#*gripping you by the shoulders* do you see my vision

[cameronsprincess]

Hi prettyyyy! I neeeeed jealous stepbro!rafe, maybe something like he catches you sneaking back in after seeing a boy, or sneaking out, your the brilliant writer so I know you’ll do absolute wonders with this idea!!! 💋💋💋

i love stepbro!rafe so damn much, ugh. thank you for this request and the kind words baby!🤍🤍

CW: smut! 18+ only! stepcest, mean!rafe, punishment, slight choking, ass slapping, fingering, dirty talk.

rafe masterlist | requests

you’d been waiting on the perfect time to sneak out and see jj, the pogue you were forbidden from seeing by your mother and your obnoxious stepbrother, rafe.

it was finally the night, your mom and ward being out of town for a business gala and rafe was at topper’s house, you were home alone.

or so you thought.

you had just finished the final touches of your makeup, grabbing your phone off the floor and shooting a quick text to jj, letting him know you were about to head his way.

gathering everything you’d need, you quietly make your way out of your bedroom. you turn to head for the spiral staircase, but you run into a wall— or rather, your stepbrothers chest. you fall backward onto your ass, a small groan falling from your lips as you slowly look up, finding rafe’s bright blue eyes glaring down at you.

a smile spreads across his lips. “and where exactly do you think you’re going?”

you slowly push yourself back to your feet, dusting off the back of your leggings before squaring your shoulders, looking up into rafe’s eyes.

“well, not that it’s any of your goddamn business, i’m going to a friends house.”

“a friend?”

you scoff. “yeah. a friend.”

crossing your arms across your chest, you let out an exasperated sigh. “look, rafe. i don’t know what your problem is with me, but it’s getting old. just let me go to my friends house, it’s not that big of a fucking deal.”

rafe takes a slow step toward you, his hands reaching out and gripping at your upper arms. he pulls you into him, dipping his head down, his lips brushing against yours as he whispers, “so much attitude for someone with no power here. mommy and daddy aren’t here to save you, princess, so i’d consider your next words very carefully.”

his eyes scan the length of your face, and you suck in a sharp breath. you squirm in his hold, trying to rip your arms out of his grasp, but it’s no use. rafe digs his fingers into your arms, making you whimper out in pain, but you still don’t back down.

fuck him and his thinking he can control you. fuck him for thinking he can tell you what to do, he’s your stepbrother, not your keeper. you lift your head, narrowing your eyes on his, “fuck you, rafe. you’re my stepbrother, why the fuck do you care about what the hell i do with my free time? you don’t see me crashing out over you spending nights out of the house, bringing girls in and out of your room, i don’t give a fuck what you do, so why the fuck do you ca-”

rafe’s right hand releases your arm, coming up and wrapping around your throat. he squeezes so tightly tears blur your vision. a silent scream escapes you as you kick your legs out, bucking and fighting against rafe’s hold on you. he pushes your back into the wall, your head banging harshly against it, causing a dull throb. he leans forward again, pressing his lips against yours in a messy, slow kiss.

at first you’re confused, this isn’t right, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think your stepbrother was hot. i mean… he was fucking gorgeous. you stop fighting against his hold, melting into his touch instead. you kiss him back hungrily, tongue swirling with his, teeth clashing against each other as you both breathe heavily against one another.

rafe breaks his lips from yours, reaching his left hand to the side and pushing open the door to your bedroom. he quickly yanks you inside, kicking it shut behind him as his lips find yours again. he drags you to your bed, falling back onto the end and dragging you across his lap. his fingers push into the waistband of your leggings, harshly tugging them down your thighs, letting them pool around your ankles. rafe groans when he sees you had no panties on.

“going to a ‘friends’ house with no panties on? such a dirty little thing aren’t you, princess?”

you whimper when his large hands firmly grope at your ass, kneading the flesh in his hands before he begins to run them down your thighs, reaching the heat of your soaked core. you feel his cock stiffen beneath your stomach, a whimper pulled from you as he runs his fingers through your slick folds.

your hips buck, soft whimpers and whines falling past your pouty lips as rafe teases at your entrance with his thick fingers.

“so wet, princess,” rafe groans, shoving his index and middle fingers inside your cunt, curling them slightly and toying with your g-spot. “you’re fucking mine. always have been, and i think it’s about time i show you that you belong to me.”

rafe’s fingers begin to harshly thrust in and out of your soaked pussy, the lewd noises of your arousal bouncing off the walls of your bedroom. the muscles of your thighs tighten, your inner walls contracting around his thick digits.

rafe lets out a dark chuckle, the pace of his fingers picking up. he fucks you hard and fast, that familiar fire burning low in your belly. this is so wrong, and you know it. you know rafe knows it. you might not be blood related, but he’s still your stepbrother. if your parents found out about this… ward would kill rafe.

your thoughts are interrupted when rafe’s low, raspy voice fills your ears. “pussy’s so wet and tight, my sweet little stepsister loves when i have my fingers stuffed inside her cunt, doesn’t she?”

“r-rafe… please?” you beg, another soft moan slipping past your parted lips. your eyes squeeze shut, your clit pulsing and walls clenching around his fingers.

“say it!” rafe shouts, slowing his fingers before completely stilling them inside you. “say you’re mine. say you won’t ever let another man touch you.”

you roll your hips, trying to push yourself to your release, but rafe’s free hand slaps against your ass cheek, a tingle spreading down your spine from the impact. “say it, princess, and i’ll let you cum.”

“i’m yours! all yours, rafe! please… please let me cum!”

rafe lets out a satisfied hum, his fingers pushing in and out of you again. his pace is rough and fast, “rafe… ‘m gonna cum… shit!”

your entire body jerks against his thighs, legs shaking as your orgasm rushes through you. rafe’s fingers fuck you through your high, only slowing when your body calms down, falling slack over his lap. he slowly pulls his fingers from inside you, rolling you over so you’re facing him, a wicked smile on his lips.

“such a good girl. this is our little secret, but you’re mine, princess. don’t ever fuckin’ think of pulling a stunt like this again.”

tagging some moots: @starkeysbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @rafeyscurtainbangs @starkeysprincess @littlelamy @httpsdrewstarkey @rafesbabygirlx @oceandriveab @nemesyaaa @kiiyomei @cameronwillow @bloodibambiidoll

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hi can I please get some iv x reader christmas smut? 🫦

Post Christmas release

Smut of course

It’s been quite a busy couple of days. But holidays were always like that. It was fulfilling but also draining. Since this was your first time trying to cramp seeing both families in the span of five days in different countries. It was the most fun you ever had and seeing everyone and sharing something that hopefully would turn into a tradition was special.

“I got it”, Ivy quickly took the bags from your hands, pushing his bent leg up to poke your ass. “There are more in the back”, you tried to get past him but he stepped right by the door blocking your path. “Just go up, gorgeous, I will take care of it”, you gave him a not-impressed look before sighing and turning to your shared cottage. The family smell of your home instantly washed over you. Making part of the exhaustion chip away. The sound of paws making your lips curve up.

“Hello, sweetheart”, you kneeled, trying to contain an overly excited lab that had been kindly looked after by your elderly neighbor. “I missed you too girly”, you nuzzled her face, as she whined in excitement switching from turning in circles to trying and push you over. “Can we unpack tomorrow the thought alone makes me want to cry”, Ivy huffed dropping your luggage at the corner before Cinnamon chose him to be his victim.

“We are adults we can do what we want”, you smiled watching them two before Cinamon took off to her toy box a habit of hers when she was too happy. “I need peace and quiet for like a month after that”, Ivy sighed pulling you up before resting his head on your shoulder. Your fingers instantly moved beneath his sweater as you tracked your nails over his back muscles, making him sigh in delight.

“Do you know what else i need?”, he muttered against your neck, nibbling at your skin ever so slightly. You simply hummed in response and Ivy wasted no time bucking his hips against you. The hard-on rubbing against your thigh making you chuckle. He had fought morning wood each morning. But over the five days, you just couldn’t bring yourself to have sex at the same house your family was in. Especially when in your parents house there was no lock on the door and even more so it was never quiet or quick when it came to you both.

“I thought the blowjob sorted it”, you mused pulling back slightly. “In my childhood bedroom where I always wanted to fuck my girl?”, he asked as if you had just stated the most stupid thing ever. “No it made it worse”, he added not waiting for your answer. You chuckled softly, “Did we finally tick everything off your teen bucket list?”, you raised your eyebrow, pulling at the very roots of his hair.

“Maybe… you just…”, his hand moved to cup your breast before a warm snout pressed between you two making you both look to the side. “Bunbun not now”, Ivy muttered, “Mom and dad need some adult time now. It’s very serious”, he leaned forward scratching her ear before motioning for her to walk. You knew how it went he always left her in his office. Something about tainting innocent souls. You took your time however to slowly peal your clothes off. Dropping it piece by piece on the floor as you made your way to the kitchen.

“Yn”, his voice rang out making you bite your lips. “Where were we… shit…”, he halted, eyes darkening. “We didn’t have dessert at your parents”, you smiled, pulling your legs apart as you leaned back on the kitchen counter. “Fuck you’re…”, he ran his hand over his mouth. “Dripping on the counter for you, you should clean it up”, you smirked dipping your fingers into the wetness before motioning him over with the same damp fingers. He crossed the distance between you two in a couple of steps before leaning in to lick your fingers clean.

“Ivy”, you sighed, biting your lip as you watched him. “You’re a fucking vision”, he grunted, leaning in to kiss your collarbones. His fingers gripped your thighs. His pants were now slick with your arousal. “I would eat you out but… I need to”, he whispered. It was his rule, one he rarely broke. He always made sure you had an orgasm before he slipped between your legs.

“Get up here”, you pulled at his sweater, bringing it over his head, tossing it to the side. “I'm sorry”, he muttered, “Just give me your dick and shhhh”, you pressed your finger against his lips, “You’ll feel better after”, without any more words you unbuckled his pants, wrapping your hand around his hard cock, pumping him a handful of times, slowing spreading the precum around. “Oh fuck”, Ivy grunted bucking into your palm. “It looks painfully hard, baby, let me help”, you whispered, angling him against your walls, throwing your head back as the head of his cock stretched you out. “I can’t go all the way”, he grunted through gritted teeth, “i will cum on the spot”. “Please”, you whimpered, wrapping your legs around his hips, feeling him stretching your walls even more.

“Come here”, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as he pulled your bare chest against his. Your nipples rubbing against him. “I love you so much you know that”, he mused, pressing himself even deeper. Your arms moved around his neck as you pressed yourself even closer to him.

“You feel”, ivy mused, “harder, please, fuck…”, you pleaded, and Ivy instantly picked up his thrusts. Making you moan out his name as you sank your nails into his biceps. “So wet”, he mused, nibbling at your shoulder as he bucked his hips, wedging his rock-hard dick into you over and over again not missing a beat. Fingers grasping your hips possessively. “Harder”, you urge him, feeling that cooling sensation building. “Baby”, he whined and you felt him throb as he pistoled into you with no mercy hitting just the spot you need to fall over the edge and then all you could feel was a throb after a throb as he spilled inside you. Lips pressed in a messy kiss as you both clung to one another. Riding the orgasm together till the very last blissful tingle. The lazy smile on his lips warmed your heart even more.

“Good?”, you ask brushing some of the hair away from his face. “Good?”, he asked, “Fucking amazing”, Ivy chuckled nuzzling against your neck. “You are my salvation”, he sighed, “okay, post orgasm poet”, you chuckled and Ivy instantly squeezed your ass pulling you full down onto him, making you whine, “carful, princess”.

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin-r]

Coming Home

What do you do after you watch the prison arc.

Because anyone of them( minus Garcia) would have survived. I can see it. Morgan would either gain a little respect or fear, JJ has been torchured for christ sake what's prison? Aaron Hotchner has the RBF to get him through at least a couple of months. Emily, Gideon, they would have made it. Not the same sure but not as bad.

But Spencer?

LIKE DO YOU SEE IT??? LOOK AT HIM!

MY BABY IS NOT SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHAT A PRISON LOOKS LIKE ON THE INSIDE. HE'S SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHAT HE SEES IN TAPES AND READS IN BOOKS!!

______________________________________________________________

So what do you do? I write a fanfic because it's Sunday (was) and I need ultra-specific medicine to heal my wounds.

______________________________________________________________

I'm comin' home, I'm comin' home

His keys gently clacked against the door, he gently twisted it in the lock and was greeted with a soft click. The door gently swayed quietly open,  the room was dark and quiet save a light from the bedroom. The smell of books greeted him and he noted how nothing had been touched before he…left.

Tell the world I'm comin' home

He’d seen his team earlier, He could still spell JJ’s perfume and Garcia’s cookies, he hugged his mom like he’d never before, she even remembered something and it was the icing on the cake.  She was there both mentally and physically and it really made him feel better. Her eyes weren’t cloudy with confusion like when he last saw her.

Let the rain wash away

The soft patter of the rain against the window got louder the more he entered the apartment. Non-threatening movement, he missed that. He softly closed the door and locked it behind him. He dropped his bag and heard shuffling from the bedroom. He unpacked his bags quietly and slipped out of his shoes.

All the pain of yesterday

He winced slightly, his leg was still injured and he knew he had to check it later but he had tunnel vision, he had been so lonely so on edge it physically hurt. The lone scar across his palm a dark reminder of the nightmares he survived, even though he’d call himself anything but-

A survivor

I know my kingdom awaits

He knocked softly on the bedroom door and opened it to be greeted with you in your nightwear. A pair of shirt and shorts he’s not seen for so long. You eyes lock and you start to tear up but he’s way ahead of you. He moves slowly like he’s trying not to scare you, he’s reaching out for you and before you know it. The two of you wrap your arms around each other and tears start flowing on both sides. 

“Spencer, oh my God! It’s really you? I’m not dreaming anymore? You’re really here? You’re free, you’re back!” You fingers grip his shoulder tight as bawl into his neck. He eases you onto the bed and kneels before you. He grasps your hands as he kisses it like a knight to his majesty.

“I’m so so sorry, I- I shouldn’t have lied to you. You trusted me and I lied to you,I am so sorry, I-” he cries deeper, his knees digging into the floor, crying into your hands, into your lap. He’s gripping you tightly, bawling. You quietly run your free hands into his curly brown hair, he briefly looks up at you and his red rimmed eyes. You then notice the black circles under his eyes. “I have no excuses.”

“You haven’t slept in so long, oh sweetheart,” you wipe his tears off his cheek and tilt his head up to you. You smile but it quickly falls before you plaster up a new one. He needed one. You kissed his forehead, your tears falling slightly onto his cheek. You giggle slightly as you wipe them as well.

And they've forgiven my mistakes

“If you apologise one more time, I swear to God I do not care if she’s some renowned assassin with contacts in every country, I will kill her with my bare hands, not even Emily’s silk tongue can get me off her cold corpse.” Spencer chuckles slightly as he buries himself more into you before looking back up at you.

“Oh baby…You haven’t been sleeping, a-are those faded bruises? Oh Spencer, what did they do to you in there?”

“I made a choice,” Spencer spoke, avoiding your eyes. 

“Did you think you might um-”

“Not make it back alive?” He smiled lightly before nodding. “Everyday for the past 3 months and 7 days, 12 hours, 13 minutes and 27 seconds until JJ got me out of there.”

I'm comin' home, I'm comin' home

“Oh Spence…We’ll talk about this later just–come here.” Spencer crawled into your arms and the warms nearly sent him to sleep. The prison was cold, day in and day out, his mattress was hard and hurt his back, he could almost see how many microbes were on the pillow he slept on. He didn’t trust the laundry even though he worked there. 

He briefly left after you convinced him to take a shower and change into a new pair of clothes, he promised to burn the ones he came in and the look in his eyes told you he’d meant it.

Tell the world I'm comin'

He looked at you as you patted right beside you. He slid in between the sheets and relaxed into your outstretched hands. The warmth enveloped him and he truly felt it.

Home.

[faithsotherhouseofchaos]

Lost fidget toy|| Mick Schumacher x autistic fem!reader

Summary — reader lost her fidget toy and Mick helps look for it

Word count — 733

Fluff

A/n- this was requested by an anon I hope they are still around and this is from my old tumblr account

Also I LOVE writing for autistic reader and reader with adhd since I have both

Y/N’s hands trembled as she tore through the drawer for the third time, her breathing uneven and shallow. Papers, pens, and random trinkets littered the floor around her, but the one thing she needed was nowhere to be found. Her fidget toy—the one item that grounded her, especially on overwhelming days—was missing.

“It has to be here,” she muttered, slamming the drawer shut with a little too much force. The noise startled her, a sharp sound in the quiet apartment, and her frustration bubbled over. “Stupid! So stupid!” she snapped at herself, tears blurring her vision.

She dropped to her knees, shoving aside the coffee table, the cushions, even the rug. Her movements became frantic, her chest tightening as her mind spiraled.

“Why do I always lose things? Why can’t I just keep track of one stupid thing?” she cried, her voice cracking as the first tear slipped down her cheek. “I can’t do this. I can’t—” Her words dissolved into a sob.

She sat back on her heels, gripping her knees as she rocked slightly, the overwhelming panic settling like a weight on her chest. Her breath hitched, her mind a chaotic mess of self-blame and worry.

The sound of a key turning in the lock startled her. The door opened, and Mick stepped inside, his usual cheerful expression instantly replaced by concern when he saw her on the floor amidst the chaos.

“Y/N?” he called gently, setting his bag down as he took in the scene. “What’s going on?”

She didn’t respond, her face buried against her knees. Mick crouched a few feet away, careful not to startle her further.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” he asked softly, his calm voice a stark contrast to the storm inside her.

Her head lifted slightly, tear-streaked cheeks and red, puffy eyes meeting his worried gaze. “I lost it,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I can’t find my fidget toy anywhere, and I’ve looked, and looked, and—” She broke off with a hiccup, wrapping her arms around herself.

Mick moved a little closer, his expression soft. “Okay. It’s okay. I’m here now. Let’s take a moment to breathe, yeah? Just focus on me for a second.”

“I can’t—I can’t breathe properly,” she stammered, her voice rising.

“You’re doing fine,” he reassured her. “Just follow me. In… and out.” He inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly, keeping his movements steady and exaggerated.

Her breaths hitched a few times, but eventually, she mirrored him, her shaky exhales gradually evening out.

“There we go,” Mick said with a small smile. “You’re doing great. Now, let’s figure this out together, okay? Where did you last have it?”

“I think… on the couch,” she murmured, wiping at her cheeks. “I was using it while I watched TV this morning.”

Mick nodded, his voice encouraging. “That’s a good start. Let’s check around there.” He moved to the couch, crouching to peer under it while carefully lifting the cushions.

Y/N sat still for a moment, clutching her sleeves tightly. Seeing Mick so calm and focused made the crushing weight in her chest a little lighter. She pushed herself to her feet and started clearing the scattered items, her movements still shaky but more purposeful now.

“Got it!” Mick exclaimed a few moments later, his voice bright. He pulled the small fidget toy from under the coffee table and held it up triumphantly. “Looks like it decided to hide from you.”

Relief crashed over her like a wave, and she rushed forward, taking the toy from him and holding it close to her chest. “Thank you,” she whispered, fresh tears spilling over—this time out of gratitude.

Mick straightened, his warm hands settling on her shoulders. “You don’t have to thank me. You’ve had a tough day, and that’s okay. I’m just glad you’ve got it back now.”

Y/N nodded, but the guilt lingered. “I’m sorry I freaked out. I should’ve—”

“Hey,” Mick interrupted, his thumbs brushing comfortingly against her shoulders. “Don’t apologize. Everyone has moments like this. You’re allowed to feel overwhelmed, and I’m here to help. Always.”

Her lips quirked into a small, grateful smile. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Mick grinned, pulling her into a warm hug. “Good thing you’ll never have to find out.”

As she fidgeted with the toy in one hand, Mick held her close, gently rubbing her back. For the first time all day, the tension in her body melted away, replaced by the soothing comfort of Mick’s presence.

And though the apartment still lay in disarray, nothing else mattered. Mick was here, and that was all she needed.

[aventurineswife]

Stages of Shadows: Final Chapter - The End... Or Is It?

The air felt thick with tension as [Name] and the other surviving contestant staggered through the backstage corridors, their feet pounding against the ground in a rhythm that was both frantic and heavy. [Name]’s grip on the other contestant’s arm was firm, pulling them along despite their shared exhaustion. Each step seemed to send ripples through their body, every muscle screaming in protest, but they couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when the weight of that memory—of the person they couldn’t save—was still fresh in their mind.

The blood. The agonizing helplessness.

The loss was unbearable, but they couldn’t dwell on it. Not yet. The vision of that face—still haunted them. They could still hear the echo of the gunshot. The coldness of it. The chill it left in the pit of their stomach. But there was no time for grief, no time for reflection.

They had to move forward. [Name] had made a promise to themselves, and to the others, that they would get out alive. And that meant pushing through the pain, pushing through the guilt.

The other contestant, equally drained, stumbled slightly as they kept pace. [Name] could feel their desperation, their shared desire to escape this place—this nightmare. But the reality of what had just happened pressed down on them like a weight. The person who had died…

They wouldn’t allow themselves to dwell on it. Not now. Not when there was still a chance for them to survive.

“Now, where do you think you two are going?” The voice was silky, but the weight behind it was undeniable.

[Name] froze in their tracks, heart pounding as the figure emerged from the shadows. The voice that spoke was cold, smooth, and laced with a hint of amusement, cutting through the tension like a knife.

A tall woman stepped forward, her appearance striking and enigmatic. Her long, wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders like a curtain of silk, and her pastel blue eyes—slitted like a serpent’s—glistened with a calculating gleam. She wore an extravagant ensemble, a mix of dark blue, white, and violet, with gold accents, adorned with ribbons, feathers, and jade pendants that seemed to sway with every movement. Her presence was commanding, and it was clear she was no ordinary figure.

“The surprise guest of honor, [Name], hm? And here everyone thought you went missing… after your round with Sunday.”

[Name] stopped in their tracks, a chill creeping up their spine. How did this person know who they were? Their mind raced for an explanation, but no clear answer came.

“Who are you?” [Name] asked, trying to mask the unease in their voice.

The woman smiled, a slow, knowing smile that barely touched her eyes. “Oh? My apologies for not introducing myself earlier.” She stepped closer, the sound of her heels clicking sharply on the floor. “The name’s Jade, Senior Manager in the IPC Strategic Investment Department and one of the Ten Stonehearts. Surely you’ve heard of me?”

Jade’s gaze was piercing, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched [Name]. “If not, then no problem. But, you see…” She paused for effect, her lips curling into a delicate smirk. “You can’t steal something that doesn’t belong to you.”

The words landed like a blow, and [Name]’s heart skipped a beat. The weight of Jade’s presence was undeniable. There was an air of control about her—an aura that suggested she had everything figured out, and everyone else was simply a part of her intricate game. [Name] could feel their pulse quickening, the urgency of the moment building with every passing second.

“Steal?” [Name] repeated, barely able to keep the suspicion from their voice. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Jade’s smile grew wider, her lips curling like a serpent about to strike. “Oh, don’t be coy. You’re not just some innocent contestant, are you? You’ve got more ambition than that. And right now, you’re on the verge of taking something you have no right to.” She tilted her head, observing [Name] with interest. “But don’t worry, I’m not here to punish you… Not yet, at least.”

The air around them seemed to thicken as Jade’s gaze lingered, her next words heavy with implication.

“You see,” she continued, her voice smooth and measured, “I’m a patient woman. I’ve learned that some things take time. Some things… are worth waiting for. But when you’ve been as good at reading people as I am, you know exactly when the right moment has come. And trust me, [Name], the moment you’re in right now? It’s not one of your better ones.” Jade’s eyes flickered briefly to the other contestant, who was trying their best to remain unnoticed, before returning to [Name].

The tension in the room was unbearable, and [Name] felt the weight of Jade’s presence pressing down on them, as if the very air around her was charged with danger. They were trapped—not just physically, but mentally, caught in the web of someone far more powerful than they had realized. Jade’s every word, every gesture, seemed to make it clear that she was in control.

“You see, the person you’re trying to steal away from here, Aventurine…” Jade glanced over to the contestant trying to hide behind [Name], “…belongs to the IPC now. We made a deal after all. If he wins, he’s in our hands, and if he loses… Well, you’ve seen what has become of your friends already.” Jade chuckled lightly, a cold edge to her voice, clearly mocking [Name] for their failure to save either Robin or Sunday.

[Name] stiffened, their heart hammering as the weight of Jade’s words sank in. The reminder of their inability to protect their loved ones was almost too much to bear. Their gaze flicked from Jade to Aventurine, who still tried to shrink into the background, eyes downcast.

Jade stepped forward, she continued, “You see, it’s not about winning or losing for us. It’s about securing what’s ours. And right now, Aventurine? Well, he’s already ours. He’s simply… a part of the greater game now.”

Aventurine’s eyes flashed with a flicker of defiance, but he quickly masked it behind his usual calm façade. He didn’t want to draw attention, not yet. Not with Jade’s gaze so piercing.

[Name] clenched their fists, a surge of anger rising within them. “You think you can control everything? This isn’t over, Jade.”

Jade’s lips curled into a smile. “Oh, but it is. It’s all over, [Name]. You just haven’t realized it yet.” She glanced at her surroundings, almost as if inspecting them for the first time. “The choices you make, the people you try to protect… they’re just pieces on a board. You’re in check. But don’t worry, your move’s coming soon enough.”

[Name] took a deep breath, squaring their shoulders. “You won’t get away with this.”

Jade’s laughter rang out again, cool and insidious. “Who’s going to stop me? You? You, who couldn’t even stop the storm you walked into? You’re playing in our world now. And in our world… the cost of failure is far higher than you could ever imagine.”

“Though, it was a rather surprising… Sunday, the Leader of the Oak Family, who was winning the most just... gave up, for what? Or perhaps it was the Avgin’s curse.” Jade’s gaze shifted to Aventurine, a malicious glint in her eyes as she watched him flinch at her words. He didn’t want to leave, not when [Name] had just come to save him, to take him with them. But he was the one who had made the deal—to save his life, to secure his future. But now, standing in the shadow of Jade’s manipulations, was it really worth it anymore?

He hadn’t killed Sunday, he hadn’t wanted to, but Sunday had pushed him away. And now, as the weight of the decision pressed on him, the doubt settled deeper. What would happen if he chose to leave? Would it mean the end of everything? He couldn’t see a way out, not now, not with the deal already made.

Jade’s voice cut through his thoughts, cold and commanding. “Hand him over, [Name]. Or the consequences won’t be good. You’re alone. Your little group that you came with—well, they wouldn’t care if you were gone.”

[Name]’s heart raced, the tension coiling in their chest. Every word Jade spoke was a calculated strike, meant to break them down. They could feel her gaze on them, sharp and unyielding. She knew how to twist the knife just right, to make them question their resolve. But they couldn’t afford to give in now, not when they had come this far.

“I’m not going to let you have him,” [Name] replied, voice steady despite the storm brewing inside them.

Jade chuckled softly, almost pityingly. “You think you can protect him? You think your fragile little bond with him means anything here? He’s just a pawn in a game far bigger than you. I don’t think you even understand the consequences of defying me.”

Aventurine’s breath hitched at her words. His gaze flickered between [Name] and Jade, the conflict raging within him. He knew what he had to do, what he should have done from the beginning. He owed them nothing, but his heart… it was a different story.

Aventurine hesitated, glancing back and forth between the two. On one hand, he wanted to stay, but he couldn’t risk letting [Name] suffer because of him. So, he made the difficult choice: let them go, for good.

He hesitantly let go of their arm, his fingers slowly sliding away from theirs. The weight of the decision hit him like a crushing wave, but he refused to look back. His heart ached, but he knew there was no turning back now.

Jade’s smug smile returned, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Smart choice, Aventurine. You may have just saved yourself from a far worse fate.”

[Name] felt their chest tighten as they looked at Aventurine, torn between anger and desperation. “Aventurine…” they whispered, their voice breaking.

But he didn’t respond, his gaze cast downward, as if ashamed of what he had just done. He could feel the eyes of both Jade and [Name] on him, but his thoughts were a whirlwind of guilt and resignation.

“You’ll regret this...” [Name] said, barely able to keep their voice steady. Their words were a threat, but also a plea, as if trying to make sense of the situation.

Aventurine’s lips parted, but no words came out. His body trembled as he faced the consequences of his actions.

“Could you turn away? I want to say my goodbyes properly.” Aventurine asked, his eyes narrowing at Jade.

Jade’s gaze flickered briefly as she observed Aventurine’s expression. She lowered her eyes slightly, her slitted pupils narrowing as she took in his words. Her voice, smooth and deliberate, drifted through the room.

“You wish to part with something precious, something irrevocable,” Jade said softly, her tone tinged with quiet amusement. “But I wonder, is it truly for their sake, or for your own peace of mind?”

She tilted her head, the feather in her hat swaying gently. “I understand the need to make such choices… but remember, there’s always more than one price to pay. What you choose to give now may echo in ways you don’t yet realize.”

Her gaze softened, but the quiet weight of her words lingered in the air.

“Do as you must, but know that every transaction, every decision, carries its own consequence. Even the quietest ones.”

Jade stepped back slightly, her presence still as commanding as ever, a knowing smile curling at the corners of her lips. “Take your time. After all, you’ve made your choice… haven’t you?”

Aventurine gently cupped [Name]’s cheek, his fingers warm against their skin as he leaned in closer. His voice was soft, almost a whisper, as he spoke, each word laced with raw emotion. “Thank you for being the victim of my shallow feelings. Thank you for being the light in this dark, cruel world of mine. And thank you for being My God, My Universe.”

With a quiet, almost reverent sigh, he pressed a tender kiss to their cheek, his lips lingering just a moment longer than necessary before he slowly pulled back. The weight of the moment hung in the air, the finality of it settling between them.

He hesitated, as though fighting the urge to say more, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he took a step back, his gaze lingering on [Name] for just a moment longer before he turned away, the silence between them deafening.

He joined Jade, his figure becoming smaller as he walked away, each step heavy with the burden of his decision. There was no turning back now. The path had been chosen.

[Name] stared at their leaving forms, the weight of Aventurine’s departure crashing down on them. Their knees buckled, and they collapsed to the ground, the floor cool beneath them as if to contrast the heat rising in their chest. A deep, hollow ache settled within them, something raw and jagged. They couldn’t tear their eyes away, even as Aventurine’s figure grew smaller, disappearing into the distance.

A single tear slipped down their cheek, their vision blurring as the reality of it all set in. He had made his choice. And they, helpless, were left to carry the consequences.

All of their friends were gone, except for them. The thought clung to [Name] like a suffocating fog. Who was the real winner of this game, they wondered, if all they had gained was suffering? They had fought so hard, endured so much, only to be left with this emptiness.

Was this show just a twisted spectacle for the amusement of others? A stage where lives were tossed aside like pawns, and the price of victory was the destruction of those who dared to play? It felt like the entire universe had conspired against them, a cruel joke at their expense. The lives lost, the bonds broken, were all just pieces of a larger game, one they never truly understood.

What was the point, if all they had was pain? What kind of world was this, where those who cared the most were left to suffer while those in control laughed at their misery?

The question echoed in their mind, unanswered, as the weight of loss threatened to consume them.

All of a sudden, [Name] felt the warmth enveloping them, a comforting presence they hadn’t expected. Their breath hitched, the overwhelming pain and confusion ebbing slightly as arms wrapped around them, pulling them close. It felt… so real, yet too surreal to believe. The embrace, gentle and steady, grounded them in a moment where nothing else mattered.

And then, that voice, familiar and tender, spoke.

“[Name], the dream… is over now.”

The words were soft, like a whisper of wind, but they hit [Name] with a force that left them breathless. Why did that voice sound so familiar? Why did it feel as if the world was suddenly shifting, like they were waking from a long, deep sleep?

And then it clicked.

“Robin…” they whispered, their eyes fluttering shut for a moment, as if the name itself could anchor them to this fleeting reality.

Robin’s presence was all around them, warm and safe, like the softest memory from before the world had shattered. She pulled them tighter, as if nothing had ever happened, as if the loss, the pain, and the fight had all been part of a dream—a dream they could now leave behind.

Her arms, a comfort in the darkness, held [Name] as if to say that, for this one moment, they could forget everything. Forget the pain, the suffering, the crushing weight of the game. It didn’t matter. What mattered was now.

As she hugged them tightly, her voice soothing in the stillness, “It’s just a sweet dream.”

And then, everything faded into a soft, dreamlike embrace—an illusion, a hallucination of the heart. Robin’s spirit was all that remained, a fleeting warmth in the wake of all that had been lost.

[Navigation]

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Putting Out Fires

“I got this, I got this,” Hero whispered to themselves, wiping the blood from their mouth.

Villain grinned, readying another flaming, throwing knife. The fire around the pair burned ever hotter.

“I love your confidence,” Villain said.

Hero was already unsteady on their feet, the fight had been going on for too long. But Villain, Villain seemed to just be getting more energized. The first knife, Hero dodged, the second only grazed their shoulder. The ice shards Hero threw back were poorly aimed and didn’t go very far.

The third flaming knife got them in the leg. Hero couldn’t stop the cry that escaped them. Their flesh bubbled up around the wound with a terrible hissing noise.

“Poor little icicle, you didn’t want to melt today, did you?” Villain taunted.

Hero glared, gritting their teeth. Villain stalked closer. Then, without warning, they charged. They gripped Hero by the throat with a white-hot hand and jammed the fourth knife into their side. Hero wheezed, the scream strangled in their throat.

Villain dropped them unceremoniously to the ground. They kicked them twice in the ribs, eliciting weak cries from them. Villain crouched down; they yanked the other knife out of Hero’s leg, relishing in their scream. They then trailed the blade down their jawline.

“I could kill you now,” Villain said, “but I think it’s more fun to draw this out. Let you go slowly.”

Hero stared up with glassy, wide eyes, their breathing hard.

Villain summoned a ball of fire in their hand.

“Are you afraid, Hero?” they asked, “tell the truth now.”

White spray engulfed Villain out of nowhere, dousing out their flames. In the sudden chaos, Hero looked up to see someone clang a fire extinguisher over Villain’s head. Villain dropped to the ground, out cold. Civilian stood over them, panting. They threw the bloodied fire extinguisher to the side, then rushed over to Hero, whose vision was starting to blur.

“Hey, hey,” Civilian said, “Hero, eyes on me, eyes on me.”

“What’re you doing here…” Hero mumbled, “you could’ve been hurt…”

“Not any worse than you I’d expect,” Civilian said, “we have to go, they won’t be out for long.”

Hero nodded. In their efforts to stand they ended up collapsing back to the ground. Their wounds leaked deep crimson through their suit.

“S-sorry,” Hero said.

Civilian didn’t hesitate. They hoisted Hero up into a bridal carry and ran from the site.

“You gotta stay awake, you hear me?” Civilian asked.

Hero didn’t hear them. They drifted off to the sound of Cvilian’s panicked shouts and the fires blazing around them.

…

Hero woke up to a searing pain in their side. They yelped, but they couldn’t will their eyes to open.

“Sorry, sorry!” a familiar voice echoed.

Despite the apology, the pain didn’t stop. Their side and their leg burned white-hot, and Hero’s own heavy, labored breathing brought them further into wakefulness. They wished it hadn’t.

Hero finally managed to force their eyes open; they stared up at a warm, yellow light fixed to a popcorn ceiling. They turned their head to the side, seeing dining chairs pushed in under the bloodied table. On the other side, Hero saw Civilian pulling stitches closed.

“Hey…” Hero mumbled, wincing as Civilian worked.

Civilian looked up at them for a moment, and Hero caught a faint glimmer of fear in their eyes.

“Hello,” Civilian said.

“Where…?”

It was difficult for Hero to get any words out. Their throat had nasty burns that made their voice rasp.

“My house,” Civilian said.

“Oh.”

Civilian put in the last stitch in Hero’s side, then moved down to their leg.

“I panicked,” Civilian admitted, “I should’ve called an ambulance, but my house is much closer than the hospital, and with all the destruction on the roads, there’s no way they would’ve gotten you there in time, and I was scared, I wasn’t really thinking- before I knew it we were here.”

Civilian rambled on, and though Hero tried to listen, they were only catching every other word. They blinked, and before they knew it, they were being tucked into Civilian’s bed.

“What the…”

“Rest,” Civilian said, “they won’t find you here.”

“I have to… stop…”

“Not like this, not in your condition,” Civilian said firmly.

Hero was fighting to keep their eyes open.

“They’ll destroy-”

“I don’t care, Hero!” Civilian snapped, “I don’t! I’d rather you survive than have you die trying to save everyone!”

Civilian produced something Hero couldn’t see. Without warning, a glass was being held to their lips. Without thinking, they drank, letting the strangely sweet water run down their throat.

“Rest. It’s not a suggestion.”

Hero wanted to argue, they wanted to get up and make a run for it, but the medicine was sucking them under fast. They blinked once, twice, and then they were out.

…

Civilian sighed, running their thumb across Hero’s knuckles. They couldn’t lose them, not for anything. The blaze outside continued to spread, as though searching for someone to devour. Villain wouldn’t stop until Hero was dead. Well, two could play at that game. Civilian opened a drawer, pulling out a gun and loading it. They stood, taking one last look at Hero before heading out to face the fire.

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Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @electrons2006 @just-a-space-rabbit @telltaletoad @bacillusinfection @noseyowes @whump-till-ya-jump

[missredherring]

Black Powder

Pero Tovar x Fat F!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2.7k. One-shot.

Contents: Phoenix AU. Mentions of being held prisoner. Nudity. Canon-typical violence. A kiss.

Summary: As the rumors solidified a sense of duty grew within him. He would seek out this black powder and if it truly was phoenix ash he'd put a stop to its twisted use for only death and destruction.

A/N: This AU is inspired by the Monster (S)mash challenge hosted by @quinnnfabrgay-writes and @hauntedhowlett-writes. I made a moodboard to get the idea out of my mind and I was so motivated by the reception that I wrote a one-shot for it.

Not beta read.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

Pero wakes.

White spots obscure his vision and when they take much longer to clear than they had the previous day it tells him what he already knows: he's put it off for too long.

His body doesn't respond at first when he wills it to move, and it takes several tries to sit at the edge of his sleeping pallet.

"Ayú-," he has to cough to clear his throat and the effort feels like expelling rocks. "Ayúdame."

The noise he makes isn't loud or strong, but he knows it doesn't need to be. Soon there are footsteps outside of his room and the door opens. The round face of his aunt looks in at him, her dark eyes warm even as she frowns in disapproval.

"Ay, Perito." She tsks and bustles in. Her rough hands are on him as soon as he's within reach and he shivers at how cold they feel on his feverish skin. She checks his eyes and his neck and his shoulders, making her way down to the center of his chest where his heart beats sluggishly.

Her mouth twists even further and he knows what she must see: eyes on the verge of unseeing, skin as warm as a dying ember, and a heart that is struggling to keep his stubborn spirit going even when his body is telling him that he can't.

She grips him under his arms and hefts him up onto his feet. He does his best to help as much as he is able to and slings his arm over her shoulder.

"Enough of this foolishness, Pero," his aunt scolds him as they leave his room and make their way through the house. "You will burn today and I will hear no arguments."

Members of his family peak out of doorways and around corners as they make their slow progression, but the annoyed tone of his aunt's voice keeps them at bay. It's only when he stumbles and almost takes them both down that a cousin sighs and steps out into view. He takes up Pero's other arm and together he and his aunt bring him from the house and across the village to the kiln.

The domed structure has no windows and a singular door that only shows the darkness within. Its size and scorched appearance might look foreboding to outsiders, but to Pero it is comforting. Here is the place where generations of his community had taken shelter when they were vulnerable. This kiln had allowed them to protect themselves and their homes from the more volatile aspect of their nature.

Villagers look at him with concern. Pero seeks out a few faces and when he finds them he makes eye contact. They give him firm nods in return, passion and duty burning in their eyes- the same feelings that'd been fueling him in the past weeks as they made plans. Pushing his burning had been worth it; when he leaves the kiln they will be ready to leave the village and set out in search of rumors.

His feet drag as he's helped through the kiln doorway. It won't fit three people abreast so his aunt gives him into the care of his cousin and leaves him with a stern look and a kiss to his sweaty forehead. His cousin strips Pero with efficient but gentle motions and sets his naked ass on a brick bench at the back of the kiln.

When his eyes finally adjust to the dim lighting he sees others in the kiln with them. A potter sets up their latest batch of pottery that will sell for a good price at the market as they always do. An elder checks on the vessels that will catch the majority of the ash produced in their burning, the ash that will go on to be used in various ways from reinforcing the nursery to being used in medicine and holy rites.

Belatedly he notices two other figures that aren't rushing to get their tasks done before the burning starts. A solo burn is unusual here and he's never gone through the transformation by himself. Pero has always been surrounded and cared for by his community and it pains him to think of the burnings he might be facing alone while he's on his quest. How many burnings would a phoenix be forced to endure alone in captivity?

That thought is the final flint strike that sparks the dry kindling of his heart. His fever spikes and smoke rises from his skin, releasing any moisture that remains.

The kiln is quickly emptied and Pero is left with his kin. The heat coming from him absorbs into the brick all around him and radiates back onto the others, kick-starting their own immolation.

This is the price for the gift of phoenix fire. The weakness in his body will be consumed and tempered back into strength enough for ten men. Again and again this process will happen to those lucky enough to have a long lifetime, until there's nothing left to offer from their body except the ash they leave behind.

There is a cycle to the fire, as there is to everything in the world. A natural ebb and flow that sustains the cycle of life and death. So when whispers reached the market on an ill wind from the East, rumors of powder so fine it could turn air into fire and kill a dozen men at once, unease urged him to seek the truth out for himself.

He traveled to other villages and stalked the markets and taverns there and the whispers congregated into something more.

They call it black powder and use it as a weapon of warfare in mortal hands.

There are other communities of their kind and each seemed to be blessed with different gifts: just as his own village had great strength and heightened senses, he'd heard stories of fiery flight and magic spells crafted into warbling songs.

The possibility that phoenix ash was being used for such ill means chilled him. It was unnatural that a phoenix would be forced into burns that would eat itself into death.

As the rumors solidified a sense of duty grew within him. He would seek out this black powder and if it truly was phoenix ash he'd put a stop to its use for only death and destruction.

Pero's breathing is labored and heavy. His eyes, now almost completely blind, can only watch the movement of the flames that rise from where his hands rest on his legs.

Letting go of his worries is a relief and he gladly embraces the searing heat that takes over his consciousness.

"How do you handle this heat, Tovar?" William asks, forcing the question through peeling lips.

"It reminds me of home, amigo," Pero replies, not bothering to open his eyes as he takes in the strong heat from the sun above them.

The heat soothes him. The role of the heartless mercenary he's had to play for the last year wears on him. While there is a kernel of truth to his dogged pursuit of the black powder, the boastful words of being the strongest in the land sours his tongue and proclamations of the powder being a weapon of dreams curdle in his belly when he's forced to swallow them.

The unforgiving landscape that sprawls in front of them seems endless, but there are alcoves here and there were they can rest, and it's in one of these where a slope of rock allows for a fire that night.

The beasts attack after nightfall and what remains of their party is captured by the Nameless Order shortly after.

The entire fortress smells of it. Black powder. Phoenix ash.

It permeates every room he has been in, and it's almost welcome as it covers the stench of the Tao Tei gore spoiling the land at the base of the wall.

It's a sharp acidity on the hands of those that pass them, and he wonders if the ash is the only thing that stains them or if it's blood as well.

Ballard is the key. It's easy to sway a prideful man like him and soon he is setting flame to a few pilfered grains of black powder in his quarters in front of them, eager to show off for the newcomers.

It's only when Pero inhales the smoke and tastes the bitterness that coats the back of his tongue that he acknowledges the truth: there is no mistaking the taste of phoenix ash. The small portion of hope that his suspicions were wrong fades away to leave an ache in his chest.

And he must smile in wonder at the evidence right in front of him as Ballard crows and preens.

"Why have we not seen them?" William asks after the weapons and Pero listens closely as Ballard unveils his plan.

Freedom or death, there is no other end for any of them.

William Garin is a good man. It's unfortunate that it's at this point in Pero's quest that William's conscious decides to have a say in the man's actions.

It's easier to manipulate men blinded by greed and fear, like Ballard.

“He'll be here," Pero says as he examine the blade of his dagger.

"When? When it's over?" Ballard demands while darting to the doorway, anxious for anyone to find them.

"We start and he will find us."

"Start?" Ballard doesn't like his answer and rushes to Pero's side, countering his statement with furious whispers. "We're jumping off a cliff here. I have everything. Powder, tools, maps. It's all hidden and arranged along the route. Once we start, there's no going back."

For once Pero agrees with the man.

His inventory finished, he sheathes the blade and leaves the room, confident that Ballard will scurry close behind him.

The black powder is where Ballard said it would be, an a room of it's own in the armory. The smell of ash is so strong here he can barely make out any directions where it's stronger, but movement at the corner of his eye catches his attention. Ballard is too busy filling sacks to notice Pero moving away from the black powder weapons towards a doorway at the back of the room.

Pero catches the movement of shadows coming from underneath the door. It is a locked door behind a locked door, and Pero sees no reason not to use the same key. This time he's prepared for the explosion and only winces at the bright flash of light it produces in the dim room.

While his eyes adjust the rattle of metal guides him to the center of the room. To the figure bound by chains from the ceiling. To you.

You track his movements with unfocused eyes as he comes closer. The chains glow red where they touch your skin, and the air around you shimmers with the heat you're radiating. Your form is bare from head to toe with ash at your feet. He wonders why they haven't collected it. Did they even give you clothing or have you burned through every type of material they've tried to cover you with?

When he is too close you bare your teeth at him and push against your restraints. A screech comes from your throat, raw but still musical. Can you use human speech or have they taken that from you too?

"Paz, paz, fénix," Pero tries in Spanish, and again in a few other languages he knows. You don't react to any of them and he sighs.

Reaching out, he grasps your hand where it's clutching a chain and you watch, eyes trained on him, as he doesn't jerk back at the heat in pain. He shifts his hand to touch more of you and you both listen, eyes locked on each other, but the hiss of burning flesh never comes.

The glow of a banked ember encircles your pupils and you must see something similar in his eyes that makes you relax a fraction and let the chains creak and sway as they take your weight.

It's an easy thing to free you; to take his dagger and use his strength to cut through the links that you've already weakened with your fire. You fall to your knees, but don't crumple at his feet. Shaking arms hold you up until Pero helps you to stand with a supporting arm around your waist.

You're saying something now, in a language he doesn't recognize, but it's the same syllables or word repeated. He looks at you and shakes his head to show his confusion. You repeat the word and press your hand to your chest, and he sees it then. There, under your fingers, the skin has split like the vents of a volcano. He sees them all over you body now that he's looking closer: at the curve of your shoulders and hips, the tops of your breasts and thighs, and cracking the rounded slope of your belly. The light is brightest over your heart and he thinks he might understand what you're saying.

You must burn.

The pounding of footsteps and the accompanying noise of armor-clad bodies approaches the armory and Pero tenses, clutching you to him reflexively. With his attention no longer focused on you he takes in the chamber they've been keeping you in and recognizes it for what it could be: a kiln of your very own.

This isn't the best idea. The armory with the black powder weapons is just outside the door and William is probably up on the wall with the the Order, preparing for the next attack. If they ignite the weapons, will he be far enough away?

You repeat the word again, pleading while you grip the breastplate of his stolen armor.

William's fate has ever rested in his own hands, but Pero still says a quick prayer for the man who had become like a brother to him.

"Paz," he says again and tips your head towards his. Your shoulders drop, your eyes dimming, but you don't fight him when he presses his mouth to yours.

Perhaps you think he is taking advantage of you and that this is just another indignity you must endure, but his kiss is not lascivious. He uses his lips and tongue to part your lips and mouth and when you are open to him he exhales, pushing the air into your lungs like a bellow to stoke the banked fire burning in your heart.

You gasp and release him, tipping your head back even further to exhale a shower of sparks. Again you say that word, crooning and melodic, savoring the taste of it, of him maybe, until you come back to yourself and straighten to your full height.

You tell him something in your language, the tone determined and brooking no argument, and he nods his agreement. A translation is unnecessary.

Pero lowers his head to rest his forehead against yours. The air sizzles and snaps between you as his armor ignites. The hot gusts of your breath fanning over his face is comforting in this strange place and he wonders just how long you've been alone here.

Pero's body is fuel for you and he gives it gladly. It's an exchange: an inhale traded for an exhale until the fire inside is strong. Your magic takes him and melts him down to shape him into something new and winged.

Though strong, the brick and cut stone blocks of the Order's fortress can't hope to hold two phoenixes at the height of their burning, and give way to their force. It causes a chain reaction in the armory, just as he thought it would.

The black powder weapons explode and the blast breaks apart the mortal-made structures around them, clearing the way to the open skies above.

Pero hears you shake and ruffle your feathers beside him, but the only features he can make out from the surrounding blaze are your eyes.

Amid the destruction he feels a sense of peace. The weapons made by twisting phoenix ash are destroyed and you are freed from mortal hands. His quest will be finished when he sees you to safety.

You stretch your neck and sing a string of notes that calls to something deep within him. It tugs behind his chest and when he feels the flap of your wings and the heat of you rise up into the billowing smoke, he follows and you soar like comets across the sky.

Tagging those who be interested: @oonajaeadira @perotovar @djarinmuse @covetyou @ghotifishreads

@galaxyedging

[zerocoded]

summary: imagine you are also a doctor at akso hospital and you are married to the hottest man in linkon city: dr. zayne or where only you can make doctor zayne rest.

authors note: my first post for love and deepspace because i've been obssessed and also my first work in 18 months lol, pls be kind because writing has traumatized me for eight years now シ (i've played this game everyday since i started playing and suddenly i'm poor). i found this beautiful drawing on pinterest, credits to the beautiful owner.

warnings: touch deprived doctor zayne • reader is a badass doctor • sfw content yay

word count: 1.3k

you lost track of dr. zayne’s success the moment his office became crowded with more awards than family photos, his house came to be emptier and his headache frowns became more frequent. as his lover and wife, your first instinct was to bring the issue up on your next pillow talk and make him take a break from work. as his colleague, your worried glances over a surgery table could only do so much. 

“did he go another night without sleep?”, the question lingered in the air as your eyes met for the first time this morning. the outside banter of a crowded akso hospital was left behind the double doors of his office as you made your way to his table, white coat swinging in the air as you walked towards him.

“liar”, your first attempt at communication was surprisingly effective considering the man's ruined attention span lately, “i waited for you last night. did our house become a tourist attraction to you, dr. zayne?”.

“good morning to you too, my lovely wife”, his response was calm as usual, the tone of his voice focused and serene.

“we agreed on a maximum two-night shifts per week”, you made a c-turn at his office table and crossed your arms when he finally looked at you under his specs. 

“i’m sorry, my love, i’ll make it up to you on the weekend, i promise”.

standing by his side, he leaned back on his office chair and spun until he was facing you. the tiredness under his green eyes is evident to you. even his hair was a little more unkempt than usual, the black strands pushed all the way back so his vision was cleared. absentmindedly, you trace his forehead with your hands trying to tame the few strands that had fallen over his eyes.

your husband was hot as fuck.

“what is it this time?”, you don’t waste more time reminiscing about his beauty even after a deadly night shift, as dr. greyson told you as soon as you got here this morning, and turned to his computer so you could examine the documents he was looking at before you interrupted him. 

the props of also being a brilliant doctor were that you could win your husband over logical arguments now and then, so you didn’t waste time and started scrolling through the pages with a precise eye and a dangerous closeness to a touch-deprived zayne beside you.

his hands started roaming over your hips as soon as you leaned over his table to study the special case he was eyeing, the grip on your waist proving to you that even the stoic dr. zayne also missed his wife's touch after a long day of work. or night - you should say?

“primary cardiac tumor?”, you mumble over his desk, attention divided between the computer screen and zayne’s caress on your skin.

“yes, on the posterior side of the left atrium, you can see it on the fifth slide”, his grip on your hips tightens as you reach for the computer mouse and lean a bit more over him, trying to locate the fifth slide he was talking about.

before that, said doctor demands your attention, “you smell good, princess”, his husky tone reaches your ears and you let out a smile as you feel his face getting closer to your covered arm, gaze still locked on the screen before you. 

“that’s what happens when you go home to take a shower, you know”, you couldn’t help but retort, ignoring his curious nose sniffing your shoulder away and his left hand shamelessly sizing your bum behind you. “evol surgery on an eighty-three-year-old patient?”, your frown didn’t go unnoticed by the surgeon and he finally detaches himself from you to explain more clearly - hand still on your ass, mind you.

“we talked to the family and that’s what they agreed upon”, he says - tone raspier than before, “i’m just revising the case for greyson, he said he wanted me to take a look first”.

of course he did, zayne is the epitome of reliability in and outside of work. you just wished he ate his meals on time and listened to you now and then.

“if this is the reason you left your wife alone in your house overnight, i’ll seriously murder that rat”, you went back to crossing your arms and standing beside his office chair, the visible pout on your lips moving the heartstrings on your husband’s chest.

zayne lets out a chuckle.

“you shouldn’t threaten your colleagues like this, princess, people may think i married an assassin”, his little smirk and firm grip on your waist were a deadly combination - you thought to yourself-, his timbre so light and sincere you couldn’t help but think that he must have been tired as hell.

“that brat spends more time with you than with me. are you two a thing now?” you ignore his advances and pretend to reject his touch. 

“an emergency popped up the second i started the car. yvonne went running to me before i got out”, his voice turned more serious and you took a step further, decreasing the distance between your bodies, “thirty-six, coronary artery bypass graft, had to perform resuscitation mid-surgery because his blood pressure dropped randomly”.

you nod, a pout still visible on your face. when you feel both his arms circulating around you and bringing you closer, you can already smell the fragrance of forgiveness in the air. 

“are you tired, baby?”, you couldn’t help but worry, glad that you were the only person on this planet that could detect zayne’s lies. he could be stubborn as a toddler sometimes.

your hands leave your sides and you tilt his chin up so you could see his eyes.

you take his glasses off and put them on the table. zayne’s eyes instantly closed from exhaustion. you run your fingers through his eyebrows and try to relax his facial muscles, kissing his forehead and smiling.

“i can do another one if they need me”, he says, tone whispering for only your ears to catch. you let out a little smile over his response, knowing he was telling the truth. 

“couch nap?”, you happily offer him the idea, looking over the big couch he had in his office next to the city view. you let out a squeak as soon as he stood up and took you with him, carrying you towards the couch like you weighed nothing.

“fucking finally”, was the only answer you got before zayne was dropping you on the couch and taking off both of your coats, leaving you free to cuddle in the not-so-big space. you also giggled when he went to his office door and saw him locking the room, smiling big as he returned to you.

the perks of being the chief cardiac surgeon at the hospital was that you got a big office where your pretty wife could come and distract both of your stressed forms between breaks. zayne was grateful you shared the same passion of saving lives as him.

“are you free tonight?”, zayne’s mouth was so close to your ear you couldn’t help but freeze when he leaned over you.

“do you have plans for me? are you inviting me out of pity, doctor?”.

“just asking my wife if she will be at home tonight, since i’m not the only one who tends to spend nights working at the hospital”. he pressed his body closer to your back.

“well, i should be done by 7, the question is if you are going to listen to me for once and take a day off?”, we interlace our fingers over my chest and i hear a chuckle behind me.

“as they say, happy wife, happy life, i’m not arguing on this anymore, princess”.

“yeah, you better”.

author's note: pls, i would love to hear what you think of this chapter! sorry for any misspelling. send me a request • my masterpost

[shiningsagittarius]

Brain worms in the tags

[nyuheartbreak]

I-Isafrin.....kissing. pweese.

sure anonymous... ty for being the 2nd person even to put something in my inbox inbox is still open (and will always be open) so... kicks my legs like a highschool girl

[fujii-draws]

WILL FOREVER BE SO MENTALLY ILL OVER HOW THESE SCENES ARE BACK-TO-BACK.

[arcsin27]

Please understand my vision I’m begging

[arsonists-oatmeal]

Disclaimer: I havent read the pjo books in ages

I'm thinking about how the fandom did a great job with exploring how Percy's home life was when he was living with Gabe, and I wish to see that level of analysis done with Clarisse. Because I think Clarisse and Percy have a lot more in common then people think. They both had to deal with abusive fathers, and are both under a lot of pressure from their circumstances. They both have an anger, the type that comes from having a shitty dad. The difference in that is that Clarisse chose to express it in a different way then Percy. And like with Percy's home life, I wish the books had explored Clarisse's relationship with Ares more than just a brief scene in the second book to explain why she is an asshole

[that-angry-noldo]

The winter is a quiet, menacing killer.

It does not kill them by blade or poison. It settles in their bones. It eats them from inside out. It makes them shake and tremble.

It is quiet.

The day is bright. The Sun is fair in the sky, though her light does not bring warmth. Around, as far as the sight reaches, is a plain, glimmering wasteland, ice and snow shining and sparkling under the rays of Arien like the most beautiful gems.

It is desolate. (It is not. It is deceiving, and treacherous, and deadly.)

The camp is tense.

People are cold, but they do not hide inside their tents, do not light a fire, do not huddle into their bedrolls. Some try to maintain the calm demeanor. They clean their weapons or hum under their nose; but still, their eyes dart over the white desert with a barely covered nervousness, and their hands shake, just barely noticable, and their pupils are blown wide. Soon enough, they fall silent. Soon enough, they clutch their weapon hard, and bite their lips, and stare into nothingness, their breath hard and shaken.

Someone takes a sharp breath, then bites their hand, teeth digging through the leather. The person sitting close to them shifts, and their attention is now on their fellow; their eyes are those of a hawk ready to grab their pray. The rest of the camp tenses.

The Sun plays on the silent icecaps, mocking in their beauty.

It is quiet, so incredibly quiet. They hear every breath, every movement against the snow. All senses are strained to the point of pain. Pupils blown wide, darting towards the wasteland; ears jerking at the slightest sound, slightest movement; body tense and shaking, ready to dart in any given moment, to attack, to protect, to survive.

Breath becomes ragged. Weapons are clutched more frequently, more tightly. Someone jerks in a sudden movement, alerted by a nonexistent (but so real, so real) threat and the person next to them darts to them, clutches their arms around their chest, muffles their startled yelp with their hand. The hearts beat faster, adrenaline rising to the brain and throbbing in the body, unreleased. The person breaths, jerking, eyes staring at the cold blue sky, tears falling from their eyes and freezing on their face. Their companion holds them tighter, staring at the ground, trying no to think, to think, to think.

The world is quiet. The wasteland is empty. The camp is tense, ready for an attack that does not come, that will come any given second. They tremble.

The scales of invisible beasts mingle with snow, glimmer under the sun, shine as the purest diamonds of the Noldor.

Someone trembles and bites their hand. They are crying.

They do not make a noise.

[absentmoon]

gardener wayne

[thedevotionaltour]

thinking about it. echoplex that is