#ah i remember this moment so dearly

[zhongrin]

skilled fingers, devious heart

© zhongrin | 2024  ✼  no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡

✼ characters ┈ al haitham

✼ tags ┈ minors dni, fem-bodied reader (reader has a pussy), bratty!reader, manhandling, restraints, orgasm denial/control, edging, brat taming, light degradation, oral, light spanking, overstimulation, hint of c█rr█pt█d!haitham (hence he has his mean moments), aftercare, longfic (3.6k+)

✼ a/n ┈ “let me just draft a quick birthday oneshot for al haitham!” ー meirin, a total clown, circa 2024 /silly ..... anyways, happy birthday to the silliest man in sumeru. i love him dearly and i love that his bday is literally just a day away from my mom and one of my besties. very convenient to remember lol also, happy chinese new year!!! ✨

ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ)  ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

when you asked your boyfriend what he wanted to do for his birthday, you didn't think he would ask for this. then again, al haitham was mostly an unpredictable man, even to you as his lover. he seemed to have a knack for constantly having you on your toes, always anticipating his next actions and reminding you how much of a complex individual he was despite his simple aspirations in life.

such as now, when he requested you to ‘spread your legs and stay still’.

contrary to him, your answer was - at least in his eyes - predictable. a raise of eyebrows, a fox-like grin tugging on your lips, and al haitham could already hear the smug tone of your voice before you could even spoke the words, “make me.”

the fact that you loved to play a dangerous game with a dangerous man always came back to bite you in the ass, but your boyfriend played his part so well, it kept you coming back for more. he knew just the right way to respond to your challenge that made you shiver with want: muscles flexing as he pinned you down onto your shared bed, your preferred choice of restraints keeping you immobile and indecently spread for his blooming green eyes to observe. his pupils lined with brick reds dilated, the scholar stared at the resulting sight like a museum curator appraising an acclaimed artwork.

despite this, you were a fervent fire ablaze in the face of downpour, “it’s not like you to brute force your way into tackling a problem. was this morning’s session not enough for mister feeble scholar?”

ah. this artwork sure has a feisty personality to it.

al haitham snorted, his arm moving to place a hand on your inner thigh, tracing circles and indescribable patterns, “why do you bother futilely talking back and acting resilient in front of me, when it’s obvious how much power i hold over you? even the brightest students know to learn from their mistakes, so have you not learned from this morning about how powerless you are?”

he would never admit it, but while such display of bullheadedness irritated him when it came from other people, somehow it was almost adorable coming from you.

“wh- i'm not powerless!”

“the facts proved against your favor, however. especially considering how i’ve just succeeded in tossing you onto our bed and holding your body down. i know i could do whatever i wanted with you… and i was right, wasn’t i?” the hand holding your thigh squeezed briefly, his breath slowly caressing your skin the more he leaned closer, “besides, it’s also been proven that you like such treatments.”

you blushed, memories that proved his claims flooding your mind. yet, you huffed and looked away in hope to alleviate the warmth that was starting to bubble on your cheeks.

“so you might be needlessly strong physically, yes, okay, whatever. would you like a gold star for that?”

unfortunately(?) for you, despite the biting words, he didn’t miss the signs of your flustered state. his voice was as leveled as ever as more silken words fell from his lips; the very same ones you wished would just kiss you already, “remember how I pinned your hands above your head? how you tried kicking and wriggling, saying how you ‘can’t’ and yet… we both knew what exactly happened after that, don’t we?”

you felt your core clench at the taunt, throat swallowing at the picture he painted. your legs tugged against the straps as if you wanted to kick him. in turn, all you got back was an amused low chortle.

“cute,” the soft remark almost flew by you, but alas, before you could snap back at him, his touch started to trail further, tracing your labia before spreading the pink folds open with his fingers. an embarrassed squeak by you was followed by a condescending hum by your partner, his eyes zeroing on the slick coating your pretty clit and inner lips that oozed the remnants of your prior lovemaking, “and so mouthwateringly indecent.”

his digits dragged against your dripping cunt, a teasing smirk dancing on his face when a soft noise left your throat in response.

"such a mess," he remarked, infuriatingly nonchalant as if he hadn’t loved you so intensely just a few hours ago, “you were truly, completely cockdrunk last night, weren't you?"

“s-shut up…”

“why should i? you’ve mentioned how much you liked my voice. i doubt your perspectives had changed since then.”

“you don’t know that. maybe i don’t like it anymore,” you countered pettily.

“yet your body seems to arrive at a different conclusion,” the languid lull in his voice couldn’t mask the delight he experienced as he saw your sopping wetness drip with want. your lover smirked, dragging his finger up and down slowly, gathering your slick to circle around your swollen pearl, feathery touches leaving you wanting for more. the way you were shaking, your body twitching from sensitivity in return of his ministrations, was almost as hot as actual sex itself.

“ah… you meanie-” you inhaled sharply as this wicked, wicked man purposefully started rubbing your clit in the way he knew would make you putty in his hands. firm and calculated flicks followed by a finger slipping into your creamy cunt made you keen wantonly, thighs momentarily spreading wider before you found your decorum, rear falling back onto the soft sheets, teeth biting down on your bottom lip.

al haitham watched in fascination as you tried to regain your attitude. he wondered how long that would last this time. you were a puzzle that enthralled him, a chorus he wanted to listen forever. he might not have been studying under kshahrewar back in his younger days, but there was a part of him that wanted to pick you apart and put you back together again.

this was why he was so addicted to you.

he didn’t particularly enjoy doing extra work, but given the reward waiting for him at the end of the road, he determinedly doubled his action; one finger tapping and circling, the other knuckle-deep inside your tight heat, intense and unforgiving.

“fffuck- h-haitham-” the stutter of your needy voice sharpened his smirk, expression hardening into focus as he observed the twitch of your hips and the rivulets of juices coating his appendages. he briefly admired the way your skin glowed in perspiration, the way your fleshy parts rippled as you squirmed under him. no words could properly capture the desire brewing and consuming his whole being at having the privilege to witness such a sight.

he saw your breathing quicken, felt the clenching and unclenching of your walls, the way you started to move your hips as far as the restraints allowed, and your abdomen dipping as you inched nearer and nearer to bliss.

a mean glint of red, and his fingers withdrew quickly.

“wha- ah?”

you blinked and panted, eyes snapping wide as the coil loosened, and your sight settled on al haitham’s smug tilt of his head.

“i told you to stay still.”

“you… you prick! meanie! bastard!”

“that’s not the attitude you should be adapting given the current position of power,” he chided, before his hand deviously dropped back to its previous position, resuming in a much teasingly slower pace; a silent implication of what he could have done but chose not to, ”if you beg nicely, maybe i’ll allow you to cum. but be warned, you’ll be doing it until i am satisfied.”

“-son of a- oh! a-ah-” your words failed you as he added one extra finger into your warmth, prodding just near your favorite spot within the gummy walls, yet never directly.

you knew he could go deeper. he was dangling that carrot over you, and you were tempted to fall for his little game.

“pardon? what was that?” he asked, and if you didn’t see the way the corner of his lips curl up through your bleary eyes, you might have believed that he truly missed your barrages of insults born out of frustration, “would you like to say it louder?”

“archons, you- j-jerk!”

“oh?”

the sudden shift of his touch, turning firmer and faster, made you gasp and whimper, body twitching involuntarily as you felt the sensation build up yet again. your toes curl and your calves tensed, tugging against the harness as your biting words turned into needy moans. a shudder rocked your body, the back of your head digging onto the soft mattress as you felt him mouth on your collarbone, nibbling, tormenting in the most delectable way.

“use your words, darling. you were so smart with them just seconds ago.”

“haa- ngh! j-just let me cum, you unfair little-”

al haitham sighed like a disappointed tutor who had just discovered that his best student had earned an F in their recent exam. the sudden loss of his touch and the way you were forced to come down from that white-hot lines of satisfaction yet again made you cry out, the restraints straining noisily as you tried to buck onto something, anything.

a smirk returned onto his face as he witnessed your verbal and physical protest. that’s right, not yet. this was why he adored your stubbornness. he was going to tease and torment you until you were a total wreck, and then he would give you your reprieve in multitudes.

“how obstinate of you to continue denying your desires even when all outcomes dictate your loss,” the man remarked, palming your soft thighs and enjoying the way they dipped under the pressure of his hands. he was tempted to leave a few reds in the shape of his handprints, but he refrained… for now. that can come later.

“h-haitham….,” you mustered the wettest puppy eyes you could manifest - which wasn’t that hard considering the tears of pleasure already pooling in your eye lines - and blinking though your lashes at him, an adorable pout on your lips.

“what? is something missing to really help you release all of that tension?" he faked an indifferent tone fully meant to provoke.

you groaned, shivering as you felt the cold air brushing your flushed skin and swollen bundle of nerves begging for attention, “al haitham...!” you whined while quivering, eyes blown in desire, your pride refusing to budge any more than this.

the man smirked as your protests weakened with every seconds that ticked, the look of desire and lust in your eyes clearly increasing in intensity the more he reveled in your plight.

"hm?" he leaned forward to whisper in your ear, "still being stubborn?" he moved his middle finger towards the folds of your pussy, dragging it along your indecently leaking entrance and up into your aching clit, swirling slowly and making you shiver in response. even the smallest movements resulted in a sound that showcased how drenched you were, and it was all according to his plans, "are you sure you want to keep playing this game? you know who’s the more patient one in this relationship… you’re all tied up and i’m free to do this all day if i wanted to. i wouldn’t mind — it would be a good way to spend my day off.”

eyes teary, teeth gnawing on your lip, you bucked your hips as his finger touched the swollen nerves directly this time, "s-shut up...! you’re so- ugh! if you’re gonna be so cruel then don’t touch me at all!"

your beloved chuckled, dragging his digits up and down in the same teasing motion, playing with your sensitivity with a touch that sent you teetering to heaven but bordering to hell with how tortuously slow it was. he was a master as you were a slave to pleasure; your moans ramping up into wounded desperation just as he guided you back into the tightrope of lust, spiraling into the ecstasy you so desperately sought. you sobbed and trembled; heart beating loudly in your ears. you were so helplessly pent-up, so deliciously close-

“beg.”

the devil’s voice entered your ears and you grit your teeth. he wouldn’t, right? not for the third time. no, he wasn’t that despicable, he wouldn’t. he’ll give it to you, he’s-

“beg.”

the pressure lightened, and you inhaled sharply.

“please!” the word fell from your lips before you could stop them, “i need- i want…!”

your boyfriend stopped, a trail of your slick followed his appendages’ ascent as he withdrew to appreciate the stream of glistening slick coating your tender pussy and how your hips canted, trying to guilelessly chase his touch, throat singing a needy whine that sounded so beautiful he was almost tempted to keep denying your release for the next hour.

“haitham, please, please!” you sounded so high-pitched and so utterly adorable, he couldn’t help but place a peck on your thigh. tears of relief joined your tears of pleasure as you saw his pleased smile and the way he complied with your begging, though it still wasn’t enough.

“yes? don’t just call my name, darling. elaborate. go on, you can do it,” he carried on with the slow circles around your throbbing clit, fingers barely pumping into your drooling cunt.

“please! i can’t take it anymore…!" you hiccuped, keening, abdomen twitching, so sensitive that the slightest touch was making you toe on the brink of insanity.

al haitham smirked wickedly, watching as your mind and body were losing that self-control, your hips rocking back and forth while your face and eyes colored with pleasure. breathing in disarray, body a quivering mess, he almost wished he had a kamera to immortalize this perverse scene.

“are you asking me to help you release?”

“b-begging! i’m begging you- please let me cum!” you were definitely on the edge, shuddering, legs trying to flail against the tight bondage. a pleased groan rumbled in his throat, and his hand finally reverted into the pace and motions that made you see stars.

“louder,” a command.

“please help me cum!!!”

your muscles tensed as you tasted the precipice of bliss, your lips babbling, chanting his name and a series of undignified pleadings that implored him to not stop this time. you received an approving hum for your clear show of subservience and a soft peck on your cheek that made you moan in appreciation.

“i hope you didn’t forget what i said earlier,” he whispered against your ear, sultry and littered with hidden mischievous intent that you completely missed, too focused on reaching that high with each flick of his wrist and with each pressing prod of his finger—

the expertly placed thrust onto your g-spot was the cause of your crumble into depravity; walls sucking him in as your back arched in your climax. lips open in a silent scream, you missed the adoring look of your lover as he watched you spiral into bliss.

ah, your blissful ignorance is always so, so delicious to see.

before you could even start to wind down from your intense release, the sinful appendages picked up their salacious endeavors once more, three of them stirring your sopping wet mess and massaging your sweet spot relentlessly. al haitham’s mouth latched on your swollen bundle, his tongue flicking and sucking in turn, savoring your sweet taste and basking in your erotic cries that followed.

“can’t! can’t- too much! h-ah-ngh-!”

he ignored your feeble protests in favor of focusing on the task at hand; tongue lapping on the copious juices dribbling out of you as he pumped the slender fingers right onto your sensitive pussy’s weak spot. the sounds of your wetness echoed indecently in the room, a lewd orchestration of sensuality accompanied by your reprehensible babbling.

the second orgasm crashed against your senses and you sobbed, whining and jolting as he helped you ride it to your most satisfaction. eyes rolling, you barely registered the way he lapped at your juices like a man starved, before pulling back to observe the effect of his unholy actions. and he must have seen something, for when your vision cleared from euphoria, he had taken to caress you once again.

“one more. you can give me one more,” the rasp in his voice sent a jolt of desire in your loins, yet at the same time, the overstimulation had started to settle in. this time, the pleasure made your whole body tremor and for once you had no idea if the straps were a blessing or a curse; your limbs flailed and strained, instinctively writhing at the assault of stimulation.

“f-fuck! oh! a-archons- my love, please!!”

“i told you, didn’t i?” he purred, salacious and mocking, a flicker of red and a sneer, “’if you beg nicely, maybe i’ll allow you to cum. but be warned, you’ll be doing it until i am satisfied.’ well, my love, i am not yet satisfied.”

all senses of modesty had been thrown out of the window at this point. a series of disgraceful noises left your throat, tears running down your temples as you stayed rooted to your spot on the bed, oxytocin flooding your brain and numbing your senses. stringing words proved to be difficult when you were oversensitive and your lover seemed determined to see you mindless and utterly ruined by his touches.

if before, you were a helpless traveler stranded on a desert chasing on the mirage of an oasis, this time you felt like you were drowning in an ocean full of pleasure. all senses submerged in the ruthless waves of unbridled desires that made you both paralyzed and set you aflame.

“look at you,” al haitham's words came out harsh despite having a pleased hum to it as he battered your fleshy nub harder, insistent and undeterred by your unconvincing protests. he smirked, pleased with your cries and senseless noises leaving your lips, free from your brain’s usual filtering. your mind and body were already beyond your control as he slowly edged you closer and closer to that sweet release yet again. “so needy for me. gushing endlessly like you’re in heat.”

he watched you writhe and quake, a sliver of drool escaping the side of your opened mouth, his cock straining against the confines of his pants, but oh, he was enjoying every second of it. his free hand palmed your thigh before delivering a light slap, his eyes dilating when it made your breath hitch and your body jerk. each impact brought you to the absolute edge of delirium, and every time the pads of his fingers grind and stretched your gummy walls, the more debauched pleas left your emptied mind.

“c-cumming! cumming! i’m close, love, please! i’m- ah—”

“good,” it was almost sadistic, how he seemed to take so much satisfaction from seeing you so shamefully addicted to his mere fingers, “then come.”

a choked sob and a few insistent taps onto your oversensitive clit took your vision into a realm of whites. your finish was immaculately designed to enrapture you in a burst of nothingness, where nothing else mattered but you and your boyfriend's eloquent expertise. ears ringing, your consciousness temporarily froze in the state of heavenly rapture.

when you came down from the vivid paradise, you found your limbs freed from the restraints, your lover dutifully checking the reddened skin to make sure you hadn’t caused any injuries to yourself. seeing your glazed eyes settling onto his form, he leaned over and stroked your cheek, speaking in a soft voice with a caring tone far too detached from the demeaning and authoritative tone just moments ago.

“you did so well.”

though your senses were totally fried from the overstimulation and you still couldn’t exactly feel your limbs, a loopy grin spread on your lips. soft pair of green eyes watched you in adoration as he tucked you onto his chest, a gentle kiss descending on top of your head as he cradled you within his arms.

“verdict from one to ten?”

“mmmm…. twenty.”

“hm. it appears you’re still more delirious than i judged.”

a playful swat to his side was all you could manage, and you were rewarded with the rare soft laugh of your usually stoic lover.

“you’re adorable.”

“and you’re mean.”

“you speak as if the attitude does not bring you joy.”

“shut up and cuddle me.”

“ordering me around on my birthday? you’re spoiled.”

“and whose fault is that?”

“mine,” al haitham admitted with a smile, silently grateful for your presence, your witty banter, your hardheadedness, your loving eyes, your everything — you, who were undoubtedly and indubitably….

“mine,” he repeated and pressed another kiss, this time to your lips: a silent promise for spending his next birthdays with you once again.

bonus:

“still,” you sighed into his hold as your breathing steadied, looking up at him in half curiosity and half concern, “this doesn’t seem like a birthday present for you.”

al haitham looked down at you, the mischievous glint in his eyes returning. he guided your hand, and your small daydream of him being unusually romantic to initiate hand holding before spewing some cheesy lines like in those light novels were dashed when you found a familiar hardness twitching against your palm.

“bold of you to you think that my appetizer was the main course.”

✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ) ┈ @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @sunnshineflxwer | @yuutasbabe | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @marina-and-the-memes | @mixed-kester | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @sassy-cat-in-town | @syrenkitsune | @smokipoki | @cakeboxie | @crystalflygeo | @ciexuvia | @illaasya | @celestewritestoomuch | @pams-comfortzone | @spidermanluvr444 | @ourstrawberryclouds | @ryuryuryuyurboat | @hrts4hanniehae | @fiannee | @jingyuansbird | @florapocalypses | @genshin-impacts-me | @scarasmood | @hellcatinnc

[radioisntdead]

Hey! I really liked your headcanon about Alastor. It’s got my imagination running wild >_< What do you think about a romantic! Oneshot with Alastor where everyone can see the results of the biting game on both us and Alastor (assuming we both break skin and leave marks). I’m not sure how Alastor would be caught without his coat on, much less with with short sleeves… maybe a spilled drink on a hot day. But I keep imagining this scenario:

Angel: Asks Alastor if he had a rough night after seeing his arms covered in bites (assuming rough sexy time)

Alastor: Responds yes (remembering how he got cornered and couldn’t get away because using his shadows to escape is against the rules of the game)

Angel: :O

Good evening my dear! Thank you so much for requesting this I had so much fun writing it and I'm so glad you liked my Alastor biting headcanons!

And because I positively adore and I am mildly obsessed with deers I think that's why I like Alastor so much? The reader has deer attributes like Alastor Specifically whitetail deers because apparently they can jump eight feet in the air! And the reader jumps a bunch, reader is refered to as Prancer by Angel, I'm not gonna lie I had no idea how to end it so the ending is rushed! and everything is a tad bit messy, my apologies, Full italics is a mini flashback

Warnings!!

Biting, the drawing out of blood, the reader's blood is a vibrant pink for fun! Angel dust alluding to sexual acts, Still getting used to writing Alastor so once again leaning into fanon and possibly some OOC behaviors.

not proofread because I don't have a beta reader, Enjoy!

The two of you hadn't meant to get so carried away, it started out peacefully enough, you and Alastor were just laying on couch he had in his radio tower, it was later in the night, you suppose it was just past midnight,

He was looking over papers with whatever radio nonsense on them for tomorrow's broadcast, and you were peacefully reading a book with your head on his shoulder, with soft jazz playing in the background, your jackets were hung neatly on the coat rack, a warm cup of coffee and a nice soothing [Drink of your choice] sat on the desk.

It was treasured peaceful moment, until your beloved strawberry-flavored Bambi decided to ruin it by picking up your arm and biting into it like it was beef jerky and looking like someone had shot him with a tranquilizer dart,

You sat up quickly, your arm still in his grasp, eyes narrowed at him as he pulled away from your arm, licking away the escaping blood like the little cannibalistic freak he is

"Alastor, My darling dear, why are you like this?"

You ask with an exasperated tone as your dearly beloved just kept a smug grin on his face and patted the sides of his mouth with a handkerchief he had gotten from hell knows where,

Sitting up, you blink slowly before immediately pouncing at the Radio demon, your own sharp teeth bared and ready to bite only for your beloved deer to move out of the way and quickly moving behind you as you fall face first into where Alastor once sat,

"Ah, you have to be quicker then that my dear!"

He said with a laugh before turning around to grab his coat, clearly not expecting you to stand up on his couch like a uncivilized heathen and jump on him managing to knock him off his feet? Hooves? Whatever he has and sink your teeth into his exposed neck.

And so the game begun with the both of you biting each other.

Unfortunately this little game of yours comes with consequences and what are those consequences?

Well for starters Alastor's coat was now stained with noticable pink blood [From you of course who else!]

Bite marks littered his arms from your chompin' down, not to mention you had bitten his neck! scandalous behavior!

You weren't much better with bite marks though not only on both of your arms but shoulders, and hands, hell he almost bit your face and he would've if you didn't headbutt him!

You had grabbed his coat along with a few other articles of blood covered clothing you gently folded and placed them in a bag to take over to the drycleaners, honestly you could probably get the blood stains out with cold water but neither you nor Alastor had time for that and while you adored Niffty you did NOT trust her with washing some of the articles of clothing that you had, so the drycleaners it was!

Alastor was up in his radio tower doing a broadcast while Everyone else was scattered through the hotel, notably Angel dust and Husk were chatting about something at the bar as you walked by it you gave them a quick wave.

"Good afternoon you two! I'm heading to the drycleaners if anyone asks."

You said as you quickly made your way past the duo, making a swift plot convenient exit.

Angel dust raised an eyebrow as he briefly caught the sight of teeth marks on your wrist from the exposed hem of your sweater.

"Eh, didn't think they had it in em' to do anything beyond handholding"

"They don't, Probably they probably bit by that fucked up creature of theirs."

Husk said sliding a glass over to Angel who shrugged before downing whatever liquid was in the glass.

Alastor had entered the bar area, after a couple of minutes later, wearing a red button up and vest, the same colors as his normal attire, he had rolled up his sleeves during the broadcast and unfortunately forgot to unroll them to cover the bite marks on his arms,

He missed his usual attire but unfortunately it was gone with you for the foreseeable future.

"Oo, Rough night freaky face?''

Angel dust joked wiggling his eyebrows as he swirled whatever alcoholic drink Husk had provided him while Husk shook his head while wiping a glass.

"Yes, I suppose you could say that."

Alastor said his smile tightening as he recalled you cornering him in the Bayou in your shared room, Alastor wasn't the type to run away typically, even less the type to give up easily even to his beloved spouse,

unfortunately for him though,

The little game of yours had some rules, such as no leaving any marks on facial areas, No tearing off any chunks of flesh {Gonna love having a spouse with cannibalistic tendencies}, and No using any type of power the two of you had, which means good ol' Alastor couldn't use his funky lil' shadows

And that made him more vulnerable to his deranged spouse's tackling strategy.

"Alastor get out of the tree,"

"No."

You had no idea how you ended up chasing your spouse into a tree, you don't know how he even got INTO the tree, but he sat upon it kicking his legs back and forth like a gleeful child, staring down at you, for someone who's a deer he's oddly cat like,

You sighed turning around and walking away as your beloved laughed in taunting tone

"Running off so soon dearest? And here I thought you- aCK"

Alastor was cut off by you running back, hurling yourself off the ground and tackling him like a feral flying squirrel onto the ground.

Blinking away at the memory Alastor returned his focus to Angel dust's gobsmacked expression that turned into a grin as he laughed while Husk moved further into the bar shaking his head.

"I was jokin' around, but sounds like you and prancer actually got freaky!''

"Pardon me, we w̸̧̢͉̦̟̭̪͕̉͘ḩ̷̛̛̤̬͖̿͆̈́͘â̸͔͔̣̊̿ẗ̴̖̦̆̔͛̿̎̾̆̚͠?"

Thank you for tuning in folks! My apologies for the messy one shot, but I have a Vox x reader that's almost done that's more put together, and a more put together Alastor fic, Anyways I hope you all have a wonderful day!

[justanotherescapism]

I need more homelander!!!

I have homie brainrot,feed my hunger please!

A/N: The homie brainrot is real...

Read my mind

Pairing: Homelander x Fem!Supe!Reader

Tags/TW: Established relationship, references to childhood abuse, reader is telepathic, a lil angsty, slight spoilers for season 4

Word count: 1142

Psychic waited at the table of the seven, they were all waiting on Homelander. He was late for yet another meeting. She knew that he was under a lot of stress but lately it had gotten a lot worse, maybe it was this whole starlighter stuff and Neuman. 

“Hey Psychic, can’t you read his mind and find out where he is?” Deep asked.

“No, I promised I wouldn’t read his mind. Doesn’t matter anyways, unless he is close enough I can’t.” Psychic shifted in her seat, as the Deep whispered an insult under his breath. If Homelander knew what he had said, he’d have his head, but he still was nowhere to be seen. Regardless, they would wait until he showed up, everyone but Psychic was scared of him. 

Then just like that, Homelander came bursting through the doors. 

“Sorry, I’m late guys, just got caught up is all. So, now that you are here,” Homelander was going on about his latest plan, but he was smiling through gritted teeth and that’s all that Psychic noticed. His jaw was clenched too and hands gripped the chair a little too hard. He was agitated but she had no idea why. 

“Deep blow A-Train.” That snapped her out of thoughts. 

“What?” He said.

“Get on your knees and blow A-Train, really.” Homelander started to laugh but it was sinister. The deep stood up looking at the other seven to see what they thought. His face turned red. Psychic couldn’t deny that she enjoyed seeing him squirm a little, after all, he wasn’t her favorite teammate. 

“Sexuality is a spectrum, bro.” A-Train looked just as uncomfortable as Deep. Homelander stopped them before Deep actually did anything, much to the relief of them both. Psychic caught Homelander’s eye and he quickly looked away from you, as much as you enjoyed seeing Deep squirm she was still uncomfortable with the whole thing, and he knew that. 

After the meeting, she didn’t even bother sticking around, just rushing straight off to their shared apartment. Walking out onto the balcony, she breathed in the fresh air. She loved Homelander but sometimes he was too much. She looked down at the city, saw a woman walking alone, she sunk her thoughts into her, and soon enough their thoughts intertwined. The woman was on her way home to her partner who she loved dearly, she had no anxiety, no fear of him and it was refreshing to feel for Psychic. Most people aren’t with the strongest supe ever, sometimes it’s nice to pretend she wasn’t, for a moment anyway. 

“Whose head are you fiddling with today?” Homelander snapped Psychic out of her trance, making her jump to one side. Before relaxing when she saw who it was. 

“Just some random woman.”

“Ah.” They stood looking at the city in silence. She keep picking at her fingers, tearing small bits of skin off. Homelander noticed and took her hand in his. “You shouldn’t do that, you’ll make your fingers all sore again.” He kissed where she had been scratching. Her heart melted a little before remembering the meeting.

“Are we going to talk about the meeting?”

“Do we have to?”

“I think we should.”

“Okay, go ahead.”

“Are you okay? You have been erratic recently.”

“Have I?”

“Yes, you know you have. You avoided my eye in the meeting, you only do that when you know I don’t like something.”

“Or maybe I just didn’t want to look at you?” Homelander regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth, but he was stubborn and wouldn’t let it go. She didn’t even respond, just turning away from him, looking out to the otherside of the city. Her eyes were welling up with tears but she would rather die than let him see. 

“You’re a dick.” She finally said, and walked back into the balcony. She made herself a glass of water, downing it. Homelander remained on the balcony for a moment, thinking about what he would say now. He did this all the time, took things too far, and it was hurting her, the one person he did not want to hurt. When he walked in, she was on the couch, laying down, defeated. He lifted her head up, sitting down and placing her head on his lap. Slowly stroking her hair, he still struggled with what to say. There are only so many ways to apologize and quite frankly he had exhausted them all. 

“I’m sorry.” He said, meekly. She looked up at him. Her watery eyes were searching his. 

“Please just talk to me.” Her voice was barely above a whisper but that didn’t matter. Homelander took a deep breath, pursing his lips after. He was conflicted, and Psychic didn’t have to read his mind to know it. 

“I’m just…read my mind.” 

“What?” She sat up, shocked at his request. Never in all the time they had been together had he asked her to read his mind. 

“I want you to read my mind.” 

“I promised you I wouldn’t.”

“I know. Please do it.”

“Okay.” She braced herself, slowly she began to seep into his mind. His was tougher to decode, his thoughts were rapidly racing around. Reaching out, she finally understood the rhythm and began to sync with them. 

Homelander was scared, scared about ageing, death and his legacy. Ryan wasn’t like him and he knew that was okay but deep down he wants Ryan to be like him, not for vanity but for acceptance. She thought that was all, she didn’t want to probe further but then something was blazing in his mind, it had its own corner, shut away. Psychic reached for it. All she could see was a room? A white room, and lots of pain. He was led out of the room and into a darker one. He was crying, then there was red and the heat, god it was burning him alive. The pain was like none she had ever felt.

It pulled her out of her trance, screaming and rubbing her skin, crying and moaning. Homelander tried to get her to calm down but nothing seemed to work, she was hysterical. He knew exactly what memory she had seen, he didn’t want her to see that but it was so hard to repress the thought sometimes. 

“I’m sorry, you’re safe, I promise they aren’t going to hurt you.” He cradled her head against his chest and soon enough her breathing began to steady itself. She reached up to his face, looking deeply into his eyes. Her eyes were ablaze, fiery and angry. He had never seen her this way. He would’ve been scared, if he wasn’t Homelander. 

“Where are they?” She asked. Standing and walking towards the balcony.

“What? Why?”

“We are going to hurt them like they hurt you.” 

[melodic-haze]

MORE SAD SUB ARLECCHINO. PLEASE. I NEED TO EAT. like shes in absolute TEARS SHES SO ME I LOVE HER PLEASE FEED ME MORE.

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Arlecchino x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: A lil petplay (it's like one paragraph)

☆ — NOTES: I lied about not writing for this week lol I needed a distraction. Anyway combined these two bc they worked very sillily together hope yall don't mind 🫶 also YES I DO REMEMBER YOU 🎀 anon w my first ask about Arle :333

Oh man oh man oh MANNN I wanna do soooo many things to her auhfhthgh

Much as I ADORE absolutely ruining this absolute UNIT of a woman, I also want to take care of her and dote on her so much to the point where she fucking cries from being treated so well UGHHHHH

I feel like there are times at night when she remembers what she had lost in order to get to where she is right now (the chance to have a life that went in a more conventional direction, along w ESPECIALLY Clervie) and while she has learned to deal with the feeling itself in solitary, whenever you see her look out the window she is no longer The Knave—this was Peruere, a lonely girl yearning for something from so long ago

Even when she seems like such a self-assured person, all that composure threatens to fall into pieces the moment you, the one she now holds so achingly dearly in her heart, go to hug her and tell her that she's no longer alone :( no matter how many times you tell her or no matter how many times this scene repeats, it will never stop affecting her so deeply :(((((

I do think that she actually does love to sit on your lap. Sure, maybe it's kinda unnecessary and even more than a little embarrassing, but it makes her feel cared for instead of the way around that she's used to 🫶

"Who would've known that the real reason why you like being on my lap was for this, though..?"

You curled your fingers up in order to emphasise your point, hitting that specific spot within her that forces out a strangled gasp as her thighs make a feeble attempt to close themselves off.. despite the fact that you were comfortably sat right in-between.

Arlecchino makes no effort to answer you properly right away with one of her ever-so-composed words of wisdom or whatever they may be—she opts to tuck her head into the crook of your neck as fat tears roll down her cheeks, your skin almost as wet as her drooling cunt that you just can't get enough of.

(Her makeup is smudged too, though by this point it doesn't really seem like she cares.)

Though with the way your other hand was wrapped around her, softly stroking her back as if soothing your crying mess, and the way her own arms were clinging onto you, you both knew there was so much more to this position beyond your carnal actions.

Something much more emotionally charged, something much more than she usually let herself handle.

And perhaps it might also be because you had been at this for a while; your little lapdog was desperate for a release every time.. only for you to take the chance away from her, as if faking your pet out of her sweet treat. You couldn't help but play with her a little, not when her reactions are often the sweetest—uncharacteristic whines making its way out of her lips as she pleads you to fuck her silly, to--

"--make me forget for a brief moment, please-- ah..!"

And as her loving partner, of course you'd want to comfort her in whatever way you can.

"I'll make you forget your very title, Peruere."

"Please--"

Especially if it means fucking her until all that longing is long gone.

Need her to go from crying about who she had to kill to crying about who she ended up gaining in the end (and crying about how you make her feel too :3)

Just softly tell her that you love her, sing her praises, take care of her, kiss the tears rolling down her face, give her everything that she hadn't been meant to have or hadn't even realised she could ever have as the 'monster' her past has created

I just really really wanna spoil her and make her cry by overwhelming her with so much affection she doesn't know what to do with as someone who doesn't often let such things dictate her actions dude idk 🤷‍��️

[severinageto]

No more goodbyes (or rest in peace, Gojo Satoru) ————— drabble (word count: 849)

Satoru could not precisely measure how much time had passed without him, but he was acutely aware of how he felt. He recalled him as young and vibrant, or as an adult nursing a hangover, yet always moving his lips gracefully, gently—as though he were doing the world a favor simply by existing—while he spoke of the universe and its eons.

“Come on, I’ve told you, Satoru. An eon. A period of time spanning hundreds of millions, even billions of years. In geology, it’s used to…”

But as he crossed the threshold, Satoru could no longer remember its geological significance; all he grasped was the feeling that it measured the exact duration of their separation. To a mere mortal, it was just years, but a mere mortal could never comprehend, nor even begin to discern the void his absence had carved into his chest.

Ah, but it was all over now. He was already with the others, laughing in the terminal. His heart had ceased to beat, his lungs had stopped drawing in air, and his blood no longer flowed. He shouldn’t have felt anything, except perhaps tranquility.

Yet, as quickly as they had come, they vanished. Satoru found himself alone in a long boarding area.

The dreadful void had returned.

Why couldn’t they let him rest?

He hadn’t even had the chance to say goodbye.

Amid the roar of engines and the scent of kerosene, he walked through the vast, white horizon toward an eternal north, sensing an unseen force pulling him forward. His feet trudged heavily, one after the other, leaving him unable to distinguish whether it was hours or days. All he knew was that there existed the tiniest, most infinitesimal chance of returning, and that was why he couldn’t look back.

Apparently, they needed him.

Burdened by the loss of that fleeting moment of solace shared with his friends and his beloved, he halted just before boarding. A revelation, one of those insights that fortunate souls encounter in their darkest hours, dawned upon him: he owed nothing to anyone. He had given them all he could. His mind, his body, his life.

No. He would not surrender his soul.

Resolute, he dashed through the space, his gaze forever fixed upon the vault of the heavens. Acrux, the brightest star of all, pointed him toward the direction he was meant to follow, the path he had always intended to take.

And then, he saw him again. Suguru was there, leaning against a nonexistent column, wearing that serene smile he had so dearly missed.

No longer at the airport, but at the station. Of course. His beloved Aquarian was a creature of trains.

“Ah, you’re late,” Suguru remarked, arms crossed beneath his ornate monk robes, feigning annoyance. “Again.”

A soft laugh escaped Satoru, relief flooding through him. That was the voice, the tone he had longed to hear for so long. Just his. Not Nanami’s, not Haibara’s, much less Masamichi’s. The crystalline, delicate notes that only Suguru could produce were the only sounds he wished to hear in that dimension. Even when he scolded him. In truth, he could listen to those reprimands for all eternity.

“I was busy, you know, saving the world… once again,” Satoru shrugged, ambling toward him with slow steps.

“You mean ‘attempting’ to save the world.”

“You say tomatoes, I say potatoes…” Satoru replied, playing with his haori.

Suguru bestowed upon him a tender smile. He had known his lover’s fate the moment he arrived in that place. That was why he had waited and waited, for the cruelty that the cards foretold for the one he had loved most had to be countered with his greetings and embraces. It could be no other way. Just as he was born to accompany him, so too had he died to wait for him.

When they were close enough, Satoru extended a hand, almost as if fearing this might all be a new illusion. But when his fingers brushed against Suguru’s warm skin, the pain he had carried for so long dissipated. He was there, real, tangible. His long hair, his weary yet sensual eyes, his smooth skin, his leader’s attire. As magnificent as the day he had seen him depart.

“No more goodbyes, right?” Suguru murmured, taking Satoru’s hand.

“No more goodbyes,” Satoru echoed, smiling as he pulled him closer.

The void was supplanted by a peace he had never known. He understood it existed; he had read about it, heard whispers of it, even believed he had sensed it at some point in his life. But no. He had never truly experienced what it was to embrace Suguru without the fear of having his most cherished desire snatched away. What it was, after all, love in its purest form.

A train halted beside them. Suguru climbed aboard and offered his hand.

“To the south?” he inquired, smiling with his feline eyes.

“To the south,” Satoru replied, his smile the most genuine, the grandest, the brightest he had ever offered in life.

A smile that only true peace could bring forth.

————————— image by https://x.com/nejmai2?s=21

[kedsandtubesocks]

you, my golden hour

Rancher!Javier Peña x Cowgirl!Reader

summary: 1997. as a fallen rodeo star, you can handle anything - except maybe your city’s hometown hero

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, Post Season 3 Javi works on his family’s ranch AU, unspecified age gap (only age mention is reader can drink and Javi is older), major pining & yearning, emotional hurt & comfort, light angst with tender fluff, reader has a backstory and family, no physical description of reader but gendered language is used and reader can ride a horse, use of pet/nicknames, mention/description of rodeo accident, themes of dealing with burnout, small texas town toxicity, light Spanish use, reader & javi having insecurities they bond/heal over, bar scene with alcohol consumption, spicy moments with allusions to smut, intense makeout where Javi gets handsy, soft!Javi, dreamy & protective!Javi

word count: 10.2k (I’m sorry)

a/n: the second installment of ‘let’s rodeo’ and my love letter to Javi & Texas, the heart of this series - this fic is near & dear to me and I just appreciate getting the chance to write this, so to @lowlights @ahauntedcowboy & @perotovar for giving me the courage to post this know I’m so grateful… and to you reading this thank you, so dearly appreciate you too ♡

You haven’t thought of Javier Peña in years.

Older than you, he was handsome and had a smile that rivaled the Texas Friday night lights. He eventually hooked up with the number one town sweetheart who was even rumored to have won a local state beauty contest.

By the time you heard of their engagement, you already had started your plans for the circuits, for the road. You didn’t mourn or even feel heartbroken over the news.

Even after that, the rodeo consumed you. It kept you in a tornado like whirl for years until that fateful day it spat you out.

When that ride stopped, Javier Peña came back into your mind with a strange fog-like entrance.

While still on bed rest, the news on the TV had been showing a small special on the War on Drugs and the lull of it filled the room.

Your grandmother was the one who brought him up.

“That’s what Chucho’s son is involved in.”

“Wait, Javier Peña’s into drugs?” You asked a bit confused even without the pain killers.

“No. He’s going after the people who sell drugs.” She clarified.

Oh.

“He also didn’t get married either. Do you remember?” She had added.

You did. You heard he left the little Miss Homecoming Queen at the altar. Quite a scandal that made him the talk of the town for a while.

Then he became a big shot drug enforcer who took down one of the largest drug cartels in history and he again became the talk of the town.

It’s been a few years since your accident and now Javier Peña is back home.

Now driving into the Peña ranch you feel both so young, yet so aged at the same time, like you’re stuck between two realities.

Your sister bounces out of the truck with uncontainable glee and you’re grateful she’s excited.

Chucho Peña comes to greet everyone. His classic cream cowboy hat and gentle smile are all a beautiful welcome. It’s also adorable seeing your grandpa reunite with his old friend.

Señor Peña’s kind eyes eventually land on you with a sweet twinkle.

“It’s good to see you, mija.”

You’ve always adored Chucho Peña.

His son on the other hand…

You never knew Javier enough to fully know him. Even with his dad and your grandpa being pals, the years between you and Javier didn’t help. He existed outside your orbit, a figure almost out of reach.

“And that son of yours!?” Your grandpa of course perks up asking about him.

“Ah sí Javi’s here, just out in the stables.” Chucho explains casually.

The last time you physically saw Javier Peña he was walking out of the bank. You’d been waiting in your family truck when he stepped out. By that point, a small bit of shadow was forming against his jaw and upper lip as his facial hair began to grow thick. He was a young man on the verge of stepping into the threshold of being grown.

Now before you he’s a fully grown man.

For a minute you think the man in the barn is someone else because it doesn’t seem like Javier.

Yet when he turns, you see his eyes.

Rich soil of the earth stunning eyes and you know it’s him.

His body has filled out and his shoulders even look broader. He sports a similar mustache like his father’s and it adds to his older appearance. There’s a weathered weariness on his face evident in the wrinkles carved out by his eyes and on his forehead.

The button up shirt he’s wearing allows a peek at his chest and his skin shines with sweat from the Texas sun already shining its warmth.

He’s breathtakingly stunning and you can’t take your eyes off him.

He warmly greets your grandpa with a wide smile that touches his eyes and brightens his face. He’s still that charming young man you saw, a brilliant comet out of your galaxy.

But then his gaze lands on you and his eyes narrow. A conflicting recognition and confusion swirl in his eyes. He knows you, seems to remember you, but not fully.

His dad clarifies your name and you deflate a bit. Then Javier’s eyes go wide and his eyebrows shoot into his hairline.

So, he does remember you.

“Oh, yeah. Good to see you.” He nods fully realizing who you are.

“Guess the horse must be for you then?” Javier adds and your heart sinks a bit.

A grimace tugs on your face but you try recovering quickly.

“No mijo,” Chucho thankfully answers quick and gentle. “I told you, it’s for her hermanita.”

You grin small and tight in agreement.

“Oh…yeah of course.” He nods.

Your little sister immediately jumps in bright and eager to share her excitement. Thankfully the focus effortlessly shifts to her and the reason why you’re all here.

The horse is beautiful, playful and eager for attention. This first meeting already feels good. Of course, everyone holds their breaths when your sister goes for the ride.

And it couldn’t have gone more smoothly.

You even exhale relieved.

“You seemed nervous.” A smooth warm voice comes out besides you.

As you lean against the ring’s fence you discover Javier Peña moving to rest beside you.

“Just like the first day of school kinda nerves. Want to make sure everything goes smoothly.” You answer as your sister effortlessly trots around the ring with ease.

“Yeah, I bet. They already seem to be clicking.” Javier notes genuine and you’re grateful too.

Your grandfather now calls out to you.

Both you and Javier turn towards where the older men stand close to each other like conspiring headaches.

“To celebrate, we’re having dinner here!” Your grandpa cheers happily and a dread drop kicks your heart.

Immediately you stammer out panicked about how you all can’t impose.

“No pasa nada, mija.” Senor Peña gently reassures you saying not to worry. “Besides, you’re all more than welcome here. It’s been a while since Javi and I had guests.”

You don’t miss the unashamed hum Javier makes.

“And grandma?” You reply, trying to reach for more excuses not to stay.

“She can walk.” Your sister teases suddenly and you give her a sharp look.

“Will you go pick her up, please?” Your grandpa gives you his best pleading face before simply throwing the truck keys to you

Stubborn old man.

“Hijo,” Señor Peña calls out again, but this time to his son. “You should go too.”

Shit.

“No Pop, it’s okay!” Javi politely declines and you want to second that.

“Aye,” His dad chides and then he pointedly gives Javier a look that screams - Don’t be rude, go with her.

Damn.

The walk to the truck is quiet, awkward as hell, feels like two parents shoving their kids together to play nice.

Heading into the main part of town, silence fills most of the drive. You're also mentally kicking yourself for not getting the radio fixed last week like you should’ve.

“So uh, your grandma…still volunteering at the women’s shelter?” Until Javier offers a small branch of conversation.

“Yup.” You nod.

“Oh good, that’s good.” He replies.

But silence returns.

“So, you taking a break from the rodeo then? Pop used to tell me about you all the time.” Javier comments light, casual.

You feel like a cat with its hairs standing up. But even with that sensation, knowing Señor Peña spoke so fondly of you does simmer the sting.

“Sort of.” You decide to rip this off like a bandaid, get it over with now. “Had a bad accident a while back. Still haven’t decided if I wanna return.”

It’s been two years since you’ve been home.

“Oh…” Javier’s voice drops, the same way everyone does when you tell them.

“I’m sorry.” Except you’re surprise at how sincerely soft his voice is. “I thought I heard something about it. I should’ve fucking remembered… Sorry.”

He apologizes again, surprising you once more as genuine repentance floats off his voice.

You thank him understandingly. After all, it's one of the better responses you’ve been given. But you don’t want to dig into this, especially with him, so you quickly change the conversation.

“So how long are you here for? I’m sure there must be other drug cartels waiting for you to take them down.” You offer casual.

Not only had he taken down Pablo Escobar a while back, you briefly heard of his very recent grand move against the other cartel in Columbia.

He’s impressive, the town’s hero and golden boy.

“Uh actually, I’m retired. Gonna take a step back for a bit.” Javier answers just as polite and calm as you had answered him.

Oh. You hadn’t heard that. Or maybe you did and forgot.

You now feel like the foolish one and genuinely congratulate him.

“It takes a lot to decide when to step away. Besides, you deserve a break after all you did.” You mean those words.

After all, they were the same comforting words his father told you when you came back home.

A pause fills the truck and you worry you’ve maybe overstepped.

“I…yeah.” Javier breathes out. “Thanks. Appreciate that.”

Your heart flutters at how small and genuine he sounds.

“So…how about them Dallas Cowboys, huh?” Javier offers light and for some reason you laugh.

It’s not much, but it feels like a lifeline.

When you arrive to pick up your grandmother she gasps so giddy when she sees the surprise guest with you. Her excitement lights up the drive while she talks about her day taking full advantage of having Javier listening to her.

“Oh I’m so glad you’re back home safe Javi!” She gushes and then says your name.

You’re already panicking.

“With so many of your friends living out of town, maybe you’ll get to spend more time back in the city with Javier!?” She offers to you brightly and absolute horror seizes your heart.

Shooting a petrified face at her you silently plead for this discussion to die.

Javier in the back seat weakly laughs. Because of course Javier, ever the gentleman, had your grams sitting up front.

“Oh don’t give me that look.” Your grandma playfully teases back at you. “At least go rent a movie with him.”

The thought crosses your mind about turning around and dropping her back off.

“Did you know,” Javier innocently jumps in. “The first ever blockbuster was opened in Dallas?”

Your grandma coos in awe as if he’s just explained a miracle.

“See! Now you have to go with him to one!” She urges.

A horrified indignant noise escapes you. While behind you, Javier snickers even more and you’re tempted to drop him off on the side of the road to let the coyotes feast on him.

The minute you arrive at the Peña’s home you can’t get out of the truck fast enough.

Dinner fortunately goes smooth and you’re surprised at how eased the rest of the time unfolds. You do hate how many times your eyes flicker towards Javier like if you’re still trying to soak him in.

Then, from across the table, Javier’s gaze flickers to you fast catching you staring red handed. Your heart transforms into a jackrabbit, petrified and thumping fast, almost making you flee right then and there.

Until your grandpa addresses you. His warm eyes dance with a surprise in his gaze.

“We’ve decided to have some of your sister's training here.”

Your heart now skips over itself.

Your gramps and sister both explain the plan hatched while you were on the road. In order to get used to competing in different spaces, your sister decided to train here at the Peña’s.

You’re hesitant, but understand the logic. You’re even impressed. But you can’t pinpoint why you’re so nervous about this.

Señor Peña now calls to you, sensing your hesitation, and tenderly grins.

“Don’t worry mija,” his kind eyes crinkle with understanding. “It’s no trouble at all.”

His reassurance is grace and you smile back relieved while thanking him deeply.

“Seems like you’re the boss here.” Javier suddenly joins in with a casual tone and you freeze.

“Well yeah, that’s my coach you’re talking to.” Your sister proudly declares.

“Coach?” Javier’s voice perks up curious.

“Yeah.” You answer with a small smile. “That’s me.”

“Been barking orders at me all these years so why not put her in charge.” Your sister innocently adds and in pure sobbing annoyance you want to shove her face into her plate.

Thankfully everyone laughs, illuminating the room.

But you’re faced with a new reality. You’re going to be here more, seeing Javier Peña more.

And you don’t know how you feel about that yet.

-

The Peña ranch in the morning sits tranquil and the peace gives you the focus on training.

You’re surprised at how good your sister and the mare already bond. You explain a few drills and have your sister run a few repetitions of them.

“You sound like a tough one.” Javier’s voice surprises you and you almost jump over the fence.

Glancing back, he approaches you with two thermoses.

“Pop and I thought you might need an extra pick me up.” He offers and you can’t help but greedily grab at it.

“Tell your dad thanks and that he’s a saint.”

Javier snorts at your reply.

Now your focus returns to your sister. You recommend a type of turning drill vividly remember doing yourself. Your sister playfully salutes you and begins.

“How she looking, coach?” Him calling you ‘coach’ draws a dangerous electricity that snaps up your spine.

“Don’t call me coach.” You dryly tell him trying to keep yourself composed.

“Well isn’t that what you are?” He teases casually.

Your face scrunches up annoyed while his eyes crinkle amused.

“Don’t you have things to do, Javier Peña?” You sigh, already exhausted of this man.

“Javi…you can just call me Javi, coach.”

You’re tempted to childishly scoot away from him. Younger you would have never imagined he was this annoying.

“Don’t call me coach.” You dully repeat.

“Okay, coach.”

Now you contemplate just shoving him away.

But all the annoyance washes away when commotion hits. The horse makes a disgruntled whinny and immediately both you and Javier whip your attention towards the ring. Your sister calmly stays on the saddle, gently soothing down her companion.

After asking if she’s good, her eased thumbs up reassures you. She does a few trots to calm everyone down. You even exhale relieved.

“You lost in thought?” Javier comments.

“Yeah.” You answer him with a mutter. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

You almost don’t tell him. But you surprise yourself and do.

You explain the type of pace that comes with training in barrel racing. There’s a pattern and method to it all. You don’t realize you’ve rambled until you blink and realize Javier stares so directly at you. His eyebrows furrow slightly as if he’s focused hard listening to your words.

Embarrassed, you’re about to stammer out an apology when Javier whistles low.

“You know your fucking shit.” He nods appreciatively and hearing his pride ignites something dangerous in your chest.

Another surprise sharp whistle comes. Out from the barn, a further ways away, Chucho stands staring out. He even waves at you and you wave back.

“You gonna work today, hijo?” He calls out.

Javier curses under his breath.

“Busted.” You joke and now he’s the one side eying you.

“Please you’re the one slacking off here!” Your baby sister suddenly complains loud and cheeky “You’re not getting paid by the hour, coach!”

“Guess we’re both in trouble.” Javier snickers.

You roll your eyes but quickly sneer at your smiling sister.

“Alright then. See ya later…bandita.” Javier already walks away by the time you hear his goodbye.

But it hits you.

He thankfully stopped calling you coach. But now, what replaced it…

Little Bandit.

The nickname rips through you with a barbed fierceness you’re not prepared for.

The rest of the month follows this same routine.

On training days Javier shows up with something for you to drink. Once he even came with a few goods from the bakery across town.

No matter what, he watches practice with you for as long as he can before getting called back to the ranch.

During these moments together, he asks about how the turns are made or why you correct your sister when you do. It’s friendly. You actually start enjoying his company especially when your grandfather so eagerly leaves to hang out with Chucho instead.

The greetings and thanks are always the same.

“Thanks, Peña.”

“Javi,” he patiently corrects you everytime.

You can’t bring yourself to call him that just yet.

At the start of the new month everyone sleeps in and arrives later to the Peña’s ranch.

This time you’ve brought more barrels. Thankfully you can move them with the help of your sister. Suddenly besides you, boots clamor onto the truck and rapidly you snap your attention to the source of the sound.

Javier Peña smoothly climbs up to help you with the rest of the barrels.

He’s in a striking soft purple button up shirt. Sweat already shines against his bare arms. Thick worn in working gloves cover his hands. His hair seems a bit curlier today and he wears aviator sunglasses that suit his face.

Effortlessly Javier grabs onto one and lifts it by himself.

You’re stunned. Even your sister stops and stares just as surprised.

Javier is strong. Doesn’t seem like the muscular type but he’s built and radiates a type of seasoned strength of a well grown man, a rancher man.

His arms firmly hold the barrel, sturdy and toned, and you can’t look away.

“Where d’ya want me to put it?” Javier yells and you trip out of your thoughts to dumbly point where the barrel needs to be placed.

Your grandfather whistles proudly seeing Javier.

“If this rancher thing doesn’t work out for you Jav, you got the makings of a fine rodeo man.” Your grandpa teases.

Javier chuckles, with his eyes averted a bit bashful.

“Could add him to the team.” Your grandpa notes with a twinkling gleam of something mischievous.

You reply a dry no as you move to get off the truck.

In a flash, Javier jogs over and immediately reaches his hand out to help you get down. Placing your hand in his, Javier helps you down and you thank him.

He’s wearing gloves. This shouldn’t feel so significant. Yet the way he firmly holds your hand makes your heart sprout wings.

Even back on the solid dirt ground your legs don’t feel as if they’re under you.

Javier doesn’t stick around after that and you’re allowed to focus.

It’s later in the day, later than the usual practice times, and the Texas sun beats down with a fierceness. You call for more water breaks to keep everyone hydrated.

During a break, a rustling catches your attention. There towards the barn, Javi moves in and around the place.

You just catch the smallest glimpse of him with a hammer in his hand as he heads into the smaller enclosure. Curiosity gets the best of you.

Grabbing another water bottle you justify it as wanting to be polite, but curiosity gnaws at you.

The clang of hammering approaches louder and louder until you spot him in a goat pen. He hammers in a reinforced slab, probably fixing a hole. His back to you allows a glorious full sight of his broad shoulders at work.

He even switches to a drill and watching him casually use power tools, you never thought you’d find this so attractive.

One of the goats nearby makes a blep of a noise at your appearance and you almost want to shush them.

Javier glances over his shoulders spotting you.

“Hey there, bandita. Qué pasó?” he nods at you as the nickname flares up your heart.

“Just…knew how hot it was getting and gramps told me just to check up on you.” You lie waving the water bottle.

Javier turns to face you and you’re greeted with the sight of his full sweaty glory. You should be turned off seeing how bad his shirt sticks to him, how he smells of hay and dirt, but it’s incredibly hot.

The hard work of his day evident on every inch of him brews a dark cloud of desire in you.

“Oh well, tell your gramps thanks.” He replies snagging the water bottle from you.

His plus lips, the glorious sight of his thick slick neck, and the movement of the sweat just covering him as he drinks from the water bottle…

Getting this weak over the sight of him just drinking a water bottler you now think is the lowest you can go. You wonder about walking down by the river nearby and just jumping in to cool down.

From a distance, your sister yells out for you.

“Duty calls.” Javier smirks. With a sheepish smile you shrug then wave a quick goodbye.

You practically run out of that barn like a fleeing field mouse.

Later that night, alone in your room, your fingers slip under your sheets to slide under your sleep shorts. You imagine licking the sweat off Javier’s neck, picture his thick strong fingers, that fix up barns, hoist up barrels, and wonder how thick they would feel inside you.

You fall into desire’s blissful sticky release.

When you shower the next morning, you rationalize that those thoughts of Javier simply come from needing to scratch an itch.

Besides, you couldn’t get tangled with Javier. He’s older. He’s Laredo’s golden boy. He doesn’t go after broken cowgirls like you.

In the shower you turn the heat up more. A part of you hopes it will scorch off the building desire in your heart.

-

The morning is muggy, a soupy cloudy early day begging you to curl back into bed. Soft chirping echoes of the mockingbirds fill the air. You opted for earlier practices this week so your sister could prepare for a trip with her friends coming up. You agreed, wanting her to still enjoy moments outside of this.

“You out here all alone, bandita?” Javier.

He breaks the morning’s stillness. Holding his routine two drinks, he approaches you bundled up in a nice jacket that flatters him.

Thanking him, you greedily grab the drink and savor its warmth.

You explain that your sister is free roaming around the ranch this morning and it’s why you’re all alone. You stare at the empty riding area where the dirt sits holy and untouched.

“Do you miss it?” Javier asks. His voice is quietly probing, gentle as the morning mist.

That question holds a million answers all tied up in a messy knot.

“Sometimes.” You answer truthfully because you did. You missed the adrenaline, the wind blowing past you, speeding around a barrel so fast it was like you were out running the wind.

“Can I ask…” Javier and his soft, kind voice presses on. “What happened?”

Might as well. You’re now sort of friends with Javier even though the word feels sticky in your heart.

“You know that saying about how you just gotta get back on the horse? Well it's easier said than done.” You mutter.

It happened during a ride in Arizona. You’ve fallen and wrecked before. But this one just felt different. You took a barrel close and then everything slipped away. You remember being on the saddle, remember feeling your body float. Then the world went dark.

You woke up to a nasty concussion, a broken arm, and a couple of rowdy scrapes. You don’t remember your foot getting caught in the stirrup, but that’s what had happened.

“Holy fuck...” Javier breathes out, the weight of your words hang in his. “Shit I’m sorry.”

You thank him earnestly and reassure him it’s fine, just unfortunate shit like that happens. Everyone knew how dangerous the sport could get. The rodeo was a rough ride and every cowboy knew that.

But for you, you just couldn’t shake it off.

“I’m glad you made it out.” Sincerity blooms in his voice and your lips tug grateful at how considerate he is as you thank him again.

“You haven’t gone back?” Now he dances on a tight line.

“Nope. I tried after getting the clearance from the doctors but… it just didn’t go well.” You truthfully tell him.

You didn’t want to ride anymore, didn’t want to face everyone or the pressure of the race or the terror swallowing you whole. It felt as if you were burnt dry and exhausted from the inside out.

Your grandma gently embraced you and held you for what felt like hours.

“Then don’t go. You don’t have to do anything that makes you this worried and sick. Nothing is worth you being this scared, not even the damn rodeo.” She told you tenderly and with the most profoundly kind smile. You cried out of relief.

“It’s brave,” Javier says so firmly understanding. “Making a decision like that is really fucking brave, hard as fuck too.”

You gently grin and thank him again while blinking away a few tears.

“Same goes for you too.” You tell him.

From your gramps, who had gotten the full story from Chucho, you learned more about what happened with Javier and his final days in Columbia.

“I don’t know much but, what you did was brave too.” Your voice comes out softer than you expected.

He barks a laugh now. It’s dry, bitter, and can catch fire.

“Doesn't feel like it.”

You understand maybe more than he even knows. So you think about maybe what you would’ve told yourself.

“You did what was right.” You begin. “Everyone else might judge you or say shit but it doesn't matter. You’re not meant to please everyone or do what everyone expects you to do. And if that’s seen as a bad thing then…I don’t know, fuck them and fuck that.”

You say it so simply Javier busts out laughing. It’s a true blue laugh, so sweet it crinkles his beautiful dirt road eyes.

You’ve never seen him laugh like this before. And he’s beautiful.

You join in snickering as well but try to ignore the butterflies suddenly nesting in your stomach.

He’s really such a dream. A carved out Texas man so seasoned from the world, yet he still stays so kind and devoted to his family.

You get why many in the town, especially the girls during your time in high school, are all over him. Now you’re afraid you might’ve fallen into the same pit traps they did.

You’re falling under the spell of Javier Peña.

“So you’re really not going back to catching drug dealers and what not?” You ask when the laughter settles.

“I could’ve.” Javi answers. “Damn DEA would’ve taken me back. But…I just couldn’t see a future with it anymore.”

“And now here I am.” He says with a boyish soft grin.

“Now here you are”. You repeat with a nod.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” You truthfully tell him. You knew his dad worried about him. But the quiet truth is that you’re grateful for this time getting to know him now.

His eyes soften and your heat bursts.

“Thanks, glad I’m here. Glad you’re here too, bandita.” Then he softly nudges you. It’s playfully, friendly but it’s his words that almost take you out by the knees.

“Anyway, the government’s dumb. They don't deserve you.” You nod and Javier snorts amused.

“Guess I should listen to a cowgirl like you.” He teases.

You shrug. “Some people say I’m not one anymore.”

Especially because you didn’t ride anymore.

“Fuck them and fuck that.” He repeats your words and your lips twitch with a bubbling giggle.

Right now, it feels like you and him are two lonely birds sitting on a wire. Yet there’s something comforting about it, knowing it’s with him.

Then it dawns on you. You enjoy spending time with him. You know there’s desire already trickling in for him. But now he’s becoming someone precious to you.

You can’t even deny that anymore.

“Thanks, Javi.”

You don’t miss the way his eyebrows shoot up high.

Thunder roars suddenly clashing into the air interrupting the moment.

The dark clouds now loom on the horizon and coat the morning in an impending murkiness.

“Guess a storm’s coming in.” Javi mumbles.

Thankfully your sister rides back in quick and Javi decides to do some final things around the ranch before the storm rolls in. Before the rain comes, you and your sister pack up quickly. But it’s too late.

The rain pours down in a blink, almost like a hole in the sky popped to let a faucet drain out. The wind even picks up dangerously quick. It’s chaotic trying to wrangle the hose back to the stables but you and your sister manage.

“Come inside!” Gramps yells from the Peña’s porch and you and your sister scurry to the shaded sanctuary.

“You coming in?” Your sister asks while drying herself off with a towel. You don’t move from your spot by the steps.

“I’ll be in a bit.” You reassure her. She glares suspiciously and you shoo her away.

Javi hasn’t come back yet.

Noises clang out from the barn. A poisonous worry erupts through you and immediately you rush back out into the rain.

Inside the barn Javi tries yanking up a barn ladder that’s fallen over. It’s sturdy, wooden, and stuck in a hard position.

You move to help. Without any words or having to explain anything you both, as a team, work to yank the ladder out. Patiently and slowly the ladder gets moved to a spot the wind won’t knock it over.

The rush of it all has you breathing heavy.

“Thanks bandita.”

You breathlessly laugh and turn to maybe make a joke about now becoming a ranch hand and stealing his job. But all words, all thoughts, die instantly.

Having to work together to push the ladder, you now notice how close you are to him.

The sight of Javi soaked to the bone from the rain is corruptible. His clothes stick to him showing off his thick frame and shoulders. His drenched hair now seems darker with the curls more pounced.

He’s also heavily breathing too.

Now his lips, how soft and wet they look, have you hypnotized.

The pattering rain pours down hard on the roof, the only noise in the barn. You notice a shift in Javier. His eyes ever so slightly soften, almost hazing over. You might just be imaging it, but his face gradually seems to lean closer. Or maybe, you’re the one leaning towards him.

You’re possessed with an ache to kiss him, to see how the rain tastes on his lips.

It’s just you and him, soaked to the bone. You probably look like a drenched mess of a creature, but you’ve never wanted someone this much.

“Aye!”

Chucho suddenly shouts out from outside the barn and your heart stops.

Like a skittish roadrunner, you scramble away fast from Javier and just in time. His dad walks in from the other side of the barn holding an umbrella with an extra in his hand.

“You kids okay?” He calls out.

Both you and Javi yell back, quickly moving towards the elder Peña.

“You two look like a couple of soaked barn cats.” Chucho teases.

You weakly laugh and thank him for the umbrella.

Javi grumbles at his dad while he grabs the umbrella to open it up. Ever chivalrous, Javier holds it above you and him. Yet the entire walk to the house is quiet.

Fuck. Did you ruin this tentative whatever was forming between you and him? Or were you just imagining things?

You stay quiet the rest of the time waiting out the storm.

“You okay?” Your sister, keen as always, notices.

You lie with a smile saying the weather’s getting to you. When in reality, it’s a man that has.

Because you can’t stop thinking about Javier Peña now.

-

The rain stays for the rest of the week and everyone takes the schedule changes with stride. Your sister even heads out earlier on her trip earlier during a lighter drizzle.

By Saturday night the storm settles down.

Your closest friend from high school, now back in town for the month, even calls your home phone begging you to take advantage of the better weather.

“Look, before I go back to Florida let’s enjoy a nice night out, yeah? Maybe play some pool?” She pleads.

It’s how you now find yourself at the bar. You haven’t gotten dressed up in a while and you’re reminded of how nice it feels.

As much as you jokingly fussed about going out, being with your best friend laughing at the bar is lovely.

Ricky, one of the bartenders, actually was in the same grade as you two and it’s nice reminiscing, snickering over a nice drink.

“So how’s it been hanging out with Mr. Hero of the town himself?” Your friend smirks.

You make an unamused face at her while Ricky perks up.

“Wait, who are you hanging out with?” He whispers excitedly.

“Javier Peña.” Excitedly, she spills and you roll your eyes when Ricky gasps.

“You’ve fallen for the guy half the county is in love with!?” He hisses. You hate it, but it’s true and tastes soberly cold.

“Okay but practically all of our class was and maybe still is in love with him.” Your best friend adds.

“Well y’all do remember, he left Lorraine Wilson at the altar right?” Ricky reminds everyone and your mouth turns acidic.

“Oh fuck you’re right.” Your friend whispers.

“Might be bad news.” Ricky tensely tells you.

You want to hiss that he’s not like that. He’s kind, a bit annoying, but with a good heart.

“Shit, speak of the devil and he shall appear.” Ricky says in a low awed tone.

Worried you whip around to see what caught his attention. Absolute horror drowns you.

Javi and another man step into the bar and you want to run.

Your best friend squeals excited beside you, but you can’t comprehend what she says. Javier has stolen your attention.

Ricky called him the devil and he does seem like an angel dipped in temptation.

The sleek blazer he wears is dressed down by his nice button up shirt and jeans. His hair is styled nice, seeming so soft and begging for someone’s fingers to run through it. A buzz swarms in your head seeing him outside the ranch looking this gorgeous.

That’s when he spots you. For a split moment you two see each other. His eyes widen and before anyone can react you whip back towards the bar.

“Looks like you’re about to fall outta your seat.” Ricky snickers and you death glare at him.

“Okay,” your friend nudges you. “The guy he’s with, I think that’s David Martinez. He was in Peña’s class right? He’s so hot now, what the fuck?” She breathes out.

You almost toast to that because you felt the same about Javier.

So you keep your head down, enjoy your drink and maybe wonder about suggesting that game of pool your best friend advertised.

“Would you two beauties be alright with a bit of company?” A sweet male voice comes out and immediately draws the attention to him.

Behind you stands Javier Peña and his friend.

David has always been kind to your family and his mom even worked with your grandma at the shelter. You appreciate that Javi still hangs out with him.

“Yes of course. We’d love some company, right?” Your friend brightly asks you and you smile polite.

Your heart however rages like it’s a wild bucking bronco trying to break free.

The guys buy a round of drinks. Everyone laughs reminiscing about that one famous senior prank where the class managed to get two cows into the school.

The atmosphere is friendly, light. But your eyes constantly flicker nervously to Javi. You can’t stop staring at him, can’t stop thinking about him. Now here he is a Texas dream, or maybe your nightmare.

You turn back to take another sip and in that shift, your best friend turns to direct all her attention to David who moves to sit beside her.

But now Javier smoothly slides into the barstool next to you.

“Nice to see you outside the ranch.” His voice comes out smooth and rich.

You agree. But the air turns awkward, as if neither of you know how to tackle this new situation.

Suddenly heels clicking fast arrive. Standing to the side is a girl you recognize from your sister’s class that just graduated high school.

“Hi,” she smiles, staring at Javi with obvious hearts in her eyes.

He politely but cautiously greets her back.

“I was, um, wondering if you wanted to maybe dance with me?” She’s bold. You can at least appreciate that.

“My friends all dared me to ask you since it’s, ya know, you.” She gushes and giggles.

“Uh, appreciate the thought but I’ll have to pass, sorry.” He turns her down gently.

As if she finally realizes you even existed her eyes blink to you.

“Oh hey!” She recognizes you as an older sister to one of her classmates. And then for something else.

“Yeah didn’t you like, used to be a rodeo cowgirl or something and then something happened so now you’re not doing anything anymore?”

She’s being underlyingly mean. Her misleading chipper tone, vapid smile, are all soaked in venom meant to shake you or even scare Javi away from you.

But you’re used to it by now. You’re about to comment how she shouldn’t even be here.

Javier however speaks first and fast.

“Hey,” Javier’s voice jumps shockingly sharply, almost reprimanding. Your eyes go wide at how fast he reacts. He even glares at the girl.

Besides you, your best friend immediately turns around.

“Oh hey!” She greets the young newcomer. “Weren’t you that girl caught buying weed only for the cops to figure out you were actually buying oregano?”

Her cheerful tone makes you bust out a snort because yeah, she’s right.

The girl’s face falls absolutely mortified.

“Now get the fuck out of here.” Your dear friend finishes sweet but the undercurrent of her voice looms threatening. The disgraced girl rushes away before she can even reply.

You wheeze into your hand and fondly lean against your dearest sweet friend.

“If she or any of her little punk ass friends try anything again, I’ll shove my heel so far up their asses.” She reassures.

“Don’t worry,” Ricky now jumps in. “I’m definitely telling our bouncer those little shits managed to sneak in.”

Gratitude carves out an ocean in you and you’re thankful for those who understand.

David whistles appreciatively and your friend, with a reassuring squeeze to your shoulder, returns to her discussion with him.

You feel Javier’s eyes burning on you.

“Does shit like that happen often?” His concerned and low voice floats out among the music.

You shrug.

“Back when I first came back it did, but it's dying down.”

You were supposed to be a big rodeo star. You even had an official big name brand sponsorship lined up. But, after the accident, not returning to the rodeo painted you a failure in the eyes of the town.

Especially compared to its bright shining star you sit beside.

Suddenly a warmth slides over your hand resting on the bar. Javier squeezes your hand gently, a reassuring comfort.

“I’m sorry.” He mutters deeply sad. “S’fucking awful.”

You thank him, even make a dry joke about small town bullshit which earns you a small dry chuckle.

“The shit I got after Lorraine…” he sighs and now you find his hand doesn’t leave yours. You don’t want it to.

“I get it. Shit’s brutal.” He finishes, a steeled hardness lingering in his tone.

Now your hand squeezes his.

His eyes, gleaming tiger’s eyes gemstones, flicker up to you and you smile softly.

Javi’s hand feels so lovely. It's rough, a bit callous but cozy. Just like him.

“Hey!” Your best friend suddenly cheers. “Let’s dance!”

She interrupts the moment but you can’t blame her. A hesitant scrunched up reaction tugs at your face though.

“It’s a slow dance.” You waver.

“That’s the best kind! Come on!” She urges and you spot her hand already intertwining with the guy’s.

“You go,” you urge with a beaming grin. “I wanna finish my drink.”

“Aw, come on now bandita,” now Javi slides off his seat.

Standing up straight, he extends his hand out to you.

“You gotta at least get one dance in.” He smirks.

It’s just one dance and you don’t know if you’ll ever get another chance to dance with him. That thought alone outweighs the hesitation. Placing your hand in his, Javier leads you out to the dance floor.

Javi maintains a polite distance from you. Yet the faintest scent of his cologne floats off him, a siren’s song pure of temptation. His hand keeps yours in its protective hold while he gently guides you to the beat of the music.

Being this close to him clouds your focus in a tantalizing haze begging you to get lost in. But you can’t. You can’t even stare into his eyes. So your focus flickers out to the rest of the bar.

David and your best friend dance close, already getting cozy with each other. Then your eyes move to the door.

The bar’s bouncer sternly starts throwing the three girls out and the one you recognize stares at you with disgusted hatred.

You snort.

“What?” Javi mutters, his voice silky against the low music.

You nudge your head towards the bar’s entrance and Javi follows your gaze.

“Oh hey.” He comments, noticing the scene.

“Good riddance. Poor girl must be pissed seeing you dance with someone me though.” You mutter a bit gleeful at the thought.

“Wait, what?” Javi sounds insulted.

“Uh yeah,” you reply, confused. “I mean, it’s kinda funny. You’re Mr. hometown hero here with the town’s nobody.”

“No.” Javier snaps fast. “Anyone who says or believes that’s a pinché cabrón.”

They’re a fucking asshole and the way he speaks with a conviction refuses to allow any doubt to refute him.

“And besides…I’m not a hero.” That’s when Javi’s voice drops, transforming into a whisper tangled among the slow country ballad playing.

“I’m not that golden bullshit guy everyone thinks I am.” His voice contains a stinging rawness you recognize.

Now you’re the one snapping back at him.

“Yeah you are. You’re good, Javi.” You begin firm.

“You’re noble and kind. Brave.” The words flow from your heart and you don’t even stop them. “You’ve worked hard to help people. I’m sure there’s shit you regret and you might not think you’re good because of it, but you are.”

He stays silent. Only the tune of the slow jam settles between you and him. You’re worried you’ve maybe said something to upset him.

Then Javier exhales your name and it has never sounded so tender.

Your throat tightens and when you finally look at him, you’re greeted by a galaxy.

The lights of the bar dance in his dark road eyes that stare directly at you as if the rest of the bar has melted away. Javi’s hand gingerly against your back now slides down gently. In that same motion, he slowly begins drawing you to him.

You don’t resist and catch his eyes flickering to your lips.

A sudden clamoring collision erupts and startled, you clutch onto Javi.

The cause of the commotion is a man who tripped into some chairs. He effortlessly laughs it off. The group he’s with helps him up and you’re thankful it’s not a bar fight.

You sigh relaxed.

That’s when you notice Javier shifted to draw you closer to him. In an almost protective hold, he has you now close against his broad chest. His cologne smells divine, makes your mouth water.

Like a bolt of electricity striking you, you’re galvanized and scramble immediately out of his hold.

“Wait, bandita, what’s wrong? You okay?” He’s so concerned and you dare not look at him.

“Just need some air.” You reply moving away from Javi towards the door leading to the small patio outside.

Your best friend swiftly rushes to you.

“Hey, you okay?!”

You rapidly reassure her that you’re fine and just need air. You even joke about not being able to handle your drinks anymore.

“That fucker didn’t try anything, right?” She asks low and deadly.

You shake your head and squeeze her hand. It’s enough for her to let you leave. Your body operates on autopilot until you stumble into the night air.

It feels like you’re resurfacing. You move to lean against the railing and simply gather yourself.

You feel possessed again needing to kiss him.

And it’s not just that. You want all of him all the time now and it’s infesting you. You’re barely keeping your head above water or maybe you’re this far gone under the waves.

For a moment you think it might be drizzling again. Until you blink and realize the water against your eyes are tears threatening to spill.

You’re so afraid of how badly you want Javier, and how badly it might shatter right before your eyes.

Someone says your name cautiously.

Embarrassed, you turn towards the door.

Javi stands a few steps away from you. His handsome face crumbles instantly seeing you. Quickly he rushes to your side, as if on instinct wanting to help, until he stops.

“Bandita, are you okay!? Fuck… did I do this?” He stammers out worried.

“Did I overstep?” His voice is wrecked. He’s so apologetic already.

You shake your head trying to pathetically dab away the tears. Unable to look at Javier, your attention stays on the dark stretch of parking lot.

“I promise it’s not you. It’s me.” Maybe it will always just be you.

“Querida…”

Darling…he’s never called you that.

“Whatever it is, please let me help.” His voice pleads unbearably tender and you want to cry even more.

He really is so good, too good.

“I just…I just can’t take it...” you begin with a watery cough.

You finally look at him. The furrowed brows, his worried soaked eyes, concern paints him so young. You’re reminded of the young man you saw walking out of a bank all those years ago and how a piece of him stands before you now.

“I like you so much Javi.” Through the heartache, you finally admit it out loud. “Maybe even more than I wanna admit and I don't know if I can’t keep fighting it.”

His face scrunches up and his eyes rapidly scan over you.

“Fight it?” He mutters out. “Why fight it?”

Now you stare at him a bit confused. You have nothing to lose now. So you hold your heart out to him. You reveal it all…the fears and worries sprouting in your heart like uncomfortably cacti about how he deserves someone just as refined and established as him, that he'll eventually get bored of someone like you.

All your words come out hollow, especially thinking about how he can have anyone he wants.

Javier, suddenly in the middle of your ramble, interrupts, upset, snapping your name fiercely that any other words you want to say vanish.

“You’re the only one in this town who actually understands, who maybe even really fucking sees me.” He growls.

Your heart even jumps hearing how determined and raised his voice got.

“You…” Javi now chokes out and suddenly runs a hand over his face. Then his hands go to his hips. His eyes fall to the floor as if he’s taking a moment to gather himself.

“Fuck… you don’t even know what you do to me, how much you fucking mean to me.” Javier breathes and the words get caught in your ribs.

“Whenever you’re not around I can’t stand it. I just wanna be with you….all the damn time.” He coughs out as if he can’t even believe his words.

Those earth pool eyes of his flicker to you.

Under the watch of the clouded Texas deep night sky, it’s just you and him.

You don't know who moves first. Instead it feels like two magnets finally flinging together so fast the collision knocks you awake.

Because in a blink Javi’s hand holds face while his other yanks at your hips. Then he kisses you.

It’s all encompassing.

Immediately your hands scramble to claw at him, begging to get him as close as possible.

His mustache scrapes beautifully against your lips. You taste the beer lingering on his tongue and he’s divine. The wall of the bar suddenly hits your back.

Now you’re flush against him, fully pinned under all of Javier, and you moan. His tongue with hungered finesse licks into your mouth. One hand stays firmly holding your face while his other runs across your body trying to map you out.

His hips rut against yours and you go dizzy with aching raw need.

“Mi pretty bebita, so good to me.” He whispers out thick and heavy. You whine wanting him more, wanting him inside you every way possible. Everything feels molten.

Javi playfully bites your bottom lip and your knees almost buckle. Your mind simply chants for him.

A clash of teeth, a burning heat devours you while you chase every taste of Javier that he gives. It’s an unleashing of something raw and aching, as if finally you can breathe against him while something inside you whispers yes, yes you and I are here and you don’t want to ever leave.

A sudden droplet plops onto your head. You ignore it especially when your tongue swipes against Javi’s and he groans out the most heavenly noise.

A few more large obvious water drops come.

You and Javi freeze, halting mid make out like a paused VHS tape.

Then the rain arrives.

“Shit!” Javi coughs out immediately pulling away. He quickly shrugs off his blazer and drapes it over you, a makeshift umbrella.

Filled by the most buoyant bliss, you laugh.

Javier snorts, shaking his head but he must sense it too, all of it amongst the rain.

And it’s beautiful.

-

“I’m surprised you don’t wear this as much.” Javier comments as he picks up your Stetson cowboy hat.

He’s shirtless, only wearing his jeans. You’re treated to his bare broad shoulders and wonderfully sweet ass in his jeans. It’s an utterly devastating combo.

Sitting on your bed waiting to settle in for the night with him, you shrug.

You didn’t expect him to be so curious and constantly snooping around anytime he’s in your bedroom. Then again, you still can’t believe he’s even in your bedroom.

Sneaking away that the first weekend after the bar didn’t last long though.

Your grandma caught him a few Sunday mornings later trying to sneak out and she ran to you screaming excitedly when she could start planning the wedding. You still haven’t recovered from that.

Even with the blessings from both sides, including Chucho and your gramps, you still wanted to just enjoy being with Javi in these intimate carved out spaces.

His presence already is crystallizing here. His wallet and packs of nicotine gum clutter the night stand. His extra pair of sunglasses sit beside yours on the dresser. His faded worn Texas A&M University t-shirt is tossed by the bed and his boots are by the door. You treasure it all.

Javi, now standing in front of you, places the cowboy hat on top of your head.

The familiar presence of wearing it is like greeting an old friend. You bashfully grin at your handsome rancher. Javier’s eyes gloss over you, taking in the sight. His hand moves to tenderly hold your face.

“You look good, like a true damn cowgirl.” He mutters and your heart flutters against its cage.

“Know you can ride like one now too,” his voice dips with a magnetic undertone as his words hold the heavily sexual double meaning.

You playfully smack his shoulder and he smirks.

“I’m still surprised you don’t call me cowgirl instead of bandita.” You note gently.

“Do you mind that I call you that?” One of his eyebrows lifts up curiously.

No, you didn’t mind at all. You were just curious and you even tell him that.

Javi snorts and his thumb now strokes your cheek.

“The way Pop used to talk about you and how you’d race made you sound like some wild bandit trying to outrun outlaws or something.”

You snort now and your fondness for Chucho Peña triples.

“And then,” Javier continues. “When I met you, I knew I was fucked.”

Now your face scrunches up confused and you ask why. A small charming grin tugs his lips.

“Cause the minute I saw you glaring at me in the barn you stole every fucking inch of me.”

Javi’s thumb now moves to run over your lip and desire bubbles in you. You kiss his thumb, delicate and reverent.

“My pretty little bandit.” His voice is low, a fond rumble in his chest that you want to drown in as much as you can.

You think of all the awards you’ve won, the tournaments you’ve faced. Yet they all seem to fall so short to those words, to this man you so endlessly adore.

In your cowboy hat, you yank Javi close and kiss him. Quickly you and him both tumble into your bed sheets, melting against each other in pure bliss.

In the afterglow, you snatch up the cowboy hat again and now place it on Javi’s head. Your gruff rancher's face twists into a grumpy frown and you grin giddy.

“You look good, a classic Texas man.” You compliment him, almost mirroring the words he told you.

His face scrunches up more.

“Always thought I looked stupid wearing these.” He huffs taking off the Stetson.

“Everybody looks good in a cowboy hat.” You reply truthfully and place the hat back on him.

“Especially you.” You add letting your hand slide across his bare chest. The sight of him in the cowboy hat, your cowboy hat, flickers to life the simmering heat from earlier. He’s already so beautiful and now a cowboy hat on, shirtless, with the dimming post sex glow radiating from him, he’s personified sin.

“Cowboy hat doing it for ya, huh?” Javi’s little cocky smirk has you glaring playfully at him.

“Shut up.” You huff but then swiftly kiss him. Soon enough you become one again with the man taking root in your heart.

Early the next morning, when he thinks you’re asleep, Javier’s fingertips trace over your face with butterfly wing delicateness.

“So fuckin’ crazy about you, baby.” He whispers to your unknowing sleeping form. You feel your heart blossom, a morning bloom wanting to keep him tangled in your soul for as long as he’ll stay.

You think again of two lonely birds on the wire, maybe not so lonely anymore.

With a soft kiss goodbye against your forehead Javi heads out and you soak molten in his words.

You end up not seeing him for a few days. Over the phone he explains, annoyed, of having to run around trying to find a specific fence wire and how it’s kept him away.

Even with how much you miss him, it does allow you space.

Earlier this month, you decided on a new training schedule. Each week would alternate between practice at the Peña’s ranch and yours.

Currently practice is at your family’s ranch.

“Next time you talk to that boyfriend of yours, tell him to get tacos from that place he got us lunch from last time.” Your sister yells as she finishes up a few drills around the ring.

You roll your eyes. “He isn’t a food delivery service.”

She simply shrugs.

The day is winding down. Early evening approaches and the Texas sun starts to bathe everything in a golden glaze straight out of a George Strait song.

“You know…I’m happy for you.” As you and her start putting everything away for the day, your sister casually drops that line.

“About what?” You smirk.

“You and Javi.” She clarifies. Her face is messy with sweat but she beams bright. “You deserve someone like him.”

Your sister, always so kind, maybe too kind for a world this harsh sometimes.

“What? Someone who always manages to steal the last biscuit or flirts with grandma more and more everyday?” You tease and your little sister snickers.

“Well yeah. But what I mean is…you deserve someone who sees how great you are.”

Her words crash into you with a tidal wave of emotions. Her attention rests with her horse, getting in a few final brushes before she turns in for the day.

“I know you… think you’re some sort of failure or that you’re not good. But you are. You’re actually the fucking best.” She says so simply. “And I’m happy Javi sees it too.”

Tears clog your eyes and dry out your throat.

“You sound like a bad hallmark card.” You laugh watery but the gratitude flows out.

Your sister glares then throws the grooming brush at you. You laugh harder when she misses and once she’s out of the stable you playfully shove her.

“You heading back?” She notices your slow pace that hangs back.

You reassure her you’ll be home in a minute and just need a few minutes to yourself. With an understanding nod she walks back to the house.

Now alone you head to the very last stable and head to your ace. You miss your old companion and seeing this sweet creature nudge his muzzle against your hand conjures a sad nostalgic tug in your heart.

Grabbing the saddle, and untangling the reign, you head out to the ring.

You’ve been talking about your old rodeo days with Javi a lot recently. You ask him about Columbia as well. In the sacred soft space of pillow talk. you and him gently unravel more memories, more secrets to each other. It’s made you nostalgic, even a bit wistful.

Plus, you haven’t done this in a while. You frequently rode at a leisurely place along the trails by the river from time to time. But getting into the ring is still so sacred.

With your horse all set, you hoist yourself up and onto the saddle.

Just a few laps is all you do. You focus on the sound of the dirt under the hooves, the light breeze on your face, the feel of riding again.

Then, after gaining more confidence, you speed up.

It’s not even close to the speeds you used to hit, but it’s quick. You even make a lap around the ring going this speed.

One rotation, one good lap and you’re soaring.

It’s nothing. It’s not even an attempt to get back into the rhythm of racing. But it’s a ride and home in its own way.

You slow down, let the horse trot out of his groove to calm down. The entire time, your chest feels so light.

Your eyes glance out and then your heart drops.

Javi, with his flat out jaw dropped, stares at you as if you’ve spouted wings. You didn’t even hear him approach.

He breathes out your name.

Scrambling, a bit embarrassed, you quickly dismount, and after guiding the horse to the side you rush towards him.

You’re about to apologize for not noticing him when Javier ends up speaking first.

“You’re incredible.” He exhales in awe and it knocks the wind from you.

He must see whatever emotion colors your face because he repeats himself again firmer.

“You’re amazing, bandita.”

You weakly laugh thanking him.

“Does that mean-”

“Nah,” you gently cut him off and explain how you just enjoy a ride like that from time to time.

“It’s like just taking a casual drive type thing.” You shrug.

Suddenly Javi’s hand moves to rest on your arm leaning against the fence. He rubs so soft and comfortingly.

“Thank you,” he says gently. “For letting me know you.”

You want him to know every inch of you. The same way you want to know Javier in every way that you can. You want to carve out a home in your heart for him.

The hand that was on your arm moves to your cheek tilting your face towards his. He wears his classic aviator sunglasses you’ve grown fond of stealing from him.

He’s so gorgeous. It’s like the Texas sun was made to bask Javi in its glow. He’s a modern Helios, beautifully crafted with his deep earthy eyes and golden face.

“Proud of you, mi bandita.” He mutters with words soaked in adoration.

You swallow hard and let the truth sink into you.

“Thank you Javi… I’m proud of you too.” You earnestly tell him.

He snorts bashfully and you think you might be doomed to think about this man forever now, but it’s alright.

There’s something foreign in your chest growing so bright you feel as if you’ve swallowed a sun and maybe you have. Because Javier is bright, so unexpectedly warm.

A man crafted right out of the Texas golden magic hour.

And as Javi leans forward to kiss you so tenderly, you step forward into the sun, into his kaleidoscopic glow and it’s beautiful.

[kairiscorner]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEEEE IM BEGGING 29 FROM THE DIALOGUE PROMPT WITH EX-HUSBAND CO PARENT MIGUEL WHO WE’RE STILL IN LOVE WITH BUT HE ACCIDENTALLY TAUGHT GABRIELLA TO CUSS IN SPANISH WHILE SHE WAS WITH HIM FOR THE WEEKEND OR SOMETHING😭💕 I LITERALLY LOVE ALL YOUR WORK SMM TAKE YOUR TIME🥹🩷🩷

HIIII omg THANK YOUUU and i love that idea wHAT i hope you like this !!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

i didn't teach her that. – divorced!co-parent!miguel o'hara x divorced!co-parent!reader

miguel's car was parked in the driveway, with miguel himself helping gabriella out of the car and walking her up to you. she greeted you with a big hug as she came inside to change her clothes and taking off her shoes, leaving you and miguel out here by the patio. it was just two adults, two adults who used to be married to each other... but now just two adults who are forced to see each other for the sake of their daughter. "how was she?" you asked him promptly as you leaned against the doorway of your house. "oh, as bright and darling as usual. my mom came over, and so did gabri--they took care of her more than i would've liked to myself." he said as he looked away from you, feeling the heavy tension between you two still, even though your divorce had happened years ago.

you couldn't shake off the awkwardness between you two, you were both stuck in a weird limbo, you both were in a checkmate with each other. and no matter how much it hurt for you to think you used to be married, you used to be in love with this man... you couldn't hate him. in fact, you loved him dearly still. being divorced to him didn't change the fact you loved him, that you still love him; it also didn't change the fact you had to see him more than you thought would be good for either of you due to gabriella, it didn't change the fact he was the father of your child and had every right to see her.

you nodded as you opened the door a little wider, with a small voice in your head asking you what the hell you were doing. "wanna, y'know... come in?" you asked him in an awkward voice as he looked at you in slight surprise. "ah, sure, sure. thank you." he said as he stepped in as you opened the door wider for him. you hated how kind he sounded right then and there, how soft he became. 'this isn't the guy i divorced, that guy was a piece of shit. who's this guy really? he can't be miguel, no way...' you thought to yourself as you shut the door, hearing gabriella and miguel's faint conversation from far away in the kitchen.

the father and daughter were laughing together as miguel picked her up and spun her around. you remember when he used to do that when gabriella was a toddler, when neither of you had any problems towards each other, when all was blissful and sweet... when life was good. you abruptly stopped reminiscing the beautiful moments you all shared as a family when gabriella called you back to reality, asking you if you wanted to play some soccer outside with her as her goalie, with miguel being dragged by her outside. you chuckled and agreed, following her and miguel outside.

you two played a few good rounds, with miguel being the referee and keeping track of every time gabriella scored a goal. though when gabriella kicked the ball too hard and the ball was thrown into the top of a tree in your yard, she muttered something you could not believe would come out of her mouth. "mierda, puta madre!" your daughter exclaimed in frustration as you turned your head to her, asking yourself if you heard her right. "what did you say, young lady? do you even know what those words mean, dear?" you asked her in a stern tone as she froze up and turned to look at you.

"um... papa says those words all the time when... when he gets angry over the phone..." she muttered in a semi-frightened way, as if she didn't realize what she did wrong when you looked at her angrily and furrowed your eyebrows at her. your expression softened as you realized she didn't mean to cuss, it was her father's influence.

you breathed in deeply and exhaled, smiling at her, you knelt down to her level and pat her head as you called miguel over. "gabi, baby, please go to your room. your papa and i have a lot to talk about." you said as you glared at miguel when you turned your head to face him, with miguel gulping and going over behind gabi, holding her by her shoulders as if she could protect him from your rage. "gabi, as your papa, i say protect me from the dragon that is about to breathe fire on me." he murmured as you gently pulled gabi to you and led her into the house as you shut the sliding door and smiled at miguel a little too sweetly.

miguel backed away slowly as you took one of your slippers on the steps into the house and, while smiling all the while, approached him and raised your hand to smack him with your slipper repeatedly, scolding him for teaching your daughter to have a foul mouth and for not even being responsible enough for teaching her not to repeat what he says. "but muñeca, please! i'm sorry, i'm really sorry! i didn't think she'd repeat what i say, believe me!" he tried pleading with you as you kept swatting at him with your slipper. "like hell i can believe you of all people on anything you say anymore!" "even... even if i told you that i still loved you, you really wouldn't believe me? because, i... look, i still love you, querida, okay?! at least... at least believe me there, because nothing else could be truer!" he blurted out in a genuine, sad tone as you kept hitting him, but soon stopped as his words sunk in.

he loved you.

he loves you.

he still loves you.

but like hell you could believe him anymore.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @fiannee @arachnoia @melovetitties @meeom @fictarian @yuridopted0 @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok

[mschievousx]

now and then | b.b.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x ofc, anthony bridgerton x ofc (platonic)

summary: loraine silva always knew she was not normal. she loves unusual things. she love her father's guns, horses, boxing, climbing a tree, falling from a tree, engineering, astronomy... oh, and a man eleven years older.

series masterlist

ii. two: you felt so happy

the first ball, certainly one of the highlights of the season. it is indeed as grand as people have talked about. the lights, the decorations, the flowers, the performances—they were perfect. on top of that, loraine is a night person, which is why the ton should prepare for a doubled exuberance.

arriving a bit late than most other families who were so eager to catch a match for their offsprings, the silvas entered the hall together as raine compliments with awe.

"lady danbury's balls are always extraordinary, truly worthy of hosting the first of every season."

armand turned to her with an incredulous look, "agatha does not have balls."

she deadpanned at her father and discreetly whisper-yelled, "oh, heavens! stop trying to get us beheaded all the time!"

"it do makes me wonder why i haven't told the queen to behead you yet, armand." the host's voice engulfed them from behind. they both turned to her with a sheepish grin.

"lady danbury, it's a wonderful... ball." raine applaused after letting go of her father, "i must go and greet the queen."

she walked straight away, looking at armand one last time as she put both her fists up in shoulder level as if to cheer him on. the man could do nothing but offer a death smile to his daughter.

as rebellious as she is, raine is still of noble and respectful upbringing. we will not reveal that she did think twice if she should greet the queen or she can just go straight to the drinks. she did end up choosing to greet her. that is what matters, right?

and so she bowed gracefully to her. duty done. as she stood back up, with an utter pretentious smile, she was more than excited to make her way to the beverages.

"loraine," the queen called with familiarity and her steps halted, turning to her majesty once again. ah, so she's speaking as a family friend and not the queen.

"whatever is that sparkling on your leg?"

raine was confused for a moment, before she remembered what she could have possibly put their that was shiny. she turned back to her with a mischievous smirk.

"just an accessory, aunt lottie. it's a must-have."

she replied with full confidence, despite the fact that it is quite clearly shaped like a dagger. of course, it is an accessory. it can be considered as one, moreso that it is quite strapped on her.

she smiled dearly once again before curtsying to leave. as she was out on earshot, the queen turned to brimsley.

"i wish i had done that when i was young."

now that all is done, she cannot wait to taste what kind of drinks they serve during balls as she eagerly continues on her path to the beverages. she swiftly took a glass and sipped it with delight.

"you took the wrong glass. lemonade is here."

her eyes narrowed at that, hinting the arrival of a not-so-welcomed presence. the viscount bridgerton, with his wife and younger brother, joined her after spotting the young lady across the room.

"i can outdrink you."

"i'd like to see you try." kate slapped her husband's arm at the unnecessary challenge. kate is reasonably competitive. anthony? he's the most competitive at wrong times.

raine smirked at kate as the latter winked at her. she turns to the viscount, "i did not take you as someone who loves balls."

before he could answer, benedict interjected after taking a glass of his own, "he has two of them."

the eldest closed his eyes and sighed at the immature comment, "say that in front of her father if you think it's funny."

"oh, please don't. they'll both laugh for hours." she shuddered at the thought, just as the current dance ended.

anthony finished his glass as he looked at his wife for a while before turning to the two, "well, excuse us. i must take my wife to the dance floor."

he lead her to the dance floor without even waiting for their reply. raine scrunched her nose as benedict continues to sip on his own, leaning on the standing round table.

"anthony dances in these events?"

"only since last year, when he decided to actively participate in balls."

she immediately turned to him, mirroring the incredulous look her father had earlier, "why are you saying it like that?"

"why am i saying what like?" benedict turned to her as well, tilting his head and propping it on his palm.

"stop."

"balls?"

raine gave out a grumble, turning her attention back to her drink as the bridgerton laughed at her reaction. they both observed the ball with a comforting silence before benedict saw an interesting sight.

"your father is laughing. i must say, lord silva is really paradoxical."

her brow raised at the mention, "he always does. he just hates you, and don't say that word to him. he'll think it's a compliment."

"it is a compliment."

"it's not."

"wait, lord silva hates me?" upon realising the previous statement, he straightened his back.

the girl simply nodded as a grin made its way on her lips, "he thinks you put a love curse on me."

he dramatically placed a hand on his chest, "you are more likely to do that to me than i to you."

"you know me so well." she laughed as she raised her glass to him which he followed. upon the cue of the music ending once again, he gulped his drink, moving to her other side.

"i do hope you have not given away your very first dance to some other man."

she screamed, internally screamed, and she could almost not hold the grin that was aching to escape her lips, "hm? what ever do you mean to say?"

benedict chuckled, completely seeing through her. he moved to block her view of the dance floor, his left hand manly placed on the lumbar of his back as he offered the other in between them.

"loraine silva, may i be your first dance?"

she beamed at him, drinking the rest of her glass at once as she placed her own hand at the care of his.

"i thought you'd never ask."

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

raine, as talkative as she is, could not find the confidence to do so at the moment. all she could think of was his hands, smell, and body. yes, she grew up with them, but she had never danced with this man in front of her before.

anthony, yes, when he did a poor attempt to cheer her up—which ended up successful because he looked ridiculous. colin, yes, when he offered to be her dance partner as she was practicing after classes. but benedict? she has never even saw the man dance.

so, currently in their second dance, she finally found her voice, "can i just say, i feel so happy i could die."

he laughed as he twirled her, "you have said that a thousand times before."

"genuinely this time." raine intimately uttered as she looked at him in the eye.

"also," she added, continuing with a charming smirk after another twirl, "ever thought of marrying me?"

he narrowed his eyes with a smirk of his own at her, "oh, you opportunistic minx."

"that one i'll gladly take as a compliment." raine proudly grinned, pushing further, "so?"

"let me think," he acted as if he was thinking deeply on the answer before turning back to her, "no."

raine gave a mocked sigh, chuckling right after, "a girl can only try."

the pair continued to dance, sneaking chats and gossips with laughter as they do so. with the music ending, he leads her off of the dance floor.

"well, what must i do now?" she said, now back with the beverages.

"dance, drink, have fun! just as there's no shortage of ladies, men too."

raine groaned at the mention of other bachelors, "ugh, i don't want to dance with other men."

benedict smiled at her adamant refusal of them, "darling, a ball is thrown to socialise."

"i'll socialise with you then."

"we have, for fourteen years already."

she smiled mischievously again, "are you counting?"

he pinched her right cheek as he proceeded to make faces, as if talking to a child, "it's simple mathematics." he laughed as she swatted his hand, standing straight up again.

"for one, you could save your father from lady townbridge. i doubt you'd like her for a mother."

raine groaned once again as the bridgerton boy bid his farewell, "ugh, i don't even like her as a person."

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

the young silva wandered around the ball, trying to find another source of fun. for some time, she stood near lady blackstow and lady vaughan, eavesdropping for a juicy gossip, but all she learned was their husbands' unhygienic activities. she tried to engage with others, hopping from person to person, but could not find them entertaining.

so, when she heard quite the laughter and cheers from the opposite side of a door, she did not even think twice to open it.

"well, what do we have here?" raine, with the largest grin ever, whispered to herself in joy.

the room was a heaven for her. it was full of things she finally deem as fun. there were people playing billiards on her left, cards on the other, drinking at the front, and—that's a familiar face.

"raphael! i didn't know you came back from duty." she greeted as she walked towards the man playing cards, tipping her head to the others surrounding the table as greetings.

the said man turned to the her with a surprised look, "lor—what are you doing here?"

"i'm a debutante?"

"no—" he paused at the misunderstanding, "like here."

"oh, i'm..." she began with a smile before turning to look around the place with more attention, "oh."

there were no women present. not a single strand of lengthy hair. nevertheless, she believe it was not a problem at all, turning back to the table with an excited smile.

"and she pulled up a seat." raphael muttered as the girl inserts a chair in between.

"how come no one told me there's a place like this in a ball?!"

the man placed his palms on his face, whisper-yelling right after, "general's going to kill me!"

"enjoy your remaining time then." raine laughed at his exaggeration as the other men began a new round, "now, watch me beat you all."

and she did! they've been at it now for four rounds. the men, varying in ages, wondered if they should be amazed or insulted by her.

"suck it up, boys." she whispered mockingly to raphael with a teasing smile.

however, her smile and his annoyance were quickly changed with a panic look as he noticed the clock hitting ten. he immediately rushed for raine to took cover on the opposite end of the table, a blind spot from the door.

"general." he greeted with a salute as the said man did arrive on the dot.

"raphael, it's a ball." he reminded, easing the younger one from the salute, "have you seen loraine?"

"loraine?" he awkwardly laughs, which is not helping the situation at all, "no, sir."

"notify leo and—" her father's voice was fading away as he and raphael walked outdoor.

as she stayed still and kept her gaze in front of her, she noticed a familiar head across the room, staring at her with a dumbfounded look. anthony mouthed at her, "what in the hell are you doing?"

on the other hand, as raphael has led the higher-ranking officer in a private corner, he spoke in a hushed voice, "loraine is inside, sir."

the general closed his eyes to compose himself, the activities of his daughter can be quite infuriating at times, "i suppose that's better, isn't it?" he asked as he puff on his cigar before continuing, "keep an eye on her. ford and smith will keep me updated."

raphael nodded, taking in the order as armand exhaled the smoke before walking away,

"and stop playing cards. she'll beat you all."

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

"is father away?" raine asked, raphael affirming. she moved her seat to make room for the latter.

"come, the viscount is betting."

the table has gotten bigger in his return, with the bridgerton son joining them. he offered a hand to shake which the viscount took firmly. he greeted, "raphael montague, pleased to be of acquaintance."

anthony's brows raised at that inquiringly, "you don't happen to be the raphael, do you?"

"how do you mean?"

"oh, lan—" he held his tongue, just realising what he was about to say. he regained his composure with a light cough, "you were mentioned a couple of times in passing."

raine rolled her eyes, "you can say his name, you know. it's not a curse."

raphael replied to the other man with a chuckle, "i hope only the good things."

anthony laughed, remembering a story, "the grenade?"

"oh, please no." he held his head down with a short laugh.

the young silva clapped as another round was about to start, "less talking, more playing, gentlemen."

the round started fiercely, but luck seemed to be on raine's side for the night as she has been getting a good hand. as the rest revealed their set of cards, a cheering and smug raine and an annoyed raphael and anthony are what's left of the round. a tap on the viscount's shoulder distracted him.

"anthony, here you are. mother is—what are you doing here?"

"why is everyone asking that?" raine crossed her brows in annoyance, "you said i should have fun."

benedict turned to her completely from his brother, "this is not what i meant."

"i am having fun."

he laughed mockingly, "do you even play well?"

at the question, groans can be heard as the men were reminded of themselves losing. raine, however, was as pleased as she can be.

"anyone you see here has lost to me."

he rolled his eyes as he shrugged it off, "that's because they've had a drink."

"try it yourself, bridgerton." a man chuckled and voiced it out as a challenge.

the younger bridgerton turned to him smoothly, "you're not going to manipulate me into—"

"scared?"

raine taunted, she knew benedict so well.

"never."

he stated as the older bridgerton stood up and patted his brother's shoulders before leaving for their mother's call.

"what should we wager?" she asked, leaning back on the seat.

"if i win, you won't go into gentlemen's clubs anymore."

her lips formed a thin line at that, yet she slowly nodded, "agreeable."

"inside or outside of the balls."

raine jerked from her seat at once, "that's too much."

now, it's benedicts turn to lean back with a smirk, "i'm going to tell your father."

she likes him dearly, really. but, an irritated look manifested on her features, "alright, you're going to play like this, benedict?"

always with a flair for theatrics, she acted as if rolling her invisible sleeves before placing her wager on the table.

"if i win, you're going to marry me."

his eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing again, seemingly finding the words to say, "that is what's too much."

"these gentlemen are witnesses, ben." she gestured with ease to the men now surrounding their table.

"you are insane."

"only for the things i love, darling."

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

"lady silva lost."

a man declared as the rest are still in silence. the game was close, so utterly close that they were about to get their wives or inform their mothers of a wedding happening soon. however, as they were nearing the end, the silva girl made a huge error, costing her the chance to marry the object of her affections and the object of her fun.

"okay, but including within balls like this is too much, ben. this is the only entertaining thing in these events!" the gradual change of her tone from acceptance to whining in just two sentences was astounding.

"these gentlemen are witnesses, raine."

she blew out an exasperated breath at the smugness of the man sitting opposite her. she was about to retort when a voice from a man near the door announced.

"lord silva is coming!"

she hurriedly stood up, aiming for the door that would lead directly outside the mansion, to the gardens. raine turned back to them with a grin, saluting to them all with a hint.

"boys, i'll put in a good word to the ladies."

she departed the room just before her father's imposing figure arrived from the other door with a curious brow raised.

"why are you all so tense?"

outside, raine put a hand on a pillar to support herself as she catch her breath. her father's giving her so much exercise these days that she cannot wait for him to return to duty.

"we always seem to be escaping from your father." the young lady jumped in surprise with a hand on her chest at the voice, calming as she saw who it was.

"ben? what are you doing here?"

"well, what was i supposed to do? let you run off on your own? this late at night?" he lightly rubbed her back and asked in a mocking tone, as if pointing out the obvious.

"you know what, you are paradoxical." she stood straight again, lifting her hand from the pillar as she's getting her breath back, "you do things like this but you will not marry me."

benedict raised both his arms as if in surrender, "i am simply caring for you, like anthony and colin do. they would have done the same had they been in my position now. that does not equate to marriage."

"we're unchaperoned." she easily pointed out again, looking at him directly now.

"well—" the bridgerton began, racking his brain on what to say in his defense. he turned to raine yieldingly.

"it really is not a compliment."

taglist: @aadu2173 @imgondeletedis

[memo-blogs]

Wish

An Astarion x Tav (any gender) fic (wholesome/SFW) ((Also, contains spoilers for the game)) (((15th July, 2024 - updated cover art)))

As the warm glow of the fading sun caressed the sky, he awoke. Alone, again. Astarion trekked up to the first floor window and peeked outside at the fading sun, longing more than for its warming rays. He looked at the note he had been carrying in his pocket again. The messy familiar scrawlings of his darling.

"There's something I have to do. Please wait for me. -Tav"

It had been days. Where were they? Why wouldn't they take him with them? His mood darkening with the sky, Astarion turned away from the window of his humble abode with Tav.

Or well, maybe "humble" wasn't the right word. Fabulous, well and tastefully adorned, just as Astarion liked it. Tav had smiled that adoring smile of theirs as they let Astarion decorate their home. "You always did have excellent taste, love", Tav had said as they helped Astarion put everything just so. They had been all around the world, looking for just the right drapes, cutlery, carpets, paintings and so on. Their home had two floors and a surprisingly large basement. The days spent finding and putting together the place were mundane and domestic, but full of so much warmth and gentleness that Astarion let a sigh escape his lips as he descended back to the basement floor, painfully aware.

Aware that while the house was exactly how he'd like his home to be, and that while he was excited to actually have a place to call home, it was just a place without Tav. Astarion walked the corridors adorning their nest with knick-knacks and memoirs from their travels together, chuckling at the vibrating dog-collar found in the Underdark, realising that the most at home he'd ever felt was with Tav. He opened their bedroom door and winced at the empty bed. Somehow, even though he had room to roam, and the right to leave the house every night, the empty loneliness of their shared bedroom reminded him of the year he spent in a coffin in isolation as punishment from Cazador. He shuddered. His back ached with the memory of abuse. But he also remembered how softly Tav had wrapped their arms around him, promising never again would he be trapped. And so far, Tav had more than kept their word.

He sat down on their bed. His and Tav's. Astarion absent-mindedly caressed the bedsheets, lost in thoughts.

Where was Tav? What could take this long? Why not take him with them? After all they'd been through together, didn't they trust him? Or… Maybe Tav needed to do something in daylight. Astarion felt the pang of loss. While being tadpoled by an elder brain had been a horror, he had enjoyed the unexpected side-effect of being able to walk in the sun, and missed it dearly. Maybe it was his elf blood that made him ache for the sun. Ah, but to be a vampire, and to walk in the sun! That had been power. That had been the first taste of delicious freedom for him.

Astarion let his thoughts wander back to Cazador's ritual of ascension. Would have sacrificing all those souls really been worth not having to thirst and to be free to walk in the sun? Gods. There were moments where he genuinely thought he'd give anything for that. Fearful, painful moments. And he was so close to giving in to his panic to never be caged ever again.

But then, he recalled Tav's hand in his. Their smiling face. Their selfless bravery in battle, shielding him, always having his back. The way Tav looked at him, how, even if Astarion was just joking that he only wanted vain empty compliments, Tav's responses were always sincere and full of affection. The gentle way they made love. Something about the way Tav loved Astarion was so true, he couldn't deny it. It was in everything Tav did. It was in the way Tav opened up about being a Bhaalspawn, and fearing they'd hurt him. How they weren't afraid of losing power or control or murdering innocents in general - Tav was more scared and willing to give up the one thing they truly loved, if it meant keeping him safe. Him. Astarion. A measly vampire spawn who, in the grand scheme of things, should have meant nothing to someone like Tav. Yet they had died at Bhaal's altar, giving up all that power to be a decent, regular person, and to have a chance to love Astarion. For Tav, it had been more important to die wanting to be good and to love than to give up their soul to live powerful but practically in slavery. Thank the gods Withers had been there to raise Tav as a mortal, no longer tied to Bhaal. To give them and Astarion a chance to live.

Astarion lied down on the bed. Tav loved him enough to set him free. Tav didn't want to own or control him. They never had. They had always let Astarion make his own decisions. Stood by Astarion when he confronted Cazador. Never telling him what to do, but supporting him through it all. If he had ascended, he would have been lost forever. He would have gained power, but he would have lost himself, and become a beast beyond reckoning… Probably very much like Tav almost did, like their sister Orin had. Astarion had read up on vampire lords after, and realised part of the reason Cazador had been so cruel wasn't only that his master Vellion had been equally brutal to Cazador… But also because the one edge spawns had over full fledged vampires, was that they were still capable of love. Of feelings. Cazador had hated him with a passion, partly because he couldn't feel anything else.

And what if it hadn't been him to have been swept up in the mindflayer ship? What if it had been one of his vampire siblings? If the roles had been reversed, and he was still stuck with Cazador while his sibling dealt with the Netherbrain with Tav, he would have hoped to have been given a chance to live as well. He chuckled. Gods. All those spawn down in the Underdark, wreaking havoc. Ah, to be a spider on the ceiling!

Astarion stared at the ceiling of their bed. Mindflayers and vampire lords weren't that different beasts, after all. Soulless opportunists looking to drain whatever they found useful until it no longer wasn't. Astarion turned his head to look at the empty pillow beside him. The longing and uselessness he felt almost made him want to be some emotionless monster. He got up, frustrated.

He felt alone and oddly fragile. More so with each passing day Tav was absent. He trusted Tav. They said they'll be back. So they would be. But Astarion was worried. He walked to Tav's bedroom table and picked up the Sending Stone. He had picked it up and put it down many times as the days passed. He rolled it in his hands again, pondering who to message.

He finally gave the Stone a squeeze, activating it, and uttered: "Shadowheart love, sorry to bother you on a wonderful night such as this, but do you happen to know where Tav is?" The Stone flashed, letting him know the message was sent. He waited for a response.

None came. Odd. They weren't exactly the bestest of friends with Shadowheart, but she had always given some sort of reply when he had messaged her. Was she missing with Tav? Did they take Shadowheart with them wherever they went, but not him? What was going on? He thought of their old companions. Wyll and Karlach were still in the Hells, as far as he knew. Halsin was rebuilding the Shadowlands now that the shadows were no more. Jaheira was rebuilding Baldur's Gate. Lae'Zel was long gone fighting for the freedom of her people. He didn't dare to even think what Minsc was up to, or how he'd respond to any message, really. This didn't leave him many options on who to try next. He squeezed the Stone again, activating it.

"Gale - would you be a dear and let me know if you have any idea where Tav is?"

The response came in surprisingly quick this time. "Astarion! A little busy right now - ack!" The response cut out.

Astarion sat back down on the bed, Sending Stone in hand. So Shadowheart was unresponsive and Gale, professor of magic in Waterdeep, was clearly in some kind of battle - what were the odds these two events were unrelated? What was Tav up to that they had called on Shadowheart and Gale, but left him at home to worry? He stood up and paced. What was going on?

He heard a weary sigh in his ear. "Astarion." It was Gale. He was sending a message back. Astarion stopped to listen. "Terribly sorry not to respond. In a bit of a spot of bother. We're helping Tav… Retrieve an item, and it is proving rather tricky. Not to worry! Shadowheart has patched up the worst of Tav's injuries and we're nearly done here. We'll bring Tav home tomorrow night once we've all rested from today's activities."

"Tav is hurt?" Astarion found himself nearly shouting. He contained himself and poised his next words to be more his usual lax self. "Do make sure to tell them to not drag any blood on my Calimshite carpets when you return. They were very expensive. I suppose I'll have dinner waiting after sunset. You still drink wine, don't you Gale?"

Gale chuckled. "Tav says they wouldn't dream of dirtying your precious carpets. And a fine wine with some cheese sounds wonderful. See you tomorrow."

Astarion put the Stone back on Tav's table. Honestly he couldn't care less about the stupid carpets or even this entire house - he just wanted Tav back safe and sound. Tav getting injured worried him, as he knew how annoyingly self-sacrificing they could be. Didn't they agree to look after themselves first after the whole mess with the Netherbrain? What was Tav thinking?

Astarion walked upstairs and put on a coat. He needed the air to calm his nerves, and a meal to quench his thirst. Plus, now he'd have to prepare dinner for at least three since Tav was coming home with an entourage. He thought back to where Tav placed the recipe for that strange sauce Gale kept harping on about, and with a put upon sigh determined to make his best effort to make the stupid thing. Tav would be happy if he tried to be kind to their friends. And if they brought Tav back to him alive, maybe slaving over a meal wasn't such a big thing.

The next sunset, Astarion felt a little pathetic, sitting by their door waiting. But he couldn't help it. He was anxious to see what Tav had gone out to retrieve that was apparently worth dying over. And mostly, just to see his beloved idiot again. It had been horribly lonely and empty without Tav. And honestly, just mind-numbingly boring. He had started preparing dinner early as he couldn't really sleep the day, waiting. It was simmering on their stove. He had gone a bit overboard with setting the table as well, picking out Tav's favourite flowers and bringing out their best cutlery for their friends.

Astarion gingerly stole a glance at the last rays of the sun diving underneath the horizon, and as soon as they disappeared, a teleportation circle promptly manifested in their yard. As expected, Gale walked out, looking behind him as if encouraging whomever was behind him to follow. Out came Shadowheart and surprisingly, Jaheira, supporting a limping Tav between them. As soon as they were through, Gale shut the portal behind them.

Astarion couldn't contain himself. He flung the door open and ran to hold Tav. He held them hard, as if afraid Tav would vanish if he let go. For a small moment, he was lost in Tav's familiar scent. The one he had come to associate with being loved and being home, and he managed to hold back his tears on how good it felt to have Tav near him again. Tav gently kissed Astarion on his head, laying their head on his. "Hello, darling. Miss me?"

Astarion suddenly felt acutely aware they weren't alone and broke off their embrace. He tried to ignore Jaheira's knowing smirk and Shadowheart's little smile as he turned to face the latter. "I thought Gale said you'd patch my precious knucklehead before sending them home. Why are they still injured?"

Tav looked embarrassed. "Well, uh-" They were cut off by Jaheira. "Because we only have so many healing spells to spare a day, spawn, and we did as much as we could after a night's rest for the reckless cub, Shadowheart and I." Jaheira smacked Tav on the shoulder, as if to reprimand them for needing healing in the first place. Astarion's eyes widened in shock. "How hurt were you?"

"Exhaustingly so." Shadowheart sighed. "For a moment there, I wasn't sure Tav was still among the living, or that we could even bring them back, but we did, thank Selûne."

"Aye, burnt to a crisp by that one trap we missed. Shame the temple was filled with so much undead-repelling magics that we couldn't risk bringing our favourite vampire spawn in there to check for all of them, but we managed."

Everyone stopped when they noticed how quiet Astarion got. There was an awkward silence that hung among the group, as everyone realised even without tadpoles to connect them that Astarion was not okay with the news given. Tav looked at him apologetically. "I'm sorry I didn't ask you to come along. I know you would have come even if I didn't ask if I said I was going. But, there is a reason for this." Tav signaled for Shadowheart and Jaheira to release them, and stood up on their own feet.

Astarion sighed. "Just don't do it again. Now, I've made enough dinner for all of you, and there are guest bedrooms upstairs if you want to stay the night. You can tell me all about it over dinner." Astarion walked up to Tav, offering them a hand to lean on as he led them home. Their friends smiled and walked behind them, grateful for the offer of a hearth, a meal and a warm home.

Tav whispered in his ear. "Just like that? You forgive me for taking off without you?" Astarion gave their arm a gentle squeeze. "Yes love. I said I trust you, and despite all the evidence to the contrary, I still do." They walked together into their home with their friends. "But please don't leave me alone like this again. I don't like being alone with my thoughts for so long." Tav kissed his pale cheek. "I promise. This was the last escapade I'll ever do without your blessing."

As they sat down for dinner Jaheira laughed. "Astarion, seems I have misjudged you yet again. Not only was I right in mistaking you for a good man, now I am beginning to believe I might mistake you for a great husband. This is a beautiful setup!"

"Oh hush, you old crone. It's just dinner among friends", Astarion quipped back, smiling despite himself.

Gale sniffed the air as he sat down. "Is that Hundur sauce I smell?" He took a small dab of sauce on his spoon and tasted it. "By Mystra, you even got the flavours just right! Astarion! I didn't know you had the makings of a cook."

"There are many things you don't know about me, darling."

Shadowheart piped in while breaking bread for herself. "Indeed - I for one, am having a hard time telling which one of you loves the other more, you or Tav. Especially after this stunt we helped them pull. It'd be disgusting if you two weren't so adorable together… What isn't a mystery though, is who decorated your house. Really, Astarion?"

"You're just jealous you don't have my sense of style, love."

They all smirked, Tav smiling the biggest of them all. "Thank you, everyone. For being here. For you three for helping me with this… We can talk about what we did, but I'd like to tell Astarion in private what we got out of it, if that's okay. And… Just, you are all my family and I love you all very much. I am honoured to be among such amazing friends, and could not ask for better ones. If you ever need anything, anything at all, call and you know I will be there."

A choked silence hung among them, as no one really knew what to add to such heartfelt words of affection. Astarion smiled. Tav was one-of-a-kind. And all his. Jaheira turned her head to wipe a tear. Shadowheart smiled. Gale cleared his throat. "Well, let's not waste our gracious chef's efforts by letting this feast go cold. Shall we?"

They ate together as mostly Gale and Shadowheart regaled them with the story of how they had found a long-abandoned temple of Lathander, and plunged into it's surprisingly sunny depths, with occasional snarky remarks from the wizened Jaheira of all the blunders they made along the way. Tav focused on the meal, following along the story, nodding in places in agreement on the retelling of their past few days, and laughing at everyone's quips and remarks on their mishaps while at it. Astarion wondered what was worth this much trouble. The Blood of Lathander was still with Shadowheart. What more could the sun god offer that was worth the risk? He also noted that Tav seemed oddly nervous, and avoided his gaze throughout the dinner, shyly blushing into their dinner whenever their eyes did meet. Astarion found himself anxious as well, every now and then letting his foot tap under the table before he caught himself, and composed himself once more.

Eventually dinner came to a close, and they saw their guests to bed. Shadowheart promised to finish healing up Tav as soon as she woke up and before Gale teleported them all back home. They wished their friends a good night.

Astarion gently helped Tav down into their basement bedroom, and then to take off their armour and clothes. Dawn was already approaching, which was their bedtime, as Tav had adopted Astarion's nocturnal schedule with ease. He noted the bruising, the burns, the barely closed wounds from the battles Tav had recently fought without him while undressing them. He got lost in softly caressing Tav's battered body, until Tav's hand found his, and gently held it. Astarion looked into Tav's eyes. "Alright. We're alone now - could you please tell me what was worth nearly killing yourself over, again? The suspense is killing me, darling."

Tav looked at their knees, searching for their words. "You know how you showed me your grave stone", they started.

"Of course love, how could I forget? We made such excellent love on top of it that night. I cannot think of a better way to celebrate my rebirth at the time", Astarion shot back with a devilish grin. "I fail to see how my faded grave stone has anything to do with your little adventure", he added.

"Well that's just it - your grave was so faded, we couldn't make out the day you died. Or the day you were born. And you still can't remember, right?"

"Well no, I can't and honestly, I don't really care to. That person is long gone and can stay that way for all I care. Why does it matter?"

Tav played with their hands in their lap. "Today's a year from the day we first met. I was afraid I wouldn't make it back on time, but I did." Tav used the bed post to stand up, and limped to their satchel. They took out an unassuming scroll case. "I figured, today could be both yours and my birthday. Since I can't remember my birthday either. It could be our anniversary. A day of celebration. Our day. And I went out and got the one thing I really, truly want to give you above all... I've been plotting ways to find one for some time now." Tav limped in front of Astarion and painfully but meticulously got on one knee. Astarion could feel his cheeks getting hot - a feeling he wasn't sure he was even capable of anymore, being undead and all.

Tav presented the scroll case to him. "The temple of the sun god had been rumoured to contain a Wish spell. I risked everything to find out if the rumour was true, and it was. With this scroll, anyone can wish for anything; once." Tav placed the scroll into Astarion's hands.

"I know how much you loved walking in the sun, Astarion. Your life was taken from you. Your freedom. Even the sun was stolen from you. I give you this scroll, so that you can wish for anything. You can wish to ascend without sacrificing all those spawn, you can wish to be rid of your vampiric curse, you could wish to rule the world - anything you want." Tav gently squeezed Astarion's hands, holding the scroll case, and looked up at him with their piercing eyes. "I love you, Astarion. And I always will. I give you ultimate freedom to choose anything you want, anything at all."

For a moment, it felt as if time stood still as Astarion fully absorbed what Tav just said. What they were offering him. Suddenly, he couldn't help but cry. He threw the scroll case into a corner of the room and knelt down to hold his precious Tav as close as he could. How had he gotten so lucky? After centuries of misery, how was he here, now, with this amazing creature? He kissed them deeply, passionately, as if trying to convey all his overwhelming affection and gratitude in one, two, no; dozens of kisses and caresses. He didn't care he was still crying. He didn't care if he seemed insane. He just wanted to feel Tav, and never let go. To tell them without words Tav meant more to him than anything they could ever bring home.

After awhile, he stopped and they leaned their foreheads together, holding hands. Astarion noticed Tav was crying too, but Tav gave him a little smile nonetheless. There was an unanswered question in Tav's eyes -

What did Astarion want to Wish for?

Astarion kissed Tav on the forehead once more. "You are a reckless idiot." He got up and picked up the scroll case, and took out the scroll. Such a mundane looking piece of paper, to give out a moment of godlike powers to mere mortals. He played with it as if it was nothing. Tav smirked. "I know. So love, what are you going to use it for?"

Astarion grinned back at Tav. "Oh, I don't know. World domination does sound like an awful lot of work, doesn't it? And I have never heard of a happy vampire lord, now that I think of it. Powerful, to be sure - but not happy."

"I could wish for a sea of puppy dogs and kittens for you", Astarion joked. Tav laughed. "I got the scroll for you, smooth brain. I already have everything I need - what I want, is you to be free, in whatever way you want to be free." Tav dropped their joking demeanor and picked up their surprisingly disarming sincerity. "With or without me, I want you to be happy. You helped me find freedom and regain myself and my life back. Without you, I'd still be a slave to Bhaal's endless fervour to murder, or a mindflayer. You believed in me when no one else did, and supported me through bouts of madness. I owe my life to you… So I want you to choose yours. And whatever you choose, know I'll always love you for carrying me through my darkest days."

Astarion looked at Tav. He didn't need to connect through the no-longer-present tadpole to know they meant every word. He looked down at the scroll of Wish in his hands. He could be anyone. He could do anything. He could be the most powerful, influential and beloved man in all of Faerûn - all he had to do was say the words.

The scroll knew he meant to make his Wish. It glowed in anticipation. He smiled at Tav. "I wish to be cured of vampirism and to be an elf that's capable of walking in the sun with his beloved."

[mlmxreader]

Big Boy | König x m!reader

Anonymous asked: Ooohhh König with a short boyfriend? Someone jokingly asks about the height difference and his bf says “I have to climb him like a damn tree every time I want a kiss, it’s annoying.” And König’s like “you can ask me to bend down, you know.” “Nah, you’re my personal jungle gym.”

summary: König loves his pilot boyfriend, even if he is a bit of a pain.

tws: swearing, smoking

König was a lot taller than you, and although you did love him ever so dearly, you had to admit: it could be a pain in the backside and a half to be physically affectionate sometimes. But you made it work, and although some of your fellow pilots in the RAF did tease you for it, it was all in good nature and was not anything other than banter.

Often, when you were off of work for a while König would come home with only one thing in mind: cuddling you; he loved how you seemed to fit so well in his embrace, your head on his chest as he laid a large hand between your shoulders and an arm around your waist while some old song by Sodom or Slayer played quietly, too tired and worn out to talk, too overwhelmed with seeing you at last to even consider opening his mouth, he always kissed you too much for that.

But his favourite thing by far was when he would come to the air field; he loved to watch you land your plane - the Red Kite - while Perveen, Bashar, Pahwa and Cohen landed behind - their planes being the Golden Eagle, Peregrine Falcon, Red Tailed Hawk and Bearded Vulture respectively. What made König love it so much though was not the planes themselves or how they were painted to look like the birds they were named after, but it was how you reacted to seeing him stood on the tarmac.

Without fail, he would bring a thermos of your favourite coffee and would have two cigarettes ready to be smoked; when you first became his boyfriend, you said once that you loved a coffee and a smoke when you landed, and König never forgot.

He was dressed down as he stood on the tarmac, a camo print hoodie in dark green and trousers of the same, but sporting a bright orange beanie hat. If he remembered correctly, you had gotten that hat for him for his birthday as a present a few months after you first started dating, the thought of which made him smile as he felt the rain gently tap, a warning that it was about to start pouring.

Although it was going to be awful, the weather was actually on König's side, as it had meant an early return for the pilots who had been out on a training exercise, it meant his boyfriend would return early.

He watched the Red Kite eagerly, and when it came to a full stop and you climbed out, he grinned.

"Ah, fuck! Shit! Shit! Fucking shit! Why'd it have to fucking rain right as I fucking-" your little rant of complaints came to a halt when you saw König.

A grin spread across your features, and you quickly made your way towards him, running until you crashed right into his body, pressing your face against him as you tightly held onto him. "Hi, Maus."

König eagerly returned the embrace as he smiled. "Hallo, mein geliebter... bist du gut?"

You nodded. "Now I got you, yeah... ich bin sehr gut... und du?"

"Ich bin super," he admitted, unable to stop grinning as he held you tightly. "Wie war dein Flug?"

You shrugged. "Okay... fuck, I missed you."

He gently pulled back, and when you jumped into his arms to kiss him, he couldn't help but to laugh softly; kissing you back eagerly before he gently set you down again, resting his forearm on your head.

"Hey, (y/n)!" Parveen called, grinning from ear to ear. "How'd you kiss him?"

You shrugged, waiting for him to get closer before you dared to answer, "how'd you think? I have to climb him like a damn tree every time I want a kiss, it's annoying as fuck, mate."

König looked down at you for a moment, his brows furrowing. "You can ask me to bend down, you know, Bärchen."

Gently, you tapped his stomach as you shook your head. "Nah, you're my personal jungle gym... besides, it's like a positive reinforcement thing."

He cocked his brow, trying not to smile as he let his hand slip to your shoulders, resting between them as he slowly moved his thumb up and down, letting you lean into him. "You could still ask me to Kuss you."

"I'd rather not," you shook your head, licking your lips as you smiled. "It's more fun this way."

"Why don't you just punch him in the stomach?" Perveen jokingly asked. "That'll make him bend down."

König glared at the Squadron Leader. "Don't encourage him, bitte."

You were about to open your mouth, let off some smart ass comment, when König shoved his hand into his pocket, and gave you a cigarette and a lighter; he bent down, picked up the thermos, and held it out for you, doing his best not to smile when you eagerly lit up your cigarette and held it between your lips as you opened the thermos and let the stench of coffee hit you.

Sure, you could be a pain, you could be a nightmare, but König adored you, and he honestly couldn't wait until he had you back home; he couldn't wait to feel you in his embrace and to hold you so tightly, bouncing on his heels slightly as he waited for you to smoke your cigarette and drink your coffee. He knew you loved and needed it.

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

[nutcasewithaknife]

I've been obsessed with Jiang Cheng since halfway through my first watch of cql, and here's why. He always keeps doing better than I expect him to.

(wow, this got long. rest is under the cut!)

He's introduced as the brother-killer, the ruthless sect leader with a reputation for being merciless. Then cut to the flashback, a Jiang Cheng who is fifteen, surrounded by his sister and brother and happy about it, occasionally doing stupid teenager things, trying so very hard to be Ideal Heir, while Wei Wuxian is the prodigy that keeps stealing his thunder effortlessly. And you go, "oh, I know this story. It's a tragedy, because these brothers loved each other once, but one's ambition will eventually breed jealousy which will fester into hate and end, tragically, in the death of the better half." It's Cain and Abel! You've seen how it ends, it's the first scene you see, of course that's where it's going!

And then you see how the three siblings help each other survive a frankly horrible and abusive household. They try to do for each other what their parents couldn't; Yanli tries to be their mother, Jiang Cheng doesn't believe the rumours about Wei Wuxian being jfm's illegitimate son or hold it against him as he very easily could've learnt to from his mother, and Wei Wuxian does his darned best to get jfm to acknowledge and love his son as he does for Wei Wuxian.

You keep waiting for the other shoe to drop!! Yunmeng burns, Jiang Cheng chokes his brother in the rain, and you think this is it, this is where it finally breaks. But he sticks with his brother and sister, he makes some stupid decisions in his grief and pays dearly for it. When he wakes up without a core he is broken, his 'ambition' is destroyed, and you remember him choke his brother and think this is it, and then... it isn't. Other than the one grieving rant in the rain, he never blames his brother for their loss, never demands that he fix it all. When Wei Wuxian does come with a solution, Jiang Cheng doesn't act like it's something he was owed. It's his brother, his brilliant genius brother, who miraculously fixed this impossible thing! He's the most Jiang of them all, of course he achieved the impossible!

And then he's the young sect leader in a bloody war, needing to win, needing to prove his worth and his sect's worth at every turn. This is where he becomes the ruthless, powerful man we meet in the first few episodes! Only.... he finds Wen Qing, who is the enemy in the eyes of the Jianghu, and offers to protect her (only her because he knows his limits, he can't protect all her people and his own, and his duty to his sect is first). He goes looking for his brother, months on end, haggard to the bone.

Then Wei Wuxian shows up wielding a power that's the worst taboo in their world, a power frighteningly similar to the power-drunk villain that they war is being waged against! He's doing unspeakable things, terrible torture in the name of revenge! Ah, so this is what it finally is! The moment they finally fall out for good, where Jiang Cheng cannot abide to tarnish his sect's reputation with Wei Wuxian's, and their love turns to hate.

But.... Jiang Cheng sees what he's done, and the first thing he does is to hug him tight. He asks about Wei Wuxian not carrying his sword, but even after the diplomatic nightmare of a war council, Jiang Cheng is just worrying. It's the most open, the most honest we've seen him so far, and he is concerned for his brother. He shuts it down when Jin Zixun tries to pick a fight. He takes responsibility for the person everyone's wary of, because that's his brother and he trusts him! He's hiding things, yes, but one day he will be ready to talk and Jiang Cheng will wait till then.

Then the war's won (by Wei Wuxian, of course!) and he has a sect to rebuild. And his brother is not at his side. First he's slacking off and drinking around town, then he runs away with the Wens to the Burial Mounds. It's terrible for the sect's and Jiang Cheng's own precarious position in Jianghu. Surely, this is the last thread of Jiang Cheng's love for his brother, the beginning of the man we were introduced to? But it's fucking not! Yes, he's frustrated. Yes, he's mad. And yet, he doesn't force his sister into a diplomatically advantageous marriage (which I strongly believe is the bare minimum of being a decent human being, but is something that wouldn't have been a questionable or dishonourable thing for him to do in the culture and world this story is set in) because she is not a pawn and he respects her choice above the politics! He tries to defend his First Disciple, his brother, and is overshadowed by much more powerful leaders who are bigoted and/or afraid of his power. And when it all goes to shit, they fight! This is the end of it, surely? But no! It's all fake! They fight, make up a lie about how the Yunmeng Jiang has supressed Wei Wuxian and his Wens in the Burial Mounds so they can live without being under attack for however long, and then have shady meetups to discuss their nephew's name!!

In the carnage of Nightless City, their sister dies at his hands, and the horrible realisation dawns that this is what pushes them over the brink, literally. And then!! AND THEN!!!!! EVEN THEN IT WASN'T ENOUGH FOR HIM TO KILL HIS BROTHER!!! The first scene was a lie, WEI WUXIAN HAD TO THROW HIMSELF OFF!!!!!! And when he's finally back, what does Jiang Cheng do? Kill him? ban him from ever returning to their home? No! He wants to drag him back home and make him apologise, explain himself!!

A lot of this is very focused on the brothers, but even outside of that, Jiang Cheng keeps subverting the expectations that the story builds for him right in the beginning. For all the talks of 'disciplining' his nephew (which could unquestionably entail some form of corporal punishment, as we see in other parts of the story) and the childhood Jiang Cheng himself had, the idea of his Jiujiu raising his hand against him is unthinkable to the point of incredulity for Jin Ling. When Jin Ling has his breakdown over Suihua on the Lotus Pier docks, I was full bracing myself for Jiang Cheng to yell at him for crying in public without any shame or dignity, but what does he do? Calls his nephew to his side and demands to know who made him cry, so he can fucking wreck them for daring to do that! He has a mere day to process the Golden Core reveal, and after all the yelling, he actually apologises to his brother!!

Then, in the mother of all sucker-punch moments, we find out that the one grief-riddled, frustrating moment of apparent stupidity whose domino effect this entire thing has been, was in fact Jiang Cheng willingly sacrificing himself, sect be damned, to save his brother and sister. And like!! How do you have such a character who simultaneously is and is not what he seems to be!!!

I (and a lot of the audience) immediately played into the simple brotherhood-destroyed-by-jealousy plot that it seems to be at first, but that's the intention! The entire story keeps showing how misleading, how vicious rumours can be and how horribly it can affect who someone is in the eyes of society. We see this happen in the story, of course, but the narrative also relies on the audience to make the same mistake, to take the tropes that seem obviously implied at the start, and then unravels the true complexity of the story as it moves forward. We got played by the narrative and it was so worth it!! Wei Wuxian is the prime example, of course, but cql (and mdzs from what I gather, though I haven't read the books) does it with such nuance and brilliance for Jiang Cheng, how do you not immediately lose your entire mind about it for the rest of forever!!!!!

[supercorpkid]

How You Get the Girl

Supergirl. Lena Luthor x Reader!, Kara Danvers.

Word Count: 2500.

Notes: I really love this fic, and part 2 (my favorite ever written) is coming soon :)

"Hey, remember my friend Barry?" Kara asks as you settle onto her couch, balancing containers of takeout food. The late hour has granted Kara a break from her Supergirl duties, allowing for a rare moment of tranquility.

"Barry Allen?" You confirm, and she nods. "The one from another Earth?"

"Yeah." She hands you your food and takes a seat beside you, facing you. "Sometimes we meet just to talk, instead of dealing with end-of-the-multiverse situations."

"Nice. I didn't know that." You start eating, but Kara hesitates, an uncommon occurrence as she's typically the one speaking with her mouth full. "Have you seen him recently?"

"Yeah, and he told me something amusing." Kara tilts her head, uncertain. "He ended up in the wrong universe, thinking he was coming here. He was very confused because everything was oddly similar. You know, there was me, you, Alex, Lena, J'onn…"

"Isn't that normal for different universes?" You furrow your brows. "I might not know much about it, but Lena explained once that when a diversion event occurs, a new Earth is created, so—"

"Yeah, yeah." Kara interrupts, contemplating her words as you watch curiously. "The weird part was that you and Lena were..." She pauses, choosing her words carefully. "Together."

"Okay?" You return your attention to your food, losing interest. "We do spend a lot of time together."

"No, I mean, romantically together. Dating." Kara's revelation makes you snap your head up, heart racing. "More than that, actually. You guys were married! And had a kid!"

"A kid?" You laugh nervously. "Now that's absurd."

"Really? The kid part is absurd?" Kara sets aside her untouched food. "So you and Lena being married didn't strike you as absurd enough?"

You swallow hard, avoiding Kara's gaze as your cheeks flush. Is any of what Kara's saying absurd? Not entirely. Have you thought about you and Lena together before? Definitely. Have you secretly hoped for the day Lena will stop pining over Kara so you can do something about your love for her? Absolutely. Will you ever confess this to Kara? Not a chance.

"I mean," You take a deep breath, raising your head and trying to compose yourself. "Perhaps that's why the new Earth was created, right? A wild new scenario? Me and Lena."

Kara blinks, then chuckles. "I guess you're right." She finally picks up her food and begins eating. "I'm not sure if that's how a new Earth is created, but it's certainly wild enough."

Yeah. Wild enough.

Lena steps off the elevator, and you lift your head to admire her before she notices. Her hair is in perfect dark waves down her shoulders. She looks so tiny in her white sneakers, but you love them so dearly because you know how much more comfortable she's been ever since she stopped wearing those awful heels for work. Her lips, just a splash of red in them, as she's recently been dabbing with wearing less makeup than usual. You don't think she's ever looked this pretty.

The headquarters is unusually quiet; J'onn is in another room, Kara is at work, Alex is out with her girlfriend, and Winn is occupied in one of the computers. For now, it's just you and Lena, which means pining is almost allowed. 

"Hey, Y/N." Lena approaches, carrying a gigantic book and sporting a playful grin. "I know you're gearing up to tease me about my book, so go ahead."

"Honestly, Lena. You think too little of me." She raises one eyebrow at you and you hold back your smile. You manage your best British accent. "Have you gone mad, Hermione? Are you a witch or not?"

"Ah. There it is—the Harry Potter quote I've been waiting for." Lena drops the book onto the table with a thud, and you glance at the cover. "Ironically, it's actually about magic." You offer her a smirk, earning an eye roll in return. "So, has Kara mentioned anything about her last encounter with The Flash?"

"Uh." Your mouth drops, why is Lena bringing this up? "She – She might've mentioned seeing him."

"Right. So apparently she told him about my theory on elseworlds and he doesn't agree with it." Lena opens her book, looking for a page. And you breathe out, relieved you won't need to have that fun conversation with someone else. "So, you know, obviously I have to prove him wrong."

"Obviously." 

You stare at her lips, curving into a smile. So red and perfect. So close and yet so far away. She might be beside you, but the gap between you feels insurmountable.

"Oh, and he also said something about us being married!" She says and you choke on your own saliva and starts coughing violently. Lena's hand goes to your back and she soothes you, in a protective manner. "I mean, I know it's a little far-fetched, but that's an odd reaction."

"I just –" You try to breathe again, ignoring Lena's hands on your back and the way it makes your body shiver under her touch. "I wasn't expecting that. Sorry."

Lena chooses to ignore your awkwardness, which is very much appreciated, and you fall silent thinking about things you will not have, body parts you will not hold, and the reciprocated love that you won't feel. Thoughts etched in the inside of your mind, so addicted to the illusion of a love that never was and never will be.

"How –" You look back at her and she raises her head, previously nose buried in the book, and you swallow your nervousness. "How does a diversion event occur in order to create a new Earth? Is it something big and worldwide, or is it something small and insignificant?"

"Well, it is commonly thought to be big events. The small insignificant things that follow are usually in response to them."

"I see." You breathe deep one more time, mastering your best courage. "So, what would happen if I were to meet the other me or you from another universe? Would it be a paradox or something?"

"No. We're all different people." You bite the inside of your mouth thinking about it. Lena's voice brings you back from your trance. "Why the sudden interest?"

"Hm? Oh, I'm just trying to understand more." You smile getting up from your place. "Thanks for explaining it to me." She looks at you curiously and you over explain things with your arms, like a lunatic. "Things are slow today. I'm just gonna head home. If there's an emergency, just hit me up."

"Oh, sure." Lena has barely noticed you're gone, nose buried in the book once again. "Yeah, we'll let you know."

Is it madness? You pace the apartment floor, wrestling with your thoughts. Is it crazy to entertain the idea of venturing into another Earth just to witness a scenario where you and Lena are together? Is it reckless and irresponsible? Is it even fair?

But this love you feel for her has been eating you from the inside. You don't believe there's ever been a space quite as big as the one she wished into existence between your heart and hers. So how can you not? How can you not go on an excursion to find out how to summon this love into being?

"Hey!" Kara taps on your window and you turn around to look at her. "What's the emergency?"

"I need to go on a trip." You say. Packed bags at the edge of the couch, forced smile on your face. She flies in, landing close to it.

"Whe –"

"Can't tell you where. Just wanted to give you a heads-up so you won't worry."

Kara studies you, suspicion evident in her eyes. "Did something happen? Are you going on a mission?"

"No!" You rush to assure her, preventing any further questions. "No, no. Nothing happened, really. It's not a –" But it is a mission of sorts. "Not a real mission, maybe one just to answer a question that keeps me fast awake at night."

Kara squints her eyes looking at you, clearly finding your act extremely suspicious, and you curse yourself for your breath stuck in your lungs and the heart beating almost out of your body.

"Kara, you don't need to worry, I promise."

"Too late! Am worried!" She breathes out, sitting on your couch, right next to your bag. "What's going on? You've been acting weird these days. And DON'T –" She points at you accusingly, because she knows you were about to open your mouth and defend yourself. "say you're not, because I know you and you can't fool me, no matter how much you want to."

She's right. Kara knows you inside out. But there's one thing she's mistaken about: you've been successfully fooling her for months.

This pining over Lena, this ridiculous huge crush you've been nurturing for Lena Luthor has been going for far too long. You crave the way she smells and how she talks. You dream about green eyes and perfect arched eyebrows directed at you. You're consistently going out of your way just to see her. You jump on cases, and suggest team pairings. It's crazy the fact that no one noticed yet, because honestly? You don't think you're doing a far too good of a job when your mouth literally drops at the sight of her.

And yet, your best friends haven't figured it out. None of them. Not even the Kryptonian with super hearing and x-ray vision. 

"You have nothing to worry about, really. But I can't tell you where I'm going, so you're just gonna have to trust me on this one." You try your best puppy eyes and sweet smile. "You do, right? You trust me?"

Kara's eyes soften immediately as she stands and comes closer to you, "Of course I do, Y/N. You're a strong, powerful woman and you can take care of yourself." She reaches for your arm and winks at you. "Plus, you have me on speed dial."

She means the watch.

You agree with your head and hug her goodbye.

You've never been to another Earth. Have heard enough about it, though, to not look completely lost and out of place. So you do your research, does Supergirl exist? Is Lena running some kind of business empire? Where do all the heroes meet up?

You're quick to find out, LuthorCorp is still very much a thing here, and it's run by yours truly, your so-called wife, Lena. So you make your way there first thing. 

"Hi," You try, while talking to the receptionist. "I'm here to see Lena, I'm –"

"Mrs. Luthor!"

Startled, you glance behind, finding no one. "Where?" Then the realization dawns. "Oh. Oh! You mean me. Yeah, I never quite got used to it. Can I go up?"

"Of course, ma'am."

You step into the elevator, musing over how Lena's last name sounds rather fitting when associated with you. In fact, you might prefer it to your own.

"Mrs. Luthor," you overhear Lena's assistant on the phone as soon as she spots you. "Your wife is here."

You make a gesture to correct her, but she's already running to the door. "Mrs. Luthor, please." she nods at you.

"Oh, you don't have – it's ok. I can –" You finally smile back at her. "I'll take it from here, thanks."

As soon as the door closes behind you, Lena makes her way towards you.

Holy shit, she's a mirror image of your Lena. Not a single strand of hair out of place. She even wears the same style of heels your Lena used to, with a high ponytail and those perfect red lips curved into a smile.

"Darling, I didn't know you were dropping by." Before you can say anything, she's planting a kiss on you—a short, sweet peck that catches you off guard. It takes a few moments for you to close your eyes and reciprocate, only to find Lena pulling away. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm not your wife!" The words burst out before she can lean in again, the realization hitting you hard. It hurts to say, especially when all you want is to kiss Lena once more, even though she's not truly your Lena.

"What?" Lena's eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"I'm a different Y/N. From another Earth." You point to yourself, trying to convey the truth. She stares at you in disbelief, so you rack your brain for ways to convince her. "Call your wife, and you'll see."

Lena blinks, then reaches for her phone on her desk. After a brief conversation, she hangs up. "You're not my wife," she confirms, setting her phone down. "Sorry for the unexpected kiss. You look exactly like her. Well, you are her."

"It's okay. I can't say I hated it." You admit, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks at her amused smirk. Maybe you shouldn't have said that.

"Let me guess, your own world is in danger, and you need our help, or something equally insane?" Lena guesses with a sigh.

"My world is fine. But I do need your help with something insane."

Lena gestures toward the couch, and you follow suit. "Do tell, not-my-wife."

"How did we end up together in this universe? How did I win you over?" You're not even half seated yet and are blurting out questions.

"Win me over?" Lena chuckles at your choice of words. "Oh, darling. You fell in love with a Lena?"

"I'm afraid I did. Except mine is in love with Kara, so –"

"Oh, ok." This Lena shakes her head like that thought is insane. "Can't help you in that area. I was always in love with you – your version from here. In fact, you didn't win me over. I was the one who had to win you."

"Oh yeah, that was probably so hard. Flash those green eyes and a knowing smirk at me, and I'm already head over heels for you." 

Lena nods in agreement, a smile playing on her lips. "To be honest, that was pretty much it."

Great, this entire excursion to another universe was useless. This Y/N finally got the girl, and you can't be helped.

"I'm sorry," Lena is quick to say. "I know I was of no help, but don't lose hope!"

"How do you know–"

"Please, Y/N. I am your wife." She reaches for your hand, smiling warmly. "If you fell in love with me here and in your universe, there's likely others where we end up together. I'm not saying you can visit them all—"

"I will visit them all!" You declare, rising from the couch, and you can practically feel Lena rolling her eyes. As you stand, she does too, and you share a goodbye hug. "Thanks for your help, not-my-wife! A pity kiss goodbye in case I never get the girl?"

She chuckles at your jest and plants a kiss on your cheek. "I'm certain you'll get her."

With renewed determination, you prepare for another journey to another Earth.

[janaelalfysblunt]

𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 - aubrey griffin

pairing: aubrey griffin x singer!fem!reader

basically what the song's about lowkey?

The crowd at Madison Square Garden roared as you finished the final chords of your hit song, "Dress." The song had taken the world by storm, its lyrics filled with longing and secret passion, leaving fans and media alike speculating about the mysterious muse behind it. Little did they know, the inspiration was standing just off-stage, her heart pounding with pride and love.

Aubrey watched you with a mix of admiration and adoration. The two of you had been best friends for years, your bond deepening over shared secrets and stolen glances. It wasn’t until a year ago that those feelings were finally voiced, and since then, you had both been navigating the thrilling world of a secret relationship.

Backstage, you could feel the excitement and tension. The concert was a success, but now came the part you dreaded most: the post-show interview. Reporters would undoubtedly ask about the song, as they had in every other interview since its release. You took a deep breath, stealing a glance at Aubrey. She gave you a reassuring smile, the kind that made your heart flutter and your resolve strengthen.

"Y/N, your song 'Dress' has captivated millions. The lyrics are so intimate and personal. Can you tell us who it's about?" the first reporter asked as you took your seat in front of the cameras.

You chuckled, a rehearsed but genuine sound. "You know, I've been asked that a lot. I think part of the magic of music is letting people find their own stories in the songs. 'Dress' is very personal to me, and I think it resonates with so many because we've all had that person who makes us feel something deep and intense."

The reporters pressed on, but you expertly dodged their attempts to unearth the truth. You'd become a professional at keeping your love life under wraps, protecting what was most precious to you. Only a select few knew the real story, and that was exactly how you wanted it.

After the interview, you slipped away to your dressing room, longing for a moment of solitude. You found Aubrey waiting there, a proud smile on her face.

"You handled that well," she said, her voice soft and filled with admiration.

"Thanks," you replied, stepping into her embrace. "It's getting harder, though. I want to tell the world about us."

Aubrey pulled back slightly to look into your eyes. "I know, but right now, it's our secret. And there's something kind of beautiful about that, don’t you think?"

You nodded, knowing she was right. The secrecy added a layer of intensity to your relationship, every hidden touch and whispered word charged with electricity. You pressed a soft kiss to her lips, grateful for her understanding and patience.

Months passed, and the speculation about "Dress" continued to grow. Every time you performed it, you could feel the weight of the audience's curiosity. But you also felt the warmth of Aubrey's gaze, always watching, always supporting.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of interviews and rehearsals, you found yourself alone in your apartment, with phone in your hand, on call with Aubrey. Ahe had to go back to connecticut due to her basketball practices and you missed her dearly. The city buzzed outside, but within these walls, it was just the two of you.

"Do you ever wish we could just tell everyone?" you asked, voicing the question that had been on your mind all day.

Aubrey considering her answer. "Sometimes, yes. But then I remember that what we have is ours. No one else can touch it or judge it. It's pure."

You smiled, feeling the truth of her words. "You're right. But maybe one day, we won't have to hide."

"Maybe," Aubrey agreed. "But for now, I'm happy just being with you, however that looks."

You wanted to nestle into her embrace, so you could feel a sense of peace. The world could speculate all it wanted, but the truth was something only you and Aubrey shared. And for now, that was more than enough.

The end of the tour brought a bittersweet feeling. You loved performing, but you also craved the quiet moments with Aubrey. As the final concert approached, you decided to do something bold.

Standing on stage, the audience cheering wildly, you took a deep breath. "I want to thank everyone for coming out tonight," you began. "This is the last show of the tour and i couldn't be thankful for everyone who was with me through this year. This last song is very special to me. It's about someone who means the world to me." Even though, Aubrey supposed to be in Connecticut she didn't want to miss this show.

You could see Aubrey watching from the side of the stage, her eyes wide with surprise. "This is 'Dress,'" you continued, "and it's for you."

The crowd erupted in applause, but all you could see was Aubrey, tears of joy shining in her eyes. As you sang, you poured all your love and passion into the performance, knowing that finally, the world would know the truth.

When the last note faded, you walked off the stage, straight into Aubrey's arms. The cameras flashed, capturing the moment, but you didn't care. This was your story, your love, and you were finally ready to share it with the world.

From that night on, things were different. The media frenzy was intense, but you faced it together, stronger for having shared your truth. And every time you sang "Dress," you did so with a heart full of love, knowing that everyone now knew it was about the incredible woman by your side.

And in the end, that was the greatest encore of all.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (18)

Families

Arianwyn is joyfully greeted by Queen Alicent, Princess Helaena, and her young children. But the happy reunion is soon ended as she is called to attend dinner with her Daemon, Rhaenyra, and their children.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: none

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Arianwyn was frozen in place as Aemond suddenly pulled away from her to greet whoever had just intruded on them.

Had she truly been pressed so intimately into Aemond’s side, his hand encompassing her waist? Had she really leaned closer to him, raising her hand to his face to touch that scar? Had she forgotten her propriety so thoroughly?

She could not deny the chill on her side where Aemond had been only moments ago, nor how her skin tingled where his hands had been only moments ago. Still, she tried not to think of how her fingers tingled with the desire to touch him and pull him back to her or how her lips yearned for his.

He was not the boy she had known so many years ago. That boy had never made her feel like this, like she was endlessly hungering for something she did not understand. She shook her head to clear her mind and stood from the couch just moments before slender arms swept her into a tight embrace.

“Oh, Aria,” Alicent said softly, swaying slightly as she held her niece. “Thank the Seven that you are here. We have all missed you so dearly.” She pulled away, placing a hand on Arianwyn’s flushed cheek. “How beautiful you have become.”

The queen, too, was just as beautiful as Arianwyn remembered, though there were new shadows around her eyes. Even as she smiled, there was the ghost of a frown on her lips. Before Arianwyn could ask what was troubling her beloved aunt, delighted screeches from the hall drew her eyes to the children toddling into the room behind Helaena, headed directly for Aemond.

Both wore matching clothing and bore the same long mop of white-blond silver hair. But only one leaped up and down at Aemond’s feet, begging to be held by his uncle. The other leaned against him, one arm wrapped around his leg. Finally, with a soft sigh, he bent down and lifted them both, one in each arm. Joyous laughter echoed throughout the room.

Then, Aemond smiled just as she remembered – wide and bright. It was the most wonderful thing she had ever seen.

“Come,” Alicent said, tugging on Arianwyn’s arm. “Meet the children. They have heard so much about you.” She led her to where Helaena stood by a window, the youngest of her children propped against her hip.

“Hello, Helaena,” Arianwyn stepped close to her cousin but did not move to embrace her. Helaena has always had an odd aversion to being touched. “I’m so very glad to see you again.”

The Princess’ smile widened even further, “I missed you very much, Aria. I had a present for you, but we couldn’t find the maid to help dress the children, and we were running late, so I forgot it.”

Arianwyn shook her head, “There’s no need for gifts.” Besides, she was sure the gift would be some kind of insect and was perfectly content with not receiving it. “All I ask is that you introduce me to these wonderful little creatures.” She punctuated her request with a light touch against the soft nose of the babe in Helaena’s arms.

“This is Maelor,” Helaena lifted the child higher so Arianwyn could see him better. “He was born nearly two years ago. The moon was full that night – and yellow. I could see it through the window from the birthing bed.”

The boy’s face was as round as a full moon, still as plump as a newborn. His eyes, too, were large and round, his irises a deep violet. He tilted his head as he took in Arianwyn for the first time, recognizing the color of her hair but unable to identify her.

“Hello, Maelor,” Arianwyn cooed, “my name is Arianwyn. I am your cousin.”

Maelor squinted his eyes as he considered the new name. “Ow… Owry…” he mumbled.

Alicent chuckled. “Not ‘Ow,” darling,” she corrected her grandson. “Ah! Ah – ree – ann – win.” All three women listened with rapt attention as the young boy continued to sound out the name and showered him with praise when he finally succeeded.

“Mother, can you please help me?” Aemond’s voice finally tore them away from the babe. He still held both children in his arms, though he struggled to maintain the delicate balance. One of the twins was doing her best—which was not very good—to braid a large section of his hair while her brother tried to draw Aemond’s sword from its sheath.

When Alicent and Arianwyn only laughed at his predicament, Aemond frowned. “While I appreciate the humor, I do genuinely require assistance,” he pleaded, the helplessness in his voice only sending the women into a deeper fit of laughter.

His suffering lasted only a moment before his mother came to his rescue, taking the young boy in her arms and away from the sword. Arianwyn followed, admiring the catastrophic braid encompassing nearly half of Aemond’s hair. It was probably a blessing that it was on his blind side.

“You’re doing such a lovely job,” she told her young cousin. “I have always wanted to braid his hair, but he never allowed me to do so.” The girl only blushed and hid her head in Aemond’s shoulder.

Aemond patted the child’s back. “There is no need to be afraid, Jaehaera,” he whispered. “This is your cousin Arianwyn. I told you about her. She is the one who reads so wonderfully.”

But the girl was not moved by his words. She buried herself further into the safety of her uncle, letting out a soft whine. Aemond looked to Arianwyn, a silent apology in his eye. Before she could reassure him, he blinked, as if seeing something in her face for the first time.

“Jaehaera,” he said gently,” Don’t you think Arianwyn looks like Lady Lovely?”

While Arianwyn had not the faintest idea what he meant, Jaehaera finally turned back around to look at her.

When she brought her arm around from behind Aemond’s back, Arianwyn understood. Jaehaera clutched a small cloth doll made to resemble a Valyrian princess. The yarn of the doll’s hair had long since unraveled, leaving it with a wild mane of silvery-white curls, and the small buttons it bore in place of eyes had only a few flecks of purple paint left on them, revealing the metallic gray of the iron beneath. It did bear a marked resemblance to Arianwyn.

Jaehaera held the doll up, and though she still did not say anything, she examined Arianwyn with a profound curiosity in her eyes. Then, slowly, the fear faded from her eyes, and a pleased grin spread across her face.

Feeling left out, her twin brother wriggled out of his grandmother’s arms and ran to Arianwyn, tugging at her skirts. “Will you read us a story?”

“You must be Jaehaerys,” Arianwyn cooed, leaning down to face him. He was a strong boy, large for his age, with a freckled face full of joy. He also had, Arianwyn noticed, six fingers on his left hand.

“How did you know?” Jaehaerys asked, his eyes as large as dinner plates.

Arianwyn took his hand and led him to the couch. “Your mother and uncle have written to me about you.” She lifted him onto the plush cushions and sat next to him. “And I have been eager to meet you ever since.”

Jaehaerys blushed. When Aemond set Jaehaera on the couch, her brother immediately seized her hand and pulled her close. “Air-ee-ann-win is going to read us a story!” he exclaimed.

Aemond smiled. How could he not? Nearly all the people he cared for were with him in this room that was as much home to him as his own. Seeing Aria sitting on their couch with the twins on either side of her felt like the sweetest of dreams and softened his long-hardened heart.

All these years, he had felt guilt curling in his chest whenever he felt any contentment, for he knew that Aria was alone and miserable across the Blackwater, locked in a tower and surrounded by enemies. Now, he could allow himself to feel his happiness wholly.

“There’s a story in there I think they would enjoy,” he said, pointing to the book Arianwyn had left on the couch. “The Dawn of the Dragons.”

But then came a knock at the door, and Ser Criston Cole entered, his expression dour. “Apologies, your Grace,” he bowed his head to the Queen as he approached. “Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon are searching for Lady Arianwyn.”

“Why?” Aemond felt only a tinge of guilt when Jaehaera covered her ears, his anger getting the better of him as he nearly shouted. But indignation swept it away in moments. How dare they try to take Aria away from him already?

“We are to dine together as a family,” Aria said softly, rising from the couch. “Before the petition tomorrow.”

Jaehaerys whined from behind her, again seizing her skirts. “But you have to read us a story!”

With a sad smile, she leaned down, removed his hand from his dress, and held it against her chest. “I will, I promise,” she said. “But not tonight, I’m afraid.”

Satisfied with her promise, he nodded and released her.

After bidding the twins and Helaena farewell, Aria finally approached Aemond. “Thank you,” she whispered for only him to hear. “For the books, for this place. For being so… you.”

His heart was breaking. These few minutes weren’t enough. He needed more—he needed her.  Not caring that his mother could see, he took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I only just got you back.”

“I am not leaving forever,” she assured with a squeeze of his hand. “I will see you again tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” he repeated. He could wait until tomorrow. But what about the day after? And all those that would follow?

Aria pulled away from him, turning to his mother. “May I beg a favor, Aunt?”

Alicent brushed a silver curl from her face. “Of course, my darling. Anything.”

Their conversation faded to murmurs as Aemond focused only on watching Aria, memorizing every bit of her to sustain him in the hours until he saw her again. Her hair, her eyes, her slender fingers that had felt so cool against his cheek…

“…the Hand and I shall preside over the petition.”

“Then you can grant my request! I can return home!”

Elation burning hotter than the very heart of a dragon burst within Aemond. Of course! It had been the king's order that had taken Aria away from him, but now the king was little more than a corpse, unable to sit the throne.

Unable to enforce his own decrees.

In the king’s absence, it was the Hand and the Queen that ruled – his mother and grandsire. They could order Aria’s release, and there would be nothing Daemon or Rhaenyra could do to stop it. She would not have to wait any longer to escape her father. She could be free tomorrow.

“Tomorrow,” he whispered again as she turned back to him one last time before following Criston out of the room. She smiled, that sweet soft thing he loved so much, and nodded.

He only had to wait for tomorrow, not only to see her again, but to have her back with him for every tomorrow of the rest of their lives.

Arianwyn turned as the door to her childhood quarters closed behind her, tracing the Runes she had carved in the wood so many years ago with a finger. How foolish she had been, thinking she needed protection from beasts and spirits. The true danger did not bear teeth or fur, nor did it come to haunt her from beyond the grave. The only monster she ever need fear was her father.

But now, with the queen’s promises, she need only spend one more night under his thumb.

The thought calmed her nerves as Ser Criston led Arianwyn not to the Royal Residences of Maegor’s Holdfast, but to the opposite end of the Keep and the guest quarters. No doubt that snub had Daemon seething.

When they encountered Rhaenyra’s household guards who had been searching for her, Ser Criston did not leave Arianwyn’s side. He insisted upon taking her to the dining hall door. She was grateful for his comforting presence; he had always been kind to her.

When they stood before the door where he would leave her, Cole turned to face Arianwyn. Like the Queen, he bore dark circles of exhaustion beneath his eyes. What had happened while she’d been gone?

“My Lady, will you be safe in there, by yourself?” the Kingsguard asked, “I can accompany you if you wish.”

Arianwyn smiled, touched by his protectiveness. “I have survived six years of meals with my family. What is one more?”

Cole laughed, but the seriousness never left his dark eyes. “Just remember, you are among allies again – I count myself among them. If you should need me, I will be there.”

“Thank you, Ser Criston,” Aria replied. “For more than your thoughtful words.”

“It is my duty and my honor, my Lady,” he said as he stepped away, fixing the Dragonstone guards with a glare that promised they would be held personally responsible if anything happened to her. As soon as he rounded the corner, the doors to the dining hall were opened.

Her siblings and Rhaenyra turned to look at Arianwyn as she entered, but Daemon kept his back turned. Only Rhaena smiled at her, though after she received an elbow in the side from her sister, Baela offered a nod in place of a greeting.

Once Arianwyn took her place behind her chair, Rhaenyra tugged on Daemon’s arm and pulled him toward the table. As protocol demanded, everyone waited until Rhaenyra had taken her seat at the head of the table before taking their seats.

The princess spoke first, as always, asking Baela how she had enjoyed her years on Driftmark with her grandparents. For most of the meal, she regaled them with fantastical tales of the places she had visited on her grandsire’s ship and boasted of how much she had learned about sailing great. She even showed her family a fine dagger she had received as a courting gift from a young Braavosi nobleman.

When Baela finally tired of telling her stories, Rhaenyra asked her sons, “Did you enjoy exploring the castle? Is everything as you remember it?”

“Not everything,” Lucerys answered, somewhat morose, as he pushed the peas on his plate into a vague seven-pointed star before smashing them. “There are a lot more stars than I remember.”

Jace chuckled, piling several slices of beef onto his plate. “Some things are the same. Do you remember when Luke tried to use Ser Criston’s morningstar? They have not replaced the brick he shattered trying to swing it.”

“That morningstar is massive,” Baela added, staring at her young cousin in disbelief. “I doubt you could even swing it now. Whatever possessed you to try it back then?”

Luke blushed under the attention of his whole family, his voice quiet as he recalled the tale. “Cole let Aemond swing it a few times. I wanted to see if I could, too.”

“And he could not,” Jace laughed after a deep swig of his wine. His eyes caught Arianwyn’s, and his amusement faded into something she could not identify. “Aemond was training when we arrived. It was clear that Cole is still coddling him – he let him think he won their fight just to stroke his fragile ego.”

Arianwyn slammed her fork down, catching the edge of her plate and cracking the porcelain. The eyes of her family and the servants turned to her, complete shock on their faces. She had never so much as cleared her throat to draw attention at a dinner before, so such a disturbance was entirely unexpected.

She fixed her steely gaze on Jace, letting him see every bit of her disdain. “If you truly believed that, why were you so scared of him?”

“Arianwyn!” Rhaenyra scolded.

Daemon stayed silent, leaning back in his chair with a dangerous shadow in his eyes.

Both went entirely ignored by Arianwyn, who continued to stare unflinchingly at her stepbrother.

“I was not – I am not afraid!” Jace shouted in desperation, immediately betraying the blatant lie.

Arianwyn tilted her head, “I watched that fight just as you did. I know as well as you that Aemond earned his victory. He defeated one of the greatest knights in all the Seven Kingdoms, and he is such a fine warrior that it was easy for him.”

“Is that what he told you when you ran off with him?” Jace asked, lip curling in disgust. “Alone? Tell me, where did the two of you go?”

For that, Arianwyn had no clever retort.

Rhaenyra turned to her again. “Is this true?”

Arianwyn, at last, looked to her stepmother. “Nothing happened.”

It was not exactly true. How many times had he touched her, or she him? She could still feel his hand around her waist and his fingers on her skin. Her heart still fluttered when she remembered how close his lips had come to hers.

Rhaenyra sighed, her expression hardening. “Jace, take Luke, Baela, and Rhaena to the solar.”

As the others rose from the table and Rhaenyra dismissed the servants, Arianwyn scowled at Jace, hoping that her silent message that she would have her revenge somehow made it through his thick skull.

So, she remained motionless in her seat, looking down at her broken plate, the physical proof that she had let her excitement about the next day get the better of her and cloud her judgment. She may be free tomorrow, but today, she was still a prisoner.

“You were alone with Prince Aemond,” Rhaenyra said—a statement, not a question.

Arianwyn stared straight ahead, refusing to meet her stepmother’s eye. “Yes.”

“How many people know?”

“Everyone in the training yard, I suppose. And the queen. Princess Helaena.”

Daemon laughed then, as he always did at the worst possible moments. Rhaenyra stood from the table, clamping her hand on his shoulder to quiet him as she approached Arianwyn.

“You do realize the scandal this could cause, don’t you?” Rhaenyra asked, seemingly unaware of the irony in her question. The woman who brazenly bore three bastards was about to lecture her stepdaughter about causing a scandal. “It would reflect poorly on the whole family.”

Arianwyn scoffed. “For someone else, perhaps. But everyone at court knows of my friendship with Aemond. I am sure no one imagined anything untoward.” Even as she spoke with all the confidence she could muster, she knew that in her rooms, she and Aemond had come very close to ‘untoward.’

Rhaenyra finally came to Arianwyn’s chair. “Stand up,” she ordered, “look at me.”

While she wanted to refuse, Arianwyn knew to do so would only further infuriate her father. So, she stood, facing her stepmother.

“You and Aemond are no longer children,” the Princess began, “there can no longer be any assumptions of innocence between you. He is a young man, and you are a beautiful young woman.”

Daemon laughed again. “She will not be swayed by your words, dear wife,” he said with barely concealed amusement, “Royce women are stubborn as stone.”

“How would you know what Royce women are like?” Arianwyn spat, pushing past her stepmother to face her father. “You hardly even spoke to Rhea before the day you raped and murdered her!”

Arianwyn thought that finally saying the words aloud would bring relief. It did not. It only intensified the cold rage burning within her until she was sure there was frost on her breath.

Daemon rose from the table, and with a lopsided grin, he stared down at her and spoke, “It wasn’t me that killed her, girl. That was you, clawing your way out of her shriveled cunt.”

With a shriek, Arianwyn raised her hand to hit him. To claw open his skin and rip out his eyes. She knew it was his blood in her veins that spurred her to such instinctual violence, but it didn’t matter. So long as it allowed her to cause him even a small part of the pain he had caused her mother, she would welcome that blood into her heart.

But Daemon was faster than her. He dodged her clumsy attack and seized her wrist with one hand, wrapping the other around her neck. His grip was not so tight as to restrict her breath but hard enough that she knew he easily could if he wanted to.

“My wife still thinks it important that we maintain the façade of a loving family. I am under no such pretense.” His voice was laced with venom as he hissed into her ear. “Your only value is as a virgin cunt I can sell to the highest bidder when the time comes. If the world thinks you a whore, you have no worth to me, and I have no reason to keep you alive.”

Arianwyn’s heart froze colder than ever before. Was this the fear her mother felt that day in the Vale?

With one last look over her face, his eyes filled with disgust, Daemon released his daughter and stalked out of the room.

Falling to her knees with her hands clutching her aching neck, Arianwyn looked up to Rhaenyra. She wasn’t sure whether she expected the Princess to comfort her or threaten her further.

She did neither.

Rhaenyra said nothing. She only gathered her skirts and followed her husband out of the room to join her children—her true family.

For the second time in her life, Arianwyn was left alone in a dining hall, clutching her aching neck. But this had not been a victory.

Tomorrow, everything would be better, she told herself. She only had to wait a few more hours.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

oh!! Oh!!! Lamb with a reader who taught him how to use the red crown as a gun!! Reader is flexing their talent like "haha yeah I was shamuras best (and like only) shot >:)" and follower shamura (who is maybe readers s/o??) is just like "I vaguely remember a report coming of you shooting one of the windows of my temple...." but lamb and reader have that vibe thats like older cousin younger cousin that cause chaos at every gathering their both at

"What is this..?"

"My, you've done it! The power of a blunderbuss now belongs to you, dear Lamb."

"The blunder...wha..?" Tilting their head, Lamb stared at the rather odd weapon the Red Crown manifested itself into recently, before looking back at you.

You're a weapons expert from Silk Cradle, becoming an apprentice of Kudaai to better hone you combat capabilities while in service to Bishop Shamura. Although you were good with blades and arrows, the old bird allowed you to indulge into a different type of weaponry:

The blunderbuss. A powerful weapon that shot magic bullets, the damage dependent on how close your target was.

Its potential drew you towards it--like a moth to a flame--and you began studying it, utilizing it in any situation where you had to fight for your life. Even after winding up in Lamb's cult, they allowed you to keep the weapon so long as you didn't raise it against any of their followers.

You wouldn't dare to.

Not after seeing their incredible power gifted by the One Who Waits...who was now the cult's undertaker for the day, tending to the crypts and all the dearly departed who laid within them.

From the moment you heard Lamb had begun to harness their own blunderbuss, they seemed lost on how to use it, so they turned to you for an explanation.

You listened to their recounts of putting several holes through scamper heads, sniping flying beasts right out of the sky, and even making shield-bearing heretics recoil from the sheer force of the bullets.

"It's indeed a highly unconventional weapon," you told them. "Rarely known to anyone in the Old Faith except Shamura, Kudaai, and myself. But as you can tell...it beats the bow of a silly archer any day. They're dead before their arrow even made it out of the quiver."

"That is true," the sheep nodded, looking to their own weapon, the red eye staring back at them. "I notice that it refills on its own...but it took forever. I kept clicking the damn trigger, but nothing." With a small grumble, they glared at you. "I was in a tough spot, and had to use a curse to escape..otherwise I would've been dead--not that it matters..but it was annoying."

"I was going to mention that little tradeoff, Lamb." You chuckled softly. "With the blunderbuss, patience becomes your greatest virtue."

"Well..patience won't help when I'm surrounded by fanatics who are still making martyrs out of the Bishops, and I'm backed into a corner with little fervor, and I can't-"

"What of the Bishops?"

A raspy voice spoke, startling Lamb a little as you both saw a certain purple arachnid now standing over you two. Despite their menacing looks, their eyes were full of curiosity.

"A-Ah, Shamura."

"Shamura." You warmly greeted, patting the spot beside you. "Come sit. Lamb has an inquiry."

Wordlessly, they sat and glanced at the leader, waiting for whatever they had to say.

"Erm..what do you know about this?" They showed them the blunderbuss. "The people of Anchordeep and Silk Cradle supposedly have the most advanced weaponry..yet I haven't seen one person wield anything like this. Were these outlawed or something?"

Without speaking or blinking, Shamura took it into their hands, examining it thoroughly. They seemed rather focused...although it could have been due to the fact the Red Crown had taken form of it, which made Lamb a bit nervous.

Even though the Bishops couldn't do anything with it now, they still got fidgety whenever it left their side for too long...and even more nervous seeing it resting in the hands of another.

"I see...I remember something clearly." Shamura spoke after a long minute of silence.

"You do?"

"The broken window of my temple...was supposedly from one of the magic shells. Who informed me? Not a clue..but I knew the guilty party." All of their eyes suddenly shifted to you, narrowed with suspicion.

You looked around, pretending to play dumb, before you pointed to a random follower. "You mean him?"

"....take me naught for a fool, [y/n]." They hissed. "You were always trigger happy. We have barred use of this from the fighting pit. As an old saying goes, "never bring a blunderbuss to a knife fight".....who said it? I cannot say. But I knew who didn't like that rule."

"You have to admit, though, I was your best sharpshooter." You winked, smiling as they handed the blunderbuss back to you. "The archers were all jealous that I had better aim. I did offer to teach them."

"You were always trigger happy. We have barred use of this from the fighting pit.."

"Yes we have. I'm the one who got it banned in Silk Cradle." Feeling a little awkward, you laughed nervously. "But it's good to see that somebody else is able to learn the art of gunslinging."

"Now that Lamb has obtained knowledge of this tool..." Shamura hummed. "..what are you to do with it?"

Your leader was silent for a few moments, wondering if they should mention shooting freefalling spiders and stopping charger bugs dead in their tracks....when you interjected.

"They still have much to learn about it. So maybe we could borrow some training dummies from Kudaai, and I'll help them improve their marksmanship....if they wish to learn, of course." Nudging their shoulder, Lamb perked up and gazed at you for a few seconds, surprised by your offer.

Then they grinned, a twinkle in their eye as their crown returned to their head, back to normal. "You'd teach me how to master the blunderbuss?"

"Why not? You've mastered every other weapon." Laughing softly, you stood up, before extending your hand to them. "Perhaps we can have Ratau set up old worm corpses for us, and I can show you how to aim for the most vital organs."

"Wouldn't those be the brain and the heart?"

"See? You're already learning well. You'll be a natural in no time, Leader."

Lamb's smile widened as they took your hand, standing up before you two set off for the Lonely Shack.

Meanwhile, Shamura remained on the ground, sighing as they pondered over the mischief you two will bring to that old rat and his friends..

And Leshy had the misfortune of overhearing those last few bits of your conversation, as he unearthed himself from the soil just a few feet away from his sibling, spitting out dirt.

"As if my minions dying wasn't disgraceful enough...Lamb and your silly "sharpshooter" will spend today desecrateing their corpses for practice?!" He shuddered. "They think so...alike."

"Have you not used dissenters for the same purpose, brother?"

"..I used to be chaos, Shamura. That's different."

[p0orbaby]

Tapping In

summary: you’re shattered, Katie makes up for her time away

warnings: just general descriptions of tiredness

a/n: not based on my current state…

word count: 603

-

You looked utterly drained.

Even from several feet away, Katie couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under your eyes. It was entirely understandable; caring for a four-year-old and a toddler on your own for two weeks was no easy feat.

As she stood there, unnoticed, observing you spoon-feeding Maeve, multitasking by wiping down surfaces, and keeping a watchful eye on Finn engrossed in his Lego’s, she couldn’t help but wonder how she got so lucky.

It was her daughter who was the first to sense her presence. Maeve’s green eyes widened at the sight of her ma. Her excited squeal causing you to turn around in response to her commotion, offering a tired yet warm smile as your wife fully entered the kitchen.

“Mornin’ baby” Katie whispered against your temple. Kissing you there, smelling the remnants of your shampoo in your tousled, sleep mussed hair. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

You lean into her touch, closing your eyes at the way she plays with the baby hairs at the nape of your neck. Sighing at how she squeezes some tension out of your shoulders with her free hand.

“You needed rest” you state like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve been working hard, you got home late. I thought you could do with a lie-in”

Katie hummed, nodding her head in understanding. Her eyes leaving the way your body slumped against hers, to her children. To Maeve smacking her chubby hands against the tray of her high chair. And to Finn who was in his own little world. A determined frown that challenged your own as he kept to building whatever it was he decided to that morning.

The children remained blissfully unaware of just how utterly shattered you were – an innocence that neither of you could ever hold against them. You loved them more than you could ever imagine, but they were a handful. A perfectly imperfect handful.

“Alright, let’s switch,” Katie finally instructed. “C’mon”

With a groan, you summoned the strength to move, handing her the spoon you’d been using to feed Maeve when she extended her hand for it.

“Hey, Finnster, how about a trip to the park later? A little day date with me and your sister?” Katie suggested.

Finn looked up from his task, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm as he eagerly nodded in agreement.

“Babe, you don’t have to-“

“Ah ah” she interrupted. “I do and that’s that”

If you weren’t so tired you think you could cry.

You remembered the early mornings when Maeve’s cries pierced the silence, and you’d rush to her side, fumbling to change nappies and prepare bottles while trying not to wake the entire house. The sleepless nights had become a storm you would happily weather.

Then, there were Finn’s moments of mischief. You’d find him scribbling crayon on the walls or discover his secret stash of cookies in the back of his wardrobe. But every time you looked into his bright eyes, full of wonder and excitement, you couldn’t help but smile through the fatigue.

It was no question that you loved them both dearly. More than anything in the world. But these past two weeks had been hard, and you really needed a break.

So you finally relinquished your role. With Katie transitioning seamlessly back into the ebb and flow of your morning routine. The kitchen seemed to hum with a sense of energy and ease that had been absent for days. And you couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for the person you had chosen to share this life with.