#I already have an oc whose a Carry

[tracklessreason]

Fallen a bit in love with the bittersweet idea of some bots being voluntary carriers (Carrys) during the war. All they do is try to repopulate.

Some of them enjoy the job, they want Cybertron to thrive and love bearing sparklings.

Others get too attached, they lapse into depression with each sparkling taken from them after birth, knowing they may never see the bitlet again, and the child may die a footsoldier before ever seeing peace on Cybertron.

It's a taboo job as well. Despite there being plenty of asexual reproduction methods, bots who take on this role are often seen as lesser, and derogatively referred to as "oil bots", the Cybertronian equivalent of hookers.

Best case scenario is being treated like a useful tool. You don't have the respect of an average mech, but at least you aren't viewed as worthless or used.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

good host

words: 4.1k

warnings: 18+ only!!!, smut, blowjobs, voyeurism, getting off rafes friends :), female receiving oral, riding, protected and unprotected p in v sex, male masturbation, cock warming, men other than rafe fuck reader including ocs

your heels click down the steps, the circle of boys suddenly falling into silence as you enter out the sliding doors onto the patio.

“need anything?” you ask, trying your best to play the good housewife and host now that you and rafe have moved in together.

“couple more beers if you don’t mind.” rafe says, and you nod, tiny skirt swishing as you head back inside, getting as many cold beers as you can carry before hustling back to the outdoor seating area, all the boys eyes moving from the game on the television to you as you bend down and set the beers down on the table, giving them an eyeful down your shirt.

“anything else?” you ask rafe, who wraps his hand around your thigh and tugs you closer, making you giggle as you bend down and press a kiss to his lips.

“why don’t you suck me off?” rafe asks, stroking his hand up, flipping up the bottom of your skirt to show everyone the tiny pink thong you are wearing as his hand grips the flesh of your ass.

“in… in front of everyone?”

“yeah, entertain me. this game is boring as fuck.” rafe watches as you sink to your knees, forever his good girl, listening to whatever he tells you with minimal questions.

rafe glances at the guys as you rub over his crotch, feeling him harden under his khakis. “don’t worry boys, you can use her too after she’s done with me.” 

your eyes widen, glancing at the other guys sitting amongst the couches and chairs. topper and kelce you know well, but theres two more guys whose names you only vaguely remember, chris and ezra. you think that rafe met them golfing, but you usually are only half paying attention when rafe recounts his round of golf to you.

“you good with that baby?” rafe asks, giving you an opportunity to back out, but he knows that you would never.

“of course. whatever you want rafe.” you smile up at him as your fingers work quickly, unbuttoning his shorts with ease, having repeated the action so many times. the zipper is the next thing to be tugged down and open, your hand diving into the open space, rubbing your fingers over his length through the material of his underwear.

“oh, fuck yeah.” rafe groans with a smile on his face, leaning back against the couch as your fingertips get him hard, wanting him to be as thick and big as possible before pulling his dick out, not that rafes size could ever be an embarrassment to him.

“come on baby, suck me.” rafe lifts his hips slightly, allowing you to tug his shorts and underwear down enough for his cock to push free from the confides. you smile at the sight of his dick, forgetting that anyone elses is around as you wrap your hand around the base, stroking a few times until he’s got a bead of precum leaking from his tip, which you quickly lick up, tongue lapping over the head of his cock.

you glance to the side to kelce who is sitting next to rafe, winking at him before lowering your head, your mouth expanding as rafes big cock pushes inside of you. you swallow around his length, drool already beginning to drip down your chin.

“her mouth is so good, just wait till yall feel this.” rafe moans, one hand fisting in your hair, helping you keep your rhythm as he hits the back of your throat, making you gag but not letting it stop your movements.

“i call next.” a voice you realize must be ezra pops up. you slow down at his voice, only slightly, not wanting rafe to be finished too quickly. you have no problem getting his friends off if thats what rafe wants, but you also only crave him, only want his cock, so you plan on relishing in his taste.

“alright, chill, everyone will get a turn.” rafe laughs, proud knowing that his girlfriend is so desired. if he wasn’t so confident in the strength of your relationship, he would beat ezra to a pulp for even thinking about you in a sexual way, but you’re such a good girl for him rafe knows you don’t see another man that way.

you pull off rafes cock to drag your tongue around his head before going over the slit, making rafe squirm slightly, his hand tightening in your hair as you retake his cock in your hand, stroking while your tongue licks along his length, going all the way down to the base before kissing his balls gently.

rafe groans when you take one into your mouth, keeping your sucking gentle because you know how delicate and sensitive his skin there is.

you make sure to give them some good attention while your hand takes care of his cock before you need to have him inside you again, sinking your lips around his cock and quickly building back up to the same rapid pace you know rafe likes.

“close.” rafe groans, his hips rising slightly off the couch, pushing up in time with your head bobbing. you close your eyes and clench your thumb between your first, willing your gag reflex to not force you to pull off as you take him deep.

you suck his cock down, swallowing around his thickness until he pulses inside of your throat, a telltale sign that hes seconds away from bursting. rafes cock suddenly swells and then hes cumming, shooting his load down your throat as you continue to suckle on his cock, pulling off slightly so you can taste sum of his cum on your tongue.

“fuuuuck.” rafe groans, slumping against the couch. you pull off with a happy smile, pressing a kiss to his softening cock. you can’t resist kissing up along his length before you tuck him carefully back into his underwear and shorts.

“good girl.” rafe leans down, kissing your forehead. “why don’t you take your top off then go suck ezra? hmm?”

“okay.” you nod. you tug your shirt up, turning so everyone can see as you toss it to the ground before you reach behind your back, unclipping your bra and letting it fall away. rafe smirks at the boys faces, eyes trained on your chest as you blush under all of their gazes before moving across to the other couch to ezra.

“can i touch?” ezra asks, but not to you as he looks to rafe, who must nod as ezra reaches for your tits, cupping them in his palms, feeling so different to rafes large hands. he swipes his thumbs over your nipples, and while it feels good you don’t want another man to make you moan so easily, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth.

“come on, doll. don’t just sit there get to work.” rafe says, suddenly blinking back to reality, reaching forward while ezra continues to play with your chest while you undo his pants, eyes widening when you realize he’s not wearing underwear as his cock pushes free of its confines.

you wrap your hand around his length, smaller than rafe in length but similar thickness. you begin stroking, watching in fascination at ezras reaction. you glance behind you to make sure rafe is still satisfied and giving his approval.

when rafe gives you a nod to go ahead, you lean forward and take ezra into your mouth, cringing initially at the different taste before you get used to it, rubbing your tongue against the bottom of his cock while you sink down, his cock not going down your throat like rafes does.

“fuck, she is good.” ezra moans. your cheeks flush, realizing you haven’t even pulled out all your tricks yet as you speed up, bobbing your head up and down in a dramatic fashion to show rafe just how good you’re being, obediently getting his friends off.

you don’t savor ezras taste like you do rafes, wanting him to cum quickly as you allow your teeth to gently graze the bottom of his cock, making ezra let out a mix of a shout and a moan.

“god, rafe, are you sure your girlfriends not a porn star?” kelce asks, making you giggle and have to pull off, hand stroking ezra as you wait for rafes answer.

“nah, she only fucks who i let her. you know she was a virgin when we met? now look at her, my fucking slut.” rafe makes sure to emphasis that you belong to him, and while the other boys may be given this chance to use you, they better not get any wrong ideas.

“only a whore for you, rafey.” you giggle, taking ezras cock back into your mouth, also wanting to point out that the only reason you’re interested in even touching any of them is because rafe wants you to, needing to repay his friends for coming over only to watch such a boring game of football.

you suckle at the head of ezras cock before pushing down, nuzzling your nose into his skin as you feel him pulse and then shoot his load in the back of your mouth. you happily swallow before pulling off with a smirk.

“come here.” topper calls to you from the armchair. you stand up and cross over to topper, looking to rafe before back to his friend. 

“can i eat her out?” topper asks, holding your hips in his hands as you stand between his legs.

“yeah.” rafe nods, knowing he’s bragged to topper about how delicious you are, how good the sounds you make get when he’s lapping at your cunt, clearly bragging enough to make topper choose eating you out before receiving head himself.

“but baby-” rafes voice has you turning to look at him. “you’re not allowed to cum. only i can make you cum.”

you nod as topper stands, switching so you can sit down on the armchair. you spread your legs for topper, revealing the tiny thong, already covered with a wet patch as he kneels between your legs.

topper kisses along your thighs teasingly, enjoying feeling your warm flesh as the sound of the football game fills the background. he finally reaches your underwear, his tongue pressing against the wetness, your thighs clenching temporarily before relaxing again, looking to rafe, whose eyes are flickering between the game and you, your open legs with his best friend kneeled between them.

“can i take them off?” topper asks, rafe quickly saying yes. you raise your hips up, fingers gripping into the fabric of the arms of the chair as topper pulls your underwear down, leaving your tiny flouncy skirt on.

he buries his head immediately between your legs, tongue lapping against your cunt as chris grabs your wet thong, bringing it up to his nose and taking a deep sniff of the material.

you frown when he holds onto the material, knowing that all your underwear belongs to rafe, but you don’t say anything yet, losing focus on chris as topper flicks the tip of his tongue over your clit.

“fuck, you are delicious. you guys need to taste.” topper scooches back as kelce shoots forward, taking his place. kelce is far less gentle, shoving his tongue into your hole as you let out a low moan. your hands grip at your tits, massaging them while chris undoes his pants, taking his cock out and wrapping your thong around his length, similar in size to ezras but slightly slimmer.

“such a beautiful pussy.” kelce says, barely pulling away as his words vibrate over your cunt. you whine, eyes flickering between rafe and chris stroking himself with your thong, rubbing it over his length.

kelce focuses on your hole while topper reaches forward to place the pad of his thumb on your clit, making your body shake, feeling overstimulated as a rush of wetness floods over you, knowing you’re bound to drip onto the cushion beneath you.

kelce thrusts his tongue in and out, making you gyrate your hips, wanting more. kelce seems to get the memo when he pulls away, pushing a finger into your cunt, easily able to slide in with how wet you are.

topper switches back to using his mouth, making kelce stretch to finger you as topper sucks at your clit, replacing his thumb and bringing you even more pleasure.

“remember, princess, don’t cum.” rafe reminds you, eyes quickly turning back to the tv when a good play happens.

“but hes so good at head.” you whine, telling the truth, topper has a talented mouth, using his lips, tongue and even teeth as they graze over your sensitive skin.

kelce laughs at rafes frown as he pushes a second finger into you, pulling his cock out with his free hand and stroking, now two of the boys getting themselves off as chris continues. you don’t want the thong back anymore, knowing he’s going to ruin it with cum soon enough.

its like topper is trying to make you break rafes rule and force you into an orgasm, his eyes closed as he focuses on your pleasure, trying desperately to bring it out of you.

“p-please.” you whine, kelces fingers moving faster, pumping into you with obscene sounds spreading. you can’t help the almost nonstop moans, eyes flickering to chris’s cock then face as he paints your thong white before slumping down, his cock pulsing.

“can i fuck her? please let me fuck her.” kelce asks, looking to rafe, squeezing his cock knowing he won’t last much longer.

“yeah.” rafe shrugs. “let me make her cum first.” he says as halftime begins, using the break in the game to his advantage as he walks over to you, chest heaving as topper continues right up until rafe taps him out. you let out a sigh of relief, not sure how much longer you would have lasted.

rafe sinks down, pushing kelces hand away too as his fingers instantly take the spot of pumping into you, already feeling so much better, longer and more familiar. 

“lets see if my mouth is better.” rafe smirks, and you know you’re bound to cum quickly as his head drops, instantly sucking your clit into his mouth with a level of fervor that he rarely gives you, clearly wanting to prove that no one can pleasure you like he can.

you scream out, not able to control your squeals as your hands grip his hair, holding his head tight to your pussy, the other boys watching as your tits bounce, a light gleam of sweat making them look even more appetizing. 

you cum quickly with such force that your entire body shudders, shaking as rafe gently licks you through your high, keeping his fingers lodged deep inside of you.

“good girl.” he smiles, kissing your thigh before moving up to peck your lips, even as you still breath heavily, jaw slack.

“now you’re gonna ride kelce for me right? be my good girl and make him cum.” rafe questions, and you quickly nod, swallowing as you look to kelce, who has now sat himself on the couch, his large cock almost rivaling rafes.

“put a condom on, man.” rafe says as he stands up. “you’re not taking my girl raw, are you crazy?”

kelce hustles to grab his wallet, not wanting to upset rafe and lose out on the opportunity as you pull your skirt off to bring yourself totally nude, somehow still feeling comfortable in front of all the mostly dressed men, just happy to be doing what rafe wants and entertaining his friends.

you move over to the couch after kelce has rolled the condom on, straddling his lap and grinding down against his dick, rubbing it between your folds. usually in this position you’d be making out with rafe, but you really don’t want to kiss anyone else but him, so you keep your back straight.

“come on.” kelce grabs your ass, grinding you down harder, clearly tired of the teasing, especially since he’s already been stroking himself.

you giggle at his impatience and reach down, lining his cock up with your entrance before sinking down, moaning slightly at his length, not used to the rubber since rafe never uses condoms, but kelce feels pretty similar.

you immediately begin to bounce, not caring about your pleasure, knowing you won’t be able to cum from this anyways. kelces hand gripping your ass helps you move, making sure to keep a quick pace, clenching your cunt around his cock every time you pull off.

“such a pretty girl.” rafe coos, reaching out to grip your chest, palm swallowing your bouncing tit. “give me a kiss, come on.”

you sink down on kelces cock, grinding gently as you lean over to rafe, pressing a kiss against his lips, giving him a soft smile, ignoring the way kelce instantly begins to buck his hips up into you.

“you’re doing so good for me.” rafe says. “thank you for helping my boys out and keeping us entertained.” “just wanna make you happy.” you tell rafe, stroking your thumb over his cheek before kissing him again, mouth so sweet against his, in sharp contrast to the way kelce is thrusting up into your pussy, grunting and groaning as he clearly struggles to hold back, but you’re too focused on rafe.

“love you.” you whisper against rafes lip, his tongue sweeping out to enter your mouth as kelce lets out a final shout, holding your hips down as he cums into the condom. you slide off the second he’s done, crawling onto rafes lap to continue to kiss.

“gonna take you for a massage tomorrow.” rafe says, rubbing over your thighs, knowing he’s putting your body through a lot. “and a shopping spree.” “mkay.” you smile, fluttering your eyelashes at rafe before turning, seeing toppers dick out, having retaken his spot in the armchair, just now without pants.

“want me to suck you off now top?” you question, wanting to return the head that he gave you.

“can i-” he swallows roughly “can i fuck you too?”

“aww, of course sweetie!” you stand up, moving over to topper. he’s always been your favorite amongst rafes friends. he will hold conversations with you when you’re hanging out, unlike the other guys who are mostly just scared to touch rafes things. you’re wonder how much will change after today.

topper stands up, gesturing for you to get on the chair. you kneel on it, pushing your chest into the back of the couch as toppers hands rub over your ass. you look back at him, nodding that he can start whenever.

“condom.” rafe calls out as a reminder, making topper groan quietly, hoping he could get away with it, but he grabs a condom offered to him from kelce and rolls it on.

you giggle at his face, one of pure pleasure before he even gets inside of you. topper rubs his cock through your folds, still dripping onto the seat as he suddenly pushes forward, burying his entire length inside of you.

you let out a moan, head falling against the back of the seat, surprised by how big topper feels from this angle. he begins to thrust, keeping his movements slow but deep, making sure to fully press against your ass, using his hands on your hips to keep you still.

“goddamn, i wanna fuck her too.” ezra groans.

“nah, she’s gonna sit on my cock next, you already cummed.” rafe says, feeling a slightly bit of jealousy bubble up in his gut from watching you give pleasure to another man.

“alright, i call first for fucking her next time.” ezra concedes.

“no way bro, she didn’t even touch me! i’m getting her first.” chris argues as topper begins to move faster, the argument being drowned out by both of your moans.

“need i remind you she is my girl? i get to choose who uses her. you’re lucky she’s being such a good hostess and willing to entertain yall, dont ruin it by fighting.” rafe warns.

chris and ezra quietly agree and apologize. rafe glances again at you, your pussy squelching each time topper pushes his hips in. if he was a less confident man, he would shove top away and show you how only he can fuck you right, but at the end of the day, rafe knows you only want him.

“don’t-don’t rub my clit.” you warn topper when he reaches around you to touch your pussy.

“gonna cum if i do?” he questions, grinning when you nod. he’s not used to taking such a dominant role, liking how you are clearly brought to pleasure by him.

“you better not, brat.” rafe warns, reminding you of his rule as topper listens and places his both his hands back on your hips, not wanting you to get in trouble with rafe after being such a good girl.

topper snaps his hips faster, not ashamed to cum quickly considering how easily some of the other guys busted. he can only hold off for a few more minutes, especially when you start pushing your hips back.

“i-i’m close.” topper warns seconds before he cums, letting out a string of moans as you continue to slowly move on his cock, letting his high run its course before he pulls out, the condom filled with white.

“come on, princess.” rafe reaches his hand out to you as you stumble over to him, thighs now tired but willing to have a little more energy for rafe to do whatever he pleases for you.

“you’ve been such a good girl, come take a seat.” rafe says, and you realize he had gotten his cock out again at some point. “you can watch the last quarter with us, yeah?” 

you nod, turning so your ass is in rafes face as you slowly lower down, moaning when his big cock stretches you out. you settle all the way down until he’s pressed right up against your cervix, leaning your back into rafes chest. he grabs his beer off the side table next to him, taking a sip while you relax, eyes turning to the game as well.

the other guys can sense that you’re finished, tucking themselves away and retaking their position to watch the game. you don’t miss chris pushing your underwear into his pocket. you’ll have to buy another pair when rafe takes you on a shopping trip tomorrow.

the game is just as boring as rafe says it was, and you understand why he needed some entertainment, the only touchdown being scored in the first half. you aren’t the biggest fan of watching sports in general, but having rafes cock inside of you makes it a lot more enjoyable. he even gives you a couple sips of his beer.

the game ends with little fanfare, making all the boys sigh, just happy that it’s over but disappointed as a whole.

“i trust you boys can see yourselves out.” rafe pipes up, looking around at his friends. “i need to fuck my lady now.”

the boys take their cue, quickly grabbing whatever they brought and heading out, but topper stops as he passes you. “thank you for being such a good host.”

“thank you for the good head.” you giggle, making rafes hand squeeze tighter on your thigh. topper smiles before leaving, kelce also taking the opportunity to mumble a thank you after toppers lead.

“don’t invite chris back.” you say, glad that you were able to get away with not touching him. “he kinda gives me the creeps.”

rafe laughs but nods, “whatever you want baby girl. thank you for doing that.” “of course.” you nod. “it’s part of living with you, keeping your friends stocked up on beers and also making them cum.”

“how in the world did i find a girl as perfect as you?” rafe says softly, moving you suddenly before you can even comprehend, your back being pressed into the sofa as rafe kneels between your legs, shoving his cock back deep in your cunt.

you giggle, cheeks turning red. “i just love you so much. wanna make you happy.”

“you make me very happy, baby.” rafe says, pressing a kiss to your lips before beginning to pump his cock into you, your moans drowning out the tv still on in the background.

“your cock is perfect.” you hum, eyes sliding shut as rafe pounds into you, going deep and hard after being buried inside of you without moving for so long. “no one else compares to you.”

“and don’t you forget it, baby.” rafe smirks.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart

[kingofbodyrolls]

Songs of the Heart (m) | pjm | series masterlist

When your landlord hikes the rent on your city apartment, you escape to the outskirts of town, trading the urban sprawl for the quiet hum of a modest house. But serenity takes on a different tune here—day after day, the air carries hauntingly beautiful melodies from your neighbor’s home, songs so raw and aching they seem to tell of a heartbreak too deep to heal. Worried for the unseen soul behind the music, you muster the courage to knock on their door, only to find Park Jimin—a famous singer-songwriter whose voice has graced countless hearts. But the man before you is more than his songs: an enigma wrapped in melancholy, a single father with a story veiled in mystery. As his melodies weave into your days, you can’t help but wonder: can you uncover the truths hidden in his lyrics, or will his heart remain a song you cannot play?

🌸 Pairing: jimin x reader (female) 🌸 Characters: Jimin, OC (reader “Y/N”), Yoongi (reader’s older brother), Namjoon (reader’s best friend), Hwa-Young (Jimin’s daughter), Jimin’s parents, OC’s parents, Seokjin (as Jimin’s manager). 🌸 AUs: musician!au (not completely idol!au), single dad!au, slice of life!au 🌸 Trope: strangers to lovers / neighbors to lovers 🌸 Genres: slow burn romance / fluff / angst / smut / comedy 🌸 Rating: mature/explicit/R18  (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) 🌸 Word count: 70.4k 🌸 Warnings/tags: past heartache and small misunderstandings, mention of past bad relationships, crying, pain (emotional), hurt (emotional), stereotypical assumptions, protective and oblivious big brother Yoongi, Hwa-Young is so cute 😭, mention of grief and sadness, past character death (Jiwoo), just a lot of FEELS, it’s a bit sad, but also very heartwarming, mention of past illness, mention of past domestic abuse (hitting), mention of past emotional abuse, love (so much fucking love it’s insane), dancing (yes, it’s a warning), detective big brother Yoongi (he’s not actually a detective), a filler chapter, fluff, small scandals, angst, kissing, heated moments, smut, unprotected sex in the form of; biting, marking (hickies), multiple orgasms, cum eating, cockwarming, dirty talk, nasty smut, filthy smut, praise kink, oral (male and female receiving), cum licking, hair pulling, scratching, soft aftercare, possessiveness, pussy rubbing, ruined garments, overstimulation, begging, fingering, a lot of feeling, so, so, so much fluff and love 😭 🌸 Status: finished! 🥳 A chapter will be released every Sunday! 🌸 Read on AO3? [link] 🌸 Read or listen to the teasers? [link] 🌸 Author’s note: I’ve had this idea floating around in my head since Jimin’s Muse album dropped—and the title? It hit me like a lightning bolt. But the plot? Oh, that took some time. Months, actually. The original idea just wasn’t it, you know? But then, on this one random November day, the characters finally spoke to me. And I swear, it was like I had to write it. Originally, this was supposed to be a one-shot, maybe a two-shot if I got a little carried away, but... the characters and this story are too precious, too delicate, to rush. It’s like planting a little seed and waiting for it to bloom into something beautiful 🌸 I can already feel it taking shape, and I want you to join me on this small ride—don’t worry, the chapters won’t be as long as my usual brain dumps (and there won’t be too many, promise!) I really hope you fall for this sweet, tender, and oh-so-heartfelt version of Jimin as much as I have 🥹💜 This whole series is a birthday gift for my lovely friend @remmykinsff 🥹💜

🌸Chapter #1 - Rebirth Word count: 5.6k | read → chapter one

🌸Chapter #2 - Who Word count: 8.8k | read → chapter two

🌸Chapter #3 - Alone Word count: 5.5k | read → chapter three *Releasing on Sunday 29th of December

🌸Chapter #4 - Face-Off Word count: 6.8k | read → chapter four *Releasing on Sunday 5th of January

🌸Chapter #5 - Showtime (m) Word count: 12k | read → chapter five *Releasing on Sunday 12th of January

🌸Chapter #6 - Like Crazy Word count: 8.3k | read → chapter six *Releasing on Sunday 19th of January

🌸Chapter #7 - Closer Than This Word count: 6k | read → chapter seven *Releasing on Sunday 26th of January

🌸Chapter #8 - Slow Dance (m) Word count: 11.2k | read → chapter eight *Releasing on Sunday 2nd of February

🌸Chapter #9 - Be Mine (m) [END] Word count: 6.2k | read → chapter nine *Releasing on Sunday 9th of February

Are you excited? Because I’m EXCITED! I know, I know—I’ve probably told you this about a million times already, but this story is so, so precious to me. And this Jimin? Ugh, don’t even get me started. I honestly can’t even find the words to describe how much he means to me 😭💖

That said, this is probably my last series (cue dramatic music 🎻). I’m like 99% sure, mainly because I scrapped another series I had planned—it felt a little too close to something I’d read recently. So yeah, this feels like the perfect (and emotional) way to close me writing a long series.

If you’re as excited as I am (or just a little, I’ll take it!), please let me know! Your enthusiasm fuels me more than caffeine ever could. And if you want to join the taglist for this one, just leave a comment, send me an ask, or slide into my DMs 🫂✨

Let’s make this last series an unforgettable one 💜

🌸Series taglist: @13-manggaetteok @mima795 🌸permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle @pjmxxjm @ajoonniice @kookiewithluv

[evilminji]

My ONGOING "SI-OC Ponderings that my Muse is haunting me with but I may never get around to write" Series!

Because, fuck it, might as well. Maybe it will inspire somebody?

Jedi Youngling! Staring down that double barrel Order 66! FUCK.

Now, see, they don't blame the Clones. They don't even blame the Jedi. Whole lot of "victims of circumstance and our Wrong Place Wrong Time environment" going on. But? Are they gonna lay down and take it? Fffffuck no!

They JUST got this body!

Also?

THESE ARE BABIES.

They, An ADULT, have a god damned MORAL OBLIGATION to save as many of this itty bitty alien babies as they can. They warn the adults, obviously. But they FULLY expect? And are unsurprised? When they DON'T LISTEN.

There is a Force Damned PRECEDENT for that. (May you finally rest in peace now, Master Sifo-Dyas.)

The younglings though? THEY didn't get to make a choice. THEY are innocents. And as the only ADULT with knowledge of what's to come? It's HER moral, ethical, and Force given obligation to PROTECT them until they can do so themselves.

As a Jedi... she has to PICK.

Try to save the adults? Those who willfully chose ignorance AND have the ability to defend themselves? To fight and flee under their own power? Or... save the younglings, the infants and babies. Those whose ignorance is that of the young and still learning? Who CAN NOT fight. Can Not run?

It's no choice at all. And if they truely understood? She can only hope they would command her to do EXACTLY as she is doing. Would demand no less. Consider it UNTHINKABLE to ever choose them.

She searches out the hidden passages. Practices lifting things instead of sword stances. She will need to carry so much. Move so quickly. She KNOWS where the attack will come from... Force willing, if she plans well? The Creches will be EMPTY by the time the soilders arrive.

But for that? She must steal. Redirect. Take things from where they should be. It is easier then it should be. First because no expects true mischief from a child, then? Because a war has begun.

Restriction Bolts of the Temple droids and a simple explanation is enough to gain their assistance. It's illogical not to have a plan, even if you never use it. And through them? "Liberated" data jewels. Already plumbed for all the information they're good for. High end, too.

Perfect.

She wipes them all. Fashion's a belt that, one day, Force willing she might wear as a necklace. Then sets to work coping EVERYTHING about the Jedi. When the temple is lost? Their history should not be.

So long as this string of jewels alone survives.

The Jedi are remembered. Luke with not have to start over from half memories and hearsay. They can learn from the past AND still have it. She puts diaries, prophecies, books the jedi wrote for fun. Various Force sects both past and still alive. Teaching methods. Anything. Everything.

A time capsule.

It HAS to be enough.

She fears it's not. Sneaks into the hall of retired Sabers. Sits. And opens her mind to them all. Please. Please! She knows. She's so, SO sorry. You were done. You EARNED your rest. She would not ask this if youngling were not on the line. If Illum might not become to dangerous to travel too.

....if she did not fear what would become of you, should you stay.

The Sith is coming. He WILL take the temple.

Will you come with me now?

Some do, some promise to die, and die VICIOUS. Swear to blow to deadly shrapnel in the hands of any who dare come for them. Others leave their casings. Willing to come, but not as they were. She apologizes for the indignity, as she stuffs them all in the hidden paths.

Honestly? They muse. They've seen worse. Remember that-? WE DO NOT SPEAK OF THAT. HE WAS TRYING HIS BEST, OKAY?!

And all throughout? One must wonder. What do the other younglings think? That OC is strange? Mad? To be ostracized? No, of course not. She is nice. Listens when they're upset. Does not judge or make every emotion a test. Hugs come readily and her mind FEELS older. Like the Creche Master.

And? If Master YODA can be short? Why not OC? She just lives with them. The other Knights and Master's don't listen to her because she Sees things. It scares them. They SAY they do. But children know the difference, don't they? Between what you promise you'll do... and what you'll ACTUALLY do?

But see, the Creche Master's? Increasingly distracted. Preparing the eldest of their charges for WAR ZONES. It's stressful. The fact that the youngers are quiet? SHOULD raise alarm bells. They KNOW better. But they are distracted.

The ones who DO notice? Are the orphan Padawan. The older initiates. People assigned to "help out".

There aren't enough mind healers. Not enough hands to help around the Creche. It was considered a good idea. Young children are full of uncomplicated Light! Yes, Yoda. They are. But as with Obi-Wan, so too with the Crechelings? Children are NOT here to mend the hurts of their elders. That is NOT their purpose.

They are exposing the youngers to Fear and Grief. Broken bonds and the echos of war. This is NOT good for young force sensitives.

Yet... are THEY not young Force Sensitives? Children too? OC knows they are. And it is a bitterness on her tounge. She does what she can. Because SHE is and adult. They notice too. How can they not? The other children turn to her, she guides them through their day. She gives "projects" and listens to concerns. Walks everyone through meditation.

......runs everyone through the Evacuation Plan? WHAT Evacuation Plan?

Oh.

It... it helps. Having something they are PART of. Doing TOGETHER. Something to combat the growing, creeping, darkness that is not violence and death. This? This is planning. Preparation. It... it feels like have some sense of control again, after everything has become senseless and OUT of control. Yet? It is not DARK. Not seeking to force control on others.

It is just... quietly stepping back.

One foot, then another. Calmly and with grief. Letting go, knowing you have tried, as you leave those who have made their choices to the fates they chose. Silently slipping out the door before the building begins to burn. Just as you warned them. Just as they refused to hear.

It's okay to grieve.

Even those who are still alive.

Of course, Shadows ARE supposed to notice unusual movements. Spies and Falling are a concern. Heeey, little youngling! How's things? Just swinging byyyy~☆ soft interrogation tactics~! Gonna admit to any of the Blatant Theft?

Yes, actually. Good you are here. Saves OC the trouble of trying to figure out who is and isn't a Shadow. Kinda convenient, Master Vos, that it's you. What's the fastest set of ships you could stash at the exit to this and THIS hidden path? By this date?

He's sorry, what?

You heard her.

Tiny youngling, unflinching, staring him down and asking for ships like that's a thing she has any right to do? Why? Well... that depends. Are you actually going to listen, Master Vos, or do you want an answer that will comfort you?

Excuse me.

Do you remember? Master Vos, the suffering of Sifo-Dyas? A temple full of Jedi, a seat upon it's council, yet not a single soul would hear him. Would truely listen. How many Knights? How many Masters? Tell me, Master Vos, exactly how many have DIED for willful ignorance and attachment to peaceful days?

There could not POSSIBLY be Sith. So we will not train or prepare. There can not POSSIBLY be a war, Sifo-Dyas, so be consumed by your fear alone. Die, alone. Let Padawan and peacekeepers be Generals. Because what the Force has shown you? It is happening today.

So we refuse to see it. Cling to the present, Master Vos.

Isn't it so COMFORTING here?

You don't have to know what might be. Don't have to ACT. Can be blind and choose ignorance.

A vision then? He surely concludes. For he is no fool. And the Youngling just looks tired. Eats their meal. Answer the question, Master Vos. Do you remember? Was Master Kenobi's suffering also ignored? How well did that work out. Will you LISTEN or have you already come to your conclusions, and now simply seek information to support them?

....he wants to. He does. But you're like, four.

OC nods. Fair. She can see the genuine conflict on his face. He HEARD her. But can not let go of what his eyes tell him. The Force is too muddled here. She too, would have a hard time trusting a small child with something so serious. But.... she can not change her path. And neither can he.

May the Force Be With You, Master Vos.

Plan Besh it is.

She is a small adorable child. The Coruscant gaurd are overworked and filled with spite. Who wants caff and bribery~? Do they clock her immediately? Yes. Is this hilarious. Also yes. Who did you kill, small child? We promise not to be mad.

No one, yet. Could change. She would prefere it not. But who knows. Anyway~☆! Do any of YOU caff loving (here have a refill) gentleman happen to know of any asshole Goverment Officals with REALLY fast ships that run primarily of droid piloting? With potentially easily disabled trackers? Not that she, a small child, would be DOING anything with this information!

It's just neat information to know! *innocent blinking of innocence*

Uh huh. And they were decanted yesterday.

That SAID.... they have a list. Oh noooo! They dropped the list! So much effort to pick it up. Hey, kid, could pick that up and definitely not steal it for us? Good baby Jedi. Thanks for the Caff. Tell Vos to stop haunting the lower levels. It's OUR job to hunt criminals for sport, not his.

Yes, sir o7

Of she goes? To the Senatorial Garage. It's mostly droids. Of LOOK! I have this handy little tool! Pop. Pop, pop, pop~! Hey? Wanna fuck over the asshole who doesn't appreciate you, steal this ship, AND save the lives of small children?

BOY WOULD THEY! Says local every droid in the Ship pool.

Great! Just figure out where the trackers are, how to turn them off, and when it's time? Meet a one of these locations for pick up. We're gonna NEED you. Like... actually NEED. Not "I'm throwing my money around on the latest and greatest then not USING THEM FOR ANYTHING" supposedly need. You'll have SO MUCH WORK.

(They're gonna cry in Binary. Omg? Fuckin FINALLY???)

And so... inevitably. The clock ticks down. The drama of adults ramps up. They smuggle a few clone troopers through surgery. Try to warn the others. Know it won't be enough. The momentum is too great. The gears of War will grind over everything.

Like a forest fire... the old has to burn away for new growth.

But like hell is she letting that come at the cost of tiny bodies. Clones trapped in their minds forced to fire upon children. There will be enough horrors this day. This can be on less. They WILL be ready. And... they are.

She sees the council running out. Knows what it means. And she does NOT hesitate. Her signal goes out. Her Padawan helpers dropping everything to BOLT for the Creche and the go bags stored there. They are followed by friends. Who do not understand, but trust them. Who's Master's do not understand, but assume this is some plan they were not told off.

It certainly seems so, when in the distance? They hear the temple gaurds fighting to hold the line. Hear blasterfire. They race down the hidden paths. Are met with droids, loading up food and medicine, leave as soon as each ship has the assigned numbers. Again and again. Senatorial chips mean instant pass into space. Important business, you understand.

The droids will follow, with everything. Including what was nailed down. Probably the nails too.

Might steal the hammers while they're at it.

Next stop? Wild Space.

Explorcorps newest finds. FRESHLY deleted. All points warning already being sent. A Fuck You Very MUCH, Sith-y Pants. You'll not be getting ANY of the Corps workers if THEY can help it. And hey... the Masters and a few knights were a pleasant suprise. Them and their squad of rescue troopers? Almost make enough adults to take care of everybody!

Now all they have to do? Is hide, rebuild, and regrow.

Return when Luke has down his Luke thing.

Who knows... not her. She made a plan and she DID it. Some one else can decide for a while. She's just a kid. Tell her when they get there, okay?

[peggyao3]

Night Crawler - Pt. 2

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x f!reader / can be read as OC

SUMMARY: Feyd's companion is forced to witness an unfair spectacle and utilizes the means he gave to her to sway the situation.

WORD COUNT: 2,341

TAGS: 18+, smut, graphic descriptions of violence, lactation kink 🍼‼️, pseudo pregnancy, breastfeeding (no baby involved only a big sexy egg man), public breastfeeding, public sex ❗, subby Feyd, she/her reader, AFAB reader, ambiguous relationship status, non-consenting drug use, dark undertones, stockholm syndrome-ish, dubious consent, vaginal sex

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist under construction ⚠️

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Part 1, Part 2 ↓, Part 3

The human head lands wetly on the stairs and rolls down with a thud thud thud until it comes to rest by the knees of the next supplicant, a middle aged man with thin lips whose muscles are so tense, a vein coils visibly around the curve of his bald head.

“Next!” Feyd-Rautha inspects the blade of his kukri; the edge has lost some of its sharpness in the past hour after splintering spine after spine. Servants scurry by quickly and grab the corpse by the armpits to drag it to the pile where a dozen already lie.

Meanwhile, Feyd’s companion hovers invisibly behind the na-Baron’s chair, observing this unjust spectacle of slaughter. This audience with the na-Baron is a farce. These people walked in the court room thinking they have a fair chance, but the entire function is a killing game. The only who live are those who will die anyway, no matter if their request is granted or not.

“Lord na-Baron.” The thin-lipped man kneels and his badly tailored suit wrinkles around his back. “I am here to humbly request… P-Paid leave from the factory. O-Only for two months, na-Baron.”

“Hmm.” Feyd pretends to ponder and a wave of cautious laughter rolls through the spectators, noblemen and women who draw amusement from the na-Baron’s cruel judgment of the poorer folk. “And what kind of factory would that be, civilian?”

“Bhergshimar Corps, Lord na-Baron. We p-produce supplements for medical products”

“So what do you do there? Stir up some ointments? Is that too hard of a job for you?” More laughter swells in the stands of spectators who are lined up against the walls of the elongated court chamber, framing a corridor of hubris around the waiting line of supplicants.

Feyd’s companion regards the scene with growing unease and sickness in her chest that has nothing to do with her condition. She holds her slightly distended stomach which is a product of the amniotic fluids that gather in her womb despite carrying nothing in there. Another side effect of the drug the Harkonnen Suk Doctor injects her frequently upon Feyd-Rautha’s wish. The faux condition serves no purpose besides his pleasure.

The quivering man elaborates: “C-Certainly not, Lord na-Baron! I would never ask if it weren’t necessary and I haven’t taken a single holiday for the past twenty years, except for your Holy Birthday, of course. I’m a diligent worker. But now my wife has fallen ill and I-” The man struggles for words.

“How touching,” the na-Baron sneers and tightens his grip around the kukri handle. His companion quietly shakes her head. Feyd-Rautha is  a megalomaniac child, playfully cruel. Empathy could never find a grip on his black, slippery heart. An evil soul beyond redemption.

A trickle of warm blood from the corpse pile at the top runs steadily down the stairs and suddenly touches her bare foot. Disgusted, she pulls her toes away, ankle-length skirts swishing. Bile rises in her throat and she cannot suppress the retching sound as she presses a hand further up on her stomach. Feyd turns in his throne-like chair and regards her scrutinizingly, a tilt to his pale head.

“Are you unwell, my darling?”

A rustle rolls through the crowd and every gaze is set on her, one hundred and fifty pairs of coal-black eyes in white-skinned alien skulls. She takes a deep, shaky breath that lifts her plump bosom. Feyd’s gaze dips to her cleavage and a dreamy filter settles over his eyes for but a moment.

“Actually, I am.” She tries to lower her voice to a whisper, but the silence renders the court room into something of an echo chamber.

“What’s wrong?”

“I-” She must tread carefully. He brings her to these court hearings to teach her something about politics and she knows he enjoys the horror in her eyes. Her dread will be no sufficient reason to make him stop. For a second, she meets the pleading gaze of the thin-lipped man. Sweat glistens on his forehead and his fingers are twisted into his palms. She makes the decision then, and it is surprisingly easy. “It has to do with my condition, my Lord.”

Feyd’s ears perk up and he scans her all over. “Would you like to sit?” The crowd whispers and stirs.

“I would… appreciate it. 

“Come here then.” Feyd-Rautha reaches out his hand and she feels the callouses on his palms when she takes it, letting him guide her around the chair and between his legs which he spreads so she can sit on his thigh and lean her side against his chest. “Don’t be shy,” he whispers quietly in her ear and a shiver rolls down her spine. “Get used to the view.”

She settles in his lap, controlling the cringe that creeps up her skeleton when Feyd’s arm slides around her waist and he rubs over her slightly distended belly.

“Now back to you, pathetic civilian.” The na-Baron sneers with midnight teeth. He has shifted the blade to his non-dominant hand, as the dominant one is splayed over her stomach. The poor man’s face pales with dread and he glances at the woman like she is his only hope. His fear hangs over them both like a suffocating veil and she takes a shaky breath.

“Actually, Feyd…?” She whispers quietly to the na-Baron whose gaze sways back to her, a wary edge to his jaws and eyes which can look so pretty in the right light. “I’m so uncomfortable.” She glances down at her own breasts. She doesn’t ask him often. Most of the time it is he who takes, he who crawls over her body and nips at her from ankles to chest until his lips latch around her nipple, no matter if she wants it.

Naturally, his plump lips part at her suggestion and his lashes cast long shadows down his pale cheeks as they lower.

“Now?” He presses his lips back together, briefly glancing towards the spectators. Distinctly, she feels his cock hardening against her thigh.

“Yes. Now.” It is not a request and she confidently unlaces the front of her dress to reveal her left breast. A many-voiced gasp runs through the crowd, but who are they to say a word? Or laugh or leave? This is Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the beloved na-Baron of Giedi Prime. If he wishes to drink from a woman’s breast, he will, and his reputation will not be harmed.

By some miracle, Feyd obeys without further question. In front of many eyes, he bows down to her chest and gives into the sweet temptation of humiliation. Hotly, the shame sinks into his pelvis and he subtly bucks against her thigh, moaning quietly when he latches onto her nipple and the first droplets of colostrum spill on his tongue.

Everyone feels the power shift, when the na-Baron’s head bows to reach her breast.

The woman glances over the crowd, noble spectators and lower class supplicants who all see her bare chest. It takes grace to disgrace oneself so fully. She breathes deeply, wincing just slightly because of how greedily Feyd-Rautha suckles. His taller, muscular frame twitches and he reminds her of a prehistoric reptile whose maws are latched onto a carcass. She gives him a minute.

“Don't neglect court, they're waiting for you.” She feigns nervousness and pinches his chin, taking the calculated risk to try and urge him away from her breast. Feyd, as expected, snarls in response and pinches her nipple with his teeth, probably by accident. A slight tremor possesses his jaws as he drinks.

She gives a watery, apologetic smile at the gathered people, and curls her hand around Feyd’s head, scraping her fingers softly over his smooth scalp. Another minute goes by and she knows a certain sleepiness will soon settle in his bones. Cooing softly, she caresses his scalp until her left breast is as good as empty. Carefully, she detaches his mouth from her teat before they reach the stage when she is really empty, which usually sparks anger in Feyd-Rautha until he moves on to the other breast.

With only a little effort, she pries his face away from her chest and smiles at his dreamy black eyes. His features look entirely soft, jaws relaxed. His lashes serm a little damp, which happens from time to time. She’s never commented on it. Feyd-Rautha slowly swivels his head back towards the crowd. A trickle of milk runs down his chin.

“You…” He points at the waiting supplicant. “What was it?”

“T-Two months of paid leave, my Lord.” The man bows deep.

“Only two months? Fine then. Next."

“Thank you, my Lord, oh thank you. Thank you!”

A guard grabs him by the arm and shoves him aside, where the exit gate is. “The na-Baron said next.” 

Perplexed, the man stumbles into freedom and still wordlessly mouths ‘thank you’, eyes locked with the woman in Feyd-Rautha’s lap. Yes, we understand each other, she thinks and sees the man off with an earnest smile.

While she still has milk in her right breast, three more people make it out the exit gate, most of them dismissed with a lazy wave of the hand. She can tell he has lost interest in the supplicants, his little killing game no longer fun. He has even discarded the blood-stained kukri on the side of the seat, so he can grope at his companion better. She can also tell he’s growing needy, the hard ridge of his cock humping against her thigh quicker and more urgently.

Oh well, she thinks as Feyd sifts through her skirts and tugs down his trousers. The crowd may not see how his cock head breaches her and sinks into her pink center that is unprepared save for the slick which always gathers when he drinks from her, but they can very clearly tell from the way he lifts her and her features scrunch up with pain.

It could be much worse. These people could be dead. Briefly he releases her nipple and cups her breast so any spilled droplets land in his palm.

“Next!” Feyd barks, then softly rumbles in her ear. “Ride me, woman.”

How? She is awkwardly seated diagonally in his lap, facing the crowd, barely a way to use her knees or feet for leverage. Still, she tries to please him, more grinding than riding him, but he seems satisfied nonetheless while he continues suckling on her teat. Her cunt is able to relax around Feyd’s obscene girth and more wetness trickles down past her folds and gathers on his trousers.

A knot of arousal somehow grows in her belly and it could either be the compound of artificial hormones or the power she knows she holds over him from inside her gilded prison. Her right breast is empty and Feyd’s hips buck up in frustration, cock slamming against her cervix. She hisses loudly and the sound reverberates from the chamber walls.

“I’ll have more in the evening, you greedy-, ahh!” Black teeth bite her sore nipple and draw a bead of blood. “You just drank all that and dare bite me?!” She hisses quietly, but a few guards in the vicinity can hear her certainly. A grey blush breaks out on Feyd’s cheeks and ears upon being chided. Oh, he should cut her up for that, his kukri lies right there.

But the milk is heavy in his tummy and he is too lazy to move. So, he just nips at her throat, just above the bejeweled metal collar. His bite is softer there, almost apologetic.

Since there is no more milk, she attempts to pull her dress up, but the na-Baron sloppily covers her breast with his hand instead, absentmindedly kneading and pinching the sensitive nubs while his hips thrust upwards with quick rhythm. With his feet planted on the floor, he has the momentum she is missing.

“Don’t cum until we’ve made it through this line.” She gestures at the waiting supplicants who all try to wall up their hopefulness behind a stoic facade, staring at their shuffling feet.

“Why?”

“Because I’m angry at you.”

“Why?!”

“You bit me and it hurt.”

Feyd lets out a rabid snarl and kisses her shoulder, black eyes peering around her neck at the waiting men and women. There are about two dozen left and his hands are wrapped around his Lady, kneading her hip and her breasts. He can make it through two dozen. How long might that take? Five minutes if they speak quickly?

The Lady smiles quietly to herself as supplicant after supplicant leaves through the exit gate and the blade remains untouched, Feyd’s hands busy on her body. She too has a hard time keeping her composure, walls squeezing Feyd-Rautha’s cock until he can barely control the pitch of his voice.

The last supplicant states his humble request and Feyd lets out an unintelligible sound, teeth sinking into her shoulder. His cock throbs palpably against her walls and his hips squirm, a stifled moan in his throat as he holds back.

The supplicant pleadingly looks at the Lady. “What was that?” He asks.

“The na-Baron said yes, your request is granted.” She speaks in Feyd-Rautha’s name and in the same moment the na-Baron climaxes, drooling all over her shoulder as his cock releases inky semen that luckily has no effect on her altered body. 

By the time the last supplicant has staggered out of the audience chamber, happy and alive, the Lady has almost gotten used to the view.

Panting, Feyd mouths against her neck and shoulder, pushing a hand under her dress to catch some of the leaking cum and smear it over her bundle of nerves. Her skirts are partially ridden up. A few noblemen and women might just see her bare cunt and how it still hugs the na-Baron’s cock but for some reason she is not ashamed. It only takes a minute until she comes undone, her reward, because victories don’t have to feel dirty if you accept them with grace

[thepascalparadox]

Chapter One: Beyond the Window

Word Count | 1.7k

Pairing | General Marcus Acacius x OC F!Reader

Chapter Warnings | None, just introducing the two of them! You always loved the gentle song of birds beyond your window. It offers a fleeting escape from the grim realities that haunt the Roman people outside the gates.

If only I could save them. Yet, one can only do so much. Your father does not bear the name "Justus" by chance. He strives with all his might, doing what he can for the empire. Since your mother’s passing, he has grown quieter, more withdrawn, even distant at times. And yet, the love he holds for you remains steadfast and undeniable, as does the love you bear for him. He has done everything for you, even in matters of matrimony.

At times, you wonder if you should care whether the man you marry will be young, old, or at least pleasing to the eye. But the truth is, you do not. You’ve heard tales of other women in your position who dared to hope for love, only to be met with anguish and betrayal. You will not be one of them.

Marry. Bear an heir. Go somewhere distant. That is the plan.

No love in sight, no heartbreak. Only you, poetry, music, and the birds that sing just beyond your window.

· · ──────────── ·𖥸· ──────────── · ·

"I do not to see the purpose of wearing such elegance, when all eyes must rest upon the oh-so-great general of Rome," you say, your annoyance evident as you prepare for yet another festivity you must attend. Or better, endure.

"It is a moment of great significance for your father and for the imperium, Melita," Vera replies, her voice carrying the weight of a serious tone. "And besides, you should not speak of the general in such a manner. He is a man of honor, having done much for Rome."

You miss the days when you and Vera would run freely through the palace gardens, carefree as children, with no burdens to bear. Now, she assists you in preparing for events you cannot avoid, and you wonder if she still sees you as a friend, or only as the filia Caesaris—the daughter of the emperor.

"I apologize," you say softly. "The people hold him in great esteem, and I should indeed be grateful for all he has done for my father. I just wish we could remain here, listening to the ladies gossip about the handsome soldiers returning from war."

"It will be worth it," Vera says with a glint of excitement. "We shall see those soldiers with our own eyes. At last, we shall be the ones doing the gossiping."

"May the gods have mercy on us," you mutter, already dreading the upcoming event. · · ──────────── ·𖥸· ──────────── · ·

The sound of metal striking metal still echoes in the general’s ears. The scent of blood, the desperate cries for mercy—it all lingers, vivid and fresh in his mind.

It was you or them. Your home for their home.

He wishes he could be like the other soldiers, who seek fleeting solace in the arms of strangers, lovers whose names they scarcely remember. But those were the days of his youth. He is now the general of the mighty Roman Empire. His focus must remain on strategy, on returning as many men as possible to their homes.

He hears his name called for the second time.

“Forgive me, what was it you said?” The presence of the lady at the entrance of the tent only then registered. His mind was still trapped in the aftershocks of battle, not yet fully adjusted to the safety of the moment. It always took a few days to refocus, to remind himself he was no longer in danger.

“Excuse me, dominus,” she replies softly “I asked if the armor suits you, if it is comfortable. The emperor insists it is to your liking.”

He finds himself momentarily lost in the tenderness of her voice, the sound of a woman’s presence - he had missed the feeling.

“Ah, yes,” he says, shaking himself from his thoughts. “It fits very well, indeed. Thank you for your service. I shall be in the chariot in a moment.” · · ──────────── ·𖥸· ──────────── · ·

The triumphal chariot draws near, as the man within waves to the crowd, who scream his name and hurl flowers in his direction. He is indeed very loved. You actually missed hearing and seeing the roman people so happy. After all, some of their sons are returning home. If the general returns, it means the war is over, and peace—albeit brief—shall once again grace the empire.

"The people adore Acacius," your father remarks, ensuring that you and the senators hear him. His tone carries pride, almost as if he himself had returned victorious from the battlefield.

"Does this mean you no longer wish to conquer, Father? Is the war truly over, or shall we find peace but only for a moment?" You whisper, careful that only he hears. A lady should not meddle in matters of politics, but your father had always encouraged you to think freely, to care for the well-being of the Roman people and do what you can to help them.

He leans closer, his whisper low, careful. "This is not for me alone to decide, Vita mea. The Senate desires more land and more wealth. My enemies long for the fall of Rome. The rich seek to fill the Colosseum, to profit from the slaughter and tragedies within. If I do not appease them, they will come for our heads. Do you understand?"

You nod, seeing the weariness in the emperor's eyes. He is just, but at what cost? Trying to please everyone, sometimes, can deny you from your own beliefs. 

The general ascends the stairs, and now you may better observe him. He is a towering figure, muscles honed from battle—as soldiers ought to be—his face the very likeness that artists would strive to capture in paintings and sculptures. His gaze is unyielding, as one who has borne witness to horrors, yet bears them silently.

"Emperor Antoninus Justus, I have taken Namidia in your name, so your dominion may eclipse that of all emperors before you," the general declares with stoic solemnity.

"Ah, Acacius, you need not be so formal," the emperor replies, a rare smile curving his lips, a smile you've seen only on joyous occasions.

"We shall celebrate your victory with grandeur in the Colosseum," one of the senators exclaims, raising his cup of wine in eager celebration, seeking the approval of the other senators.

The general, however, would prefer to retire for much-needed rest, would he not? You notice the fleeting glance exchanged between your father and the general—an unspoken understanding shared between them.

"There is no need for such, the glory must be all yours," Acacius replies, his voice still heavy with that same unyielding seriousness.

"The games will proceed, whether you desire them or not, General," the most influential senator among the merchants, Macrelius, declares, his tone laced with authority, intending to compel the general into submission. But Acacius does not flinch. In fact, you notice a fleeting look of irrelevance from the general toward the senator, as though he were but a fleeting shadow, insignificant in comparison to the horrors the general has witnessed. You smile, a quiet thought passing through your mind—perhaps the general shares the same defiant spirit that you carry within you.

"The people of Rome, and my family, are forever grateful for your devotion, General Marcus Acacius," you finally speak, your voice cutting through the tension in the room, a small attempt to make your presence known amidst the sea of men.

It is only then that you realize your eyes have not yet met those of the soldier. But when they do, it is as though the rhythm of your heart falters for a brief moment, missing its beat. Acacius, too, seems surprised, his face relaxing slightly, as though a weight has lifted for the briefest instant, dispelling the tension that hangs in the air. But that impression, it seems, lasts only a heartbeat—or perhaps less.

The general takes your hand, now appearing so delicate in his grasp, and with the utmost care, almost imperceptibly, he presses a kiss to your fingers. Not in a manner of flirtation, but with the solemn respect of a soldier honoring his superior. "It is an honor, to me, Caesaris filia," he says, his voice steady but laced with reverence. "To serve Rome as your father has called me to do."

He looks into your eyes, and you are not quite certain, but it seems as though the dark center of his gaze has deepened, growing larger with intensity. He holds your gaze, almost as if testing whether you will flinch, afraid of his stature, his rank, or the ghosts of battles he has fought.

But just as he did with the senator, you do not waver—not even slightly. You keep your eyes locked with his, and maybe—just maybe—you take the opportunity to truly observe his face.

He has what you would call "a funny nose", though far from ugly—certainly not. His hair, touched with strands of gray, weaves through the dark curls in a wild, unruly way. Faint lines trace the space between his brows, the mark of one who has carried more burdens than most could bear. He has lived enough to wear wisdom in his features, but you cannot find a single thing that would make him anything less than captivating—not one flaw to diminish the sight of him.

And just like that, the moment slips away, and the general withdraws his hand. You nod as gracefully as you can and begin to make your way toward the door, your presence no longer required in the room.

As you leave, you see men from all corners of the hall approaching him—offering congratulations, smiles that seem to lack warmth or sincerity. Yet, before you can step out, you steal one last glance at the general, realizing that your earlier mockery of him was unfounded. He seems like a man of worth.

Unexpectedly, your eyes meet his once again. You cannot shake the feeling that he sought you out—that he waited for you to look, after all, the door to leave lies just behind him. This time, however, you avert your gaze. Not out of fear or submission.

But because you know that if you linger on him for just one second longer, you may lose yourself to the way your heart stirs in his presence.

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 2.3k | tags: rockstar!eddie, addiction, rehab, journaling, only Eddie's entries turn into letters to Steve | Part 2 to Carry You | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost by @yournowheregirl | AO3)

Edited for a big shout out to @steves-strapcollection whose lovely OC has a little cameo here. If you want to know who Tig is, you can find out here. Spoiler: he's amazing and we love him.

Day 0

Dear Steve,

Hi Stevie,

Apparently, it's not good to "bottle up" your feelings. They say it makes drinking or drugs or any other addiction so tempting. It makes it easier to keep all that stuff inside you and let it fester until you need more and more of whatever it is that helps you cope. So the first rule of rehab: Talk, don't take.

That's a long way of saying I need to keep a journal like a 13-year-old girl with her first crush. It's either that or a daily crying session with the other "inmates" here, and I'd rather not have to tell Terry the old gossip my own tragic sob story. She already told me the life stories of two other patients here at dinner.

Instead, I decided to write to you. You're the one person I regret the most pushing away, and even though you'll probably never see this, it feels good to tell you these things now. Like a dry run. Because, baby, when I get out of here, I swear I will let you in. I won't make the same mistakes.

You will never go another day without knowing how much you mean to me.

How much I love you.

You only left an hour ago and I already miss you. I can't believe I've survived six months without you. Well, I barely did. I wish I could call you, but phone privileges are only for those who make it through their first week here.

I know we chose this center together knowing that they don't allow visitors for at least three weeks. Maybe longer if my therapist says I'm not ready. Fuck, three weeks didn't sound so bad when we talked about it, but now? In this ugly, impersonal room that smells clean but is totally clinical. You know, that mix of disinfectant and sterile air with a hint of medication lingering in the background. It sounds like an eternity and then some.

Nothing here feels comfortable or warm, and I miss your face so much it physically hurts.

But I promised myself I'd do whatever it took. For you and Wayne, for the boys and the kids.

So, day 0, the journey begins.

Fuck, I almost forgot: I'm supposed to answer three questions every day.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

See above. I miss you, that's how I am. I want this to be over. I hate that I'm here and even more that I'm the one who got me here. I feel like a fuckup. It's hard not to when I see how I've ruined everything good in my life. But then I remember the way you kissed me goodbye. The smile on your face when you told me how proud you were of me. The way you kissed my hand because you couldn't let go and whispered, "I'll see you soon," and I want to have hope.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Get through the day without doing anything I'll regret.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

You. That you didn't give up on me. (And the Gummi Bears you hid at the bottom of the bag, you minx. Thank you.)

Day 4

Sweetheart,

I'm not doing so well. It's hard. Who am I kidding? It sucks. My body hurts from how much I want to use. My brain is so very loud, Stevie. So, so loud. I try to remember how you managed to calm me down when my brain got like this. What helped the most was to wear me out by fucking me senseless, but that's not an option. But maybe I will try to go for a walk or even do some of those exercises you always tried to get me to do. The ones that usually led to fucking because I could never behave.

My therapist is nice. Her name is Laura, and so far she's taking everything I throw at her in stride. Talking to her feels like pulling my own teeth and I feel like shit afterwards, but I sleep better. Who would have thought, huh?

I miss you.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Not good. I wonder if I can really do this. It doesn't feel like it right now. I'm afraid I won't make it. That I will screw up again. That if I do, it'll kill me and I'll be grateful because I couldn't live with myself if I did.

I don't want to die, Stevie.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Talk to the weird kid who always sits by himself during meals. He looks lost. Maybe he knows DnD.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Still you. Every day. Wayne, for taking me in when I felt like a failure too. Unlovable. Worthless. He never stopped believing in me. Even when I gave him every reason not to. I don't know how I deserve him or you, but I am so fucking grateful.

Day 7

Fuck, I missed your voice. God. I'm sorry I lost it like that. I didn't want the first thing you heard from me after a week apart to be me ugly sobbing into the phone.

I wanted to tell you so many things. I had a plan, you know? But hearing your voice when you said, "Hi, baby," it just broke me. You sounded like you missed me too, like you were relieved to hear my voice too, and you didn't even realize how scared I was that you wouldn't.

We just hung up, but I want to call you again. Just to hear you breathing on the other side so I know you're still there. Waiting for me. Your hand still gripping mine so I wouldn't get lost.

You said, "I'll hear you tomorrow," like it was set in stone, no doubt about it. It made me feel, fuck, I don't even know. Like this is real. I didn't die on that bathroom floor, and you giving me another chance isn't some kind of hallucination or afterlife dream.

I'm rambling, sorry. Even in writing I can't help it.

One day I'll write it all down in a way that makes sense, I promise.

I love how patient you are with me. No one has ever been. I was always too loud, too distracted, too weird, too complicated, too much. But not to you.

I wish you were here to take me in your arms, it's hard not to fall apart without you holding me together.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Better. Fucking determined to get through this and get back to you. Still scared.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Have a real conversation with you without breaking down on the phone. Here's to hoping. Detoxing and being sober has given me a hair trigger on my emotions, it seems.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Your patience. Your grace. Your voice in my ear. That you still haven't given up on me. DnD, for giving me a purpose when I needed one, a tool to give others the help I so desperately wanted. The weird kid's name is Alex, and he does know DnD. We'll try to find more people for a campaign.

Day 16

Steve, baby,

I am so fucking sorry. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. I'm such an asshole. Please pick up the phone. I need to tell you how sorry I am. I didn't mean it, I was just scared. When you said that maybe Laura was right and you shouldn't come to see me next week if I wasn't ready, I thought you didn't want me anymore. That you finally got tired of holding my hand and watching me do those damn baby steps. It's been over two weeks, why am I not better? Why am I not done with this shit?

I want to be done, I swear.

Please don't leave me.

Please pick up the phone.

Please, please, please.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Fuck this shit, what good is it if I keep hurting you?

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Stop being a fucking asshole.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

I want it to be you, but I'm not sure I even have you in my life anymore.

Day 23

Stevie,

I'm scared. Isn't this the stupidest thing you've ever heard? A few days ago I begged to see you. Fuck, I was so desperate to see you that I almost ruined everything. I'm still sorry, I hope you know that. I know, I know, you said that it's okay and that it can't be all smooth sailing, that you forgive me. That you'll keep forgiving me as long as I keep coming back to talk to you, to explain, to show you that I mean it.

And now I've got the all clear for you to come and see me, and I'm too scared to tell you.

I'm still not the man I want to be. The man who deserves someone like you.

Laura told me that love isn't something you deserve, it's something freely given. We don't decide if someone can love us, only they do. And that I have to stop pushing people away because I'm convinced they can't love me. It's their choice and I shouldn't try to take it away from them.

I think about this a lot.

I want to let you love me, I do. It's just hard for me to understand why you would want to do that at all. It's something Laura wants to work on with me as well.

There is so much work to do. I hate to bother you with it. To make it your problem. I wanted to come in here and two weeks later walk out a new man. A better one. One you can love easily and who can love you back in a way you can understand. A man Wayne can be proud to call his son. A man Gareth and Jeff and Grant want to have as a friend, as a bandmate. A man the kids can look up to as much as they look up to you.

Laura said I should take the hand you are holding out to me. It's a decision I make every day. I took it in the hospital. I took it when you drove me here.

I should take it by letting you in, letting you see the work in progress that I am right now.

I think I will call you after dinner to tell you.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Fuck if I know. It's a lot to feel when you've numbed your feelings for so long. I remember why I did it, but I won't do it again, I'll learn to deal with it.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Take you in my arms and hold you. Let myself be held by you.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Your hand in mine. The thought of you that keeps me going. Your bravery. Dustin and Mike and Will and Lucas. They call me all the time, you know. Asking me about my first campaign here, telling me about their lives. Keeping in touch, even though I failed them almost as much as my old man did me.

Day 31

Steve, my love,

You're on your way to pick me up and I can't believe we made it here. It's not done, it probably never will be. I know that now. I have to keep working on myself and being well. But it's so fucking worth it, Stevie.

I'm glad that Laura agreed to stay my therapist even if I leave the center. I trust her. She gets me, she knows when to push me and tell me the ugly truth, and when I need time to process things.

I haven't told you yet, but I'm not going back to Corroded Coffin. At least not right now. I talked to the guys and they all agreed that it's best if I take some time for myself. And for you. For my family and friends. They actually have a guy named Tig who auditioned while I was here and they like him. He's good, they sent me a demo. They asked me if it would be okay and I said it would be. It's true, even though it hurts. I have to do this for myself.

Because I am going to give this to you later, I want to tell you something here before I lose my courage.

Steve. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I know I haven't always shown you the way you deserve. Hell, some days I certainly didn't act like it. My worst days. But I never stopped loving you. I don't think I ever will.

But I also learned to like myself a little better here. I no longer want to punish myself for things that were out of my control, like my mom dying or my dad not caring enough for me to stay. I want to be loved. I want you to love me. I want to let you.

I want to finally leave the past behind and allow myself to think about the future. And whenever I do, you're in it. You're the anchor, the epicenter of all my plans.

Stevie, sweetheart, I want to marry you.

Don't worry, I'm not proposing. This is just something I needed to tell you. Someday I want to be your husband, if you want me.

You are my past, my present and my future.

This is me taking your hand every day until I die or you stop reaching for me.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

So fucking excited to have you all to myself again. Seriously, I'm going a little crazy. I'm also hopeful about the future. And in love. I'm so fucking in love with you.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

To start our life together without forgetting what came before.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

My second chance.

[mammillariatasay]

I want to say so much after what happened with ticklethentopple

And I'll say everything I want

I couldn't even imagine how many people are already pissed off by him

It's not that I'm very confrontational, but when they climb into my comfort zone and unreasonably call me a pervert, I'm sorry, dude, but I'm going to fuck you in the mouth

I’ll answer to every fucking detail of your shitty rant

And so..

I've liked tickling since I was 6

Because of one little-known fairy tale that I really loved as a child (I'll show it later)

And I'm very tense about the thought that in the understanding of some, apparently, a love for tickling among children a priori means a future sexual fetish

My attitude to tickling has always been EXCLUSIVELY SFW (I checked this) for me it is a manifestation of love between parents and children/friends/lovers, etc.

Like hugs

I've even said many times that I hate tying up/torture/tears and snot, which is also equated to SFW tickling for some fucking reason

And when some idiot declares in every post that this is a KINK, does he really think we wouldn’t get fucking pissed?

I won't focus on his bullshit about blushing, it's complete nonsense

By the way, my OCs are minors

They are 14-17 years old

And I have NEVER SEXUALIZED THEM until they turn 18 according to the lore!!!

I came up with them when I was 16

They are a reflection of me

My teenage years, high school, first love, first friends

And I'm still a fucking child myself, even though I'm already 22

Why am I not against minors following me? Because I sincerely do not carry any NSFW messages in my blog

And I am not responsible for all my followers, they are not idiots, they understand what I draw and what is written in my blog

Specifically, I do not communicate with minors, but I do not mind if they like and repost my posts because it will not harm them in any way

I literally do not draw anything that contains any violence, etc.

If some minor writes me something inappropriate for his age, I will block him

If you draw tied up people chained to some kind of torture devices, whose eyes are already rolling back and whose faces are redder than a tomato, YOU should not interact with minors and leave us fucking alone

You need to understand the difference between adequate freedom on the Internet and grooming

If you know that some user is talking to children about something obscene, instead of shitting out some kind of paste that we are all sick creatures, throw complaints on THEIR account

Contact the tumblr administration

Notify the police if you know that they live in the same country/city as you

What people like ticklethentopple do is not a fight to protect children, but throwing shit at neighbors

Why do we hide our hobbies from our family/irl friends/BOSSES??

Maybe because we are oppressed even within the community? Maybe because we think that this is something personal? Maybe because we think that our #tkl_art is just... Cringe for ordinary people? Personally, I have always been afraid of being ridiculed and not being known as a pervert

Я так много хочу сказать после того что случилось с ticklethentopple

И я скажу всё что хочу

Я и представить не могла как много людей он уже заебал

Не то чтоб я сильно конфликтная но когда лезут в мою зону комфорта и безосновательно называют меня извращенкой извини чувак но я щас выебу тебя в рот

Я распишу нахуй поминутно блять где кто соснул хуйца блять

И так..

Мне нравится щекотка с 6 ЛЕТ

Из-за одной малоизвестной сказки которую я очень любила в детстве (позже я вам ее покажу)

И меня очень напрягает мысль что в понимании некоторых видимо любовь к щекотке среди детей априори означает будущий сексуальный фетиш

Мое отношение к щекотке всегда было ИСКЛЮЧИТЕЛЬНО SFW (я проверяла это) для меня это проявление любви между родителями и детьми/друзьями/влюблёнными и ТД

Как объятия

Я даже неоднократно говорила что ненавижу связывания/пытки/слезы и сопли что тоже приравнивают к SFW какого то хуя

И когда какой-то хер с горы заявляет в каждом своем посте что это КИНК он думает у нас жопа не сгорит?

Я не буду заострять внимание на его высере про румянец это полный абсурд

Да кстати мои персонажи несовершеннолетние

Им 14-17 лет

И я никогда НИКОГДА НЕ СЕКСУАЛИЗИРОВАЛА ИХ пока им по лору не исполняется 18!!!

Я придумала их когда мне было 16

Они отражение меня

Мой подростковый возраст старшая школа первая любовь первые друзья 

И я блять сама все ещё ребенок хоть мне уже 22

Почему я не против того что несовершеннолетние подписаны на меня? Потому что я искренне не несу в своем блоге никаких NSFW посылов 

И я не несу ответственность за все своих фолловеров они не идиоты они понимают что я рисую и что написано в моем блоге

Конкретно я не общаюсь с несовершеннолетними но я не против если она лайкают и репостят мои посты потому что им это никак не навредит

Я буквально не рисую ничего что содержит в себе какое-то насилие и тд

Если какой-то минор напишет мне что-то неадекватное для его возраста я его заблокирую

Если вы рисуете связанных людей прикованных к каким то пыточным устройствам у которых уже глаза закатываются а лицо краснее помидора это ВАМ не стоит взаимодействовать с минорами а нас блять оставьте в покое

Надо понимать разницу между адекватной свободой в интернете и растлением малолетних

Если вы знаете что какой-то пользователь говорит с детьми о чем то непристойном вместо того чтоб высирать пасту какие мы все больные твари накидайте жалоб на ЕГО аккаунт

Напишите администрации тамблера

Напишите заяву в полицию если знаете что он живёт с вами в одной стране/городе

То что делают такие как ticklethentopple не борьба за защиту детей а кидание говна в соседей 

Почему мы скрываем наше увлечение от семьи/ирл друзей/НАЧАЛЬНИКОВ??

Может потому что нас даже внутри комьюнити притесняют? Может потому что мы считаем что это что-то личное? Может потому что мы считаем что наши #tkl_art это просто... Кринж для обычных людей? Я лично всегда боялась быть высмеянной а не прослыть извращенкой

[eds-gryff]

The Weight of Beauty

Edmund Pevensie x Reader

(Requested by @popsixsquish

‘Could I perhaps request some Edmund comforting an insecure reader?’

Again, very sorry it took me over a year to finally get to this! 😬)

A/N: So, this is kind of a confession- I write all my requests and x Reader one-shots with my OC, Sanya, in mind. I write her name and her country and her hair colour, and then I change it to Y/N, etc, after I finish writing.

If you would like, I have a four-part Narnia series on my Wattpad, which is Edmund x (plus-size, POC) Original Character; it is called The Alliance Series (‘Alliance’, ‘The Heirs’, ‘Moonshine’, and ‘Fairytale?’, with ‘Sultana’ as a companion AU), which you might enjoy! If you enjoyed my fics here, and if you liked the Y/N in them, you’ll love Sanya as well as her relationship with Edmund. The marriage and overall background of Edmund and Y/N in this fic are actually based off Edmund and Sanya in Alliance!

Here is the link to my Wattpad⤵

A/N2: You know, I am personally very insecure myself and I am pretty chubby, so writing this down was actually rather cathartic. I’m not madly in love with Edmund like I was when I was sixteen (when I started writing The Alliance Series, btw), but it is still quite comforting to write one of my favourite characters being so complimentary and sweet about something most people are not.

Anyway-

Y/N= Your Name, Y/C/N= Your Country's Name, Y/N/n= Your Nickname, Y/H/C= Your Hair Colour, Y/E/C= Your Eye Colour. Reader is plus-size.

Happy Reading!

---

Y/N knew she had a terrible expression on her face as she strode back to her bedchambers, and she knew it wasn’t the most fitting expression for a Queen whose main work that day had been a diplomatic excursion- but she could not help it! She was usually very good at hiding her innermost emotions, but today had simply gone too far.

“Ugh.” Was the first word- or, sound?- that left her lips as she shut- rather violently- the door of the bedchamber. She let her feet carry her to the large canopy bed that stood in the center of the room, and she immediately fell back on it, absolutely uncaring how it would mess up the hair that her maid had carefully arranged. She couldn’t care less about what she looked like in this moment.

And then she let out a hacking laugh at the irony. This whole predicament was because she cared too much about what she looked like.

After a few minutes- or perhaps hours, Y/N did not know, she was prone to dissociating from reality- she heard the door open. If it had been any other room, she would’ve sat up quickly, ready to fight if it was an intruder, but there was only one other person with the key for this room- and thus, it could only be one person to be coming in the bedchamber currently, for it was his bedroom as much as hers.

Her husband, King Edmund the Just.

“Y/N/n.” Edmund’s tone was rather humorous, and Y/N felt the urge to throw a pillow at him. “I know you are prone to sleeping in, but didn’t you have a diplomatic tour today? With- Terabinthia?”

Curse his good memory.

She made a sound that resembled Troll, but thankfully Edmund knew her well enough to know that she was simply affirming his question.

“Did the delegation not arrive? I am sorry I could not be with you,” Edmund sat down next to his wife, and smiled when she automatically held her hand out to him, which he clasped in his, “but the matter with the villagers took all day. Lucy is still there, I only had to return for a courtier needed a signature very urgently.”

Thankfully, Susan had already signed for it by the time he’d reached, and so he had made his way to his bedchambers instead, for some rest and relaxation.

“They arrived.” Y/N mumbled, eyes closed. She did feel slightly better, though, just the simple act of her husband holding her hand was a comfort. “And they left.”

“Already? Good for you, my antisocial darling.”

She felt the corners of her mouth lift despite herself.

But she said, “I made them leave.”

“Er- not a diplomatic action, that.”

“No, husband, not like that.” Though, she had done that many times before. She was absolutely not the royal who was the first choice for such missions. “They were too embarrassed, so they excused themselves after an hour. Because of me.”

The Just King’s brows furrowed, “Why were they embarrassed?”

She did not answer, but she did open her eyes. Edmund’s chocolate-brown eyes looked down at her, concern and some amusement in them, and she let out a sigh.

“Don’t you wish you were married to someone thin?”

There were not many things or people that caught Edmund off-guard, but his wife was very much an exception, as he learned more and more ever day.

As such, he could only say, “What?”

Sluggishly, the Queen sat up, “Well, you didn’t want to marry me.”

“You didn’t want to marry me, either.” Edmund pointed out immediately. Their marriage had been arranged, part of a political alliance between Narnia and Y/C/N, Y/N’s land. The bride and groom had not been pleased. “And we both loathed the state of our marriage for the first few months.”

This was true. Y/N- who had been titled the Y/N/T not long after this hated wedding- had actually taken to hiding in the Stables to avoid her husband.

Then things had changed and evolved, and they had spent time together and grown closer- and now, now she was so besotted and in love with him, she felt like one half of a couple from some dramatic romance novel.

And she was rather sure he felt the same way.

“Well, yes. But I was attracted to you from the beginning, you know. You are so beautiful, husband. If there is any human worthy of the title of the God of beauty, it is you.” Her voice was soft, and Edmund almost instinctively moved closer to her. “I may have hated you and our marriage, but the saving grace was your beauty and your respectfulness. Oh, and your freckles.”

The accent didn’t hurt, either.

He grinned, “Oh, speak on, please. I am enjoying this turn of conversation very much.”

To her surprise, she laughed out loud, “Of course you are.”

But it seemed she had spoken too soon, for at the same time, Edmund had spoken, “But I would like to finish the previous topic first. What was that about me wanting a thin spouse?”

“Um.” Y/N was regretting saying that suddenly. She was not one to bare her innermost emotions and thoughts often, unless it was in a diary. “Nothing.”

“Y/N.”

Oh, it really was serious if he was calling her by not a pet-name.

“What exactly happened with the Terabinthian delegation?”

The Queen groaned, and fell back in bed again.

“Your Majesty!” The head of the Terabinthian delegation, came over to the carriage in front of which Y/N stood. Curtseying, she spoke, “I am the Duchess of Terabinthia.”

She curtseyed as well, “The Y/N/T Queen, at your service.” While in Narnia, she preferred to use the epithet awarded to her because of her marriage to a Narnian King. If this had been her country, she’d have called herself the High Queen of Y/C/N. “Welcome to Narnia.”

“Thank you verily for making the time to meet us. We are grateful.”

“No need for gratitude, it was our honour.” Y/N said, wishing she could go home already. Why had Peter assigned her to do this? He knew she hated this- oh, that must be exactly why. She was absolutely going to bonk her brother-in-law on the head with her sword the next time they had a duel. “We are most glad you visited Narnia on your tour. And Y/C/N is next, I believe? I will make sure you have the best guide for your travel in my country.”

The Duchess bowed her head in gratitude, and her eyes widened.

“Oh, I did not know! My most heartfelt congratulations.”

Y/N blinked, “Thank you, but for what?”

Yes, she had new shoes on- not by her choice, but her most comfortable pair had actually fallen apart- but that wasn’t something to be congratulated upon.

“You are expecting! It has not been announced, as far as I know, so that must be why you are surprised.” Her face broke in a wide smile, and she did not notice as the Queen’s face withered. “You and King Edmund must be over the Moon.”

Y/N could not say anything. What could she say? That, no, she wasn’t pregnant, she was simply fat. That, no, her breasts had not grown because they would soon nurse a child, but because she had always been ample? That, no, the weight around her middle was not because there was a babe in her womb, but because she was unhealthy and unfit and always had been?

“How far are you along, Your Majesty? I imagine it must be the second trimester- Your Majesty?” The Duchess’s smile faltered. “Is everything- is all well?”

“Yes.” She had to be gracious, diplomatic. She could take off her new shoe and throw it at her, or go hide in her carriage and have a breakdown like she was a teenager again. “But I am not with child, my Duchess, my husband and I have yet to be blessed in that way. I am simply- this is simply how I am.”

The other woman’s eyes widened, and she took a nervous glance back, to the rest of the delegation, who were surely wondering what was taking so long.

“I am so- I cannot apologise enough, Your Majesty, I had no idea- I thought that, because of what you- because you are- I- forgive me.”

“Yes.” Y/N said, though she did not. It wasn’t the Duchess’s fault, she was fat, she knew, which was not common among royalty or nobility.

Still, she couldn’t help but harbour a grudge.

“Well. Shall we on?”

“Oh, I will be sending them a very strongly worded letter.” Edmund said, his face even paler than usual and his eyes burning with anger. Who in their right mind would speak to his beautiful, wonderful, courageous wife in such a way? “How dare-”

“Because it’s the truth. I am fat.” Y/N said, and looked down at herself. She was still garbed in exactly what she had been wearing then. “I can’t even tell myself that she misunderstood because I was bundled up in a cloak and shawl- I wasn’t and am not.”

It was a warm day, in summer. She’d worn a gown with cap-sleeves that the Royal Tailor had recently delivered, with intricate embroidery in an art style belonging to her homeland around the hemline, bodice, and sleeves. It was scarlet and purple and gold, and she had liked it, even loved it, but now she did not think she’d ever wear it again.

Not to mention, she was no beauty, but at least the jewels and crown distracted from the ugliness of her face.

“Y/N/n, you aren’t-”

“Oh, please. You have seen me naked enough times to know I speak the truth!”

He had seen, felt, touched the pudginess of her stomach, the curvy rolls around her sides. He’d gripped her thick thighs, he’d kissed them, and he’d slid his fingers over the dark-red stretch-marks that were present all over her body- her flabby arms, her fat thighs, her plump sides.

She squeezed her eyes shut, “I hate feeling like this. I know my weight does not equal my worth, I know it doesn’t matter that I’m ugly, and I know getting so upset is utterly stupid, but I cannot help it.”

She had felt insecure about her body for as long as she could remember. Even as a child, as one with little care for anything but her playthings, she remembered how she’d been upset when a pretty outfit gifted to her did not fit her, or when she’d preferred to wear something oversized to conceal her heaviness. Granted, no healer had ever said she, then the Princess, was overweight, simply that she was healthy and stout- but when compared to the slender, picturesque folk around her, she had felt and still felt like an elephant in silk.

“How could you not want someone thin- someone beautiful? Someone- someone who’s not me.”

Edmund felt rather at a loss. He always knew what to say, how to take charge of a conversation, how to keep the other person calm- but he felt utterly speechless in the moment. His oft-praised silver-tongue had all but disappeared.

But he knew one thing- he did not agree with his wife.

“My darling.” He lay down beside her as well, and pulled her to him, nestled in his arms. He felt a soft breath of comfort escape her lips, and he was glad. “You say you were attracted to me the moment we met?”

Y/N nodded, hiding her face in his chest, “Even more so when I heard your accent.”

He held back a laugh, and went on, “And you know how I felt when I saw you?”

She shook her head, her Y/H/C hair falling over his blue-and-grey tunic, and Edmund berated himself for never telling her this before.

“I was mesmerised.” He said softly, so softly that Y/N had to look up, her Y/E/C eyes wide. “I would say enchanted, for that would be very true, but you know I have a rather difficult past with enchantments, so let’s stick to mesmerised. I could not take my eyes off you.”

Y/N muttered something that was probably ‘because of the corset’, but her cheeks were on fire.

Admittedly, his wife’s breasts had been rather pushed up and obvious because of the corset she’d worn under her outfit during their first meeting- and, yes, Edmund had not been able to stop himself from blatantly staring for a few seconds- but he was not speaking of that.

“You were rolling your eyes as you were formally announced-”

Almost predictably, she rolled her eyes again, and her husband did laugh softly this time.

“And I remember you were holding onto your own arm, as if comforting yourself, as if reminding yourself to be strong.” He spoke, dipping his head to press a kiss to her forehead. “Just by those two actions, you had my respect and my admiration, and then your beauty had my enthrallment as well.”

“Edmund...”

“You may not be what utterly vapid folk all over the world consider to the epitome of beauty,” which he absolutely did not, “but that did not stop me from thinking you to be the goddess of my dreams.”

She pressed her body closer to his, almost instinctively, as if her very skin wanted to be nearer to him.

“A thought I still have every single day.”

Emotion sparkled in her eyes.

“Really?”

And she still doubted him. Of course.

“Yes.”

“Even though I’m fat, and lumbering, and don’t even get me started on my nose-”

He wanted to throw a pillow at her, but restrained himself to saying, “Would you do me a favour?”

“I would die and kill for you, Edmund.” Y/N gave her husband a fond look. After what he had just said- oh, she had not thought she could have loved him any more than she already had, but she did! So, so much. She wanted to kiss him already. “Yes, of course, what is it?”

Edmund’s lips curved, “Could I undress you?”

Well, she would never be saying no to that.

She nodded, far too excited yet far beyond caring about seeming pathetic- and, soon enough, Edmund’s clever fingers were undoing laces and pulling down fabric and ghosting over her bare skin.

Once she was naked, Y/N reached for her husband, to make the situation equal, but he took her hands in his instead, before she could grip and tear at his tunic.

“What?” She asked impatiently. She wasn’t insecure in front of him anymore, she hadn’t been in years, not since the first time they had made love. All she thought when she was nude around him, was that she wanted him to be that way as well. “Let me undress you already, so we can-”

“That’s not what I meant.” He said, his freckled cheeks blushing. His wife cocked her head at him, and he elaborated, “I want you to know something- see something.”

Her eyes narrowed, “If you’re going to stand me in front of the mirror to look at my bare body, I will get my sword right now and tear your limbs instead of your clothes.”

Edmund’s intentions may be noble, but there was nothing Y/N hated the sight of more than her ungainly figure in the mirror.

Except vegetable mash. Ugh.

Ah, how delightfully murderous his darling wife was. Her country and his own was lucky to have her.

“No, no.” And he lay Y/N down on their bed, her hands clasped under her breasts, and she was giving him with a quizzical look the entire time.

He climbed carefully on top of her, half-covering her body with his, and pretended he didn’t notice Y/N rolling her hips against a part of his body that was extremely fond of his wife and extremely susceptible to her- to her everything.

“I want you to know exactly how I see you- and, hopefully, one day, via you gaining some sense or via osmosis or whatever, you’ll see it, too.”

What was osmosis?

Y/N was about to ask, but her words and her breath was stolen when she felt Edmund’s kisses on the space between her breasts.

But his hands were not on her breasts, as she’d hoped- they were on her plump upper arms, and he was speaking in a whisper to the hollow of her throat, “I see these as strength. I see these as proof that you are the most skilled swordsperson I know, the strongest person I know.”

His hands wandered down her arms to the pudgy rolls of her stomach, and Y/N squirmed. She could not help but think she was glad she had missed breakfast and had yet to have lunch, otherwise she’d be even fatter.

But Edmund was not thinking about her diet, he was speaking, still in that soft, reverential tone, “You call these pudgy, you think this is fat? Even if it is, I don’t care. Because I see this as you being healthy, as a sign that you will be with me for a long, long time, that you won’t be snatched away from me by cruel disease or anything like that.”

“Never.” Y/N vowed breathlessly- she would never leave him, she would fight time itself if necessary. “We’ll always be together.”

His response was a kiss to her throat, and his hands finally reached her breasts.

She wanted to close her eyes, to revel in his touch and know no other senses- but he was looking at her, his dark twinkling eyes never wavering from her face, and she could not look away.

He squeezed them, fingers glancing over her hard nipples, and said, “Want to know what I think of these?”

Y/N could only nod, too eager and too wanton and too in love.

“Fucking sexy.”

And his mouth met hers, finally, finally, finally.

It was a passionate kiss, for there had not been a single day in their lives together they had not desired each other- but as much as there was lust, there was love. As they kissed, Edmund’s heart was soothed because Y/N’s lips were warm on his- and Y/N’s soul was comforted, because Edmund’s mouth was steady against hers. His hand grazed against her breast again, and she slid her tongue inside his mouth, and they both drew even closer together in their embrace.

One of Y/N’s hands slipped inside Edmund breeches, inside his boxers, and wrapped itself around him. Edmund gasped into his wife’s mouth as he felt her touch, and Y/N’s hips rolled against his, her hands already stroking her husband’s cock.

But all too soon, Edmund pulled away, panting.

“Too daring, darling.” He said, as breathless as she’d been minutes ago. “I was trying to make a point, not-”

“Make love?” Y/N asked, her brows raised. She was sopping, needy, and she didn’t think she’d ever loved him more. Please, please, please could he take off his clothes already? “If there is a vote between the two, husband, I will be voting the latter, just for your information.”

“Noted,” Edmund kissed her shoulder, “but I am not done.”

He drew away from her, and Y/N groaned. Sitting up between her parted legs, Edmund took a moment to look down at his wife. At the expanse of her soft skin, occasionally marked with a mole or pimple or scar. At the curves that had made her ravishing to him the first time he’d seen her, and which had continued to only grow in loveliness over the years. At the valley between her legs, at the dips in her sides as her hips flared out.

Y/N was curves and dips and valleys, and he could not help but be glad she was not thin as a lamp-post, and Edmund thought of how- to him- her body was perfect to kiss and hold and caress and love.

He smiled suddenly, “You know, sometimes when I can’t sleep, I look at you, and I try to decide which is my favourite curve on your body.”

She blinked very rapidly. That was far more romantic than counting sheep- or dragons, as she preferred.

Sometimes, in her most lovelorn moments, she would count Edmund’s freckles. She usually got too distracted by them to actually sleep, though.

“Have you- have you ever made a decision?”

Edmund shook his head, his unruly bangs falling into his eyes.

“Sometimes I think it’s this.” He ran her hand down the bend of her right side, “sometimes this-” he gripped her left thigh just above where it met her knee, “and sometimes- often, actually- your tits.”

Y/N giggled.

Edmund bent his head low then, still holding her thighs. He peppered kisses to the stretch marks painted over her thighs and her waist, and felt a tight, hot coiling inside the pit of his stomach as Y/N trembled in pleasure underneath him.

“What do those tell you?” Y/N asked, her voice a murmur. She wrapped her legs around him, locking him in place. If she could keep him here forever, she would. She felt so content, so calm in his arms- apart from the raging want to fuck him. “My stretch-marks?”

“You’re marked by the Heavens.” His voice caught, almost, and he almost shivered at the intensity of her eyes. “They resemble lightning strikes, you know? And lightning, like storms, like the rain, comes from the Heavens.”

Hm. She’d compared her stretch marks to dead worms before, because they were roughly the same shade, but beautiful rain, which covered the earth with an even more beautiful smell whenever it fell?

“How am I supposed to keep thinking of myself as ugly, if you keep saying things like that?”

It was not quite a victory, but it was close enough.

“Exactly. You’re not supposed to think of yourself as that, because you’re as far from that as I can imagine.”

Her heart thudded in her chest, and seemed to grow. They had made love so many times in- in so many ways, so many places- but she was certain that this was the most intimate moment they had ever shared.

“You can’t just kiss away all of my insecurities.” She spoke with a small laugh, as Edmund lifted his head up to gaze at her. She really wished he could, but neither of them could wholly and fully heal the pain inside each other. “Try as you might, it’s not possible.”

“Well, I’ll still keep trying.” He shrugged, and pressed a very light kiss to her clit, which made Y/N moan out loud. He would absolutely have to lavish more attention there, he decided firmly, he was as amorous as she was. “I love you. I love you, and you are the love of my life, Y/N/n, and you are beautiful.”

She pulled him down next to her again, and she nestled herself closer to him. Edmund’s arms encircled her, and she was glad to be the little spoon. She was usually very glad to be the big spoon, holding her husband in her arms, but she loved this position very much, too.

Y/N didn’t think of herself as truly beautiful, and perhaps never would; Y/N did not think of her being plump in a positive light, and perhaps never would- but in this moment, and many other moments after this, Y/N would look down at herself, and she would not recoil, she would not grimace, she would only remember her husband’s words, and she would remember her strength and her bravery and the fact that she was alive, and she would no longer be cruel to her own self.

In this moment, and in many other moments after this, there was peace- in her mind as well as his, and in their hearts and souls, which perhaps were as joined together as the Moon and the stars.

Until there came knocks on the door minutes later, and Y/N all but shoved Edmund to open it. He gave her a look, but could do nothing more- she was naked, after all, she couldn’t open the door. Drat, he really didn’t want to get up.

Regardless, he kissed her nose, which scrunched up in the most adorable manner, and got out of bed.

Ah, the struggles of Kingship.

“I’m sorry to disturb, Your Majesty, but Queen Susan asked to inform you and Queen Y/N that lunch has been laid.”

“Oh, thank you very much,” Edmund said, after a glance back at his wife, who was smiling lazily at him over the tops of her breasts. He felt a blush coming on again. “But my Queen-wife and I are both feeling a bit under the weather, and I was about to request someone to bring our meal up to our chambers. Perhaps after half an hour?”

The faun bowed, “I shall have that be done, Your Majesty, thank you very much. My well-wishes for you and Her Majesty Y/N to soon feel better.”

Edmund nodded his head at him, a gracious smile on his face- and once the faun had departed, he closed the door and returned to the bed.

He snuggled close to his wife, who wrapped her arms around him. He felt perfectly, incandescently warm, and spoke into her shoulder, “I figured you would not want to face the world again today.”

She kissed his hair, saying, “You assume right, but what about you?”

“Oh, I prefer you to the world, by leaps and bounds.”

“I love you, husband.” Y/N said simply, and he pressed a short, chaste, yet endlessly loving kiss to her lips. “Anyway, now will you take off your clothes?”

Edmund matched her smirk with his, “How about you take them off for me, Y/N/n?”

Not another insecurity was thought of again that day, and the faun had to return with their meals four times before the King and Queen finally opened the door.

--

[hb-writes]

Together

Summary: When the Cullen family goes on a hike, Mia's fear of heights presents a bit of a problem, but Carlisle is there to help her through.

Prompt: Please number 65 (“I volunteer myself to go last.”) with Mia and Carlisle?

Characters: Carlisle Cullen, Esme Cullen, Jasper Hale, Edward Cullen, Alice Cullen (mention), Mia Cullen (OC)

Content Warning: Fear of heights, excessive fluff.

Twilight (Mia Cullen) Masterlist

Each breath in and out seared as it passed through Mia’s lungs and throat, the sound of her labored breathing matched only by the pounding of her heart. She knew her parents—and her brothers and sisters, too—could likely hear her struggling up the hill. They were too far ahead on the trail—or what had likely at one point resembled a trail, so much of it washed out by heavy rains and melting snow—by now for Mia to hear the steady conversation of her siblings as they walked ahead, but she knew they would still be able to hear her, able to easily pick out the sounds of her strife from the sounds of the forest around them. 

It hadn’t taken long to realize why the trail had technically been closed for the season, categorized as too dangerous for human visitors. Mia was proud of herself for getting this far without succumbing to offers of assistance, even with the difficult trail that went back and forth between a mostly drained out river bed and the forest, causing Mia to be constantly scaling the suddenly steep inclines only to be bracing herself with exposed roots and rocks as she slid back down a few moments later.

None of it gave the others any trouble, even with the muddy conditions caused by the spring thaw, but Mia was already exhausted, some part of her screaming to turn back, or simply give in. To let someone carry her on their back for a bit, allowing her feet and legs and lungs the rest they clearly needed. But Mia knew if she did accede, even if only for a moment, that would be the end of her hike. Once her body had a moment of rest, it would only protest her walking again. 

And despite the growing part of her wishing for reprieve, Mia didn’t want to give in, not really. She had known what to expect coming into it. Emmett had gone through the logistics with her and Carlisle beforehand, ensuring the hike was doable, ensuring there wasn’t anything she’d have too much trouble with, and even though Mia was nursing a stitch in her side and barely able to control her breathing or will her feet to pull her forward, she knew the worst was still yet to come. 

Her heartbeat spiked at the thought of what still lay ahead, another thing she was sure everyone picked up on, especially Esme and Carlisle, whose gentle footfall was still sounding just behind her, intermingled with their occasional quiet conversation, all of it a deliberate effort made to remind Mia that they were still there, just a step behind if she needed anything. 

Mia had tried her best not to need anything though, and she had accepted little more than her father’s hand extended down to help her up one particularly steep incline. He hadn’t even pulled her up, allowing her to use her own muscles to close the distance between them, his hand in hers little more than a bit of leverage. Mia was near certain she would be so sore she could barely walk in the morning—she could already feel the pain settling in—but that was a problem for tomorrow.

One thing at a time, Mia thought to herself as her muscles burned anew, the sudden thinning of the forest’s canopy above her and the faint sound of quiet conversation between Edward and Jasper reminding her that there were more important things to focus on, more imminent concerns. 

“Doing okay?” 

It was only the third time Carlisle had offered the question throughout their hike, and she knew it was an effort on his part to avoid the temptation to ask after her wellbeing, just as he’d been repeatedly stifling the urge to offer his hand to pull her up steep inclines and to offer his back to give her tired legs a rest. She knew it was an effort for Carlisle to allow her to struggle, to allow her to do things on her own, especially when it so clearly caused her pain. 

Mia turned towards her parents, nodding as she briefly met Carlisle’s eye. Her chest was tight enough with each breath that Mia knew if she were to try speaking, any words would only come out as a strangled gasp without the air necessary to support them. 

Carlisle nodded in return, and Mia turned around, trudging up the path toward the clearing. Jasper and Edward glanced at her as she arrived, subtle smirks on both of their faces as she dragged her feet to close the final few steps between them. 

Mia let out a ragged breath, leaning over with her hands on her knees as her body caught up with the fact that she was no longer walking, no longer plodding up a hill, no longer pushing her limits. 

Carlisle held out a bottle of water, which Mia took as she straightened back to her full height. She felt a sharp pain in her side with each big inhale, and she focused on breathing just enough that she avoided the pain. 

“The others already went ahead?” she asked, hoping the words sounded at least a little normal and not as though it was a great effort just to speak. 

Edward nodded, watching as Mia took gulp after gulp from the water bottle. 

“Alice is just crossing,” Jasper said, and Mia pulled the bottle from her lips before following his gaze to the far side of the suspension bridge where Alice was twisting and twirling as if she were on a stage and not a glorified bundle of wood slats held together by cables, all of it a staggering 156 feet above the surging waters below. 

Alice, as per usual, seemed entirely unbothered by the risk. 

Mia's gaze traveled to the waters below. Even though she had looked at the pictures online…even though she had known all she could know about the trail and the bridge and the river before agreeing to come along, seeing it in-person was something different entirely. Her mouth dried out despite allowing another gulp of water to slip past her lips.

“You want to go next?” Jasper rocked on his feet, leaning over to nudge Mia’s side with his arm. She took a step back, away from the edge that she was nowhere near to begin with, her body responding to some subliminal call to retreat. 

“Can I go in the middle?” she asked. 

Edward leaned back, revealing a small brown sign with white lettering affixed to a post near the bridge's entry. 

RECOMMENDED: ONE PERSON ON BRIDGE AT A TIME.

“Great,” Mia muttered under her breath. “I volunteer myself to go last, then,” she added as she took a few steps before lowering herself to sit on a large rock she imagined had been brought there just for this purpose. For the people who were too scared to cross to have a place to sit and watch the braver members in their party go forge ahead. 

“Are you sure?” Jasper asked. “I could—”

Mia cut off the suggestion with a glare and a shake of her head. Anxious as she was about the crossing, she didn’t want Jasper’s brand of help. She didn’t want him to soothe her nerves or sway her mood, tempting as that all was. Jasper didn’t fight her on it, offering a shrug before he turned to begin his journey across.

"See you on the other side." 

Mia propped her elbow on a knee and let her head slump into her hand as she watched Jasper disappear over the bridge. 

“You sure you don’t want to go next?” Edward asked. “Get it over with?” 

Mia shook her head once before turning her attention to pushing her hiking boot through the mud, making a gouge in the ground with the force of it. 

“I’ll go next,” Esme said, pressing a gentle hand to Mia’s shoulder as she passed. 

Mia watched her mother go, not pulling her eyes away even as she felt Edward’s gaze on her.

“I’m sure you’re making it worse in your head than it’s actually going to be.”

“And how would you know what I’m thinking?” 

The words snapped with more force than Mia intended as she turned to look at her brother. Mia knew that she had her mind locked up well enough that Edward couldn’t get in, couldn’t really tell what she was thinking though she was sure he had attempted. Mia had made sure her guards were up and secure today, almost as much of her focus settled there as it was on making sure she didn’t trip and fall. 

“My thoughts are none of your business.” 

Edward snorted, and Mia waited for either the pseudo lecture or sarcastic comment she could tell was on the tip of her brother’s tongue, but when she looked up, it was clear he was already mid-conversation with someone else. 

Carlisle—she presumed—knowing that the two of them frequently engaged that way, especially where she was concerned. 

“Fine,” Edward said in response to whatever Carlisle had expressed through his thoughts. “I’ll wait for you on the other side," he added, glancing down at Mia, but Carlisle shook his head.

“I believe your mother would like to walk with you for a while,” Carlisle answered. He nodded toward the other side of the gorge, where Esme indeed still stood, waiting, and whether Esme truly had any particular reason for wanting her son’s company, Mia was grateful to her mother for occupying him, and grateful to her father for suggesting it. Grateful that Edward wouldn’t be permitted the opportunity to follow up on any of their conversation just now.

“You two go on ahead.” 

Edward didn't bother responding before he headed out onto the bridge, his feet making swift work of the crossing.

“Your brother means well,” Carlisle said as he slipped down onto the rock beside his daughter. 

Mia rolled her eyes, her gaze shifting from her father to watch the brother in question. Edward had by now joined Esme on the other side of the bridge, the time it took seeming impossibly quick, but Mia knew Edward could still hear them. 

“I know,” she answered. And she did know. As much as Edward and Mia sometimes grated on each other's nerves, Mia knew her brother meant well. She knew he wanted what was best for her. 

Mia pushed her foot through the mud, focusing her gaze there as she spoke. “It’s just amazing how they’re all so overprotective until it’s something I have reservations about, and then they’re all ready to push me off the side of a cliff.” 

Carlisle chuckled, knowing that it was partly true. 

“They do realize I’m a human being, right?” she said. “Unlike the rest of you, if I fall off that bridge and break my neck, I’m dead.” 

Carlisle sighed, and Mia felt the weight of her words. She’d meant it as a joke, or a sort of joke, but the mention of her ever present mortality was a heavy subject. Somewhere along the line, she’d realized that it was heavy for all of them in different ways, but it seemed to be heavier for her father more than any of the rest of them. Mia understood why. She knew that if anything like that were to happen…if her existence hung in the balance somehow…it would be her father’s decision on how they would proceed. It would be her father who changed her or let her go. 

Mia released a sigh as she leaned her head against his shoulder, an apology of sorts.

“You’ve done well today.” Carlisle snaked an arm over her shoulder. 

Mia snorted, glancing up to him, eyebrow raised. “So have you.” 

Carlisle reached for the water bottle she’d discarded beside the rock, holding it out for her as if the compliment she’d spared him just now was akin to giving him permission to dote on her a bit. Mia didn’t fight him on it, accepting the bottle and taking a swig. 

“It’s nice here,” Mia mused as she stretched out her legs in front of her. “Maybe we should just sit here and relax and…”

“Is that really what you want?” 

Carlisle would’ve been happy to sit there with his daughter for hours, enjoying nature and the peace and quiet. And he was certain that the longer they lingered on this side of the bridge, the better chance they had of letting the others hunt at a more leisurely pace without concern for Mia’s presence, but he could feel the tug of war within his daughter. Could feel that there was some part of her that wanted to face her fear of heights. 

Mia shrugged and stood up, taking a step toward the bridge. There was supposedly a small, easy hike to a beautiful view on the other side of the bridge, but…

“It’s a big fall,” she said. "Quite a ways down..."

“It is,” Carlisle agreed, “but the bridge is safe,” he added, as if he knew she was questioning it. 

Mia nodded. She knew her father wouldn’t allow her to traverse it if it wasn’t safe, but intellectually knowing that fact did nothing to quell the anxious hormones rushing through her blood stream. 

“But it wobbles,” Mia said. She had seen the bridge swaying while the others had crossed. “And it’s very…open.” It was far more open than she had expected, the cables and wood slats offering far less protection and safety than she had expected.

Mia glanced back at her father, waiting for him to contest her observations, but Carlisle only nodded. He wouldn’t lie to her. He wouldn’t deny the truth of her observations. The validity of her concerns about the structure. 

But more than Mia was concerned about the structure, she was concerned about her role in crossing. She was afraid that her clumsy nature would somehow result in her falling between the wooden slats. Or that she would somehow succeed at propelling herself over the cable rails. 

She knew both were unlikely scenarios, but she couldn’t stop the fear from settling in her stomach. 

And she couldn’t stop herself from imagining the most likely of scenarios—that she would simply freeze, stranded somewhere in the middle of the bridge and paralyzed by fear.

She knew she didn't have to do it. No one would force her to cross, and with her siblings gone, no one would taunt or tease or try to convince her either. And Mia knew that deciding that crossing the bridge didn’t serve her and not crossing because of that decision…that could be a form of courage. Standing up for herself in that way would be just as courageous as forging ahead.

She could almost hear her father saying as much though he remained quiet and waiting, not wanting his words to influence her choice. The quiet between them seemed to last an impossibly long time while what seemed like a million thoughts raced through her head each one louder than the last until Mia took a hasty step forward and her mind quieted. She her breath as she moved out onto the bridge. She didn’t want to think about it any longer, or allow herself to claim the courage of saying no to something she didn’t want to do, because though it was easier to stay on this side, deep down she wanted to cross the bridge. She wanted to see the view on the other side. She wanted…

Mia looked down at her feet as she placed the third and fourth and fifth steps down, and with each step it became more difficult to focus on her hiking boot and the wood slat beneath it, her eyes drawn to the rushing waters of river below. 

She closed her eyes, hands settled on the cables to her sides, willing her body to still the shaking that had started, willing her foot to take another step, but she was frozen, every part of her resistant to any idea of movement. 

Even to get back, she would have to walk. She would have to open her eyes and turn around and…she gulped, her body ramping up at the thought of those things, the doubting thoughts once again growing louder and more insistent.

“Dad…” 

The word was barely a whisper. Barely a plea, but Carlisle was there beside Mia in just a fraction of a second, guiding her to breathe, his voice and hands on her shoulders steadying her as her eyes remained squeezed tight. 

“I can’t do it. I…”

“You don't want to?” 

Mia took a deep breath, her eyes still shut as she considered her father’s question, the way he had effectively sidestepped her assertion, letting it fall away without comment, both of them knowing it wasn’t true. 

Both of them knew that there was little truth to Mia’s ‘I can’t do it.’ Crossing the bridge wasn’t a matter of ability, but a matter of desire, and Mia knew her father wouldn’t push her one way or the other. Carlisle would let her decide.

“I don’t know,” Mia answered, taking another slow breath to help loosen the tightness in her chest.

“I’m with you either way,” Carlisle answered. “We can go back or cross together. It's up to—”

“I thought only one person was allowed at a time,” Mia interrupted, remembering the glaring warning sign, as she glanced over her shoulder to look at her father. 

Carlisle’s face held an easy smile, a hint of mischief gleaming in his eye as he shrugged.

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” 

Mia let out an uneasy chuckle, pulling her eyes from her father to look across to the far side of the bridge. 

“Together,” she said, more to herself than anything, as if the word would convince her bones and nerves and muscles to cooperate, but it was Carlisle’s echoing of the word that had Mia taking a hesitant step forward and then another.

“I’m right here,” Carlisle said, his hand finding Mia’s shoulder when she paused a few steps later.

She looked over her shoulder briefly, offering him a nod before she continued on across the bridge, Carlisle's father’s comforting presence just a step behind. 

Twilight (Mia Cullen) Masterlist

[kroialt]

sharing this little thing I did for my oc x canon ship 👀 This is Khro’a Tsrafmi, my oc, and recom Mansk from the movie Avatar The Way Of Water! more info will be posted about them soon maybe idk hehe quick summary of their story so far tho: Mansk survives the events of Avatar 2 and is found and imprisoned by Khro’a and the others. Khro’a and Mansk get closer etc. neytiri jake moment buT mansk still betrays khro’a in the end and gets rescued by the rda cause angst is yummy LMAOO 🤪 🤪 🤪 ❤️ ❤️they also obv like each other but wont admit it ha h a ANYWAY I also wrote a thingy for this illust too  🤪 ❤️ ❤️ ‎  ﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏ ‎ 

BETRAYAL

Khro’a had expected this. He had told himself that he would prepare for the worst case scenario. Yet when the worst had arrived, he was full of uncontrollable anger and also…something else he dared not to admit- He was heartbroken. As ridiculous as it sounds, he has become fond of the mysterious and silent man. Khro'a thought he saw more in him than simply another dangerous recom warrior but I guess he thought wrong.

Memories of them getting closer and even almost knowing each other to a really personal level, flashed through his mind as he stood there in the middle of the burning forest as everyone’s frantically trying to escape the sky people’s attacks.

Mansk stands next to Lyle Wainfleet across the chaos from where Khro’a is at. They were far from each other but not far enough to see where both of them were standing. “Good work, Mansk!” Lyle shouts, patting Mansk on the shoulder to make sure he heard him over all the loud noises of gunshots firing and crackling wood in the fire. “Lets get you the fuck out of here.”

Before they leave, Mansk and Khro’a make eye contact. Khro’a, doing his best not to get swayed by his emotions, stops himself from running headfirst towards the man to finish him in one go with his blades. All he could do was hiss back angrily at their direction as hot tears streamed down his face. If only he had been carrying his gun, he would have already shot Mansk by this point. You could only see a mixture of disappointment, rage, and despair on Khro'a's face at that moment.

Mansk witnessed everything. But he held a blank expression. At least that's what Khro'a, whose vision was already a little fuzzy, could see. Even though a lot of things happened so quickly, everything still seemed to move slowly.

Mansk still looking at Khro’a’s expressions and taking it all in, Its clear to see that he had completely broken his “friend’s” trust. Khro'a claims he never trusted Mansk, but Mansk didn't buy it because he could generally read Khro'a right away. Mansk was aware that Khro'a had some faith in him and hoped, deep down in his mind and heart, that this wouldn't happen.

The two took a second after khro’a looks away and immediately helps out other na’vis escape as they run deep into the woods, away from the sky people. Mansk turns his back from the forest and finally follows Lyle, who was standing by one of the RDA's gunships for him. “Everything is a part of the mission. It's what I have to do as a recom soldier." Mansk quietly reminds himself the most basic cliche ass shit ever. (SorryLMAO)

These kinds of situations don't allow for feelings. You must be an absolute fool if you fall for any of that nonsense. Khro'a and Mansk knew that very well. They shouldn't get involved, so they never expected anything to happen between them.

So why does it still hurt a little even when you expected THIS to happen? Why hope that things might change at all?

[erisweekofficial]

Tonight we're SO excited to celebrate @littlest-w01f! 👀

🔥 Are you a fan of OCs? Want to read about multiple OCs? Anna's got you covered! Her Eris masterlist has several fics you can check out, but we recommend checking out Flames and Darkness, a mulit-chapter story that has us sitting at the edge of our seats.

We dare you to read her Eris Omegaverse week fic ft. Eris getting pegged 🤭

Read more to learn about @littlest-w01f 's thoughts on Eris and what she's getting him for secret santa!

What inspired you to start writing for Eris? And especially for Eris x OC instead of any other ship? I feel like there is so much to Eris that we don't know yet, we've barely begun to scratch the surface of his character. And honestly, from everything we do know about him, he has the makings of an amazing character if he's done justice (And I really hope I do). I feel like Eris is the kind of a character that if you try hard enough, you can ship him with anyone, and it will always make perfect sense. While I was reading Acowar I already was in love with what he could be so I built onto that and started getting fic ideas, some might think that he's lightly OOC in my fics, but he's perfect to me. I ship him with multiple of my OCs, I look at his character and decide what type of person would suit him best and build my character off of that till they are their own person whose sole purpose isn't being shipped with Eris, and sometimes the original reason I shipped them changes and I can see for myself that these OCs I have created always end up being more intimately attached to the character I pair them with as time goes by. I love my pairings cause they are special to me. I put him with many different types of characters and I love writing how he reacts differently to them, he's more cold to some he's a puddle of fluff with some.

What are some of Eris's most misunderstood qualities?

 I feel like we don't really know the real canon Eris at all, because we're seeing things from the pov of the Night Court so there is no reason for him to be his true self with them and it's easy for him to be lumped with "people who don't like/care for the IC" and some people hate him for that while the others love it when there is so much more to him. Obviously many people have pointed out the similarities between Eris and Rhys, but the main difference between them is that we see Rhys from the eyes of someone he loves and cares for that's why we see him giving reasons to his actions, while with Eris we haven't got that yet. Even still, it is clear to see that Eris has a close relationship with his guards and was genuinely worried for them when they were taken. Just because he doesn't care enough for one set of characters, doesn't mean he doesn't care at all. I doubt anyone knows the complete true Eris as of now but I hope we get to.

Can you give me a name for one of Eris's brothers? And also for one of his dogs?

Omg thank you for asking me this, I love names and their meanings, Eris is the damn lady of strife and I think it's all pretty cool. I named the second Vanserra son "Arlin" in one of my fics and will carry it forward for the rest of the fics which means "Warrior", which makes sense to me as after the Heir comes the Warrior. For the puppies, well smoke hounds, the youngest is "Ivy" in my eyes cause she always loves getting tangled up in vines and Eris has to free her every two seconds before she rushes off again to tackle vegetation, and that image in my head is too cute.

You have to get Eris a gift for secret santa - What are you getting him?

A. New. Father! With a ribbon and everything. Talking seriously, I feel like he's never had something cute before so a soft little fox stuffie or something along those lines I HC that Beron threw away any toys Eris had when he deemed Eris too old to play/have fun... That b*tch 😒

[simblorbo-bracket]

Simblr Blorbo Sexyman Tournament - Round 3, Quarter Finals

Arielly Vespertinai (@paracosmic-sims) VS. Yara (@neoryweory)

(polls are presented left -> right unless stated otherwise)

Who deserves the title of Simblr's Sexiest Blorbo more? Remember to vote with your heart!

Additional images and propaganda (if provided) available below!

(main image(s) needed to be cropped for formatting and will be provided in full below the cut)

Arielly Vespertinai

Here comes a buff disabled hot gal with the wheel steel chair!!

I love my post-canon little blorbo more than anything else, you dont understand. I couldn't help myself but put entry her.

...I dont have much to offer as why you should vote for her other than: have you seen her? She could crush your head between her thighs. She could step on you with a metal leg. She has the prettiest brown eyes the world has seen. You could spend eternity kissing each freckle on her face and shoulders and back. Imagine being tired of walking and you have someone stong enough to carry you as passenger princess (regardless of gender lol) in her wheelchair. Isnt that perfect?

Arielly is adventurous, dance-machine and loyal. She's very stubborn, but a ride-or-die for the people she holds dear. She may or may not have an account for arson. She's the type of person whose friendship feels better than therapy. She will help you hide a body. She will kill a man for you. She will lavish you in gifts and attention and enough money to bail you out and pay for the best attorneys. She will not, in fact, realize you like her beyond friendship unless you directly shake her by her shoulders screaming this fact in her face. But its okay, she's just attraction-blind. Nobody's perfect, though her mix of sharpness and softness might lead you to believe that. Truly, the best of both worlds.

🎵 Smash the competition, baby

Show us some good entertainment 🎶

Pretend I know how to shade muscles properly, please and ty (T-T). For some reason, even with maxed-out sliders in cas, you can barely peek at her abs and thigh muscles in-game.

Look at that profile, though. Are you seeing that profile? Ethereal. Gorgeous. (Can you tell I love her yet? That regardless of anything, she's already a winner in my heart?)

I need everyone to see her. The world doesn't know what its missing by not seeing this amazing woman at least once in their lives. Have you seen her now? Truly, a blessing.

Yara

here's my submission for the simblr sexyman tournament!! :D her name is Yara, and she's one of my beloved ocs

she's a fashion student in San Myshuno, and a semi-famous social media fashionista & artist! she and her boyfie have their own brand :>

[ghostedeabha]

hello! i read your family fic and absolutely loved it with all my heart<3333 i was wondering if you could write more about the riley family :33

maybe they’re celebrating someone in the family’s birthday! your pick on who it is :D

but i would love to see what you do with this<3333

you ask for birthday and i raise you:

soldier returning home for his children's birthday🥰

i hope you enjoy !! <3

simon "ghost" riley x mom!reader/children!ocs

word count: 1433

warnings: pure pure fluff, tears of joy, so so so so much crying from reader and the 17 year old son (bc men are allowed to be vulnerable too <3)

a/n: simon returing from a mission early for the twins' fourth birthday?? i think yes :) idk why but this is immediately what came to mind when i read this request. this fic takes place just before the riley family vacation to soap's beach house <3 in my mind it's like early july

a/n 2.0: also we officially have names for the riley kids. bug, matthew, lyla and luka <3

--------

"mandy it's not his fault he can't be here, he's literally in a another country fighting a war right now. i'm sure he's just as heartbroken about it as the rest of us." you sighed to your sister in law.

it was the twins' fourth birthday, you and your sister's wife mandy, were in the kitchen prepping the food for their birthday party in 20 minutes.

"i don't know, i just think he should've asked for the time off. he knows when his kids' birthdays are." the blonde said as she cut up some strawberries.

"he can't just request time off in his job. his job isn't like a 9-5 mandy."

you were starting to get frustrated with the conversation so you just decided to change the topic and turn the attention towards the stars of the day, the twins.

"anyhow, the twins are going to wake up from their nap any minute now so i'm gonna go upstairs and shower really quick before i lose the opportunity."

"alright, i'll start bringing the food and games outside."

"okay, bug and matthew should be out there setting up the tables and decorations so ask them for help if you need it. when is erin coming back again?"

"she said she'd be back just after the party started, she needs to go pick up the rest of lyla and luka's gifts."

"gifts? plural? mandy, you two already brought like four seperate bags of gifts! they're four they don't need this much." you replied with a laugh, disbelief overtaking you as mandy reveals her and your sister were absolutely spoiling your children.

"they deserve it! plus, i promise, you'll like this last part she's getting too. now go! go! get your shower."

"god, you two are insufferable." you mutter, mostly to yourself, with a slight laugh as you walk up the stairs to get to your room and take a quick shower.

almost immediately after you step out of the shower and wrap a towel around yourself, the cries of one of the twins rang through the house, their cries triggering the cries from their twin. you let out a soft sigh and dried yourself off as quickly as possible and slipped on your bathrobe, making your way to the twins' room.

"awake from your nap my darlings?" you say softly as you enter their room and approach their separate cribs.

lifting luka from his crib first, you hold him out for a moment and then bring him close, pressed to your chest.

"happy birthday, my sweet pumpkin." you say softly, rocking the crying infant whose cries die down slowly now that he is in the arms of someone safe and loving.

you walk over to lyla's crib, adjusting luka in your arms to carry him in just one so you can reach in a hand to lyla to let her know you're there.

her cries begin to cease as she grabs at your hand.

"hi there baby, did you nap well angel? happy birthday~" you coo at her.

lyla nods as she grabs at your fingers.

"i'm gonna put your brother in here with you for a moment so i can go get your outfits." you tell her with a smile as you set luka in the crib with lyla.

you turn to their dresser and pick out their outfits for the party, you suppose you'll just have to get dressed in a few minutes.

it was a bit of a struggle to get the outfits on thr twins, both having woken from their naps with a lot of energy meanth they were wiggling around as you were trying to change them and that only prolonged the task.

eventually though, you were successful and placed the two down onto the floor and smiled at them. "goodness, look at how cute you two are... gotta take a picture for daddy, yeah? look at mummy, smile!"

you take your phone out from the pocket if your bathrobe and snap a picture of lyla and luka, adorable smiles on their faces.

a small twinge of sadness pokes at you as you take the picture, sad that simon will only get to see them on their birthday through a picture. celebrating his babies' birthday alone on base.

nonetheless you shake off your negative thoughts and pocket your phone once more, picking the twins up and carrying them both back to your room so you could keep an eye on them as you tried your best to get ready in time for the party

you were now 40 minutes into the party, games being played, the bunch of kids in your backyard ran around and laughed happily. you scanned the area, taking note of where all your own children are.

bug was playing in the dirt with lyla, probably looking for critters, something they bonded over frequently.

matthew was playing tag with luka and some of the other little kids, letting them tag him as they played.

"erin should be back in about five or so minutes." mandy says from behind you, causing you to jump a little at the suddenness.

"jeez! oh, okay.." you reply, putting a hand over your heart to calm yourself as you laughed a little from nerves.

"we should probably start opening presents, yeah?" mandy suggests, motioning to the overflowing presents table.

you couldn't say you didn't spoil your kids, that's for sure.

"yeah, you're right." you nod and begin to call out to the guests and your family.

"guys! it's time for presents and cake!"

"present!" you hear luka scream excitedly, beginning to try and run over to you.

you laugh at his cuteness and sit down, letting everyone gather around, situating the twins on your lap while they open their presents.

you were almost to the end of all the presents when you heard the patio door slid open and closed, erin walking through with a few bags in her hands.

"so sorry i'm late! but i have lots of presents!" she calls, waking over to you and the twins as she holds up the bags.

"here, here, take them." she says, pushing them all onto the table.

"thanks erin, you really didn't have to get this much." you reply with a laugh, letting both of the twins reach out to try and grab the bags, you make sure they grab their own bags, watching as they opened them excitedly.

"okay, erin and i have one more present, but it's for all five of you. gimme just a minute, i'll be right back with it, it's a big gift." mandy says as the twins finish opening their presents.

this makes you look at erin and mandy, a confused and almost worried look on your face. you knew your sister and her wife pretty well and there's so many ways this could go.

mandy runs into the house as everyone at the party waits in anticipation for whatever the hell mandy could've brought.

when mandy returns, her gift is the very last thing you expect.

simon walks through the back door with her, a smile on his unmasked face.

"daddy!" lyla squeals loudly, wiggling from your lap to run over to simon, hugging his leg as she cried from her overwhelming happiness.

"dad?!" you hear matthew and bug yell in shock, both of their voices cracking.

matthew full on runs into simon's arms, hugging his father as tight as he possible could as he also cried, overwhelmed by shock and happiness. he sobbed hard into simon's shoulder as simon chuckled and rubbed his back. "missed you too bud."

"oh my god.. simon?" you say softly, getting up from your seat as you keep luka in your shaking arms.

"c'mere, love." simon responds, motioning in a come hither motion to you.

like you were on autopilot, your feet carried you and luka over to simon, joining in on the family hug. bug was the last to join, wrapping their arms tightly around simon from behind.

"i missed you all so much..." simon says softly, quiet enough for just your sweet little family to hear.

"we missed you too dad." matthew says between sniffles, his emotions still getting the best of him.

"and happy birthday to my two little rascals, you're... three now right?" simon says, teasing the twins.

"no! daddy silly! we dis many." lyla says with a giggle, holding up four fingers in her father's face.

"ah yes, my mistake princess." he chuckles and gives her little head a kiss.

this was definitely the best birthday party you could've ever had for the twins.

[flaggermuser]

Stay Out of the Moonlight

Homelander x Luna (Supe OC)

1,812 words || Canon Typical Violence, Manslaughter, Use of Powers, Bath, Assisted Bathing, Canon Typical Threat ||

This takes place in the year between S2 & 3. Luna is a moon-powered supe whose powers are tied to the lunar cycle.

Special thanks to @hom3landr for being my beta

Divider by cafekitsune

Title based on the song Stay Out of the Moonlight by Peter McConnell for the game Psychonauts

Luna returns to her penthouse via the launch pad just outside her living room.

She just about makes it inside as tears begin to sting her eyes, her body trembling as she looks down at her hands. She’s covered in blood and gore, and God knows what else. It’s in her hair, on her skin, on her clothes.

She didn’t mean to kill that criminal, just scare him a little with a weak moonlight blast. It’s a waxing crescent so she’s not at her full strength however she underestimated herself. Now he was a bloody smear against a wall in an alleyway downtown.

She’s never never taken a life.

She opens her mouth to scream, to make any noise only to find that she mutes. She can’t look away, can’t move while the numbness starts to seep into her limbs and the world around her dissolves into static. There’s a ringing in her ear, making her deaf so she doesn’t hear someone enter her penthouse.

Nor does she hear that same person enter her bathroom and begin to run her a bath. It’s only when she feels someone begin to tug down the zipper at the back of her costume that she registers that she’s not alone.

She quickly looks over her shoulder, only to find Homelander behind her.

“Take off everything.”

It’s a simple enough command but she is slow to obey, making Homelander swear under his breath. He forces the halterneck over her head, tugging the bottom of her suit down her thighs. Eventually, she starts to move, her fingers curling into the top of her gloves, pulling them down and off.

It’s still too slow, so Homelander walks around, kneeling in front of her to undo her boots, having her lean on his shoulder as she steps out of them, her suit sliding down her legs to crumple on the floor. She instinctively covers her naked body, feeling even more exposed, her gaze firmly fixed on the floor as he stands.

He sweeps her off her feet, carrying her in his arms to the bathroom and the tub, filled with warm water. He lowers her into it, turning off the taps and removing his gloves, leaving them on the vanity. Reaching for shower gel and a loofa, he kneels beside the tub, slowly beginning to wash her.

Her arms are crossed over her chest, her body still shaking from the remaining adrenaline and the fear that is creeping in. She can’t bring herself to look at him. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It was self-defence,” he’s quick to interject with a sharp tone, holding her chin and forcing her to face him, his expression stern. “It was self-defence. Say it.”

“It was self-defence,” her voice wavers.

As far as he is concerned, it was self-defence.

And that’s exactly what he’ll tell anyone who asks. He was there after all, watching from the rooftops as she completed her first patrol alone.

The moonlight blast, although weak, was perfect - a burst of blinding light and the criminal was eviscerated. But her reaction astounded him. She let out a pained gasp, stumbling backwards until she hit the wall, her hands struggling for purchase.

Then it dawned on him - this was the first time she’d killed someone.

The clean-up crew was already on their way but by the time they had arrived, she’d already left, taking off in such a hurry that she didn’t even see him.

Now he kneels next to her tub, releasing her chin and returning to the task at hand, ensuring that every last drop of blood, every last piece of gore is cleaned from her body and her hair. Her gaze returns to the water, watching as it turns red.

“Your suit, gloves and boots will be incinerated, Vought always has multiple copies anyway.”

She doesn’t speak, only nods a little in acknowledgement.

“Tip your head back, I need to wash your hair.”

She does as she’s told, currently a far cry from the headstrong Luna he knows and loves. The entire event has affected her but it shouldn’t, she’s a supe after all. It’s her job to protect people from criminals.

He washes her hair with the same care he used to wash her body, washing some of the individual strands that are stained red. It takes about half an hour until he’s sure she’s completely clean, not a single trace left. He stands, offering his hand to help her out of the tub which she hesitatingly takes.

Despite the fact she’s completely naked, his only interest is to make sure that she is remotely okay. After all, she’s one of only two members of the Seven he likes. The other is Black Noir but he can take care of himself.

He hands her the towels, puts his gloves back on and leaves the bathroom to find her something to wear. He knows her dresser intimately, knowing exactly what drawer has what so he finds one of her black nightdresses, and lies it on the bed. While simultaneously taking a pair of her panties for good measure.

Taking out his phone, he types a quick message and a ‘cleaner’ almost automatically appears, bagging up the ruined garments and mopping the floor, disappearing just as Luna emerges from the bathroom.

She’s stopped shaking at the very least, occasionally glancing up at him, her arms around herself. It’s her defence mechanism, one he’s come to learn well.

“Thank you,” it’s no longer meek - she’s rebuilding her walls, regaining her strength, becoming Luna again. “It was-“

“Self-defence,” he says bluntly. “I saw you in action for the first time. I know it was meant to be a solo patrol but I couldn't resist. You made me extremely proud, I’m glad to have a supe of your calibre on the team.”

“It was self-defence” - Recognition. Acceptance.

“Good night Luna.”

He strides out the door, waiting until he’s far enough away to let out a deep breath he didn’t even know he was holding. That was the closest he’d ever gotten to her but despite her vulnerable state, the only thing he wanted to do was protect her.

To show her he could be trusted.

Luna can’t stop crying.

Every time she closes her eyes, she can see the man standing before her, gun in hand, ready to take her on. Then the flash of blinding light followed by a deafening scream. The man’s remains a bloody mess against the brick wall.

She sits on the edge of her bed, hyperventilating and shaking. If Vought finds out, that'll be it, she’ll be out of the Seven and back home with her family. Leather-clad hands grab her face, forcing her to look up at Homelander.

“Will you stop fucking crying?” He’s pissed. “You killed someone, a fucking criminal, a fucking dumb useless fuck of a human, in self-defence.”

“He…”

“Oh boo fucking hoo, he woke up today and decided to commit a fucking crime and what did you do? You acted like a supe, like a member of the Seven. I was there, I watched this man threaten you, I watched him try to attack you so you acted in self-defence.”

The tears are still falling, “but what if Vought finds out?”

“Vought already knows,” he replies, annoyed. “Who do you think cleans up our little ‘accidents’? You acted in self-defence and the sooner you get it through your fucking head, the better it’ll be for everyone. Because this is starting to get on my nerves and you don’t want to make me angry.”

His eyes flared red to prove his point, enough to make her swallow the lump in her throat. Then he smiles, patting her cheek.

“There’s a good girl.”

Luna has barely slept and now she’s been summoned to the Seven boardroom.

She’s done her best with her makeup to make herself seem more awake, more alert and not like she’s spent more of the night crying. It’s like she’s moving in slow motion, doing her best to maintain her composure however it’s slipping by the second. She takes a deep breath just as the doors to the boardroom automatically open.

However, what greets her is unexpected.

It’s Homelander and Ashley, accompanied by photographers from the in-house media team and another woman whom Luna vaguely remembers. Homelander is quick to get his arm around Luna’s waist, leading her towards the group.

“Luna, this is Elaine Tucker. I’m sure you remember her from last night when you saved her life.”

Her mind has been so fogged up by the memory of the man she killed that she forgot why she was chasing him. He was attacking a woman, a robbery gone wrong. The woman before her is covered in cuts and bruises but seems mostly okay.

The woman rushes forward, wrapping her arms around Luna and hugging her tightly. It takes a few seconds before Luna’s mind works out what’s going on and reciprocates.

“Thank you,” Elaine says through tears. “I was so scared, he wanted to hurt me but then you appeared like an angel. You saved my life. Thank you so much.”

Luna’s speechless -  her eyes darting towards Homelander who just smirks. He’s gone out of his way to find this woman currently singing her praises. The photographers start snapping photos while Luna looks more like a deer in the headlights.

Elaine finally pulls away, smiling and crying, her hand on Luna’s cheek. “Thank you so much. You’re just so wonderful.”

Luna does her best to smile sincerely, but it comes across as strained. She’s fighting against the urge to admit to the woman that she killed the man who attacked her. However, the urge leaves her completely when she feels Homelander’s fingers pressing on her lower back, a thinly veiled threat to ensure she behaves.

“I’m very proud of Luna,” he says to Elaine. “She’s done so well. It was a bit of a rocky start, but now, she’s just a little star. She makes me so proud and I must admit.”

When she turns to face him, there’s a predatory smile on his lips. It unnerves her considerably more than the fingers on her lower back. “She’s my favourite teammate. There’s something special about seeing a beautiful, powerful heroine defend herself against a criminal and Luna’s powers are very unique.”

Luna swallows down the lump in her throat, turning back to the cameras and smiling the most sincere smile she can manage. Her back straightens when she feels him drag his fingers up her spine, resting his hand between her shoulder blades where her suit doesn't cover her.

So she stands there between Elaine and Homelander, trying to ignore how he presses his palm to her skin, splaying his fingers. After last night, she figures that she owes him.

And she worries about what the price will be.

[brightaxe]

i know it’s still early so you might be holding off on developing too much, but do you have any jehanne info you can/feel comfy sharing? 👀 her aesthetic is already 👌

me? holding off on developing an oc? 💗

seriously, though, i appreciate your interest in her so much because i've been fully consumed by her, lmao.

as for bare bones development, jehanne is an orlesian grey warden. she's elven, too, and was born in a small village outside of highever. under the cut is... hm. i got a little carried away, but it's most of what i've thought up for her so far!

only a child of two when the blight hit ferelden, her parents took her and her older brother and followed the small horde of refugees pouring into jader in order to escape the darkspawn threat. her father was extraordinarily strong for an elf and handy besides, and he proved beyond helpful to both his fellow refugees on the road and also the townspeople (and wardens) of jader. he was a hunter, you see, beyond his smattering of other skills. he provided for his village at the behest of the bann whose property stretched well into the forest that separated their village from his bannorn. and accustomed to having permission to provide, her father did that very same thing when he saw his wife and his children and the hundreds of refugees beginning to starve. except, they were no longer in ferelden, and the bann remained in his castle back home. it was lady seryl who led jader, and it was lady seryl who heard of the slain bucks and rabbits and the caught fish. not wanting to seem overly unkind to the refugees who crowded the perimeter of her city, she offered them permission to hunt... after condemning jehanne's father for doing it without that same permission. the wardens were quick to interfere, as ever. they offered her father a place among them to avoid lady seryl's ax. he accepted, of course, worried for his family, though they would not be his family for much longer. as always, little went as according to their plan. disease swept through the fereldan refugee camp, burning as quick and as hot as fire-kissed straw. her mother and brother were counted among the dead, and she was brought to the wardens' keep in jader to be looked over by her father rather than handed off to some other family just for her to meet the same fate.

her father died in the joining. there were murmurs that this was because he was grieving for his wife and his son, fearful for what would become of his daughter. others claimed that grief had naught to do with it. but in the end, the cause did not matter. her father was dead, and the wardens of jader had a two year old girl to look after.

jehanne had only known the names darling and treasure before the death of her parents. they had not yet chosen a name for her, and so, the wardens were given another task involving the girl. it was a former minstrel who named her, weaving the name jehanne into one of the only songs that helped the child sleep.

she was a lovely child -- easily raised and clever, with an adventurous streak that some of the wardens encouraged and the others condemned. she was raised by each of them, in one way or another. every lesson conflicted with another, though she was quick to figure out which of them was utter nonsense.

the warden she clung to hardest was a fereldan, just like her. warden loghain mac tir was brought into the keep a year after she'd arrived, and she stuck to his side like an auburn-headed shadow. he had some experience with daughters, she learned, and he was the gentlest when it came to brushing her hair.

though she had barely known her parents and did not remember the loss of them, growing up in a warden's keep acquainted her with grief quickly enough. whether it was the calling or darkspawn or some other threat, she lost a fair few of her protectors as she grew up. but rather than that stopping her from wanting to become a warden, rather than letting the fear of death absolutely consume her, it only made her more desperate to join their ranks.

when she wasn't learning, she was training. and when she wasn't training, she was resting, musing, dreaming about heroics that she'd only ever heard in the mouth of her bard of a mother.

loghain did his best by her. he attempted to instill a certain amount of patience in her to no avail, and when he realized that those particular lessons were not taking, he picked up his bow and taught her that, as well as the sword and shield she'd taken to like a fish to water.

better to be well-armed, well-trained, and foolish than simply foolish, he grunted.

and she learned. everything he put before her, she devoured with as much enthusiasm, no matter how quickly she took to the weapon or the fighting style. even when she ended up bruised and battered, she went to sleep with a smile on her face.

this continued for years and years after. when loghain left jader to travel with hawke, she continued. when the men and women who took care of her left to pursue their calling, even long before they should have, she continued. and when they returned, red-faced, she was still there, still doggedly pursuing the same path.

after everything they had seen, the wardens of jader did not want her to take the joining.

but they also did not have the heart to deny her the opportunity.