#I wish I could take a warm salt bath...

[yaekiss]

RAAAHHH get some eeps! and maybe also take a nice warm salt bath to soothe those muscles

eeping soon! My headache still hasn't gone away so I'll sleep as soon as I finish showering!

[ro-is-struggling]

Self care || Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky always seemed interested in your skin care routine, so when one day he arrives tired and drained from a mission, you take the opportunity to show him the importance and benefits of self-care.

Warnings: established relationship, brief mention to Bucky’s past trauma, a fuck ton of fluff, my little knowledge of skin care lol

English is not my first language

Word count: 2200

Notes: this was inspired by a dream I had. I thought it was cute and I couldn't get it out of my head, so I wrote this little thing. If it doesn’t make sense, blame my dumb dreams lol

It was one of the first times you slept over at Bucky's place that you discovered he didn't have a skin care routine. He would look at you cleansing your face from the bathroom door, watching you apply creams and serums with a mixture of admiration and confusion in his expression. And every time you picked up a new product, he would ask you what it was and what did it do. 

It didn't really surprise you, most of the men you had dated tended to use a small number of personal hygiene products and usually the facial skin was only treated with soap and water. And if that was men your age, it was to be expected that Bucky and his over one hundred years of age were not aware of the benefits of skin care.You found his reactions kind of adorable. It wasn't every day that you caught Bucky acting with the naïve curiosity of a child, and you couldn't help but laugh as you answered his endless questions.

"Please tell me you at least wear sunscreen." You said and Bucky remained silent. "Oh my God, Bucky!" you complained, explaining to him how dangerous the sun was for his skin.

"After all I've been through, I don't think a little sun is going to kill me, doll." He laughed, coming up to you to hug you from behind. You wrapped your arms around his, smiling at him in the mirror as he rested his chin on your shoulder. 

The bastard knew how cute he was —looking at you through the mirror with blue eyes full of love—, and he was using it to his advantage to keep you from scolding him. He was probably right, the super soldier serum surely protected him from skin cancer in the same way it protected him from hits and falls that would be fatal to the rest of humanity. But still, it wouldn't hurt him to take care of himself a little every now and then.

"You smell nice." Bucky praised you, inhaling the subtle floral scent the creams had left on your skin. He gave you a kiss on the cheek, his stubble tickling your sensitive face. You laughed and he knew he had won.

"Don't think you're getting out of this so easily." you warned, tilting your head to the side so you could kiss him. "Flattery will get you nowhere!"

From that day on you decided that you would put together a skincare routine for Bucky. Super Soldier serum or not, everyone's skin needed a little help from time to time. And besides, you believed it was something that could benefit Bucky in more ways than just one. It would teach him to take better care of himself and to value the precious 'me time'. And god knew he needed that. So you made a mental note to buy a couple of products for him the next time you went to restock some of your kit and stopped thinking about it for a while.

That was until one day Bucky came home tired from a mission. You didn't quite know what he had to do and he didn't want to tell you much about it either when you asked him. Not knowing tore you apart, but you respected his wishes and didn't press the issue, deciding to help him in a way that wasn't invasive. You started with running him a bath, filling the tub with warm water and using some of your bath salts and lotions to create a more relaxing environment. You insisted on taking care of him, although Bucky didn't put up much resistance, surrendering to the soothing power of your caresses on his hair. Your fingers gently massaged his scalp, coating it with shampoo to remove all the dirt before rinsing it and repeating the process with conditioner.

He still found such intimacy a bit strange. Even though he enjoyed it, he still wasn't completely used to being cared for with the affection you showed him. It had been so long since anyone had treated him with such love and care that he could hardly remember it. But he felt safe in your hands, happy to have you in his life. A light of hope at the end of the dark tunnel of agony that had been his life. That was what you were to him. His second chance to live, to love. So he relaxed under your touch and let your gentle caresses take all the tiredness and worries out of his system.

But your pampering didn't end when Bucky got out of the tub. After he changed into his pajamas and laid down on his side of the bed, you emerged from the bathroom with a small white bag in your hands. You rested it on the nightstand and began pulling out various products he recognized from your skin care routine, arranging them in a nice neat line. 

"Doll... what are you doing?" Bucky asked, looking at the pink cat-ear headband you held in your hands. It was the one you always wore when you did your makeup or skin care routine, a tool you used to keep your hair out of your face while you worked. He always thought you looked adorable when you used it, but he didn't understand why you were directing it at him this time.

"Taking care of you." You replied as if it were obvious, "I want to show you the benefits of having a good skin care routine." Bucky hesitated for a moment, but eventually gave in to your soft smile and the sparkle of enthusiasm in your eyes. There was nothing he could say no to if you looked at him that way.

He gave you a slight nod and you took that as a signal to continue. You climbed onto the bed, settling onto his lap with one leg on either side of him, so you could face him and work more comfortably. Bucky put his hands on your hips instinctively, the cold metal of his fingers giving you goose bumps at the unexpected touch. But you didn't move them, you liked his hands there.

"First we have to make sure your hair is out of the way." You announced as you placed the headband on his head, making sure no hair was out of place or near his face. You couldn't help but let out a giggle as you admired Bucky wearing the accessory. The pink, furry cat ears looked so out of place it was ridiculous. The clear feminine energy of the headband clashed against the distinctive masculine look on his expression in a fun and charming way. It made him look adorable if you were honest, especially when he smiled at you. He could definitely pull it off.

"How do I look?" Bucky asked, batting his eyelashes in an exaggerated fashion. 

"Adorable." You replied between giggles, before giving him a quick peck on the lips.

When you broke apart, you began your skin care routine, taking a piece of cotton and your favorite micellar water to cleanse Bucky's skin. He looked at you closely, taking advantage of the position you were in to admire your beauty up close while you concentrated on soaking the cotton ball in the liquid. You were the most beautiful woman in the world, he was sure, and not only that, you were kind and loving too. A wonderful person all around and he still didn't understand how he had managed to get you by his side, but he was happy about it.

"Why do you have to clean my face? I just showered." Bucky mumbled with his eyes closed, feeling your delicate fingers on his chin as you ran wet cotton across his face.

You let out a giggle. "Water is not enough! And regular soap is too harsh on the skin of our face, so you need to use a cleanser or cream that is meant for the face."

"I never heard about that." Bucky frowned, tilting his head slightly to the side in confusion.

"Because you're a guy and guys are used to using one product for everything hygiene related."

“That’s not true!” he tried to defend himself, although he didn't sound very convinced.

You decided to skip a few steps in the routine to keep things simple. The idea was not only to pamper Bucky and help him relax, but also show him that maintaining a skin care routine didn't have to be complicated and could bring him many benefits. So you went straight to the eye cream, taking some with your ring finger and carefully applying it to the bags under his eyes.

"Stay still! You're gonna make me poke your eye if you move like that!"

"It already feels like you're poking my eye!"

"Don't be so dramatic!" You laughed, men really were cry babies. "Just close your eyes and trust me." Bucky grumbled, pouting. You planted a quick kiss on his lips, and that seemed to please him because he kept his eyes closed and stopped moving. Carefully, you spread the eye cream over his dark circles, giving his skin time to absorb the product before proceeding with the last step.

"What is that?" Bucky asked you curiously as you reached for the last tub in the line of products. 

"It's a night cream. You're supposed to use it at night after you wash your face to keep your skin moisturized."

"Isn't that what the other cream did?"

"No, silly! That was just for your under eye area, this helps hydrate the rest of your face. We need to give back all the good things we got rid off when we cleaned your skin of all the dirt and oils clogging your pores."

Bucky made an annoyed face, muttering about how complicated it all sounded. But the truth was, he was enjoying the extra attention you were giving him. He had you all to himself, the warmth of your body enveloping him in a comforting embrace as your fingers gently massaged his face. He couldn't think of a better definition of paradise than that. Just the two of you sharing an intimate moment, far from the horrors of the outside world. He could commit to a skin care routine if it involved at least a third of the pampering you were giving him at that moment.

"You don't need to use much," you continued your explanation, dipping one of your fingertips into the cream before bringing it up to Bucky's face. "Just a little bit here, here, here... and here." You painted a couple of white dots on his cheeks, forehead and chin, kissing the tip of his nose before applying a bit of cream to the area. It was such a cute and intimate act he almost blushed.

The first thing Bucky noticed about the cream was the scent. It had a light rose fragrance that was familiar to him, comforting even. It traveled up his nostrils as you massaged the cream into his face, sparking a warm and fuzzy feeling inside him. It took him a few seconds to understand that it was because that was the same rose scent he recognized on your skin whenever he kissed you, that sweet floral scent he had learned to recognize as home. He finally knew he had your choice in moisturizer to thank for it. 

"You're using your cream on me?"

"Yes, it's the only one I had. The perfume doesn't last long, don't worry. I'll buy you an unscented one tomorrow."

"No, don't! I like this one, it smells like you... it's like having a little piece of you with me all the time."

You didn't expect him to say that, so you weren't prepared for the tingling warmth of love that coursed through your body. The idea that he wanted to keep you close at all times, that he recognized your scent and found comfort and safety in it, made your heart melt with love. Bucky was normally a man of few words, and tended to show his feelings with other things rather than words. Acts of service were his most common way of showing how much he loved you, although he also resorted to spending quality time together whenever you had free time. But every once in a while, he would manage to drop a sentence like that, which in concise words made it clear how much he loved you. Always taking you by surprise, he would drop them at the most casual moments, leaving you completely stupid for a few seconds as you processed his words and wondered what you had done to deserve having someone so wonderful in your life. 

Bucky gave you a shy smile, cheeks turning pink under your gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable. He looked so adorable that you couldn't help but join your lips with his in a slow, loving kiss. He reciprocated immediately, one of his hands leaving your waist to cradle your cheek, pressing you tighter against him and deepening the kiss. 

"I love you," you muttered against his lips, pressing your forehead against his as you gazed into his deep blue eyes.

Bucky smiled, feeling the last bit of stress evaporate from his system thanks to you and your sweetness.  "I love you too."

[elementaryhallelujahs]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ fingers dimming the lights

mdni, 18+ only

the home office is bathed in warm, ambient light—it always is at this time of the night, familiar and soothing, exactly like the figure sat at the desk, hunched over her laptop. alex knows her work schedule is erratic, she works with people all over the world like he does, different time zones and different countries, and not that she’s a slave to her laptop but she does work a tad too much if you ask him. 

still, he lets her be and stays in the corner of the room, flicking through his book. he lets her be that is, until he sees her rubbing her eyes tiredly and stifle another yawn. she reaches for the mug next to her, brings it to her lips, and frowns. it’s empty. 

then she stretches like a cat—back arched, arms elongated—before curling into herself. that, evidently, does it for him. 

silently, he sets the book aside and walks up behind her. she barely even notices until his hands are on her shoulders, feeling the knots in her muscles, trying to massage the tension away. 

“you’re tired,” alex tuts and feels her shrug. “come to bed. it’s almost ten.”

she snorts lightly. “you know i can’t for another two hours at least, besides, i’ll be free tomorrow. then i’m all yours.”

“you’re already all mine,” he teases and kneads the knots again. (he does make a mental note though, to get her a proper warm bath tomorrow; bubbles and salts and candles and all.)

“come on, love,” alex tries again but she only hums a bit. and then she turns to him with a full pout. 

“i wish, babe. but i’ve got to have a very grown-up, professional zoom call while trying to hide the fact that i’m wearing pyjama bottoms. two more hours, i promise.”

and just like that she’s back to facing her laptop, back to clacking away on the keyboard, making that soothing sound of her nails against it that he loves so much. right now, alex bends down and kisses her neck gently. 

“when does your call start?”

“umm, eleven…”

the suspicion in her voice makes him grin and then he places a few more kisses down her neck and on her shoulders. 

“could relax you a little till then,” he murmurs, “put you in a better mood.”

she tilts her head up to him and laughs. “what’s got you in a mood, sweet boy?”

the moniker makes him smile wider. his fingers continue tracing soothing patterns, and his lips leave gentle kisses on the nape of her neck. 

“just need you to take a short break, ’s all. your laptop won't run away, baby, the the call is still an hour away.”

the next time alex looks at her, there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes. that, and the way she subtly bites her lower lip… and alex knows he’s won her over 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the first thing he does is lay her down on the bed, then he dims the lights until their bedroom is just as cosy as her workspace—all warm and golden. 

the anticipation of it has definitely gotten to her. alex can almost see her trembling on the bed, back slightly arched, her nipples peaking out from her thin t-shirt, hair an effortless mess. the sight of her sends his neurons into overdrive and he feels the familiar tingling as all his blood rushes south.

“let me take care of you, darling,” he whispers, “just relax for me…”

his words effect her immediately, make her toes curl and her mouth part almost as if she’s anticipating the gasp that he will draw out of her. 

“there’s my sweet girl,” he trails a hand over her leg—starting from her ankle and up her calf and then up her thigh until his fingers are at her hip. the knot of her pyjama shorts is next. 

all he has to do is give it a light tug before he’s sliding it off her legs. she helps by lifting up her hips, then eagerly shimmies out of her underwear. 

“look at you now,” alex teases. then he leans down, his lips dangerously close to her stomach. "come on, baby," he purrs, “spread your legs for me.”

something like a whimper and a moan echoes around the room and alex drags a finger through her slit, lazily collecting the wetness, coaxing her and spreading her open while his mouth presses kisses all over. her lower stomach first, then her thighs. meanwhile, his thumb finds her clit and a jolt goes through her body. 

“fuck fuck fuck alex…” she moans out loud and a thrill goes down his spine. 

fuck, here he is—tasting her and touching her and making her feel this way. his girl, she is his girl. and oh he’s never been one to be primal and possessive but all he can think about at the moment is that she is his. 

she is his and he is hers. 

and he loves her. 

he loves her so fucking much.

she gasps when he sucks on her clit, letting his teeth graze it gently every once in a while. her thighs tremble under his hands, her muscles shifts and alex doesn’t stop her at all when she squeezes her thighs together—the pressure on his head is delicious and spine-tingling anyway. it’s heady and intoxicating, just like her scent, her taste. 

“oh god, al,” she moans loudly. “fuck, just like that…” her fingers tangle in his hair, tugging and pulling while she squirms under his touch, grinds herself against his face and alex takes it all.

his tongue laps at her folds, his nose pushing against her clit and her screams are like music to his ears. better than anything he’s ever heard. better than anything he’s ever created.

his cock throbs desperately, twitching and hard, dying to feel her clenching around his now, to feel her squeezing him until his vision goes white and he fills her up. he can practically see the image in front of his eyes—his cum dripping out of her, making a mess on her thighs. mess that he could clean up with his tongue or with his fingers and push all of it back inside her. fill her up completely. 

she clenches around nothing then and for a moment alex almost cums in his pants. but he can tell she’s close now. her hips rock against his face and her thighs squeeze his head harder. nails dig into his scalp making him hiss but she’s so close, he can almost taste her release on his tongue. 

“so perfect for me,” he urges and lets his teeth drag over her clit again. “let me taste you, darling, yeah? i know you’re close.”

“so, so close…” she trails off and alex can’t resist the urge to place a kiss on her thigh. a soft request maybe or even a way to coax her. 

“let go for me then,” he breathes and pushes his thumb against her clit. his tongue thrusts inside her again and she mewls out his name again. louder than before.

“don’t stop, al, don’t—” and he feels it then, feels her drenching his lips and his chin. feels the spasm of her thighs and feels her ragged breaths reverberating through her body. 

just like she requested, he doesn’t stop. he laps up every last drop she has to over, fucks her with his tongue till she’s completely done riding out her orgasm. only once he feels her body go slack does he straighten. 

and alex is met with the loveliest sight he can imagine.

her hair is sprawled all over the pillow, messy and gorgeous. her face is flushed, lip bitten till it’s raw and red. alex sees a sliver of her underboob from where her t-shirt rode up but it’s when he looks at her thighs does he see all the red marks he’s left behind… 

all the kisses and hickeys and slight stubble burn. light bruises on her thighs from holding onto her so tight. 

she’s marked and some primal part of him can’t get enough of the sight. 

quickly alex moves to her and captures her mouth in his. her tongue slides in his mouth instantly, and alex knows she can taste herself on his tongue. quietly, she moans in his mouth and he feels like he’s going to burst right then.

but there’s the matter of the fucking call…

he has no idea how much time has passed but he knows she needs to leave soon while he tosses and turns restlessly in their bed, surrounded by the scent of her, still tasting her—

“where are you going?” her voice comes out as a breathless rasp and alex realises he’s pulling away. 

“well… well, i though you had the call, love…” 

she clicks her tongue and her smile turns into her grin. 

“oh you’re not leaving this bed,” she declares. “i’m texting them that i don’t feel well.”

slowly, a smile spreads over his face and alex shudders under her touch. 

“whatever happened to being adult and professional,” he teases breathlessly but she’s already pulling up his t-shirt, already lifting it over his head. 

“oh no,” she tuts, “none of that. not when i have much better things to do…”

[prophecyofwinter]

Se Riña Qilōni Iprattan Se Jēdar | V

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary | Saera Targaryen daughter of Jaehaerys I ran away from Westeros to escape her fate. 45 years later her daughter Y/N Targaryen, with invitation from King Viserys wishes to go back.

Tags | Angst, Slowburn (Hot&Cold), TargCest, Smut, Standard ASOIAF content, Aemond and Reader are First Cousins Once Removed, Reader is Self-serving, tags to be added

Word Count: 3k

Prologue | Chapter IV | Chapter VI | Masterlist

Chapter V | He Won’t Forget

“It is the hour of the nightingale my lady, you must wake up.” A hushed voice stirs you from your sleep and shakes you awake. A groan escaped your throat and you opened your eyes to meet the voice that woke you. A girl no older than yourself stood above you, with pitch black hair and wearing what you would assume to be a maids attire. It was still very early in the morning, the sun hadn't even broken the horizon.

You could tell there was one other maid by the torch light, she was lighting candles that were scattered in different places throughout the room.

“She is not a lady quite yet, miss will do until then.” By the other maids' voice you could tell she was older and more seasoned. You sat up against the headboard to wake yourself up some more. Naturally, the furs that covered your body in the night slipped down exposing your upper torso.

“Miss makes me sound like a spinster.” You groaned while stretching your arms. You step out full from under the sheets, standing on the cold stone floor. The younger maid has a robe open for you to slip into and you follow.

“The Queen has ordered that you see her and the Hand of the King before midday. In that time we must get you bathed, fed, and clothed.” The older maid said while reaching for a jug to spill into a metal bathtub that you hadn’t even noticed.

“Very well. Since you’ve already seen my breasts, I assume it’s appropriate for me to ask your names?” You laugh to yourself as you wrap the front of the robe criss cross. The younger one finds it funny and lets out a soft laugh while the older one simply clears her throat.

“My name is Mela, and this young one is Ellyn. While I am experienced, you are the first person Ellyn has served so please forgive her childishness“ Mela sends a warning glare at Ellyn for her giggles. Ellyn pouts for a moment before joining Mela in emptying the water jugs. You look at the features of the two women for the first time, Mela has blonde hair and Ellyn a medium brown.

It seems counterproductive to put a robe on just to take it off moments later to bathe. As soon as they are finished filling the tub, the water has cooled enough to not be boiling hot. You grab onto both sides of the tub and sink in slowly. A moan escapes your lips as you feel your muscles truly relax. Being on a ship for almost a month didn’t give you many hot warm baths, just room temperature ones. Mela pushes you forward so she could access your back to begin washing. While Ellyn poured scented oils into the water filling your nose with a smell you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

You could fall asleep right there, especially when your hair was being washed. Her nails massaging your scalp with even better smelling things. You’ve had your hair washed by another person a few times, but then it was by one of your mothers prostitutes in the workers' baths with her breasts pressed against your back. Up in the air which one you preferred.

For the first time a while you felt fully and utterly clean. You wanted to whine when the water cooled down to the point where it was no longer comforting to sit in. Ellyn holds up the same robe as before waiting for you to slip in. Being careful to not slip as you leave the tub, you put on the robe.

————

As your hair dries, your breakfast is set in front of you. Bread, butter, assorted fruits, salted fish and sweet wine. Mela tells you this is what is normally served in Westeros, a larger variety is served if you decide to eat meals with the Targaryens. You pick and choose from what you are given and take your fill.

A knock clearly made by metal against wood rings through the quiet room. You let out a sigh having an inkling that it may be a certain white haired brother of yours. You speak out a ‘come in’, and maybe you should pick up gambling. Vaegon walked in with clinking armor and his hand on the pommel of his sword.

“Forgive me sister, I didn’t mean to interpret your very important work. But, while I don’t need permission to protect my sister, I have been allowed to be your personal guard until you're fully settled.” Vaegon held himself proudly, he’s clearly getting a kick from being allowed to stalk and follow you around in the name of protecting you. His weird little dream is being fueled.

This news makes a shiver roll down your spine. If you weren’t already full you would’ve lost your appetite. “That's… Great brother. That means you’ll be leaving after me and Aemond marry then?”

He clearly stiffens up at the implication, gripping his sword harder. “Most likely yes, unless you still need me here. I recommend you keep me here by your side.”

“No, I’m sure Volantis needs you more than I do. The temple needs you and silver wouldn’t suit you.” You say passive aggressively hoping he will get the hint. After many years he still hasn’t understood so you knew your hopes would be set to the side.

Vaegon opens his mouth again to voice his opinion but you cut him off swiftly.

“I am quite full, I should be getting dressed brother. Make your leave. Now.”

He staggers for a minute before leaving with his tail between his legs. Nothing would dissuade Vaegon from his passions, if he died his ghost would haunt you surely. When the door shut an awkward silence filled the room, neither of the maids sure what to do next. You realize how this must look, harassing your brother. But you know him, they don’t.

The chair squeaks on the floor when you stand up to face your maids and give them a smile. “It's about time I get dressed, no? I would hate to be late.”

A ‘yes of course’ was said in usion and you were guided to a full mirror. You stripped from your robe, seeing yourself fully for the first time in a while. A month at sea and you still looked as beautiful as always.

From what you have seen, Aemond is a proud and cold man. Most likely due to your bastard status. But, men are men at the end of the day, their desires will get the best of them even if it’s against their morals.

You slip into your small clothes, in the mirror you see Mela holding a red dress that you don’t recognize from the ones you brought. You turn to take a proper look at it, it looks like a fairly simple dress. Long sleeves with slits from the forearms down, straight neckline, long skirt, faint decorations throughout, and there's a chain resting on the dress that will dangle across your waist.

“Whose dress is this? Surely you can’t just have ones this nice lying around?”

“Well, it did belong to someone but it was left behind over 6 years ago and hadn't been worn even longer ago than that. Queen Alicent said to go through old wardrobes and find you something for the time being.”

You hoped it was at least washed before giving it to you. It was very pretty, very pretty, but second hand all the same. It was bunched up for you to step in and put on. You felt the strings on the back be picked up and before you could react they were harshly yanked back and all the air was forced from your lungs. A whine escaped from your throat and hands gripped the sides of the mirror. A string of panicked apologies follow as you recollect yourself.

“No no, it’s quite alright. I just wasn’t ready. Whoever owned this had real taste, they have my thanks.” You posed in the mirror, finding a position that wasn't crushing your ribs. The chain was clasped round your waist and groups of your hair are braided back.

A smile creeps onto your face. This small taste of importance is greater than any wine in Essos. Baths to yourself, food served directly in your chambers, lovely kind maids who dress you themselves, soon to be called a Princess with a Prince by your side… It is almost enough.

—————

Vaegon stood two paces behind you. You originally told him to stand 10 paces behind but he insisted. You can’t win every battle. A guard walked you both deeper into the keep. He didn’t tell you where you were going, just that it was by the Queen's orders. You pray it isn’t to get probed again.

Suddenly you hear footsteps approaching rapidly towards you. You turn around and see a clearly Targaryen man, white wavy hair and a slightly shorter stature than Aemond. He looks excited, really excited.

“Just the girl I was looking for. I needed to see you for myself.” He caught up quickly and walked right next to you. The guard uttered a ‘my Prince’ and continued his walk. He could either be Aegon or Daeron.

“You’re Aegon, yes?”

“Did my good looks and charm give it away?” Aegon laughs and you laugh with him. Aegon looks around with his hands out feigning shock. “Where’s my brother?”

“I don’t think Aemond likes me that much.” You let out huff mixed with a laugh while gazing at Aegon from the side.

“He’s always had a stick up his ass, don’t take it too personally. He’ll come around eventually, I certainly would.” Aegon whispers the last part into your ear with a hand on your back, you can smell the wine on his breath. You are surprised by his boldness, but far from the worst things you’ve heard. You give him a straight lipped smile and lean back into him.

“Where am I going?” You whispered slowly with passive aggression.

“Oh? You haven’t heard? I’m surprised you haven’t been told. In the throne room they are reading your letter of legitimization.” He wears a smile so wide you would know he’s drunk immediately. Your eyes go wide. Is it happening this fast? You just got here, you’d thought it would at least take some time.

“Normally it’s a simple letter, but since you are already here…” Aegon makes a weird gesture with his hands.

That makes sense, all you need is a letter from the king, and the King has already asked you to come. You imagine the rest of them would just want to get it out of the way. At least Aegon doesn’t seem to care, maybe too drunk to care.

Not too long until you arrive at the doors to the iron throne. Doors as tall as the ceiling and two men stand at the front, noticing Aegon and you they grip onto the rings of the door and pull them open.

The first thing that graces your eyes is the Iron Throne. It was grand, on top of all those steps with swords casted together. It entranced you. Your mother told you about the Iron Throne, only once. She said her father sat on it like a god and he called her a whore. She’d hoped that it would stab him through the chest just as it did to Maegor.

Snapping you out of your short lived daydream, Aegon grabbed your wrist and led you in a direction. All of the lords and ladies were staring at you both, you hope it wouldn’t linger for long. Near the front of the room you could see that it was Aemond, Alicent, and another silver haired girl. Helena, you believe you were told?

“Look who I found! Ran into her on the way here.” Aegon walked you over to Aemond directly and grabbed his arm and forcibly linked your and Aemonds arms together.

“I believe you lost this brother.” Aegon patted his brother on the back and caressed your shoulder. Between the two of you he caught a glimpse of a servant boy carrying wine and simply moved on to drink his fill. Aegon's mind is an enigma…

Aemond lets out a huff but doesn’t let go. He leans into you with darkened eyes. “What do you think you are doing?”

“I was talking to my future brother-in-law. He is quite funny.” You laugh in an attempt to lighten his mood. Of course, this doesn’t work and Aemond tightens his grip on your arm. Eyes were still on you both so he tried to make it look like a simple conversation.

“Don’t.”

Before you could scoff in Aemonds face, the doors are pulled open once again. You turn your head to see an older man with brown hair and a thick beard. This clearly is not King Viserys by the state of him.

“King Viserys is still too unwell to sit at court. As Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, I will assume his courtly duties.” The room is silent and there’s no sound but the clicks of his heels on the floor going across the floor, up the steps and sitting on the throne.

“First things first, a formal declaration of legitimization from King Viserys himself.” Otto held out a rolled up letter with a red seal holding it together. “Come. Present yourself to the court.” He motioned for you to step closer to the open center, Aemond released his hold and nudged you to go.

You detached from Aemond and walked to the center of the room in front of the Iron Throne. You swallowed hard with your hands folded in front of you, head held high. You wish you’d at least been told this was happening. If it wasn’t for Aegon you wouldn't have had the slightest idea.

The seal was popped open and the scroll unraveled by Otto and cleared his voice before he spoke.

‘As Viserys Targaryen, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.

It is with much honor to the Targaryen name,

My Cousin, Y/N of Volantis, daughter of Princess Saera Targaryen, is declared Princess Y/N Targaryen of House Targaryen.

From this day until your last.’

An applause echoed throughout the room, no doubt one done out of obligation. A smile decorated on your face hiding your anxieties and swirling thoughts.

“King Viserys and House Targaryen have my love and appreciation for allowing me into their walls. My mother is extremely pleased with this outcome.” You make a curtsey before the throne. Otto nods and gestures for you to return to where you stood previously next to Aemond.

You thought such a thing would be longer but it makes sense. Bastard legitimization isn’t something that is celebrated as a great thing like Weddings or Name Days. You stand next to Aemond for the next few proceedings until Alicent has Aemond to lean over to her and whisper something in his ear.

—————

You’re linked by the arm with Aemond as he walks you through the palace gardens. You assume this is what Alicent whispered to Aemond about. As your protector, Vaegon is nearby but you try to ignore him.

There is still a tension between you and Aemond that has persisted for the past 24 hours. You are unsure if it is just his nature or if it’s due to other obvious factors. Legitimization doesn’t change the social problems with being a bastard in Westeros. You didn’t expect it to, but you’re nothing if not ambitious.

“Do you take many walks through the gardens or am I special?” You laugh to break the silence.

“I prefer to walk in the gardens at night. For Privacy and it’s better at night.” Aemond doesn’t attempt to make eye contact, preferring to look forward.

“I would take similar walks myself in the courtyards in the Black Walls.” Aemond looks to the side ever so slightly with confusion. “Oh, Right. The Black Walls is this gigantic oval of walls that contains all kinds of things. Palaces, Courtyards, Temples and more. I think I’ll start missing it sometime soon.” Rambling and reminiscing makes you feel better.

Aemond seems to actually take interest, making full eye contact. “I believe I read about the Black Wall before. Only people who can trace their ancestry to Valyria are allowed in, correct?” He talks in a tone you haven’t heard yet, he’s being genuine.

A smile paints your face “You are well read. My father has property in those walls and my mother needs help in her older age so I would split my time between the two.” Hopefully you can visit soon, but realistically it wouldn’t happen for another year or more.

“Your father? No one seems to know anything about your father except that he has quite a bit of money.”

“Maybe I’ll tell you someday if I really like you. I might even want to take you to Volantis someday.” You tease him, holding onto him a little more snugly.

Aemond likes this banter showing you a small smile for the first time. Though, this doesn’t last long when you see a flicker behind his eyes and he pulls back emotionally and physically.

“Forgive me for cutting our walk short. I have lost track of time and I must head to the dragon pit.” He says with the same tone as he had with anything before this conversation. You swallow hard and attempt to say anything.

Aemond puts his gloved hand on your cheek and kisses the other. “I hope to see you at dinner.”

“I hope the same.”

Aemond takes his leave and all you do is watch him walk away. You bring your fingertips to your cheek and trace the area he kissed you on, your face drops with a sad expression.

“He remembered what you are, Sister. He won’t forget.” With Aemond gone, Vaegon is more comfortable getting closer to you. You hate that he is right. You can’t let him of all people be right.

It’s only been a day and you're chipping at Aemond faster than you thought. It feels like he’s chipping at you at the same time.

[written-in-the-stars3]

Before Aventurine, it was safe to say that Ratio’s life was not as hectic. He did as he pleased, whether it was working on his current research or simply reading in the bath— his routine revolved around no other than himself.

Now, things were different and out of routine. Ratio was not one who really appreciated being out of routine, so it was safe to say that it was an adjustment. He had gotten used to it being just himself in his apartment, now there was a whole other person; half of his wardrobe was now designated to his lover’s rather colorful attire. Aventurine knew no boundaries either, the blonde was far too quick to criticize his taste in clothes once he had moved in and replaced them with outfits that were “more fitting for a doctor”. Whatever that meant. 

Aventurine tested his patience as well— oh, how he loved to test his patience. Whether it was messing with his slides which his students were quick to take notice of. Luckily they all respected (or feared) him enough to not linger on the jokes, however, it didn’t make it any less annoying. Once Aventurine even changed his laptop background to a picture of the two which Ratio hadn’t noticed until he projected his screen for his students to see— it was a decent picture at most, the two comfortable on their couch, Ratio was reading a book while Aventurine leaned against him and took a picture. He rather liked the picture. But it wasn’t for his students' eyes to see! 

No matter how many times Ratio warned him to not call or text him during class, Aventurine always did the opposite, insisting that he missed his boyfriend and was eagerly awaiting his return. Ratio wasn’t sure if he was serious or simply just choosing to annoy him by doing exactly what he told him not to. But, whenever Ratio would come home, he would find Aventurine meeting him at the front door, greeting him with a kiss and a “welcome home, Veritas.”

Before Ratio would be met with a hauntingly quiet apartment. Now, there was a whole person awaiting his arrival and asking about his day. Ratio was one who appreciated a nice soak in the bath after work— Aventurine always had one ready for him. “I got some new bath salts that I think you might like. Let me know what you think!” A simple bubble bath was sufficient, but Ratio could not deny that he rather enjoyed the extra little additions… and he appreciated having a companion to enjoy a bath with.

They would rest against each other, not many words spoken as they quietly soaked in the warm water. Every so often Aventurine would ask about Ratio’s day, or what he wished to do in the evening. Afterwards, they would help each other dry off— not that Ratio required the assistance but Aventurine always insisted that they help each other. 

After a bath and dinner, Ratio would always require some time to catch up on his research or grade his student’s assignments. That was usually when he would get some alone time in his office while Aventurine caught up with his own work. His office still remained his space, but sometimes he would find little surprises whenever he would walk in.

“Where did these flowers come from?”

Aventurine peered through the door to see Ratio adjusting the vase of assorted flowers on his desk. “I picked some up for you this afternoon. I figured your office could use a little splash of color. Do you like them?”

“Well… they certainly aren’t atrocious,” no one had ever gotten him flowers before— no one ever really cared enough to think about the little things until this gambler weaseled his way into his life. 

“Geez, I’m glad you like them,” Aventurine chuckled and turned around to return back to his work, only to be stopped by Ratio who pulled him back and gave him a quick kiss on his forehead.

“Thank you. I appreciate the thought,” a simple statement made the blonde light up, but it was the least he could do to express his gratitude— because no one ever cared to this extent. No one ever cared to check up on him at work. No one ever cared to stay awake and wait for him to join them in bed. No one ever cared for simply wanting to be with him.

Before Aventurine, it was safe to say that Ratio’s life was not as hectic. But without a doubt, Aventurine brought colors into his life, colors he never knew existed until now.

[jobean12-blog]

Something Sweet

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Word Count: 636

Summary: You, Joel and Ellie make a stop by Bill and Frank’s place and have just a small moment of real peace. 

Author’s Note: This is for Navy and Roo’s slumber party @the-slumberparty week 1 and the prompt bouquet of flowers. When I saw this I was instantly hit with a few ideas but Joel was the first and since I haven’t written him yet I thought this might be a nice start. Thank you both for hosting and thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the sweet @firefly-graphics​ thank you love🥰

Warnings: Softness and fluff

This gives a nod to episode 3 of ‘The Last of Us’ but there are no real spoilers, however, just want to give you a heads up! 

You kneel on the ground, the grass soft and cool underneath you and the sun warm at your back as you sift through the tangled vines and leaves. Your eyes catch something bright red and you dig further until you uncover a real treat.

Smiling to yourself you begin to carefully collect the strawberries, your one free hand already full and the fresh smell wafting up to your nose.

The air is filled with the sounds of nature; several birds chirp and twitter in the large oak tree above you and honeybees buzz as they hover over the flowers of the strawberry plant.

You search around the area for something to hold them in and spot an old and rusted watering can.

The serenity of the moment surrounds you and for a brief moment you completely lose yourself in the smell of the strawberries and the feel of the sun.

You’re still headfirst in the plants when you hear the crunching of feet behind you. Your body immediately tenses and you reach for the gun hidden in your boot, the peace you felt vanishing on the breeze.

With a sharp turn of your head you spot Joel walking up to you, one hand hidden behind his back. The tension seeps out of you at the sight of his handsome face and even through the weathered lines around his eyes you can still see the softness that fills them.

“Guess what I found?” you ask with a small smile.

He lifts his eyebrows in question and waits.

You stand and show him the contents of the watering can. With a smile teasing the corners of his mouth he reaches his hand inside and pulls out a strawberry, brushing it off with his fingers. He holds it up to your lips.

You take a bite and close your eyes, giggling around the sweet taste. When you open them his gaze is lingering on your mouth and he brushes his calloused thumb over the corner, wiping away a stray drop of juice.

Reaching your hand up you grab his wrist and bring his palm to your cheek, leaning into his touch.

“What do you have back there?” you ask.

You playfully try to peek around his body but he blocks your view and takes the watering can from your hands.

Without a word he presents you with a bouquet of wildflowers neatly tied together with a frayed piece of old rope.

Your eyes meet and he graces you with a lopsided grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I know how much ya love ‘em darlin’,” he says quietly.

“Joel,” you whisper, taking them in your hands and holding them up to your nose.

You inhale a mixed but fragrant aroma and gently finger the soft and colorful petals.

“Thank you.”

He gathers you in his arms, plucking the bouquet from your fingers and resting it inside the watering can.

“I wish we could stay,” you admit quietly, relaxing your palms on his chest and toying with the open buttons of his shirt.

He doesn’t waste time with an answer he can’t give and tightens his hold on you, drawing you closer.

A soft breeze blows and rustles the leaves above, allowing a shaft of bright sunlight to slip through, bathing you in a warm glow. Your arms circle his neck and you comb your fingers through his salt and pepper hair before they slide down to caress his scruffy cheek.  

His eyelashes flutter closed and he leans into you, trailing his nose along your neck.

His eyes burn bright with all the words that hang in the small space between you and just as he dips his head, brushing his lips across yours, he whispers, “no matter where we go ‘m gonna make sure you always have flowers.”

[yumeaoka-chan]

Cater To You

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Reader/ Spider-Punk x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Tags: no physical description of reader, implied! jokes, ogling (unashamedly too), cooking, tired Hobie (Title from Cater 2 U by Destiny's Child), massage, Cursing, reader is AFAB

Summary: Hobie's had a rough week. Knowing this, you decide to take care of him for the night.

A/N: Credit to @mushroom-graphics-allotment for the lovely banners! First week of Octobie, @the-kr8tor !!! Let's go!!!

              Humming along to the music playing from your little speaker, you sway your hips as you shuffle around the kitchen. You lift a spoon to your lips, tasting the broth of the stew on the stove before adding a bit more salt and garlic powder. Now, satisfied with how it tastes, you glance over at the clock on the wall. It was nearing the time for your boyfriend to come home, having asked him to come back early tonight.

             “You plannin’ something, lovie?” He'd asked earlier that day as he shrugged on his vest, his slight wince not going unnoticed by you. You raised a questioning eyebrow at him for it, but he just made a dismissive sound, as per usual.

             “I'm making dinner tonight. And I just wanna spend time with you. Is that so bad, Hobes?” You'd said to him with a loving smile, hiding your true intentions for the night. Hobie had given you a look of suspicion before rolling his eyes playfully, agreeing to be back no later than six.

             This night had been planned in your mind for a while. You'd only decided to act on it when Hobie had come through the window earlier in the week, bruised and battered from a recent fight. He had just smiled and held you close as you pestered and pestered, begging him to let you fret over him, to care for him. But of course, Hobie hadn't let you, reassuring you over and over how he'd be fine in a matter of hours, never one to be down for long. And he was right. The next day, he'd been up and about again, his duties as Spider-Man ever calling. 

              For the last few days, Hobie has come back beaten and exhausted, weariness making a name for itself on his shoulders every night as he slumped into the bed. And for as much as he allowed himself to dote and worry about you, he absolutely refrained you from doing the same for him. Words like “Nothin’ to worry ‘bout, baby” and “Just being with you like this is all I need” are the chorus that greets you every time you try to soothe his pain. You like to chalk it up to the savior complex that you're most certain he has, even if he'd make a whole show of his disagreement if you ever told him as much.

                “He's not getting away from me this time”, you mumble to yourself with a determined huff, turning the faucet of the bathtub off. It was his turn to be taken care of, especially with the week he had. You were going to make sure of it. The sound of the front door opening has you perking up and quickly finishing with adding the essential oils to the warm bath water, mixing in the epsom salt as well before getting out of the bathroom. Grin on your face and eagerness shining in your eyes, you walk towards the living room to greet your boyfriend, wrapping your arms around him in a warm embrace once you near him. Hobie raises an eyebrow at the look on your face before smiling, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead, his lip piercing cool against your skin.

                 “Missed you too, lovie”, he chuckles softly, his voice soft as he wraps you in his arms. Just being in the warmth of his embrace is enough for you to wish you could stay like this for eternity. Fingers brushing lightly on his lower back and moving towards his waist, your eyes shoot open at his little hiss of pain. Quickly moving back, you clear your throat and gesture towards the kitchen, sticking to the plan for the night.

                “Dinner is ready and I've already drawn you a bath. Which one do you want first?”

               “You drew me a bath..? ‘M starting to think there's more to just you wantin’ to spend time with me, love.” Hobie says with a knowing smirk, eyebrow raised as he pulls you close once more, fingers idly hooking onto your belt loops. Smiling at how touchy he's being right now, you lean up to press a small kiss to his chin before gently patting his chest.

               “Correct. You've had it bad this week, don't even deny it. I'm taking care of you tonight and there's nothing you can do to stop me. Now, bath or dinner first? If you choose bath, there's a surprise right after it.” The last words being said in a singsong tune, you back away from him and look up at him expectantly. Hobie let's out a sigh at the determined gleam in your eyes, knowing full well how stubborn you can be when you set your mind on something. Besides, he really was much too tired to even try to dissuade you. Shrugging off his vest and draping it over his shoulder, he nods his head in the direction of the bathroom.

              “Suppose I'll go and take that bath, then. What's the surprise when I get out?”

             “You'll just have to see. I've already got a change of clothes for you on the sink”, you say with a pleased hum, watching as he makes his way towards the bathroom. “Oh! Make sure you leave your shirt off when you come into the bedroom!” Is what you call after him, making Hobie let out a playful scoff.

              “Yes ma’am”, he snickers with a small salute, disappearing into the bathroom. While he bathes, you rush to the bedroom and settle on the bed, gathering your lotions and massage oils. You play some soft music on your speaker and dim the lights, humming along to the music as you wait for him to finish. Hobie shuffles into the room a few moments later, towel wrapped around his neck and gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Your eyes linger for a few moments, appreciating the view greatly, only to glare up at your chuckling boyfriend.

            “Like what you see, hm? If you wanted to see me naked, you could've just asked”, Hobie hums out lowly, a knowing smile on his lips as he saunters over to you. Even in the dim light, you can see how tired he is, shoulders slumped and eyelids low with barely contained exhaustion. The bath, however, seems to have given him a little more pep though, Hobie's complexion looking a little bit brighter than before. It makes you smile, knowing he was at least a little relaxed now. 

             “Eh… Maybe later," you say with an amused chuckle, standing up and placing your hands on his shoulders. “On the bed, big man. Your surprise today is a massage from yours truly.” With a cheeky grin, you use your hands on his shoulders to turn him around before pushing him on the bed face first. Hobie lets out a small oof as he lands on the mattress, turning his head around to give you a playful glare.

             “Rude. What kinda masseuse are you, huh? Treatin’ your patient like this…” The man shakes his head in mock disappointment all while getting himself more comfortable on the bed, tucking his arms underneath the pillow beneath his head. “Have half a mind to report you to corporate…”

             “Oh, I'm so sorry, good sir. Forgive me for my earlier behavior, it'll never happen again”, you say with sarcastic enthusiasm as you lather a good amount of lavender body oil between your hands, warming it up. You carefully move to straddle his legs, knees on either side of his hips. “Let me know if it hurts, okay?” Is what you whisper in his ear as you gently place your hands on the back of his neck, fingers softly kneading at the tougher bundles of nerves there.

                 Hobie lets out a soft hum as you begin your work, body slowly relaxing with each stroke of your hands. His eyes flutter shut as you knead at his shoulders, your eyes watching his every reaction as you carefully press your fingers lower towards his back. As you knead at his upper back, you can feel the tense knot of nerves beneath his skin, making you frown a bit. Placing both hands onto his upper back, you take a deep breath and push down firmly. A loud popping crack is heard from the simple action, Hobie letting out a low groan as his body slumps down further into the mattress.

               “Fuckin’ hell…”, he breathes out as you chuckle softly, hands sliding further down his back and fingers pressing into the little divots. Your boyfriend is practically putty in your hands as your palms work to loosen the kinks in his lower back, soft sighs and little purrs of satisfaction leaving his lips. Fingers avoiding the small bruises on his waist, you gently run your knuckles just above the waistband of his sweatpants before quickly applying pressure. Another loud pop sounds out, Hobie burying his face into the pillows as sounds of utter relief leave him.

                “The hell you learn this from…? ‘S too good, lovie…”, he mumbles softly, voice practically purring. It makes you smile, pleased with yourself for having made your boyfriend this relaxed. You lean down to pepper his shoulder with sweet kisses before moving your hands up right to the middle of his back. Using your thumbs, you apply a bit more pressure, Hobie melting into the sheets. The massage goes on for a few more minutes and you watch as his breathing slowly evens out, body losing all tension and his small movements ceasing. 

             “Too tired to even eat, huh? What am I gonna do with you…?” You sigh as you lean back a bit to properly look at him. A huff leaves you as you listen to Hobie's soft snores, sleep having welcomed him with open arms. Using the towel next to his pillow, you wiped off any excess oil and placed another kiss on his cheek.

           “Goodnight, Hobie”, you whisper softly with a smile, sliding off the bed and standing up. You drape the blankets over him and leave the room to put the food away. You were glad that you had gotten the chance to properly care for him for once. And if the kisses and praise Hobie rained on you the next morning were anything to go by, so was he.

[cruel-hiraeth]

WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN ꒰ ajax tartaglia childe x reader ꒱

cw: a little angst, a little romance, a lot of ambiguity. wc: 777. notes: this is based on a prompt—childe x the last time you see each other, but only one of you is aware of the fact—suggested by my loveliest bitti @rabbbitseason and leigh @sugurei.

Snow flurries dot his lashes, kissing the freckles that dust his strawberry cheeks as he knocks on your door—nearly too short of breath for his dimpled smile to be convincing. While he knows the news (held it as a secret from you, one which putrefied and festered until it nearly rotted his organs), nothing could prepare him for this meeting.

The door creaks open. Behind it, your face is wan and drawn up, funerary. Once lively and headstrong, the sunny candlelight of your eyes—a balm that soothed his soul in foreign lands, an omniscient presence in his fondest memories—has been snuffed.

“I take it you’ve heard the news?”

For perhaps the first time in his life, Ajax doesn’t have a biting or witty remark; he simply stares at you for a beat too long, then nods. He wishes you would tease him, now, just like you used to. 

The scoff that leaves your lips is a comforting, familiar sound. Yet it’s ephemeral—over before he can appreciate it. He steps inside your room. 

A private dwelling on the Fatui base is sought-after, and your friend was able to pull some strings as a Harbinger to secure you your own space. Your quarters are exceedingly cramped, and have only the necessities: a standard cot, a wet bath, and a kitchen with a sink, a hot plate, and a narrow counter. There’s a table attached to a wall in the entryway—unusable during the lingering, frigid winters—accompanied by a pair of folding chairs. 

You treat him too formally, he thinks mirthfully, as you busy yourself brewing tea that he gifted you after a trip to Liyue. It’s your pride that keeps an appropriate amount of distance between your bodies, that firmly measures your tone, that keeps your heated glances brief. But it’s also your pride that drew him to you. 

(Ajax was never good at backing down from a challenge.)

Tears silently slip down your cheeks as you work with your back to him, swallowing any noise that threatens to bubble past your lips, though—unbeknownst to you—he understands what the telltale tremble of your shoulders means. With a delicate hand, you pour boiling water over the precious tea leaves and watch as they slowly bleed into liquid amber.

The quiet in your small home stretches uncomfortably thin. Words catch along the curve of your tongue and the tip of his; neither of you can vocalize your emotions. His boot taps against the floor, your fingers against the counter. 

When you serve Ajax his tea, his ultramarine stare pins you in place, unfurling your wings and your worries. He soaks in your watery gaze, and wishes (cruelly, selfishly) that he could revel in the beauty of your sorrow; perhaps he should—before it’s too late. But he can’t bring himself to hurt you further, no matter how desperately he wants to taste you, salt and spit and skin. 

“It’s just for a few years,” you reason aloud, absentmindedly worrying with the side of your porcelain cup—another gift from your companion. Your voice is thick with all that remains unsaid; it quavers.

“The Chasm is a treacherous place,” you say between sips of scalding tea that burns your tongue, “but I have faith in the Tsaritsa’s infinite wisdom. She will see to the safety of our expedition.”

No blade could cut through the tense air between you. Ajax clears his throat and musters a smile that feels like a lie. “It will be over before we know it.”

He reaches for your hand—palm upwards, welcoming—and you take it. The lambskin of his glove is soft, warm from the blood thrumming through his veins. You rest in silken stillness for a few moments, intertwined like that, chests rising and falling in unison. Then, he brings your hand to his lips, and brushes a kiss against your knuckles. It’s as brief and gentle as the flap of a crystalfly’s wings, yet the caress steals your breath—as does the flame-blue burn of his eyes. 

Before you can say anything (and before he does something he shouldn’t), he rises to his feet and grasps the doorknob. A rushed “I’ll miss you” is all he can utter before ripping the door open and slamming it shut.

Tsaritsa forgive me.

He repeats the words over and over like a mantra, tears blurring his vision, though the archon isn’t the one he should be asking for forgiveness; she’s not the one who is about to embark on a mission that’s as good as a death sentence. 

But you? 

Left to your fate, thoughts of what could have been prickle your flesh, steam curling up from the cup of Ajax’s untouched tea.

[divinehedons]

lost and found

pairing: soft dom!joel miller x f!reader

word count: ~4k

summary: your arrangement with joel miller is built on mutual trust. what happens when, in the throes of hedonism, he himself breaks that trust?

warnings: this is a dark, EXPLICIT fic, minors do not interact! no outbreak au, so many unrequited feelings, angsty angst angst angst, explicit p-in-v sex, dubious consent, use of a safeword, teeth-rotting aftercare and fluff, brief use of a sex toy, bath sex, brief depiction of make-up sex, somewhat (definitely) blasphemous and makes a mocking of religion (i'm not sorry :>>>>)

note: thank you very dearly for reading! please let me know what you think and what you see next; asks are very much welcome, reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

“See, this is why you need me, sweet girl. Because otherwise, who’s goin’ to make you feel this good?”

It was those words that follow you every day since you’ve begun such a tumultuous connection with the Texan contractor. Those words that stayed with you when you woke up from his tongue between your legs after the first night you fucked together. The words that stayed together when you made an arrangement. When you finally submitted to him.

You meet him in a shared apartment, in darkness, as well-put as could be from a day of work, kneeling with your wrists presented before you. By the end of the night, moments before he drops you off, he looks over your smeared lipstick, your neck littered with blood-red hickeys of his doing, wrists red. He'd look you over, then he'd smirk, waiting for you to turn back and wave goodbye. Only then will he have the last word. "See you next week, darlin'."

–

You met him at trivia night, glasses on, glass of whisky in hand, mere purveyor to the chaos you were causing. You, who he noticed to be naturally shy, sipping away at some colorful drink the weeks before, standing actively on your toes as you excitedly whisper the answer to a question. He saw, too, how happy you got, jumping on your feet when your little band of three pulls ahead in the game. But what caught his attention was how good you are. How you immediately sat down when your team asks you to, how you willingly go for drinks at the bar, not five feet from where he sat, emanating warmth from excitement.

You were so goddamn willing, he had to adjust himself once or twice, pictures of your submission burnt into the crevices of his brain. So when he had the chance, he had to take it.

“How did’ya know so much about the sixties, sugar?” he asked as you squeezed into the seat beside him, barely managing to steal it from the crowded bar. When you looked at him, he swore he almost saw your eyes gloss over from shyness. You just had to be adorable.

 “Oh! Well… I spent a lot of time with my grandparents.” You look down, fiddling with your drink before chuckling. “I didn’t know we were getting so much attention.” He swore he almost felt his cock twitch in his pants. Already, you were being so good, he physically had to swallow down the images of you happily bent over his desk with the rest of his whisky, throat burning be damned.

He realized, quite easily, that if he wanted you, he was going to have to be creative about it. And if he really wanted you, he had to put the effort in showing you he could be trusted; that he’ll take care of you. So he smiles, a calm smirk accompanying his salt-and-pepper beard, the warm crinkles in his eyes as he stills himself. He takes a deep breath, and it becomes so easy.

The night ends with you pressed against the door of your apartment, panties pushed to the side as he breathes whiskey into your face while you chuckle nervously. “D’you want it, sugar? C’mon, I need some words…” He almost wished he could take a photo of your face the moment he spears you open with his aching cock, cunt already fucked out by his fingers during the feverish truck drive where you almost get him lost from hazy directions.

He teaches you your safe words that night. An analogy of stoplights– halting reds, questioning yellows, and bright green gos.

He constantly checks in, and all you tell him is to go, go, go.

–

He likes it when you call him sir, a remnant of his Southern manners. Your cheeks warm up whenever you say it. He noticed when he had begun to cup your face, asking you to tell him what you wanted.

Just you, sir. All you, please…

He’s so indulgent about it, so eager to give you the pleasure you so desperately wanted without saying anything. But sometimes, that primal urge to own you manifests itself, as well. He particularly enjoyed the act of overstimulation. Just the sight of you, cockdumb and broken, limbs trembling from the way he manipulated the pleasure from your body… how could he ever resist? It’s why he was so willing to split an apartment with you; one meant for your excursions and hedonistic urges; the house of desire itself with a king-sized bed and a hot tub to defile.

You were chaos and innocence all in one, sweet like honey and sudden like the weather. Incomprehensible, unique you. Simply put, he enjoyed you. And the fact that you belonged to him will never stop getting him hard just from the mere thought of it. He started thinking he finally understood what it meant to be enthralled by someone. When you open your mouth wide, tongue extended and waiting for any shred of him to swallow, when you lay on his chest post-coitus with the sated nature of a feral cat, when he sees your perfect lipstick, waiting to be ruined by kisses.

Of course he’s insatiable. He will always keep wanting more. Perhaps it was that insatiability that led to that storming night.

–

He should’ve noticed when he opened the door and you were looking out of the window, eerily quiet, with the weight of the world on your shoulders. He drops the keys on the dining table, crossing his way to you, hands wrapping around your waist as he kisses your exposed shoulder teasingly. 

“Let me take your mind off of it, darlin’,” he whispers, and you feign a giggle at the way his beard prickles your skin. “Had a tough day, didn’t ya?” You look to him as if you were about to confess something, say something and break your usual submissive silence. But you catch his eye and you melt further into his touch instead as you sigh softly.

“Just missed you a little too much, sir…”

It satisfies him. It feeds his ego. But just in case… “Give me a colour, pretty baby. S’alright…”

You gulp, feeling your fingers turn cold as you process your thoughts. With a sigh, you press a kiss to his jaw.

“Green, sir.”

The word barely leaves your lips before he’s kissing you, swallowing down your soft whimpers as his strong arms take you, carrying you to the bedroom with renewed urge and desire. Settling you down on fresh sheets, he peers over your pretty little sundress, your perfect little face, chuckling at the shyness washing over you in the low lamplight. He kisses you again, insatiable hands tearing open your dress as your breath hitches, He does not stop, pressing wanton kisses down your collarbone, your breast, your stomach, spreading your legs so he can settle right between them.

“Y’wanna tell me why you weren’t answering my calls, darlin’?”

You try not imagine the panic you must have caused him for that very reason. The fact that you left him a message at three in the afternoon, I need to see you, sir. Only to have your phone switched off. There is probably a barrage of messages and missed calls. But seeing you here, he finally seems to settle. He seems to ignore your creased forehead, your shaky breaths.

“My phone died… I- I’m sorry…” He shushes you, kissing you again and running his thumb over your painted lips with a smile. “I just missed you, sir.”

You notice his eyes darkening, hands traveling down the expanse of your stomach, embracing and caressing each curve before his right hand completely cups your wanton cunt, willing and warm to the touch. “I think I can do somethin’ about that.” He pushes your underwear aside, two fingers delving into the soft, sticky warmth of your desire, spreading you open just for him. He periodically asks for your status, a colour to confirm your consent. You see it as a way of him asking if he could do the things he was already doing.

Green for the fingers already spreading you open. Green to take off the dress he had already torn off. Green to mark up the neck that already bore the wetness of his saliva.

“How was trivia night last night, sugar? I couldn’t get out of work soon enough to catch you there…” You manage a soft chuckle, now embracing him with a breathy kiss. “Although, I believe I heard from Clark that you did well enough, no?”

Your soft giggles melt against the skin of his jaw, your shaky breaths stuttering as you hear the clink of his belt buckle and the shuffling of his jeans. “Good old nineties, sir,” you murmur. “Your playlist was sufficient enough of a reviewer to carry me through.” It’s his turn to chuckle, cupping your face and peering down at you as he affectionately pinches the apple of your cheek with a sigh.

“One more ‘old man’ quip out of you and you’ll be askin’ for a punishment, li’l girl.”

You manage a soft smile. You like it when he cares. You like him like this. But just as easily as it came, the softness soon disappears as he returns to working the clothes off of your body, looking over the way your skin is void of the markings he left the last time he had you. You try to comprehend the secrets between his furrowed brow, the mutterings you try to hear in the semi-darkness. He always had a way of keeping that same professional barrier between the two of you, a barrier that you never know where it truly stood. A barrier of multiple dimensions. A barrier that was the sole purpose why you never confessed you stopped dating ever since he came into your life.

You remember the time you almost did. You had called him one evening, dressed up in the same apartment, bottle of wine chilled, rose petals all over the sheets. You told him you wanted to see him. You didn’t expect the ease that came with his rebuttal. Can’t tonight, darlin’, I have a lady friend keepin’ me company. How ‘bout Friday? You pretend, as you find yourself doing more and more often. You tell him to have a nice evening. You drink an entire bottle of wine by yourself. You dispose of the rose petals and ensure you left no traces by morning.

Looking at him now, he still remains cool, professional, boundaries locked and loaded between your bodies even when he presses the bulbous tip of a vibrator directly over where you need him most, firing it up the moment you said green. He told you once he loved the way you squealed for him, that it makes his chest bubble with incomprehensible glee knowing he could drive such noises from you, that shy little vixen that knelt for him when he said the word and opened her mouth wide. Maybe that’s why he always enjoyed pushing you to your limits.

Maybe that’s what he wanted to do now.

And you had to admit, you were willing to let him try.

The vibration jostles through your flesh, shaking awake your tendons. The initial shock sent your legs flailing, spreading, and eventually welcoming the affection. “That’s it… let me in, baby…”

Your cries emanate as the shock of the first orgasm shakes through your completely naked body, brushing against the course fabric of his jeans, his small snicker leaving him before he could stop it. “‘Course you’re so easy, pretty lady.” You feel your cheeks warm up at his words, looking into his eyes as he raises a brow, as if waiting for you to give him his dues.

It’s when you return to yourself, blinking away the haze in your head as you tilt your head back. “Thank you, sir… oh, oh– thank you!” When you look back, you see him through the mist in your vision, see that slow, cocky smirk encompassing his features. He likes this. He likes the way you’re absolutely fucked out like this.

The buzzing stops, and you blink awake shakily up at him. He leans down to kiss you gently, sighing as you come down from your orgasmic bliss. “How are we feelin’, baby doll?”

You grin up at him. Green, green, green.

He looks down at you, with that shit-eating grin on your face that you always have when you’re brimming with excitement and ready to burst. He tries to read your eyes just as you grow shy, turning over to embrace the pillow you lay on. What should he do when the prettiest girl in the world says “green” so voraciously?

There was only one answer. He can only go, go, go.

–

Joel Miller rarely calls anything heaven. He rarely finds anything that is so divine that he can surrender so easily in worship. And if he does, it’s even rarer that he is driven by anything so much as to take divinity into his own hands. But with you… he swore he finally saw the face of God. And it was dangerous. It was dangerous because it had awakened an arcane starvation that almost harkens back to his own primordial longings.

You tell him green, but if he was capable of confession, if he was more vulnerable to you… he’d confess that he’d gone blind, his senses dulled and only drawn to one thing and one thing only: and it was to take and take from you.

That was why he fucks you wide open with his cock, your walls trembling with the first sign of overstimulation. He sees the first sign of your hesitation and he barely stops himself to look you in the eye to say your status. You barely manage to tell him green, with a tone of hesitation, and he immediately pummels his hardness into your aching cunt, embracing you in his tense arms, growling into your ear as you feel his lips sucking a brand new hickey at the very crook of your neck. 

If he was confessing, he would say all he saw was the red of his blood pumping through his brain. It is only a few seconds later that he finally hears that shy, trembling voice of yours, echoing like a hysterical cry that tears through his defences. It is the words you had never uttered in these moments before now.

“Red, red, red!”

Immediately, Joel flies apart from you like shrapnel, blinking his eyes open just in time to see your grief-stricken face, splotchy from tears as you curl up in the upper middle of the large bed. From here, he finally sees the aftermath of his mindless fucking. His fingertips marking your skin, lovebite blood red and raging just as you peer up at him with eyes lit up with an emotion he had never seen before. You had never stared at him with that much fear before.

He attempts to reach for you, only to be frozen in his tracks the moment you flinched further upwards against the mattress. His blood runs cold when he hears your words. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sir–”

Had he been that absolutely careless over you— precious, darling you that entrusted herself so fully to him? Had he been that selfish, so enthralled by the callings of his own flesh? This is the price he had to pay for tasting divinity— he just had to ruin you for it. He slowly recedes, heart thumping in his chest as he tucks himself back into his pants, keeping his hands visible for you, your watchful eyes never blinking away from you.

“It’s alright, darlin’. It’s alright. We’ve stopped.” Gently, he helps, carefully handing you a dressing robe to regain some form of second skin. He ascertains that his bare hands does not brush against you, not unless you ask him to. Not unless you wanted it. He did not deserve such a privilege, not after what he’s done. Not after how he broke your trust.

He shakes away the thoughts and self-doubt from the recesses of his brain. You do not need his remorse. What you needed was to be taken care of. What you needed was him to fulfill the role he had promised you from the very start of your… partnership. Whatever it was you had. The minutes pass in the silence. The apartment is silent, except for your shaky breaths as he waits for you to calm down.

“Sugar…” your bright doe eyes look to him, reddened slightly by tears before softening, your hands slowly moving to reach for him. He stops himself. “What do you want me to do, doll?”

You finally find the voice to speak again. “Just hold me… please.” Joel gently settles by your side, embracing you as you hide your face into his bare chest. With how close you press yourself to him, you feel the pounding of his chest. You feel your skin prickle, looking up into his eyes in soft, comfortable silence. “It’s like you couldn’t see me anymore when… when…”

He hears your breath hitch and he gently shushes you, carefully pressing kisses to the crown of your head. “Why did you apologize, sugar?”

It's difficult to comprehend feelings in an agreement that is supposedly devoid of them. It's difficult to reflect when you think you know every possibility when you say the truth and nothing but the truth. But you know, too, that you cannot solve the breaking of one’s trust, yours in this case, with the breaking of others’ trust. So you swallow, gather your thoughts.

“You’ve… you always made it feel like it’s my… my privilege to feel so good and… and…” you sniffle, burying your face against him once more as you sigh. “I feel guilty for… for having to—asking to—stop.” You feel his breath still, and you tug him closer out of guilt. It’s as if the motion gently shakes him awake and he embraces you, pressing careful kisses where he was able to.

“That was never my intention, darlin’...” He gently maneuvers you, just enough so you had to look into his eyes— those soft, warm eyes that looked at you the night you met in the bar. “I should be sorry, and I am. God, doll… we built this… us… we built it on the idea that we entrust each other with our… vulnerabilities, and that those vulnerabilities aren’t exploited.” He cups your face, the way he always does, but his touch his careful, the way one grasps precious. “You trusted me, sugar, and I’ve been reckless with my pretty girl. I’m so sorry.”

He barely finishes the last word before you’re kissing him, arms wrapping around him in comfortable silence as he cradles you, lets you indulge until you are the first to pull away. “Let me make it up to you, yeah?” he whispers, the prickle of his beard against your jaw enough to make you giggle. “How does a bath sound?” You manage a small nod, winding down from the events of the evening as he cradles you, gently bringing you to the bathroom and seating you on the nearest counter as he leans over to prepare the warm bath, head turned away from you with a sigh.

The confession lays heavy on your lips. The confession that you’re falling for him, eyes closed, no turning back. You’re in love with him, but you think in telling him, you risk losing this… having him in the soft silences where you can be vulnerable for him and only for him. You tell him, and you picture the nights alone, guarding yourself and knowing happiness shall not exist anymore for you. Not in this lifetime.

“Do you want me to give you some privacy?”

You look to him in silence before taking a deep breath, shaking your head before biting your lip. “Stay with me,” you whisper, looking down at your feet as he settles before you. “Please don’t go too far from me.”

It’s how the two of you end up, with you on his lap, the warm water encompassing the two of you as  gently scrubs through your back with slow, careful circles. “Promise me something,” he says, breaking the silence as he carefully pulls you closer to him. “Never ever think you cannot say no to me ever again.” Your head rears to look into his eyes and he couldn’t help but chuckle, kissing your cheek lovingly. “I’d rather have your scorn than seein’ you afraid of me, darlin’.”

You promise him. As if you would deprive him of anything ever again. As if you could bear the way you saw his heart break from your reaction earlier that evening. As if you could bear the sight of him pulling away from you ever again. If it meant keeping him this close to you for some time more—be it a day, another evening, another month, another year—you’d take everything you can.

The both of you make up shortly thereafter. Joel is half-surprised to see you crawling on top of him, facing him as you ask him. He groans at the feel of your nails digging down into the back of his neck as you fuck yourself on him. He lets you take what you want. As if he can deprive you of anything, be it affection or debauchery. He takes you by your word when you ask him to take you to bed— and he makes love to you in the darkness.

You are his God and all the Saints in the body of one mortal. Daisies and thunderstorms and metamorphoses combined. He looks for you in the other people he meets. But they do not have your shyness, your bright smile, nor the complete surrender you offer so willingly to him. He wonders, sometimes, in the darkness, if he will ever find it within himself to cross the boundaries he himself had built. So he tells you he loves you in other ways. When he cradles your face, when he wipes you clean post-coitus, showering your skin with kisses. When he embraces you in his arms when you drift to sleep with a wide, warm smile of peace etched on your face. He whispers it, sometimes, when he kisses your forehead before he leaves, dressed in his clothes from last night.

He’ll rather have you like this. If, by some twist of fate, he loses the presence of your divinity, then he shall forever return to this moment— you on your hands and knees with your back arching into his touch, your warm breath, your trembling breast. Perhaps an eternity, locked together this way, is the closest to heaven he will ever come across. And should he face damnation, flailed and torn apart by hail at the second circle of hell, he shall regret nothing. Should he be offered salvation in exchange of forgetting you, he shall spit at the face of God with a smile. He’d tell Him he’ll do it all over again.

---

A/N: this is the part where i say sorry for letting my current reads and whatnot influence what i'm writing. but this is also your sign to read the divine comedy if you want to :'DDD thank you so so so much for reading!!

[milkywaygalaxygurl]

Comfort - Peeta Mellark

Purely self indulgent fic, I’m not doing the best right now and I wish I just had Peeta here to give me a hug :( sorry if there’s any typos or anything! fyi, i will take requests! i write for a lot of different characters so just ask if i will and i might! i don’t really have any restrictions on what i’ll write about minus smut:)

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Female!Reader

Warnings: maybe OOC!Peeta?, mentions of trauma but no description, pure fluff, idk if there’s anything else lmk if i missed anything

Word Count: 600(?)

Like I said, purely self indulgent. (Y/N) is sad and Peeta is a Sad Baby™ himself and understands how to comfort (Y/N) because of it.

Peeta could tell you were upset the second he laid eyes on you. Your smile when greeting him wasn’t as bright as it usually was and you seemed distracted, like you weren’t really present, when Peeta began talking about his day. He always seemed to pick up on your moods, even when you tried hiding the fact that you’re upset from him. Dealing with his own traumas and bad days had caused him to be able to spot yours in seconds.

“(Y/N)?” He says your name softly, so as to not startle you, and smiles softly when you turn to look at him. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, tilting his head as he studies your features.

“Are you doing alright, my love?” His voice is soft, so gentle, and it causes the dam to break. Tears begin to slide down your cheeks as you shake your head, a sob racking your body. Peeta gathers you up in his arms and pulls you into his lap, holding you tight against his body.

“It’s alright, it’s okay, I’m here.” He kisses the side of your head, one of his hands rubbing up and down your back while he rocks you slightly. He feels his heart tighten as another sob falls from your lips, his hold on you tightening.

“If you’re feeling up to it, we can talk about what’s bothering you. Don’t force yourself to if you don’t want to, okay? We can always talk about it later.” Peeta pulls you away from his body so he can see your face and smiles softly at you, wiping the tears off your cheeks. You smile weakly at him, trying to convey to him that you were grateful for his comfort.

“I-I think I j-just need to c-cry.” Peeta nods his head in understanding, kissing your forehead. He pulls you into him again, whispering sweet nothings and comforting words in your ear. Your sobs eventually subside, but tears still fall from your eyes as you hold tightly to Peeta. He doesn’t let you leave his arms until you’re no longer crying, but even then he doesn’t stop taking care of you. He draws you a warm bath with scented bath salts, ones he knows help calm you down. Once you’re seated in the bath, he whispers about anything that comes to mind to distract you from the bad thoughts as he washes your hair. After the bath, he helps you into the clothes you always prefer when having a rough day.

“Thank you.” You whisper to him when you’re settled in bed, your head tucked into his chest and his arms around you. One of the things you loved most about Peeta was his ability to be so kind, so loving, without even thinking about it. It was just in his nature to be that way and it made you fall head over heels for him the first time you witnessed it.

“Of course, my love.” His whispered reply makes you pull back from his chest to look up at him, pure adoration and love in your eyes for this puppy dog of a man you called your boyfriend.

“I love you.” You whisper, your lips split into a lovesick grin. His smile mirrors your own as he pulls you into a gentle kiss, trying to put all his love into the gesture.

“I love you more than you could ever know.” His murmured reply is all you hear before you’re slipping off into a much needed rest.

[cressidagrey]

Indelible Scars - Chapter 10

Summary:

Azriel knew pain. So did Galena.

Also known as: Azriel’s mate is a healer and the first time they meet, he nearly dies on her.

Warnings:

Irresponsible use of Sleeping Potions, kinda depressing

(thanks to @cafekitsune for the super pretty dividers!)

It seemed that Azriel finally got his wishes. For once. 

He slipped away into a world of grey fog.

He couldn’t find it in himself to fight against the weight that threatened to pull him under, the pain in his chest that made it difficult to breathe…

The fog was there, surrounding him, until he could see nothing, be nothing, feel nothing. 

It was…

Weak wisps of memories came through him…the feeling of falling when he had just wanted to make his way back from the bathing chamber to the bed…how his head had hit the edge of his desk…Cassian’s worried face somehow floated in front of him, with no body that belonged to it…

Cassian…Cassian’s warm, broad hands that promised safety. 

“You really got in there,” Cassian said, hand cupping his face…“You’ll need stitches…it’s bleeding.” He looked so worried. He shouldn’t be. 

“It ‘s fine,” Azriel tried to assure him, the words not wanting to leave his mouth…so tired. So tired…he wanted to go back to the fog. 

“You are not.” Cassian disagreed, wiping at his face. Not? No, he wasn’t fine. But it didn’t matter. It was… he deserved it. He deserved all the pain he got…even when he was a fool and couldn’t stand it...

“No, you fucking don’t,” Cassian snapped at him. Had he said that out loud? 

He was so tired…so tired. 

“Don’t go to sleep, Az. We want you to wake up again,” Cassian said, sharpness in his voice. He didn’t want Cassian to snap at him. 

It didn’t matter if he didn’t wake up again. Why should it matter? 

“Why?” he asked, despair and heaviness settling onto him like a thick blanket, every blink of his eyes taking effort that he didn’t want to put in there anymore. 

He was just so…

“Why I don’t want you to fucking die?” Cassian asked him, sounding incredulous. Why did he ask that question? 

It was clear. It didn’t matter…

“You have Nesta,” he told Cassian. Cassian had a mate. Nesta was there. He didn’t need Azriel. If Azriel wasn’t there anymore, Cassian would survive. And that was fine. That…“I want to sleep. Don’t want to wake up.” 

And he let go of every grasp he had on his awareness because it didn’t matter. 

He soaked up the grey fog, nothing reaching him…no spark…pain in his chest and the rattling of his breathing…the coughing…

“You’re alright. It’s alright, Az.”

Cassian. 

Still there. He should just leave him alone…Just alone…he shouldn’t worry…Azriel didn’t matter…

“Madja?” In an out he floated, eyebrows furrowing at…Mor. 

It was Mor. 

She sounded worried. 

He remembered a time where only that…only the thought of Mor being worried about him would have made his whole week. Maybe even month…when he had trailed after her like a lovesick puppy…

He didn’t want her worried now. She didn’t need to be worried…she could be worried over Emerie…She didn’t need him either….

He was swept away again, feeling magic push against him…something cooling and crisp…Madja…Caramel and Salt clinging to him…Something else…he had never smelt that. It was warm and spicy, like cinnamon and oranges…warm and caring and he recoiled…It was supposed to be warm and caring but he couldn’t…he couldn’t stand it…

And then…then…suddenly…

Peppermint and Ice and forest wafted over him and everything was well. Home. He was home. 

He wanted that magic surrounding him…he wanted…he wanted it. So good. So gentle. So caring, so…

Peppermint and Ice and…Oh…

Breathing became so much easier, once that magic appeared…seemingly stroking his, making him relax and he did, because whoever it belonged to they were good . Good and kind and gentle….And Azriel collapsed into that and let them do to him as they wished. 

Whoever it was…they didn’t want to hurt him…

He strained to hear them…a female voice, quiet and even…

And…somehow…somehow that voice sounded like home. 

Home…It was such a weird idea, wasn’t it? He never really had a home…had no house that he considered to be home. considered to be a place that was his above all else. His home. Home…

He had never thought he would have it either. 

But that voice was a siren’s call to him…Safe and Sound and Home…

And then suddenly, the magic that had once been hesitant, gentle, stroking, became…more. Became invasive in a way he didn’t want it to be, because it saw too much and he didn’t want it to see how broken he was, how ripped apart, didn’t want it to see the utter wasteland that was his soul, didn’t want it to see what… 

His magic moved to strike out again the ice and the peppermint and then…then suddenly, something in him…something deep inside him snapped. 

Flooding him with icy brightness, silver and beautiful…it…

Between one blink and the next, everything changed. 

The very foundation of his being was altered, as his worldview got rearranged, as all he was starting to care about became her…became the female who belonged to this ice and peppermint, a cold winter’s day in the Illyrian steppes…

Home. She was home. 

The only home he had ever known. 

He gave in. 

With one snap, he gave in to her magic, to her, letting her shoulder the brunt of hsi magic, letting her magic cradle his, because all he wanted to be was to be surrounded by her, was to be with her, was…to protect her. 

Half a thought and he send his shadows out, send them to be with her, because he couldn’t, because he was too weak, too tired, too exhausted for her but…but they could be there… 

Go , he ordered them and they listened. 

They would take care of her…

The grey fog only seemed inviting now, because it was her magic that filled it. 

And he didn’t want to leave…not even when he could feel the touch on his mind, night-tipped claws sliding against his walls…he knew them. 

Rhys. 

But he didn’t…not right now…not when peppermint and ice was there, and then suddenly, it was…He could hear screaming, but not the words, never the words, but that was enough for the sudden anxiety to rise in his chest. What was happening, what was…

And then her voice.“Out, both of you!” Sharp like a whip crack. And still…still so perfect. Still… so beautiful…

He relaxed. She took care of it…of him…of everything…The magic thickened…He slipped away, once more for the umpteenth time…

Night-tipped claws raised against his walls, but he was too tired to react to Rhys’ mental touch…

Too tired to do anything but be swept up by the fog once more and be pulled deeper and deeper into darkness, into a void…

Until that iciness grasped him and dragged him back towards her with single-minded determination, not even giving him a choice on that matter. 

Well, who was he to fight her? 

Who was he to fight whoever she was, smelling of ice and peppermint, her magic ice cold and still welcoming…like…like a long lost part of him had finally been found and was welcoming him in…

Awareness came back to him slowly, the feeling of sweat trickling down his temple…of hands on his face, the skin uneven with scars…more smell of icy winters and a soft touch on his throat…something poured into his mouth and he swallowed reflexively. 

More sweat, more heat…but it seemingly left his body, slowly leeching out of him with every breath he took. Every breath felt better, more free…less heaviness in his chest…

“His fever broke.”  That voice. 

A touch on his shoulder, but it was the one at his ribcage that nearly did him in, more cooling magic wafting over him, wrapping around him and wrapping him around her little finger.

“Put him in the bath. Wash of the sweat…And don’t let him drown,”  the voice said quietly. 

That sounded nice. As long as she didn’t go away. As long until…he tried to move, tried to turn his head towards her voice…

“Az?” Cassian said, hand still on his shoulder. “You’re alright. Your fever broke…” He didn’t care about the fever. He cared about her voice! “What’s he thinking, Rhys?”  Cassian asked. 

*Welcome back to the living, Brother,* Rhys said mentally, carefully slithering into his brain and Az weakly batted at him in response.

“Is he in pain?” That voice. He didn’t care about anything but that voice. About her. He needed…he needed…

*You’re alright,* Rhys promised him gently.  *You gave us quite the scare, however.*

“No, he’s not,” Rhys cleared his throat as he answered. “He isn’t in any pain.”

“That’s good.” 

He made another noise low in his throat, wanting to get his eyes open to look at her, but they didn’t listen to him. seemingly none of his limbs listened to him.  

“Come on, Az…we’ll get you in a bath,” Rhys said quietly. 

Between Cassian and Rhys, Azriel was dragged into the bathing chamber, the sound of water hitting the tub…Any amount of caring about nudity had been stripped out of them by the time they had just been grappling younglings, and so he let Cassian strip him out of his sweat-damp clothing…and then finally, he was submerged in warm water and he really didn’t care about anything else anymore. 

“Don’t you ever dare to do anything like that again,” Cassian told him, his voice dark, as broad hands started scrubbing his arms. 

He tried to make some noise, but the only thing he managed was one of his wings weakly twitching, splashing water all over Cassian. 

“Careful,” Cassian warned him, warmth in his voice as he very gently pushed Azriel’s wing back and he remembered how to snap them closed somehow…warm hands carefully ran through his hair at that moment, fingertips pressing against his scalp…

“Cassian is right,” Rhys said softly, aloud for the benefit of Cassian more than him. “You kept us terrified for a few days, Az.”

They had worried? 

“Of course, we worried,” Rhys said sharply, gently tugging at his hair to punctuate his point. “You aren’t replaceable , Az.”

But he was…He was replaceable. Still… *Just a cold.* he mumbled in his brain, knowing that Rhys would pick up on it. 

“No, it wasn’t just a cold. You had an infection in your lungs, Az,” Rhys disagreed. “And they needed to open up your chest to get out a splinter of that Ash Bolt from Hybern as well. You had fucking faebane in your system.”

Oh. 

He hadn’t known that. Maybe that’s why he had felt that bad over the last few weeks…

“You’ll make a full recovery, but we didn’t know that at first,” Rhys continued softly.

He had spies to check in with, reports to read…it would all have piled up and Rhys would expect...

“Oh Az…You’ll take as much time as you need,”  Rhys assured him. “Everything is running smoothly. Nothing to worry about. Cassian sat with you the whole time.”

He hadn’t needed to do that. But still, warmth blossomed in Azriel’s chest at these words. 

*Mother Hen,* he thought warmly and gladly.

Rhys laughed softly. “He called you a mother hen,” he told Cassian amusedly. 

“Rhys did too,” Cassian agreed, his voice sharp. “But I didn’t fucking care when I thought you were going to stop breathing or hack up your lungs.” 

Oh. His brain still felt like mush but he didn’t want to be the reason for that note of pain in Cassian’s voice, even when he sighed, softening nearly imperceptively. “I don’t have so many brothers that I could afford to lose one,” Cassian said tightly. “So you are stuck with us, Az. I’ll get you something to wear, alright?”

Huh.

he wanted to say something, but the tongue in his mouth felt so thick and heavy that he didn’t…and all his worries were slowly growing hazy around the edges like something had taken off the blunt of it all…It was…

“I am sorry,” Rhys said at that moment, his voice quiet. “We’ll talk about it when you are feeling more like yourself, alright?”

Sorry about what? 

Azriel didn’t feel like Rhys had anything to be sorry for…if he could just stay right here in that bathtub for the rest of his long and immortal life…he would be so content…

“I think that’s the mirthroot talking, Az,” Rhys said with a snort.

What? Mirthroot? He hadn’t smoked mirthroot lately, had he? Hadn’t in…centuries. Oh, centuries…he was starting to even slur his thoughts…and he couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

“In the pain potion. You got some Mirthroot in there,” Rhys explained patiently, still running his hands through his hair. 

He should never stop doing that…Azriel really liked that…

Rhys snorted in amusement but did as requested and Azriel leaned back into the touch… “We’ll talk when you aren’t high on Mirthroot,” Rhys repeated warmly.

“Is he okay?” Cassian asked, or maybe Cassian's disembodied voice asked, because Azriel still couldn’t feel his eyes…He still had them, right?”

*You do, I promise.*

Oh good. That would suck. 

“ Really enjoying that mirthroot,” Rhys said, sounding like he was biting back a laugh.

Yeah, he did. Rhys was just jealous that he didn’t get to have any… 

“Good for him,” Cassian agreed with a snort as he helped Rhys get him out of the bath. Azriel grumbled in protest, even as they wrapped him in towels. “Enjoy that potion while it lasts, Az. You are not getting a single Sleep Potion for the next few decades.”

What?

His mind was sluggish because otherwise there would be shame pouring all from him, but like that, his eyebrows furrowed and he didn’t understand. 

“We found your little stash,” Cassian said quietly as he wrestled him into a pair of linen pants. “Your shadows said that you couldn’t sleep. We’ll talk about that as well. Later. When you have slept. When you feel better. Then we are going to talk, alright?” Cassian promised him. 

Huh. 

Alright. They could talk…later…when…

Shadows…where were his shadows….

We’re here, Master. 

Good. 

Shadows were there. something rubbed at the edges of his brain and he searched for that smell of ice and peppermint, without thought. 

She’s here, Master. 

She was there? The voice?

“What’s he thinking?” Cassian asked. 

“He wants to get to that voice,” Rhys said, warmth in his voice. 

“What voice?” Cassian wondered and then, “Ohhhhhh. Come on then, Az. We’ll get you to your voice.”

His voice? How was it his voice? 

It wasn't his voice. His voice sounded different. 

And then…seconds later…“Is he conscious?” His wings flared in response to her, some deep buried instincts, of preening for an available female to show her that he was strong and tall and a good provider and could give her strong children.

Her voice…her cauldron-damned voice was going to…

“Spaced out like whoa,” Cassian said at that moment, dumping him on that bed and Azriel wanted to protest, but his body didn’t want to listen to that voice. 

That voice. Home. 

“Probably thanks to the Pain Potion I gave him.” She laughed. 

It was the most beautiful sound he ever had heard in his long life. He caught another whiff of her scent, of perfect winter and ice and peppermint and freshness and…

He wanted to bath in that scent. Wanted to roll around in it and absolutely cover himself in her. 

A blanket was tucked over his chest, a hand brushing over his naked skin…it felt like magic was dancing over every one of his nerves ending, everything tingling…and suddenly his eyes were listening to him…and he could see her. 

There she was…everything was hazy around her, and she glowed silver and she was…

Everything had changed at the feel of her magic and the sound of her voice…and now it suddenly seemed to snap in place. 

He moved on instinct when his hand wrapped around one fragile little wrist…around skin that…skin that looked just like his…oh. 

Every inch of his body seemingly sang. 

His. Hers. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. 

MATE. 

“Mate,” he breathed, staring at her hand and then looking up at her, lights seemingly dancing around her…

Oh, she was glorious. 

Ice and Winter and Peppermint and Magic and Healing and His. His. Mate. 

Mate. 

Mate. His Mate. 

His mate with scars like his? 

He blinked again, staring at her face…at the scars that stretched up…not just over her hands and wrists and arms…but her face…stretching the skiing taught…one corner of full lips pulled down…Scars. 

Somebody had hurt her? Who had hurt her? 

He was going to find out. 

Soon. As soon as…

As soon as he could think again…But now…

Glorious, she was. 

She stared at him, one eye grey and milky and…and the other big and brown and beautiful and shocked…he could smell her shock…shock. 

Shock, but no fear. 

“Stay,” he got out. he wanted to say more but the words didn’t work…nothing worked…But she was his. His. His. 

His to protect…His.

One wing flared out, wrapping around her sitting at his bedside. 

“Come on Az, don’t hit the poor girl with your wing,” Cassian said with a laugh. 

He growled. “Mine.” Wrapping the wing tighter around her. His. 

“ Stay ,” he repeated. He could feel consciousness leaving him again, and still held on tight to it, clinging to her. 

Her hand pulled itself out of his grip and he whimpered from the loss, but then she took his hand in hers. “I’ll stay,” she whispered, the most beautiful words he had ever heard. “I’ll stay. You sleep.”

Sleep. 

He could sleep. If it pleased her, he would sleep...he would do anything she wanted. As long as she was never leaving him. 

[luvhughes43]

soothe | trevor zegras x reader

luvhughes43 masterlist🌷

request: “please just let me take care of you” & “you’re lucky you’re cute” w/ trev!!!

word count: 0.5K

Trevor always felt guilty when he left you home alone when he was gone on roadies. which is why he always insisted on doing everything for you when he was home.

“Trev, you don’t have to run me a bath,” you laughed as your adorable boyfriend was grabbing the jars of epson salts and bath bombs from the bathroom closet.

“no, you deserve to relax! you’ve been working really hard this week” he said as he set his armful of products on the counter. 

he ran the bath water, occasionally dipping his hand in the tub to check its temperature. 

“you really don’t have to do all this. my week wasn’t that stressful, i was just missing you” you softly ran a hand through your boyfriend's hair as you spoke, causing him to look up at you.

“please just let me take care of you” Trevor practically pleaded and you removed your hand that was playing with the hair at the back of his neck.

“fine. you're lucky you're cute” you smiled at Trevor and he goofily smiled back. when he looked at you this way, so full of love and adoration, you understood why your friends were wishing someone looked at the same way. you couldn't believe how in love you were. 

Trevor poured the epson salts in the bath and told you to get it. you got into the warm tub, and waited idly while Trevor ran out of the bathroom to get you something he swore you needed.

two minutes later he came back into the room with a hot cup of your favourite tea. 

“where are you going?” you laughed as Trevor made his way to leave the bathroom once again.

“i’m going to go get your book so you can read it in the bath! I’ve heard it's really relaxing, and i know you've been trying to finish it, and-” 

“i don't want my book,” you interrupted Trevors speech and he frowned.

“oh… well i could get you something else?” your loving boyfriend asked and you just laughed. 

“all i want is you. come here,” you beckoned Trevor over and begged him to get into the tub with you.

“you’re supposed to be relaxing!” Trevor exclaimed as he stripped out of his shirt.

“yeah but i haven't seen you in a week!” you defended your point, watching as Trevor undressed and got himself settled into the tub with you. his height made it difficult for you to both fit in there comfortably, but you didn’t mind. 

you sat with your back to Trevors chest, his arms wrapped loosely around you.

“thank you baby,” you whispered lightly as the warm water and salts soothed you.

“of course. i love you” Trevor whispered back, leaning his head to the side so he could kiss you on the check.

“i love you too,” you whispered once again, turning your head to kiss him softly on the lips before relaxing back into his hold.

[gamblersdoll]

Boxer Guts' massage expert keeps teasing him I mean she touches him there while massaging him and she always wears short tight skirts that cling to her perfect hips and other things like that but she always pretends to be innocent so Guts teaches her a lesson

nsfw 🤠

“you need to take this easy, guts.” you softly spoke, helping him wrap his his hands. he had a match in a few minutes, but you decided to strike now. you softly caress his knuckles, insinuating how big they are, well, he is a big man.

“thanks, tiny.” he gruffs, but you know he means well.

you nod, secretly fixing your tight little mini skirt. you knew good and damn well your cheeks were somewhat exposed, but hey. it bring more money in. he didnt miss it, a longer glance than what he shouldve.

you both depart ways, wishing him luck on his boxing match. he nodded, winning of course. but what cost, him being so tense for a couple of days, warm baths of epsom salt didnt even alleviate his pain and discomfort. so, what did he do?

he scheduled an appointment with you, of course. you only had a evening appointment, bingo.

“you need to take me serious when i say to actually take it easy.” you pout, kneading his shoulders and hearing him groan. “eventually youll get a pinched nerve or worse.”

“i know, sorry tiny.” he rolls his eyes, sarcastically of course. he relaxes into the massage table, feeling your smaller hands knead and roll his muscles and back. this felt way too good for him, he wont deny that, ever. he even recommended this place to his buddies, but not you.

you swallow thickly, sneaking your hands closer to his groin as he laid. you shouldve kept going, but you ran out of the aloe juice to rub into his skin. “give me one second, gotta go to my cabinet to get some more.” you received a grunt, his eyes remain closed.

your tiny frame, compared to his, walked over to the cabinet full of supplies and med kits. you ravage the supplies, standing on your tip toes to get a better look.

guts turns his head towards you, immediately looking at your tight skirt that he knows that you know were damn well not long enough.

‘she has way too much curves to be wearing that.’ he thinks to himself, actually growing annoyed at the fact you play it off so well.

“okay, i got!-“ you say while turning back to face him, but he was looming over you, arms folded and hes staring down at you. you feel your core tighten, hoping that you dont get the worse pussy soak in your entire career.

“you know damn better then that.” he mutters out, tilting your head up to look at him. “now dont you, tiny.” he says, adding small sweet but sourness to the word ‘tiny.’

“what are you talking about? you need rest—“ you try to say, but hes cutting you off.

“you know what the fuck im talking about.” he sneers, tugging on your skirt. the front may have been pulled down, but your ass was exposed and bare. guts didnt even have to turn his head to see your exposed ass, his height did that for him. and considering the fact that it was just too small and tight on you. but he wanted to tear it off. “see my point? only had to tug on it and now your whole ass is out.”

you couldn’t respond, but you felt his thumb graze your lip.

“you could get into trouble with that kind of behavior, woman.” he whispers, only jealousy in his eyes. he stared down into you like a predator before he eats his prey, and he snaked a hand around your waist to grab a handful of your left asscheek. his thumb was at the parting of your lips, that being your consent. you nodded.

instead of his thumb, he slides his index and middle inside your mouth, feeling his cock strain against the towel. he groans, gripping at your ass tighter. “suck on that shit..”

you glide your tongue between the digits, suckling on them slightly. he growls, swiftly forcing you to your knees and looking up at him. you look to his waist line.

obviously, the only thing keeping the towel covering his cock was his hardened cock. it stood tall and proud, keeping him covered.

he rips his towel off, his cock springing and he strokes himself, tapping the tip on your lips. “you wanted this, didn’t you?” he asked, running his fingers through your scalp and smearing his pre cum on your lips. you nod, but you had a feeling of something else.

“youre going to bed over the table, and im going to teach you something, ‘kay?” he says, bending your frame over the table. you never felt so expose to the man you grew to adore, but here you were.

“you get thirty spanks, and youre going to count. maybe if you keep up, youll get your own massage.” he snides, rubbing your cheeks. “got that?” you nod.

he lands a harsh slap on your ass, you jumping and biting your lip. “cant hear you–“

“one!” you whimper, squeezing your thighs so your slick of pussy juice doesnt drip down your thighs. he chuckles, landing another slap on your right ass cheek this time. “two!”

“starting off strong, huh?” he teased, both hands grabbing a handful of your ass and pulling them apart. “fuck, this shit is so fucking good.” he groans out, landing another slap.

“three!” you hush out, remembering that there is one more person in the salon before you leave.

your ass was hot and sensitive by the twenty-fifth slap.

“twentyfive!” you whimper out, hearing the slick of guts’ precum being used as lube. he was tugging his cock during this, growing aroused at his handprints on your ass. he kisses behind your shoulder, taking his middle finger and rubbing along your slit. you moan out, feeling so embarrassed by the string of slick that broke off when he pulled away.

“horny fuckin’ thing arent you?” he chuckles, landing another.

“twentysix!” you nod, wiggling your butt to him. which.. you probably shouldn’t have done.

“hey– know what, fuck it.” he growls, putting a hand on your back and sliding his cock in. fuck was he big, you dont think you can take all of this—

“its gunna fuckin’ fit, by the way.” he growled out, dropping balls deep inside of you.

he had the courtesy of covering your mouth before you could moan out, snapping his hips into yours as he plows his way into your womb.

“this is what you get..” he whispers out, “this is what you deserve.” he states, licking at the stretch mark on your shoulder. “is this what you wanted?” he asks, breathing against your ear.

you nod, reaching your hand back to wrap around his wrist that were on your back.

“fuck, already fuckin cummin on me.” he groans, snaking his hands to grope at your breasts. “cum ‘fer me..” he demanded.

and came you did. moaning into the massage pillow of the table– your table. he thrusts into that gummy spot, feeling you squeeze around his cock and he moans, throwing his head back.

he doesnt announce when he cums, but only his body does. his legs are shaking, his eyes are squeezing shut, and he grinding his teeth as he spills his cum inside of your already abused womb—

“y/n? y/nnnn!” guts says, snapping his fingers in your face. you blink back to reality, looking to guts. “are you okay?” he asks, worry and confusion in his face. “youve been looking into the cabinet for the aloe for a little bit, wouldnt that screw your schedule up?”

fuck, you thought too deep.

“yeah, youre right. i wont upcharge you though.” you reassure, smiling to him. he nods, putting his hands behind his head and relaxing, closing your eyes as he laid.

“oh, and, dont think i didnt notice the fact that your skirt is so short and tight, and that you were rubbing your thighs together.”

[narrans]

My Borrowed Son | 3 | Earning Trust

Amanda knew immediately the second she crossed the threshold of her home that she was in over her head. The minuscule boy in the palm of her hand needed intense care, and his size, being no bigger than her thumb, was going to be an immense challenge. 

Still, Amanda knew she made a promise to this boy, and she refused to let him down now - especially after they first met. She had earned a fragment of trust, and she intended to keep it. 

Finally making it past the mountains of boxes, she stepped into her kitchen and set her hand onto the counter. The slight jostle made the poor boy whimper pitifully. 

“You’re okay. I’m here,” she reassured just as she had done the whole way home. Seeing him in full light, Amanda wanted more than anything to give him a bath, but more importantly was the fact that he needed food. One handed, Amanda fished out a bowl and a standard can of chicken noodle soup and began heating it in the microwave. 

She wished she could give him something a little more nutritious and home-made, but that would have to wait. At the moment, her life was upside down. Everything happening was the last thing she wanted, but it was what she needed. 

While the little boy stayed huddled in her hand, Amanda continued to work. She realized after fumbling around for a minute for a spoon that she had nothing in her house that would be small enough for the child. Amanda, as her thoughts bounced around her skull like a bouncy ball, didn’t want to scare the child with a spoon that he could sit on; but he also needed something to eat the soup with. 

The boy watched with his insightful eyes, keeping eerily quiet, while Amanda searched. 

Feeling the pressure of his eyes, Amanda suddenly came up with an idea, but she’d need the boy to listen to instructions for this to work. She snagged a dish cloth from her sink and ran it under the water, moving delicately to not startle the little boy. When it was just barely damp, she turned off the water and held out just a little corner for him. 

“Could you rub your hands on the cloth? Okay? Rub your hands on the cloth,” coaxed Amanda as she mimicked the motion with her thumb and index finger. The infinitesimal child blinked uncertainly before inching himself across Amanda’s palm, making a tingling shiver shoot up her arm, and imitating the motion, rubbing his hands on the cloth. 

Her mind was absolutely numb. This boy was absolutely amazing. At every turn, she was discovering something new about him and what he understood. Did that mean he could speak as well?

The thought was fascinating, but it would have to wait because, just then, the microwave dinged. Amanda moved instinctually at her own pace simply to look over at the kitchen appliance, but it was enough to jostle her hand and make the boy whimper and take cover against Amanda’s curled fingers. 

“Oh… oh no… It’s okay, sweetie. I’m sorry,” muttered Amanda as she curled her fingers a little tighter. The boy whimpered again, hiding his soft brown eyes as he kept them shut tight. His breathing was rapid, and he was trembling ever so slightly. Amanda could feel him against her fingertips. It made her heart hurt, so she tried coaxing him a little more. “I’ll move slower. I promise. You’re okay.” 

Seemingly convinced, the sandy haired boy to open his eyes once again after a few minutes and looked back up at Amanda. To her, it looked like he was seeking reassurance in her eyes, and she freely gave it. 

“There you go. See? All better,” Amanda encouraged. Moving slower now, Amanda retrieved the soup, a soft drink cap, and the loaf of bread from the kitchen counter. With the items neatly organized, Amanda dipped the cap into the warmed soup and tested the temperature to make sure he wouldn’t get burned before daring to lower both the cap and the little boy to the kitchen counter. 

Goodness… he’s so small. He looks like one of those little salt and pepper shakers, Amanda thought as she kept her hand on the counter, the boy still sitting on the edges of her fingers. He was looking around at all of the cabinets and drew his legs in toward him, obviously intimidated. 

To make this a positive experience, Amanda acted quickly and pinched off a corner of bread and offered it to the boy. His little features furrowed in confusion as he carefully took the bread from in between her pinched fingers. He rotated around so he could face her but didn’t leave the safety of her hand. 

It wasn’t ideal, but it was the only option she had. She didn’t want to force the boy off. If her hand was where he felt safe, then that was where he should stay. 

Amanda moved the cap of soup onto her palm in front of the boy before pulling her own bowl toward her. 

“Here now, watch me, okay? Just dip the bread into the soup, like this,” instructed Amanda. Keeping her hand steady, she took her own piece of bread and dipped it into the liquid, swirled it around, and then brought it to her lips for a bite. The soft brown eyed boy watched Amanda do this several more times before looking down at his own piece of bread and, to her amazement, dipping it into the broth in the lid, imitating Amanda’s behavior. 

Thankfully, Amanda didn’t need to continue repeating the action because the moment the bread and salty soup touched his lips, the boy began to eat ravenously, broth dribbling down his front and into his already filthy clothes. 

Now really able to see him, Amanda saw that the little boy’s outfit consisted of a shirt with a faded yellow button on his front that took up most of his chest and a big green button on his back that was like the one on his chest. He was barefoot, mud caked in between his toes, and his pants were obviously soiled. 

It made Amanda’s heart twist in her chest. How long had this boy been out on his own? 

When the little pinch of bread was gone, the most pitiful look filled his eyes as he looked back up at Amanda eagerly, to which she happily gave him another piece. He inhaled three fair sized bread pinches before he showed signs of slowing down. It was on the fifth piece that he slowed and stopped, simply holding the bread close and nibbling on the edge absentmindedly. 

Amanda knew she would need to get some utensils for him, but now was not that time. Now, after the boy had some food in him, she managed to convince him to drink a little bit of water before she shuffled both of them to the bathroom. 

A bath was in order. 

She stepped up to her bathroom sink and began to run some warm water. She found some vapor bubble bath that would probably do the little boy some good and added that to the running water in the sink. 

At first sight, however, the boy whimpered and scuttled across her hand to grasp her thumb with all of his might. He was shivering violently and fell to his knees. Amanda kept her free hand cupped near her thumb in case the little boy accidentally lost his balance. Perhaps it was instinct, but the boy’s ability to balance on such a malleable substance like a hand was incredible. 

She couldn’t pause to marvel at him now, however. 

With a feeling like a punch in the gut, Amanda tried figuring out how to convince this child he was alright and that the water was alright. 

Did something happen related to water to make him so afraid? Amanda wondered. The horrid thought that he had been swept away in a rainstorm from his family made her heart clench. Just keep reassuring him. Show him it’s okay. He trusted you with the bread, right? 

It was a weak argument, but it was all she had. 

“It’s okay sweetie,” coaxed Amada, speaking once again in a low, sonoric tone. “It’s just water, see?” With that, Amanda carefully placed her other hand under the water and moved her fingers around, splashing the liquid around the sink. The little boy continued clutching Amanda’s thumb as he whimpered. 

She had to try something else. Then, she got an idea. 

Amanda cupped her one hand and caught some of the water in it before pulling it away from the faucet and holding it up to the little boy. 

“Here, see? It’s just water,” reassured Amanda as she tapped the puddle of water in her palm while holding it up to the boy. 

He turned his soft brown eyes to Amanda before looking back at the water. Tears still staining his face, he leaned forward and barely touched the water with the tip of his finger. 

The miniscule boy instantly retraced his finger and huddled against Amanda’s thumb, but a smile from her and another reassuring, “It’s okay,” had the boy tapping the liquid until the tears stopped. 

It would take Amanda another twenty minutes to coax the little boy under the stream of water where she gently massaged soap into his hair and over his clothes. While she worked, she watched the boy’s eyes drifting further and further down, drowsiness overtaking him. The sight was adorable beyond words. Though tentative, his trust mixed with exhaustion was making this little boy fall asleep in her hands. 

Amanda dried him off, careful not to jostle his head, and carefully constructed a toga-like outfit. Cutting away the little boy’s clothes was nerve wracking and made Amanda’s heart ache at seeing all of his injuries as well as his little ribs, which were clearly visible. There were also numerous bruises on his body as well as scratches, some of which ran from the base of his back to the top of his neck. 

Was he attacked by something? How long has he been out there? Where are his parents? Did he have parents? 

Amanda organized a shoebox with some snacks, water, and bedding and set the unconscious boy inside. Evidently, he had fallen asleep in her hand while she put together a space for him.

His little forehead furrowed as he twitched and turned into the bed Amanda made for him.

Now, more than ever, she needed to find out about this little boy, and, beyond that, she needed to find a way to protect him - no matter what.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

Previous

Beginning

[numberoneasmogirlfriend]

Venting to the brothers

My favourites are so obvious, so sorry :(

CW:mentions of su1c1de, mentions of sh, mentions of SA (let me know if i missed something). This probably won't be all comfort and such, but just my thoughts on how would they react, read at ur own risk, not proofread.

U seemed more distant today, and spent most of the day in the library. When *character* saw u in the corner, knees by ur chest and tears rolling down ur cheeks. "What happened, MC?"

LUCIFER

I feel like he wouldnt be good at talking about such matters, but he definitely is proud that u feel comfortable enough to tell him about whatever traumatic/hard events u went thru.

He'll probably be checking up on u more frequently and try to see anything that's concerning in ur behaviour.

I think that he would say things along "i understand it's hard for u, but please don't dwell on the past". He'll try to distract u from these thoughts. If u show him healed self harm scars he will make u promise on never doing that again. And if he sees u breaking the promise? Get ready for a lecture.

MAMMON

He's a sweetheart. He'll hug u as tight as he can, maybe even cry if u say something about ending it all or something. If u tell him about being touched inappropriately, he'll get mad and probably tell u how he would tear whoever dared to lay a finger on u limb by limb. Also, he's the type of guy to kiss ur scars.

He'll try to spend as much time with u as possible so he can make sure ure feeling okay. If he sees u crying, he will take u to a more secluded area (if ure comfortable with that) and just support u thru it.

LEVIATHAN

I feel like at first he would be kinda avoiding u because he doesn't want to hurt u. But he'll still give/recommend shows and games, but will be very carefully picking them so there's no themes that might upset u.

Will try to distract u with gaming. If hes sure ure okay with him joking about ur trauma, he'll definitely use the "villain origin story". Will patch up ur sh with these cute bandaids, so you'll see something nice instead of doing it again.

SATAN

Will be mad that it happened to u. He just hates seeing people close to him suffering. But he hates being the reason of suffering more so he tries to keep calm.

"do u wanna stay alone?" "What can i do to help u?". If u can't get out the things that happened, he'll try to guess so u can just shake ur head "yes" or "no". Will be very cautious and carefull and just acting like he wishes somebody would comfort him. He'll also be very quiet i think. He would barely speak, but his actions already told more than words ever could.

ASMODEUS

Would listen to u and then proceed to recitate a paragraph about how ur body is still perfect and ur personality is even better and that he'll love u forever so don't u dare speak bad about urself.

"shh cutie, let me wipe off ur makeup". If ure comfortable with it, he'll sit u down in his bathtub and try to soothe u. Warm water with lavender, calming bath salts. So many scents but somehow it doesn't overwhelm u. He will put away his usual flirty and dirty-minded self and treat ur problems very seriously.

BEELZEBUB

Another sweetheart. Like Satan, it hurts seeing u being hurt. Will try to distract u with food, even sharing his favourite burgers with u.

He'll listen to u with tears forming in his eyes, and asking if he can hug u. Will press ur head against his heart, trying to take away these memories.

Would cuddle u whenever he can, if u let him of course.

BELPHEGOR

He does not know how to react. I swear he tries his best, but he just doesn't know. Probably will just be silent and sit next to u, giving u a shoulder to cry on.

"let's take a nap, you'll feel better".

I think he is gonna talk about it, but later when he gets his thoughts in order. Will be very careful and empathetic. He can kinda relate after all.

[destinygoldenstar]

I LOVE seeing headcanons related to Kai's powers. Like in the show he uses his power as a light source and that's cool, but people online go beyond that and come up with cool ideas of variety he could do as an elemental.

My favorites include:

The flame shield we saw with his True Potential. With how destructive fire is, you'd think his would be offensive like Zane's is, but no it's the opposite. I think that's poetic with how True Potential functions with the master's discovery of themselves. Zane's is raw power from his heart and soul because of his acceptance of his identity. Cole's is strength from his strong will to stand up for who he is no matter the weight and pressure. Jay's is teleportation and flight because... faith trust and pixie dust? Idk that one confuses me a little, someone help me there. Kai's is a shield because he is a brother at his core. That's his fighting purpose. It's to protect his family, blood or surrogate. His fire is a protection barrier for the people he loves.

Speaking of family, the idea that he has a higher body temperature than the others, and it doesn't affect him negatively. Maybe it causes heat strokes in intense environments, but idk for sure if that's a problem for him. So he's just a space heater half the time. Especially for his siblings like Nya and Lloyd. You're cold? You're sick? You're cuddling with Kai and staying warm, and he ain't letting you go. Unless you're Jay, then he might tell you 'can't wait to go to your funeral knowing I could've changed that outcome'. (Lloyd goes limp cause he's part dragon)

The flames change colors when in certain sources like the crystals from Elemental. I never knew I needed that. But I think Kai would just like to play with it around Lloyd to cheer up the angsty child, and Lloyd likes it because ooo pretty lights. Imagine using this for like a bedtime story for someone. He also would do it to frame other people for pranks. 'Oh the ashes are green well clearly Lloyd did it' 'Oh its rocks it's gotta be Cole'. It almost never works.

He's afraid of water because he can't swim. That's how I interpret it. So when you splash him with water, he's just frowning. And it depends on who does it. If it's Nya, he goes, "...ok." If it's someone else, he goes, "What'd you say to me?!" If it's someone like Jay, he goes, "So you have chosen death." My point is that despite the water paranoia, he likes taking baths, especially before bed. He'll tell you he hates them, because they make him do it before bed. They do it to calm him down because if he goes to bed mad, or has a panic attack, or has a nightmare, his powers could go off the fritz and he burns the bedsheets. He likes it as a calming thing, away from stress of the day. He also likes the bath salts, again his flames changing colors with that stuff. Half of the time it's ingredients from that Sereni-tea from that Wu's Tea shorts. It's a therapy medicine for him.

BLUE FLAMES. YUS. This is one that I wish we actually saw in the show because that would be awesome. He doesn't use it very often because it's hard to control and maybe damaging, but that's why he only uses it when he's just... out of control of himself. Imagine a nightmare of a situation where an enemy just takes it too far. Severely injures one of his siblings, for example. Then you just see the fire turn blue... you'd run for the hills if you were them. That man is angry. ANGRY angry

These aren't mine. I did not come up with these. I've just seen these scattered online everywhere, and I love it, and I love art of it.