative.

With my second novel, I did a nice amount of planning but then just bit the bullet and started drafting. I know where my story begins, ends, what my major themes are, I know all my main characters and I know my key plot points. The rest, I'm figuring out as I draft. If nothing else - I'm having a lot more fun this time around.

3. Think about voice and tense before drafting

Yeah duh obvious right? NOT TO ME. If you were following me around April time, you may have witnessed a series of minor breakdowns when I realised that, having written a whole first draft in third person present tense, the entire book should actually have been written in first person past tense. So that meant, basically, starting over from scratch. This was a big learning for me, and not a mistake I'm likely to make again.

4. Stop looking at your word count

For someone who's never really put much thought into word count before - my approach with fanfiction has already been "it'll be as long as it'll be" - I got OBSESSED with the word count of my first couple of drafts. A lot of people will tell you that any good novel "has to be" under 100k words. I constantly see this one post on Pinterest that says "I promise you that you can tell the story you want to tell in 100k words or under." I'm definitely no expert on this (and I'll eat my words when an agent tells me my manuscript needs cutting down), but I'm sceptical - a lot of stories can and should be under 100k words, sure, but most of my favourite books are much longer than this. However, I did get stuck in a "this manuscript has to be between 70k and 100k words" mindset and felt like a failure whenever it was sitting outside of that bracket. Also - keep your genre in mind. If you're writing a rom-com, 70k could work perfectly. If you're writing fantasy, you're probably going to go over that.

5. Know whether you're an overwriter or an underwriter

And related to the above - know whether you tend to write bare bones-style then add to it, or whether you tend to dump it all on the page then cut back later. I'm the first, and I knew this, but I still panicked when my first draft was only around 70k. I felt like it was rushing through the plot at an unreasonable pace and it didn't feel "finished". This was because it was a first draft. By the time I sent my manuscript to my beta reader, it was around 126k.

6. The dumb stuff works

The title of the document for my first draft was "XXX - worst possible version" and at multiple points during the drafting process I changed the font to Comic Sans size 48. It works. Completely takes the pressure off and gives you full permission to write big, write silly, write unhinged, write mad things that you'll cut back by 90% later. But it gets it all on the page. If you're stuck or cringing at yourself in Times New Roman size 12, try Comic Sans size 48.

7. Don't compare your first draft to your favourite book

Like an idiot, I did this. I still find myself doing it. It's possibly my worst writing habit. I'll type out a page at 11pm after a full day at work and no dinner and then I'll pick up a published book and think "ah man, the page I've just written is nowhere NEAR as good as this." Published books are fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh drafts that then go through months and months of editing. Do not compare your manuscript to a published book. Just don't do it.

8. Don't try to be That Author

Good writers are good readers. Absolutely read broadly, read deeply, just read. Fiction, non-fiction, poetry, everything. And it's fine to find yourself influenced by other writers - that's how writing works. But don't try to BE other writers. One of the issues I had to unpick last year was that I was reading a lot of authors whose writing styles are very different to my own. I know my own style fairly well by this point - fanfiction's a great sandbox for figuring that out - but at certain moments during my editing phases I found myself cutting away at my prose because it felt "too different" to the books I was reading at the time. This was a weird thing for me to have done, and I went back and fixed it later.

I think what I'm trying to say with this one is: take inspiration from everywhere, let yourself be influenced by different writing styles, but find your own voice and trust it. Literature already has a Sally Rooney and a Donna Tartt and a Leigh Bardugo. It doesn't need a clone - it needs you!

I'll finish by sharing what I've found to be the most useful plotting template. This obviously isn't the total extent of my planning process by any means, but after trying about a million different plotting techniques for my first manuscript, this is the one:

The 27 chapter method (more examples here)

And finally, two little character tricks that I find invaluable:

AITAH?

Character philosophy

I hope someone out there finds something useful in this post! Although I've been writing in some capacity since I was a teenager, 2024 was definitely the year I realised that I am a writer at my core. I want to be a published author, but I'm already a writer. It brings me happiness like nothing else in the world! And I love to talk about all aspects of writing, so my ask box is always very much open.

Happy scribbling! x

[fr0stf4ll]

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 8

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 6k

Trigger warning; //

notes; Yooo, hope that everyone is doing well ! New chapter and with a bunch of interactions (finally...) hihi. This weekend I'm trying to write as much as I can because I'm starting my apprenticeship on monday and knowing myself the only thing I will be able to do at home is sleep duh. Btw I'm supper happy to read you guys's comments on the last post I hope that you liked the previous parts. Well see you all soon. bisous bisous <333

Link; Part 7 or Part 9

Breathing deeply, you sank into the worn chair at your desk, a rare moment of stillness washing over you. The clinic was quiet for now, the hum of activity replaced by the distant murmur of Velaris’ Solstice celebrations. For the first time in weeks, you felt the weight on your shoulders ease, even if just slightly.

Earlier in the evening, as the streets had begun to fill with laughter and light, Elira had paused at the door before leaving for her own celebrations. She had lingered, shifting her weight nervously before finally speaking.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay tonight?” she had asked, her voice tinged with worry. “I don’t mind helping, even if it’s just for a while.”

You’d given her a soft smile, appreciating the concern in her wide eyes. “Elira, it’s Solstice. Go enjoy it. I can manage things here,” you’d reassured her, though you knew she wasn’t entirely convinced.

“But if you need anything—anything at all,” she pressed, her tone firm despite the slight tremble in her voice, “just send for me. I’ll come straight back.”

You’d chuckled lightly, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine. The cases tonight are likely to be minor—besides, you deserve to celebrate.”

Her smile had been hesitant, but she’d finally nodded, squeezing your hand briefly before stepping out into the bustling streets. Watching her go, you’d felt a pang of affection for the younger healer. She was learning quickly, but more than that, she cared.

Now, hours later, the streets of Velaris glimmered with festive charm. Strings of lights adorned every shop and home, and bursts of laughter echoed through the crisp winter air. The celebration’s warmth was palpable, even from the confines of the clinic. It was a stark contrast to the sterile quiet inside, where you had just finished stitching up a young boy who’d split his palm open while playing too close to a sharp edge. He’d been brave, though, and you’d sent him off with a small packet of sweets you kept for such occasions.

You exhaled and picked up your mug of coffee, savoring the warmth that spread through your hands. The clinic remained calm, as you had hoped, with only minor injuries coming through—nothing unexpected for a night like this.

The files on your desk called to you, and you opened the leather-bound notebook where you’d been outlining the major questions for the Dawn meeting. The room was quiet except for the scratch of your quill and the occasional distant crackle of laughter from the streets outside. The moonlight streaming through the window painted everything in a soft glow, and for a moment, the work felt less heavy, almost meditative.

After jotting down the last of your thoughts on the meeting agenda, you turned to the stack of parchment Madja had left for you before her retirement. The pages were filled with detailed notes on injuries and conditions she had encountered during her centuries of practice. Among them was a folder marked with the priestesses’ seal, its edges worn from years of handling.

Curiosity tugged at you as you flipped it open, revealing notes on rare conditions and ancient healing methods that had once been housed exclusively in the library. Some of the practices were ones you’d only heard of in passing, their descriptions invoking both fascination and a sense of awe for the healers who had come before you.

You made a mental note to consult with the priestesses in the coming weeks. Their knowledge would be invaluable for refining some of the techniques you were considering introducing to the clinic and possibly even the broader healing network across Prythian.

With a soft sigh, you leaned back in your chair, gazing at the notes scattered before you. It was moments like these that reminded you why you had chosen this path, despite its challenges. Healing wasn’t just about mending wounds or curing illnesses—it was about preserving hope, ensuring that even in the darkest times, there was light to guide people forward.

You took another sip of your coffee, letting the warmth settle in your chest. There was still so much to do, but for now, the night was calm, and that was enough.

The faint sound of the door creaking open pulled you from your thoughts, the familiar weight of responsibility snapping back into place. Setting down your mug, you rose quickly, your heart skipping at the possibility of an emergency. You moved through the clinic’s quiet halls, your steps soft yet purposeful, and turned the corner into the reception area.

The sight that greeted you stopped you in your tracks. Azriel stood just inside the doorway, his tall frame illuminated by the dim lanterns still lit for the night. His wings were tucked tightly against his back, and though he tried to maintain his usual calm demeanor, something about him seemed... off. His shadows swirled slower than usual, as if sensing his hesitation.

“Azriel?” you asked softly, concern

The night air was biting as Azriel soared through the skies above Velaris, his mind a whirlwind of emotions he couldn’t quite sort. He had nearly kissed Elain. Nearly. But the space between them had been filled with too much doubt, too much tension, and then Rhys had found him.

And his High Lord had been merciless.

"If you need a woman so badly, Azriel, then go to a brothel. Don’t ruin someone’s life just because you can’t control yourself."

The words echoed in his head, each syllable sharper than the winds cutting through his skin. He knew Rhys was furious—and Rhys wasn’t wrong—but that didn’t soften the sting. He had left, unable to bear another moment of the suffocating tension in the House of Wind. Flying aimlessly, he let the cool air whip around him, carrying him away from his thoughts.

But the wind had a mind of its own, or so it seemed. It brought him to the clinic. His landing was quiet, deliberate, and before he could think better of it, he had pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The sight of you, moving purposefully through the quiet clinic, tugged at something deep inside him. When you spotted him, your expression shifted instantly from focus to concern.

“Azriel?” Your voice was soft, laced with genuine worry. “Are you alright? What are you doing here?”

He froze, his usual composure crumbling under the weight of your gaze. He tried to find the words, but they escaped him. All he could manage was a faint, “I’m fine.”

But you weren’t convinced. He could see the worry etched in your expression as you stepped closer, studying him as though he might fall apart at any moment. Before he could say anything else, you motioned toward one of the chairs in the small waiting area.

“Sit,” you said gently, your tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll make you something.”

He obeyed, sinking into the chair as though the weight of the world had finally caught up to him. He watched as you moved with practiced ease, preparing an infusion of herbs. The warmth of the cup pressed into his hands moments later was soothing in a way he hadn’t expected.

“It’s a mix of herbs,” you explained, your voice steady and reassuring. “Nothing fancy, just something to help calm you down.”

He nodded, taking a small sip. The warmth spread through him, dulling the edge of his frayed nerves.

“I need to check on a patient,” you said softly, already moving toward one of the rooms. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Azriel watched as you disappeared down the hallway, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He stared into the cup in his hands, the steam curling upward like shadows of his own making. He didn’t know why he had come here, to you, of all people. But now that he was here, he felt... grounded.

In the patient’s room, you checked on the man with Greyscale. He was still asleep, his condition stable, much to your relief. You took a moment to breathe, steadying yourself. You hadn’t expected Azriel to show up tonight, of all nights, and his presence was unsettling in a way you couldn’t quite define. Not unwelcome, but certainly unexpected.

When you returned to the waiting area, he was still there, lost in thought. You settled into the seat next to him, picking up the files you’d been working on earlier. The silence between you was comfortable, a shared quiet that didn’t demand anything from either of you. Gradually, you felt him relax, the tension easing from his posture.

Azriel broke the silence first, his voice low. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing here?”

You didn’t look up from your papers. “The clinic isn’t just for people who are bleeding or on the edge of death,” you said calmly. “It’s also for people who need a moment for themselves, or someone to listen. I’m not here to force anything.” You reached out, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder. A faint shiver coursed through you at the contact, but you ignored it. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here. If you don’t, that’s fine too. No pressure.” You ended with a soft wink, your tone light but sincere.

He stared at you, a faint trace of disbelief in his eyes. Rarely had he felt this peaceful around anyone. There was something about you—your presence, your calm, the quiet way you offered him solace without demanding anything in return. It was as though the chaos inside him stilled when he was near you.

For the first time in what felt like ages, Azriel let himself lean back in the chair, his grip on the cup loosening as the warmth seeped into his skin. Quiet, but profound, the moment stretched between you, offering him the calm he hadn’t realized he so desperately needed.

Azriel’s voice broke through the quiet, hesitant at first but gaining strength as he began to speak. He told you what had happened at the dinner, the almost-kiss with Elain, and Rhysand’s harsh words that had followed. As he spoke, his shadows swirled subtly around him, betraying the tension he still held onto.

You listened, your expression calm and steady, though the compassion in your eyes was unmistakable. You didn’t interrupt or react too strongly, simply letting him unravel his thoughts. When he finally stopped, his gaze drifted to you, waiting for... something. A reaction, perhaps, or judgment.

“What do you think?” he asked quietly, his voice tinged with something you hadn’t expected—uncertainty.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What do I think?” you echoed softly, setting the papers in your lap aside. “I think...” You trailed off, studying him for a moment before speaking again, carefully choosing your words. “I think what Rhysand said was wrong. Definitely wrong.”

Azriel’s head tilted slightly, his brow furrowing as if he couldn’t quite believe your words.

You continued, your tone steady but kind. “You’re no such male as he implied. I might not know everything about your life, but from what I’ve seen—and the brief moments we’ve shared—you’re worthy of so much more than what you’ve been made to feel tonight.”

His shadows stilled for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

You shifted slightly, leaning forward just enough to hold his gaze more directly. “As for Rhysand,” you added, your voice softer now, “I don’t think he meant to hurt you. People say mean things when they’re angry. That doesn’t make it right, but it also doesn’t mean he truly believes what he said. Sometimes emotions get the better of us, and we lash out.”

Azriel stared at you, his expression unreadable, but there was a faint glimmer of something in his eyes—gratitude, perhaps, or relief.

“Let it go for a moment,” you suggested, your tone gentle but firm. “Not forever, just... for now. Give yourself time to process, to breathe. Don’t let it weigh you down.”

He was quiet for a long time, staring down at the cup of now-cooling infusion in his hands. Finally, he nodded, almost imperceptibly, as though he was only just allowing himself to consider your words.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice low but sincere.

You offered him a small, reassuring smile. “No need to thank me. Just... don’t be too hard on yourself, Azriel. You deserve better than that.”

For the first time that night, he let out a slow, deep breath, as if some of the weight he carried had finally begun to lift.

Azriel stared into his cup, your words still echoing in his mind. The way you spoke—calm, measured, but full of unwavering certainty—was unlike anything he was used to. He hadn’t expected such kindness, nor had he realized how much he’d needed to hear those words: that he was worthy, that he wasn’t defined by the anger and disappointment he carried.

The silence between you stretched on, but it wasn’t heavy or uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that allowed thoughts to settle, emotions to ease. You had returned to your work, glancing at the papers spread across your lap while he tried to untangle the mess inside his head.

After a moment, he glanced up, catching sight of the faint lines of fatigue etched into your face. You were clearly exhausted, but you didn’t let it show—not fully, at least. There was strength in the way you carried yourself, a resilience that both impressed and unnerved him.

Azriel finally broke the silence, his voice low. “What about Elain?”

You froze for just a heartbeat, your hand hovering over the edge of a page before lowering it to your lap. There was no judgment in your gaze when you turned to look at him, but he could see the hesitation there, the careful consideration before you answered.

“Don’t get mad at me,” you began, your voice steady but cautious, “but this is just my opinion.”

Azriel’s shadows curled tighter, though he gave no outward reaction. He waited, letting you gather your thoughts.

He didn’t say anything, his expression unreadable, so you continued. “After I left the Night Court, I was in the Dawn Court for a while. I wasn’t doing well at the time, but I eventually started dating a male there. Things were great for a while—he helped me a lot, pulled me out of a dark place.” You paused, a faint smile tugging at your lips as you remembered those early days. “After about six years of dating, he proposed.”

Azriel’s eyebrows shot up, his surprise evident. “And?”

“I said no,” you replied simply, earning a look of shock that quickly morphed into confusion. “A few months before, one of my friends came to me and told me they had discovered he was their mate.”

Azriel’s expression hardened, a mix of anger and disbelief flashing across his face. “So you left the person you loved because they had a mate? Even when you knew you were together first?”

“Yes,” you said, meeting his incredulous gaze. “Even though I loved him. I didn’t want to be stuck in one court—I knew I wanted to travel, to see more of the world. And more importantly, I knew that his mate would bring him feelings and a love that I could never give him. No matter how much he cared for me, a mating bond is... something else.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his shadows curling tighter around him. “Did you regret your choice?”

You took a deep breath, your voice steady but heavy with the weight of honesty. “It was hard. Don’t think for a second that it was a choice I took lightly. When I left, I didn’t explain why. It wasn’t my place to tell him he had a mate. Maybe that makes me a bitch—I don’t know. But I left, and two years later, I was invited to their mating ceremony.”

Azriel’s eyes widened slightly at your words, but he didn’t interrupt.

“We talked about it afterward,” you added. “And while it wasn’t easy, we’ve remained close friends to this day. I don’t regret my choice, because I knew it was the right thing to do—for him, for his mate, and for me.”

Azriel’s expression darkened, a flash of frustration crossing his face. “I’m tired of suffering and listening to what everyone tells me to do,” he said, his voice low but sharp. “Why should I have to keep making the hard choices? Why does it always have to be me?”

You frowned, leaning forward slightly. “You asked for my opinion, Azriel,” you said firmly. “If you don’t like it, that’s not my fault. But I’ve been in your position. I made the hard choice because I knew it was what needed to be done.”

"My whole life i’ve tried to put people’s needs above mine, it felt natural. But now I… I don’t fucking know.” He took a short breath. “I’m so, so tired of everyone judging the single things I tried to do for me. And maybe for you leaving your male was what you thought was right but… she doesn’t love him, she doesn’t want their bond or whatever it is. Rhysand has Feyre, Cassian has Nesta, why did I didn’t get to have Elain…” He was looking at you with a sort of rage deep inside his eyes. 

You swalloed hardly and not a word could go out of your mouth. Before any other word could be spoken, the sound of the clinic door opening interrupted the tense atmosphere. Both of you turned to see a family entering—a couple with a small child cradled in their arms. The child’s cheeks were flushed with fever, their body trembling slightly as they clung to their parent.

“Please,” the mother said, her voice trembling with worry, “Our child has a high fever. Can you help?”

You stood immediately, your own exhaustion forgotten in the face of their need. “Of course,” you said, your voice calm and reassuring. Turning to Azriel, you gave him a brief, pointed look. “We’ll finish this conversation later.”

Without waiting for a response, you moved to the family, already assessing the child’s condition as you led them to an examination room. Azriel watched you go, his shadows swirling around him in agitation. For a moment, he considered leaving—but something held him there, tethered to the clinic and the healer who had just challenged everything he thought he knew.

You gestured for Azriel to head upstairs, your voice steady but kind. “Go to my apartment, it’s just up there. I’ll join you after I’m done.”

Azriel hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to argue, but then he let out a long sigh and nodded. Without another word, he turned and made his way up the narrow staircase.

Once inside your apartment, the tension that had gripped him earlier didn’t loosen. Instead, it seemed to settle in deeper, coiling in his chest. He was mad—at the situation, at Rhysand, at himself. Most of all, he was furious with how he had reacted to you. You’d shared something deeply personal, offered him insight from your own life, and what had he done? Snapped at you like a petulant child.

Azriel dragged a hand down his face, his shadows swirling restlessly around him as he tried to push the regret aside. He knew he’d handled the conversation poorly, but the weight of everything—Elain, Rhysand, his own insecurities—had left him unraveling at the seams.

The soft rustling of feathers broke through his thoughts. Azriel looked up and found Ydle perched on the back of a chair, staring at him with what could only be described as birdlike curiosity.

The golden eagle tilted its head, its sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if assessing this stranger in its space. Azriel’s shadows, ever mischievous, reached out tentatively toward the bird, curling around its feet and wings. Ydle, not one to back down from a challenge, hopped off the chair and began chasing the shadows, snapping at them playfully.

For the first time that evening, Azriel cracked a small smile. The sight of the majestic bird hopping around your apartment like an oversized chick was ridiculous, and yet, strangely comforting. He let the shadows dance just out of Ydle’s reach, amused by the way the bird flapped its wings in mock frustration.

After a few minutes, Ydle seemed to tire of the game, retreating to its perch with a soft trill of satisfaction. Azriel sank into your couch, the faint remnants of his smile fading as his thoughts returned to the mess of emotions swirling inside him. His gaze wandered around the room, taking in the small touches that spoke of your presence—the neat stack of books on the side table, the soft blanket draped over the arm of the couch, the faint scent of herbs lingering in the air.

Despite himself, Azriel felt a strange sense of calm settle over him. This space felt like you: steady, warm, and unyieldingly resilient. For a moment, he allowed himself to simply exist there, surrounded by the essence of someone who, even in the face of his frustration and anger, had shown him nothing but patience and understanding.

But the regret remained. He had lashed out when all you had tried to do was help, and now, sitting in your apartment with nothing but his thoughts for company, he knew he owed you an apology.

Azriel leaned back against the couch, his shadows curling around him like a protective cocoon. He could hear your voice downstairs, soft and measured as you reassured the worried family who had come into the clinic. He didn’t know how he would find the words to make things right, but he knew one thing for certain: he would try. You deserved that much, and more.

For now, though, he waited, letting the quiet of your space soothe the storm within him.

The clinic had finally quieted after a small rush of patients, leaving you feeling worn and drained. It had been an exhausting night, but your mind lingered on the thought of Azriel waiting upstairs. After ensuring everything was in order, you climbed the stairs to your apartment, unsure of what to expect.

As you entered, the sight before you stopped you in your tracks. Azriel was fast asleep on your couch, his head resting lightly on the armrest, one hand draped over his stomach. His usually tense features were softened by sleep, the faintest crease between his brows still lingering as though even in dreams, the weight of his burdens followed him.

For a moment, you just stood there, taking in the sight of the infamous Spymaster in such an unguarded state. It was strange, almost disarming, to see him like this. You grabbed a thick blanket from the armchair and quietly approached, draping it gently over him. He barely stirred as you did so, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly under your breath.

“Surprising for a spymaster,” you murmured, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

Your gaze lingered on him, and an ache spread through your chest. He looked peaceful now, but you knew the turmoil he carried—the confusion and pain that had led him here tonight. And there, in his slumber, he still wore the invisible chains of everything weighing him down: Elain, Rhysand, and perhaps even the bond you knew existed between you.

No matter how hard you tried to ignore it, Azriel had a way of reminding you of its presence. Of him. Always there, always visible, but just out of reach. Attached to someone else in a way that made your heart twist painfully, even as you told yourself it wasn’t your place to feel that way.

Movement caught your eye, pulling your focus to the side of the room. Ydle, your loyal bird, was curled up near Azriel’s feet, his feathers tangling gently with the spymaster’s shadows. The sight made you smile, a flicker of warmth in the midst of your stormy thoughts. Trusting shadows and a loyal bird, both at ease in each other’s company—it was oddly poetic.

You straightened, glancing toward the window. The faint glow of dawn was beginning to peek through the curtains, painting the room in soft hues of gold and pink. The quiet serenity of the moment wrapped around you, and for a heartbeat, you let yourself sink into it.

But there was work to do. Always work to do.

With a quiet sigh, you turned and left the apartment, careful not to disturb Azriel or Ydle. The clinic was bathed in the soft light of morning as you descended the stairs, the hum of Velaris beginning to stir outside. It was a new day, and despite your fatigue, you were ready to face it.

Azriel’s eyes opened slowly, the soft morning light filtering into the room causing him to squint. His body felt stiff, his wings sore from being crammed into the corner of your couch. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the surroundings, and realized where he was. The scent of herbs and warmth of your apartment grounded him.

His gaze landed on you, standing on the small balcony with your back to him, overlooking Velaris. The sunlight framed you in a golden halo, your relaxed posture a stark contrast to the tension he often saw in others. You turned, catching the movement out of the corner of your eye, and smiled warmly at him.

“Hello, sleeping beauty,” you teased, your voice light with humor. “Sorry, I don’t think my couch is made for wings.”

Azriel let out a soft huff of amusement, rolling his shoulders to loosen the ache. “I noticed,” he murmured, his voice still rough from sleep.

You crossed the room and handed him a cup of tea, the steam curling lazily upward. “Here,” you said, your tone gentler now. “This will help with the soreness.”

He accepted it, wrapping his hands around the warm cup as he muttered a quiet, “Thank you.”

You gestured toward a small table in the corner of the room where an assortment of pastries and fruits had been laid out. “One of my healers dropped these off earlier,” you explained. “Feel free to eat something. I didn’t prepare it, so it doesn’t count as me playing host.”

Azriel’s lips quirked into a small, reluctant smile. “Noted,” he replied, his shadows curling faintly around him, still sluggish from his rest.

You leaned lightly against the edge of the couch, watching as he took a cautious sip of the tea. The quiet between you was comfortable, the sounds of the waking city below filtering in through the open balcony door. For a moment, it felt as though the weight of the world beyond your walls had lifted, leaving only this shared stillness.

Azriel’s gaze dropped to the steaming tea in his hands as if it held the words he was struggling to say. After a moment of silence, he spoke, his voice low and hesitant. “About last night… I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. You were only trying to help, and I—” He stopped, his jaw tightening as he searched for the right words. “I took my frustration out on you. It wasn’t fair.”

You shook your head lightly, offering him a small, reassuring smile. “Azriel, don’t worry about it,” you said, your tone calm but kind. “You were on edge. We all say things we don’t mean when emotions run high. I didn’t take it personally.”

His wings shifted slightly, the leather rustling as he sat up straighter. “But you should have,” he said firmly, meeting your eyes now. “You didn’t deserve that. You were sharing something deeply personal, and I threw it back in your face. That’s not... that’s not who I want to be.”

You tilted your head, considering him for a moment before replying. “Azriel, I understand where it came from. You’re carrying a lot—more than most can even imagine. And honestly, I think you’ve been holding it all in for too long.”

His shadows rippled faintly, curling around his chair before settling again. He let out a soft sigh, his gaze distant. “That’s no excuse. I shouldn’t let what’s going on with... everything affect how I treat others—especially you. You’ve been nothing but kind and honest with me.”

You crossed your arms lightly, leaning against the couch. “I’m not saying it’s an excuse,” you admitted. “But it is an explanation. You’re human—or, well, as close as any of us can get,” you added with a small smirk, earning a faint chuckle from him. “And you’re allowed to feel overwhelmed, frustrated, even angry. But you need to learn how to let it out in a healthier way.”

Azriel’s eyes searched yours, as if weighing your words carefully. “I’ve spent so long keeping everything bottled up,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “Sometimes it feels like if I let one thing out, everything will come pouring out, and I won’t be able to stop it.”

You nodded slowly, your expression softening. “I get that,” you said. “Believe me, I do. But carrying all of that alone will only weigh you down more. It’s okay to let people in, Azriel. To lean on them when you need to.”

He ran a hand through his dark hair, the shadows around him flickering faintly. “I don’t even know where to start.”

You smiled gently, placing a hand on the back of his chair. “Start with the small things,” you suggested. “Like this—being honest, talking it out. It doesn’t have to be perfect, and it doesn’t have to happen all at once.”

Azriel looked at you, his expression softer now, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice sincere. “For listening. For not giving up on me, even when I make it hard.”

You straightened, brushing off his gratitude with a light shrug. “I’m a healer,” you said simply. “Fixing people—even the stubborn ones—is kind of my job.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, and for the first time that morning, the shadows around him seemed less restless. “You’re not just a healer,” he said softly, almost to himself. “You’re... more than that.”

The way he said it, the weight of his words, left you momentarily speechless. But instead of lingering on it, you returned his smile and gestured toward the breakfast spread. “Well, let’s see if you can be fixed with some food. Go on—eat something. You look like you haven’t had a decent meal in days.”

Azriel chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re relentless.”

“And you’re lucky I am,” you shot back, moving toward your desk to give him a moment to collect himself.

You went back downstairs, leaving Azriel upstairs to gather his thoughts while you prepared to welcome the healers who had arrived to replace you. The moment they stepped inside, you greeted them warmly, exchanging a few pleasantries and updating them on the clinic’s current status. The little chitchat helped ease the weight of the long night, and their presence brought a sense of relief—knowing that the clinic was in capable hands for the rest of the day.

In the meantime, Azriel came down the stairs, his steps slow but purposeful. He paused briefly, his gaze meeting yours. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low but sincere. Without waiting for a reply, he turned and made his way out of the clinic, his wings tucked close to his body.

Once the door closed behind him, you let out a quiet sigh, the exhaustion from the long night finally catching up with you. With the clinic in safe hands, you allowed yourself the rare luxury of retreating upstairs. The moment your head hit the pillow, sleep claimed you, pulling you into the deep rest you so desperately needed.

Azriel made his way back to the House of Wind as dawn broke over Velaris. He hadn’t joined Rhysand and the others for their annual day away from the city—something he never missed. But after last night, the idea of spending the day in their company felt... unbearable.

He arrived at the grand estate, its imposing yet familiar presence looming against the soft hues of the rising sun. The place was silent, save for the faint whistle of the mountain wind. Either the others were still asleep, or they had already left. The solitude suited him just fine.

Still clad in the attire he’d worn for Starfall—a tailored dark jacket with intricate silver embroidery and a deep teal shirt beneath—Azriel felt out of place. His clothes spoke of celebration, but his heart carried only turmoil. The silence of the House of Wind wrapped around him as he stepped inside, his boots echoing faintly against the stone floors.

He made his way straight to his chambers, his steps slow and heavy. The elegant finery he wore felt stifling now, a stark contrast to the state of his mind. Once inside his room, he closed the door with a soft click, the quiet cocooning him further. He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto a nearby chair, and unbuttoned his shirt with quick, impatient fingers. The fabric fell away, revealing scars and tension etched into his skin. Changing into something simpler—a loose tunic and comfortable trousers—he felt a fraction lighter.

Azriel let himself collapse onto the bed, lying flat with his wings spread out behind him. His mind raced, replaying the events of the previous night: Elain, the almost-kiss, Rhysand’s harsh words, and then... you. The memory of you calmly standing in your clinic, handling everything with a quiet grace that both impressed and unsettled him, lingered in his thoughts.

He hadn’t even known why he’d ended up at the clinic, but the moment he saw your concerned expression, a part of him had felt... anchored. And yet, he’d acted like a fool, lashing out when all you’d done was listen. Now, as the early light filtered through his curtains, he couldn’t shake the gnawing sense of regret.

A knock at his door pulled him from his thoughts. He frowned, reluctant to face anyone just yet, but forced himself to his feet. When he opened the door, he was met with Rhysand’s unmistakable presence.

“What do you want?” Azriel’s tone was flat, his face impassive.

Rhysand hesitated for a moment, his expression unusually somber. “Brother,” he said quietly, “I came to apologize for last night.”

Azriel leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. “It doesn’t matter, High Lord,” he replied, his voice cold and sharp. “I should have just listened to you.”

Rhysand flinched at the use of his title, the regret in his violet eyes deepening. “Azriel, don’t do this. I didn’t mean what I said.”

Azriel scoffed, his lips curling into a bitter smirk. “Didn’t you? You seemed pretty certain when you said it.”

Rhysand sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I was angry, Az. That doesn’t make it right, but—”

“No, it doesn’t,” Azriel cut him off, his tone icy. “But it doesn’t change anything either.”

For a moment, Rhysand looked like he might argue, but then he seemed to deflate slightly. “Where did you go last night?”

“Does it matter to you where I went?” Azriel asked, his voice low and dangerous. “Maybe I went to a brothel, like you suggested. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Rhysand’s eyes widened, guilt flashing across his face. “Azriel, I—”

“Save it,” Azriel said, stepping back into his room. “Go enjoy your little day away, Rhys. But leave me out of it.”

With that, he closed the door firmly, the sound echoing in the quiet hall. He leaned back against the wood, exhaling a shaky breath. For the first time in a long while, Azriel allowed himself to admit how deeply his emotions had unraveled.

He moved back to the bed, collapsing onto the mattress with a weary sigh. His thoughts drifted back to you—your steady presence, your unwavering calm. For a moment, he let himself cling to the memory, wishing he could hold onto that fleeting sense of peace.

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[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Time to bloom

Written for round one of the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Spring and Mutual Pining

Rated: T

Words: 2,348 [also on AO3]

Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy; Alternate Universe - Soulmates; Half-elf Eddie; Bard Eddie; Paladin Steve; Mutual pining; Getting together; First kiss; Fluff; Idiots in love

Notes: Today's challenge over at @st-loveconfessions was to write a ficlet inspired by an artwork, and I immediately thought of this beautiful fanart by @starthecozy. I know you like my fantasy AUs, so I hope that this one will make bring a smile to your face! ❤️💐

“So, what's the plan?” 

Steve looks up from the ale he's been sipping for the past hour or so to find Robin walking into the tavern. As she slides onto the barstool next to his, her eyes flick from his face to the colorful bouquet of spring flowers sitting next to his glass. 

“Are you actually going to go out there and give them to him? Or are you gonna let them wilt again?” 

“Shut up,” Steve grumbles. He knows she won't, and she knows he knows it, but she also knows it's not really her he's annoyed with. “I'm getting to it. I'm having a drink before I go, that's all.” 

She gives him a look. 

“Dingus,” she says. “For the past week and a half, you've picked a fresh bouquet every day, and then you keep finding excuses as to why you can't go and give it to him. Your rooms are starting to look like a flower shop and I think Mrs Henderson's sheep and Hopper’s horse have been conspiring to murder you for stealing their food. And quite frankly, if I need to keep watching the two of you dance around each other for a little longer, I might join them.” 

Steve chews on his bottom lip while she snatches his glass and drains it in three long gulps. 

“This is fucking embarrassing, huh?” he mutters. “I'm a damn paladin for heaven's sake. I've slain monsters and fought dark wizards and saved the realm from darkness, and here I am, unable to bring myself to tell that stupid, pretty, loud-mouthed bard I lo- … ugh.” 

He trails off, propping his elbows up on the bar and hiding his head in his hands. 

“I can't even say it in here. I'm so pathetic.” 

A hand grabs his right wrist, gently prying his hand from his face. 

“There's nothing pathetic about being scared.” Her finger traces the outline of the bird-shaped mark on his wrist, and instantly, he can feel himself growing more calm. “For the record, though, I don't think that you have any reason to be. He's as gone for you as you are for him.” 

Steve scoffs weakly. “Yeah, I doubt that. I'm not even his soulmate, so-” 

“You don't know that,” she says. “It's not unheard of for people to have two, or more even. It's entirely possible that you are and your marks just haven't manifested yet.” 

Steve gives her a look. “We've fought side by side. He saved my life on at least three different occasions, and I his. I think we'd know by now if- hey, what the hell?” 

“Not all soul bonds are forged in the fires of battle like ours.” She lowers the hand she just flicked his forehead with, picking up the bouquet and pressing it into his hands. “Sometimes, they need time to bloom. Now go to him.” 

*

He doesn't need to search long. The melody floating over the hill behind the tavern tells him exactly where he needs to go. 

Eddie is sitting cross-legged in the crisp spring grass, plucking away on his lute and singing softly in his mother's tongue. His hair is down, dark curls moving softly in the warm breeze, revealing the tips of his pointed ears every now and then. Steve stands transfixed and watches him, thinking back on how closed-off and guarded Eddie was when they first met. How he used to hide his ears under cowls and hats, always scared to reveal his heritage. How far they've come since then. It makes a familiar, fuzzy warmth spread behind his collarbone. 

And that's when Eddie looks up and sees him standing on top of the hill.

“Well, look who it is,” he greets, face splitting into that wide, toothy grin that makes Steve’s hand clench tighter around the bouquet and sends his stomach into weird little somersaults. “Haven’t seen you around in days. What earns me the pleasure of your presence?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Steve grumbles, forcing his wobbly legs to walk closer. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy, he says.” Eddie rolls his pretty eyes, putting the lute aside and gesturing for Steve to join him in the grass. His voice still has the soft, melodic lilt to it that’s always more pronounced when he’s just switched out of the elven language. Steve thinks he could listen to it for hours and not get tired of it. “The sun is bright and warm in the sky, the birds are singing, and spring is in the air, but his Lordship is busy. Why must you humans always be so dreadfully serious?”

Steve rolls his eyes, plopping down into the pleasantly cool grass. “Well, we can’t all laze around and make music all day. Someone has to make sure the place is running smoothly. And besides, you’re half human as well.” 

“And on days as beautiful as this, I like to not think of it,” Eddie winks. “But thank you for reminding me.”

They sit in silence for a while, the sounds of the village wafting all around them. Eddie is right, Steve thinks. It is a beautiful day. The last chill of winter is fully and truly gone, and the air smells of life and new beginnings. The kind of day he hoped to see again, back in the dark days when all seemed lost and it looked like all of their fighting had been in vain.

“It was nice, by the way,” he finally says. Eddie stirs, gaze shifting from the rolling clouds in the bright blue sky to his face. “The song.”

“Nice, huh?” Eddie huffs softly. “What high praise coming from you.”

“I’m making you a compliment here, you dickhead,” Steve groans, secretly thinking how the song wasn’t just nice, but beautiful. Beautiful as the day all around them and beautiful as the singer. “Take it or leave it.”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, loud and unrestrained. It makes the dimples at the corner of his mouth appear, the ones that Steve wants to trace with his fingers. When he calms down, there’s a faint pink blush blooming on the bridge of his nose.

“Thank you. I’ve been working on it for a while.”

Steve perks up. “Huh? You wrote it yourself? What’s it about?”

“It’s, um- …” Eddie hesitates, suddenly absurdly interested in plucking at the young blades of grass. “It’s about love. How allowing yourself to be loved is the scariest thing, because it means giving yourself to the other person fully, without hiding anything or holding anything back. But how it’s also unavoidable, if you find the person your heart longs for.”

“That’s-” Steve says. Swallows. Wets his lips with his tongue before he tries again. “That sounds wonderful. You’ll need to translate it for me some time.” 

Eddie’s eyes flick up, locking on his, and he feels himself blush - a hot, tingling heat that creeps out from under his collar and all the way up to his cheeks. 

“I mean … only if you want to, of course. I’d never-”

“I’d love that,” Eddie smiles. “I’ll translate all the words in the song for you, a hundred times over if you want me to. Under one condition.”

“Huh?” Steve says, feeling his blush darken as he watches that smile grow more coy. “What condition?” 

“I want you to finally grow a pair and hand over those flowers.”

Steve sputters. Eddie laughs and pats him on the back as he tries to catch his breath. 

“Damn,” Steve murmurs, once he’s regained the ability to speak. His face must be shining like a beacon by now. “”Was I that obvious?” 

“Subtlety has never been your strength, big boy,” Eddie laments. “You’ve been moping around like a lovesick idiot for weeks. The entire village must’ve caught on by now. So, as your friend, I must insist you spare all of us further embarrassment and just confess your love to whatever fair maiden has caught your eye. I promise there’s nothing to be afraid of, she’d be a fool to- … what?”

Steve has whipped up his head and is gawking at him, eyes huge and incredulous.

“Maiden?” he croaks. Eddie scrunches his nose in confusion. It makes his entire face crinkle adorably, and Steve can feel a treacherous bout of laughter tingling in the warm, fluttery space behind his collarbone. “What maiden? There’s no maiden, you idiot.”

“A strapping young lad then.” Eddie waves a hand in the air between them. He’s trying to go for nonchalant, but there’s a distinctly annoyed undercurrent to his voice. “This isn’t the time to get hung up on technicalities, Stevie. I’m trying to tell you something important here. If you want to be with that person, you need to overcome your fears and take matters into your own hands, because nobody is gonna do it for you.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Apparently not.”

And then he kisses him. 

He might not be Eddie’s soulmate, but he won’t sit by and listen to him hark this nonsense about Steve running off with someone else. Not when Eddie’s laugh and Eddie’s voice and Eddie’s eyes have been all he’s been thinking of for months. 

Eddie makes a confused sound against his lips, arms flailing in surprise, and for a second or two, Steve is convinced he’s gonna push him back and demand to know what the hell he is doing. Then, he melts into Steve’s touch. His lips part ever so slightly, a shuddery sigh tickling Steve’s face, and his hands come to rest on Steve’s arms - lightly, hesitantly, like he isn’t sure this is really happening. Like he cannot believe he’s allowed to have this. It’s all the encouragement Steve needs to deepen the kiss. 

Eddie’s lips are every bit as soft as they look, the little noises he makes even sweeter than he imagined in his wildest dreams, and immediately, he finds himself wondering why he didn’t do this a lot sooner. By the time they pull apart, one of his hands has found its way to Eddie’s face, gently cupping his cheek, fingers slipping into his dark curls.

Eddie stares at him, lips pink and slightly parted, eyes round and large with surprise, and this time, Steve can’t contain the fond laugh that bubbles from his throat. 

“It’s you, you moron,” he says, because he has a feeling that Eddie needs it spelled out for him in order to believe it. “It has always been you. Since the day we met, I think.”

“But-” Eddie stutters. Trails off. His lips move silently, even though no words come out and Steve thinks with a victorious little swoop of his stomach that he has finally found a way to render him speechless. “But why?”

“Because,” says Steve, tracing the shell of one pointed ear with his finger. “You are kind and brave and funny and strong and one of the most amazing persons I’ve ever met and I’ve been trying to tell you this for weeks.”

He notices a little belatedly that his right hand is still clutching the bouquet of flowers, and with a sheepish little smile, he nudges them in Eddie’s direction. 

“These are for you, by the way. Will you accept them?”

“I will,” Eddie’s hands are warm as they close around his, that smile still soft and brimming with hesitant joy. “And, um … I also wouldn’t say no to another kiss?”

Steve is only too happy to indulge him. 

This time, Eddie is more bold, not leaving him the lead but deepening the kiss on his own accord, tongue poking out to tease lightly at Steve’s lips. Steve sighs and grants him access- 

-and that’s when it happens. 

It starts as a barely-there tickle in his left wrist, and at first, he thinks that it's Eddie’s hair tickling his skin. It's only when the feeling intensifies, spreading into his arm and all the way up to his shoulder and chest as a fuzzy, tingling warmth that he realizes it’s something else. He gasps and pulls back, heart kickstarting in his ribcage, head spinning with surprised exhilaration, because he recognizes this sensation. He has felt it before.

“Stevie?” Eddie asks, voice shaky with confusion, and Steve knows he can feel it, too. “What’s going- what is that?”

He is staring at something on Steve’s wrist, eyes huge and watery. Steve doesn’t need to look to know it will be there, but he does anyway. He wants to know what it looks like. 

It’s two music notes, delicate and entwined like dancers, in the exact same spot as Robin’s mark on his other wrist. They’re still pale, only just having appeared, but darkening even as he watches. 

“But how-” Eddie whispers, reaching out shaking fingers to trace the mark. “There’s no way- … What does that mean?”

Steve’s face is hurting from the force of his own grin. 

“It means,” he says, gently disentangling one of Eddie’s hands from the bouquet so that he can lift it between them and reveal the sword and shield blooming on Eddie’s wrist. “That I was an idiot. And also that we’re soulmates.”

He ducks his head to brush his lips against the mark, and the touch is like electricity crackling through his veins, is like the heady rush of a good wine in his blood. Eddie laughs, a shaky and surprised thing, and Steve knows he feels it, too. 

“Robin is gonna be insufferable about it,” Steve mutters. “She’s been bugging me to finally confess to you for forever, can you imagine her smug face when she sees these?”

Eddie frowns down at the marks. When he looks up at Steve, his dark eyes are glinting.

“I dunno, they still look a bit pale to me. Maybe we should wait for them to come in properly before we tell her. If only there was something we could do to speed up the process …”

Turns out Robin was right, Steve thinks as they tumble down into the soft grass together, exchanging whispered confessions of love between more laughter and kisses. 

Sometimes, love needs time to bloom. 

More Steddie Bingo

[nochedie]

with you | dean winchester 💡

pairing: dean winchester x reader, pre series

genre: a bit of angst then some fluff

wordcount: 2.4k

summary: you’ve been hunting with john and dean for a long time now, and you finally snap after john berates dean one too many times

a/n: fuck john winchester! 🫶🏼

you walked through the dimly lit concrete pathway outside the motel you, dean, and john were holed up in tonight, rounding the corner and seeing the light on in the room you were all sharing. you could see the outline of the father and son arguing and you couldn’t hold back your eyeroll.

every night was the same, ever since you started hunting with them. you could see from dean’s face everytime his dad was giving him an earful, he really believed it. he believed everything. sometimes it would get so heated, that john would tell dean it was his fault sam left. that he was supposed to protect him, and anything that he was exposed to that made him feel any different was because of dean. of course that wasn’t true. but it didn’t stop dean from believing it anyway.

ever since he was small, the responsibility of raising his brother was all up to him. he was only four years old when his mother died, when their entire life changed. nothing would ever be normal again. he lost his mother, sure, but he lost his dad too. he had to make sure sam was safe, when he needed someone to make sure he was safe. he was only a child.

throughout your travels, you had grown to resent john as fervently as you loved dean. you longed never to see john’s face again, but that would mean that you wouldn’t get to see dean’s.

you knew john disliked you just as much as you disliked him, and there was a simple reason for it: he saw how dean looked at you. he saw you as a distraction, putting dean at risk. only reason he was acting like this was to protect his son but he had a funny way of showing it. you could hear him berating dean through the door, talking about how he was irresponsible and stupid for being distracted on the hunt today. reality is he wasn’t distracted. he just happened to help you up from the floor before “checking himself for wounds” as john shouted at the two of you earlier in the day. maybe if any of his arguments actually made sense you might have a sliver of respect left for him.

you opened the door quickly, causing the two men to stop talking immediately. dean was sat on the bed, and john was towering over him. he had the ability to make dean feel small and you hated that. every little thing dean did was to impress his father and none of it was good enough.

you waved the bag of treats you had gotten from the store up in the air, bypassing john entirely and taking a seat on the bed next to dean.

“i got us some beers and some snacks.” you looked up just in time to see john walking out the motel room door. you weren’t sure where he was going and frankly you didn’t care.

“that’s my girl.” dean tried his best to mask any kind of expression on his face that showed just how he was feeling about the interaction with his dad, but you could see right through it. he was hurt, angry, mainly just sad. you knew that letting him know you knew how he felt would actually make him feel worse, so you chose, as you always do, just to be there for him. try and take his mind off things.

you crossed your legs on the bed, facing him and cracking open the beers with the bottle opener dean had gifted to you. you clinked glasses, and took a couple of swigs.

“so, what’s next? any new cases lined up?”

“yeah, my dad found something weird in the paper this mornin’… looks just like spirit behaviour, so it should be an easy one.”

“hm, okay. can we reprise our characters when we’re doing research?” you smiled when you caught dean’s cheeks flush. for this last case, you two had been pretending to be a husband and wife reporter duo, writing a story for the local gazette.

“sure thing, mrs brooks.”

“i think we should create a jingle for mr and mrs brooks: amateur reporters.”

“definitely not.”

“what are you gonna do, stop me?”

“yes. mr brooks is quite comfortable locked away up here.” he points to his head, taking another swig of his beer.

“dean.” you nudge his arm right when he was taking a drink, causing it to spill.

“y/n, come on!” he couldn’t help but smile as you mouthed an apology, before getting up to go to the bathroom to clean himself up, closing the door behind him.

as soon as the bathroom door closed, the motel door opened and in came john. your smile dropped as soon as you saw him, eyes casting down to the bed.

“can we talk, john? outside.”

“and why would we do that?”

“just come outside.” john let out a heavy sigh and followed you outside, slamming the motel door behind him.

“so, what is it?” john crossed his arms across his chest, looking inconvenienced to even be there.

“i heard what you said to dean earlier. you know, you can talk to him without yelling. you can protect him without telling him everything he does is wrong.”

“and what does it have to do with you?”

“clearly something since you were mentioning my name an awful lot!”

“i don’t think you’re good for him is all. actually i think after this hunt, you should just leave us alone, okay?”

“you can let your emotions get in the way all you want but i’m a valuable asset and you know it. how many times have i had to save your ass?”

“dean cannot concentrate with you around.”

“oh, all of a sudden you care about dean? how about telling him that once in a while?” your blood was boiling, your voice raising. the entire motel could probably hear. dean had heard the commotion outside and was listening from inside the room.

“i care about dean.”

“enough to tell him everything is his fault? enough to rob him of his childhood?”

“what right do you have to tell me how to parent my goddamn children?”

“apart from the fact that they never got to be children, what the hell have you done for them as a parent? sam doesn’t want anything to do with you and dean spends every waking moment trying to please you! you are not a parent. i get that you were trying to protect them, but this wasn’t the way. you didn’t have to do what you did. you chose to do that. dean was just a kid!”

silence. he didn’t have anything else to say.

“tell dean i went to the bar or something.” you turned on your heel and walked away, up the street away from the motel and towards the nearest town.

john took a few minutes outside, half for some fresh air, half because he knew dean would ask where you were the second he got inside, and he wanted you out of sight before then. he stepped through the door, and dean was sitting on the bed, looking up expectantly for you to walk in after john. “where’s y/n?”

“nearest bar.” dean was up and out of there before the last syllable left john’s mouth.

he had tried your phone more times than he could count, and each ring caused the pit in his stomach to grow deeper.

he hated not having you in his sight for even a second. after a while his walking turned into running, calling your name into the darkness. in his hurry to leave he hadn’t even grabbed the keys to the impala and it was too late for him to turn around now.

despite not being good with directions, somehow you had found the nearest bar, but what you hadn’t realised was what time it was. it was early hours of the morning and the bar was just about closed, unfortunately leaving some.. unsavoury types lingering outside. sometimes you forgot, even if you got rid of a paranormal threat, sometimes the human beings were worse.

you pulled out your phone to call dean, but it was dead. “shit…”

you wandered through the empty streets of town, constantly looking over your shoulder. you could see a payphone up ahead, and you knew dean’s number by heart.

you quickened your pace to the payphone, punching in dean’s number as quickly as you could once you reached it. the line was busy. you hoped he wasn’t trying to call you too. you waited a while and put another quarter in, punching in dean’s number again. this time it rung.

“y/n?”

“how’d you know?”

“where the hell are you? are you safe? i’ve been losing my mind over here trying to look for you, i-“ he paused, not wanting to make you feel like he was mad at you. “just tell me where you are.”

“i’m in town… i don’t even remember how i got here but i don’t know my way back to the motel from here.”

“is there anything around you?”

“yeah, there’s a hardware store. it’s called dave’s hardware.”

“alright, just.. hang on, okay? stay there. i’ll find you.”

the phone beeped to alert the call was about to drop.

“alright. dean i-“ the call dropped. “-m sorry.” you put the phone back and stepped out of the phone box, sitting down on the curb. you thought back to the argument with john, and there’s no way dean didn’t hear you. you were just so angry, you had seen dean upset one too many times. all your frustration came out in one. you thought dean might be mad. he had a complicated relationship with his dad, but maybe he would still be mad that you yelled at him. sitting with your thoughts, you didn’t even notice the sound of dean’s footsteps.

“hey…” he touched your shoulder, causing you to jump before you realised it was him. you stood up, and he immediately wrapped you up in a tight embrace. truthfully, physical contact like this, so intimate, it was a first for the two of you. sure you made eyes at each other and there was the subconscious flirting and deep conversations but you hadn’t made it past this barrier yet. not until now. he squeezed you like he hadn’t seen you in months, and you did the same for him. “please don’t do that again. you scared the hell out of me. i thought somethin’ happened to you…”

“i’m sorry i yelled at your dad. i was just so angry, you know?” a hint of sadness was clear on his face as he realised just how many of the arguments between him and his dad you had heard. he always suspected you knew, your eyes couldn’t hide your sadness when you looked at him for hours after.

“don’t apologise for that.” you pulled away from him slightly, his arms were still around you but you wanted to see his face. he tucked a strand of stray hair behind your ear, keeping his hand on your face as he moved down to cup your chin. your eyes were glued to one anothers, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours. it was sweet, and full of an emotion you couldn’t yet place.

when you finally separated, dean kept his eyes closed another few moments. like he was having a dream he didn’t want to wake up from.

“y/n… lord knows i’m not good at all this… but i really do care about you. i wasn’t sure at first, but.. today really sealed the deal for me, y’know? got a taste of how it might feel if i lost you, and… i never want to feel that again… i don’t even know what this feeling is.”

he hadn’t been in love before, and neither had you. but what else could this be?

“my hero. rescuing me from dave’s hardware.”

“shut up.” dean poked light-heartedly, letting out a short laugh.

“i feel the same, dean.” his eyes lit up.

“you don’t have to say that just so i look less like a loser professing my love outside da-“ he stopped talking the second he realised he said it. the l word. “let’s go.” he grabbed your hand, pulling you along and hoping you would forget.

“i love you, too. and i’m not just saying that.” he squeezed your hand, pulling you in close again.

“you do?”

“yes, obviously. you couldn’t tell?” sometimes he thought he could. then he would talk himself out of it. he didn’t think he could get, let alone deserve, anybody who came even close to you. you started walking while talking, and you held his hand tight. “wait a sec, did you walk here?”

“more like ran, but yeah.”

“why wouldn’t you take the impala?”

“i forgot the keys, and then.. i don’t know, i thought if i turned back after i realised, you would be long gone, i wouldn’t see where you went, and i would never find you.”

“dramatic.”

“yeah, well i couldn’t take the risk. not with you. never with you.” you walked back to the motel in a comfortable silence, your hand not leaving his for even a second. john was still up when you got back to the motel. you acknowledged each other when you walked through the door, and dean let go of your hand only to go and take a shower.

you sat on the edge of the bed, taking off your shoes. you shifted awkwardly when john sat down in front of you on the chair in front of the motel desk.

“y/n, about today. you were right. and don’t think i don’t think about that every waking moment.” you kept your eyes glued down, not wanting or caring to make eye contact. “i know you care about dean. you can keep on hunting with us, you’re valuable, but the second i see him acting out of line for you.. i can’t ignore that.” he stood up from the chair, making his way towards the door and leaving again.

once dean was out of the shower and you had had one yourself, you crawled into dean’s bed with him. it was the middle of the night and the only thing playing was re-runs of dallas, but. you didn’t care. dean slipped his arm around you, and your head lay to rest on his chest. he gestured to the tv when jr was on the screen, wearing a white cowboy hat. “think i would look good in one of those?” dean questioned, positioning himself to look down at you.

“most definitely.”

comments, feedback etc always appreciated! thank you for reading!

[coralinnii]

Congrats on 2.7k followers!! You deserve it! :D For the event, may I request Malleus, Azul, Jade and Floyd with a gentle giant S/O? As you can already guess, S/O is super tall (you can change this detail if you’d like, but perhaps they’d even be noticeably taller than Malleus?) and maybe even kind of intimidating because of it, but they’re very friendly, quiet, and gentle. 

Again, congratulations on your achievements!! Keep up the great work you’re doing 🥳

‧₊˚✧ My Statuesque Sweetheart ‧₊˚✧

↳ Tall Gentle Giant/Reader

feat: Malleus ❋ Azul ❋ Jade ❋ Floyd genre: fluff note: no pronouns were used with the reader, I love beluga whales (it’ll make sense in Jade’s ver.),

Sooo…being someone that can’t relate to being tall :I, I went around to ask some of my taller friends to know what’s that like, so this took longer cuz of research. I also got into Genshin to prep for another prompt someone asked me and dang, do I gotta research on that too.

Similar prompt: Tall!reader who loves hugs

2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023

You were certainly a surprise to him. In his long years, rarely does he find people where he doesn’t have to tilt his head down for once.

Despite your height, you were as cute and friendly as a woodland creature, a contrast to Malleus who exudes regal power without much effort. He’s fascinated by you as your stature can command the room yet your energy has a rather soothing effect on him and those around you. 

Man is saying you have zero scary dog energy, and that is adorable to him.

If you’re the affectionate type, congratulations! You’d be one of the few to be able (and allowed) to reach his horns. What started as curiosity soon became a habit as you made it your love language to care and clean Malleus’ iconic features. As a bonus, everytime you are done it’s fun to lay your head gently upon Malleus’, between his horns which catches him off guard no matter how often it happens. 

Having a tall man with money certainly has privileges as you now have access to his personal tailor as well. Was there a pair of pants you really like but it only reached your ankles? Not anymore, let the royal tailor deal with that and add some matching accessories to that. 

However you feel about your height, you are a sublime creature of beauty to Malleus. When he looks up to you smiling at him with the shining moon behind you highlighting your tall outline, he hasn’t seen anyone more otherworldly than you. 

You stand out amongst every human I have encountered. Hm? Ah, I do not refer to your stature but rather… the way you effortlessly capture my attention and ensnare my thoughts with visions of you.

Azul being around an incredibly tall person? What else is new? Azul doesn’t feel all that insecure about his height, before or after meeting you.

Well, you’re definitely the most pleasant person he knows that towers over him, at least. He knows that many, him included, would use your sort of stature as an advantage over others. Instead, he likes your rather sweet nature and way of conduct. 

If you have stretch marks due to your rapid growth spurts, Azul would feel absolutely touched if you trusted him enough to show it. Azul would genuinely praise your resilience to may have been an aching and painful experience to go through. If you let him, he could create a potion to get rid of the marks if it truly makes you insecure, but he finds you beautiful no matter what. 

Watch him flinch and get flustered anytime you wrap your arms around him, smothering him with your taller form. You would laugh to see him so easily out of sorts if you press your weight onto him. He can handle it of course, but the heat of your all-encompassing hugs is vastly different from his time in the cold sea. 

Azul would provide certain things that would suit your needs that others may overlook. Suddenly, you would find blankets that can cover you entirely, or you were gifted a coat that is actually a long coat that doesn’t awkwardly cut off at a weird length on you. Mirrors in Azul’s private room are always suspiciously up to your eye-level whenever you visit. 

He’s happy to know that you see him as someone reliable regardless of that. He has an interesting way of showing his appreciation

Do you like the new decor of the Mostro Lounge? The new additions are quite beautiful and eye-catching. The tall but dazzling designs were inspired by you, after all.

Oh my. What a sight to behold, you are. 

Jade doesn’t seem like the type to brag about his advantageous height, but he is aware that not many can reach his stature and even fewer actually pass him in that regard. 

He still treats you as courteously as he always does, even more so as the two of you start to grow closer. 

A nice bonus about having a tall boyfriend is that most of the things in his room are perfect for you! Beds you can fully stretch out in, actual full-length mirrors that don’t make you bend down, and furniture that doesn’t require you to squish yourself into. Jade’s (and Floyd’s) has become one of your favorite places to visit.

He does find it amusing that some people may find you intimidating because of your height as he knows that you were far from any definition of that word. Jade would chuckle to himself whenever he sees you getting happy or excited, like watching a playful beluga whale squeaking in joy. Your gentle features and bright smile shines through any misconceptions of your intimidating form. 

Though not quite used to it, Jade doesn’t mind having to crane his neck to meet your gaze. Especially not when he could watch your adorable quizzical expression as he asked you to lower your head to him, only to whisper teasing words into your ear. He especially finds it fun to watch you jump to your full height in flustered surprise, even occasionally bumping your head on a hanging decoration. 

Really, how could he resist you? 

Do you need rest, my love? Perhaps a cup of tea can soothe your aches and joints while you sit.

Oh, Floyd would have no issues with you being taller than him. Probably the opposite, really.

Don’t @ me but I fully believe Floyd has a thing for legs, be it his own or others. He’s so fascinated by these human features that you may even catch him blatantly staring appreciatively at your legs. 

“What’s the big deal? They’re right there, who can blame me?”

He will however, with full confidence, laugh his lungs out if you hit your head on the door frame or trip on an ottoman seat you didn’t notice. Maybe he’ll rub the ouchie away but he’ll be laughing while he does.

Be prepared for impromptu fashion shows with custom made shoes to show off your gorgeous mile-long legs. Floyd could spend hours looking through online shopping with you, showing you websites that specifically cater to tall drinks of water like yourself.

This man will be floored by the experience of being the little spoon of a hug. To be able to lean into your arms and rest his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat while you  lovingly pat his hair? You can be unknowingly smothering him and he’ll be loving every moment of it. 

Regardless if you’re confident or not, Floyd loves to take you dancing. If you’re not confident in your dancing, Floyd is more than happy to lead you with every beat until you have fun. The man just loves to see the flashing lights paint your body, with your smile being the brightest of them all.

Did you get taller, Shrimpy? Aha ha, just pulling your leg there! Though, wouldn’t make a difference to me. You’re still a hottie even if you, hehe!

[sunflowersteves]

Could you write about Carmen getting your name tatted on his chest ? 🫶

yes I can, babes 😌

warnings || tattoos, absolutely pure fluff, making out, mentions of anxiety, not edited

masterlist

Carmen let out a deep breath, nerves prickling his skin, as he started to open the door of your apartment. His fingers from his other hand nervously tapped against the side of his thigh, all due to the anxiety that settled into his bones.

What if you hated it? What if you found it disgusting? Would you hate him?

The endless questions and unknown reactions flooded his head. It started to make him dizzy as he padded off into the living room.

“Baby?” He called out. His voice had a edge to it that made him want to cringe.

“In here, lovebug.” Instantly, he could feel his shoulders relax. The soft, caressing sound of your voice had silenced almost all of those trepidatious thoughts. Almost.

He barely moved an inch from where he stood. He knew your voice echoed from the bedroom, but his body refused to move. As always, his flight or fight response wanted to hone in on flight.

He took another deep breath. “Carmy?” You say. It was so soft and sweet that it melted his insides. Concern was evident by his lack of appearance and response.

This is so stupid. He was so stupid.

His mouth clamped shut. It was as if his body couldn’t quite catch up to his brain—which was racing a mile per minute. His finger continued to tap the side of his thigh.

You found yourself walking out into the living room, eyebrows furrowed. “Carmy baby, what’s the matter?”

You gently caress his jaw and it takes everything inside of him not to reach out. He wants to sit lovingly on the couch with your body on top of his, all while you watch some show.

More than half of the time he’s not even paying attention. His mind is either concocting a new recipe or thinking about how good your weight feels on top of him. His thoughts are all food or you.

“I have s-something to show you.” He curses inwardly at the stuttering of his voice. He hated how nervous he was for this.

It’s just you. Miraculously and amazing you.

Your eyebrows are furrowed once more, but your soft touch never wavers. He forces himself to take a big breath, eyes avoiding your stare.

He slowly takes off his white t-shirt. His hands shake as he pulls it over his head. His gold chain thumps against his chest and your eyes lowered. Then they lower again.

You let out a gasp. It was loud and shocking as it echoed against the apartment walls. “Oh, Carmy.” You whisper.

He sucks in a breath—anxiety toppling over as he spills his feelings. “W-well, uh, I know I said I was getting that arm piece. Like-like we talked about, you know? But then I-I started thinking and all I ever really wanted was you. So-so, yeah.” His hand was furiously pushing through his curls through the entire speech.

Your eyes are just glued to his chest. He gulps, hating the complete silence. However, you were just in awe.

Right on the center of where his heart is supposed to be was your initials in black ink. Your initials. The tattoo outlined in red from the irritated skin.

“Do you like it?” He says. He thought it was going to seem confident but the waver of his vocal cords say otherwise.

You finally look up into his eyes. You could’ve sworn you could stare at it for years. You open your mouth to reply but nothing comes out. Your heart pounds against your ears—his too. Having to wait for your response was torturous.

Instead of words, your body flings itself onto his. Your mouth slides over his and molds together as one. Your hands find themselves into his hair and pull. It was as if there was some switch that went off in your head. All you wanted, needed, and cared for right now was Carmen.

He pours out a moan when his tongue pushes between your lips and collides with yours. He could taste the leftover peppermint soufflé that you had after lunch. God, you tasted like fucking heaven.

You pull away before getting ahead of yourself. Carmen needed to go back to the restaurant for the night rush, but you wanted to pounce on him right then and there—give him kisses for a life time.

He laughs, which causing a chuckle to bubble from your own chest too.

“I fucking love it, Carmy.” You huff out. You were quite breathless from the kiss.

His eyes sparkle as his hands squeeze your waist. “Yeah?”

You nod, eyes looking glossed over. You were drunk on him—on Carmy.

“Yeah, lovebug. I might have to get one for myself. A C.B. just for you.”

He finally smiles, bright and toothy. His heart beats faster than ever, but now, it’s for a different reason.

“Sounds perfect, baby. Just perfect.”

[kisakis-boyfriend]

hiyaaa would you be willing to write an alphabet for trans baji? need more of him in my life desperately

Author's Note: Absolutely! Trans Baji owns my entire heart ❤️

For our 3000 follower celebration! (CLOSED NOW)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Baji becomes really mellow after sex, and a bit needy too. He wants to hold your hand and lay/sit next to you while you both chillax.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I'm going to say his favorite body part is his abs, Baji is rather proud of how much muscle he has and how nice his abs look.

As for you, I think he'd like your neck. He likes to kiss and bite you there frequently.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

Baji doesn't cum easily, it takes a while to get to an orgasm. Even when you're eating him out (which he treasures) you'll be there for some time. He can squirt, but it doesn't happen often. It's just an occasional bonus. ^-^

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's a vampire fucker. He's a little embarrassed by it, but at the same time he doesn't care if anyone else thinks it's dumb or cringe. Baji fantasizes about you being his vampire lover, AND about being the vampire himself, equally.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He has a decent amount of experience. Baji had his fair share of casual sex before you two started dating, enough to know what he does and doesn't like.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. May include a visual)

On all fours — when you're railing him hard and deep, and he's hunched forward with his head tucked in, Baji can watch the outline of your cock fill him over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and–

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

I'd say he can be humorous, definitely willing to chuckle at your remarks during sex.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Baji swears that he doesn't do anything special to the hair down there, but it's somehow just as soft as the hair on his head?! And no, he does not shave it. His bush is luscious and shiny.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

Equal parts primal and romantic. Baji gets really into it when you fuck, but he's also subtle with his clinginess. Please hold him tighter, he will appreciate you doing things without needing to ask ❤️

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

A frequent fingerer. Baji definitely gets himself off if you're not available for an extended period of time. Or whenever he needs some stimulation, even if he doesn't cum.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Biting, choking, impact play, temperature play, and collaring. And if vampires count as a kink, then add that too.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

The living room, strangely enough. You end up having sex in someone's living room often, whether it's yours, a friend's, his place before you move in together, etc.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Play fighting will usually lead to something more, as will anything that gets his adrenaline pumping. Wrapping an arm around Baji's waist can also do the trick in most circumstances.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Showing his body off to strangers. If you have multiple partners, that's different, but someone he doesn't know watching you touch him? Nope.

He wouldn't want them to see your nude body either.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Baji loves receiving the most. He will reciprocate to be nice, but he'd prefer if you were the one in between his legs 🥴

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Baji tends to like fast and roughish, with the only exception being when you eat him out. Then a slower pace is preferable.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Quickies are fine, although he's probably not going to cum. Having a quickie at the beginning of the day, and letting that experience swim around in Baji's mind until nighttime until you can properly fuck, though? Now that's how you can help him cum later~

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Yeah, he's pretty chill about trying new things. Using new toys, trying new things, or getting a little frisky in, say, a movie theater is acceptable.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Baji's stamina is pretty damn good, if his combat is anything to go by. He can handle some tough fights, and it's no different in the bedroom.

Depending on how you define one round, he can only go for one. Again, it's not easy for him to cum, so if you count making him cum as one round, then you're not doing much more than that on average. But he can handle a few hours of sex for sure.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He's not entirely against using toys, but he prefers you and your body. Maybe toys specifically designed with trans men in mind would be up his alley though, but he's not going to own many.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

LOVES to tease. Personally, I HC him as a switch, and even when he's subbing, I think he'd pretend to act like a dom and tease you like the little bastard that he is.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

I guess you could consider him on the louder side? Baji talks a lot and grunts more than he moans, but neither instance is super loud. He does make a lot of noise overall though.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Want to know how to see Baji blush so hard that he looks like he'll pass out? Get him to wear a cat ear headband and make him say "nya". Win a bet or say he owes you for something, whatever you have to do, and you'll never see him more embarrassed in his entire life.

Baji will curse you out, but he's also the wettest he's ever been before~

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

(I'm not good at describing vaginas…please forgive me if this section is generic 💀)

As described in the Hair section, he's very hairy down there. His bottom growth is definitely noticeable even with underwear on (and it's very sensitive). His pussy is a little "fatter", if that makes sense.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It's up there, but it's not too crazy. Baji is usually down to have sex whenever, though he's not constantly craving it.

Z = ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Doesn't fall asleep easily. As I mentioned at the beginning, he gets super mellow and chill afterwards, but he's definitely awake. Now if it's the middle of the night and you just finished a quick round, yeah he'd probably fall asleep right after. But that's the one exception.

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Part I

Word count: +4300

Warnings: SA, abuse (kinda Cinderella vibes), almost rape, seriously 18+ please🙏

This was written only because few scenes, that will be in the next part, is occupying my mind for weeks now and I need to get rid of that to make space for anything else. At this point I have no idea what to do with this anyway. I have potential villain/s and that's it. Nothing more - I still didn't get much further, only a hazy outline of story that could work, but it's still more than I had when I started to write Heal me

This most likely isn't up to everyone's taste and it's a bit raw and harsh (like winter), but who knows. You might like it nonetheless

Hopefully it will help me get rid of whatever is eating on me since August, so I can again be productive and write something..different Anyway, enjoy🫰

Edit: as I read it after a long time I surprised even myself.. in many ways =_= Where did this come from - seriously? Sorry if there are still mistakes. I usually do at least five rounds of checking before posting anything, but this.. I can't possibly do another round. Don't tell me I didn't warn you. 18+ really!

Let's start new year with angst 😵‍💫

Part II

I stood by the window, wrapped in warm fur. My eyes roamed over the crumbled ruins of houses disappearing under layer of heavy snow behind the inner walls, icicles longer and thicker than my forearm, glittered in sun. Silver snowflakes danced above that graveyard of half-fallen stone walls that were sticking up like black fangs surrounded by pure whiteness.

These lands used to be prosperous and lively, dozens of families lived under the governance of my father, the lord whose family was assigned to protect the border with Autumn Court. Because of the good relationship with the lords on the other side of border, father's family used to be one of the strongest and most important in entire Winter Court. But that was story of past.

Everything started to crumble when my father took a lady from Autumn as a bride. Like ice and fire, people of Winter never fully trusted the wielders of fire from Autumn, despising them; looking down through the fingers at my poor mother. Rumours spread faster than plague, infecting every heart on its way. Nobody cared they were true mates, it didn't matter.

The day I was born was the day when everything went to Hell. People started to leave, moving to who-knows-where. When my powers manifested for the first time, they started to run away in big groups until just few were left behind, mostly only vassals and families of staff at our castle. Fire wielder born in Winter.. it was as if my father brought in a demon disguised as one of them. As soon as I started to notice and understand the side glances, the disgust and even the rage on faces of faeries around me, I swore to never again use the magic circling in my veins and buried it deep down. Of course, every act against the nature demands a price to be paid. My price was almost constant migraine and often nose bleeding, yet it was better than using the powers.

I was three when my mother suddenly died. She was weak and unwell ever since I was born and the harsh blizzard that hit whole Winter Court that year, was too much for her; or that's what I was told. She was always cold and it caused her a great suffering - something we had in common.

During the following months my father was rapidly withering and aged a lot during that time, refusing to eat until I burst into tears, scared he would leave me, too. That broke him and finally, he ate. He started trying, living to take care of me.

In his efforts to protect me and save the name and position of our family, when I was ten, he married a widow with son from prestigious family. The boy was eighteen at the time. Ever since they started to live with us, I felt his intensive gaze glued to my back anywhere I went. I tried to ignore it, really tried, but it was getting worse and worse lately.

Faint sounds of jingle bells scared away pictures of the past and all dark thoughts and I straightened up, watching the horizon. At first I saw nothing, only blinding whiteness. I squinted, listening carefully. No, it wasn't a cry of cold wind, that were really jingle bells and they were quickly getting closer. And then I finally saw it.

Pair of reindeer passed through strait between the steep mountains that were protecting this valley, hauling huge sleight seemingly made of the polished ice. When they reached the first ruins, I recognised the emblem of High Lord's family at the sleigh's side. I immediately rushed from my bedchambers and ran to father's study at the ground floor. By the time I reached its doors, the sleigh were already passing the gates.

"Father!" I heaved. "We have guests! Message from the High Lord!"

Father looked up from the stack of documents, slightly startled, putting down the glasses. "It must only seem to you, sweetheart. There's no way-"

"Guests! We have guests from capital!" My stepmother shrieked as soon as she opened the doors. Then she noticed me and wrinkled her nose in disapproval. Despite my father's belief, she never liked me nor considered me her daughter. She managed to suppress her hate in presence of him, but she never omitted the oportunity to hurt me, verbally or physically. "I thought that you are unwell when you didn't join us for the breakfast," her lips curled into cruel grin. "You look well to me."

"I saw royal sleigh from the window," I mumbled, averting my eyes. She hated when I even merely looked at her. Once she claimed that the disgusting fire in my pale eyes burnt her and punished me for it. Whether it was true I didn't know. Except of the fire magic, I looked like a normal High Fae of Winter Court. My long white hair had slightly silver shade, my skin was pale and eyes had color of frozen river.

Father stood up and swiftly headed to doors. "If it is so, we have to welcome them accordingly. Where's Zima? Are maids preparing the refreshments?"

"I instructed them to brew the best tea we have and prepare some warm refreshments on my way. Zima is training, but I sent butler to call him in," Morena replied as she hurried after father. I followed after them, keeping my distance.

The second she mentioned him, her son appeared. He observed the situation and his cold, almost white eyes landed on me. He took his time as usual. It felt as if he was trying to peel off all of the clothes from my body. Cold shiver ran down my spine and I tugged the fur cloak even closer.

"I was told that we have visit from capital. Is it true?" his raspy cold voice caused that I instinctively cringed.

"Yes, dear," Morena looped her hand to his arm, excited. "Royal family's ignored us for years now! This has to be some good news finally!"

My father sighed. "I have bad feeling about it.."

Chirping, Morena led Zima to the foyer. I matched my steps with father. "It certainly will be okay. No need to worry," I smiled gently.

Father only pressed lips into thin line. We arrived just as the sleigh stopped at the stairs and importantly looking male in thick fur cape got out.

"I'm Isen, High Lord's main advisor," he said without paying any respect to us. He was looking down the length of his nose at us with frown, then his eyes slowly wandered all around the mostly empty, dark and cold hall. Compared to the High Lord's castle, ours had to look like a nest of poor villagers to him. That much was clear from the strict lines around his mouth that only deepened. "I brought a message from His Highness. Can I have a word with you, lord Cherith? In private, of course." His gaze stopped on me and one of his brows raised as he surveyed me from feet to head with almost interest.

I held my breath, looking down as ethics dictated. However, he wasn't the only one looking at me. Morena's rage was staging into me like daggers and my stepbrother's sick possessiveness made me feel even more uncomfortable.

Father's brows knitted with worry and he cleared his throat.

"Yes, sure. Please, follow me to my study."

"How about a cup of warm tea?" Morena offered with sly smile.

"There's no need of tea. I don't plan on staying here long," the adviser declined coldly.

Morena paled and froze on spot. "As you wish, your-"

They were gone before she finished the sentence, the soft click of doors echoed in hallway. She turned to me, baring her teeth.

"What was that? What have you done to catch his interest? You little witch!"

"I did nothing," I tried to defend myself, already knowing what would follow.

She grabbed my elbow harshly. "Come!"

I was resisting, but she pulled me all the way to the closest lounge. Zima followed without word with perverted grin. He loved to watch my punishments. He locked the doors and warded them.

Morena pushed me to the table. "Pull your skirts up!"

"But I did nothing bad, I-"

"You dared to look at me with your dirty eyes today. That alone is enough good reason for punishment! Hurry up, if you don't want it to get worse."

Tears stung my eyes. No matter what I would do, I wouldn't get out of here without punishment. Even if I tried to call for help, all staff at this castle ignored me. I couldn't ran from this, so I did as I was told.

Zima stepped away from the doors for better view and his mother took out thin wand she was hiding in her skirts. As usual, she whisked the back of my thighs until she drew blood.

I bit on my lower lip, suppressing the cries of pain, my fingers fisted the edge of the table. I wouldn't give her such satisfaction. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks - that was the only sign of my protest.

When Morena was done with me, she simply left, immediately losing interest in me. Though, my punishment wasn't over. Zima was still in the room. I suspected that his mother knew very well what he was lately doing to me, yet she never stopped him, never told him anything.

"Don't dare to move," he hissed as he stepped even closer.

His trousers fell down and I could hear strange noises from behind. Thankfully, I didn't see him nor what he was doing there. Nevertheless I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth, the worst part was just about to come yet. My fingers balled into fists. I could feel his hand on my legs, his fingers digging into my flesh as he groaned. And then it started. He pressed his hips against my clothed back, rocking back and forth as something thick and hard poked me, sliding down my underwear and between my thighs. Both of his hands landed on my sides, holding me down. I held my breath trying to block his disgusting moans and groans. Once a single sob escaped me, I was unable to stop the following ones.

I didn't know how long it took until he finally groaned for the last time, something wet covered my inner thighs and he pulled his trousers up. He leaned over me, whispering into my ear, slightly breathless. "One day, you will be mine. Truly mine. You can't escape me. I'm looking forward that day."

The doors closed behind him and I shivering pulled my skirts down and fell to my knees. I curled into a ball on the floor and cried. The stinging pain of beating slowly subsided as the shallow wounds healed. However my soul was behind the point of mending for years now. I had enough of this. I couldn't take it anymore, but what could I do? Where could I go to get rid of my stepmother and especially of her disgusting son. Bile rose in my throat and I crawled to the window, pushing it open.

The freezing cold air filled my lungs and few snowflakes landed on my cheeks, mixing with the tears that already started to turn into ice. This kind of pain was welcome. At least for a moment, I could forget. I sighed heavily. What kind of life would I have if my mother didn't die? I wondered. She for sure wouldn't let anyone treat me like this. For her, I wouldn't be nuisance nor the monster.

The sharp pain split my head and my vision went black. I hissed, massaging my temples even though I knew it wouldn't work. A wave of nausea made me empty my stomach. I again closed the window and wrapped myself in the fur cloak. Slowly breathing in and out, I sat down and waited until it got a bit better.

After a while I heard hurried steps at hallway and dared to peek out. It seemed that the lord Isen was done here, leaving. I hurried to the foyer, wiping my mouth and adjusting my appearance.

"I hope that you understood the instructions and you and your family will act according the High Lord's will," I heard his reserved voice as I got closer. My stepmother and her son were already there, waiting. Morena seemed to be confused, but she didn't even look my direction as I joined them. Her son narrowed eyes on me in malice. However, it was my father who worried me. His shoulders were slumped, he was paler than usual, terror and pain marking his face.

"Yes," was the only thing he said. Lord Isen immediately turned away without second glance at my family. His eyes landed on me for a short moment though and he was off. Reindeer shook their heads, ringing the jingle bells and the snow creaked as the sleighs moved.

"What did he come for?" Morena asked the second the entrance doors were firmly shut.

My father only shook his head and his sad eyes searched for me. "My sweet little girl, can you accompany me for a while?"

I was already eighteen yet he still called me like that. My heart filled with love. "Sure, dad." I took his big, warm hand and he led me back to his study.

"What's going on?" Morena demanded, following us, her son at her heels.

"Later. I'll tell you later," father stopped them with a simple gesture.

We walked down the hallway in silence. Father locked the door of his study and pulled me into a tight hug. He let out a shuddering sigh.

"What happened?" I asked softly, holding him just as close.

Father was still silent. When it already seemed that he wouldn't answer, he took a deep breath. "High Lord thinks that it's time for his heir to get married," his voice was strangely raspy. "And he chose you to be the bride."

I froze in disbelief, lump raising in my throat. I felt sick again. "Me?" My voice was weak and shaky, mirroring my terror. "Why me?"

"I thought it's long time forgotten and royal family already crossed out our name from the family tree," he sighed, leading me to the small sofa near to the hearth with flickering flames. "Long, very long time ago, royal family needed someone reliable to protect our Court from the Autumn as the natural barrier of mountains didn't seem to be enough. The High Lord decided to entrust such important task to his cousin who he was very close with. He gave him new name and extensive land at the border. It's a position that is inherited in our family for generations now."

Even though I understood what he was implying, I still didn't see the reason why to choose me. Father had to read it in my eyes because he squeezed both of my hands in his big one and smiled sadly.

"High Lord needs to strengthen the position of the heir and the royal family. Unfortunately, there isn't any suitable lady between their close relatives, so he decided to call upon our ancient bonds and wants you. The noble families in power aren't very reliable these days and keep plotting against the royal family. But we, despite everything, still keep on our oath and serve well, so High Lord counts on our loyalty now."

I swallowed hard. "Do-.. Does he know about..?"

Father nodded. "He knows about Evalyn, your mother, but that's all. He, as the rest of the court, has no idea about your powers. By your appearance, he probably assumes you took after me."

"If he finds out..?"

"I tried to object," father sighed heavily, tears shining in his eyes. "Unfortunately, it isn't a proposal. It's an order. You are the only reminder of my beloved Evalyn I have. I swore to protect you, my little girl, but the moment you get married, I won't be able to fulfil the promise... I can't even imagine what will happen once young Kallias or his father finds out about your magic."

He pressed face to my hands, cool wetness trickling into my palms. "I thought I have enough time to find someone kind who would love you and take good care of you somewhere far from this Court. Somewhere where you could live freely without being looked down. But I failed you.. I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry, my precious child.."

His words were breaking my heart and I wept with him. He was trying so hard for me all these years. Because of me he lost almost everything, yet he never blamed me for it and always thought so dearly of me. And now, he was even apologising.

"Please, don't, papa." His shoulders trembled and he started to cry even harder. "You protected me whole my life."

Suddenly, he raised his head, pale eyes wild. "You have to go. I'll send you to your family in Autumn Court. They will hide you - royal family won't be able to forcibly take you. Not without risking a war. We can say that you ran away. Yes. That could work." He stood up, pacing.

"Papa, no," I stood up too. "You can't do that! Royal family could take it as a betrayal and punish you for that."

"Who cares what will happen to me? As long as you are safe, everything would be okay."

I hugged him, crying to his shoulder, willing him to understand.

"I care, dad," I sobbed. "I won't allow it. I'll rather go to Mountain Home and endure it. I will live as up to now and-"

"You can't not use your powers for the rest of your life. It's too dangerous. It could kill you. It's already causing you so much pain."

I looked him into the eyes, determined. He was my only living family, the only person I held dear in my life. I wouldn't let anything bad happen to him. I couldn't. "No! I can do it. I wil go!"

* * *

It was already late at night when I finally returned to my bedchambers. I was exhausted. It took some time to persuade my father, but at last he agreed. It hurt so much to see him in such a state, so sad and broken. However, there was no way around this. I had to do as I was ordered by High Lord and marry his son, Kallias.

At dinner, father broke the news to Morena and her son. Morena made a big scene, but over all she seemed happy to get rid of me. Zima took it seemingly calmly. He didn't say a word and frowning stared at his plate with dinner he hadn't touched. I had a bad feeling about that, his words still ringing in my ears.

One day, you will be mine. You can't escape me.

Maybe this wedding was the getaway from this situation I prayed for, given by the Mother herself. The question was whether it was reward or different form of punishment though. Anyway, I had no saying in it and had to obey.

After the dinner, I spent the rest of the evening at father's study, talking with him about everything and nothing. He wasn't a drinker, yet he opened a bottle of wine and offering me a glass, we gazed to the flames in hearth until we grew too tired and called it a night.

I reached for the door handle of my bedroom, the metal cold in my hand. I twisted it and opened the door, already excited to dive under the thick and warm comforter while soft crackling of fire would lull me to sleep. I halted as the gust of freezing cold air rolled out from inside, biting into my flesh. I suppressed the urge to tug the fur cloak closer and looked around, or at least tried to. Curtains were closed, the room was completely dark except of few last coals in hearth. I heard movement from somewhere near my bed, soft rustling of the sheets. Someone or something was here.

A pale big hand with long fingers shot out from the darkness, grasped my arm and pulled me in. The door closed with loud click, followed by the sound of lock. I was trapped. I was so scared I couldn't make a single cry as I was nudged backward and fell on the bed. The person straddled me, trapping me under their heavy body, hand on each side of my head. The smell of strong alcohol filled my nose.

"You can't escape me."

I cringed at the hoarse deep voice, the voice I knew. Whole my body started to shiver. I clenched my teeth, but even that couldn't stop their chatter. It was Zima, my very drunk step-brother.

"You are mine and you always will be."

His cold fingers wrapped around my throat, slightly squeezing as if testing it. Then they slowly slid down to my chest and under the dress, leaving a burning pain wherever his skin met with mine. He yanked on the collar with such strength that the fabric had torn. The freezing cold clenched its claws into my skin and I cried out in pain and horror.

"I won't let some brat to take what is mine. To touch what belongs to me. This all is mine, only mine."

He sounded like a crazy man. His cold hands cupped my breasts and pushed them together while his face nuzzled between them. His wet tongue licked my skin and sucked on my nipple and I cried and screamed. The pain his cold touch caused me, was agonizing, much worse than the horror of being so helpless. I tried to push him away, punching his ribs and anywhere I could reach, yet it seemed he didn't even notice.

I was dizzy and nauseous. Just when I thought I wouldn't be able to take it anymore and faint, the doors in connected sitting room opened and a maid called out.

"My lady, your father is sending you a tea! I brought also your medicine!"

Zima stilled, listening.

"My lady?"

He cursed and his weight disappeared. The window on the other side of room opened, letting in even more of the coldness and he was gone. I managed to sit up and pull the fur cloak over the torn dress with trembling fingers just before the door opened and maid peeked in.

"My lady..? For Mother's sake!" she wailed. "Why it is so freezing cold here? My lady, are you okay? Why is even the window ajar?"

It was Lucy, a young maid who began to work here just recently. Unlike older maids, she was very kind to me and often came to help me dress or brought me a tea. She immediately ran to the window and shut it close, locking it. She turned on few lights and add logs to the hearth. When the fire came to live again and flames started to dance over the log, she rushed to me.

"My lady, are you all right? You are so cold and shivering. What happened?"

I tried to hold it back, but when she started to rub my arms and back to warm me up, I burst into tears.

"I'm so happy to see you, Lucy."

"Everything is okay now," she comforted me. "What happened?"

I cried even harder. I couldn't tell her. I couldn't tell anyone about this. Who would believe me anyway. And the moment my father would find out.. I didn't even want to think how he would react. It would break his weakening heart for sure. I didn't want to lose him. He was my only family.

Lucy just pressed her lips together and brought in the tea.

"Here. Drink this, my lady. It will warm you up."

I reached for the cup. The fur cloak a bit loosened and Lucy gasped.

"My lady! Your neck! You have frostbite all over your throat!"

The breath hitched in my throat, panic rising. I had to come up with something and very fast. If she noticed that it was in shape of a hand, that my dress was torn and the wounds on my chest.. She was clever girl, she would piece together what happened.

"I-it's nothing. It will heal in no time. Could you prepare me a bath, please? I'm really cold."

She nodded, but her gaze lingered on my neck, brows furrowed.

"It's only good that you will leave soon," she mumbled and left.

I swallowed hard. She knew. With such, all servants probably knew, yet they never said anything. They never helped me nor said anything to my father. When it came to the servants who worked here since before I was born, it wasn't so surprising. They couldn't care less for me. However, when even those who came recently, didn't say a word.. well.. It had to be because of Morena. She most likely threatened them all.

Dread washed over me. Maybe after all it was really good that I would leave soon. If only to get rid of Zima and his mother. But what about my father? What would happen to him after that? More I thought about it, more restless I grew. If only father could stay in the capital with me.

That night I couldn't sleep. The bath helped a great deal and warmed me up, yet I couldn't stop shivering, jolting at the slightest sound. The wounds healed really fast, however my heart needed much longer.

Most of the time before the day of the wedding, I spent locked in my chambers or with father in his study. I couldn't relax even when Lucy told me that Zima left the castle and wouldn't be back before I would leave. Last days at my home I spent in constant state of alarm and haste, preparing to leave my old life and to survive the new one in capital with faeries I'd never met.

And at last, the final day of my current struggles came.

[pedroscurls]

christmas confessions (pt. 2 - day 2)

summary: logan knows how important christmas is to you, so he goes out of his way to make his home feel more festive. for you. pairing: origins!logan howlett x fem!reader content warnings: lots and lots of flirting here, lingering touches, almost kiss!, slow burn, best friends to lovers, no physical description of reader, no use of y/n. word count: 2.5k a/n: every time i write for this two, i'm trying so hard to stick with my outline and not just have them kiss lol. but i promise the slow burn will be worth it. hope y'all are having an amazing december so far 💛💙 pt. 1 - pt. 3 | series masterlist.

DAY 2 — After Logan got home from the store last night, he realized he couldn’t sleep. Not when you were just feet away, sleeping soundly in his home. He didn’t know how to decorate, but he spent all night trying to make his home look more festive for you. He managed to get a six foot Christmas tree (fake, not the real kind) and a variety of Christmas lights and ornaments. 

He had only fallen asleep on the couch once he had finished decorating, the sun now peeking through his curtains. He heard the quiet creaking of his floorboards, followed by your soft footsteps coming from the guest bedroom. He only had a few hours of sleep, but he couldn’t help the excitement he felt knowing that you’re still here. With him. 

Logan stands from the couch and stretches his arms above his head, letting out a quiet groan at his tight muscles. He walks over to the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee for you as he looks out the window – his entire front driveway is covered in a sheet of snow and it is still coming down with no sign of stopping. 

Slowly, he turns around and takes a look at the decorations he put up and lets a proud smile line his lips. For someone who didn’t find the need to decorate or even celebrate the holidays, Logan did a pretty damn good job. It felt more cozy, more homey and it helped knowing that you were here too. 

When he hears the door open, Logan lets out a nervous breath and walks back towards the living room. He sees you come down the hallway, having put on one of his hoodies that you had stolen so long ago. Your hair is slightly messy and you’re rubbing your eyes, a quiet yawn escaping your lips. He can’t help but smile at the sight of you, his hands itching and yearning to reach out for you to pull you into his arms. 

“Morning,” he says quietly. 

You smile first and then open your eyes to look up at him. “Morning, did you sleep –” Then, your eyes catch the Christmas tree at the corner of the living room, followed by the Christmas lights adorning the entire room, hung across the fireplace and around the large windows. 

“Logan…” you whisper, eyes lighting up at the decoration, at the thought of him doing all of this for you. “Did you do this?”

Logan nods and brings a hand to rub the back of his neck nervously. “Yeah. I left last night to grab some things before the weather gets worse and–” he lets out a grunt when you jog towards him, arms immediately wrapping around his frame. Instantly, his strong arms move around your waist, holding you tightly to him. “I take it you like it?” he chuckles.

“Logan, I love it,” you whisper against him. “You really didn’t have to do this, but–”

“Like I said last night, I know how important the holidays are to you, sweetheart. If you’re gonna be stuck with me for the next week, the least I can do is make it feel like it’s Christmas.” 

You pull back to look up at him, eyes watery at the gesture and it’s in this moment you wonder what would happen if you were to kiss him – what would the consequence be and did you really care? You keep your eyes on his, noticing the way his own soften at the sight of you. “Thank you, Logan.” 

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” Logan whispers quietly, bringing a hand up to rest against the side of your neck. He brushes his thumb across your jawline, gazing into your eyes. He can see it glistening with unshed tears and a hint of appreciation. He sees your gaze drift to his lips and he takes a step closer, feeling your own hands to rest against his chest. 

“Logan–”

“Bub–”

You both say simultaneously, slowly inching closer and closer until the sound of the coffee maker beeps, pulling you both out of whatever trance you were under. Clearing your throat, you pull away from him and turn back around to gaze at the decoration that Logan had put up for you. You try to find a good explanation for why he went out of his way to do this for you – a friend – but you can’t seem to find a reasonable one. Your mind drifts to the possibility of the feelings you have for him being reciprocated, but then you remind yourself of the pain that Logan has endured. 

Maybe being his friend is all you can ever be. 

Logan watches you walk towards the tree, hands reaching out to touch the variety of ornaments he put up. He bites his lower lip as he thinks back to just how close you were leaning into him, how close your lips were to his. He wonders what would happen if you both had leaned in, if you both had just given in. Logan knows that he’d be incredibly happy with you, knows that he’d spend the rest of his days making you happy, but there’s a fear that settles in the pit of his stomach and battles with the love he has for you in his heart. He can’t lose you. He’s lost so many people he’s loved already and he can’t lose you. 

So, being your friend is all he can ever be. 

Even if it pains him. 

“Did you have breakfast?” you ask him, biting your lower lip as you motion to the kitchen. 

“Not yet. You gonna cook for me?” he grins, following you into the kitchen. 

“I mean, it’s the least I can do for you. First, for letting me stay here for the week and secondly, for decorating for me.” 

“Well, I have no choice in the matter of you staying here,” Logan teases. “But I’d do anything for you, bub. You know that.”

You roll your eyes playfully, gently nudging him with your shoulder as you grab a mug from his cupboard and pouring yourself a cup of coffee. Logan crosses his arms over his chest, reveling in how comfortable and how normal having you here in his home is. He opens the fridge for you and hands you the creamer, eyes sparkling in his gaze as he looks at you. 

“So, I figure I’d gather some wood before we really get snowed in,” Logan says, leaning against the counter of his kitchen as he watches you pour a decent amount of creamer into your coffee. He smiles to himself, seeing you take a sip of the warm liquid and letting out a hum of approval.

“Do you think it’s safe though?” you ask, looking out the window to see the snow continuing to come down. “It looks like it’s not stopping and I really don’t want you to be freezing out there–”

“Regenerative powers, remember?” Logan chuckles. “But I like the fact that you’re worried about me,” he winks. 

“Oh stop,” you answer, shaking your head as you hold the warm cup of coffee between your hands. “Would it be a bad thing if I was worried?” 

Logan smirks, uncrossing his arms and resting it back against the counter as he leans forward. He watches your gaze move along his flexed arms and to his chiseled chest. “No, it wouldn’t. I like that you get worried. Makes me feel special.”

You clear your throat and use your free hand to gently rest your hand on his chest. You lean up, stepping into his personal space as you hear a breath hitch in his throat. “I thought we established that you already are special, Logan.” 

Logan bites his lower lip, eyes moving down to your hand. His mind drifts to the moment you both shared in the living room and he reaches up to take your hand in his. He plays with your fingers and gently brings your hand to his lips, pressing a light kiss on your knuckles and he hears you let out a quiet gasp. 

“You’re too good to me, baby.”

Baby. You feel your heart skip a beat as you watch his lips press against your skin, feeling the softness of his lips with the contrast of his facial hair tickle your knuckles. You had let out an unintentional gasp, placing your mug of coffee on the counter.

“You’re flirting, Logan,” you point out, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“Yeah? You like it?” 

“I’d say it’s dangerous,” you tease, moving your hand to rest on his cheek. Logan leans into your touch, keeping his lips pressed against the pad of your thumb once he feels it brush against his lower lip. 

“I do like a bit of danger,” Logan whispers. 

“And what happens if I flirt back?” you ask, taking a step closer to him as you feel the heat radiating from his body. 

“Guess you’ll just have to find out.” Logan grins.

You shake your head and drop your hand from his cheek, gently pushing away from him. “You’re a tease, Logan.”

“Yeah, but you make it easy, bub.” He pushes off the kitchen counter and leans in to gently kiss your cheek, hand dropping to your hip. “I’ll leave you to cook then. Knowing you, you’d probably just kick me out of my own kitchen.” 

You look up at him, eyes rolling in his direction. “The last time you helped, we ended up ordering pizza.” 

Logan chuckles. “Not my fault.”

“It was indeed your fault!” 

“I beg to differ.” 

“Okay, out.” you giggle, gently pushing him back and away from the kitchen. 

Logan nods and then walks out of the kitchen, turning to look over his shoulder at you. He smiles to himself, the love he feels for you coming up to the surface. He tries to remind himself that this can never happen, that you will never be his, but it’s moments like this where he’s willing to cross that threshold and tell you how he feels. 

How he has been feeling. 

—

After breakfast, Logan had pulled out more ornaments that he bought late last night. While there were ornaments that he had put up last night, he figured that you’d want to decorate too and Logan was more than happy to do anything that would put a smile on your face. So, he let you turn on some music while he started the fireplace, warming up the entire cabin. You were already on your second cup of coffee, swaying your body to the music that filters his home. He leans back against the couch and watches you with a loving gaze. If all his Christmases turned out like this, Logan was sure that he’d love the holidays more. 

“Get off your ass and help me, Logan.” you say, taking him out of his thoughts. 

“But you’re doing so good without my help,” he chuckles, standing from the couch and rounding the coffee table. Logan grabs an ornament from the container and looks at the three, feeling you lean against his side. He looks down at you and finds you gazing up at him with the same smile and look in your eyes that had captivated him the first time he met you. “What?” he asks. 

“This is nice,” you whisper. “Decorating with you.” 

He chuckles and hooks an ornament onto the tree, turning to face you. “It’s tolerable.” 

You feign a gasp and grab a few more ornaments, tongue sticking off to the side as you strategically place the ornaments on the tree. “Oh please,” you scoff. “Something tells me you actually like decorating.” 

Logan shrugs. “It helps when I know that it’d put a smile on your face.” 

You look over at him, biting the inside of your cheek. You’re used to this – Logan never did hide his desire to make you happy, to make you smile or laugh, but it feels different this time. There seems to be a hidden meaning behind his words – something that the both of you were too afraid to say, or admit. 

“So… Every year, I expect your home to be decorated.” 

“Only if you get stranded here again,” he grins. “Otherwise, no decorations.” 

“But look how amazing your home looks, how more cozy it feels.”

“You tellin’ me that my home is otherwise boring without all of this?” 

You laugh. “I mean, if the shoe fits…”

“Oh, that’s harsh,” Logan grins, reaching out for you. You take a step back, knowing exactly what he’s about to do. He narrows his eyes and takes a step forward, grabbing onto the fabric of your hoodie and pulling you into him. Your body collides into him as he wraps an arm around your waist and uses his free hand to begin tickling your side. Instantly, your laughter fills his entire home, mixing in with the sounds of the music and crackling of the fire from his fireplace. Logan couldn’t remember the last time that he felt this happy, this at peace. 

“Logan!” you exclaim, trying to push his hand away but knowing that it’s just a losing battle. He’s significantly bigger and stronger than you. “Okay, okay!” you say between giggles, squirming against him. “I’m sorry! I take it back!” 

Logan smiles to himself and slowly stops his movements, instead moving his hand to your hip. “Okay, apologize appropriately.”

You let out a quiet huff, trying to catch your breath. “I’m sorry, Logan.” you bite your lower lip and feel his grip around you loosen. “I’m sorry that your home is so boring without me and these decorations!” you finish, turning on your heel and running from him. 

Logan laughs to himself and jogs after you – it doesn’t take him long to reach you though because he wraps his arms around your waist from behind, holding you flush against him. He buries his face against the side of your neck, hearing a quiet gap of surprise escape your lips. “Now, that wasn’t so nice, was it?” 

Your hands immediately move to rest over his own, lacing your fingers with his as you lean back against him. You shut your eyes, resting the back of your head against his shoulder as you feel his beard brush against the side of your neck. “So, you can tease me, but I can’t tease you?” you point out, glancing over at him. 

Logan narrows his eyes and gently pulls away, turning you around to look down at you. “Okay, I’ll let that one slide. But I will admit…” he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “My house is boring without you. You bring life into it. You make it a home.” 

Your eyes soften instantly, clearing your throat as you look into his eyes. You’re about to say something, about to mention how his home is where you feel the most comfortable, the most safe, but he takes a step back and points towards the front door. 

“I’m gonna go and get that wood. Save the ornaments for later, we can decorate more tonight.” Then, he turns on his heel and walks towards the front door. You watch him pull on a large and puffy coat, sliding into his boots and putting on a beanie. He smiles over at you and then opens the door, stepping out into the snow.

---

taglist: @kellyxo1 @misscrissfemmefatale @mooneyloveydovey @oatmilkriver @wolviesgirl

[prettiestlovergirl]

EAT YOUR YOUNG (part one)

tw: MDNI; fem!reader; ravenclaw!reader; hidden identites; teasing; masks; french! mattheo riddle. no active smut just yet.

concept: hogwarts is having a masquerade ball and the student body has taken it amongst themselves to ensure everybody's identity remains a secret. tonight will be about shedding your inhibitions and exposing who you really are. song: eat your young by hozier.

a/n: this came to me in a dream after i finished another cinderella story (the one with selena gomez) and then i had to write it djfgnsf. this is PART ONE!! had to cut it into two bc it was getting long, promise part two will be extra smutty. enjoy, my lovelies! 𓆩♡𓆪

tonight, you were determined to try something new.

in your regular day-to-day life, you had a fairly generic life. you got good grades, you were a good student, you hung out with your small group of friends, you just... didn't do anything outside of the norm.

you didn't really flirt with cute guys or go to parties and get drunk. really, you didn't do much of anything that would bring a lot of attention to yourself.

so tonight, when your best friend insisted on you going to the masquerade ball with her... you decided you were going to be someone brand new.

for one night, and one night only, you were going to be open and free. no names, no rules, no boundaries. as long as you wore this pretty white mask, you were going to have fun.

you'd left your best friend to pick out your masks and dresses, knowing that if you chose you would pick the safe options, and that's not what you wanted. if you were really doing this, you needed to be out of your comfort zone.

your mask was absolutely gorgeous. it was white and covered in gold tipped feathers, reminiscent of a dove. and your dress? god, it was fucking stunning.

the material of the dress was gold satin that flowed down your body perfectly, the back of it an open crisscross that exposed more skin than you were used to.

you made a mental note to thank your friend for this tomorrow. if there was one thing she had, it was good taste. she knew you and picked out the best possible outfit for you.

but now that you were here, in your gorgeous dress and mask, you were insanely nervous. it was exciting, of course, getting to be a new person for the night, but still, it was brand new.

mattheo riddle was definitely excited for this masquerade ball.

already, he could have just about any girl he wanted. it was that bad boy charm that had just about any girl hooked on him with a single wink.

he looked at this evening as a sort of... challenge for himself. no one would know it was him, he wouldn't have his reputation to back him up when he started to flirt. he had to rely solely on his skills, it was exciting.

he'd spotted you first.

he was in the middle of a conversation with draco, taking a survey of the room when you arrived. you were a gold fleck in a sea of dark blues and blacks, it wasn't hard to track you as you made your way in.

you didn't notice his stare until you turned to do your own survey of the room and caught the man staring intently at you. his entire outfit was a stark contrast to yours.

he wore a black button up with the cuffs rolled up and black jeans that outlined his muscled legs. he looked mouthwateringly delicious, and with the way his lips quirked up when you caught him staring? he knew it.

you shot him a wink before turning and walking in the opposite direction, feeling the heat of his gaze on your back as you got lost in the sea of masked students. normal you would have gone towards him, but tonight?

tonight you felt like playing the long game.

mattheo's eyes sparked when you walked farther away from him, you were exactly the challenge he had been hoping for. fly as far away as you want, petite colombe (little dove). the night would end with your lips on his, that was a guarantee.

you walked over to the food table, leaning over to grab some punch and letting your dress glide up, revealing more of your plush thighs to him and the rest of the room.

môme (brat), he thought, his tongue gliding over his suddenly dry lower lip. draco continued to go on about.... something, but mattheo's attention was solely on you.

he wanted nothing more than to grab your hips and bend you over, smacking your ass until the skin was a deep red and his hand stung. he wanted to drag has hand between your thighs, feel the way they were soaked in your arousal.

you could still feel his eyes on you, but you didn't look back at him. you grabbed your drink and took a sip, excited butterflies floating in your stomach. you'd never played this game before, never been chased and tracked like this. it was exciting.

"wanna dance?" a voice asked you, snapping you out of your thoughts as you looked to see a different guy standing in front of you, instantly being struck by deep blue eyes. "i'm sorry, what was that?" you asked, having to shout over the music as you looked to him.

"i asked if you wanted to dance." the new guy shouted back. you glanced over at the brown-eyed man still watching you from a distance, although now his gaze had shifted towards blue eyes and narrowed.

you couldn't stop the grin breaking out on your face as you nodded, placing your hand in his happily. "i'd love to." you stated, tossing your cup into the trash and letting blue eyes lead you back towards the dancefloor.

mattheo watches as you and blue eyes dance on the floor, a smirk on his face as he sees just how bad of a dance partner he is. you look fucking stunning, your body free and weightless as you sway your hips to the beat. blue eyes on the other hand?

he's not equipped to handle you the way mattheo can. he doesn't tease you while you dance, doesn't run his hands over every inch of exposed skin, doesn't murmur filthy things in your ear to make you blush.

he let it go on for a bit longer, wanting to see you suffer a bit for teasing him the way you did, before making his way down to get rid of him.

"i'll take it from here." mattheo stated firmly, tapping blue eyes on the shoulder and then shooing him away. you bit your lip gently as you heard his voice, all deep and rough.

"i was dancing, you know." you hummed, resting your head back against his chest as you went back to swaying your hips to the music, his hands gliding down your body.

"'m not sorry, petite colombe (little dove). your body deserves to be fucked right, to be worshipped. he's got nothing to offer you." he murmured in your ear, making you shiver at his hot breath on your skin.

"and you think you do?" you asked teasingly, chest heaving as his hands continued to run over every inch of your body he could reach while your hips swayed together.

"oh, petite colombe (little dove), i know i do." he smirked, his voice deep and so full of lust it made your thighs squeeze together. he brushed his thumb over your lower lip, smudging your perfectly lined lipstick onto your chin.

you looked straight up at him, head falling back onto his chest so you could look right into his eyes. he nearly groaned, feeling your ass pressing against his bulge and providing delicious friction.

he pushed his thumb into your mouth, surprising you slightly. you flicked your tongue against the digit, staring right back into his eyes as a million images popped into his mind. "fuck. let me have you, petite colombe (little dove). let me fuck you like you deserve."

you suck on his thumb harshly as you consider his words. isn't this exactly what you wanted from tonight? a free moment, away from yourself? his eyes nearly roll into his head as your tongue expertly sucked the skin.

"okay."

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ

[physics-of-one-piece]

Oh gosh thank you for the tag physics, I'll make a post about my wips too, all art of course, but before I do that I need to know more aboit this one:

"I’ll build castles for you, my love (look at me, not my brother)"

All of the wips sound lovely, can't wait for them🫶

Aaaaa, @skullfacedlady I can't wait to see what you're working on! 💕🫶🏻❤️

Oh, "I'll build castles for you, my love (look at me not my brother)"

(sighs wistfully)

This is my baby. The original. The LEGEND. The one that started it all with the Rosinante's Wife!Reader trope. Where to even start with this one? First, I'd like to link all the posts I've made up until now about this fic, it includes scenes, as well, if you want to read them.

Snippets of Doflamingo x Reader in the fic ie first ever post of the fic, the og, the LEGEND

Things Doflamingo does & says in "I’ll build castles for you, my love"

Things Rosinante does/says in the fic + Rosinante’s thoughts before he dies scene snippet

Rosinante’s Crew (Crow Corps), scenes with them + scene of Doflamingo interacting with them after Rosi’s death

More scenes from the fic, including Rosinante x Reader Scene, Rosinante & Law Scene, Doflamingo x Reader Scene

Another Doflamingo x Reader scene from the fic

How Doffy shows acts of care for Reader by providing financially for her in the fic (though this is overall for his character)

Now, let's start on explaining some more about it. The title is inspired by that thought I had when I looked at these two Donquixotes side-by-side. Like. Reaaally looked. They look very similar to each other. Their faces are nearly exactly the same at FIRST GLANCE (they have distinctive differences but a normal person wouldn't notice that from a simple glance). Usually people would say Rosinante looks like Doflamingo, except here, you meet Rosinante first.

So to you, Doflamingo resembles Rosinante when his hair is down. It's only a second, but your eyes completely change for that split moment when you think he's Rosinante. And Doflamingo notices this - it's very easily noticeable. And it fckn... Annoys him. A lot 🤣. Bcs Doflamingo was never told "oh you look like your brother" it was Rosinante who always experienced that sentence. So it's a real punch in the gut for Doffy, including his pride. Especially as he falls in love with Reader. Reader has (understandably) preconceptions about Doflamingo. So Doflamingo needs to break that preconcepted image Reader has of him so she can truly see him. It's a new experience for him.

The fic, originally, at its first outline, was only Doflamingo x Reader. But then I wanted to flesh out the entire story and Rosinante & Law happened, and they became their own chapters, and fit into the story so well, and it was my first attempt at Rosinante x Reader and damn it pulled on my heartstrings.

The Doflamingo in this fic is the Dressrosa Takeover Doflamingo (he hasn't taken over Dressrosa yet at all when he meets Reader, he simply cuts his hair short and changes his entire style after entering the Grand Line in this fic)

Why?

BECAUSE I ADORE HIM. He is HANDSOME AS HELL. WOW. JUST. WOW. And I needed to write sth with him and the idea just came. He still has a bit of his upward spikes, so when they go down they cover his forehead probably exactly like Rosinante's. And that fucks up your mind. It's an absolute mindfuck.

The story can be separated in 4 Arcs, which are for now the chapter titles.

The Marine - Chapter 1

Rosinante x Reader - it spans throughs years of Rosinante's life in the marines + meeting Reader & getting married, ends with him going on the Donquixote Pirates Mission

The Sick Boy - Chapter 2

There are 3 weeks of emptiness between when Doflamingo tells Rosinante about the Op-Op Fruit and Minion Island. These three weeks are all in Chapter 2, where Rosinante takes Law to you so you two can care for him and keep him alive. It focuses on Law, Rosinante's death (the only Minion Island scene for now), and Law's journey back to you to tell you the truth of what happened - with a polar bear and two boys sneaking into the submarine with him on the way 🤣. It ends with Rosinante's funeral and Law officially forming the Heart Pirates. ❤️‍🔥

The Warlord - Chapter 3

Doflamingo x Reader - This one is finally very much Reader's POV focused, with a bit of Doflamingo's POV as well. This part covers the next nine months of Reader's pregnancy, and Doflamingo's visits to Marineford during the weekends. There are so many things here — fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, domestic life, humor, Doflamingo singing while he cooks in a pink apron with a flamingo drawn on it with "Kiss the flamingo 🦩"... Doflamingo knocking on your window drenched like a pink cat and stripping naked while your back is turned, Doflamingo being an absolute demon you should not mess with (but you do) but also a soft three meter meow meow 🥺. Also the best support during pregnancy. Seriously. He's great at that part. Also. Doflamingo's charming smiles. Doflamingo's puppy eyes. Doflamingo's. Fucking. Puppy eyes. Damn him (I say lovingly)

The King - Chapter 4

Doflamingo x Reader - Follows post-childbirth after Reader & Rosinante's child is born, and the next two years of Doflamingo & Reader raising the child and eventually the fall of Dressrosa and Doflamingo becoming its king... I can't say too much for this one cus I don't want to spoil it too much, but... It's good. So good. And is the last chapter of the story with a Happy Ending for Doflamingo x Reader. Also, 100% will try to write some smut for this chap, bcs I neeeed it at this point. 😩

Here is the summary I made for Doflamingo's Part ie The Warlord Part when I first thought this would just be a one-shot (ha, fool!)

Summary: To Donquixote Doflamingo, family is everything. A month after Rosinante’s death, Vergo delivers him damning information after he’d ordered a full deep dive into Rosinante’s fourteen years of absence — his brother had gotten married years ago. And not only that, his brother’s wife is pregnant. Doflamingo does something both impertinent and bold, just as any pirate — he enters the Grand Line with one goal — become a warlord, meet you, and be there for you during your pregnancy. He makes history, stealing and robbing Heavenly Tributes almost every few days, conquering the Grand Line and its underworld — and is made a warlord the next month.

As the pink flowers on the single pink cherry blossom tree in Marineford sway in the wind, so do the pink feathers of Doflamingo’s coat as he steps foot on Marineford a few days later to attend a meeting with the higher-ups — and meet you.

You don't need the curse of his protection or his blood money, or want him in your child’s life — your husband would roll in his grave. However, as a former Celestial Dragon and now a warlord, Doflamingo gains permission to visit you on weekends in Marineford, and not even Fleet Admiral Sengoku can do anything about him as the orders come from "up high". The newly appointed warlord is just as your husband described him as - stubborn, sadistic, enjoys mocking people, laughs at their suffering, and a manipulating schemer. As the warlord forces you to spend more time with him, you realise there is more to the older Donquixote than your late husband told you.

I'm trying to figure out which scene to send...

How about... The first meeting?

Excerpt:

You were about to tell Tsuru they brought the wrong pirate to meet you, but then, your gaze reached his face. You inhaled sharply, the thought coming before you could stop it because of the eerie similarity of the chin and cheeks, and for a split second you thought it was…

Rosinante.

But his skin was tanned, a bronze colour. And his smile... It was all wrong.

That wasn’t your husband’s smile. It was too sharp, too wide, too wicked.

Doflamingo was taller than Rosinante, but gangly and long-limbed like him. He was bigger than on his wanted poster. His hair was no longer long and uplifted like a dragon’s head, but instead the spikes were shortened, sticking upward.

Your heart picked up its beat, dread spreading in your stomach.

Evil emanated from every fibre of his being.

“There you are.” said Doflamingo victoriously, smiling all the way.

***

For what song would fit the fic... (Giggles evilly)

This one, Doffy is thinking this one 24/7

I don’t want to let your body go 🎶

Be my queen, I'll be your king 🎶

We'll be rulers I'll give you everything 🎶

I'll be your king, you'll be my queen 🎶

Unbelievers get down on your knees 🎶

We can rule the world 🎶

So be my girl 🎶

Thank you for the ask! Can't wait to see what you're working on! ❤️❤️❤️

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @queenmimi2817 @daydreamer-in-training

[redtsundere-writes]

mma fighter!sukuna ryomen x femalecoach!reader

Part 5. New & Old

Beginning. ← Previous | Next →

Summary: Sukuna is a world champion with anger issues. It's believed by many that he is untrainable. Yeah, you can't train him, but you can dominate him. Contents: Fighting. Sukuna being Sukuna. female reader being dom. Jinx AU (the BL, not the character from lol) Warnings: Mentions and sexual harassment. Angst. Humiliation. Cursed words. Word Count: 2743 words. A/N: Hello peeps! Another day, another slay. I really enjoy writing this fic and I am really happy that you seem to like it as well. Thanks! :3 Ps. Fuck me you Joo Jaekyung

“Cheers!” We exclaimed as we clinked our beers.

We had finally returned home after a great victory in Dubai. The bar was full, the food kept coming to our long table and the mugs seemed bottomless. The entire Team Black was gathered to celebrate the crushing victory of our terrifying champion. The air was filled with laughter, pleasant chatter and popular music. Sukuna was at the head of the table, watching everyone like the king he is while wisely drinking water.

“C’mon, drink one with your coach!” I asked with a goofy smile due to the effects of alcohol. I had two mugs already, and it was starting to show.

“No. Do you know how many calories that have?” He rejected me completely. 

There were few things I knew about him in the short time I have been his coach. Sukuna was grumpy, foul-mouthed and a jerk in every definition of the word, but his strongest characteristic is that he is ridiculously disciplined. He was a fucking ninja with incredible mental strength. He invited the whole team to eat burgers, wings, nachos and drown themselves in beer, while he just drank plain water and ate a veggie burrito. Sukuna was a great athlete, but he needed to learn how to relax once in a while.

“That only means that I have to maintain my title. I can't lose focus now,” he answered without paying me much attention. He surely noticed my drunkenness.

“That’s why you are always so cranky, you are always thinking of fighting and being a champion. It’s okay to enjoy life once in a while,” I tried again. 

“You enjoyed too much and look where you are,” he exposed me, pounding his glass against the table to emphasize his point. 

My body moved away from him at the loud bang. Everyone turned to look at us to see what it was all about. When they saw that it was just another Sukuna tantrum, they went back to their own thing. My hand went straight to my neck. I avoided his gaze and resigned myself to continue drinking. 

“You say it like it’s something bad,” I mumbled before taking a shy sip. 

“I refuse to become a coach,” Sukuna spat angrily. 

“You couldn’t become one even if you tried.” Someone behind me defended me out of the blue. 

I turned around, and my cheeks burned instantly. It was Choso. He's standing there like a guardian angel with a dark aura ready to defend me from a mean demon. He gave me a mischievous compliance smile that I couldn't help but mimic. 

“It’s good to see you, bro! Sit down,” Yuuji, who was seated next to me, offered him his seat. 

“Who the fuck invited you?” Sukuna frowned.

“Yuuji. He said he wanted to introduce me to someone,” Choso answered without looking away from me as he sat down. 

"This guy always knows how to surprise me," I thought as I scanned him from head to toe. Seeing him up close was like paying attention to a piece of contemporary art, simple yet complicated at the same time. His long hair was down and neatly combed, his unruly curtain bangs fell perfectly to the sides of his eyes, framing them perfectly. You could tell he was Sukuna's brother by his sharp features and outlined eyebrows. I could imagine him frowning without needing to experience it. 

“He is all yours. I’m drinking with Megumi,” Yuuji said, after introducing me to his brother for a second time. He went to the other side of the table to drink with his buddy, who was drinking alone. 

He gave me a discreet wink that I could only see. That's when I realized what he had done. This was the "date" he had arranged for us as a favor. I hadn't been on a date in years, so I was super nervous. How could I not be? I wasn't ready. My hair was in a tight ponytail, I was wearing athletic clothes, and I was tired from jet lag. He looked so good in his denim jacket, baggy jeans and his smooth cologne that brushed my nose.

“Yuuji has told me so much about you,” I said, trying to hide my shyness. 

“What a coincidence. Yuuji had also told me so much about you too.” That was unexpected. 

“Really? What did he tell you?” I asked, curious. 

“That you are patient, nice and very cute,” he complimented me with a shy smile. “He didn’t tell me that last thing, it's just what I am seeing,” he corrected. 

"He's so cute!" I thought excitedly. I could feel my poor heart in love running around in circles in my chest and my hands were starting to sweat, but I was calm. Who am I kidding? My cheeks hurt from grinning like an idiot. I felt like an awkward teenager in front of her out of her league crush.

“Is that your pickup line?” Sukuna joked. 

“Shut up!” I barked, so he wouldn’t interrupt us. “Thanks, I think you are really cute as well,” I answered Choso’s flirting, paying him all of my attention. He looked a bit shocked that I was able to scold his brother so easily. 

“Yuuji told me you used to fight in the UFC as well,” he said, ignoring Sukuna’s comment. 

“I was the best. There are some of my fights on YouTube, my nickname is ‘Medusa’s Snake’,” I flexed proud as I poured him a beer from the bucket in the center of the wooden table, surrounded by delicious greasy snacks.

“A very poetic nickname. Did you know Medusa means protector in Greek? I think it goes well with you.”

When my first coach named me like that, I was flattered. Medusa was the mortal gorgon, one of the three daughters of the god of the sea, Forcys, and the goddess of sea monsters and the dangers of the sea, Ceto. She became the main enemy of men after suffering a painful rape by Neptune in front of the sanctuary of Minerva. Although early poets depicted her as a monster from birth, along with her immortal sisters, later writers claim that she was originally a beautiful maiden, but was turned into a monster by Athena or Minerva.

“Thanks, you are the first one who says it,” I said as my cheeks blushed. “Do you like mixed martial arts?”

“I used to practice kick boxing regularly, until someone discouraged me from continuing.” I noticed that he looked at Sukuna when he said “someone.”

I couldn't blame him. The active UFC community is pretty small. I wouldn't want to continue coexisting in the same environment as my biggest traitor. Besides, sports publicists love to compare athletes who share some sort of bond and spread drama. If Choso kept practicing to a professional level, reporters wouldn't leave him alone if they found out the champ fucked his fiancée.

The night flowed its course and the conversation continued to flourish between us. We drank, laughed and shared funny anecdotes. Choso was so nice, just like Yuuji, but shared that strong aura like Sukuna. He was the best of both worlds. Elegant, kind and respectful. What more could a girl ask for in a man?

Choso had to leave early because he had to work in the morning. He said goodbye to everyone except Sukuna, and I offered to escort him out. The vibrant street was still alive despite the darkness that ruled the skies as it was so late in the afternoon. People were still passing down the street in beautiful attire under the colorful lights of passing bars and restaurants. It had been a pleasant evening. It had been a long time since I had had so much fun.

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Choso smiled friendly. His shoulders were relaxed, and his kind eyes conveyed to me that he was more comfortable than before. 

“I say the same thing,” I smiled at him as well. He slipped his hands into his pants pockets and avoided my gaze out of nowhere. That comfort turned to anguish again, so my smile gradually disappeared. 

“Yuuji told me you were interested in me…” he sighed. “Look, you are a great girl, but right now, I have a complicated situation with my brother, and dating his coach doesn’t sound like a good idea.” He scratched his neck embarrassed, still avoiding my sight. “So it was about that,” I thought. 

“I get it. Thanks for giving me a chance at least,” I said kindly. The last thing I wanted to do was make him feel bad for rejecting me, but I wasn’t going to give up so easily. At the end of the day, I am a fighter at heart. “The truth is that I am not planning on being his coach for a long time. Seeing him holding his belt with pride on the ring, reminded me that I will be there again one day.”

I caressed my injured area with nostalgia. I missed being the star with the white lights illuminating my every dangerous move. I missed the audience yelling my name with excitement as they watched me destroy another one of my opponents. I missed the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I fought for my honor. Choso looked at me again, seeming confused by my answer but hopeful for the explanation.

“What I am trying to say is that when I become a protector again, I’ll call you,” I said with a proud smile. His eyes widened, surprised when he understood what I was trying to say.  

“I’ll wait for your call then,” he smiled. 

With that, he kissed my blushing cheek goodbye and drove off down the sidewalk. As I watched him get into his car, I stood a while longer by the door processing what had happened that night. "You're going to be mine," I affirmed, confident.

Another day at the gym. Another day in hell. By this point the gym was my punishment on earth. Dealing with the devil himself was complicated, sometimes there were good days when he would do everything I asked him to do without batting an eye and others where the fights were no longer physical, but verbal. Over the months as his coach, I had learned to deal with his heavy attitude.

“¡Ten kicks!” I ordered as I placed the cushion he was supposed to kick at the height of my stomach. “1, 2, 3…!” I counted every hard kick. I made sure to hold the cushion tightly so it wouldn’t fly away. “…7, 8, 8, 8, 8…!” I repeated with a smug face. 

“Stop it!” He yelled without losing the beat. 

“Don’t give up! …8, 9, 9, 9, 9, 9…!” I yelled, gripping the cushion hard. Sukuna huffed but kept kicking like the champ he is. “…9, 10!” I finished counting after 30 kicks. 

“Go fuck yourself…” He sighed mad. 

“For that, another 10,” I said, pulling the cushion back up. 

“I missed seeing you like this.” 

My heart stopped the moment I heard that voice. I could recognize it in any place, time, or date. I knew exactly who it was and didn't want to turn around to confirm it, but I had to face it. The UFC world is small, so it was inevitable that we would meet again at some point, but I never thought it would be like this. Sukuna glared at the person behind me, sure he was wondering why a snoop was in his gym. I gulped dryly before confronting the biggest son of a bitch I'd ever met.

“Don’t frown like that, you will ruin your pretty face, beautiful,” he said with a pout. My jaw contracted when I heard such stupidity.

Naoya Zen’in. One of the best fighters in the Zen’in family, the current middleweight champion and my second coach. If I had to thank one person for teaching me how to deal with Sukuna, it would be this bastard. Because if I could survive him, I could survive anything. An arrogant, self-centered, stubborn man disguised as an angel incarnate. He was standing there with his stupid minions that followed him around like they were his ducklings.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked, mad at his bare presence. From my tone and volume, some fighters stared at the scene. 

“Sukuna lets you talk like that? I think you need a muzzle, bitch,” he smirked, as if it was something normal to say.

I wanted to beat him to silence. I let go of the pad with a thud and took off my protective gloves as I approached him to jump him. I was ready to beat the fuck out of him. I didn't care if I got fired, ruined my neck, or got beat to death, I had to get that stupid grin off his face no matter what. I couldn't let him say those kinds of things to me just because.

When I was about to jump out of the ring, Sukuna grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him. He forced me to stay close to his body, so I could only see his chest. I tried to break free from his grip, but his arm wrapped perfectly around my wait. My body trembled like a Chihuahua ready to bite. I looked him in the eye, asking him to let me handle this, but he ignored me.

“Can you leave my coach out of this?” He asked, clearly annoyed. 

“Yours?” Naoya laughed out loud. “She is mine since she gave me her weak ass,” he said with a wide grin full of confidence. 

I closed my eyes in embarrassment as soon as he said that. I didn't want Sukuna to find out like that. I wanted to erase him from my life forever, but he always managed to infiltrate like heavy humidity. I couldn't see him, but I knew he had a relaxed posture, his sharp eyes scanning my figure up and down and critiquing my current position.

“I don’t give a shit about what kind of relationship you have, but now, she only listens to me. You better get the fuck out of my gym before I release her so she can beat your ass,” he barked in my defense. 

I looked at him in surprise at that answer. His red eyes were calm but determined. He meant every word he said. If Sukuna allowed me to, I could beat him at my pleasure. I wasn't going to waste the opportunity, I would make him very proud.

“Get the fuck out?! I just arrived to introduce myself as your next opponent!” He yelled excitedly. The gym looked at him in shock at the statement, especially me. Sukuna was going to face Naoya for the belt of the light heavyweight category?! “The UFC accepted the fight today. I was so excited that I came all the way to see you! I am a big fan!”

“You already saw me, now fuck off. I won’t repeat myself,” Sukuna asked, surprisingly keeping his composure. 

“At least let me say goodbye to my cute wife,” Naoya pouted. 

“I am not your wife, motherfucker!” I yelled, turning around suddenly to dispute that fat lie he dropped. Sukuna held me back to not jump him. 

“Awww, just like the good old days,” Naoya grinned. “That’s how it is going to be then, see you later…” he turned around to go back from where he came from with his stupid side chicks. “…maybe sooner than you think,” he winked at me before leaving.

I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists in frustration at not being able to say anything else to her stupid face. I pulled myself out of Sukuna's grasp. We both stood in silence while the others murmured and whispered about the strange encounter. I didn't know how to explain the situation to him, I didn't even want to, but I had to.

“I…”

“I don’t give a shit,” he said before returning my gloves that I tossed earlier. “Let’s get back to work.” I took the gloves, relieved. 

“From now on, I won’t teach how to be a floor fighter,” I said as I adjusted my gloves around my fingers. “I will teach you how to kill that motherfucker,” I stated strongly. A wide grin appeared on his proud face. 

“You have my full attention now.”

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