#after sunken gardens

[drmeek]

where the guava pastry was

[dervampireprince]

taking care of astarion after cazador's death no smut, just comfort /// gender-neutral reader/tav

after cazador's deminse, after the spawn leave, once it's just you and your companions again, astarion doesn't speak. it's as if he's in a daze. you're torn between giving him space and leaving him on his own, and wondering if he really needs to not be alone right now.

he's still covered in blood, you'd given him a shirt he pulled on over his head, the grime on his skin soaked through and left it sticking to his skin, it was over his face, in his hair. he didn't make any move to wipe any of it away.

the trek out of the castle, out of the dark, seemed so long. you wondered how he was still standing, how he was dragging his legs. you stay by his side, but did not touch him, you make no move to grab his hand, to sooth him. you hoped walking at his side, matching his pace, conveyed enough. you were here. and you weren't going to touch him until he said it was alright.

you only had one plan you cared about when you finally reached the inn. the others talked amongst themselves, one by one their eyes lingering on astarion, apologising, telling him he did the right thing, that they were proud of him. you watched them start to retreat up to their rooms as you spoke with innkeeper.

once done with your conversation, key in hand, astarion still stood at the foot of the stairs.

"were you waiting for me?" you asked. he opened his mouth to speak, his eyes drifted down, he paused. "i want to take you somewhere. and i know you're tired, i promise it's to help you rest."

he nodded, still mute, you reached out to take his hand, stopped yourself, and instead beckon him to follow you.

you wound through the inn, existing out into a small garden, and entering the building on the other side, guiding astarion through the main door and down the corridors until you found the door that fits the key the innkeeper gave you.

inside was a small, private bath, sunken into the ground like a hot spring. it's nothing that fancy, but it's quiet, and fits it's purpose. you press the key into his hand, carefully.

"i can leave, if you'd like. and you can take all the time you need... or, if you'd rather, i can stay and help you wash. and that's all we'll be doing. i'd be touching you, but it wouldn't be sexual. and if you're not comfortable with that, it's okay," you twisted your head to try and catch his gaze. "would you like me to stay or go? i won't be offended or upset, the choice is yours, and if you'd rather i go i'll be waiting for you upstairs."

he still didn't speak, you wondered if his screams and cries earlier have made his voice hoarse, or if he just can't bring himself too. your hand hovered by his cheek, not touching, but trying to guide his head to turn towards yours, and when he finally does there's wetness in his eyes, the blood high on his cheekbones becoming smudged.

"would you like me to stay?"

his teeth sank into his lip, if they drew blood you'd be unable to tell. he nodded his head.

"would you like to undress yourself, or do you want me to help?"

you saw him shudder, and he stepped back and as he started to remove his clothes you did the same with yours. you wade into the bath, sinking down and sigh as the water washes over your tired muscles.

you turned, and reached out a hand towards him. he took it.

he's silent as you reached into the small basket at the side of the bath, lathering soap in your hands and getting to work, starting with his hands, kneading around his nails, up his arms, his torso, his face.

he's silent as you nudged him to move, knelt up behind him, asked him to tilt his head back, poured water over his head, felt him start to relax as he closed his eyes, running your hands through his hair, feeling as though it's the most intimate action you've ever done with him, despite the multiple nights of passion.

he's still silent when you exited the baths, annoyed that you can't just roll under clean sheets but have to redress yourselves, as you hesitated to follow him into your room, ready to bunk with one of the others, but he took your hand, and then you're both silent as you undress again, crawl under the sheets, letting him reach for you this time, now that he's ready, taking him in your arms, cradling his head to your chest, fingers playing with his hair.

you don't imagine the soft "thank you" that fell from his lips as you both drifted off to sleep.

[b14augrana]

Kiss of Strife

Football has always been your safe haven, but your home life gradually starts to manifest in different ways away from home, which doesn’t go unnoticed by your captain

Alexia Putellas x teen!reader

masterlist

Warnings: this story contains depictions of family issues associated with emotional unavailability and forms of abuse. read at your own discretion

A/N: an alexia x teen!reader angst fic was requested so here it is!! i decided this will be multiple parts as well so i hope you enjoy this chapter and the rest of this little series

(i wrote this pretty late at night and it isnt proofread so please excuse any mistakes regarding the tense, grammar etcetc)

Everything is perfect.

You’re scoring goals for your club and bagging assists. Your name is no longer a strange string of consonants and vowels but a recognisable word within the community of Cataluña, and it is only because of an ambition you dedicated the rest of your life to pursuing.

That’s just in the face of football though.

At home, there is a drought. The four walls of a family house are meant to behave like a dam which stores love and affection in the place of water, but your house is devoid of that.

Your house fosters a bitterness that doesn’t go hand in hand with anything along the lines of love and affection. The drawings on the fridge, created by a 5-year-old you, have faded over time, the ink being nothing more than splotches in some areas — a testament to the lack of care and attention your efforts received.

Relationships are barely surviving on simple greetings and empty ‘I love yous’. You crave something that is dangerous to want, but in your heart burns a desire to get the hell out.

Your lullaby is the faint yelling from the living room as you shut your eyes and focus on the gradually increasing volume of both voices, contradicting each other and trying to stab each other with no blade.

Your little sister crawls into your bed, her body flush against yours, another little arm wrapped around hers. Beneath your covers, there is warmth. Beneath your grip, there is safety.

During the school holidays, a child is supposed to savour every waking moment they spend at home and appreciate every day of it. You find yourself asking God why that isn’t the case, as you walk to practise with your sister’s hand in yours.

She sits on the sidelines picking grass as you train with your teammates, dreading the inevitable passing of minutes as you practise skill after skill. When you retreat to the bench for a quick water break, she runs up to you, bunches of chamomiles clutched in her hands that she begs to insert between the weaving of your braid.

From the day of your first training with the team, Alexia was drawn to you. She blamed it on her captain instincts, seeing as you’re the youngest on the team and therefore has the most potential, but now it’s gone beyond her captaincy. She’s known you for months, almost a full year now. She isn’t just your captain anymore.

She isn’t aware of the reality of your home life beyond the telltale signs such as the slightly sunken skin below your eyes or the bruises that taint your skin and are allegedly caused by your ‘clumsiness’. She knows there is something more to the extra effort you constantly put into training and games — she doesn’t know yet that it’s the pent up anger, sadness and fear manifesting in more productive forms.

You pour your heart and soul into the movement of the ball, in hopes that you can pursue your dreams of running away from what is restricting you from pursuing even greater dreams, an actual dream.

School starts back up for your sister. Things have been looking up for you, a huge burden off your shoulders. The house hasn’t shaken with another argument for a while and for once you get to know what silence is while you sleep, really sleep.

With every passing day, you find your memories with your father to resemble a garden; you can’t have a garden without flowers, just like how you can’t have memories of him without doing anything with him. When you were young, your garden was comparable to a rainforest, a new species in every corner, a kaleidoscope of beauty..

Until there was no more new species to plant and nurture, and the ones that already existed were getting neglected because all that you receive when you look at them are sour memories of what once was — the gardener you used to be, how rich the soil was, how steadily the flowers grew and how proud you were of your garden.

Your garden is dead now. It has gotten to the point where he doesn’t care about planting new flowers or watering the plants that already exist, leaving them to die of thirst. He’s absent and his emotional unavailability killed your flowers.

The little girl in you that wanted nothing else but love from her parents, loved that garden with her whole heart. She would’ve done anything she could to plant one more flower, she would’ve used the last drop of water in a drought to water her plants.

Alexia noticed something different about you today. The way you bounced around rather than the usual trudge… you had actual, sleep-induced energy.

Your sister also isn't with you. Alexia later asks you about it while you two are getting water and she learns that your sister is at school, and there is a smile on your face that she didn’t even realise had been absent for days until she saw it again.

Alexia has always been nice to you. The others treat you like a teammate, but she treats you like a friend. It feels like a special privilege, knowing ‘La Reina’ personally. She’s obviously a pillar in women’s football but to you, she’s much more.

She harbours a soft spot for you in her heart that becomes evident when she asks you if you need a ride home, and who are you to turn down such an offer when the ache in your legs is close to becoming unbearable?

“You’re talented, chica,” the woman says as you slink into the passenger seat of her car. “I haven’t had the chance to say it, but there hasn’t been a player like you for quite a bit.”

Her praise is so much more than just a couple of words from your captain. Though you smile and say a shy thank you, your heart races because you’ve just been called talented by one of the best players in the world, and there is no feeling greater than that. It gives you a tiny sliver of hope for a brighter future than what you’re already living, and for a moment, escaping your four walls seems possible.

The joy you experienced during the whole car ride is short lived once her car pulls into your driveway. Perhaps she can see the way your expression drops and your demeanour falls, because her hand finds your shoulder and squeezes it in a way that comforts you. “Do you want me to walk you to the door?” she asks, and though you really wish she could, you shake your head for the better.

There’s a slight frown on her face before she nods and drops her hand. You think about the possibility of her knowing that there’s something going on behind the closed doors of your home, and a big part of you hopes so, but no words besides a ‘gracías’ and ‘adios’ manage to find their way out of your mouth despite the pleas for help and support bubbling in your throat as you shut the door of her car.

When you reach the patio, the door opens to bombard you with the raucous of an argument happening around the corner of the hallway.

Your limbs are barely functioning and your eyes are struggling to stay open which is an obvious sign of the exhaustion soaring through your body, hence why you skip right past seeing your parents and beeline towards your sister’s room.

For as long as you can remember, arguments have been a consistent part of evenings spent in your household. Sometimes violence finds itself becoming the last resort, leaving you stuck to bear the brunt of a heavy hand. It’s what happens when two sides of the same coin try to work out — two negatives can’t make a positive, it’s impossible for them to get along and there is never a last word. That’s the unfortunate reality of your parents’ relationship.

You sink into the soft mattress of your sister’s bed and beckon her from the desk to lay beside you. She flips her paper over and abandons the seat to run over to you, her little body falling into your embrace. When she asks you what they’re talking about this time, you tell your sister that they’re just having a little disagreement, and if she sleeps it off, it’ll go away. It’s a promise, you say, before you proceed to tell her all about your training and your teammates. It’s her favourite thing, and she says it’s better than a bedtime story.

In no time, little exhales slip past her mouth as her eyes flutter shut, and you roll her off your body, tucking her into the butterfly printed duvet. With tentative steps across the hardwood, you find yourself at her desk and your fingers ghost over the piece of paper as you squint to read it in the dimness of her nightlight.

‘Mi papá hermana guapa

My sister is strong. She plays fútbol and she is good at it. My sister takes care of me and takes me to her pracktise, I like going with my sister. She helps me sleep and when I am with my sister, I am not scared. I am proud of m–…’

And the rest trails off. The body remains incomplete, but there’s one last sentence at the bottom of the page.

‘Amo a mi hermana.’

You place it back on her desk as you fail to combat the tears flooding your waterline. ‘She must’ve been instructed to write a poem by her teacher… for Father’s Day’, you think to yourself. Turning away so you don’t ruin her writing with your tears, you wiped them with the back of your Barça jacket sleeve and flipped the page around before making a dead silent exit. The house was completely still beside the low noise of talking from the TV and light snoring.

Your tears are not because of happiness. No, they stream down your face because it’s then that you realise something, and it opens up a whole new portal of questions.

As the streak of silence is broken and you’re forced to fall asleep to the low humming noise from the living room and a restless mind, you wonder what twisted realm of anger and bitterness your father lives in that forbids him from showing the smallest signs of love to his kids.

But, you already know the answer to that question, deep down. Instead, you wonder if you’ll see Alexia tomorrow, stretching in her usual spot, and you wonder if she’ll look up and smile at you again and invite you over.

You hope that’s what will happen. You pray for it.

[yanderefarm]

Now I need us “pretending” to forget about Emil, only to actully forget about it him.

Like, as a punishment we lock him in the basement and forget about him as a joke, send a maid down there once a day to feed him, but then we genuinely forget about with him, because we didn’t realize how much work Emil does.

He gets feed once a day from a maid, but that’s the only interaction he has. (Need some more angst before it gets fluffy🙏🙏)

part 3 of this & 2

i don't know why i love this series so much i want to break emil so bad. i have so much fun writing pathetic emil whump.

cw;; domestic abuse, drugging, unsanitary, manipulation, dehumanization

things had been relatively peaceful since starting the divorce process. a process you had paid the information guild to purposely obstruct and delay while also leaking all the information about. at this point you met the guild master more than your own husband, in spite of emil's attempts. every day you would wake up to find some kind of expensive gift and your maids would inform you that emil was there to see you, to which you would dismiss both. but emil kept trying.

he wasn't even being drugged anymore but the effects had clearly taken their toll on his mind. according to the servants of the main house he wasn't doing his work, he would spend all his time wandering or sitting like he was the living dead, and they even heard him crying. your name and even mention of the queen title had been all but banned by his advisors in an attempt to get him to pull himself together. he wasn't.

the first time you saw him in 6 months was shortly after a meeting with the guild master discussing your next steps to take over the kingdom. you had decided with everything squared away you would go out for a walk by the fountain.

the moon was the only light on the usually vibrant garden, casting it in a somber darkness. the air was cold and heavy with the chilling change of seasons on the horizon so you were wrapped in a shawl. it was the perfect night to find him. your husband was standing on the bridge overlooking the fountain, he was staring down into the water longingly. you could see from his reflection in the water his eyes were sunken and there were bags under them, his hair was messy and uncombed, and he was paler than normal. he looked sickly and the cold blank look in his eyes didn't help.

he didn't even seem to notice as you approached when usually he would be on high alert or draw his sword. or he did notice.

"if you're going to kill me please make it quick." he must have thought you were some kind of assassin but more notably his voice was so soft and weak unlike anything you'd ever heard from him.

"i have no intention of killing you." your voice made his head shoot up with all the speed his weakened state could allow.

fresh tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. "(y/n)..? are you... real..?"

he stumbled towards you his feet struggling to carry him. you reached out and caught his surprisingly light body.

"you're re-"

"what's wrong with you? do you think dying will make things better?"

he flinched and his head fell to the ground.

"i thought you would break eventually and just admit you were wrong. but you'd rather die, hm?"

"i- you- i tried-"

"i don't want your excuses, emil."

he swallowed hard as tears began falling freely from his eyes. he opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. you couldn't help but take some kind of pity on the poor man, your hand running under his chin and forcing him to look back at your face.

"you're so pathetic... this is what the terrible tyrant becomes?"

you ran your thumb along his bottom lip before you leaned in close enough to feel his ragged breath against your lips.

"give up your pathetic life. give everything to me. everything ends when you give it to me."

he tried to lean forward enough to catch your lips but you kept out of his reach. instead of letting him kiss you, you pulled away from him completely. you stood up straight and pulled your arms away from his body causing the pathetic man to drop onto his knees. his body hit the cobble like you'd dropped a corpse but you decided not to care, choosing to turn away instead.

you started to walk away when you heard scratching and clawing at the stone under your feet.

"-ing please. please!" his voice clearly strained to try get your attention.

you stopped in your tracks waiting for him to speak but instead you heard more clawing and shuffling. eventually you felt his head bump into your leg like a cat greeting its owner. his bloody hands grabbed your leg and he held onto you as tight as he could while rubbing his head against your leg.

"emil. let me go."

"please take it... please take everything..."

"let me go."

"you want everything its yours. please."

"emil."

you finally dared to look down at him. he was so pathetic, his tears and blood were staining your pants. you let out a heavy sigh and reached down, your hand running through his tangled mess of hair.

"if you mean that then tomorrow concede your kingdom to me."

his peachy pink eyes looked up at you.

"do you understand?"

he nodded.

"then let go. you're getting me dirty."

he hesitated but he slowly let go of your leg.

———

of course your husband came through. he did as you ordered him, meaning you ascended to the title of king ahead of your schedule. while it certainly had its benefits it did leave a few things unfinished specifically on the guild master's end. so after everything settled into place you used your new found power to help staple in the final touches.

your husband who had been so happy to have you next to him again the past few months had to resume the drugs just so your hard work wouldn't completely slip away. he was still walking around like a corpse just a better maintained one. but no one seemed to have the time to pay much mind in the chaos of making you king. no one had the time to wonder where he went near the end of the chaos as you took over. and it was only when it was too late did his advisors even notice he wasn't anywhere to be found in the castle. you had to reassure them that he was currently tucked away from the public receiving the utmost medical care for his poor condition.

you ran a hand through your hair as you descended the dungeon steps, you were currently complaining to your maid about all the tedious parts of your job. there was an undeniable smile on your face though, the pride of having the most powerful kingdom in your hands made even the tedium valuable. your smile only widened twisting into a sick smirk as your torch caught onto the dirty form of your caged husband. he was on his knees clinging to the bars of his cell with tearful dead eyes.

"how long has it been, emil...?"

you walked over and crouched in front of him, he immediately went to push his head against your hand.

"your highness it's been 6 months since your last visit." your maid hung the torch nearby.

"really...? it's been over a year since i started this..."

your maid set about preparing emil's food while you pet him gently.

"i didn't mean to forget you down here."

the poor man didn't even seem to realize as he rubbed his head against your hand.

"oh emil... to think it only took a little over a year to break the mad king. to take everything away from you. to trap you in a little cage like you did my family."

the maid returned with some fresh water and a bowl of porridge. you pulled away from emil as she gave him his food. you watched his pathetic eyes look up at you desperately and you cocked your head to the side.

"your highness he's asking permission to eat."

your eyes lit up as you looked over at your maid. "oh my goodness!! you're incredible! i remember telling you i wanted to train him but to think you really went the extra mile..."

"thank you, sir. it's an absolute honor to break the man who destroyed my home."

your smile didn't fade as you looked down at the pleading former tyrant. "go ahead. but you can't use your hands."

emil hesitated before he finally shoved his face down into the bowl, eating like a pig with slop. it was a disgusting but amusing site, you and your maid had a good laugh at his expense.

once he was done you decided to give him a reward for good behavior. you crouched down in front of him and gently cleaned the mess off his face with a warm wash cloth. it was the closest thing he'd had to a real bath in the past 6 months. he was sobbing as he leaned into your hands.

it didn't last as long as he'd liked and you pulled away again.

"continue training him. id like to parade him around eventually so we should work with that goal in mind."

"you'll have his complete obedience. he won't even think to breathe without your permission."

"wonderful." you ran a hand down through his tangled mess of hair. "... I'll give you a budget so you can properly turn this area into the perfect training facility and our private friend can help you with the details."

"i look forward to it, your highness."

"i do too. when we're done with you you'll finally tell me you love me. you'll thank me for all of this, emi."

all you got was a whimper in response. you left your precious husband down in the dungeon, a forgotten and disgraced king.

[little-diable]

DIABLE. I feel your lack of inspiration deep within my soul as I, too, have been struggling.

That being said, I'm back on my Cillian Murphy bullshit and would love to see some domestic Tommy, maybe after a really long day of blood and gore he comes home to a plush world of softness and love and consideration and he can turn it all off.

My darling, thank you for sending this in, it definitely inspired me! I hope you enjoy this little drabble. <3

Summary: Tommy will always do what his wife asks of him, especially when he needs a few calm moments himself.

Warnings: nothing, just nudity, full on fluff and fun

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (about 800 words)

Somewhat of a follow up Drabble

It was a mild August evening, a day that had been too hot for (y/n)’s liking which had passed all too slowly. Perhaps it had been the fault of all the running around she had done – whatever it was, the second the kids had been put to sleep, she had told their staff to leave for the night, desperate for a few hours of silence.

The second she had been left alone, (y/n) had hurried outside, shoes long forgotten as she dragged the old, ceramic tub through the garden. Sweat had pooled on her forehead, forming pearly drops that dripped down to the ground, but she had been determined, set on cooling off while watching the sunset.

She had run back and forth to fill the tub, arms and legs begging her to slow down and rest for a minute or two. But (y/n) hadn’t stopped moving until the tub had been filled to her liking. And with a satisfied grin glued to her lips, she had shuffled out of her dress, underwear following moments later.

Her squeals had echoed through the evening as she had sunken into the cold water, unable to stop her laughter from clawing through her. She had been grateful that nobody else was around, they surely would have called her a hysteric madwoman, calling the doctors on her for the childish glee the cold water had shot through her veins.

(Y/n) was too focused on the sunset to hear the call of her name, she was also too distracted to pick up on the confused expression tugging on Tommy’s features as he spotted her through the windows. With a cigarette between his lips, he slowly stepped outside, undoing the buttons of his jacket as he moved closer.

“What a nice view to come home to, eh?” She jerked in surprise as Tommy spoke up, forcing her wide eyes towards her grinning husband. Tommy’s gaze wandered down her throat, watching the water drops stick to her soft skin. The water was clear enough to expose every inch of her body, leaving Tommy groaning as he dipped his head down to kiss her. “Tell me, how did that tub end up right here?”

“Well, what do you think? I doubt the faeries miraculously carried it over here.” A deep rumble of laughter vibrated through Tommy, momentarily reminded of the stories he had read to their children the night prior, feeding their obsession with faeries and mystical creatures. “Will you just stand there or join me like a good husband would?”

Tommy watched her for another moment before he threw his cigarette to the ground and began to shrug out of his clothes, exposing his body inch by inch. (Y/n) pulled her knees to her chest to make room behind herself, grinning in excitement as he began to step into the tub.

“Fucking hell, do you want me to freeze my cock off?” His curses left her giggling, eyes sparkling with mischief. But Tommy kept on moving with curses rolling off his tongue, till he finally got into a seated position. He pulled her against his chest with a hum, pressing a kiss to her cold cheek. 

“How was your day?” (Y/n) murmured her words, eyes closed, head resting against Tommy’s shoulder. He interlaced his fingers with hers, letting his thumb run over the back of her hand with slow movements. 

“Exhausting, sometimes I wonder if I’m still made for this life. I’m getting old, eh?” She froze in his grasp, let her eyes shoot open and slowly turned towards him. Her eyes wandered over Tommy’s exhausted features, instantly able to pick up on the hurt flushing through him, the anger he couldn’t shake, and the greedy desperation he had never been able to feed well enough. 

(Y/n) cupped his cheek, she pressed a kiss to his lips before she began to speak up, “You’re anything but old, dear husband of mine. And trust me, if I’d feel like you’re getting old, I’d instantly sell you to the faeries.” 

Loud laughter rumbled through him, a sound so carefree, (y/n) hadn’t heard it in a long time. And with a widening grin stuck to her lips, (y/n) pressed another kiss to Tommy's lips, knowing that their evening together was just about to get exciting.

[justasecretflower]

Dating Gyutaro before he became a demon🤍

You look lost, visit my garden?

- You’re his reason for life, you and his younger sister.

- you met him while he was limping back to his house after he had went out because his mother had brought a customer over.

- his little sister was with him, ume.

- also, he tried running away at first..

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·—————

I carefully walked slowly through the street, it was a chilly autumn night in the streets of Japan, the breeze swaying in between strands of my h/c hair, a quiet night, just me and the slight wind, snug kimono and contentment overflowing me. Suddenly, a man and a little girl appear before me, he looked around 20, with a girl attached to his hip. I took in the man and his sisters general appearance. The man was skin and bones, and wore a brown torn up kimono, his hair was black and scruffy, tied into a bun, and I was pretty sure I could smell him all 10 feet away. The little girl had white hair and also looked like she was deprived of food and water. A pang of hurt swelled up inside of me seeing they’re starvation so obvious with their sunken torsos and rib cages showing, a surge of compassion came right after as I gained the courage to speak up. “Hey, what’s your name? I’m y/n” I said softly, while tapping his bony shoulder. His head snaps towards me, his dull blue eyes blown out and red shot. I couldn’t even get a word in before he just..ran away.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

- it would take you a couple tries to get his trust, you gave him and his sister food, stitched up some of his torn clothes, a bunch of stuff.

- eventually, he let you in slowly, but just because it took him a long time to trust you, don’t think it took him a long time to fall in love with you..

- he fell first, and harder.

- he calls you his “sun-ray” while talking about you.

- when he goes to sleep he thinks about how much better you deserve while he tears up. You don’t need a burden like him, he was convinced.

- he feels like he shouldn’t even look at you, with him being so ugly, unclean, dirty.

- yet when you grab his cheeks and look into his eyes he just melts into your touch and hesitantly starts kissing your hands.

- he will bow down and kiss your feet no question if you ask ..

- when he sees you with ume he almost cries every time. Seeing his sister be so loved by some he so loves..

- his lips are chapped, so it’s not pleasant to kiss but he puts all of his love into his kisses you barely notice his chapped lips.

- he is forever grateful and SO in love with you.

- sometimes he just breaks down because he can’t pay for a proper wedding to marry you.

- his sister ADORES you. You guys brush each others hair, look at pretty kimonos together, it’s so fun :(.

- he’s always at your home despite feelings horrible about it. The first time he came over he didn’t move an inch from the front door for about 10 minutes because he kept saying he was too dirty to walk in your home.

- sometimes, he’ll lay his head on your thighs and just look at you with so much love you nearly pass out. He’s so in love with you it’s crazy, and it’s SO noticeable.

- his love language is words of affirmation. Please call him pretty even if he doesn’t believe it.

- he tells you how beautiful you are, how lucky he is to end up with you, how talented you are, almost daily.

- well, I hope nothing goes wrong :).

Demon slayer reqs open.

Tags

[snippychicke]

Poppy Seeds -- Part One

As you may have guessed, I fell into a new hyper fixation. Poppy's Playtime of all things. >.<

Inspired by TooManyPsuedonyms work, which in turn was inspired by @semisolidmind fanart/cabin!Au for Playtime Poppy.

I know right now we have no idea who or what Ollie is, but I decided to go with the assumption he is just a kid and not the Prototype as some theorists are assuming. This will likely be debunked in chapter four, but I'm running with it until then.

Dogday/Player!reader (attempting keeping it gender neutral)

Warnings: will touch on the after effects of trauma, but nothing is super explicit. Maybe some unhealthy coping skills (Dogday holding Reader on a pedestal) But otherwise we're giving everyone a happy ending. (Everything is wonderful and nothing hurts)

One: Home

Your hands gripped the steering wheel tight as your old truck climbed up the steep incline. It hadn't liked the rough road on a good day, let alone with Kissy and Dogday in the back trying to drag it down. Now it whined and complained, the wheels occasionally skidding on the gravel. Ollie clutched to Poppy tightly next to you, his sunken eyes wide with fear. Poppy, to her credit, looked confident that everything would be okay.

By the time you reached the cabin nestled high above the valley, it was close to midnight. It was a sizable two story home, complete with a barn, garage, and even a chicken coop. Thick forest surrounded the homestead, assuring complete privacy. A year ago your grandparents had moved into an assisted living community in town, leaving the whole place to you. The rest of the family had not been happy but in your defense you would come out every school break growing up to help them out.

And then, after you left Playtime Co, you had moved in under the guise of getting your life sorted out. Your grandparents never asked why it was taking you a decade to figure it out. Which you were glad, because you didn't know how you would have answered them.

Ollie’s fear eased into wonder as he looked at the flock of sheep you had in the pens up front. You were just thankful they were still there, looking rather healthy despite the fact you had been unexpectedly gone for a week or so.

When you had received the letter and VHS about the old Playtime Co you had interned 10 years ago while in college, you thought you would be gone for a few days at most considering it was a few hours away. You prepped your home as best as you could for being gone that long-- giving extra water and feed to the animals, setting the sprinklers for your garden on a timer-- but had little hopes of your own survival let alone that of your animals after being dragged deep into hell.

You didn’t bother with the detached garage, but pulled up right next to the porch. You were exhausted, and you could only imagine everyone else was as well. The truck seemed all too happy to shut off with a rough sound. You looked over at Ollie, who was still looking at everything in wonder, though Poppy was carefully extracting herself from his grip. “You okay there kiddo?”

He looked back at you, “This is where you live?” he asked instead, voice full of awe. “It looks like it's from a fairytale book!”

It really wasn't, it's a typical farm for this part of the country. Hardly one of the fanciest or beautiful, just simple and sturdy.

“Let's get inside and get settled for the night,” you offer instead of remarking. “I should have the stuff for some sandwiches at least.”

“Sand…witches?” Ollie repeated, sounding confused.

“Meat and bread,” Poppy answered, unbuckling the boy. “Sometimes with ketchup, mustard, mayo, cheese.”

“So, food? I like food!”

Your heart ached. You knew the boy had been raised in the factory, hidden away and protected from the Prototype or hungry ‘toys’. The fact he had was a miracle enough--especially considering how small and thin he was. He had to be ten at the youngest, but barely looked as if he was half that age.

The passenger door opened, which considering how much trouble Kissy had with her hands, was surprising. Yet the pink creature reached in and pulled both Ollie and Poppy out of the truck.

Dogday waited for you as you exited the truck, your legs shaky from the long ride. However, his attention wasn't on you but the dark sky above. It was a new moon, meaning the Milky Way arched overhead with dozens of stars. A glance over to Kissy and the others showed they too were amazed by the stars--you could hear Poppy trying to explain all of it to Ollie quietly.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” You said as you stepped closer to Dogday.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I-I’ve never seen the night sky like this.”

“Well, now you can see it every night,” you said, shouldering his arm lightly. “Best place for meteor showers too.”

Dogday tore his gaze away and looked down at you. “Are you sure we can stay here, angel?”

“Of course. As long as you want, even if it's forever.” Granted, you didn't know where else they would go, especially Dogday and Kissy. But you didn't want to assume anything either, or make them feel trapped.

His hand found yours, so giant compared to yours but soft and warm. “Forever it is then.”

You felt your cheeks warm against the chilly night air as you laughed self-consciously. “Right, you might wanna sleep on that kind of decision, ‘Day.”

Two: Sleep

You woke slowly, feeling warm and cozy. Something soft was surrounding you, with the faintest hint of vanilla. At first you thought maybe you were wrapped up in a thick blanket, but when you opened your eyes to matted brown fur you realized it was Dogday instead, his arms wrapped around you and holding you close as if you were the toy. You could feel him breathe softly, each inhale and exhale caressing your skin softly.

(You didn't want to think about the amalgamation of organic and inorganic parts inside of him. You saw enough when you helped attach his legs to leave you with nightmares.)

For once, Dogday looked relaxed. Dark eyes closed and his smile softened. You couldn’t resist running your fingers along his face. He had been one of the few you had instantly trusted in that hell. One of the few that never even seemed to think about harming you.

Poppy had used you for her own means, not giving you a real choice ever since you released her. Kissy Missy had always been kind but you had soon realized that her partnership with Poppy may have played a part in it. And of course there was Ollie, though it took a while for you to trust the faceless voice on the phone, especially after you learned that the Prototype could mimic voices and Ollie had a very… peculiar way of phrasing things.

Yet Dogday… he had raised his head, and saw you as someone special as soon as his gaze met yours. Begged you to leave him behind and to run when the miniature Critters started to swarm. Actively fought to defend and protect you despite missing the lower half of his body at first.

And ever since, had refused to leave your side. While everyone else did their part, he determinedly stuck with you. Even last night after everyone finished eating and all anyone could think about was sleep. Kissy happily cuddled Poppy and Ollie in her arms as she climbed up the stairs to claim a bedroom. You expected Dogday to follow suit…

“Hey, uh, angel?” Dogday said softly, sounding rather shy. He had stuck around to help you clean up, though all that consisted of was a few plates, cups, and butter knives. Though the number of sandwiches consumed had emptied out all the bread, lunchmeat, cheese, as well as peanut butter and jelly in your pantry.

“Yeah?” You were getting used to the nickname, though you still felt as if it was undeserved the way he said it. As if you truly were an angel from heaven, sent to save.

“... Could I sleep with you?”

His question surprised you, and you almost dropped the cup you had been washing. Thankfully he quickly grabbed it before it could fall very far. “Sleep…with me?”

Granted those last two… days? You weren't sure, but you and him had found safe spots to watch out for each other while the other slept. It was the only time during the whole ‘adventure’ you managed to sleep. Wrapped up in his arms, feeling him breathe, listening to his heartbeat. It reminded you weren't alone anymore.

“I… don't want to be alone,” he continued, drying off the cup and placing it on the shelf. “Even if I know you and the others are nearby, I…”

Your surprise shifted into sympathy and understanding. Kissy, Poppy, and Ollie were together… and now that you thought about it, being alone right now did not fill you with any sort of ease.

“Yeah. I mean, if you don't mind cuddling close. My bed is barely big enough for two normal-sized people, let alone one me and one… well, Dogday.”

His smile widened. “With you? Never.”

Dogday shifted in his sleep, turning his head to nuzzle into your hand before his eyes slowly opened. His smile widened slightly, and you heard more than saw his tail thump against the bed which in turn made you smile wider as well. “Morning,” you greeted softly.

“Good morning, angel,” he said just as softly. “Did you sleep well?”

“Best sleep in a long time,” you admitted with a slight laugh. Trying to sleep in the factory had been a scary experience. Finding small places to hide long enough to close your eyes. Waking and jumping at every little sound. Plagued by endless nightmares.

And you had been there for just a few days, a week at most.

“What about you?” you asked. Him and the others had lived in that hell for a decade. You didn't startle awake from him lashing out at nightmares. Which you had seen him do a few times before at the factory. You had held him in your laps as best you could, reassuring him he was okay as he broke down.

He leaned closer, nuzzling your cheek slightly. “Next to you, how could I not?”

You laughed between his flirty words and his fur tickling your skin. “You're such a flirt!”

Three: Morning After

“It's so bright outside!” Ollie gasped as he looked out the window while you worked on breakfast. Thankfully none of the eggs had spoiled, nor had any milk, meaning you were whipping up a full course of scrambled eggs and pancakes-- as well as cooking the few boxes of frozen sausages you had found in the freezer.

Dogday was currently watching them like a hawk, occasionally licking his lips as he moved them around in the skillet.

“Actually. That's cloudy. See how the sky is gray. Not blue?” Poppy pointed out, also gazing out the window. “On sunny days, it's a bright vibrant blue, and even brighter.”

“Really?” The boy looked up to you to confirm the doll's words, and you nodded your head. To think he had never seen the sky before. To be unable to tell a sunny day from a cloudy one.

“It actually looks like it could rain,” you pointed out. “Maybe we should hold off on a bath until after you have fun in the mud.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “I thought if you get caught in the rain, you'll get sick?”

“Psh, no. At least, not as long as you can dry off and warm up afterwards. It'll also give me time to look through stuff down in the basement. I think there should be some old hand me downs that should fit you.”

“A good bath can do wonders.” Poppy hopped down from the windowsill and into Kissy's hand before the giant monster also gently corralled Ollie to the table where the food was waiting. “It's been such a long time.”

“Er, excuse me for being intrusive…” you set down a towering plate of pancakes before sitting yourself. “But can you guys get wet?”

“We may not be flesh and bone anymore, but we can still enjoy a good shower,” Dogday answered as he set the plate of sausage links in front of you. “Or even a swim.”

“Why is the water white?” Ollie interrupted, looking oddly at the glass of milk Kissy poured in front of him. “I've never seen it that color before.”

“It’s milk,” Poppy answered. “You used to love it when you were a baby and we had access to some.”

Ollie sniffed suspiciously before taking a drink… and then nearly gulping the entire glass in one go. You took the opportunity of everyone chuckling at the boy to split the sausage between the others. Kissy noticed first and clapped excitedly, her mit-like hands muffling the sound.

“Angel,” Dogday sighed, though you weren't sure he was touched or exasperated. Or maybe both.

“Shh, I saw the way you were eyeing them. I can always buy more when I go to town.”

He was silent for a while before taking a bite of the sausage, savoring it unlike Kissy who had all but inhaled hers. Ollie was following Kissy’s example with the banquet of food, while Poppy was benign as dainty as could be, cutting everything into tiny bites, even for her smaller size.

You couldn’t help but savor your own food, feeling rather happy and optimistic about the future.

[enbysanavi]

RE:V lords and Mother Miranda with a ghoul reader

Alcina Dimitrescu

There was always something off about you.

You never seemed to tire after long hours of work at her castle, you never shied away from cleaning duty in the dungeon like the others and most importantly you seemed to never bleed.

As a vampire that was one of the first things she noticed about you but never thought to bring it up.

She noticed your lack of heartbeat and lack of smell that usually came with the maids.

Normally she would just leave it alone because you did your job well and did tasks that nobody else wanted to do.

One night when everything was winding down for the evening, she heard the sound of a window breaking.

Usually she would summon her daughters to deal with the intruder but due to it being a colder winter she opted to do it herself.

When she got down to the kitchen she was surprised to see that the intruder’s chest had caved in and his cheeks were sunken. It was like all the air was sucked out of him and he was left as a husk.

She was even more surprised to see you there with an expression similar to a child who got caught stealing cookies.

You had small almost see through horns poking out from your hair. Your skin had turned to a pale grey and you had claws.

“Well, this is a surprise turn of events but not an unexpected one.”

You two had a long chat about what exactly you were.

You explained that you were an air ghoul and escaped from hell to enjoy life on the mortal side of the earth.

She asked if you were happy with serving her and you said yes. After all you got fed human food, were surrounded by humans and got to be in the presence of other unearthly creatures.

You also said that you sucked the air from the intruder because he scared you when you were trying to get a midnight snack.

She sighs and realised that you may be just as much of a handful as her daughters

Karl Heisenberg

Heisenberg smelled smoke when he entered the factory. It wasn’t an uncommon smell but he smelled it more that usual.

When he found you sitting with some of his creations with your arm on fire and marshmallows dangling above the flame he does a double take.

“What. The. Fuck???”

He is so confused.

From what he knew you were just a normal human and yet you were roasting marshmallows off of a flame that covered your entire arm.

You wave at him before tossing a roasted marshmallow at his head.

He catches it and eats it

He shoes away his creations before sitting on a crate in front of you with a bewildered expression.

He asks for an explanation and you tell him your a fire ghoul but just wanna chill up on earth for a bit.

Bewilderment is replaced with excitement.

You bet he wants to figure out a way to combine his powers and yours for an ultimate power up.

Heisenberg is a man of many talents and one of those talents is causing mayhem against Mother Miranda.

“Just think: flaming metal! It would be great!”

You go along with it because of course! This man wants to cause chaos and what else are you supposed to do up on the surface?

Donna Beneviento

Angie had finally convinced Donna to hire a new gardener.

After the last gardener died she was hesitant to allow anyone else close to her again but the plants were growing too much and she could barely keep up.

You had been on the earth for a few months now and decided that staying close to your element would be the best plan so seeing that add for a gardener was a blessing.

When you first met Donna and Angie you were taken to their uniqueness and enjoyed working for the two.

Angie was seen around you more than Donna but that didn’t mean you couldn’t sense her.

She walked on the very ground that you started to tame and once the earth around her mansion was yours, nobody could sneak up on you.

Donna truely figured out something was different about you when you purposely stepped out of Donna’s way when she was supposed to be invisible to your eyes.

Donna kept a closer eye on you through her dolls. Often gifting you one in return for your hard work.

Through the eyes of her dolls was when she first saw you.

Your green skin and brown ram-like horns that curled around your face. The way that the ground moulded and changed to your will was terrifying and interesting to Donna.

She hesitantly started to show herself to your non-green and horned form whenever you would tend to the garden in front of her house.

The conversations would be pretty one sided but as time went on Donna spoke more and more to you, eventually asking about the green skin and horns.

You confess that you’re not human and in fact an earth ghoul that just wanted to become more in touch with your element.

Donna couldn’t help but feel better that your reasoning was so pure.

She offered for you to stay in your natural form if it was more comfortable for you and reassured you than nobody would see you like that if you didn’t want them to.

You felt comforted by Donna’s presence and openness about your natural appearance and you only hopped she felt the same when she showed you her scar.

Angie loved to sit on your shoulders and hold onto your horns, always saying how she could ride the mighty ram into battle.

Salvatore Moreau

It starts small when he notices that someone else is in his waters.

He and his fish are usually the only thing that swim in the village since the villagers are too scared to.

When he spots blue skin in murky green water he gets excited at the idea of a new friend.

Spotting the blue skinned creature was easier than catching you because you were much smaller than he was.

You didn’t have a tail like he did but you could see much clearly under water and evade his capture.

It wasn’t like he wanted to hurt you, he just wanted to meet you and meet someone else who has an affinity for water.

Slowly but surely he was able to coax you out of your hiding spot and onto the shore. He was curious on how someone that looked human could crept for the blue skin and small silver horns, found it’s way into his territory.

You explained that you wanted to see the ocean but only got this far and that you were at water ghoul.

He excitedly told you that there were other lakes around the village that he could take you to.

When you confessed that you only liked his lake because there weren’t any people except for him and his fish he tried to make the water as enjoyable as possible for you.

Mother Miranda

Since you first came to the village she knew you weren’t human. You looked human and ate human food but there was just a strange aura around you.

You weren’t disturbing any of her plans or experiments so she left you alone for the time being.

When you sat on top of her chapel just to get a better look at the stars, she confronted you.

She landed beside you and asked not so calmly why you were on her chapel.

You explained that you leaned no harm and just wanted to see the stars better. After all the village didn’t have the best views.

You were much more calm than anyone else.

Mother Miranda just sighed and offered to show you better spots to see the stars that weren’t on her roof.

She showed you a few places and even varied you to the top of Lady Dimitrescu’s castle because what could Alcina do? It wasn’t like she was going to say no to Miranda.

It became a little tradition for Miranda to meet you at night and watch the night sky with you.

When you confessed to being not human she said she already knew but didn’t know what you were.

You said you were a quintessence ghoul and simply wanted to see the sky.

She was impressed to see a ghoul out in the real world and asked if you could help her with her experiments.

Since you had a lot of free time in the day you agreed.

[godihatethiswebsite]

Mourning Doves

✽Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x f!reader

Johnny provides you with some comfort after your favorite hockey team loses

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

This is a little drabble I wrote for me and @ohbo-ohno after we both suffered grievous losses in the Stanley Cup playoffs tonight. I know we're supposed to be in mourning, but the brain bunnies demanded comfort so I stayed up late and wrote it myself ❤️

Also I'm biased so it's our favorite Scotsman

"I'm going to die."

"Yer not goin' tae die."

"Bury me in the garden underneath the willow tree."

"Ye havnae gone there since ya ran into that spiderweb last summer."

"The spider can have my carcass."

"Now yer jus' being a numpty."

Your face was still buried in the pillow from where you put it fifteen minutes ago, the rest of your body sprawled out on your stomach with your right arm and leg dangling off the couch like a limp ragdoll. He'd returned home to find you like this after a late night spent with the team, expecting to find you asleep by the time he got home from the bar since it was now well after midnight. Instead, he's greeted with the sight of your theatrics to having watched your favorite hockey team - the Denver Brown Bears - defeated in double overtime by the Austin Tigers.

Johnny located the remote you must've tossed in your grief and turned the TV off, setting it on the coffee table before kneeling down next to your form, running his knuckles up and down your hanging limb. "There now, hen. Dunnae fret. Ye'll get 'em next year, ah'm sure of it."

Turning your head to the side, he finally got to see the sunken expression marring your beautiful face; bloodshot eyes overflowing with tears, face flushed and splotchy from crying. You'd tried to put on a brave facade with your earlier banter, but it was obvious now that you were struggling. This was more than just a minor upset - his girl was genuinely hurting.

His brows furrowed and heart dropped in his chest to see you so devastated. He knew how much this had meant to you, the unbridled joy and excitement he'd seen you display the past few weeks as your team made it into the playoffs had only endeared him to you even more. Oh sure, he'd ribbed you for it playfully whenever he saw you curled up in the living room wearing the Bears goalie's jersey animatedly cheering on your team and throwing popcorn at a bad call, but truthfully he'd loved getting to see you so spirited, especially knowing the rough patch you'd been going through lately. Hockey had been a good distraction and it was a shame the season had to end like this for you.

He brushed a loose strand of hair from your face, damped by the moisture and sticking to your skin before moving it back behind your ear. The quiet broken whimper as he touched your cheek had him reacting on instinct, rolling you onto your side so that he could lift you up into his arms, cradling you to his chest as your hand fisted his shirt like a child would seeking comfort. What tears had slowed over time began anew now that you had him here, needing his steadiness and warmth to ground you from the onslaught of emotions pulling you down below the waves. He kept his voice soft and tone reassuring, letting you seek solace in his familiar embrace.

"Shhhh... s'alright, mo chridhe. Ah'm here. Ah've got ye..."

Carrying you down the hall, he carefully toed the bedroom door open, slipping inside the darkened room before closing it behind him with his heel. He stepped over the wrinkled clothes on the floor as he made his way over to the bed, never stopping his comforting noises as you continued to hiccup out tears, ruining his shirt with wetness from where your face stayed pressed against his collarbone.

Johnny perched himself on the edge of the bed, settling you more comfortably in his lap as the arm that had been tucked under your knees moved to rub circles into your back. He let you get all your emotions out, content to just hold you safe until the worst of it had passed. It tore at his insides to see you so depressed, wishing it was a problem he could get his hands on instead of feeling so useless for you. He'd never been very good at sitting idly by, the beast under his skin itching for a fight he could walk away bloodied from. If it wasn't for the baser need to be here for you, there's a good chance he'd be on his phone right now trying to convince the lads to take a day trip down to Austin with him for some retribution for making his girl weep.

But no. Putting his fists into an entire hockey team wouldn't change the outcome of tonight. Johnny knew you simply had to let time take it's course and eventually make it easier for you to move on past your grief.

Once your cries had quieted and tears lessened, he'd gently maneuvered you off his lap and onto the mattress, pressing a firm kiss to the crown of your head before walking over to the dresser and rooting around for something more comfortable to wear. He ignored the quiet sniffles behind him as he worked quickly to rid himself of his clothes, changing into a pair of sweats and an old army shirt before joining you back by the bed. You let him tug the Bears jersey up over your head, keeping your arms raised as he replaced it with one of his soft shirts you often loved to steal from him, dragging your pants off your legs before pulling back the comforter and motioning you to climb in.

Once you got situated in your spot, Johnny curled up right next to you and pulled you back into his hold, head resting on his chest as your limbs tangled together under the sheets. He made sure you were tucked in all nice and snuggly, heart fluttering at the familiar sensation of you nuzzling your face into him and breathing in his scent. You were still upset at the loss, but it was easier to deal with wrapped up in your lover's arms.

There weren't many problems that being with Johnny couldn't fix; he was your pillar, your rock, the one thing in this world that could find you in the darkest of depths and drag you from it's clutches up towards the surface. He radiated pure light in a way that even after all this time together still left you in total awe. He liked to say he wasn't a good man - that you deserved someone made of softer materials with less blood on their hands - but he didn't understand it no matter how hard you tried to explain.

You didn't need soft. You needed someone made of iron and shattered teeth that could fight back your inner demons. Someone with scarred knuckles and split lips who knew how to mend the tattered edges of your soul because they already had the experience stitching themselves back together with needle and thread.

So on nights like tonight when you couldn't fight your own battles...

"I really wanted them to win..."

"Ah ken, love. Ah ken. But jus' think how hard they fought fer ye. Dinnae go down easy that's fer damn sure. Be proud of yer boys, love. It's cuz of bonny lasses like yerself that they had the support and strength to get as far as they did. They'll come back swingin' - and when they do, they'll naught ask fer a better fan cheerin' them on."

...you knew you had someone right there beside you to throw the first punch and shield your body with his own.

And if you ever asked him to, he'd glady show those Tigers what happens when they encounter a pack of wolves

[ouiouimochi]

Once upon a dream

pairing/s: soshiro hoshina x reader

genre/s: fluff, romance, strangers (?) to lovers

wc: 1.9k

warning/s: use of honorifics, oonga boonga words, no beta we die like men, unintentional hoshino (hoshina fan from kaiju relax) slander, me and my unnecessary comments >:)), okay hoshina might be ooc-,

note/s: reader wears glasses and is a romantic, so like this was yet again done in different days and times so there could be inconsistencies, inspired by my dream and today’s art class funnily enough

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“—no doubt that I’d be brought back to you”

You had awakened yet again with a fuzzy feeling, quickly followed by emptiness when reality had sunken in. Every time leaving you with the want of just staying in your whimsical dreamscape— something deep down whispering for you to remain in the state of slumber forever in hopes to never ever be separated from the man in your dreams.

You didn't know him at all— a complete stranger that brought out a sense of familiarity. You can vividly remember every damndest detail from the events that took place and could easily recall everything from start to finish but not the man’s identity for some reason. You could remember his frame, silhouette, voice, and hair… but his face remained blank in your memories despite the frequency of these rendezvous.

Unable to keep to your own thoughts, you wrote the paragraphs that did more than encapsulate your feelings. With words, you built up the most enchanting castle made out of daydreams, blooming gardens of vivid emotions, a blanket of twinkling stars that held each and every wish you had— everything that one can describe straight out from fantasy. Your readers felt themselves be whisked away into the rabbit hole of your phantasms, indistinguishably blurring the line between reality and dreams.

Now, you've already made yourself a bit well-known despite being an anonymous writer under the pen name of Somni Vespera. Your alias encompassing the content of your writing— dreamy, surreal, whimsical… as if straight out of a fantasy. A modern day Salvador Dali with the pen. And this work in particular blew up quite quickly after release, greatly worrying you in regards to your anonymity, but you were able to thankfully keep your identity hidden.

In certain writing forums and communities,

readridreed882: Somni’s latest work is just *chef’s kiss*

ehEEhEE: God, how does somni do it???

1gorjusgojo: i gotta wonder where they’d been getting these ideas from though… they just feel so unreal

paragraph_palace: Unreal yeah, but fleetingly romantic

meepysheep: do they have a muse???

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As a fan of literature itself, your works did not pass by the radar of Soshiro Hoshina— if anything, someone can say he was a fan. His eyes continued to scan lines and lines of your latest writing again and again to make sure he wasn't imagining it. He was troubled with how your storytelling beyond perfectly emulated the feelings, sentiments, and experiences he had the past few months. He observed the parallels between his own dreamscape encounters and your paragraphs— a multitude of them utterly aligned.

The man wanted to contact the author to get answers to his questions, to confirm his suspicions. However, it seems impossible to do so when the said writer themself chose to stay hidden, so he can only be disappointed and settle to conclude that it was just one big coincidence.

But deep down, his heart yearned— doubting that it was just a coincidence no matter how irrational it made him seem. The ever so calm and collected vice captain of the Third Division found himself haunted by the same feeling every slumbering and waking moments.

and he never wanted it to stop.

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The sound of a tinkling bell echoes throughout the quaint cafe as you open the door. Your senses were greeted by the refreshing smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries, eyes soothed by the muted and minimalistic visuals of the interior. There was quite a bit of a line so you also queued yourself up, your eyes bringing itself up to the big menu behind the counter. However, something caught your attention first— an oh so familiar hairstyle that you've well memorized. The more you stared, the more you immediately doubted it was the mystery man in your dreams.

However, there was an itch telling you that maybe it was him despite confidently saying it can't be him. You were stuck observing this male, any outsider would’ve immediately noticed the intensity of your gaze if they do as much as take a glimpse. The man takes his place at the front of the line to get his order taken, your ears strained to try listening for his voice but unsuccessful in doing so. You waited for a while until he started to move, he turned around.

Who could blame you for immediately displaying an expression of disappointment? You really tried to hold back a grimace but failed— hopefully no one was watching you at the moment. The man who had the exact same hairstyle as the man in your dreams… looked like a man in his late 30’s. Now, you were quite the judge at times, and you criticized even yourself, but you wanted to facepalm at your stupidity. Okay fine, the man in your dream was faceless, but oh lord— he was not the one.

There were plenty of differences aside from… the face… like the height, build, and silhouette keep telling yourself that jk. You were right the first time, it was just the stupid little daydreamer in you wanting it to be him.

You might write the greatest and unrealistic of fantasies— but you admit you need to keep your delulu delusions in check.

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Kafka and Kikoru were people on a mission: to snap a photo of Vice Captain Hoshina with his eyes open. Now, the young blond didn't even know how she got dragged into this, but thanks to the old man— here she was. She thought of how stupid this was, how utterly dumb and absolutely brain-numbing it was… but she also thought how fun it'd be.

Scratch that, it was entirely idiotic of a notion to try and get the vice captain to open his eyes with the strategies Kafka came up with. Here they were in a cafe with yet another plan curated by the older male from Operations Manager Okonogi’s suggestion.

“This is stupid, we've tried a lot already!” she finally snapped, wanting to just leave the camera to the older male.

“Relax! This was from Okonogi-san who knew the Vice Captain for quite a while already…” even the ravenette sounded unsure of himself as he tried to convince the younger female.

Kikoru becomes irked, making the older male turn around to completely bicker with him. They were both unaware of their surroundings as their vice captain only amusedly watched on but unable to hear their conversation. The blonde becomes too preoccupied with arguing with the ravenette that it becomes too late for her to notice she was pushing the older male to bump into an unsuspecting person.

You fall forward and onto the tiled floor when an unexpected force collides with your back. You were not mad— if anything you were worried about the heat of every onlooker’s gaze on your fallen form. You couldn't see very well when your glasses also fell off— you were beyond embarrassed trying to pat around the ground for it.

“Here.” A voice with a soothing timbre echoed into your ears. The sound alone sends a subtle shiver down your spine with how comforting it was— just like the one you hear in your dreams. A hand offered itself in front of your face so you placed yours tentatively on top. The person then hoisted you up back on your feet as you patted yourself down for any dust. The person held out an object in your direction for you to take— it was your glasses.

Your head shot up to look at the slightly blurry figure of a male in front of you— a familiar one. You blink to try and discern more details before deciding to slip on your frames. While everything finally cleared, your eyes immediately locked into the rich burgundy orbs perfectly situated on a finely sculpted face framed by the recognizable hairstyle.

Time and reality paused and ceased to exist at that specific moment. A flash of recognition passed by both of your dumbstruck expressions as a magnetizing force seemed to pull you closer to each other— to fit into the other’s final piece. Despite only having met him now and not wanting to assume, you were sure that it was him this time around— your mysterious dream guy. It seemed like he recognized you too.

“I'm sorry… but have we met before?” your voice managed to find itself to question this male with the most captivating presence.

Hoshina blinked but did not break his gaze from yours, his eyes crinkled a bit in mirth with a charming smile on his lips.

“I don't think so but I believe yer' the woman of my dreams” fuckign screaming atm his accent managed to leak out. Literally—days and nights, no matter how short. When he closed his eyes, he was always greeted by the loveliest sights and treated to the most wonderful of experiences his reality couldn't offer. The weirdest was he vividly remembers every little detail without fail after awakening— the feeling of the rain, the freshly cut blades of grass, the soft hands holding his own, the smile that gave him indescribable warmth. Every waking moment entailed being filled with emotions he was sure he wouldn't feel in his entire life due to the nature of his job. but here he was, feeling the exact same fondness as he was faced with the oh so familiar stranger he made memories with in what he thought were just fantasies.

You bit your lip, trying to stop the smile creeping up your lips. Wanting to confirm, you started uttering the promise that remained constant in all of your dreams,

“When the blossoms are shed to start anew…” you tried to remain steady in your locked gazes, crossing your fingers to allow fate to give its blessings. A few moments beat by, your heart thumping in your ears as this man’s mouth opened slightly in surprise. Your hope started to diminish with every ticking second, until he uttered the very words you wanted to hear.

“..no doubt that I’d be brought back to you”

Your heart was about to burst with how quickly it pumped blood into flushing your cheeks with a healthy glow when you smiled so earnestly at the technically still a stranger man. He reciprocates, your enthusiasm was quite contagious.

“Soshiro Hoshina, m’ lady” he gently took one of your hands to bring it up to his lips, a giggle escaping your own pair. Everything was practically falling into place even if it seemed strange to an outsider's perspective.

“(Y/n) (L/n),” you switched your hands’ position to rest his on top of yours before kissing the back of it, responding in kind to his earlier gesture, “Great to meet you.”

I tried

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Unbeknownst to you two, Kikoru and Kafka were just gawking the whole time. Both of them wanted to profusely apologize immediately after realizing what they’d done, but their vice captain beat them into offering the fallen person help. Everything got stuck at the back of their throats as they witnessed everything, absolutely stunned. The young blonde blushing at watching something that felt… intimate.

But they unfortunately completely missed out on the opportunity to snap the picture for the mission. Guess the Tachikawa Base would be welcoming two new additions of people with the vice captain’s bowl cut.

༚⁠˖✧⁠*◝.༚⁠˖✧⁠*◝.༚⁠˖✧⁠*◝.༚⁠˖✧⁠*◝.༚⁠˖✧⁠*◝.༚⁠˖✧⁠*◝.༚⁠˖✧⁠*◝.༚⁠˖✧⁠*

taglist bbs: @ryescapades (mwa for helping me decide), @justwinginglife, @iamjellyfish,

notes: funny how I initially wrote it like they remained on the floor the whole time this shit happened until I had to revise it, yes welcome to delulu where the outside world just doesn't exist anymore ehe (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠). also feel dumb for only discovering the thing that makes the font size smaller just now *facepalm*

[suugarbabe]

d.r. x reader

prompt: heyy is it possible to request a draco malfoy fic where the reader and draco are like childhood best friends and smth happens (with his parents of something) and the reader sorta comforts him? and he realises how much the reader means to him? thank youu

an: I cannot find the person who requested this, it was in a comment of another post so i hope you find it

You could read Draco’s emotions like the palm of your hand; it was one of the perks of knowing him since before you could even walk. Others always viewed Draco as cold and icy, but you knew it was all just a facade to please his father. 

Draco was your soulmate, not romantically, but platonically. Some would call you twin flames. He knew all your deepest secrets, and you his. These were often shared in your ‘hiding space’ in Draco’s family’s back garden because it was the one space neither Lucius or your father would go to look for either of you. 

When you were both eleven, Draco has fallen down the back steps of Malfoy manor, harshly scraping his knees and tearing the new trousers his parents had just gotten him. Tears welled in his eyes as he anxiously spoke of how disappointed his father would be in him and how he would call him weak. You had calmed him down with a tight hug, something he grew used to with you, before using your wand to heal his cuts and mend his trousers. 

When you had gotten your first heartbreak in year two, Draco held on to you in the Slytherin common room while you sobbed, sending Mattheo and Theo off to deal with the tosser that had broken you to pieces. He hated seeing you so emotionally destroyed, fuming as he rubbed soothing circles on your back before you fell asleep in his arms after finished crying. 

The two of you were always there for each other, no matter how big or little the circumstance. So when he walked into the common room with sunken eyes and slouching shoulders, you knew immediately something was wrong. 

He had come to join the others where they were seated. Giving small nods to those that acknowledged his presence. When he finally met eyes with you, your eyebrows were knitted. He did his best to keep his face stoic, but still you looked quickly to the hall leading toward the dorm before raising your eyebrows, indicating to Draco to meet you in his dorm. 

There was no point in refusing or fighting it, Draco knew this. If he were to try and avoid talking to you he’d likely find himself in a binding spell and being levitated to where you desired much like in year three when he tried to act like ‘one of the lads’. 

So that was why he found himself immediately following you down the hall, head hung low and hands in his pockets. When you reached his door you held it open, ushering him in first before you closed it, placing a locking charm on it for privacy. 

Draco stood in the middle of the room, still in the same position. You walked over to his bed, toeing off your shoes and climbing up on the four poster and laying down, head on the pillows. You opened your arms wide and spread your legs so you looked kind of like a starfish. 

“Dray,” you called his name, causing his head to look up in your general direction. When he saw your position he immediately walked over, shedding his jacket and kicking off his shoes before climbing up. He crawled in between your legs until his head was even with your sternum. 

He slowly let his body weight fall on top of you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You ran your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp before running your hand down his back as far as you can reach and back, rubbing his shoulders absentmindedly as well. 

You could feel him physically relax on top of you and after a few moments you decided to finally ask him the cause of his stress. “Wanna tell me what’s got you in such a sour mood?” your tone was slightly teasing, wanting to keep the ease that you were developing. 

“I always appear in a sour mood, darling. That’s just my face,” you smiled at his cheeky response, glad that he was feeling at least a little bit better to make a joke. You gave his scalp another quick scratch, silently indicating for him to keep talking and tell you the real reason he appeared so grumpy. 

 With a deep sigh, Draco started to explain to you what was going on, “It’s my father. I know I should be used to the amount of pressure he puts on me for everything, but with everything in our world getting more intense, I think he’s getting reprimanded more and taking it out on me. Mom tries to help, tries to tell me not to take it personally but you’ve heard how he talks to me.” 

He wrapped his arms around you tighter and you wrapped your arms lightly around his shoulders, holding him closer to your body. “You are so much more than what he tries to say about you, Dray. You are so smart, smarter than I’ll ever really tell you,” you teased, earning a small chuckle from Draco, “you’re also incredibly loyal, very cunning and sometimes even funnier than Theo, but don’t tell him I said that.” 

“I’m definitely going to tell him you said that,” Draco turned his head, chin resting on your stomach as his face formed a smirk. You pinched his cheek as you giggled at him causing him to tickle your side. You squirmed under him and he popped himself up on his knees, using both hands now to tickle up and down your sides. 

“D-Draco, stop,” you giggled, “can’t breathe.” He sat back on his hunches as you pushed yourself up to a sitting position, “You’re the absolute worst Draco Malfoy.” The smile on your face didn’t match up with your teasing words. 

“Interesting, that’s not what you were saying a moment ago. You were basically the president of the Draco Malfoy fan club,” his teasing smirk only made you smile wider. You slyly placed your hand behind you, grabbing hold of the edge of his pillow. Draco continued to speak, only to be cut off by you swinging the pillow and hitting his shoulder. 

“Oh, darling, big mistake,” Draco reached over your shoulder grabbing the other pillow to get his revenge. But you didn’t care, you were just happy to see the smile back on his face.

[moonlightazriel]

Chapter 18: Never forget you /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Y/N attend one last event before she returns to her home permanently.

Word Count: 3,6K

Warnings: SMUT and angst...

Notes: This chapter was hard to write heheeh and in my head they're dancing to Por Una Cabeza at that scene hahahaha

Main Masterlist

Worlds Apart Masterlist

Y/N sighed, her hand high in the air, unsure if she should knock on his door or not. It was almost a week since they defeated Mantyx, Azriel’s injuries took longer to heal this time, and despite wanting to see him the second they departed, she gave space for him and his family.

She wanted to see him, feeding on the crumbles of information that Nesta gave her everyday. The oldest Archeron, alongside Elain, tried to convince her to go see him sooner, but she didn’t want to bother, and some alone time was what she needed after opening her heart like that for him.

50 years had passed since she allowed a male to have a hold of her heart and now she was scared, she had given it to him without even noticing, she was his but they couldn’t stay together, would life always be so unfair to her? She had to go back and keep Asterin’s legacy, she would do her duty. 

“He’s been asking for you every day.” A voice startled her and she turned to see Cassian leaning on the wall behind her, his eyes scanning her up and down. “Why’d you never come?” 

“He needed time to heal.” She shyly replied, like she had been caught doing something she shouldn't.

“He needed you.” Cassian simply said and she felt her heart squeeze in her chest, guilty spreading like poison and making her guts twist. “Don’t make him wait any longer.” He tipped his chin in the direction of the door and she nodded, raising her hand and knocking three times. 

At the sound of Azriel’s raspy voice allowing her in, she stepped inside, being greeted by a wave of his shadows eagerly assessing her, travelling up and down her body, leaving goosebumps in their trace. She giggled at the feeling, her eyes meeting him as she did it.

“I thought you had left without saying goodbye.” He joked but she could see the pain reflected in his hazel orbs. 

“I’m sorry, I thought you needed space.” Azriel patted the empty spot by his side and she quickly sat, basking in the smell of him that filled her senses, warmth irradiated from his body and she almost melted in it, she had missed him. 

“From their constant worry and not even letting me lift a fork, maybe. But never from you.” His scarred hand slides over the soft fabric of the blankets that covered him, finding their resting spot on top of hers.

“I didn’t realise you wanted me here.” She admitted and Azriel laughed a little.

“After you just told me you loved me? There’s no other place that I would rather be than by your side.” She felt the blood heating her cheeks and Azriel marvelled at the sight of her odd blush, blue suited her so well. “Did you really mean it?” 

He had to ask, he had to know. Despite understanding that she needed time to face her feelings towards him, an insecure part of him wondered if he had imagined it, if she wasn’t saying out of pity, he had sunken in those thoughts everyday, but seeing her right now, made all of his worries vanish. 

“Of course I mean it.” She spoke so quickly, like thinking otherwise was such an outrageous thought. “You have my heart.”

“Then I'll gladly keep it.” He said and pulled her to lean on his chest, she rested her head above his heart, hearing the soft beats of it, trying to focus on anything else other than the sound of her heart breaking even further. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

After visiting him for the first time, she couldn't find it in herself to be away from him. As he got better, they strolled through the gardens, sparred in the training ring in the House of Wind and sat together by the Rainbow. 

But as much as she wanted to stay in his arms forever, there was a gnawing feeling in her gut, telling her that she was failing and that she didn't belong there. That he would eventually get sick of her and she would be alone again, those thoughts coming late at night when she couldn't sleep, her eyes scanning his soft features, trying to commit everything to memory while she still could. 

Every night she would pretend to be asleep, trying to keep her frantic thoughts calm, but to no avail. As Nesta had mastered the art of opening the gate in Ramiel, the day of her departure was getting closer, making her uneasy. 

There was still one more thing that she needed to do before going back, and that was to attend the coronation of Eris. As soon as the Vanserras went back to their court, Eris finally gathered the courage to challenge his father, the old fae had lost everything to his son, and was exiled to Mother knows where, so he could never harm anyone again. 

The invite included the whole inner circle of Rhysand, and Lucien made it extra clear that he wanted her there, and Y/N couldn't say no to him, she could never say no to him. So a day after the celebrations, they would all gather one last time, to say their goodbyes to her. 

She didn't know if she would ever find a way back, the thought of leaving everything behind was something she tried not thinking about often, cuz it hurt her deeply. Never seeing Azriel again, not being able to join the Valkyries in training, not learning from Elain as she had promised she would. All of those things chirped away bits of her heart, and she would never recover them. She would miss this place. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The winds of the Autumn Court carried a soft smell of leaves and maple. The soft hustling of the trees mixed with the melody the band was playing made the whole atmosphere feel warm and magical. 

The guests dressed in orange and earthy tones, she wore a terracotta dress, with a tight corset and a flowy tulle skirt. Her hair was pinned away from her face with silver accessories in the shape of leaves and little makeup painted her face. 

Y/N gripped Azriel's arm tighter as a cold breeze made her shiver, his hazel eyes turning towards her to check if she was okay, she gave him a big smile, one he would guard in his heart forever, she looked beautiful like that, with the faelights making her skin glow. 

Something in his chest sparked with life when he saw her approaching him back at the Night Court as they got ready to leave. Since he woke up after the battle against Mantyx, it was like something was missing from his mind, blurry moments where he couldn't remember for sure what had happened and he was still trying to get those memories back. 

They sat beside Nesta and Cassian, Rhys and Feyre were among the other High Lords and Elain sat with Lucien in the part reserved for family only. A priest had introduced Eris, the male walking in the corridor towards his throne. He knelt in front of the priest, professing his vows of putting the people first and being the best High Lord he could for his Court. 

The guests stood and bowed their heads towards the male as the crown rested atop his head and he sat on his throne, a proud smile gracing his features as he thanked everyone for coming and gave them a speech. 

Eris crossed the corridor again, each row of guests followed him outside where a feast was waiting for them. Around the whole Court, similar feasts were being held so everyone could celebrate the coronation as one. 

“Who would've thought that the Autumn Court could be so nice?” Nesta spoke, sipping on her  champagne. 

“With that fucker away to the confines of hell, it's certainly a decent place now.” Cassian replied, lifting his glass in a toast. “To never having to deal with Beron again.”

The four of them raised their glasses and giggled as it touched, the glasses clinking together. Food started to be served and they started to eat.

“Do you think we can dance after?” Azriel shyly asked and Y/N turned to him, those beautiful eyes looking at him with curiosity. 

“Yeah, of course.” She replied and saw how he blushed. 

“After I saw you with Lucien at the Hewn City, I knew I had to learn how to dance with you.” He told her and winked towards Nesta who had a grin on her face as she silently watched their exchange.

“You learned how to dance for me?” She breathed out and Azriel nodded. 

She didn't even give him time to think, dropping her fork and removing the napkin from her lap, she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the dancefloor. 

His hand circled her waist and the other grabbed hers, and as a more slow, passionate rhythm started to play, they danced along with it. The violin guided their movements, their eyes never leaving each other as they moved around. Their feet slid along the floor as Azriel spun her around. It was like the rest of the party didn't exist and they were the only two in the world. 

For someone as tall and strong as Azriel, his movements were like a river, and he moved graciously around, Nesta certainly had done a very great job in teaching him. The other couple soon joined them as Nesta couldn't hold herself back any longer, the only two couples on the dancefloor as the other guests watched. 

His grip on her was firm as he guided them. The four of them doing their moves, Nesta's and Y/N’s skirts brushing as the females spun really close but never touching, not ruining the other's dance. The song came to an end, and Azriel was panting as he leaned over her arched form, like a bow ready to snap. Her scent filled his nose and messed with his head.

His nose slowly slid along her exposed neck and she shivered at the touch. It took everything in him to remember they weren't alone as he helped her to her feet and the guests applauded them, some getting up to join the dance as a new song started. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

She took a deep breath, holding her hair in a bun atop her head, her back against the railing as she eyed the stars.

“Do you really have to leave?” Lucien asked as he sipped from a cup of whiskey. The two had sneaked out while Elain danced with Azriel and Nesta. 

She looked down on the balcony, those tiny figures dancing in the distance. And she turned back to her friend and the concerned filling his gaze.

“I have to…” Lucien nodded his head in understanding.

“I will miss you.” The male said, pulling her towards him for a tight hug. She wrapped him in her arms, feeling the tears clouding her vision as she felt his warmth, his golden heart thrumming against her chest. 

“You have no idea how I'm glad we met, I'll miss you too, Luci.” The male smiled at the nickname. 

“Me too, witchling, me too.” The balcony door opened and a smiling Elain entered followed by Azriel. Her hands smoothed over the fabric of her dress and she looked at Y/N, her kind brown eyes filled with sadness. 

“We'll leave you two alone.” She said, grabbing Lucien by the arm and dragging the male with her.

“Are you feeling better?” Azriel asked and she nodded. 

“I just needed some fresh air.” The male nodded, joining her against the stones that formed the balcony. “You put up quite a show down there.” She smiled at him.

“Did you enjoy my dancing skills?” He leaned towards her, his hands caging her hips against the balcony. 

“Very much.” Her breath got caught in her throat as his lips started to kiss the skin of her neck, sucking and biting gently. 

“How much?” He asked against her neck and she shivered. 

“To the point that all I could think was riding you right in the middle of the dancefloor.” Azriel grinned with that and stood again to look at her. 

“Then hold on tight.” He warned and she held the collar of his attire, the Shadowsinger just told Rhys that they would leave and winnowed them back to his room in the House of Wind. 

Her mouth was on his in a second, exploring hungrily as her hands roamed around, removing the coat and bursting the buttons out of their confinement to expose his chest to her. 

His shadows went to work, unlacing the corset that held her dress in place, eagerly working to strip her out of it as quickly as they could. Their tongues clashed against each other, making it hard to breathe as they fought for dominance. 

Her iron claws sliding up and down his abs, making him twitch with anticipation. As soon as her dress pooled at her feet, she stepped out of it. Her kisses trailing down to his neck and down his body, until she was kneeling at eye level with his crotch, her hands working to remove his belt and pants. 

Azriel shivered as he stood, her velvety mouth wrapped around his cock as it spring free from his breeches. He closed his eyes as he felt her taking him inch by inch, until she couldn't fit it anymore. Bobbing her head and cupping his balls, making him groan as pleasure builded up on his body. 

She licked the vein on the side, her tongue playing with the slip of his tip as she masturbated the rest with her hand. Drool leaked from the corners of her mouth as she took him again, fastening her movements until Azriel was a moaning mess, his hand clutched tightly to her scalp, guiding her movements until his cock twitched, hot jets of cum down her throat, she licked him clean, releasing it with a loud pop.

Azriel cupped her cheek, as she batted her lashes at him. He helped her up again, pulling her in for a kiss, feeling his taste on her tongue. He wanted to taste her so bad, but she pushed him to the bed. She removed her pants, her glorious breasts already exposed as she wore no bra underneath the dress. And as she sank down on him, taking him in her warm cunt, Azriel swore he had reached paradise. 

He sat as she rode him, his mouth attached to her breasts, switching from one to the other as he sucked and played with her hard nipples. Her arms caged him against her as she threw her head back in pleasure, feeling her orgasm building in her belly. 

She rolled her hips, angling her body so he would hit deeper inside her. Her lips were open and she moaned loudly, feeling Azriel hit her g spot every damn time, she was so stuffed of his cock that she could die there and she would do it happily. 

“I love you.” She said in between heavy breaths, Azriel looked at her, his heart beating fast in his chest..

“Say it again.” He demanded and she more than happily obligated. 

“I love you, Azriel.” The male lost his composure. 

He pushed his thumb into her mouth and she wrapped her tongue around it, wetting it for him. Azriel slid a hand in between them, finding her bundle of nerves on the apex of her thighs, rubbing circles until she couldn't hold any longer, her movements becoming sloppy as she came with a loud cry of his name. 

Azriel held her fragile body, snapping his hips up until he was spilling inside her, his hot cum dripping from her cunt and on his thighs, making her pant and wince as her sensitive walls tried to go back to normal. 

That night, they loved each other until the sun rose, lost In each other's body until they couldn't even lift a finger, tiredness weighing their bodies down as they laid to finally sleep. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

It was midday when they woke up, getting lost in each other again as they showered. Azriel silently helped her into her leathers, strapping her cloak and her sword for her as she adjusted her hair in a braid. 

The whole family waited for them, and as they sat to have a meal together, she could feel the sadness lingering around, she didn't want to leave but she had to, and by the looks of it, none of them wanted her to go back to. If things weren't so complicated.

Azriel didn't say a thing as he sat behind her on Meraxes, the wyvern silently flying towards Ramiel where the rest of them would winnow. She watched Velaris, the beautiful city getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared from her sight. She would miss it so much. 

Meraxes landed on the side of the mountain, his claws digging on the stone like they did on their first time at the House of Wind, that felt like a distant memory now. 

“I hate having to do it.” Nesta said as they approached. She held the wyrd keys in between trembling fingers, she didn't want to see her friend leave but no one would force her to stay. 

“It's what she decided, Nes.” Feyre said. 

“As the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court we thank you for helping us to get rid of a great threat for us. Your name will never be forgotten. As your friends, we will miss you.” Rhysand said, pulling her for a hug, being joined by Feyre. 

“You're strong and you have a great heart, never forget that.” Feyre whispered in her ear and she felt the tears getting harder to contain. 

“We're going to miss you in training.” Gwyn said and Emerie embraced the two females.

“Thank you for sharing what you knew with us, you would be a great Valkyrie.” The Illyrian female said and Y/N hugged them tightly. 

“It's going to be weird not buying him sheeps every day. Be safe out there.” Cassian said, pulling her for a hug as well. Tears now streamed freely on her face. 

“I never got the chance to teach you how to garden.” Elain said sadly, wiping her tears from her brown eyes. “Thank you for putting some sense in me, I couldn't be happier and with the right person.”

“Take care of him, Elain.” She held the middle Archeron sister's hand. 

“I promise.” The female said, and as in true Night Court style, the two felt their skin prick and Y/N looked at Elain's arm, where a fox carrying a rose in its mouth appeared, a matching one on herself, sealing their promise. 

“You still can stay with us, I'm sure Jurian and Vassa don't mind.” Lucien said, holding her so tight that she couldn't breath. 

“Tell them that I'll miss them too. Be happy Lucien, don't let anyone take anything from you ever again.” Lucien nodded.

“Never.” She smiled at him and he kissed her forehead. 

Nesta inserted the key into the slit, energising the gate with her power. A light appeared, like a beacon in the darkness. She had shown them what Erilea looked like, so Nesta kept that in mind and as Y/N looked up, she could see a bright sunny day on the other side. 

“If you ever need us, I will get you back.” Nesta said, pulling her for one last hug, she hated this, she wished they could have convinced her to stay. 

“Thank you Nes, you're a true friend.” She wiped the female's tears and Nesta laughed in between her cry. She loved Y/N.

The female lastly approached a quiet Azriel, he dreaded this moment but he would never do anything to make her unhappy, so he pulled her for a hug. Cupping her face in between his hands, he would never forget her. His shadows caressed her cheek and she giggled. 

“I love you, thank you for loving me too.” She said and he leaned his forehead against hers, kissing her passionately before he let her go.

“Even though this was all the time we had, I'm glad we had it at all. I love you, Y/N Blackbeak, and I always will.” And then she knew, she could never love anyone ever again because her heart would be here, with him, as long as she lived. 

He watched her climb Meraxes, flying towards the gap in the world. His head started to pound as the memories from that day with Mantyx filled his head, the missing pieces from the puzzle he was trying to complete. Clear as the day on the other side, he remembered. 

Mantyx said he would break the bond, the bond that tied the two together for the rest of their lives, and it was in pure agony that Azriel watched his mate disappear in that gate, his knees collapsing on the floor as he sobbed. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

As Y/N fell through the worlds, once again landing upside down, she groaned, feeling her empty chest and that bond alongside her soul. She looked around, for some reason she was sent to Terrasen, Orynth glowing in the distance. 

And as she took in the sight of that familiar place, breathed the air of her own world, she wished that Azriel had been selfish enough to beg her to stay.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

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[sfehvn]

new religion part 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

A/N: Thank you all for being so patient! This has been sitting in my drafts half-done for a looong time. Hope you enjoy! Xx

Rating: M (18+ minors DNI)

CW: Pregnancy

Word count: 2,347

Characters: soft!ascended!Astarion x fem!au!Tav

━─━────༺༻────━─━

The agony that coursed through cold veins was not unfounded. Astarion watched on with helpless eyes as you lay in bed, your condition only worsening through the days that had passed. Skin that had previously whispered the touch of light seemed much paler than it had before this sickness befell you. Hadn’t it? Yes, he was certain of it. Deep bags kissed under your eyes like bruises of a cruel fate, hair once silken to the touch had become brittle and flat. An emaciated picture of what you had been just days prior lay curled on the bed. If Astarion hadn’t known better, he would assume you hadn’t moved at all from your position since climbing into that bed after returning from the boutique. He had been the one to force you to bathe and stroll through the garden; of course you’d moved. The pain hung deep in his stomach but he refused to let it take him prey. What you were experiencing was far worse than any discomfort he may be feeling.

Three days.

It had only been three days, yet it felt like an eternity. It felt as if he had borne witness to your undoing in such a mercilessly short amount of time. A sadistic reminder of how fragile mortals were. Of how fragile his flower was. How barbarous the outcome; Astarion finally felt so deeply for a being other than himself, only to have it ripped away from tightly grasped hands. He had restrained the urge to maim and destroy you, allowed his love for you to flourish in its haste, yet had still proved to be your inevitable downfall. The wretched thing dwelled in your womb. The disgust ebbed and flowed deep in his gut. All the while he knew the culprit of your condition; he wouldn’t dare utter a word until it had been confirmed. An unspoken battle; should he be forthright with the circumstance? No doubt you would wish to brave the godsforsaken gestation, your longing for motherhood had been made abundantly clear. Stubbornness had been one of the many traits that had made Astarion’s unbeating heart grow fonder of you; in this plight, it very well may be your undoing.

From Astarion’s peripheral, a chambermaid enters the room, awaiting permission to address him. He nods silently in approval, eyes never leaving your debilitated form. “Master, he is here. Shall I see him here?”

His eyes falter from you to glance at the thrall. “You may. Clear the halls on your way out. I expect not a single interruption from anyone while he works. I trust you’ll let the others know of the agonizing centuries to follow if my request is disobeyed.” Though his voice was firm, there was a hint of fear masked beneath the threats. Fear of what fate awaits his lover, fear of what has yet to come, fear of the unknown.

“Yes, master.” She agreed before swiftly seeing her way out. There were no games when it came to Astarion and she did not wish to be in his line of fire if the matter at hand didn’t resolve to his liking.

Astarion steps up to the bed, stroking disheveled pieces of hair from your sunken face. “He is here, my treasure.” Soft words were met with a weak nod, eyes shut in an attempt to stop the spinning you felt in your head. An unwelcome thought made its way into his mind, which he hastily pushed down as far as he could. A corpse you began to resemble.

A tall lanky man makes his entrance. Dressed in a robe that looked centuries too old, wiry hair wisped from the sides of a misshapen ignoble hat, and shoes that seemed to be worn through the soles. He looked every bit a beggar who Astarion would pay no mind to under typical circumstances. Magic radiated in powerful lulls from the stranger, an aura of importance despite his unseemly appearance. “Sir Ancunin, a pleasure.” The man regards him nasally, though his eyes are fixed on you. They seemed to scatter over your frail body in assessment. “May I?”

Edvund Luoguarde. Every piece of unbiased literature regarding dhampirs Astarion had managed to scrounge up had been written by the man in front of him. Not a stone was left unturned in search of the scholar; all the while he had been holed up in a makeshift home on the edge of Rivington. The notoriety Edvund possessed had not affected his simple way of life. It was something Astarion might have found humor in if he had come across the strange man under different conditions. The man slinks towards the bed once Astarion approves, lips pursed as he looms over your unmoving figure.

“Poor child, barely hanging by a thread.” Edvund muses out loud. While there is empathy in his words, the firmness spoke to the weight they held. Astarion eyes his hand cautiously as it comes to hover over your midsection. “I will need her on her back.” He states. “Are you able to move, dear?”

Your eyes open barely a sliver in response. You open your mouth to respond but your voice is lost to the dry ache in your throat and on your tongue. Looking to Astarion in a silent bid for help, he obliges by carefully moving your body into position.

“This will do nicely. You’re doing wonderful, dear.” Edvund reassures. He places his hand on your clothed stomach, a pale blue light illuminating from his palm. His eyes bear the same blue light as he stares distantly at the wall. “Very interesting.” He murmurs after a few minutes pass, but does not remove his hand. It shifts purposefully from your sacrum up towards your ribcage. It was a brief moment of relief, as if whatever magic he yielded offered numbing to the visceral blows you had been experiencing.

Edvund removes his hand and the light in his eyes flickers in tandem. “You would be wise to rest while you can.” He pats the hand that lay lifelessly at your side. Unsure if it was a trance or from the fleeting comfort you finally had after three days of torture, you drifted away. The man turns his attention to Astarion once he’s sure you’re asleep. “A dhampir of not one, but two.” He riddles. “To be born of fruitful womb and abject seed. To shed light as great as thee.”

“What in the hells are you saying?” Astarion’s brow creased. It seemed more likely that Edvund was reciting poetry rather than providing a diagnosis.

“A dhampire of not one but two; to be born of fruitful womb, abject seed. To shed light as great as thee. Cast darkness into light, and light into lead. A union thick as thieves.” His hands move in an unfounded performance, fingers coming to lock in front of his chin once he is finished. “A prophecy greater in age than you or I.” He clarified, bringing his hands to rest on the edge of the bed. “It was foretold a pair of dhampirs would be born to a pure soul and a heinous….” He trails, eyeing Astarion before continuing. “They will materialize to our plane of existence. The gods have willed it so and so it will be.”

“Are you suggesting there are two?” Astarion’s jaw clenched as he eyes Edvund. “Remove them.”

“I cannot.” Edvund was unphased by Astarion’s aggressive demand, instead he stared him down with the same determined look in response.

“You will. This will kill her. Are you mad?”

“She will recover.” Edvund muses, looking back down at your sleeping form; no doubt the most divine rest you’ve had in your life with the help of his own magic.

Astarion steps around the foot of the bed, making his way toward the man with a fire blazing in his red eyes. Edvund glances at him, whispering a quiet incantation that seemingly relaxed every nerve in Astarion’s body. In a daze, he sits limply in the chaise at the end of the bed. He felt powerless. For the first time in his many years, he was indeed. Completely, utterly, entirely not in control.

Edvund steps in front of him, crouching until he is eye-to-eye with him. “You’ve felt this is destiny, yes? You and the girl?”

Astarion feels that blaze return, but it is quickly simmered once more. Edvund effortlessly defies his rage, pouring his own magic into keeping Astarion sedated. “Get out of my head.” Astarion murmurs, gritting his teeth uncomfortably.

Edvund proceeds; he already knew the answer to his question. “You do not want to anger the gods, Sir Ancunin. This has been foretold. Of course, nothing is stopping you from finding someone else to get the job done; I for one will have no part of it. I’d rather not deal with the wrath of any all powerful deity, let alone all of them. I suggest you heed this warning. It will not be pretty if you interfere.” He purses his lips tightly, furrowing his fluffy brows together as he speaks.

Astarion’s mind felt convoluted as the reality of the situation weighed heavy on his shoulders. This was bigger than you or him, but he refused to stand by and watch you crumble.

The air in the room hung heavy with the weight of destiny as Astarion grappled with the revelation. Edvund's cryptic warnings and the ominous prophecy left Astarion torn between the fate dictated by higher powers and the desperate need to protect you. The clash of emotions within him mirrored the conflict that unfolded in the dimly lit chamber.

Astarion's eyes, once ablaze with defiance, now flickered with uncertainty as he considered the implications. The revelation of a dual heritage, the prophecy, and the insistence on non-interference pressed upon him. Yet, the fierce love he felt for you surged as a counterforce, compelling him to challenge the preordained path.

The room bore witness to a silent struggle—one man navigating the treacherous waters of divine prophecy, the other tethered to the mortal realm by love's unyielding grip. As Edvund continued his mystical work, Astarion's internal turmoil mirrored the external tension, a tempest brewing in the shadow of fate.

In the midst of this cosmic chess game, your frail form lay suspended, caught between realms. A pawn in a game played by unseen hands, her fate intricately woven into the fabric of prophecy. The dichotomy of despair and determination etched across Astarion's face painted a poignant picture of a soul at war with itself.

The room, once a sanctuary for quiet moments and stolen glances, now bore witness to a profound struggle that transcended the mortal and the divine. It was a clash of wills, a dance of destiny, and a tableau of emotions that would shape the course of lives entwined in a tapestry woven by forces beyond mortal comprehension.

“The gods have orchestrated this all, Astarion.” Edvund loosened the invisible grip he had on Astarion, allowing a sliver of distance between them as he stood. “I’d heard of you, you know. The ruthless vampire lord.” Edvund quirks his head. He didn’t need to say it aloud as it was unspoken; love had made Astarion soft in a lot of ways. Specifically for you, but for the way you lived life as well. The way you simply loved.

For a brief moment, Astarion wondered if you would have been anything more than a meal and quick fuck without the interference of higher powers. He couldn’t dwell on the thought, though. It made him sick to think about.

Edvund's words cut through the tangled web of Astarion's conflicted thoughts. The acknowledgment of his reputation as a ruthless vampire lord served as a stark reminder of the life he led before you entered it. The juxtaposition of his past and the vulnerability that love had brought forth in him loomed over the room.

As Astarion grappled with the unsettling realization, Edvund's gaze lingered on him, a silent understanding passing between them. The enigmatic scholar seemed to grasp the intricacies of Astarion's transformation, not just as a vampire but as a being touched by the profound force of love.

“I hope you don’t mind, I’m not really in the mood for chit chat.” Astarion replied back coldly, his eyes stone as he looked at Edvund. Edvund held his hands up in a show of understanding.

“I’d better get going. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, but see to it that she rests adequately. There will be days where she feels like she can conquer the world, but she mustn’t overexert herself.” Edvund states as he walks towards the door. He leaves with a parting reassurance. “She will live. The gods are not as cruel as you would believe them to be right now.”

With that, Astarion sat alone. The air hung thick with magic and tension.

Astarion's gaze remained fixed on your slumbering form, the delicate rise and fall of your chest a comfort amidst the tumult within him. The cold, stoic exterior he had worn for centuries cracked, revealing the vulnerability that love had etched into his undead heart.

As he sat in the quiet chamber, a myriad of emotions churned within Astarion—fear, love, defiance, and an unsettling acceptance of the cosmic forces at play. The room, once a witness to stolen moments of intimacy, now bore witness to a solitary figure grappling with the intricacies of mortality and the influence of gods.

Time seemed suspended in that moment, the force of the future pressing down on Astarion. The journey ahead, fraught with uncertainties and divine machinations, loomed large. Yet, in the hushed solitude of the room, Astarion found a quiet resolve to face the impending challenges.

The vampire lord, once driven solely by self-preservation, now stood on the precipice of a destiny entwined with love and sacrifice. As the shadows deepened and the room embraced its newfound solitude, Astarion remained a sentinel, guarding not only the frail form on the bed but also the fragile threads of a fate spun by gods themselves.

[throneofsapphics]

old faces, part two

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: you and Rowan meet again after seven years, and deal with the fall-out of a secret. 

Warnings: mentions of drinking, death, and grief

Word Count: ~6.4k 

A/N: I'm hesitant about this one, but I’m going to throw it out here anyway. feedback is more than welcome :) thank you to everyone who gave me the idea for this! the next two parts will be coming soon!

series masterlist

Rowan counted the whirls in the ceiling, the delicate and detailed decorations of their assigned suite in the palace. A window propped open, letting a dry summer breeze in. Aelin’s taste for luxury couldn’t compare to here. A few centuries of relative peace could accomplish that. She squealed in delight at the sunken bathing pool, filled with aromatic oils, candles lighting the edges, a window showing greenery beyond. Rose petals. There were gods-damned rose petals floating on top. 

Despite his best efforts, his mind drifted to you and his daughter, Ceri. He fought the ugly resentment at your secret. Your actions were justified, but If he hadn’t caught sight of you, he could’ve lived the rest of his immortal life with no idea he had a child out there. Rowan ruminated on the fear that he’d somehow failed both of you - although realistically he knew there was nothing he could’ve done. He debated how he’d make up for lost time, how to convince you to move closer, how to gain his daughter’s trust.  

“What’s on your mind?” Aelin asked, turning over to prop herself up on her forearm. 

“Ceri,” the words came easily, but he hesitated to say you were on his mind as well. Aelin hadn’t given him any indication she was jealous, or that this would pose a problem, but it was foreign territory for both of them. 

“They should both come to Terrasen,” Aelin murmured, catching his attention. Rowan’s head snapped, eyes widened. That’s … not what he expected her to say. Maybe that Ceri should come, at least for a few months a year, but certainly not his former … lover. His wife’s lips were curled into a smile, “I enjoy her company.” 

He raised his brows. Considering how she’d treated Remelle, “She’s nothing like her,” Aelin scoffed, reading the words in his eyes. 

It could be merely that Aelin enjoys her company - or that she wants to keep an eye on her. As usual, he wouldn’t know until Aelin decides to tell him. 

‘In another world, I could’ve built a life with her,’ the thoughts of his past echoed. It was another world now, a better world. Building a life with you didn’t mean romantic, but a life where he could co-parent his child, where he could keep both of you safe and happy. It might be a better world, but there were still threats. Still people who would take the two of you, if only to have leverage over him and Aelin. A fist clenched in his chest, pressure building, squeezing, suffocating him - if anything happened to the two of you -

“We’ll keep them safe,” Aelin shifted and ran her hand up and down his arm. 

-

‘We can figure it out tomorrow,’ Rowan had said. Tomorrow came in the form of a ghost from your past. 

“It wasn’t wise for them to come again,” the blonde-haired emissary explained. Now bloodsworn to the Queen of Terrasen. Aelin, she insisted you call her. 

You recognized Fenrys instantly. The two of you used to frequent enough of the same taverns and circles to know each other by name. The same recognition had flashed in his eyes, mouth turning up at one corner as he greeted you. 

You blinked, dragging yourself back into the present. “So they sent you as a messenger?”

He snorted, “something like that,” and paused, onyx eyes assessing you as you fought the urge to squirm in your seat. 

“And the message?” 

“They want you to consider … relocating, for your safety. For both of you.” 

His eyes flicked to the glass door, where your daughter played in the small garden beyond. There had already been murmurs, more inquiries about your daughter, more curious gazes. 

“I’ve considered moving to Eyllwe.” You already spoke the language, and the climate was similar. It would be an easy adjustment, and closer to Terrasen. 

Fenrys’s mouth parted, you’d surprised him with your answer, and it took him a few moments to reply. “We were hoping you’d consider moving to Terrasen.” 

Exactly what you suspected. But, you had your daughter, Ceri’s, best interests in mind. Would she want to grow up under constant surveillance, for her every move to be watched, the pressure of her relation to the crown - even if she’s not in line for it. Possible slurs and taunts about the circumstances of her birth. 

“Anywhere you go, she’ll eventually be recognized,” Fenrys said, as if he was reading your mind. Your knuckles whitened as you clenched your fists. He eyed you warily, sensing the protective instincts flaring inside you. “We’re not saying you need to move to Orynth, there’s other places if you want some distance from …”  

Fenrys didn’t need to finish the sentence.

“Right,” you cleared your throat and stood. “I need to think about it.” 

“Of course,” he recognized your not-so-subtle dismissal, and stood with you, depositing a roll of paper on the table. Your eyes narrowed, flicking between the scroll and him. Fenrys shot a wink at you, motioning for you to lead the way to the exit. 

You paused at the gate, fingers curling around the latch, turning over your shoulder to look at him. “It’s good to see you.” 

Fenrys understood the unspoken word, free. 

“And you,” his throat bobbed, “I’ll be back tomorrow.” 

The gate swung open, and he disappeared, footsteps silent as he rounded the corner. You took up a position on the bench, watching as the sun lowered, leaving a beautiful array of gold and pink hues, absorbing remaining warmth. Would Terrasen have sunsets like this? Gods, it sounded like you already made up your mind. 

“Who was that?” Ceri chirped. She’d chosen to stay out of his way after the brief introduction, sending shy glances from the garden, and retreating when he left. You wouldn’t push her to spend time around someone if she didn’t want to. 

“An old … acquaintance,” 

“What’s an acquaintance?” She asked, the word foreign on her tongue as she drew out the syllables. 

“Someone you know, but not a close friend.” 

She nodded solemnly, as if this was crucial knowledge, and you couldn’t fight your smile. 

“The Queen said we’re her friends now,” she bounced on her toes. We’re. Not just her, but the two of you. A small warmth bloomed in your chest, sobering as you realized the extra dangers of a friendship like that. 

“That’s lovely.” She paused, remembering something, and sprinted inside without another word. 

Ceri returned, holding a paper out for your viewing. “I want to give this to her.” 

A drawing. Gray jagged mountains, dense forests, little rivers and valleys. The landscape had surprising detail, and nothing like Antica or anywhere you remembered showing her.  

“I saw that in my dreams,” her small finger traced the outline of the mountain. Terrasen, the place popped into your mind, based on descriptions you read in books. Dreams, she was dreaming of a place she’d never seen. 

“We’ll find a way to get this to her,” the words came out gently. At a young age, you lost faith in any kind of divine intervention, but this … this was too coincidental to ignore. A chill ran down your spine, only partially from the breeze. The sun had fallen, a gray sort of dusk replacing the orange hues from earlier, and you made your way back inside.

Your hands shook as you cut the seal on the scroll Fenrys left, unfurling the message. A list of different places in Terrasen; Perranth, Caraverre and Allsbrook. Promises the two of you would be taken care of, that you’d be able to find work, that there would be other children and day schools for Ceri. 

But, this wasn’t a demand or order, it was a plea and offer. Even extended to your friend, Reya and her daughter Ani - Ceri’s best friend, if they showed desire to relocate as well. Ani would follow Ceri if her mother let her, and Reya expressed desire to visit Terrasen before. Reya’s family that had taken you in over the years. The day you arrived in Antica, just hours after you’d brushed the dust from the gate, an equally pregnant Reya sought you out, informing you your mothers had been friends - and because of that you were obligated to as well. 

The Queen and King were practically bending over backwards to try and get you to come … or, they were genuine and wanted both you and your daughter somewhere safe. 

Silver hair swished back and forth as she sat at her desk again, pencil already in hand - sketching out another drawing. If this was going to happen, you needed her to agree first. After you spoke to Fenrys tomorrow you’d bring it up, and the two of you would make the decision together. 

-

“I don’t want to go,” her small foot stomped on the ground. 

“Ani would come with us.” You weren’t surprised your friend agreed easily. “Your father lives there as well.” 

Ceri put the pieces together quickly, asking for confirmation the day after they showed up on your doorstep. 

“You said my father was a Fae warrior and royal,” she planted her hands on her hips. You nodded, pulling two chairs out, motioning for her to sit. Before now, she’d accepted your explanation - not asking for a name. The day would come eventually, but you thought you had a few more years. “He’s the King of Terrasen.” 

“Yes,” you said slowly, letting her carry out her train of thought. 

“Does that make me a princess?” You frowned as she spit out the word. 

“Do you want to be a princess?” Her head shook rapidly and she scrunched her nose. Your mouth indented at one side. “Then you don’t need to be a princess.” 

“If we move there, I have to be a princess, that’s what Ani said.” Her green eyes filled with tears, and you gently grasped each of her shoulders, crouching to be at eye level. 

“Ani was wrong,” and you need to tell her mother to keep her daughter’s mouth shut, “you don’t have to be anything you don’t want to.” You brushed away one of the stray tears, opening your arms up to let her launch into you, running your fingers through the silver strands. 

“But,” you murmured as she dug her face into your shoulder. “It’s not safe here for us, anymore.” 

The words sliced into your chest - breaking away a small piece of you. The sanctuary you sought years ago, no longer a safe place to be. Just this afternoon you’d spotted two lurkers across the street, watching your home and the surrounding street. You tugged Ceri beyond the gate, slamming the wards in place, re-examining the marks etched in stone for any weaknesses or fading. 

“It’s all his fault.” 

No, no, no. This is not how you wanted the conversation to go. “It’s not,” you whispered, pulling her back. Her face was red, cheeks flushed in anger. “It’s not your father’s fault there’s bad people out there.” 

“Why didn’t he stay with us?” 

The animosity in her tone made your stomach turn. This conversation was coming, you knew it, and possibly long overdue. 

“Your father used to serve a bad Queen, Maeve,” you started the hair on your arms standing up, “and I left, when I knew I was pregnant with you. To keep both of us safe. I didn’t tell him,” Her mouth parted to ask ‘why,’ but you held up a hand. “If he knew of us, he could have been forced to tell the Queen, who could do bad things to us or make him do bad things.” Her brows furrowed, and you wondered if you were butchering this explanation, but you were already started - you might as well keep going. 

“I know he would have done his best to protect us.” You did know that, you knew the sense of loyalty Fae held to their children, the fierce protectiveness - you had it yourself. “But he was … bound to do her bidding, and if she ordered him to hurt us, he would have no choice. She may have been able to use you through him, and that’s a risk I'll never take.”

“Maeve is dead,” she stated, more to herself, but you nodded anyway. All of the children knew the story of the battle of Terrasen, of the war fought in Erilea. Reya was a widow, her husband died in Orynth, along with her brother. “Good,” her little fists clenched, shoulders rolling back. Maybe that protective sense extended to her Rowan, whether she knew it or not. 

You cautioned her not to bring Maeve up to either of them, to any of the people from Terrasen, and that they would tell her if they wished to. There wasn’t a need to dig up fresh wounds. 

-

One week left of the Royal visit. One week to try and figure this hellstorm out. Ceri’s reluctance transferred into your own. Perhaps Eyllwe would be a better option. 

Fenrys came by in the early hours, letting you know Rowan, Aelin, and he would stop by later that night, after the sun had set. You promised a late dinner, and now grew to regret that promise considering how much you were panicking over the food. Keep it simple, your mothers words echoed in your mind as you put together the few heritage dishes she taught you, squinting to read the scribbled recipes, worn down by time and travel. 

You felt more than heard their approach, the old magic swirling in the air, and the small ring of the ward’s alarms. Ceri followed you through the garden, less shy than last time, but still reserved as she half hid behind you. 

The wards were up. Directly after the royals visited your home, you activated them. Only those you wanted to see the house or its inhabitants could. 

Your eyes scanned the street beyond them, spotting two figures watching your house intently. They couldn’t see anything beyond the normal facade, the garden exactly as it’s supposed to be. Magic hid your figures, and the ones right before the gate. Did they catch their approach?

Still, you let out a low breath, focusing on keeping your panic down as you willed the magic to bend enough to let them inside. 

“Those are clever wards,” the Queen commented, fingers tracing over the wyrdmarks carved in the pale stone walls. 

“Thank you,” you forced a smile on your face as your hand shook lightly, gaze still on the figures across the street. This was the first time they stayed past sunset. 

“Have they been bothering you?” 

Aelin’s voice was low, but you recognized the edge of danger as she followed your gaze. 

“They can’t see us.” A non answer, but before she could question further, you waved them inside. Rowan pinned you with a look that said he had more questions. Later, you mouthed. When Ceri was sound asleep. 

-

Rowan watched you and Aelin go back and forth, discussing books - he’d forgotten how much you loved to read, debating who the better romance author was, the best and worst tropes. Things like; third act break-up, miscommunication, enemies to lovers, love triangles. 

His attention switched back to his daughter, who had alternated questioning both him and Fenrys about everything, and especially magic. Each question she asked, he answered the best he could, and asked her more in turn. Rowan wanted to know it all, wanted to catch up on the seven missed years, and to catch up with you as well, to learn how your life had been, what raising Ceri was like, and how to be a worthy father. 

“How did you learn Wydrmarks?” Aelin asked. 

“My mother taught me,” you smiled at her, like Aelin was dredging up a pleasant memory. “I still have the books. She lived in Eyllwe for a while.” 

Aelin asked her a question, in what he assumed was Eyllwe, and you joined in. Then, Ceri did, already speaking another language this young. That makes three he knows of; Eyllwe, Halha, and the common tongue. She inherited her mother’s intelligence, that’s for certain. 

The three of you had a language you could speak in - one he couldn’t understand. Something told him that could lead to trouble. Fenrys caught his gaze over the table, smirking. 

After dinner, he was informed his daughter had a gift for him and Aelin. Two drawings - of Terrasen. She was talented, especially for her age. The detail is what surprised him - vivid, as if she’d seen it with her own eyes.  

“They’re from my dreams,” she piped up - and answered his question. 

Behind her, your eyebrows drew together, teeth chewing on your bottom lip. Catching his gaze, you offered a half smile. An attempt at nonchalance, one he saw right through. You may have changed, but you still wore your emotions for everyone to see. 

“They’re wonderful, thank you.” Aelin reached out, squeezing her shoulder. 

He looked back down at his drawing, and spotted four stick-like figures, hastily added in a corner, the wax of the pencil fresher. She’d added them recently, maybe even an hour ago. The heights and hair colors made them easily recognizable, and filled him with some hope. 

“It’s beautiful,” he finally looked up at her - into eyes identical to his own, but unburdened and radiant with joy. Gods, he’d do anything to protect that. 

-

Ceri yawned, attempting to muffle it with her fist, blinking rapidly to try and keep her eyes open.   

“Time for bed,” you announced, and she turned to you - a small pout forming, but yawned again and her shoulders drooped in resignation. 

“Goodnight,” she said to the three guests, and dragged her feet down the hall. Five minutes later, you tucked the thin sheet up to her shoulders, making sure the window was propped to let in the breeze, pressed a small kiss to her forehead, and snicked the door closed - her breaths already evening out into a deep sleep. 

They remained right where she left them - at the table. Rowan looked up from where he’d been studying his gift. “She’s talented.” 

You nodded absentmindedly, sliding back into your seat next to Aelin. It had surprised and intimidated you when she claimed the seat by your left. But, she’d put you at ease quickly, easily guiding the conversation between your mutual interests. 

“I never showed her pictures,” you cleared your throat. “But .. I'm assuming they’re of Terrasen.” Three nods. 

“Have you made a decision about moving?” Fenrys braced his forearms on the table, getting right to the point. The others stiffened, but brimmed with anticipation. 

“We’ve discussed it,” you tapped your fingers against the table. Honesty is the best way to go. “My friend said she’d go, but Ceri is … reluctant.” 

“Have you tried to convince her?” Rowan replied harshly, a shadow of guilt following; as much of an apology as you’d get for his tone and implication. Not that you were owed one, you’d probably feel the same in his situation.  

“This is her home, this is where her friends are, it’s not surprising she’s reluctant to leave,” you ran a hand over your face. And … you knew Antica was safer, but generational prejudices took time to undo. Terrasen used to be a safe place for Fae, interrupted by a decade of terror. It would take time to rebuild that legacy.

“She’s … open to the idea of a trial. To go for a few months, and see if she likes it. I promised her I won’t force her to stay if she doesn’t.” Years of building an iron will kept you from cowering under their stares. That was the only compromise you managed to come to. The next barb shot at Rowan before your filter caught up with you, “she inherited your stubbornness.” 

That little comment lightened the mood, because Fenrys laughed, Aelin snorted, and you could’ve sworn a small smile graced over Rowan’s face. In all honesty, your daughter was a mini-Rowan in female form. 

“I pity you,” Fenrys murmured, ignoring Rowan’s glare.

“I heard that,” a small voice chirped from the corner, and you groaned. 

“She’s also quite skilled at faking her sleep, and eavesdropping” turning over your shoulder, you fixed her with a glare, and she looked completely unapologetic. You noted the natural breeze flowing through the window, strong enough it would’ve blown away her scent - and she managed to get close enough for her immortal hearing to let her eavesdrop without detection. “Did you hear everything?” 

“Only about the trial visit.” You couldn’t scent a lie, and motioned for her to come to the table. If you’re speaking of her, she may as well be invited, and now that she knows - you doubt she’ll go back to sleep anytime soon. She slid into the chair next to her father, and you gave him a look to say; your turn. You did your part, he can do his best to convince her now.

Aelin and Rowan patiently answered all of her questions; is it safe? - yes, is it cold? - yes, are there ghost leopards? - yes, are they friendly? - Fenrys choked, and Aelin gave a firm no. 

“Then,” Ceri cleared her throat. “Why should I visit? You’re not making it sound very nice.” 

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you knew diplomacy was not in her future. Aelin spoke of the snow,  sledding, the magic of the Oakwald forest, giant wolves, the Staghorns, learning to control her magic - that caught her attention, and by the gleam in her eyes; you knew you’d be moving to Terrasen, at least temporarily. There’s a reason Aelin makes a great Queen. 

“You and your mother can choose where you’d like to live, if you come.” Aelin finished. Rowan’s jaw clenched, barely perceptible. 

“What will she do with her work?” 

“That’s for me to worry about,” you reached over the table, placing your hand over her own. She looked at you skeptically, but nodded. You’ve saved enough money over the years to keep the two of you comfortable for a decade or two - with careful spending. 

“Your mother is talented enough to find work wherever she goes,” Rowan added, sending you a knowing look.

She tapped a finger against her cheek, looking between the four of you. “I agree,” she announced, and you watched Rowan - watched how his face lit up. Saw Aelin watching you, watch him. You tore your gaze away. There’s nothing left between the two of you, and you don’t want to give her any reason to think there might be. Even if you’d found each other at the right time, she was the perfect match for him. It only took hours in their presence to realize that. It filled you with a different sort of happiness; after everything he went through - he deserved the best love could offer. 

The clock behind you chimed, you glanced over your shoulder - only ten, but you saw Ceri yawning, again, her eyes starting to droop with sleep. 

“Are you ready to sleep now?” you asked her quietly. Maybe if you gave her the decision - she might stay in bed this time. She nodded, rounding the table and grabbing your hand. You stood with her, but she paused to look at Rowan. 

“Will you tell me a story?” Rowan blinked once, but he agreed and stood, trailing after the two of you towards the bedroom. You sent a silent prayer to the Gods he’d given one that wouldn’t give her nightmares. 

Against every instinct, you let them have some privacy after Ceri gave you a small nod. It was laughable that your daughter was giving you reassurance. Not quite ready to face Aelin and Fenrys alone, you leant stopped at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall. Rowan’s hushed tones floated through the open space, low enough you couldn’t quite understand the words. 

“Y/n,” Aelin���s voice came through. Turning your head, you found her standing a few paces away. Either you were deep in thought, or she’s especially silent on her feet. Maybe both. Aelin tilted her head, indicating for you to follow. Fighting the scowl threatening to emerge - at the idea of obeying someone's orders in your own home, you pushed from the wall, leading her towards the sitting room. Dishes could come later, for now you let your body melt into your favorite armchair, a perfect view of the street beyond. 

“Have there been many … lurkers?”

It would be so easy to lie, but she’d see right through those, and if you were going to co-parent … that’s not the foot you wanted to get off on. “Yes, a few each day.” 

“Have they approached you?” Fenrys cut in quickly. 

“They can’t see us, with the wards.” Aelin murmured something that sounded like; that’s what I thought, but you were distracted - glancing out the large window to see if they were still there. Sure enough, two shadowy figures remained, lurking across the street. 

“How do your wards work?” Fenrys switched the line of questioning. 

You studied him for a moment before answering. “I come from a family of magic wielders, and the lingering magic around the house built up over the decades. I used the Wyrdmarks to … direct it. It acts on my intentions, for lack of a better word. I’m not actively using my magic to surround the area” He looked at you, like he was prompting for more detail, “In all honesty, it would take me hours to explain each detail.” 

“I’d love to hear it some day,” Aelin added, face light and smiling, but there was still a tension in her shoulders. 

“Some day,” you promised. Maybe in the near future, maybe far away. If you ended up settling somewhere in Terrasen, you’d find a home already exposed to magic - maybe previously owned by magic wielders. 

“It’s impressive,” you heard Rowan rounding the corner. Aelin had chosen the spot on the couch next to Fenrys, leaving Rowan to sit in the other armchair. Not quite as comfortable as yours. “What are you going to do about them?” He jerked his chin towards the window. 

“There’s not much I can do,” you admitted. “They haven’t proven to be a threat, haven’t approached us.” 

“Has anyone … approached you?” He leaned back, and you saw right through his attempt to look nonchalant. 

“I’ve had a few questions about her, as expected.” 

“What did you say?” Rowan pushed. 

-

“What I’ve always said, that I don’t quite remember.” He let out a small grunt at her answer. It was the right thing to say, he knew that, even though it unsettled him. He wanted the world to know the two of you - you didn’t deserve to be some kind of dirty secret, he was proud to have Ceri as a child. And you as a … friend. 

“You do have an army of cousins,” Fenrys commented wryly, shooting a knowing glance towards, and you rolled your eyes. It’s common knowledge there’s plenty of Whitethorns in Doranelle. Aelin was watching the interaction with keen interest. 

Do they know each other? She asked, meeting his eyes. 

Yes. 

“How do you know each other?” Aelin questioned. 

“We ran in the same circles.” 

“Drinking circles,” Fenrys clarified. “You used to drink most males under the table.” 

“That’s a thing of the past.” 

“You never get a night out?” He recognized the glint in the male's eyes - if you ended up in Orynth, Fenrys might drag you out for a night to celebrate. It would be good for you; ‘you don’t know what’s good for her anymore,’ the voice in his head countered. 

“Night’s in mostly. I try to keep a low profile.” Another way you changed. The old you never turned down a chance to go out - to feed off the energy of a crowd.

It was crowded, one of the more famous bards in town for the night. Crowded enough the two of you could slip in against the wall, hood disguising your features, Rowan’s magic redirecting your scents. Nights out together were rare. Rowan watched as the male sang, one of those songs where the crowd would join in - each line growing dirtier as it went on. You knew every one, and countered his incredulous looks with an unabashed smile, not one bit of shame. 

He pushed himself back to the present. The low profile you built was gone now. You both knew it. Before, it’s unlikely anyone but the royals or courtiers recognized your resemblance. But with their visit - it was as clear as day.

“The truth will come out, eventually.” For once, he mentally thanked Fenrys for opening his mouth.

“I know,” there was quiet resignation in your voice. Mourning, almost. Mourning a life under the radar, a life without him. Rowan pushed the thoughts out of his mind, not a life without him - a life of peace. Whether you liked it or not, now that he knew he had a daughter, he had an obligation to the two of you. Beyond obligation, he had a desire to be part of her life, and that meant being part of yours as well. 

“Will your friend join you in Terrasen?” Fenrys questioned. 

“Reya … she’s said yes. She -” you choked on your words, on the memory, clearing your throat, “her husband and brother served with the Darghan and died in Orynth,” you were surprised your voice remained steady, “she’s wished to visit for some time now.” 

You tried to hide it, but he still saw the one small tear welling in the corner of your left eye. Just one. 

Rowan read between the lines. He recalled some of his conversations with Sartaq after the battle. He told, in hushed tones, of Arundin, the mountain where suldes, the spears all Darghan warriors carried, were planted after their deaths. He said their souls would roam with the wind, and maybe Reya was searching for theirs, searching for closure.  

-

It was like someone threw a haze over the room with your words, the shift poignant, dark silence radiating through the room. They were good men, and Reya wanted to find closure. You were there through it all, through the news of their deaths, felt the loss and suffering along with their family. 

A shadow crossed through Aelin’s eyes, a hint of guilt flooding over her features, and you felt the need to do something about it.

“Ani, her daughter,” you continued, “is very proud of her father, and so is Reya and her family. Before he left, he told us that he was proud to fight for a better world.” Aelin seemed to lighten at that, so you continued. “You’re probably tired of hearing things like this, but we’re all proud our country fought for you.” 

You’re not certain why, but you wanted her to know that - to assure her, in case she hadn’t heard it before, or heard it often enough. Based on the grateful look Rowan shot your way, maybe she hadn’t. 

“Were you here, during the war?” Fenrys asked. 

“I was, my mediocre healing skills came in handy. There was still a city to run,” your mouth curved at the corners. The Torre had been all but emptied, and there was still a city to run. Some of the tension left the room, thank the Gods. 

The moon had shifted, full and bright, and some of the light flowed through the room. Full moons, time for transformation. Fitting, considering you were about to uproot everything you’ve known for the last seven and a half years. 

-

“How soon can you be ready to leave?” Rowan asked. Aelin cut a sharp look at him, but he ignored her. Maybe he could’ve phrased that better. 

A soft laugh left you. Different, even your laugh was different, filled with a weariness that wasn’t there before.  “We’ve always been ready to go at a moment's notice, but I’d say two weeks or so to wrap everything up.” 

One week, they’d be leaving in a week. There’s no reasonable way for them to extend their visit, not without turning more heads. One week he’d be away from Ceri and you, a whole seven days where he couldn’t be there to protect the two of you. A week left in a city - with a target firmly on your backs.

“We’ll make travel arrangements for you,” Aelin’s voice cut off his thinking. 

“There’s no need-” 

“I’ll already be leaving at the same time, it’s no bother.” Fenrys interrupted you. Right, he’d be in the city an extra week to wrap up some negotiations. Rowan felt slightly better now. He’ll feel even better once he threatens Fenrys within an inch of his life. You narrowed your eyes at Fenrys, for the interruption, and he gave an unapologetic shrug and changed the subject “Has Ceri ever been on the water?” 

“Not the open sea,” you grimaced. “I’ll make sure we have something for nausea.” 

What are you thinking? Aelin caught his eye as you and Fenrys went back and forth, debating the best remedies for nausea. At least he could avoid your light-hearted bickering. There’s potential for the two of you to be insufferable together.  

Once we leave, people will be more motivated to act. That tightness gripped his chest again. 

Aelin frowned; I know. I’ll speak to Nesryn. 

Y/n won’t like that, he cautioned, even though he didn’t particularly care what you thought of it. When it came to your safety, he’d deal with your irritation. 

Nesryn can keep a secret. The woman had been a rebel. 

Are you going to tell y/n?

Too nervous? Aelin teased him, and his nostrils flared. Fine, he could tell you.

He caught your eye, and waited til your attention directed to him. “Once we leave, there will be a bigger target on your back.” 

“I’m aware,” you crossed your arms, “I do have a functioning mind.” His brows flicked, at least you still had some thorns. 

“It would be wise to have someone aware of who Ceri is,” Rowan went on as you looked ready to interrupt - to tell him off, no doubt, “aware of who she is to me, and that the two of you would be a valuable hostage.” 

He watched as you visibly stiffened, eyes hardening. Rowan knows you were aware of the dangers, but hearing them aloud would put another sense of urgency. 

“We have a friend, who can have someone look out for you - until it’s time for you to leave.” He could read the words on your tongue; I can protect us. “I know you’re capable,” he assured you, “but it’s not a weakness to have an extra set of eyes on you and Ceri.” 

Rowan watched as you came to the conclusion - watched how you’d swallow any kind of pride or ego for your daughter, for his daughter. He would’ve asked Nesryn to keep an eye out regardless, but having you aware and in agreement made it easier. 

“Who’s your friend?” 

“Nesryn Faliq.” The future Empress. 

The whites of your eyes shone, even as you said, “I shouldn’t be surprised.” Your fist came up to your mouth, stifling a yawn. The clock chimed again. Eleven already. 

“We’d best get back,” Fenrys pushed himself up from the couch, Aelin followed quickly, giving the two of you a moment of privacy. 

“It means .. everything, to me, that you and Ceri are willing to come to Terrasen.” 

“It’s a trial, remember?” You teased him. One year, that’s what Ceri, and by extension you, had agreed to. They had one year to convince Ceri to stay permanently.

“I know,” he nudged you with his elbow, drawing out another one of your laughs. Lighter this time. He felt himself falling back into the old companionship, the easy way the two of you had with each other. You’d been something between a friend and a lover. The closest thing he could come to friendship, while serving under Maeve. Temporary, but here you were seven years later - now to be a permanent fixture in his life.

Aelin and Fenrys waited for them at the gates, the two lurkers were gone now. Good, he might’ve done something impulsive otherwise, something that may have damaged relations between both countries. Fae may have few laws against murder, but that’s not always the case for the rest of the world. 

“Will you be back before the end of the week?” 

“I don’t think so,” Aelin said. “It’ll draw more suspicion if we’re seen coming here.” 

If Rowan could, he’d spend the rest of his time here getting to know the two of you. 

“I’ll be back,” Fenrys shot a wink at you. “You’ll see plenty of these two in the next year.” 

He found himself studying you, again. You didn’t look disappointed they wouldn’t be back, but not relieved either. He didn’t know how to feel about it, how he wanted you to react. It would be too easy for this to be simple. 

-

Aelin and Rowan sought out Nesryn and Sartaq early the next morning. 

“We’ve just learned Rowan has a daughter in the city.” Aelin got right to the point. “She and her mother are moving to Terrassen in two weeks.” 

Midnight eyes shot to Sartaq, who’s mouth tightened. They suspected something, but hadn’t known for certain. 

“There was suspicion of someone related to the Whitethorns living here,” he said, “but we never confirmed it.  Her mother is known to us, of course.” 

Of course. Maybe you weren’t quite as low profile as you thought. 

“Her work.” Nesryn clarified. “Although she’s done a good job flying under the radar.” 

“Not good enough for my spies,” Sartaq added. 

“After our visit, it’ll be too obvious. It puts a target on their backs.” 

“We’ll keep our eyes on her. Discrete ones.” Nesryn said, before she could specify her ask for help. 

“Thank you,” Rowan said, and she could hear the relief in his tone, sensing the small tension leaving him through the bond. 

“You’d do the same for us,” Sartaq answered. They were allies, and the Khaganate had already done so much for them, throughout the whole war. Without a doubt, she knew she’d do the same. Rowan went on to describe what he’d seen, detailed descriptions of the figures across the street, and a brief description of the wards she has up - of how they hide you. Nesryn gave a nod of appreciation, and Sartaq still didn’t seem surprised. Aelin remembered Chaol telling her he had an extensive network of spies.

The conversation left them in a much better mood, easing some of their nerves. Aelin barely knew Ceri, or you, but already felt fiercely protective. Maybe even as much as Rowan did. She’d never replace you, she didn’t want to, but she’d be a part of your lives no matter how the cards fell. 

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Over-the-top 1977 home in Potomac, Maryland has 5bds, 6ba, and some very unique features. $2.450M.

A covered entrance with double doors opens to a huge foyer that features a slate floor, a koi pond and waterfall.

This is a formal sunken living room, two steps down from the entrance foyer.

The formal dining room is directly off the entrance foyer.

The chef's kitchen has double islands. One island has a "leathered" finish Brazilian quartz counter. There's a cubby with a built-in desk and a large pantry.

Off the kitchen are 2 entertaining spaces that share a double-sided fireplace.

It is a MCM after all, so it has to have a conversation pit.

The primary bedroom has a separate sitting area.

The bedroom itself is spacious.

The walk-in closet features mad cabinet space. I like that it's all hidden.

The en-suite is very large, full of mirrors, a sunken tub, and windows to private Zen gardens.

One of the secondary bedrooms is a plain, but it's bright and a good size.

The casual family room has big sunlight.

Another secondary bedroom with an open en-suite mirrors the others.

In the back of the 2.05 acre property are two large tiered decks, a patio, and a free-style pool with a rock feature.

[carmillascrusade]

Bleeding Hearts| Vanessa (SB) x F!Reader

I do not own any of these photos and all rights go to the owners. If you know the artist of the middle photo, please let me know!

Summary: Vanessa comes home after one of her shifts with a young boy in tow.

Word count: 1419

A/N: this is my first fanfic that I have written so please be kind! Also I’m not sure if this counts as angst or not? So I’ll just say hurt/comfort lmao. Also, this is based on security breach Vanessa instead of film Vanessa.

The sun rose in the east. Red and orange flames flickering whimsically in the depths of the horizon, but melancholic despite the beauty of their hue. The hand holding the lamp continues to rise, lifting the ball of fire further into the still morning sky. An arc of luminance bestows itself upon the horizon; mirrored in the crystal waters of the rainwater puddles scattered in your front garden, devoid of all colour but that of the rising sun.

Vanessa stumbled through the front door, a sunken look marred her features; casting a gloomy shadow over her hollowed face, once radiant with joy. Behind her trailed a small boy, scratches and bruises littering his face with an array of discolouration. His eyes fell to you and he grabbed hold of Vanessa’s hand, shielding himself behind her body from your peering eyes.

“Vanessa?” You reached out cautiously, afraid that moving too fast or speaking too loudly would spook her. “What happened? Are you alright?”

Vanessa threw herself upon you, latching on to you as a frightened babe would their mother. You stroked your hands through the hair that had escaped her once pristine ponytail, now tattered with flyaways and grime.

She stayed in your grasp for what felt like aeons, sobbing incoherently in the crook of your shoulder. The small boy still stood behind her, eyes stripped of any emotions besides fear. Who was the boy and what had happened to him?

“Vanessa, my love.” You murmured into her ear, causing her eyes to snap up towards you. “Who’s your little friend?” You asked, gesturing briefly towards the boy.

“Oh.” She sighed shakily. “He has nowhere else to go. Please can he stay here with us? Just until we find somewhere more suitable.” She pleaded voice tinged with something akin to regret.

You glanced between the two of them as you let go of Vanessa and gingerly approached the boy. Crouching down to his eye level you asked him his name and if her would like to check out the spare room with you.

Gregory, as you just learned, anxiously followed you to the spare room, glancing back at Vanessa from time to time. You showed him the bed and the en-suite and apologised for the lack of pyjamas you had for him.

Shouting Vanessa in, you asked them if they were hungry to which they shook their head stating that they were both just tired. Nodding, you tucked Gregory in wishing him a good night and brought Vanessa to your shared bedroom. She trailed behind you sluggishly, resting the majority of her weight on your back and you navigated throughout the house.

“Would you like a bath, Nessa? Or would you prefer to go straight to bed?” You asked, already beginning to undress her from her security clothing. A muttered bed was all you got in return as she moved pliantly with your soft gestures. You hummed quietly as you sat her on the bed, moving towards the dresser to grab her a pair of pyjamas.

Once finished changing her and wiping some of the dirt from her face with a wet wipe, you climbed into bed next to her; pressing a kiss to her forehead before turning out the bedside lamp.

You were woken by the soft creak of the bedroom door, a slither of light briefly casting a warm glow in the dark confines of your bedroom. A small figure wearily stepped into the room, blocking the light partially to cast an ominous shadow over your bed.

“Gregory?” You called out groggily. “Are you okay?”

Gregory walked further into your room and shut the door, you could barely make out his hand wringing together due to the newfound darkness. Vanessa’s soft snores filled the room as Gregory approached you, shyly asking if he could sleep in your bed as he had a nightmare.

Your eyes softened as you looked upon the frail boy, shaking with nerves and the lingering adrenaline from his nightmare. Tapping the bed, you gestured for Gregory to get in between you and Vanessa. He excitedly jumped up and settled in, muttering a quiet ‘haven’t slept in a real bed for so long’.

Your heart broke at the thought of this sweet boy lacking a proper bed and the conditions he must have been subject to before Vanessa brought him home. Watching the two of them slumber peacefully before you closed your eyes, you decided that you’d speak to Vanessa in the morning about adopting Gregory.

Vanessa was awoken by a small hand gently slapping her on the face. She scrunched her nose in confusion. Why had your hands shrunk all of a sudden?

Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she was greeted by the sight of Gregory curled up into your side; one of his hands flung over Vanessa’s face while the other Liddell gripped your T-shirt. Your head rested atop his, one hand flung over him and resting on Vanessa’s hip as you smiled in your sleep.

Vanessa grinned softly at this, her previous worries of you not liking Gregory flying out of the window. Perhaps you would consider taking him in? After all, he had saved her and she found it only fair to do the same.

She pressed a soft kiss to your lips, careful not to rouse you from your sleep, as she got out of bed. Trudging to the kitchen to make breakfast for the three of you, she pulled out her phone and quit her security guard job immediately. All that job has ever brought was pain and it was about time she quit.

Soft footsteps could be heard down the hallway as Vanessa was scouting her phone for new jobs. You wrapped your hands around her neck, pressing up against her back as you lazily rested your head on her shoulder. Peeking at her phone screen, you kissed her cheek before speaking.

“Looking for a new job?” You questioned, although it was more of a statement.

“Hmmm, I think it’s about time I get another job. Don’t you agree?” She turned to face you, eyes flickering to your lips and back up to your eyes again.

Kissing her delicately on the lips, you started to run your fingers through her hair. “You know I’ll support you in whatever you choose to do, sweetheart.”

You looked over to the eggs that were about to burn due to Vanessa getting distracted and chuckled slightly as you went over the save them. A burst of courage came over you as your back was turned, Vanessa unable to see your face and you hers.

“So…” you started. “About Gregory,”

“What about him?”

“What do you plan on doing with him?”

Vanessa went silent. The only noise coming from you plating three sets of breakfast up. You turned towards her and handed her her plate, putting Gregory’s in the oven for later.

“Like I said before, Nessy, I will always support you in what you choose to do. And if you want to adopt Gregory then I will back you in that. If you don’t, that’s okay too.” You whispered into her ear, hugging her with your free arm.

She looked up at you with tear-filled eyes, the crystal clear substance just on the brink of falling over the but never reaching the turning point. A soft smile graced your features as you brushed away the beginning of tears with the pads of your thumbs.

“Oh, Vanessa.” You coed.

“I- I want to keep him, baby.” She stuttered, averting her gaze from your prying eyes. Why would you think of her now? The two of you have never spoken about children before. Would you leave her?

You were overjoyed at the prospect of adopting Gregory. Tears threatened to overcome your own eyes and you brought Vanessa into a tight hug. You didn’t want this moment to end.

“I’m so glad you said that! I wanted to keep him too. I’ve always wanted a family with you, ness. Although untraditional, I’m glad we have this opportunity to do so.”

Vanessa was awestruck at your willingness to accept, not only her, but Gregory into your life. You were her light in the darkness. Her lifeline. You shone brighter than the sun to Vanessa and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I love you.” She whispered over and over again like prayer. For she would worship you for the rest of your lives; just as you will her.

A/N II: thank you for taking the time to read this and I hope you enjoyed?