#feign flora

[shrimpricebowl]

art dump II

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ah!!! oc jumpscare!!! i should post them more....maybe

(they have been collecting dust for months)

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners

Chapter 1 - Hate For All Sinners

A/N – I couldn’t stop thinking about this short King after episode 5 of Hazbin Hotel came out. This is mostly a fic for me, to get me back into writing. (WILL DO A MALE AND NONBINARY ONE SOON!)

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

MALE VERSION HERE

NON-BINARY / GN VERSION HERE

“Who’s that?” Lucifer asked, pointing you out to Charlie.

In truth, he would’ve likely asked that of the next person he saw. As Charlie’s father, Lucifer was trying desperately to show how interested he was in his daughter’s project, even if he was barely holding onto anything she said. It wasn’t that he was disinterested, or too ignorant to understand the situation, but rather that after spending so much time as a recluse, locked away in the protective space of his workshop where he wouldn’t have to see the sinners or the Hell he was responsible for creating, Lucifer could barely comprehend what was going on around him. He knew it was because he was depressed, but he was trying and he had to make Charlie see that, even if it meant feigning fits of hypomanic excitement.

Yet, Lucifer found himself genuinely… horrified by you. He had seen many types of Demon over the millennia. Typically, they tended to represent Earth’s animals, such as that annoyingly powerful Deer Demon, Alistair, whom Lucifer had met thanks to this very tour… not that Alistair was worth mentioning, piece of shit that he was, mingling with Lucifer’s daughter when he had no right to even breathe the same air as her-

Lucifer caught his snowballing thoughts, turning them back to you. You weren’t an animal Demon. There were other types of Demons of course, though Flora and Fauna were the most common; object Demons also existed, such as that rather famous one that people talked about, the TV Demon, V-something? Lucifer couldn’t remember his name. He didn’t watch Television… he didn’t do much of anything these days.

“Oh,” Charlie sidled over to you, wrapping her arm warmly around your shoulder as she corralled you towards her father, “Dad, this is (Y/N). She’s one of the hotel’s, uh, allies I guess, right (Y/N)?”

“That’s right, Sir,” You held out your hand for Lucifer, who was staring dumbly at you, uncertain what to make of you.

As the ruler of Hell, fuelled by angelic power, Lucifer could always read a Demon, or rather, he could read their strength. For example, he knew after only one meeting that the bartender, Husk was a strong Demon, though his power was clearly being dampened by a soul contract, whereas that little snake fellow Sir Pentious was rather weak, though he had potential if he could manage to claim even a few souls of his own, but you? You were entirely different.

First off, you didn’t resemble an animal, plant, or object… You were the most human-looking Demon that Lucifer had ever seen; frankly, he found that disturbing. Secondly, you didn’t seem to have much if any power. What was wrong with you? To come off as human with little demonic power… Well, if Lucifer didn’t know any better, he would guess that you weren’t a sinner at all, but you had to be. You were definitely dead; that much he could tell. And, you were in Hell.

Dead and in Hell - those were the only two qualifications for becoming a Demon, so why were you like this?

“Dad, are you listening?” Charlie said exasperatedly, clearly annoyed that Lucifer’s thoughts seemed to have trailed off once again.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Lucifer stated, staring at your hand which you had seemingly retracted when he wasn’t paying attention. Damnation! Now Charlie was going to think he had snubbed her friend on purpose.

“So, (Y/N) is another one of your patrons. That’s nice.”

“What? No. Dad, I just told you, (Y/N) has no interest in being redeemed.”

“Oh,” Lucifer looked you up and down disapprovingly. It figured. Even this non-Demon was looking for power in Hell, probably so you would finally be a killer worth bragging about – Honestly, what was the point? All sinners were the same. Greedy, destructive forces who wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left to break.

“Yep, she’s our only permanent resident who wants to help rehabilitate other souls. Isn’t that great? She helps with everything here, and she doesn’t ask for anything in return.”

“That’s not true,” You blushed at Charlie’s praise. “Your daughter is very generous, Sir. She lets me stay here rent-free.”

“And that’s all you want?” Lucifer asked suspiciously.

“Honestly? Yeah.”

Lucifer shook his head but didn’t argue. He didn’t want to know what your real motivations were. It was probably as simple as hoping for regular boons from the Princess of Hell; you were clearly just biding your time. Besides, if you didn’t want to redeem your soul, then you must be just like Alistair, a sadistic monster just waiting to see Demons repeatedly fail in their attempts at redemption.

Now that his curiosity was sated, Lucifer decided that he didn’t want to lay eyes on you again. You weren’t worth his time. Only Charlie was… Well, Charlie and Vaggie, because any woman his daughter loved was practically family to him. He was glad when the tour continued, leaving you behind to catch Nifty who was trying to pull a piece of fabric from Lucifer’s coat, muttering something about the ‘Ultimate bad boy.’

“Okay, I can get you the meeting,” Lucifer agreed, doing what he could to support Charlie’s dreams of saving her people, even though he didn’t think there were any redeeming qualities for any denizen of Hell.

It hurt him to tell Charlie that he wouldn’t be able to go with her to that lofty paradise, having been cast out; how he wished he could protect his daughter from those who carried out God’s will. Still, she never asked him for anything, and if this was what her heart most desired, he would do all in his power to help.

“Will you be okay?” He asked sombrely.

“I’ll be fine,” Charlie assured him, taking hold of his hands.

“That’s my girl.”

For a moment, it looked like Lucifer was done, but he paused, worried that this wasn’t enough to make up for the years he had been absent, leaving Charlie to fend for herself while he shut himself away.

“Is there anything else you need?”

Charlie couldn’t help but worry about her father. What would happen when he went back into isolation? He needed something to focus on, but… What was there for him when all of Hell was his prison?

She couldn’t help thinking about how little Lucifer thought of all the other citizens of Hell. If only he could see that they weren’t as terrible as he thought. Granted, they could be violent, and loud, definitely rambunctious, but these were his people, and he had to see that his gift of Free Will was a good thing, yet, if she said any of this, she was certain Lucifer would only laugh at her or tell her to get real while playfully pinching her cheek. There was no way that Lucifer would leave his home to hang out with any citizen of Hell.

Then it hit her. If Lucifer wouldn’t leave his manor to visit people, then people should be allowed to visit his manor. Or better yet, one person should be chosen to go and live with Lucifer so that he would learn just how good people could be, and Charlie knew just the person for the job.

“Actually, Dad, there is one more thing.”

“Name it,” Lucifer smiled, glad that his daughter wanted to ask things of him, as any normal child should want from their parents.

“I think it would be good for you to socialise, just a little bit.”

“Charlie,” Lucifer’s voice was strained at the thought of going anywhere else in Hell.

“I know,” Charlie reassured him, looking into his eyes; she looked so understanding that he relaxed slightly. Then, she continued in a more upbeat tone, “That’s why I think you should take (Y/N) to live with you, as your maid!”

She pounded her palm decidedly, much like a judge pounding her gavel.

“What? NO!” Lucifer sputtered.

You for your part, had seemingly been shocked into silence, watching the exchange uncertainly while Alistair grinned devilishly at you, and Angel Dust was holding in a snicker. Granted, you could have argued, but Charlie was stubborn, and she always had some kind of wild idea. Whatever she was thinking, you decided that you would go along with it; there was usually a method to her madness after all.

“It’s fine, Dad, (Y/N) doesn’t mind, right (Y/N)?”

You shrugged your shoulders passively, “I guess?”

“See? You should get to know your citizens, Dad. It will be good for you, I promise. They’re not all as bad as you think.”

Lucifer took one hard look at you. Honestly, he wished his daughter had picked the porn star or that psycho maid. You, as a very human-looking Demon, were a vicious reminder of his past mistakes. Still, he had told his daughter he would do anything for her, and he had already promised her a meeting with Heaven, and nothing could possibly be worse than that.

“Alright,” He agreed.

Then, he summoned a portal for you with the flick of his wrist.

“Good luck, kiddo.” He said to Charlie, and upon keeping a safe distance from you, he waited for you to step through the portal.

“Charlie, I’m assuming that you have a good reason for this,” You said before taking a step towards your newly appointed home, “Just call me if you need anything.”

With that, you were gone, followed closely (though not too closely) by Lucifer.

[jobean12-blog]

For the Love of Plants...and You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (plant!dad Bucky AU)

Word Count: 1,229

Summary: You and Bucky go shopping for new plants and he has the best idea.

Author's Note: My lovely friend @sagechanoafterdark shared this wonderful little idea with me and I was so happy to have inspiration for more plant!dad Bucky! YAY! Thanks so much Sage! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by @firefly-graphics thank you sweet Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: it's soft, sweet and fun, spicy and silly, some implied sexy times and Bucky is delish.

*If you want to read more about plant!dad Bucky you can find his other stories on his Masterlist labeled with 'plant!dad Bucky AU'*

“Are you sure you don’t want anything else doll?”

You look up from the current plant in front of you and stare unblinkingly for a moment before bursting into giggles.

Bucky’s arms are full of plants and his handsome face is obscured by various leaves and flowers.

You sift through the flora that hides him and find his blue eyes bright and crinkled at the corners with his wide smile.

“What?” he asks.

“It’s just…you’re so cute.”

His cheeks become tinged with a flush of pink and you lean through the leaves to place a sweet kiss to his lips.

“Thank you for carrying everything. We really need to start getting a cart.”

“Nah doll, then we’ll go home with even more plants. And you don’t have room for more plants. At least this way we are limited to what I can carry.”

“What are you saying Bucky?” you ask with feigned shock.

He’s quiet for a moment and you worry that he thinks you’re serious.

You open your mouth to speak and reassure him you were just teasing but he beats you to it and says, “I’m going to build you new shelves.”

Now it’s your turn to be quiet.

“Doll?” he asks, trying to see you from around the armfuls of plants.

“You want…you want to build me shelves for my plants?”

He finds a free space on the plant stand outside and places a few down so he can actually see you.

“Yeah. Of course. I want you to have all the plants you can fit.”

“I didn’t know you could build things.”

Your voice comes out slightly breathless.

The corner of his mouth lifts into a devious smirk.

“Sounds like you like that I can do that,” he murmurs as he slips his free arm around your waist and tucks you into his side. “I’m pretty good with my hands.”

“Mm,” you hum, laying your flat palm against his chest. “Very good actually.”

He dips his head to capture your lips, lingering with a soft kiss that has your fingers fisting in his shirt.

“Do you have a tool belt?” you ask him when he finally pulls away.

“I do.”

“You should do it shirtless. So, you don’t get too warm.”

“So shirtless with my toolbelt. Anything else?”

You tap your chin playfully.

“Your dark wash jeans. The really fitted ones.”

“Is this some secret fantasy you have?”

You bury your face in his neck and mumble something incoherent.

“What was that?” he chuckles.

“It wasn’t until you said you could build me shelves!” you squeak.

“This is gonna be fun,” he simpers as he releases you to grab the plants again. “Let’s go check out.”

As promised, later that day Bucky shows up at your place in his dark jeans with a tool belt hanging low on his hips.

“Why are you wearing a shirt?” you ask.

He covers his laugh with a cough and grabs your waist, pulling you into his chest.

“I didn’t want to take the train shirtless.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You answer. “Right.”

He laughs. “Right.”

“I know you think this is hilarious, but you don’t understand…”

His expression softens. “What do you mean doll?”

“It means a lot to me that you’d do this, and you support my love of plants.”

“Of course I would. And of course I do. And you know I love plants too.”

“I know, but even if you didn’t I just know you’d do it anyway.”

He brushes his lips lightly across yours, holding your gaze as he whispers, “I would.”

“Can we take this off now?” you ask as your fingers slide down his chest and under the hem of his shirt.

“Sure.”

He kicks the door shut with his booted foot and lifts his arms above his head. You start to peel the shirt from his body, the action deliberate as you watch every inch of his toned stomach come into view.

After staring at the distinct V shape at his hips you focus on the dark trail of hair just under his belly button then practically let out a moan when his abs flex and move as he shimmies.

“This is like porn,” you sigh dreamily.

That makes him laugh and he gets tangled in the sleeves of his tee.

You keep staring, enjoying all the shifting muscles of his torso.

“Little help here doll face.”

“Oh!...sorry Buck!”

You slip the shirt over his head and drop it to the floor, letting your fingertips run along the smooth metal of his left arm.

“There. Perfect.”

He takes you in his arms and spins you around until your back is against the door. Trapping you in place he settles both hands on either side of your head.

“You’re distracting,” he murmurs. “Not sure I can get to work just yet.”

“Me?” you ask incredulously. “Look at you.”

Your finger slips into the waistband of his jeans, and you give him a sharp tug, drawing him closer.

His hips press into your stomach, and you feel the hard length of him. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth and toy with the button of his jeans before running your fingers along the leather of his tool belt.

The muscles in his stomach tense every time your skin touches his and you watch his dark eyelashes flutter against his cheeks with his barely controlled restraint.

His toolbelt drops to the floor with a loud thud and you pull the zipper of his jeans down.

“Doll,” he hisses when your hand slips inside his jeans.

You slide down to your knees, taking his jeans with you.

“Fuck you look so perfect on your knees for me,” he grits out.

You stretch out along the hard wood floor and press yourself against him.

Bucky’s fingers soothingly slide up and down your arm, his eyes closed and his breathing finally even.

“You need to make me a list of all the things you want me to build,” he says.

You laugh as you twirl a strand of his hair between your fingers. “It will be the longest list ever.”

“It better be,” he says, finally opening his eyes and pinning them on you. “I’ll building anything and everything if we can start every project like that.”

You kiss his neck, working your way to his chin and then along his jaw before climbing on top of him and kissing his lips.

“Deal!”

His hands are soft as they reverently trace the curve of your hips and waist. “You know what we still have to do?” he asks.

“What?” you smile.

“Name all the new plants!”

Your smile widens. “WE DO!”

You kiss him again and reluctantly move off him so he can get up. Once you’re both dressed, Bucky sans shirt of course, he starts working on the shelves.

You hold up one of your new plants, Devil’s ivy, and twirl the pot between your fingers, gently fingering the leaves.

“What do you think Buck?” you ask. “How about…Spaghetti!”

He looks up from the wood in his hands and nods with a smile. “That’s a good one, especially for the ivy.”

As soon as he finishes the thought his stomach promptly grumbles, making you both laugh.

“I’m just going to name these last two then I’ll start dinner…how does spaghetti sound?”

“Perfect doll face. It sounds perfect.”

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.2

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Ch Notes: No warnings for this chapter, Krolik=Bunny, Sestra=Sister

Summary: Wanda was sent away on important business, by the time she comes back you're all grown up and a part of the family company. Wanda doesn't come back home empty handed in fact she returns with a brand new wife.

An: Ok someone asked me for Ch.2 early and I had to deliver. Next Ch.3 will be up on Monday. Stay tuned and hope you enjoy.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

True to their word, the Maximoff’s provided you with a roof over your head and protection wherever you went. You never worried about your mother again and you saw your father whenever his schedule permitted. However, your primary residence was with the Maximoff’s. They were just as kind as they had always been.

Dragos and Flora paid for anything you could ever want or need. They paid for your tuition at NYU, though you tried to argue against it. You double majored in software engineering and physics. Without the constant insecurities that your parents piled on you, you were able to reach new academic heights.

Wanda had gone off right before her college graduation, Dragos said she was doing important work internationally. He didn’t know when she would be returning. There was a small part of you that hated that the woman didn’t come to your graduation, but a card from her in the mail was enough to make you smile.

Once you had your degrees you weighed your options. After multiple boring interviews and under stimulating work you finally asked Dragos if there was anything you could do in the family business. Pietro wasn’t thrilled about you wanting to be involved, but once he saw you at work, he knew you’d fit right in.

The crime was fronted by a legitimate business that Dragos owned. Which meant that you got to work out of one the tallest office buildings in New York. Your standing with the family also afforded you a desk pretty high up. When you weren’t hacking into competitors’ systems or running field operations, you did simple accounting for the company. It was easier that way, as the numbers for both the true business and the under-cover business were vetted by you.

“Y/n, come on a delivery with me?” Pietro pops his head into your office space.

“What kind of delivery?”

He smirks, “Special.”

You quickly grab your jacket and follow him out of your office. As you navigate to the bottom floor the two of you make small talk.

“So, when are you going to stop playing around and ask Monica out?”

Pietro rolls his eyes, “When you date someone for more than 2 outings.”

You feign a pained look, “Ouch, that one hurts Piet.”

“The truth often does.”

Once you both are out of the building and into the car your demeanor changes a bit, “So who are these going to?”

“Mr. H.”

You groan, “That guy’s sketchy, I don't like him.”

Pietro laughs, “I’m sure a lot of people feel the same way about us. “

“Whatever,” you mumble, scrolling through your phone.

The rest of the ride is quiet, until you pull up to the drop of location. “So, I’m going in and dropping the stuff off. You’re going to wait for me in the driver's seat.”

“Why the driver’s seat?”

He blinks at you, “In case we need to get away faster, you'll already be in here. Keep the car running, this should be quick.”

While Pietro goes in to handle the business, you let your mind spiral into thoughts about Wanda. You miss her and feel like it has been too long. Dragos said that she ended up staying in Russia for awhile before heading to their home country of Sokovia. Apparently, while he ran the business here, she ran the operations over there.

You weren’t surprised that Wanda was trusted with such an important role, she always had leadership qualities. For a long while you thought you wanted to be just like her. Instead, you realized that the older woman had been someone you were interested in. Wanda had nearly a decade on you in age, but how could you not like her as a young queer girl.

Sometimes you could still feel her hand delicately grazing your torso as she patched up the wounds your mother inflicted. For awhile in the Maximoff’s home everyone treated you as if you would break into a million pieces. Maybe Wanda did too, but it was different with her.

She wasn’t just careful with you because she was scared, you’d break, but she truly believed that you deserved the care. Even when you began training with her, she treated you delicately. You wanted to learn how to protect yourself and she stepped right in and became the perfect teacher. You also began going to the gym with Pietro at least once a week. You weren’t trying to be buff, but just in shape enough to defend yourself if you needed.

Even though your outward appearance changed to be stronger. You felt as though Wanda saw right through that into your deepest insecurities and tended to them accordingly.

Your daydreaming is cut short by Pietro busting out of the warehouse where the drop was supposed to take place, with the goods still in his hand.

“DRIVE! DRIVE! DRIVE!”

He jumps into the passenger seat, and you hit the gas. Pietro is talking to you, but your adrenaline is kicking in. Your fieldwork doesn’t really get this exciting without a debrief. Getaway driver is definitely a new change in speed.

Your eyes focus solely on the road, ignoring what the man is saying as his chest heaves up and down. A quick glance in the rearview mirror tells you that they are following you. While you are curious about what happened, those questions can be answered later. 

Pietro is actually mildly impressed with your driving skills. Your sharp turns and redirections are top notch in his opinion. Though you are doing great the guys are still tailing you.

You think for a moment, trying to remember the nearest parking garage. You realize that it’s behind you and brake hard, you weave through oncoming traffic to try to get to the parking garage.

“Get ready to hop out,” you say to Pietro parking the car. Once you do the blonde starts running on foot and you call after him. He stops in his tracks frantic until he sees you breaking into another car. When you get in you drive normally out of the parking structure and straight back to the office.

“Jesus Christ, Y/n I didn’t know you could drive like that?”

Pietro grabs the wooden box from his lap before walking to the elevator. He wipes his hands on his jeans and proceeds as though it was a just another day.

“So, what the fuck happened?”

He raises an eyebrow, “You weren’t listening in the car?”

“Duh, I was a little preoccupied with the whole driving for my life thing.”

“I guess you'll hear it when I tell Papa then.”

The two of you are definitely headed to the top floor of the building to inform Dragos of what has transpired. Pietro is never one for knocking and simply barges into the man’s office.

“Papa, do you have a- Sestra?”

Pietro’s sentence dies in his throat as he gets a glimpse of his older sister. He wastes no time sitting in the wooden box on a couch nearby and scooping up the redhead in a tight hug. You could hear them exchanging more words in their mother language. It’s an unexpectedly tender moment as Pietro tries to keep things on the light side.

Somewhere in the hug Wanda’s eyes land on you and they widen slightly. She untangles herself from her brother to get a good look at you. She’s older, as expected, but age had been more than kind to her. Wanda looks as elegant as ever, an air of distinguish surrounds her.

The way she looks at you makes you feel like a teenager again. You do your best not to squirm under her gaze. When a smile placed itself on her lips, you feel relief washing over you. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she pulls you in to a big hug.

Her hands rise to hold your face, pulling back just slightly. She wants to get a good look at you. The softness of her hands causes you to blush.

“You’ve grown up on me little krolik.”

She releases the hold, and you speak, “You’ve been gone a long time, Wanda.”

There it is, in your voice for the first time in years; That fragile tone that you had only ever allowed Wanda to hear. You hope it didn't sound as desperate to everyone else in the room and it didn't. But Wanda picked up on it instantly.

“I have, but now I'm back; permanently,” Wanda says, keeping her eyes on you.

“And she brought a friend,” Dragos interjects, and you watch Wanda roll her eyes.

“She’s more than a friend Papa, she’s my wife and she’s sitting right here. I expect you to treat her kindly.”

Wanda is married and to a woman. Your mind scrambles to piece together what had happened in the years that she was gone for this to be the case. It is hard for you to digest what the woman had said. Your breathing becomes a little shallow, but no one takes notice.

Finally, you take notice of the other woman in the room, sitting in the chair next to the one Wanda had just been sitting in. Your mouth dries at the sight of her. The woman is stunning. Her auburn hair is a few shades darker than Wanda’s. She has a button nose, soft pink lips and piercing green eyes. You couldn't be mad at Wanda for marrying such a beautiful woman.

“Sestra, you’re married?” Pietro exclaims, looking between the two women dramatically.

“Yes; Y/n, Pietro, this is my wife, Natasha Romanoff.”

Your eyes linger on the woman even when Dragos claps his hands together to get the attention of the room, “Piet you were saying something important. I see that Mr. H didn't get his package.”

Any further pleasantries would have to wait.

“Papa it was a bad deal. They tried short me on our exchange, so I told them they could either bring me the rest of what they owe, or I’d be walking. They planned to take the package from me, so I ran immediately to the car. Of course they chased after me, but thanks to need for speed over here we got away.”

Dragos pinches the bridge of his nose lightly, “Don’t I always say being back up?”

Pietro answers back, “I took Y/n.”

This causes Natasha to chuckle a bit.

Your eyes narrow at her, “Something funny?”

She doesn’t back down, “Well from the way Wanda described you, you don't necessarily scream back up.”

Your jaw clenches slightly and you steal a quick glance at Wanda, “Wanda hasn’t seen me in over 5 years. I’m not that fragile little kid anymore.”

Dragos nods proudly, “Y/n is the biggest asset we have in this organization. She’s by far the glue that holds this all together and I will not tolerate any disrespect thrown her way.” The final part of his sentence carries a lot of weight to it, it’s a verbal warning.

Wanda clears her throat, “Hammerhead is a loyal customer, why would he try to cheat us?”

“He could have a new dealer,” you speak up. “Someone who might be charging less for similar goods.”

“You think someone is dumb enough to try to undercut us?” Pietro questions.

You speak candidly, “I think that people in this city can be greedy, and greed blinds all good sense.”

Dragos clearly agrees, “We need eyes and ears on the streets listening to anything about dealers that aren't us. I need a meeting with Hammerhead to make sure he’s got that big ugly head of his on straight. Y/n if I can't sell this, I'm going to have see a profit of this quantity somewhere else on the sheets.”

“Let Natasha and I come with you to your meeting Papa. I want you to see what we're capable of.”

“Papa, is this woman going to be joining our group?” Pietro asks.

You turn your attention to Dragos, curious of what the man has to say. There is an unbridled shine in Wanda’s eyes and a small upturn of Natasha’s lip. They seem to think that the man would say yes immediately.

Instead, he heavily sighs, “For now Ms. Romanoff is simply Wanda’s… wife. There is a chance that she’ll be given access to join. However, her involvement isn’t guaranteed. So just to be clear, she’s not going to be sitting in on the meeting.”

Wanda wants to fight back, you can tell, but she refrains. The playfulness of her features dissipates as she responds, “Is she at least allowed to stay and watch them work?”

“Y/n do you mind if Ms. Romanoff shadows you for the rest of the day?” You know what Dragos was actually asking of you. He wants you to vet her.

Your eyes land on the woman, staring at her intensely, “Sure.”

She squirms in her seat which makes you smile a bit.

“Pietro,” Dragos starts.

“Eyes & ears I’ve got it Papa,” he’s out of the door fast, setting the plan in motion.

Dragos presses a small button on his desk, “Kate can you set up a meeting between Hammerhead & I. It needs to be as soon as possible. Make it clear that if I’m kept waiting, there will be extra fees to pay. Ones that can't be bought by money.”

“No problem Mr. Maximoff. Should I have Clint get the car ready?” She responds over the intercom.

“That’ll be great, thank you Kate.”

Now it is Wanda who claps her hands, “So I guess it’s time to get to work. Which mean it’s time to say goodbye to my beautiful wife and my little krolik.”

Natasha stands from her seat and places a gentle kiss on Wanda’s lips. “Be safe,” she murmurs, not quite ready to part from her wife.

“I’ll be fine Nat, it’s just business as usual.”

Something about the two women in the same line of sight together made you feel weird. You had seen beautiful couples before, but you seem to be a little mesmerized by the sight of Natasha and Wanda. For now, you would say that it was just the shock of seeing Wanda after all these years and being blindsided by the news of her marriage.

“Have you changed too much to give me a hug before you go?”

The teasing tone in Wanda’s voice makes you roll your eyes. You walk over to her nonetheless, “I hugged you earlier, you know.”

Wanda doesn’t hesitate to pull you into another hug. “I know, but maybe two is too much for the new Y/n.”

You look up at her, maybe for a second too long, and you can’t help yourself, “Don’t worry, part of me is still your little krolik.”

A slight blush paints over her features as she smiles at you, “Good, keep my wife safe, ok?”

Your eyes cut to Natasha, “Of course, I’ll leave you guys to it.”

You walk out of the office with Wanda’s wife trailing closely behind you.  

“So, are you going to show me what makes you the glue?”

Her words make smile tug on the edge of your lips, “If you’re lucky.”

[daosies]

how they love you

xavier, rafayel ♡ gn!reader

warnings: major xavier and rafayel story spoilers, reader is the protagonist from the game (but gender neutral), rafayel is his own warning (hes a bit of a freak)

notes: im writing this like i understand xavier and rafayels lore (i dont. all i did was read up on reddit and the wiki before going straight off the dome.)

"xavier," jeremiah calls incredulously, "you're staring."

"no, i'm not," xavier lies straight through his teeth. his periwinkle eyes trail after you like they're bound to you, held together by a red string that knots at his irises.

(maybe they are.)

xavier blinks, resting for but a moment before his gaze returns. it'll always return—xavier thinks he does a lot of that. return.

"at least try to pretend," jeremiah remarks, tender expression betraying his incredulous tone. despite the fact that xavier is loitering in philo, posing a hazard to the nearby flora with his intense aura, jeremiah can't bring himself to say anything more.

xavier is in love—but that's not right, jeremiah thinks. xavier has always been in love. he loved you back in philos, in all your incarnations and the ones thereafter. xavier loved you when you sparred against him, when you rose to the throne, and even when you suffered and while everyone was against you, he loved you then, too.

jeremiah supposes that it's only right that xavier loves you now. because xavier loves with his whole being, it's not just his eyes that follow after you, but rather, his existence.

xavier follows you despite the era, traveling centuries back and staying just to catch a glimpse of you, to glimmer, ever so slightly, in your incomparable radiance.

we could go back, jeremiah thinks, conjuring up the possibility despite his nerves telling him not to. we could go back to philos. the core within your heart holds infinite possibilities.

if xavier wanted to, he could obtain your aether core, and that would be enough to return to the future—where you still exist, sure, but more importantly (to jeremiah, at least), where philos exists.

("we will not kill them," xavier muttered darkly, "do not bring this topic up again. i will find another solution.")

(and that was where jeremiah went wrong. because to xavier, philos is nothing. you have always been the whole, vast universe. you are the most important thing in this life, and the many more thereafter; and to xavier, no future matters except the one you exist in now.)

so, he did. he tried, at least. xavier scoured the ruined earth for protocores that could mimic the same capabilities of yours. he lived through centuries on earth, fighting for existence despite knowing that the answer lied, as it always has been, in you.

when your incarnation appeared, jeremiah never once doubted xavier's judgement. while the other backtrackers under xavier's command went mad, trying to harvest your aether core to return to philos, xavier fought—but more than that, actually. xavier loved.

xavier loved, no, loves, so fervently, so profoundly, that he killed the backtrackers who had tried to harm you. you are not the same incarnation that he loved back in philos, but the fact that it's you is enough for xavier to rid all doubts.

and jeremiah thinks that, despite xavier's desperate intent to return back to philos, he wouldn't mind living here on earth with you now. jeremiah has noticed that the fervent expression his captain once wore has dwindled into something more mellow, into something tender.

something like the looks he'd send to you from afar, chasing you across school rooftops and coexisting in between the clashing of blades—xavier loves.

and love has made him content. and love has made him present, when he never was before. when all he could do, prior to your incarnation's existence, was think of returning to philos.

(how could he return to philos when you're right here?)

"[name]," jeremiah calls, feigning ignorance to the way xavier glares at him, the captain's tender expression suddenly dissipating into nothingness. ouch, jeremiah thinks, mouthing to xavier, "you don't have to make it that obvious you don't like me."

"yeah?" you reply, glancing up from the foliage. xavier reaches over the many shelves of flora—much to jeremiah's dismay—before parting them to get a good look at your face. xavier smiles. jeremiah's jaw drops.

"did you find something you liked? you said you had to get a bouquet for a friend, right?" jeremiah asks, egging xavier on.

"a friend?" xavier echoes, not even bothering to look at the florista behind him.

"oh, yeah! i'm choosing a bouquet for this one guy—" jeremiah sees the way xavier's expression goes blank, lips thinning into a line whilst his periwinkle eyes, somehow, manage to retain their enamored look.

ah, jeremiah realizes, it's 'cause captain is still looking at them. of course it is—why did he expect any other reason?

although xavier remains silent, jeremiah knows that the only thing running through the captain's mind is: guy, guy, guy?!

"a guy?" jeremiah queries, deciding to put xavier out of his misery.

"yeah. he worked with my grandma when she was younger, but i have to deliver it through one of my friends because he lives in the arctic..."

"that means he's old," jeremiah whispers, loud enough for only xavier to hear. the captain glances away.

at least try to hide that look of relief, jeremiah thinks incredulously. still, it's fun to see xavier like this: with his tense brows easing up, his thinned lips turning slightly upwards. when xavier loves, he does it with his whole being.

it's in the way he slips in between the aisles of flora in order to be next to you. in the way he carries the vases of flowers for you despite knowing you're perfectly capable of doing so yourself.

when xavier loves, it's evident in the way his cold, indigo eyes melt into hues made of periwinkle. it's in the way his touch, hardened by years of training, melts into something as light as a feather. it grazes past your face, brushing a stray leaf away.

"how much will it be, jeremiah?" you ask, preparing your coin pouch. jeremiah feels xavier's glare piercing his skin.

i know, i know! is all jeremiah thinks. "for free. don't worry about it!"

"huh? that can't be right... these are a lot of flowers, jeremiah."

"it's okay, [name]," xavier interjects, resting a hand over yours to prevent you from getting your money. "he owes me a favor, and i never buy flowers. so it's best used for your bouquet."

again, xavier lies fluidly through his teeth.

"are you sure...? you could buy a couple flowers, xavier! you know, to decorate your room?"

xavier shakes his head. "i'd forget to water them, probably."

liar, jeremiah thinks. for his own safety, he opts to keep his mouth shut, observing the situation with a suppressed smile.

xavier can't even be bothered to hide his infatuation—when he does so much as look at you, his world comes to a halt, his attention fixated wholly on you when usually it drifts off into wonderland.

when he does so much as hear you, or perceive you, or exist with you, xavier shrinks into nothing, permeating wholly into your skin, melting into your bones and becoming a part of you.

forget his title as captain, or lumiere, or crown prince—xavier becomes yours. and that's all he needs to be.

somehow, jeremiah thinks that xavier is more than just a lover.

he's love itself.

rafayel taps his foot impatiently. with his arms crossed, his gaze darts back and forth between the clock and the door, brows furrowing once he realizes you're nowhere to be seen.

"ugh, that bodyguard!" he cries to no one. "always making me wait for this and that.... puh-lease, like i care!"

rafayel turns around and starts heading into the art museum, lips curled into a pout whilst he glances occasionally over his shoulder. eventually, he stops, still trying to discreetly scope out the premises.

they're still not here?! is all he thinks, reaching for his phone with newfound passion. rafayel tries calling you a couple times, somehow getting more and more offended when you don't pick up.

he then resorts to spamming your texts, his phone flailing around in his hands from the onslaught of his madness.

"you think this is just a game, huh?!" rafayel texts. "fine, it is! whatever! not like i care!!!!"

when you don't respond, he blinks owlishly in disbelief, staring at the screen with his mouth hanging agape.

no way they ignored me! rafayel thinks, somehow even more offended than before.

but the irritation nestled in his stomach morphs into worry, and the worry contorts into yearning. oh, rafayel thinks, staring at your contact name for far longer than he'd like to admit. what if something happened to them?

rafayel's imagination eggs his yearning further. what if you're waiting for him somewhere—with nothing but him on your mind, of course—tears spilling from your eyes while crying his name? what if you're injured, clutching your wound whilst thinking of him—and his killer looks—wishing you could see him right now?

oh. rafayel's imagination eggs his yearning further. oh, what if they're injured? he thinks, his fingers beginning to glide all across his phone's keyboard, spamming you like a madman whose lost all sense of reason.

"you don't have to show up," he starts texting, but quickly deletes that sentence. "text me when you see this," he manages to send, hand coming up to fiddle with some stray strands of his wisteria hair.

he feels his heart thrash against his chest like a fish out of water, his skin beginning to feel stuffy while he grasps at his shirt, crumpling the pearl fabric under his hands. what if you're hurt? what if something happened to you? what if you're leaving, and he isn't able to catch up?

rafayel hates waiting. he turns around, heading toward the exit of the museum, ignoring the looks of confusion from the people who just watched him enter and clutch his head manically.

again, rafayel's imagination runs wild, feeding him delusions and convincing him that he's your knight in shining armor, saving you from the clutches of despair. obviously, after he saves you—with his killer looks and killer moves—you're going to grovel at his feet and beg for forgiveness, hoping that he'll spare you so much as a glance for your impudence.

he tries to ignore the way his ribs begin to constrict, the way his chest begins to ignite with agonizing pain. not again, is all he thinks, rushing out of the museum. not again.

rafayel loves you. sometimes, he hates to admit it. sometimes, he knows it's fact. rafayel loves you—how could he not? you are bound to him, no, rather, he is bound to you.

rafayel is bound to you, yet even then, he struggles to keep up. he follows you hopelessly into every incarnation, trailing after your existence like a drowning man at sea, gasping for air and a wisp of your presence. he had you, once. and what a twisted thing love is, to give him so much hope and radiance, that he can't possibly fathom to live without it now.

rafayel is hooked on you, drinking you in greedily with his eyes, searching for you desperately amidst the tides. rafayel is hooked on you, he's left in a constant state of wanting more, more, more, even though you don't feel the same. even though you're perfectly okay with leaving him, oblivious to the effect you have.

you have carved rafayel's being, forcing his hands to be a perfect fit with yours, forcing his eyes to only ever hold you. you've dismembered rafayel's bones, taking apart the shafts and forcing yourself in, your existence running through his marrow, your existence running through his veins.

sometimes, rafayel hates what you've done to him. he hates how he's reduced to a spectator in your presence, the way he's destined to love you despite all you've done to him.

rafayel hates the way you go around, saving everyone, saving everything, even though he was the first. he was your first victim, your first lover, your first everything.

and you've forgotten. and you've forgotten. how could you? sometimes, rafayel envies you. he wishes he could be as blissfully ignorant as you, he wishes he could rendezvous around the world, unaware of what he's done before.

(how could he? how could he ever forget you? how could rafayel ever be anything more than what you've made him?)

he laughs bitterly to himself, running a hand through his hair when your caller id shows up on his phone. rafayel half-considers letting you go to his voicemail, but oh, the way his heart constricts, the way his hands instinctively move to answer.

rafayel isn't like you—he has a heart, first of all—he's made of memories, made of century-old pacts and vows that have haunted him across lifetimes.

rafayel isn't like you, because, first and foremost, he loves. he loves you. he loves you! and oh, how could he not? how could he ever forget what you've done for him? how could he ever forget what you've done to him?

(and yet, he loves you anyway. rafayel loves you, despite the way you betrayed him, despite the way you forgot. rafayel loves you, not only because he was made to love you, but because it's you. does he need any other reason?)

just before your call gets forwarded to voicemail, rafayel picks up. he swallows thickly, letting his yearning drip down his throat, permeating into his organs whilst he says, dreading the way his voice cracks, ever so slightly, "ahem. what took you so long, huh?!"

your voice glitches on the other end. rafayel feels heat rush to the tips of his ears, feeling the way you sound so close to him. he presses the phone closer to his head.

"sorry, rafayel! i was busy,"—rafayel scoffs at this, so is he, you're not special—"but i'm coming right now! just wait for me, okay?"

"ugh! no, i don't wanna! i'm leaving! did you hear that? i'm," rafayel trails off, pausing for extra emphasis (hoping that you'd care enough to interrupt him), "i'm leaaavvii—"

you hang up. rafayel gasps, staring at the end screen with a flabbergasted look.

"no way! ugh! nobody respects me around here! making me wait... who do they think i am? a waiter? the waiter?" rafayel mutters incredulously to himself, sending glares towards anyone who eyes him weirdly.

still, he remains put, crossing his arms with a pronounced frown whilst sunset eyes scan the area, looking for your familiar motorbike.

rafayel waits. begrudgingly.

then again, he supposes he does a lot of that when it comes to you.

he opens your contact one more time. "some bodyguard you are!!!" he texts. "i could be dying right now and you still wouldn't pull up, huh?!?!"

"i'm dying! i'm dying! heeeelllooo?! i'm dying!" he spams. the familiar whirring of a motorbike appears, and rafayel glances up from his phone, horizon eyes growing wide.

rafayel hates the effect you have on him, the way your sudden appearance can bring tsunamis to a lull, the way your sudden appearance makes an utter fool of him.

still, rafayel lets you get away with it.

(you've gotten away with a lot of things.)

"raf!" you call. "quit spamming me!"

when you take your helmet off, rafayel's breath hitches. you steal the oxygen from his lungs, a mere wisp of your existence making the world tumble.

"hmph!" he crosses his arms, hoping you don't see the way his ears bloom a violent red. "don't tell me what to do! do you know how long it's been?!"

"ten minutes?" you reply, unamused. rafayel glares at you.

too long, he thinks, eyes tracing over the bridge of your nose and the curl of your lips. the artist instinct with him begins to flare—he wants to paint, he wants to devote himself to you all over again, drawing tirelessly into the night.

"no. eight-hundred years, you idiot!"

you roll your eyes. "what an exaggeration."

rafayel huffs. "puh-lease! i just say it as it is!"

you start heading towards the museum, and rafayel scrambles to catch up, his throat beginning to close. his heart—whatever's left of it, at least—lurching forward.

it chases you. it chases you! it always, always chases you.

into every life, into every eon. rafayel chases you, desperate and made of memories, hanging onto the depths of your soul, forfeiting the ocean and the tide and all that ever mattered.

then again, rafayel supposes that none of it matters now. you're here.

and even if you don't remember, rafayel will love you anyway.

(how could he not?)

[slipperzipper]

Heimdall x f!Reader (Smut!)

| Pairing: Heimdall x Reader

| Contents: Massive warning for those who do not like sexual content because this oneshot contains smut smut smut! Sex pollen, Masturbation, Grinding, afab reader, p in v, creampie, rough sex, and orgasms, let me know if I need to add other things to this as well!

| wrds: 3.2k

| Disclaimer!: Massive warning for those who do not like sexual content because this oneshot contains smut smut smut! minor Grammar and Spelling mistakes so apologies, Kind of weird start. also does anyone else still like heimdall? I know its been a year since I initially posted my first oneshot of this asshole. I'm deciding to repost this on tumblr since I know some people still like this man lol

“I’m pretty sure a legless donkey could move faster than you.” 

Heimdall’s voice called out, the two of you had been walking through the wild jungles of Vanaheim. So far, if it had not been for Heimdall’s insults and petty comments, it was going well. The flora constantly grabbing at your ankles and causing you to stumble slightly each time you continued or turned into a new direction, but that was the least of your worries. 

The reason why you were in Vanaheim in the first place was for the All-father, or Odin for short. 

According to Odin, there was a lost relic in Vanaheim that he desired desperately. Apparently so desperately that he forced Heimdall to bring you with him for extra help. Unfortunately you couldn’t exactly say no since you wanted to look good in front of the All-father, accepting the offer with a feigned smile. You were his guest afterall.

“I’d move faster if it wasn’t for your constant insults!” You laughed, you were a couple dozen feet behind him, he just had to lead the way since you were ‘too incompetent’ to do so. Your eyes seemed to be lost in the environment, its natural beauty and color was just a sight to behold.

You were almost jealous of the Vanir that they get to live in such a beautiful realm, but you were soon kicked out of your thoughts as the sound of the golden god yelping hit your ears. That caused you to walk a bit faster, before turning into a jog, then into a sprint in order to find him. You knew he couldn’t be hurt by a person or animal, but plant life? Can’t exactly read a plant’s mind if there’s no mind to read. Even when Heimdall was a dick, you knew Odin wouldn’t exactly be happy if his most loyal son died to some miniscule threat.

But that isn’t what you saw when you found him. There was a small red-pink plant next to him releasing a dusty spore, his arm covering his eyes before backing up and falling on his backside. You grabbed him from under his shoulders and dragged him out, his grumbles consisted of the plant and how he hadn’t needed the help.

“Heimdall! Are you okay?” You asked, your hands propping on your knees as you looked down on him. He groaned at this strange feeling bubbling in his chest. “Yes- yes I am fine.” Heimdall reassured before pushing himself up to stand, trembling slightly but ultimately walking it off.

Why was he acting like this? He was being complacent and hadn’t insulted you yet for asking if he was okay. This was out of character for him, even his tone was out of character, and you hadn’t failed to notice. “Heimdall, are you actually okay?” Your voice asked again right as you walked in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Yes, Of course I am fine.” Heimdall’s voice shook a little, catching you off guard since his dialect indicates that he’s the biggest and best bitch in the world. “Are you sure ?” You ask yet again, he brushed off the comment before continuing. 

“We must find Gulltoppr before we return to Asgard-” Heimdall’s voice trembled worse as he stumbled towards a tree. His hand gripped into the tree's vines as a way to capture himself from completely falling. A strangled grunt rippled through the air and made you stop in your steps towards the god. 

He sank to his knees while he had a full body reaction to the sensations around him. Heimdall was feeling all sorts of sensitive, even when he had moved his hands to catch himself, they were all tingly. 

When he heard your muddled voice call out to him for the umpteenth time, his heart skipped a beat when his brain processed your sweet words. Heimdall! What’s happening to you- Answer me! Your hands grabbed at his tunic and turned him around to see a sight to truly behold:

The Scion of the Aesir was sitting on his knees, in such a seductive and submissive pose that rattled your brain. His usual cockiness was wiped from his face and was instead replaced with bright red blush and with quite the pleading pout settling on his lip. His hands now finding purchase on gripping your clothes, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was grabbing. 

“H-Hey man, can you stand-” How he hated how your voice sounded. How it sounded like it was coated in the sweetest honey in of all the nine realms, he was easily entranced by it. From your point of view he looked hypnotized, absolutely lost in something.

He groaned when he felt the back of your hand touch his forehead, checking if he was possibly burning up from the plant’s spores. You weren’t technically wrong with that assumption because his entire body was emanating warmth, you could easily feel it when you planted your hands on his shoulders after he let out that little noise. 

“(Y/N).. please I-” He cut himself off with a pant and a down turned head tilt. “I need you.” 

He knew he would have some form of regret after this if he were rejected, whether that in your head that he was a little submissive slut or that he was so weak he got caught off guard by a plant of all things. He didn’t exactly appreciate the circumstances that led up to him on his knees. But he would soon know what you thought of this situation anyway. 

He brought his head back up to stare directly into your eyes, his bright purple ones held lust and need with parted lips. Speaking of his lips, they seemed a little bit more plump than what they normally were. You hated the fact that you knew exactly how his lips looked, from the quick snags you got when he wasn’t looking that you didn’t think much of until now. 

Shit! You just remembered he could probably read your thoughts right now. You got your answer when his lips tugged into a small crinkled-eyed smile before bringing you down by the grip he had on your clothes. His arms sliding around you to bring you into a tight hug when his mouth planted itself next to your ear.

“Please- Can I- Please may I have you?” His voice tickled your senses and caused shivers to go down your spine. It was just so desperate that you felt like you couldn’t say no. He moved himself from the side of your head only to look into your eyes again, just to read what little thoughts you had. Hues of colors were all he could see at the moment before the thought of him actually letting him have you in a jungle of all places, it was absolutely strange to you. But the look on your face told a different story. 

You would be a liar if you hadn’t at least one thought about what he looked like under all those layers, and that was all Heimdall needed to know before his hands found themselves hugging your hips instead. 

Forcing your body to grind down onto his newfound bulge. A moan erupted from his lips at the new found sensation adding onto his sensitivity. “Fu-Fuck..” Heimdall cursed while he continued to rub your clothed sex against him. The grip on your hips were harsh and it was like he was clinging for dear life, they were definitely going to bruise tomorrow.

“H-Heimdall!” You whimpered out when he grinded particularly too hard, the noise sounding like a siren calling sailors to shore. It was such a hypnotizing sound that he never wanted to stop hearing. The tingly sensation from the mutual rubbing was ever present in making his dick even harder.

“Heimdall!” You cried out his name once more. This time it actually captured his attention instead of adding to his sexual experience. He stilled his ministrations before retraining his eyes back onto yours, only to find them averted as he so desperately tried to read your thoughts.

“Are you sure of this? In the middle of a jungle..?” You barely whispered, but with his enhanced sense he could hear it as clear as day. He was reminded of his body’s blessing and curse that came from the plant’s spore when his body had moved against you by accident, a pathetic whimper erupted from the Herald of Ragnarok.

 

Your lips tugged into a small smile, you moved yourself against him just to tease him. Your shyness earlier muffled when Heimdall grinded against you once more, his lip quivering slightly as his gruff hands desperately grabbed and released your hips repeatedly. 

“Gah-! (Y/N)!” Heimdall cried out as his eyelids fluttered, his body jerking and his clothed pelvis flushing against yours. Forcing you to grind against him once more. He had panted heavily now, making you realize that he came in his pants. 

Your eyes widened when that piece of information dawned on you, you made the golden god himself come in his pants! You knew Heimdall wasn’t himself right now. He was high off his mind and you just made him come in his pants. Even when he technically consented, it still felt wrong. 

“Heimdall- I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-” You started to apologize before a weak hand planted itself on your mouth. “Just- Just stop talking.” The aforementioned god spoke with a harsh tone, you would lie to yourself if you said you didn’t feel a little hurt at his words. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you actually did quite the opposite.” His voice hinted. He brought his pelvis back to flush against your sex, you could feel your own wetness against him. You could feel him and how hard he was once more. He was hard again already?! 

“Yes. Yes I am.” Heimdall scoffed when he read your mind before a groan had caught him to keep him in check, how he was the one who was affected rather than you who was just as ruined as him but from natural causes. “You don’t mind helping me out, do you ?” He coyly asked with a head tilt just to further tease you. 

Heimdall had scooted you off of his lap so that he could stand and release the ache in his pants. Unfastening his belt and letting both his kilt and his pants hit the ground.You could only watch with a glimmer of shock, awe, and lust as his belt piles with the other clothes.  His cock was dripped in his own come, standing at attention with an angry red tip. He was also nicely trimmed and looked groomed, showing how well-kept he was. “After all, you did cause this.” Heimdall putting the blame on you was such an absurd claim, yet you couldn’t help but agree.

Heimdall couldn’t help but sigh when he did show himself, he felt so much better after letting his pants drop. But he also wouldn’t lie to himself when he thought about what you looked like underneath all those layers you wear. Coming back to you (who was still on the ground), he had grabbed the waistband of your pants, along with your undergarments, before pushing them to your ankles. Your lower half is on full display without any distractions.

It left him breathless, to actually see you. He soon shoved your upper half joined your legs on the ground, the harsh ground being familiar to you from the times when you sparred with the man. 

His fingers ran themselves through your folds, catching you off guard, causing you to squeak in surprise. You were wet, undeniably so, and Heimdall liked that. Your legs tried to crumple together but Heimdall prevented that with his polished hands 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, You really thought?” He panted out while he scooted close to you, basically hovering over you. You hadn’t really noticed until now but the atmosphere of Vanaheim really made Heimdall’s appearance glow, he was truly handsome. 

He felt particularly nice in his sexual suffering for some odd reason, his fingers feeling your pussy up in ways that you liked. You cried out when he swiped small circles on your clit, holy Hel, the touches were electrifying. It wasn’t long before Heimdall lined himself up with your hole. Giving you one last look, one of pent up lust and desire and need. His cheeks are a bright red color that paired so well with his fuschia eyes. He slipped himself in.

The warm feeling of your cunt caused him to loudly whine. Even when it was just the tip, it was just the most perfect sensation. It was like a drug implemented in his veins and he couldn’t get enough of it. Lifting your legs so that they would be planted on his shoulders as he drew himself closer, helplessly hung there while he drove his cock into you slowly.

You couldn’t help but whimper and grip the ground, the dirt digging into your nails, below as he inched himself in further and further. He eventually bottomed out, his pelvis meeting yours in a lustful stance. He had just sat there, letting you feel used to his size, it was nice of him to do so in this state when you originally thought he would just fuck into your un-prepared cunt.

But that was soon the reality when he brought his hips back and then slammed into your walls again. A howl crawled out of you when Heimdall repeated his action. Then the harsh repetition began. The pain soon washed away as your body started to get used to it. Your velvety colored walls were gripping him like a vice, and he couldn’t be any more happier. His cock fitting into your body like the perfect puzzle piece, as if you were made to be fucked by him.

Heimdall was thankful for that plant now, rather than being annoyed like he was previously, he was now glad that he could fuck your pussy into oblivion.

You couldn’t help the babbling noises of pleasure that escaped and obscured the natural sounds of Vanaheim’s jungles and you absolutely hoped that no one else was strolling nearby. You’d probably die from embarrassment if someone did, but that didn’t seem to matter at all as Heimdall slammed into you. 

He knew he was going to come. He knew you were too based on your thoughts on how you could barely hang on when he kept hitting that part inside you that made you see stars. His nails digging into your skin in small crescents, if he had dug any further he would have definitely drawn blood.

A few more harsh thrusts and you were done, your pussy contracting around his cock as you came. A loud mewl echoed through Vanaheim. Shortly after, you felt his hot load stain your body, a warm feeling spreading from inside.  

Heimdall’s hips jerked while he trudged through, trying to get the most out of his intense orgasm. Pressing himself as deep as he could from this angle, spilling his cum into you. The god was staring into your eyes the whole time, it was like an explosion that entered your mind. It was an array of bright colors that he had the fortune to see. His thighs trembled dangerously as he caressed yours. 

You couldn’t help but be breathless. You haven’t had an orgasm like that since.. You couldn’t even remember. Your thighs shook with intensity even after he fucked you through your orgasm. Heimdall withdrew from your pussy with a disgusting squelching sound and sighed heavenly.   

But that wasn’t it. He wasn’t done and he quickly recovered and developed a boner in the matter of moments even after the previous two, how the Hel was the plant’s spore still taking effect?! 

“One more, please , just one more.”

Heimdall spoke while a hand reached your face, grasping it uncharacteristically gently, and had your cunt gripping at nothing. You nodded wordlessly before being caught off guard by being flipped to your hands and knees, your ass presenting just for the God of Foresight to behold. 

Behold he did, his hands now moving your pussy to see the absolute mess he had made. He could feel his balls aching in preparation of stuffing your slit once more. Your head tilted at its side, somewhat being able to see what was behind you, only to be pushed down with a harsh shove and his dick slamming into your hole. 

A whorish mewl was drawn out. Loving how full you felt, you pressed your ass against his hips. Bottoming out once more before slamming his dick back in. The wet sounds of sex rung through your fucked mind. Your thighs slapped against Heimdall’s, he couldn’t help but enjoy it even more while your plush thighs rippled with each clap. You could barely think now, only processing the big cock inside your now abused cunt sliding back and forth at a pace you couldn’t fathom. You could only drool, rest your head on your hands, and wait to come for the second time. You did, you shook as it took place.

As your orgasm continued, you realized Heimdall was still going. 

You felt your clit get touched and you instinctively hissed, you were feeling just as oversensitive as Heimdall. The only difference being that he was powering through it, you felt like you were about to scream. 

"Just endure. You can give me one more just like you’re giving me mine.” Heimdall reassured, swiping your clit in a softer, less lustrous and more kinder than before hand, and you couldn’t help but let out a choked whine. 

He knew you came again when you convulsed and sunk slowly again. He looked into your eyes again and saw the previous show from before but it was just a bit dimmer and blunt, and he couldn’t help but enjoy it even more.  Heimdall came once more inside, quickly placing you into a mating press, the ground below you dirtying your arms and knees. The hot feeling adding onto the sexual experience. He stilled while his come squirted for the third time this session and he wouldn’t lie if this wasn’t one of the greatest times he’s fucked before.

After waiting some time, He pulled out. Watching the slimy line of his own jizz disconnect from the tunnel of shared seed mixing together, but seeing some of it drip down onto the ground prompted him to slide his fingers inside, shoving it back in farther just for you to savor it. You gave a weak whine at the action, but it's not like you can do anything about it. 

“I’ll call for Gulltoppr, just- stay here.” Heimdall stated, just beforehand he had helped you back into your pants and sat you against the very tree he fell upon. Strands of your hair sprawled from your hairline, he brushed some of said strands past and back into your hair to make it look more presentable. He himself was in his own clothes as he stood

He soon took off to look for his beloved pet, you couldn’t help but notice the stumble he had every few steps.

[littlejuicebox]

Highharvestide Day

(Astarion x Female Reader)

-----

This is the fluffy twin to my other mostly-smut piece An Early Highharvestide Feast. Setting: Several in-game spoiler warnings, 4 years after BG3, "good" ending, Unascended Astarion x Cleric Reader Notes: Took a break from my WrenxAstarion fic to write this Thanksgiving-themed 2-part story. I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving surrounded by friends and loved ones and all the warmth and comfort of love and life. And as always, I love to see comments about what you liked in the story, it inspires me for other fics! And if you like my writing, please check out my passion project: WrenxAstarion. Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 3K

-----

You are a ball of nerves as you place the final touches on the table settings. It’s such a silly thing, you think to yourself. These people have seen you with crimson drops of blood splattered across your face and broken bones poking out of your flesh; they’ve watched you violently behead a Drow and smelled your musk after a week without a bath. And yet, here you are, meticulously straightening the cutlery, hoping to impress your merry band of misfits. Not that any of them care, and you know it, but you cannot help yourself. You want to give them the best, just like you always have.

The staff are fluttering about the dining hall, placing vases around the room according to your exacting instructions. You smile at the containers filled with blooms from your own garden, the very same arrangements you’d been working on the night prior before you were interrupted by your husband and more... strenuous activities. You’d fallen behind schedule from his distraction and had to enlist the help of the staff to finish the arrangements off earlier today, which Astarion had considered a win for his side in your ongoing fight over trying to remain humble (you) vs. taking what you deserve (him). Absently, you thought that the arrangements weren’t quite as perfect as they would have been if you’d done them yourself... but the small sacrifice had been worth it, in the end.

Astarion saunters through the heavy oak doors of your dining hall, Scratch in tow. The dog was practically your husband’s shadow, nearly glued to his thigh at all times, and as much as the vampire pretended to be annoyed, you noticed even now that his hand was absently brushing against Scratch’s ear as the pair headed toward their favorite woman in all of Faerun. He is carrying an ornately wrapped package in the crook of his arm as he meanders to your side, eyebrow cocked slightly as he examines the room. “Darling, everyone will arrive within the hour, it’s time for you to dress.”

Your eyes gloss over the tables one more time, checking for any final imperfections, before you turn to greet your husband with a kiss on his cheek. “Yes, my love… and what is that you’re holding?”

Astarion chuckles, glancing down at the bundle in his arm, feigning nonchalance. “What dear, this beautiful package? Oh… nothing, really. Just a small Highharvesthide gift for my beautiful hostess.”

He turns the package over to you with a chaste peck to your lips, and you shake your head in amusement at the rakish man. The silver-haired elf tries to hide his anticipation and anxiety by gripping softly at the scruff around Scratch’s neck, but you can feel him eyeing your face for signs of a reaction.

It’s become commonplace that Astarion brings you a present for nearly every significant occasion; spoiling you with any number of ostentatious things you wouldn't dare to purchase yourself seemed to be his love language. For your first anniversary, he’d filled the bedroom to the brim with countless rare, night blooming plants for your garden. You two had made love surrounded by a canopy of flora and the sweet aroma of flowers, and he'd asked the staff to plant all of them on the grounds the following day. It had been a beautiful gesture, and marked the start of your ongoing infatuation with your garden.

But you do know how long your husband mulls these gifts over in his head before finalizing his decision. The mere suggestion that you are not thrilled by his selection would crush Astarion's sensitive heart; he quite literally revolved his existence around you in so many ways. You are easily pleased, of course, by any gift from your spouse… but you are always sure to adamantly express the feeling to your love, less he get the wrong impression.

You place the gift on the table and unwrap it to reveal a beautiful, mulberry-colored gown. The dress is made from velvet, and the neckline drops into a sharp V. Delicate gold embroidery follows the neckline down to the center of the gown, trailing to the hem; the same pattern is echoed along the cuffs and up the sleeves of the piece. Atop the dress sits a dainty golden circlet, the metal fashioned to look like vines, tiny garnet gems positioned in a setting reminiscent of flower petals, the jewels appearing framed as the flower pistils. It’s all breathtakingly ornate, and you gasp in a mixture of surprise and delight as your fingers run along the golden thread.

“What do you think?” Astarion asks, head cocked to the side as he watches your reaction. You can sense the smidge of trepidation in his tone as he tries to hide it from you.

“It’s absolutely perfect, my love.” You turn and beam at him, watching as the subtle signs of tension ease from his jaw and eyes. “Thank you, truly. I don't think I could've envisioned a more perfect gown for tonight. I am meant to wear it tonight, aren't I, my Star?”

“Well, I was so hoping you would, my dear.” The vampire responds, all fangs and flirtations as he closes the few inches of distance between your bodies and wraps his arm around your waist, planting a smattering of featherlight kisses below your ear before whispering. “It will give me such a delectable view of your collarbone all night… and I might need the distraction when the wizard starts prattling on about Tara for the millionth time.”

You laugh and roll your eyes at your husband before grabbing his hand in yours and squeezing. “It's really a gorgeous ensemble. You've outdone yourself, once again. Now let’s go and get ready… I can hardly wait to see everyone.”

-----

You are dressed in your new gown and circlet, Astarion standing just behind you as you two ready yourselves by the front entrance. His doublet is a golden tone, highlighting the embroidered details in your own gown; his chest serving as your background. Even though it goes unsaid, you know the decision on his part was intentional; Astarion's keen vermillion eyes never miss a detail. You had sneakily designed something for your husband, which he’d been given as your both dressed. You knew full well that he’d had a gift planned for weeks and you would never dare to be the one empty-handed; he’d received a beautiful set of cufflinks in the shape of your initials, made from solid gold. The vampire fiddles with his gift as he waits, glancing down every so often to admire the gesture with a small smile and significant affection.

The Duke is the first to arrive, pulled in a horse drawn carriage with several guards and a beautiful half-elven woman by his side — his betrothed, Euphemia Gauthier. You curtsy to Wyll before he takes your hand and laughs. “Such formality from an old friend?”

He wraps you into a hug before moving to Astarion and clapping a friendly palm upon the man’s back. “I trust you two remember my beautiful flower, Euphemia?”

Euphemia smiles as you both turn to her and offer your greetings. You know her to be from old noble blood. She is undeniably graceful, well-spoken, and kind. By all accounts, she is Wyll’s perfect match. Her mega-watt smile turns in your direction, and she takes your hand in hers as she addresses you. “Lady Acunin, have you given further thought about my betrothed’s offer? As you know, Counsellor Atherwinde will be retiring next year, and my darling Wyll is growing anxious to have you take the spot.”

You feel Astarion’s eyes bore into you as a flush spreads across your cheeks. You hadn’t mentioned the offer to him, since you were still mulling it over in your own mind. It came with several obligations and the unfortunate need to step further into the public eye. There would be influence and the ability to advance so many of your political interests, sure. But was it worth the cost? The vampire's fingers gripped into your waist for just a moment, a silent signal to you that he would not be letting the matter rest.

You aim to say something, but Astarion cuts in, speaking towards the half-elf woman; the slightest pitch in his tone, however, lets you know every word is directed to you. “Lady Gauthier, I am sure my beautiful wife is giving the offer the upmost consideration. Who better to fill the position than the woman that saved us all from becoming mindflayers… I can’t think of a single soul more fit in all of Faerun. And I am certain that Duke Ravengard and Lady Ancunin would be aligned. It sounds like an excellent opportunity and one that would be quite difficult to pass up.”

Wyll is positively beaming at this response, practically taking Astarion’s words as a guarantee of acceptance. “Enough of this political talk for the evening. We will have many more nights to discuss… but for today, let’s enjoy the company of old friends.”

-----

Everyone else arrived quickly after Duke and soon-to-be Duchess Ravengard. Gale by teleportation circle, Lae’zel and Shadowheart together on horseback, Karlach carrying a barrel of cheap booze that she unceremoniously placed in the center of the dining room (to Astarion’s dismay), and Halsin on foot with a dozen children following behind him.

The event was lively and filled with an excited, jovial air. A pianist had been hired for the occasion, and the rich sounds coming from the keys mixed with the soft crackling of fireplaces added beautiful background noise to the dining room. Every sconce in the house was lit, and the various candles around the dining room, their wax colored in an array of autumnal tones, provided a beautiful, homey glow. The entire setting wrapped you and your friends in a blanket of warmth and comfort.

Night took over the manor, and the flowers inside their vases bloomed, almost as if on cue, as the food was brought about. The spectacle brought forth several compliments from your friends, lighting your heart aglow. It would have been tradition for you and your husband to sit on opposite ends of the long mahogany dining table, but you had quickly waved off that formality amongst your closest friends and instead sat on Astarion’s left. One of his hands remained clasped firmly in yours most of the night, while his other hand held a golden goblet repeatedly filled with wine. He'd dined on several chalices of animal blood earlier that day, but a plate was still placed in front of him for show. Halsin's cantankerous brood sat at another table parallel to the adults. They were creating quite a ruckus and tossing scraps at an excited Scratch, and you chuckled while thinking the beast was living possibly the best day of his life.

Karlach told of her time in Avernus, and the many efforts Dammon made to fix her engine once and for all. Astarion had helped Karlach secure another position by contract with Zariel, one where she was not actively fighting in the hells… but it still was not the perfect solution, and she was only granted a few weeks of reprieve every year. After a few more years, she would hopefully be out of the hells for good... if Dammon managed to pull through on a permanent solution so she could remain on the material plane. Something told you that Dammon was quite driven by yearning for your red friend and spent all day and all night working to turn Karlach's dream into a reality, and you prayed every day to your gods that his experiments would be a success.

Shadowheart and Lae’zel had spent much of the past four years with the cleric’s parents and traveling around the Sword Coast. The unlikely couple hinted at a possible wedding in the near future. Astarion couldn’t help but chuckle beside you at the irony of it all, a small smirk on his face as he locked eyes with you. But he held back his silver-tongue, knowing he had no right to judge, since he'd initially held a blade to the throat of his beloved.

Gale delivered a most interesting piece of information. He stated he'd pursued many tomes and scrolls and had finally come across a documented successful case of the Wish Spell not more than a month ago. He’d sought out the sorcerer named on record and found the elven man at his residence near Candlekeep. Gale did not feel he was quite prepared to perform the spell on Astarion without disastrous results, but he spoke about the sorcerer with reverence and infatuation akin to the tone he’d once taken when telling of Mystra. You didn’t press further, knowing Gale would reveal everything in his own time, but Astarion shot you a knowing glance before, somewhat surprisingly, genuinely thanking the wizard for his continued efforts and raising a glass to their continued friendship.

Halsin was proud to announce his new community was thriving. Several of the tiefling children your group had rescued were growing to be active members of the society and expanding their efforts. You were thrilled to hear that Mol had turned out to be quite the leader, and Halsin’s influence had pushed her toward benevolence. Arabella was reportedly doing quite well in her studies of the Weave, and spent her breaks with her friends. Halsin hinted at a need for further aid from the city, which both Euphemia and you implored Wyll to look into. The two of you exchanged conspiratorial glances as Wyll gave a good-natured sigh and shot a look that practically said, ‘Women, am I right?’ to a bemused Astarion from across the table. But the Duke promised Halsin with a hand to his heart that he would bring it up at the next meeting.

Astarion had spent most of the night in relative silence, apart from a chuckle or quip dotted throughout the conversation. It was clear he was happy to be in the presence of friends and listen to their exploits, and though he wasn’t particularly loquacious that evening, the soft smile that stayed plastered to his face as he drank from his goblet caused you to make a mental note to host more events within your home. He’d never acknowledge it, but his condition had the poor side effect of being a dreadfully isolating experience, and the man quite enjoyed the company of others. He claimed to need only you in his life, but you knew that was just the expression of romantic love and loyal dedication that overflowed from his heart. Perhaps it was a slant truth that he wanted to believe, despite your knowledge and understanding otherwise.

When people began their departures, everyone was fully sated and thoroughly drunk. Lae’zel and Shadowheart were the first to bid their farewells to the others and stumble drunkenly to your guest chambers. As you watched them walk away, you were all but certain they were about to commit some deplorable actions between the silken sheets you’d put out for them. Your suspicions were confirmed to be correct when the rest of you heard someone bang into the wall with a moan before several giggles and loud shushing gravitated down the hall.

Karlach heaved a heavy sigh as she stood, knowing full well that her guest room was located right next door to the couple's and lamenting the fact that she would have to listen to their incessant lovemaking all night. She had plans to go visit Dammon in the morning, and turned in shortly after Lae'zel and Shadowheart. She took her time hugging everyone around the room and placing a sloppy kiss on Astarion's cheek, intentionally and effectively ruffling his feathers. You'd always felt that, apart from you, Karlach had been the vampire's favorite campmate. The instinct was always reaffirmed every time Astarion allowed Karlach to smother him with affection and, although he acted annoyed, he always let a smile reach his eyes for a moment before slipping the perturbed mask back into place.

Wyll and Euphemia made you promise them to give an answer by the start of the New Year and you reluctantly agreed to the terms as the Duke helped his betroathed into the carriage and bid you both farewell with plans for dinner at his home in a few weeks time.

You’d become quite enamored with a sweet girl named Winifred that had joined Halsin, white wildflowers adorning her red hair. She was not but ten and already showed significant talent for healing spells, as displayed when a tiefling child pulled out a loose tooth at the children's table and began bleeding quite profusely. She gave you a hug as you bid your goodbyes to all the younglings, and you promised Halsin you would stop by within the next few weeks to show her a few more spells. He thanked you both and then called to the children, all of them following obediently behind the druid like a gaggle of ducklings behind their mother.

Gale was the last to depart, opening another portal as he turned to the two of you. “I will keep you both abreast of my progress. Watch for my scrolls. And please come to Candlekeep soon… I would like to introduce you to both to Tharren; he’s eager to meet the vampire I’m hoping to aid and our famed heroes of Baldur’s Gate.”

The wizard presses a platonic kiss to your cheek and wraps Astarion into a hug, the vampire reacting to the embrace like a cat responds to being held by their least favorite family member - stiff, awkward, but otherwise accepting. Your love even relents toward the end of the embrace and wraps his arm around Gale in response, for the first time ever, before the wizard steps away. Gale’s eyes flit between you both as he waves and disappears in a flash of blue light.

You stare at the spot where the portal just dissipated, a slight drop in your chest as you take in the absence of your friends. There is a soft moment of silence that you sit in with your husband, the first moment of quiet all night. Astarion pulls you toward him as a breeze runs across the lawn before he places a kiss in your hair. He murmurs into your ear before pressing another kiss along your cheek. “My darling, I will let you have your night… but tomorrow we will discuss Wyll’s offer, yes?”

You nod and hum in agreement, knowing you cannot outrun the conversation forever. But for tonight, all you desire is to bask in the afterglow of beautiful memories and the warmth of your husband's love. The silver-haired elf spins you and places soft kisses along your collarbone, which he’d been pointedly admiring by almost vulgarly running his eyes along your chest at every opportunity. He trails up to your neck, resting his lips for a moment on that familiar spot at the crook of it before snaking his tongue out to subtly trace over the faintly raised puncture marks.

“Now, my sweet, let’s head to our bed chambers. I’d quite like my dessert. I’ve been staring at that darling neck of yours all night and it’s taken almost all of my control to not splay you out on the dining table and take you in front of our closest friends… though I do think a fair few of them would’ve enjoyed the show. If not for the children, who knows what I might’ve done?”

The flush in your face rises, aided by the heavy amounts of wine and brandy you’d consumed that evening. Astarion makes his way up to your lips and delves his tongue into your mouth, soft at first, but with growing intensity as the kiss lengthens. Before long, your legs are wrapped around the vampire as he carries you to your bedroom, fully intent on making love to you until the sun rises and eternally thankful for his little treasure that the gods placed in his path when he least expected it.

[nocasdatsgay]

Baby of Mine A Spring Time Affairs Fic

Day 7 of @polyacotarweek Free Day

Pairing: Tamlin/OC/Elain/Lucien | Rating: T| Word count: 3778

Master List | Poly Week Masterpost | Read on AO3

Summary: After Calanmai and forgetting to take the tea, Flora is pregnant. The problem is, she doesn’t know if Tamlin or Lucien is the father.

Warnings: Pregnancy, Anxiety, base level childbirth mentions, a baby

AN: WE DID IT FOLKS! Last day of the week. I can’t want to go through the Masterlist and read what I have missed while writing. Thank you for all the likes and comments. PS: Can you catch the Beast of the Briars call out?

Tagging: @saltedcoffeescotch @ysmtttty

Tamlin said he did not care. 

Lucien and Elain both said they didn’t care. 

But Flora did. 

The stress was evident on her face as she turned in front of the mirror, gaze dropping down to her bare stomach. She was starting to show. New clothes would be in soon, her old ones already feeling snug. She didn’t want to despise the babe in her belly but gods it was hard to not let her worries get to her. 

She was Tamlin’s wife. She had a duty to him to have his heir. What would the court do if her babe came out with red hair or russet eyes? Their relationship wasn’t a secret. Everyone knew. But they’d been so careful and then Calanmai came and the one time she forgot to put contraceptives in her system, she ended up pregnant. 

She hoped it was the first undiluted magic that conceived this child. Tamlin took her into the cave. They made love on that stone and released all that magic back into the world. What happened with Lucien and Elain after wasn’t under the same pull of ancient magic. But doubt plagued her. Her plants showed her there was no difference between the first wave of magic and after. It could easily be the same with her. 

“Flora?” Tamlin’s voice dragged her out of her thoughts. Her gaze met his through the mirror. “Is everything alright?” 

Tamlin stayed nervous about her condition. She knew why. He was worried she would fall into a depression or worse. He was constantly encouraging her to engage with the court, to go outside with Elain. It warred with his want to keep her inside and safe. His mistakes in the past haunted him. Even after all the time that passed. 

“I just-“ she looked back at where her hand rested on her stomach. “You know I worry.” 

“I don’t care what others may think. You know this.” 

“They’ll talk, Tamlin,” tears built in her eyes. Her worries she had been holding in came tumbling out. “What good am I? If my first born is not your heir? This is a child, Tamlin. What if it is Lucien’s? What if it triggers something in Elain? They’re mates.”

“Flora.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked and tears spilt. “It’s awful to think these things, I know. I'm horrible.”

“You’re not horrible, my wildflower.” Tamlin came up to her, wrapping his arms around her. One hand splayed over her stomach. “How long have you felt like this?” 

“Since I found out.” 

She grabbed one of his arms with her hand to mentally steady herself. She hadn’t spoken out loud how she felt. She feigned excitement; they were so happy when her scent changed. She didn’t want to take that away from them just because she worried. 

“Honey.” She winced at the sadness in his tone. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?” 

“I didn’t want to upset you.”

“You’ll never upset me.” She felt him kiss the back of her head. “I know you worry but our babe is so loved already and that’s all that matters.” 

She nodded and leaned back into the embrace of her husband. Tamlin was the most excited out of all of them. She just hoped she could match his enthusiasm sooner rather than later. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She officially was showing and barely made it out alive from the Court announcement party. So many congratulations, each one meant well but still grated her. She was a perfect Lady of Spring, faking her smile and when someone did notice, it was explained off as hormones. Tam watched her the whole time, ready to scoop her up and out of the room if needed. She finally feigned tiredness and excused herself. 

It was a relief to enter the empty hall. Though she was not alone for long. She made it up the stairs before running into one of the two people who put her in this predicament. Lucien’s gold eye clicked rapidly as he came up to her, studying her face. She had not seen him since his return this morning from visiting Day Court. 

“How did it go?”

Flora rolled her eyes. “I swear if I hear one more congratulations I am going to vomit.”

”So it went well. Good.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “And how are you? How’s my little one?”

”I am tired and annoyed. And you don’t know for certain, if this babe is yours,” she snapped. She regretted it the second the words left her mouth. “The baby is fine, Lucien. I didn’t mean- I’m sorry. That was unkind of me.”

“It was.” He didn’t hide the hurt on his face. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t mean that. I’m sorry.”  She looked down in shame. She’d never spoken to Lucien like that before. She was horrid. 

“Flora, look at me, I do forgive you.” He reached his hand under her chin and tilted it up so she would look at him. “I get it and I’m sure the announcement party didn’t help.”

Her eyes watered. “It really didn’t. None of them have any idea. They all just assume this was planned. They all just assume this is Tamlin’s and when I try to correct them, they just -” She took a shaky breath and her hand went to the small bump poking out from her dress. “Tam says stress isn’t good for the baby.”

”It’s not,” Lucien replied. “If they’re mine, they might come out looking grumpy and be mistaken for Eris if you aren’t careful. Try explaining that to the court.”

That made her laugh. “You’re right.” She gave him a soft smile. “He’s a boy, by the way. Don’t tell Elain, she doesn’t know yet.”

Lucien’s grin beamed with likeness of the sun. “We’re having a boy?”

“Yes. We are having a boy.” She paused and bit her lip. She knew the answer but after the party, her worries continued to fall from her lips without warning. “If this is Tam’s baby, are you sure you aren’t going to be mad?”

Lucien sighed. “I’ve already told you, it doesn’t matter if he’s mine or Tam’s, he will be ours.” Lucien tapped his finger on her nose. “Get those thoughts out of your mind. Don’t let the courtiers get to you. And go tell Elain before I find her first. I won’t be able to help myself and she’ll be livid you told me first.” 

Flora nodded and smiled again. Lucien always knew how to make her feel better. She stood on her toes and gave him a quick kiss before setting off to find Elain. He was right on that part; Elain was going to be livid she was the last to know. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tamlin made her nap in a guest room citing he ‘had a surprise’ for her. She was too tired to question it. Five months in and between being either absolutely insatiable and exhausted, she took his word for it and laid down. It wasn’t until after dinner that night, he escorted her to their rooms, grinning the whole time. 

“What did you do?” She asked, not able to suppress her own smile. 

“Come see.” 

They entered through the sitting room and into their bed chamber. Nothing looked different; Tamlin guided her forward into the next room and she gasped. The nursery was finished- and fully finished. Her hand went instantly to her stomach, where she felt the flutters of life moving inside her. 

“It’s beautiful,” she blinked back her tears. “Oh, Tamlin.” 

She called out things as she noticed them. The walls were painted a pretty light green. A bassinet in the middle and an oak crib against the wall near their room for later. Even the rug was beautiful- her favorite flowers stitched in throughout. Other furniture filled the room, all a deep oak like the crib. There was even a rocking chair and bookshelf by the window. 

“Do you notice anything else?” 

She frowned, looking up at her husband’s knowing smirk. She looked around the room again- everything was new. The room even smelled of wood still. She frowned harder; that wasn’t right. She glanced around the room again and finally noticed it. A new door opposite their own. 

“Where does that go?” She asked. 

“To Lu and Lainy’s rooms.” 

She jerked her head towards him again with her mouth open. “They’re moving? Really?” 

They talked about it so often before that Flora thought it was mute at this point. She desperately wanted them to be closer than where their rooms were now on the other side of the manor but didn’t want to push them. They deserved their own space. Even with the baby- especially with the baby. But knowing they agreed to move closer- she started crying. 

“We’ve been waiting for time to put the door in so they’d have access to the nursery too if needed.” Tamlin reached up and wiped her tears. “These are happy ones, correct?” She nodded. “Good. Come, I want you to pick out the curtains for the window.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Three more months to go and Flora was ready to evict this baby now. Sitting was a little uncomfortable, her belly becoming rounder by the day. It didn’t help that her babe started to kick daily, for no other reason than to make his mother uncomfortable. 

Even outside in the garden, where the chairs could lounge out to prop up one’s feet weren’t comfortable. It was Elain’s idea to take their tea outside today. Flora shuffled about in her chair while Elain poured tea into a cup. 

“Drink this,” Elain sat the tea cup and saucer beside her. 

“What is it?” Flora was scared to sniff it. Last time she smelled anything but black tea she nearly hurled. Though that was early on in her pregnancy. She avoided it ever since. 

“Raspberry mint. I made it for Feyre and it seemed to help with the second pregnancy.”

She took a hesitant sip and her eyes widened right before she downed more of it. She sat back her chair and made an inappropriate noise. 

“This is the best tea I’ve ever had.” She took another drink from the saucer. “Thank you Elain.”

“You’re welcome. Hopefully it calms the little rascal.” 

Flora nodded and resisted the urge to down the rest of her cup. She set aside and watched Elain take a sip of her own tea. 

“How are your sisters?” 

Elain contemplated for a moment. Flora didn’t know if that was a bad sign or not. 

“Nesta has taken on a writing project.” Elain cut her eyes to Flora with a knowing look. “A romance novel.” 

Flora sat up straighter. “Really? On a scale of what I read and what you read, how smutty is it?” 

“What you read. You know Nes adores those Drake books. Stands to reason she would write something equally scandalous.” 

“You know you love those books too,” Flora playfully rolled her eyes. “I hope she completes it. Tell her I look forward to having a copy on my bookshelf.”

Elain grinned. “I will make sure to let her know.”

“And Feyre? How is she?” 

Flora held no ill will to the female. What happened between her and Tamlin was in the past. 

“She’s good. The twins are giving her hell.” Flora laughed at that. “She handed off her workshops to local artists. So now she’s only supervising the ones in Illyria and Hewn city, occasionally hosting an event.” 

“I thought you mentioned she planned for that?” 

Elain took a sip of her tea. “She did. She’s just been putting off for decades. She’s worse than Lucien, having her hands in so many pots.” 

Flora couldn’t disagree. She picked her tea backup and drank the rest before it was too cold. It was only minutes later when she realized she could still feel the baby move but his kicking stopped. 

“By the cauldron I thought he’d never stop. You’re a lifesaver, Lainy.” 

She only smiled and took another sip of her tea. They settled into a nice silence but Flora’s mind spiraled. No longer focused on her baby’s excessive kicking, she couldn’t help but wonder further about Elain’s sisters. She hadn’t had time to ask. Or even think about it but now…

“Elain?” She hummed in acknowledgment. Flora smoothed out the fabric on her belly idly. “Have you explained to your sisters he might be Lucien’s?” 

“I have.” She replied. “They are aware we have a different relationship, the four of us. They are understanding. You don’t know them as well as I do, but I promise they will not care. If they did, I would never let them hear the end of it.”

She accepted that response. Elain studied her for a moment, then reached over, placing her hand on Flora’s stomach. 

“No matter what, this is our baby. We’ve been over this. I will love him no matter who fathered him.”

“I know, I know. Thank you.” 

Elain gave her a soft smile and pulled back her hand to stand. She came over and gave Flora a quick kiss. She patted Flora’s shoulder. 

“Come, let’s clean this up and go bother our husbands.” She said with a grin. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The time finally came and Flora labored off and on for days. The whole time Tamlin never left her side. Lucien kept the court running and Elain took over the kitchens by cooking. She’d brought all kinds of food every few hours to see if Flora would eat. Flora took most of the pastries. She joked the baby had a sweet tooth but they all knew it was just Flora’s preference. 

It felt like an eternity passed before it came time to push. Their healer in the room supervised as planned. With Lucien and Elain flanking her sides, and holding her hands, Tamlin caught their child as he was pushed out into this world. Flora should have known the second she felt the head crown and Tamlin’s widened, what was about to happen. Of course she was too focused on screaming her own lungs out from the pain and pressure to realize it for what it was.

Their healer beside him cleaned out the baby's mouth and wails filled the room. Flora was finally handed a baby boy with the brightest red hair she’d ever seen in her life. And she laughed. She laughed and cried as she pulled her baby to her chest. All those months of worry, all the love for this tiny little being she grew in her body, and all the stress from labor hit her at once. 

It was bittersweet but not in the way she expected or planned for. She didn’t realize Elain had moved off the bed until Tamlin was right beside her, hands cupping her face as he kissed her forehead then her lips. He was crying too but there was no sadness in his eyes. No words were exchanged; they weren’t needed. It was their healer who finally intervened, moving Tamlin so her assistant could take the baby to clean up and she could take over for the rest of the process. Flora looked over to see Lucien and Elain still by her side. Both of them had red eyes also. 

“We have a baby,” Flora choked out, tears renewed. Both of them grinned at her. 

“We do,” Lucien laughed through his tears. 

They both gave her a long kiss each before the healer shooed them out to give Flora some space. They all agreed when she first became pregnant that no matter what, she wanted Tamlin by her side during the first few hours of recovery. She still felt guilty sending Lucien out, knowing what she knew now. 

The guilt didn’t last long when she felt like she had to push again. 

Tamlin was utterly smitten. Flora watched him cradle their baby in his arms while the head healer made certain everything else was gone and felt around her stomach. He was so gentle, like he was afraid he would break him. The healer finally took the baby back to show Flora how to feed him. Once he was settled, they cleaned up and Flora moved into their room. 

After some time with just her and the baby, Tamlin came back to join her on the bed. She also finally realized how exhausted she was. Being back in her own bed, with her baby calm had relaxed her heavily. Tamlin put their son in the cradle by the bed and crawled up next to her. They were silent for a long time, so much she almost fell asleep with Tamlin rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. His soft voice pulled her back from sleep. 

“Flora?” 

“Tam.”

“How do you feel?” He was still stroking her knuckles nervously. 

“Exhausted.” She knew that’s not what he meant. “Numb. I worried so much. I was so anxious. Now it’s over and I don’t feel anything.”

“Look at me,” he pulled back and tilted her chin up gently. His sad green eyes pleaded with hers. “The second you start feeling upset or overwhelmed, you tell me. Because you will- you just had a baby, our baby. Your body might be in shock.”

He let go and she nodded. “I know. I promise. I love you.”

“I love you,” he kissed her forehead. “Do you want to bring Lu and Lainy in? Or do you want to rest?” 

“They can come in. They need to meet their son proper.” She grinned when she said that. Their son. The four of them. 

“I’ll get them.” 

Tamlin went through the door to the nursery and shortly came back with Lucien and Elain right behind him. After a few exchanges of kisses with Flora, Lucien took the babe first. Elain came and sat by her while Lucien stood, rocking the baby gently in his arms. 

Then his brows furrowed, confusion etched in his face. “Are we sure he’s mine?” 

“That’s exactly what Beron said when you were born,” Tamlin replied immediately, causing Flora and Elain to snort with laughter. 

“No, I mean it,” Lucien replied through his own chuckles. “His eyes are green.” 

“No, they aren’t,” Flora replied. 

She had stared at her son the whole time she had him and fed him. Not once did she notice his eyes being green when he opened them. Elain got up and Lucien lowered him for her to look. Shock went over her face. 

“Flora, they’re green.” 

They brought their son over to her. She frowned as she took him and he grunted from being passed around. It took a moment for him to open his eyes again. Flora’s mouth fell open. Her son’s eyes were green. Tamlin’s green. 

Tamlin looked down at their son with a soft smile. “The Mother has a sense of humor. When we said our baby she knew we meant it.” He sighed and looked at his wife. “Do you still want to wait? Before we tell your parents he’s here?”

“Gods yes.” Flora’s parents always meant well, but were so overbearing sometimes. “I need a few days before my mother descends upon the manor. I’m also going to need all three of you here to explain this.” She smoothed her son's red hair gently. 

Along with overbearing, they weren’t understanding of her relationships. They only kept their mouths shut thanks to Tamlin being High Lord. Elain’s sisters understood. Lucien’s parents understood a little too well, considering who his father was. Flora was going to have to mentally prepare for the explanations she’d have to provide. Elain pulled her from her thoughts, moving her mate to sit beside Flora. 

“Have you picked the name?” 

Elain looked between her and Tamlin with her big doe eyes, innocently trying to hide her excitement. She’d been begging them to tell her what they picked for weeks. A small list was made by the four of them and from there, her and Tam picked two weeks ago. 

“Yes Lainey,” Flora bumped her forehead gently against Elain’s. “We’re going with Ezryn.” 

“Not the grumpy one,” Lucien exclaimed albeit playfully. 

Before Flora could even scold him, Ezryn grunted and shuffled in his swaddle. It would have been perfect timing if his hair hadn’t changed from bright red to brown. Her eyes widened as she just stared at her baby, silence between the four of them deafening. It was finally Elain, who said something. 

“Oh he’s going to be a rascal.” She covered her mouth and looked at her mate. 

Then Flora laughed again. Laughed and cried like she had when she held him for the first time. The whole time she was worried about his hair and he changed it. Which meant her worries, her acceptance of her fate, was all a waste. Tamlin was laughing too, his head on her shoulder. 

“He’s worse than you,” she wiped her eyes, turning her head to her husband. “By the mother he’s only a few hours old.”

“I still think he’s Lucien’s,” Tamlin chuckled, which sent Lucien howling. 

Ezryn did not like that. To be fair to him, his little fae ears could only handle so much. Tamlin took him, rocking him gently in his arms. Lucien and Elain both made their exit, promising to come back with dinner later so Flora could rest. By the time he was settled again, Flora was also nearly asleep. 

“He’s going to be a menace,” she whispered after Tamlin put their son in his cradle. 

“He’s our menace.” Tamlin got in the bed with her. “His powers are just fluctuating because he’s a newborn. They’ll taper out in a day or so.” 

She nodded and yawned. She then snuggled up to Tamlin to try and rest, though her mind raced. 

“Will you check on Lucien later?” She whispered. “I’m worried. We all thought…”

“I will, I promise.” He took her hand that laid on his chest and gently squeezed it. “I think he’s fine, but I will ask Lainy to keep an eye on him. Today was a lot for all of us.” 

“It was.” She yawned again. “Thank you.” 

Silence fell between them. She let Tamlin brush his fingers through her hair until she finally fell asleep.

[eviebakes]

'til morning comes

Summary: In the twilight years of gunslingers and outlaws, Mattie is used to being on her own—and then she meets Flora.

Word Count: ~4.5K

Warnings: Violence, Explicit Language

A/N: This story was inspired by @drizzledrawings amazing cowbians art, which you should definitely go check out!! Mattie and Flora are their characters, but hopefully I did these two cowboys justice 🤠 The title is from Tessellate by alt-j. Thank you so much for reading!

__________________

Mattie stood beneath the shade of an oak tree, an unlit cigarette between her lips.

She patted her pockets, biting back a sigh when the search failed to yield any matches.

Damn. Mattie tilted her head skyward, lifting her hat and pushing her bangs back into her hair.

Dark clouds loomed on the horizon, hinting at the promise of rain. Somewhere overhead, a hawk screeched.

June grazed nearby, just visible through the trees. Mattie debated calling her over so she could look through the saddle bags before quickly dismissing the idea.

She’d resupply when she got the chance. Maybe stop at that muddy little town she’d ridden past this morning and grab a hot meal while she was at it.

Later though.

Now, it was time to rob some bastard blind.

Mattie hummed beneath her breath as she strode through the trees, her hand brushing against the worn leather of her holster. The ground, still wet from last night’s rain, sunk beneath her boots with every step.

She found a good vantage spot on the edge of the road and tucked herself against a tree, half-obscured by the surrounding foliage.

A covered wagon rolled past, a man and woman arguing loudly over supplies. Then, a group of men on horseback, all of them grim faced and armed to the teeth.

Mattie waited patiently, biding her time.

Experience had taught her that it was better to wait for the right target. Even if there were less lawmen in this part of the country, picking the wrong person could lead to trouble.

Mattie straightened from her lean when a woman appeared down the road sitting astride a piebald horse, a white hat pulled low over her face.

Mattie eyed her consideringly—but to her surprise, the woman raised her head and looked straight at her.

Their eyes met. The woman gave her a once-over and smiled, touching the brim of her hat as she rode past. After a moment’s hesitation, Mattie returned the gesture and resumed her vigil.

Half an hour passed before another single rider appeared. A man this time, unarmed and covered in road dust.

Perfect.

“Help me,” Mattie gasped, limping out of the brush and stumbling to the ground in front of him. “Oh, God—please help me!”

“Whoa!” The man pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted, eyeing her warily. “What’s wrong, miss?”

“I-it’s my ankle,” she whimpered, clutching at her foot. “Somethin’ is wrong with my ankle!”

He hesitantly took a step closer, the watch chain on his vest glinting in the sun. “What happened?”

“My horse bucked me and r-ran off into the woods,” Mattie panted. “Please, mister. Can you help me find him?”

He shifted on his feet, seemingly torn between pity and suspicion. But Mattie was a good liar and, after several days of traveling, she didn’t have to feign dishevelment.

“Please,” she said, her voice cracking, and his expression finally softened. Got you.

“Here, let’s get you up,” he said, crouching beside her. “We’ll find your horse, miss.”

He helped her to stand and, as soon as she put weight on her foot, Mattie pretended to stumble into him.

Her fingers skimmed against the watch chain right as he moved to catch her, causing her hand to knock into his stomach. Shit.

Before she could play it off, he grabbed her wrist. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Let go of me!” Mattie snapped, dropping all pretense.

Her free hand went to her holster when he only tightened his grip. “I should’ve known better! You’re nothing more than a goddamn—"

They both froze when a horse appeared down the road at a full gallop, heading straight for them.

The man released her with a curse, and Mattie dove away as the rider desperately pulled back on the reigns to avoid them.

The horse reared, the rider tumbling off the saddle and hitting the ground with a cry.

The man rushed over to help, and Mattie took advantage of the distraction to crawl into the undergrowth. Breathless, she peered through the leaves to watch the scene unfold.

“Miss! Miss, are you okay?”

“I-I think so. J-just a little shaken.”

“Here, let me help you sit up. Careful now—take it slow.”

Mattie narrowed her eyes. It was the same brunette who’d ridden past earlier. Why’d she come back this way…?

“Thank you, sir,” she said as the man helped her up, hastily offering an arm when she swayed unsteadily on her feet. “I truly appreciate your kindness.”

“If anything, I should be thanking you. You interrupted some ugly business—a would-be thief trying to rob me.”

“How awful!”

She clutched the man’s arm more tightly, and the sleight of hand was so subtle, so natural, that Mattie almost thought she’d imagined it.

But no—the woman smoothly tucked the watch up her shirtsleeve a moment later, her eyes never once leaving the man’s face. “I’m lucky I ran into you instead—I could’ve been in even more trouble!”

Unlike Mattie’s fumbled attempt at pickpocketing, the man didn’t so much as blink. “Don’t worry, now. She seems to have scampered off in the chaos.”

“Thank goodness for that! The roads can so unsafe sometimes.”

Mattie ground her teeth, fuming at the turn of events. This had to be a damn joke.

But as the man helped her onto the horse, the brunette turned to look right at the spot where Mattie had concealed herself—a flash of dark, mischievous eyes.

And then she winked.

What. The. FUCK.

_________

A few hours later found Mattie at the saloon, nursing a lukewarm beer while she sulked.

What a waste of a day. Hours spent staking out a decent spot along the road, and nothing to show for it but a bruised ego. She’d been outmaneuvered and out—out thieved, and it pissed her off to no end.

She took an angry gulp of beer, slamming down the bottle in a futile effort to relieve some of the frustration prickling beneath her skin.

No one paid her any mind. It was late afternoon, and the saloon was blessedly empty save for a few men playing poker.

Tomorrow, she’d start fresh. Ride to that town north of here and rob any easy targets she found along the way.

Tonight though, Mattie just wanted to forget the whole shitty day.

She drank her way through several more beers while the saloon slowly filled with people, the wall lights flickering to life as the sunlight faded. Carts and stagecoaches rumbled past outside, joining the piano music and the hum of conversation.

One of the poker players sidled up to the bar, squeezing into the open spot beside her. He was around her age, his hair slicked back with too much pomade.  

He ordered a whiskey, subtly glancing at her while the bartender filled a glass for him. Mattie ignored him, keeping her gaze forward.

She bit back a sigh when he fully twisted to face her. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore—"

“Not interested,” Mattie broke in flatly, not even bothering to look at him.

“I’m just trying to have a conv—”

“Get. Lost.”

His ears reddened, but there were too many people around for him to do more than shoot her a dirty look. “You aren’t that pretty anyways.”

“Good one. Very original,” Mattie said beneath her breath as he staggered away.

“Right? A real charmer,” someone said at her elbow.

Mattie tensed. It was the brunette—smiling at her like they were the best of friends. “You.”

“Me,” she agreed easily, resting her arms on the bar and nodding at the empty bottles. “Tough day, huh?”

“No thanks to you,” Mattie hissed accusingly, jabbing a finger at her. “You robbed me.”

“I thought about robbing you, but you didn’t look like you had much.”

She gaped. “You serious?”

“No, I’m Flora.”

“You—that’s not—!” Mattie pressed her lips together, glowering. “So…so you just came here to gloat then?”

“I came here for a drink, sunshine.”

Sunshine…? Mattie mouthed stupidly, her glare faltering. It was like she’d encountered a whirlwind—one that was two steps ahead of her.

“This was the closest town in riding distance,” Flora said, gesturing at the sunflower on Mattie’s hat in answer to her unspoken question. “And I was gonna rob the first good target I ran into out there. Don’t read too much into it.”

Her voice was friendly, but lacked the flirtatiousness from the road. It’d just been part of the act, like pretending to fall off her horse or Mattie’s damsel in distress ploy.

“Well aren’t you good at what you do,” Mattie said, like she had a mouthful of marbles.

“Awful sweet of you for noticing,” Flora said, grinning when she rolled her eyes. “Tell you what. Your next round is on me.”

“No thanks,” Mattie said, scowling. “I don’t need your pity.”

“Hey, if I feel bad for anyone, it’s that poor bastard from earlier.” Flora leaned closer, one of her braids sliding over her shoulder and grazing Mattie’s arm. “He was the one getting robbed today, one way or another.”

A laugh bubbled from the back of her throat. Mattie barely managed to turn it into a cough because—yeah, she had a point. “Just one drink.”

“That’s the spirit,” Flora said cheerfully, catching the bartender’s attention and tossing a few coins on the bar.

“But this doesn’t make us friends,” Mattie added, catching the drink Flora slid her way.

“Whatever you say,” Flora agreed amicably, clinking their bottles together. “Cheers.”

She waited until Mattie took a sip, smiling with the lip of the bottle still pressed to her mouth. “That wasn’t so bad, was—"

“Hey,” someone interrupted loudly. They simultaneously looked over their shoulders. “Hey, you. Irish.”

“Oh good,” Flora said lightly, turning and propping a hip against the bar. “Mr. Charmer is back for another round."

“Course he is.” Mattie clenched her jaw, twisting to face the man. “What do you want now?”

It took him a full second to focus on her. “I want to know what your problem is.”

“My problem is that I’m tryin’ to have a peaceful evenin’, and you keep botherin’ me.”

“I’m just trying to be friendly.” He leaned closer, his breath making her nose crinkle. “What, you’re too good for a conversation?”

“Is that what you call this?” Mattie looked at him coolly, her lip curling. “If you want to talk so badly, go pay someone for it.”

He flushed a dark red when Flora snickered, something ugly flashing across his face. “You really think you’re better than me, huh.”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t go that far, but at least I don’t spend my time harassin’ folk and—what was that other part again?”

She pretended to mull it over before snapping her fingers. “Oh right. I don’t smell like fucking pig shit.”

Mattie raised her bottle in a sarcastic salute and turned back toward the bar, already anticipating his next move.

Sure enough, he grabbed her arm and tugged her toward him. “We aren’t done talk—"

The words cut off in a howl of pain when Mattie deftly flipped her bottle and smashed it against his face. He stumbled backwards and tripped over a chair, taking another man down with him as he fell.

The uproar was immediate. A few people ran for the exit, but the drunkest men joined the fray—hooting and hollering as they laid into one another.

Mattie didn’t wait to see the outcome. She sidestepped two brawling men and beelined it toward the exit, dodging neatly out of the way when someone ran past with a chair and threw it through the window with a whoop.

She’d almost reached the saloon doors when a hand clamped down on her arm and yanked her backwards.

Mattie twisted, catching a flash of Pig Shit’s bloodied face right before he plowed her in the cheek.

She spun with the force of the blow, tasting blood as pain erupted across her entire face. Mattie barely avoided his next few swings, landing a single punch before he decked her again.

Her vision went white. She flew into a table and crashed to the floor, shot glasses and bottles raining down around her.

Mattie struggled to her knees, shards of glass digging into her skin. Pig Shit’s boots appeared in her line of vision, the leather worn and muddied.

“Not so superior now, huh,” he sneered, kicking aside her hat as she spat out blood. “Bet you’re regretting that smart mouth of your—"

He staggered when something connected with his head, his expression frozen in surprise for the briefest second before he crumpled in a heap.

“With a mouth that big, he’s sure one to talk,” Flora said disdainfully, tossing aside the broken table leg while Mattie gaped at her. “Come on, sunshine—on your feet.”

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” Mattie panted as Flora hauled her up and pushed her hat into her hands. “Figured you’d be long gone.”

“Well, you’re glad I’m not, right?” Flora retorted, her gaze locking onto something across the bar. Mattie wiped at her bloody lip and looked over her shoulder.

Two of the poker players—likely Pig Shit’s buddies—were shoving their way through the crowd in their direction.

“Can you run?” Flora asked urgently, grasping her wrist.

“I think so.”

“Then run,” she ordered, already tugging Mattie towards the exit.

They shouldered through the saloon doors and raced across the street, Flora leading them into a dark alleyway between a row of buildings and a fence where several people were loitering.

Without warning, Flora pulled off her hat and crowded her against the wall, pinning their hats between them.

“What’re you doin’,” Mattie hissed as Flora casually wrapped her arms around her waist. “This is the opposite of runnin’.”

“It’s called hiding in plain sight,” Flora whispered, settling into the embrace. She was a few inches shorter than Mattie, her temple fitting perfectly in the curve of her jaw. “Play along.”

Mattie bit back a retort when footsteps echoed down the alley, bowing her head as the men ran past—but young lovers hiding in the shadows was nothing unusual, and they didn’t so much as spare them a glance.

Flora stepped away as soon as the footsteps receded, placing her hat on her head. “Where’s your horse? You might be able to sneak away without them noticing.”

Mattie rested against the wall, biting back a wince while she probed at her cheek. Her left eye was already swollen shut. “The only place I’m goin’ tonight is a hotel.”

“Right,” Flora said, drawing out the word into multiple syllables and somehow injecting skepticism in all of them. “And you’re doing that why…?”

“’Cause they’ll be expectin’ me to jump town tonight,” Mattie explained. “Better to hunker down now and head out early.”

“That’s…actually pretty smart.”

She sounded insultingly impressed. Mattie huffed. “Give me some credit here.”

“The hotel is just around the corner,” Flora said, ignoring her. “We should head there now before our new friends decide to come calling again.”

Mattie looked at her sharply. “We?”

“You’re not the only one in danger,” Flora said, her tone losing some of the levity that’d been there all night. “They’ll be looking for me too.”

Mattie shook her head, too tired to argue. “Fine, but you’re not—"

“—your friend,” she broke in, raising an eyebrow. “I know.”

“No, that’s not—” Mattie put on her hat and pulled some coins from her pocket, pushing them into Flora’s hand. “I was gonna say that you don’t need to pay for the rooms since it’s my fault you’re in this mess.”

Flora gazed down at her palm for a moment, looking taken aback for the first time that day. Her eyes were bright when she glanced up, a smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks, partner.”

Mattie grunted and made her way toward the street. Flora fell into step beside her, undeterred. “Buddy?”

“No.”

“Pal?”

“Ugh.”

She thought for a moment before snapping her fingers. “Compadre.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Mattie warned without heat, tilting her hat down to hide her smile when Flora just laughed.

“Maybe you should stay here,” Flora suggested when they reached the hotel. Light spilled through the windows, casting flickering shadows across her face. “You might, uh—”

Mattie snorted, sinking into a squat beside the water barrel sitting on the edge of the hotel porch. “Draw some attention?”

“Just a little,” Flora agreed. She hesitated, then untied the red bandana from her neck and held it out. “Here, sunshine. Your lip is bleeding again.”

“Mattie,” she corrected, gratefully accepting the piece of cloth. She realized Flora was staring at her after a second. “My name’s Mattie.”

“Mattie,” Flora said slowly, like she was testing the weight on her tongue. “It suits you.”

She looked up, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. Flora was already walking away, her boots clunking softly across the wood.

Mattie exhaled and pressed the bandana to her mouth. It smelled like clean linen and something slightly floral.

She closed her eye and leaned her head against the barrel, breathing in the scent of water-soaked wood. Her face throbbed, the pressure almost unbearable around her eye socket.

Someone was humming nearby, the tune fading in and out. A horse walked past on the street, its hooves thudding against the packed dirt road.

Mattie didn’t realize she’d dozed off until someone touched her shoulder. She jerked away, her hand shooting to her knife, but it was just Flora.

She pushed unsteadily to her feet. “We good?”

“Kinda. They only had one room left,” Flora said, trading a key and the remaining coins for her bandana. “You alright with sharing for the night?”

Mattie shrugged one shoulder. “If you wanted me dead, you’ve had a few chances.”

“And we’ve already established you have nothing worth robbing,” Flora joked, moving toward the hotel entrance.

“That too,” she said dryly, tipping her hat over her face as they passed the front desk and climbed a creaky set of stairs.

The room was surprisingly spacious, with a lit hearth and two neatly made beds.

Flora opened the window while Mattie tossed her hat onto the closest bed and went over to the washstand.

She pulled a towel from the rack and poured water into the basin, wincing when she caught sight of her reflection. Shit.

Flora was watching her when she turned around, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “That’s looking pretty bad.���

“Feels worse,” Mattie muttered, sitting on her bed and balancing the basin on her lap.

She wet the cloth, pausing when Flora stepped in front of her and touched her wrist.

“Let me help you with that,” she offered softly, waiting until Mattie gave a terse nod before sliding the cloth from her hand.

Flora retrieved the chair from the corner of the room and sat down, shifting forward until her knee bumped into her thigh. Mattie tensed when she grasped her chin, her fingers cool against her overheated skin.

“So, ‘peaceful evening,’ huh,” Flora said, dabbing the cloth against her lip. “I hate to see when you really let loose.”

“I doubt you could handle it,” Mattie said more airily than she felt, her eye darting to Flora’s face when she laughed.

“Oh, I think what I can handle would surprise you,” she said lightly, her fingertips sliding across Mattie’s jaw as she turned her face—the pale imitation of a tender touch.

“Why’re you helpin’ me so much?” Mattie demanded, feeling suddenly defensive.

Flora glanced at her through her lashes, a ghost of a smile on her lips. “Maybe I have a soft spot for underdogs.”

She bristled. “I’m not a charity case.”

“And I’m not your enemy,” Flora said quietly, her thumb resting on the soft underside of Mattie’s chin. “Besides, everyone needs a little help now and then—even tough cowboys like you.”

Flora dipped the cloth in the basin and ran the cloth over her swollen cheek, the motion achingly gentle—and Mattie abruptly realized the answer to her own question.

Kind. Flora was helping her because she was kind.

Mattie shot Flora a subtle glance, her eye moving from the furrow of concentration between her brows to the soft curve of her face.

Flora lifted her arm to inspect the cuts left behind from the broken glass, the motion causing Mattie’s knuckles to skim against her shirt.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, followed by the soft patter of raindrops against the window. A gust of wind fluttered the curtains, filling the room with the scent of rain.

“There,” Flora said after securing a makeshift bandage over the deepest cut, sitting back in the chair as she surveyed her handiwork. “Good as new.”

“Just about,” Mattie said, cradling her arm to her chest. She hunched in on herself when Flora smiled, the skin at the corner of her eyes crinkling. “What?”

“You aren’t so tough, are you? You just need someone to look after you.”

“Yeah yeah,” Mattie muttered, her cheeks warming. She picked at a thread on her pants as Flora stood and stretched her arms over her head. “Hey, uh…”

Flora looked at her, letting her arms drop to her sides.

“Thank you.” Her eye darted to Flora and away again. “For everythin’.”

Mattie stared fixedly at the peeling wallpaper, but she could still feel Flora’s smile. “You’re welcome.”

_________

Mattie woke early the next morning, her entire face aching.

She stared blearily at the ceiling, breathing through the pain for a few minutes before sitting up and pulling on her boots.

It was still dark out, the only light coming from the dying embers of the fire. Mattie put on her hat, glancing at where Flora was sprawled across the other bed. For a moment, she thought about leaving her.

The impulse faded as quickly as it had come. It would’ve been a shit way to repay her kindness.

“Flora,” she said quietly, touching her shoulder. Flora sat up, instantly—enviably—awake. “We should go before the sun is up.”

They left the hotel a few minutes later and retrieved their horses from the hitching post in front of the saloon, following the road northeast until the town had disappeared behind them.

The ground was still wet from the rain, mud splattering onto their boots while they rode and a cool breeze ruffling their hair.

When the town was several miles behind them, they paused beside a river to refill their canteens while the first glint of sunlight pressed through the trees.

“Your horse is beautiful,” Flora said, shaking her hair loose from its ties and redoing her braids. “She seems so sweet.”

“Looks can be deceivin’,” Mattie said with a snort, glancing at where June was drinking from the river. “Tamin’ her cost me a sprained ankle and two cracked ribs. June’s a feisty one.”

“Just like her rider,” Flora teased, grinning when Mattie scoffed. She swept her braids over her shoulder and nodded at her horse. “Meanwhile, Bandit would gladly sell my soul for a peppermint.”

Mattie released a startled laugh. “Everyone has their price.”

“Oh! Speaking of...” Flora rummaged in her saddle bag and tossed Mattie a small sack. “Your cut.”

“My cut?” Mattie frowned and opened the bag, nearly choking when she saw the contents. “Where the hell you get this?”

“From the saloon,” Flora said innocently, her eyes shining. “I took the liberty of robbing the place blind after the fight broke out.”

Mattie gaped at her. “But why are you givin’ me half your share?”

“Because you started the fight.”

“You are somethin’ else,” Mattie said, shaking her head and stowing the money in her saddle bags. “How’d you get so good at stealin’, anyways?”

“Lots of practice,” Flora said, looking pleased as punch. She pulled a cigarette from her pocket and lit it, inhaling deeply. “Your brand of chaos isn’t half bad either.”

Warmth flooded her cheeks. Matie retrieved a cigarette too, more for something to do with her hands than because she wanted a smoke.

She put the cigarette between her lips and patted her pockets for a match before abruptly remembering the previous day.  

“Goddammit,” she sighed, shaking her head when Flora looked at her questioningly. “I meant to pick up matches in town, but then—”

“You picked a fight instead?”

“Well—yes, but—” Mattie smiled winningly, the cigarette still between her lips. “These things happen.”

“For some more than others, I imagine,” she laughed, exhaling a cloud of smoke from the side of her mouth. “Come here.”

Flora leaned forward, tilting up her face so the ends of their cigarettes touched. Her eyes flickered up for a breath, the light catching on her face.

Mattie had spent time in Arizona before realizing how much she’d preferred the plains and forests to the unyielding heat of a semi-desert, but the land out there had been something special.

The ring of color around Flora’s pupil was the exact same shade as the rocks had been in the soft light of morning, a richness and depth of color that faded into the same warm tones found in coffee or the earth.

And then Flora straightened, leaving Mattie to take a deep, shaky drag of her cigarette.

She held the smoke in her lungs before releasing it through her nose. “So, where’re you headed next?”

“I was thinking of going to a town about twenty miles north of here,” Flora said, flicking cinders from the end of her cigarette.

“I know the place,” Mattie said, cutting her eye to the side. “It’s more of a proper city than this dump was.”

“Exactly.” Flora grinned, propping a hand on her hip. “Lots of places for folks to drop some money or lose some valuables.”

Mattie chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure.”

“What about you?” Flora asked once they’d finished their cigarettes and had mounted their horses. “More bar fights in your future?”

“Not for the time bein,’ no,” Mattie said, leaning down to stroke June’s neck. “I was plannin’ on headin’ north too. You know, if you don’t mind ridin’ together for a bit.”

“That depends.” Flora tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You always this much trouble?”

“Sometimes,” Mattie admitted, leaning forward in the saddle. “But I can usually make it worth your while.”

“Somehow I don’t doubt it,” Flora said, her smile as bright as the new day. “Lead on, sunshine.”

Mattie ducked her head to hide her own smile, facing the horizon.

Together, they rode towards it.

[newpathwrites]

Arms Wide Open - Chapter 2

Din should refuse.  He was going to refuse.  How would he keep himself from looking like a fool over an entire evening with you?  And then there was the issue of the helmet…

While he was busy formulating a response to let you down easy, Grogu took the decision out of his hands, jumping directly into your arms without warning and nodding vigorously in the affirmative.

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Summary: An enjoyable evening gives way to a surprise.

Notes: All of my stories have some ace and aro spectrum representation, and while it won’t be a primary focus of this story, those who follow my writing for this reason should know Din is meant to be greysexual/greyromantic in this story.  He’s clearly experiencing an immediate attraction to this person, and it’s surprising him a lot because he hasn’t felt that draw very often in his life.  Hence my favorite - awkward Din.

Warnings: Some mildly spicy inner monologue.

Word count: 1.5k

Read on AO3

________________________________________

You exited the shop feeling light, maybe even a bit giddy.  It had been a long time since you’d found yourself in such a girlish state.

Your mind was filled with questions. 

Of course you wondered why a Mandalorian was residing in Nevarro given the recent news that Mandalore had been reclaimed, how he came to garner such respect from the locals, and by what circumstances he became caretaker to such an unusual child…

But more importantly - 

How old was he?  What did he look like?  And was he single?

You’d have to ask one of your coworkers tomorrow what they knew about him - make sure he was neither some young buck nor an elderly man under there… and definitively unattached… before you considered getting to know him with certain intentions in mind.

But as fate would have it, interrogating your colleagues would be unnecessary.

“Flora?”

Oh, that voice.  You’d be dreaming about it tonight.

You whirled around to face the subject of your musings and his tiny ward, trying hard to keep the delighted smile from your face.  Maybe he felt it, too.

“Yes?”

He stood awkwardly, fumbling with his posture as he stumbled a bit with his words, but regardless, he was absolutely resplendent, the Nevarro sunset reflecting beautifully off of his armor.  And the physique which was more obvious as he stood just before you… wow…

“Well, uhhh… Grogu… and I…  If you’re not in a rush, we’d love… uhmmm… like… to show you around…”

Oh, you could sense it clearly now.  He liked you, too.

You’d never felt that you were much to look at, especially as the fine lines settled around your eyes and grays peppered your hair.  But this man was drawn to something about you, nonetheless… and you were not going to turn him down.

You smiled broadly.

“I would love that.”

—-------------------------------------

Din relaxed quite a bit as you walked around the town center together.  He was definitely in his element here.

While he focused more on the practical, showing you where to purchase all of the basic necessities and find the public facilities, Grogu was on a mission to introduce you to the best dining and sweet treats.  He toddled in front of you, pointing you toward each destination as you followed behind, feigning excitement at each and every one.

Din finally turned to you as you slowly meandered toward the open-air cafe under Grogu’s guidance to engage in real conversation.  “Thank you for humoring him,” he said sincerely.  “He’s having the time of his life right now.  I’m not nearly so patient.”

“Oh, it’s my pleasure,” you replied.  “He’s a very sweet child… though I think that blue cookie is probably melting in my pocket.”

Din huffed.  “Sorry about that.  It does wash out - don’t ask me how I know…”

“I can only imagine,” you responded lightly.

“Best if you don’t...” he deadpanned.

You laughed out loud at that, and Din thought it might be the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

Nobody ever thought his dry humor was actually funny.  How were you so different?

“Hey,” you said, knocking his shoulder with your own.  “I still feel like I owe you.  Could I cook you dinner?  I love cooking, and opportunities to make a meal for friends are far and few between these days.”

Din should refuse.  He was going to refuse.  How would he keep himself from looking like a fool over an entire evening with you?  And then there was the issue of the helmet…

While he was busy formulating a response to let you down easy, Grogu took the decision out of his hands, jumping directly into your arms without warning and nodding vigorously in the affirmative.

And once Din heard your joyous laugh in response, he couldn’t imagine saying ‘no’.

It didn’t even register that you’d just witnessed Grogu’s force jump…

—---------------------------

In the end, you’d all made your way to Din’s cabin, which was in relatively close proximity to your own, as you remembered that you’d not yet unpacked most of your dishes and utensils.

His place was remarkably modest and simple, though he’d clearly put in an effort to provide the comforts needed for a child.  Grogu’s artwork decorated many of the walls, and you spied a few toys and other knick-knacks on the porch and in the living area.

Din had admitted apologetically as you looked through his meager kitchen cabinets that he wasn’t much of a cook and had a bare minimum of supplies at the ready.

“Not to worry, Din,” you’d reassured him, with a hand to his shoulder.  Gosh, you touched him so easily.  “I can still put together something decent, I’m sure.  And I can teach you a few things, too… if you want…”

Your offer may have been a mistake - except no, it definitely was not.  You nearly died when he came to stand beside you, peeling off his gloves and washing his hands in the kitchen sink.  Gods, what would happen if you ever saw the rest of him?

I’m a grown woman, you reminded yourself as you regained some of your composure, and I can handle a man’s attractive hands.

All in all, it went very well.  Din was so earnest in his desire to learn, probably to provide his child with more satisfying food options, that you couldn’t help but admire his effort even as he fumbled through much of what you were trying to teach him.  It was rather endearing, honestly.

And he finally, truly relaxed, falling into comfortable conversation as you worked.

He told you about his recent involvement in the retaking of Mandalore, why he was here and not there, and about his under-the-radar work with the New Republic, an endeavor at its root meant to serve his good friend and leader of his planet, none other than the Mandalorian princess, Bo-Katan Kryze.  

Maker, this man had a galactic presence - and here you were standing in his kitchen with his child hanging off your leg teaching him how to season grains.

You told him about your own decidely less exciting adventures in agricultural science, too.  For several years, you’d been an academic, teaching and doing research at several of the core universities after earning your doctorate.  But you had longed to be back in the field, doing the hands-on work, and that’s how you found yourself here in Nevarro, leading Greef Karga’s new initiative to promote homegrown agriculture on the arid planet.

Holy kriff, Din thought.  She may be too smart for me.

—-------------------------------------

You waited with baited breath for the moment Din would take off the helmet as you all sat down at the table to eat.  You were dying to know what he looked like.  Thank the Maker you’d been blessed with patience.

Din hesitated for just a breath with one hand grasping the lower edge, like he was thinking it through, before lifting the helmet only just past his chin to take a bite. 

What?

Grogu seemed unbothered - this was apparently typical mealtime behavior.  

Was the helmet a whole thing?  Was he not allowed to remove it?  Hmmm… you’d have to do some research about Mandalorian customs.

No matter - you didn’t really care how he looked.  And anyway, the stubbly beard you’d glimpsed was patched with gray, confirming at least that he was probably age-appropriate.  That was enough for now. 

You pushed those thoughts out of your mind and enjoyed your meal, keeping your eyes averted as much as you could to respect this boundary, even if it didn’t make any sense.

—-------------------------------------

Din noticed right away what you were doing - and it fostered a strange, contradictory feeling.  

He sort of wanted you to look - to see as much of him as he could allow you.  But at the same time… Stars, he was much more comfortable that you weren’t… and it was so much easier to relax and enjoy this very unexpected turn of events knowing that you had some inherent degree of respect for his creed.

In fact, he couldn’t remember such an enjoyable evening as this in the recent… or distant… past.  He could get used to it - but that was definitely putting the cart before the fathier.  Regardless, he really liked you, and it had been a very long time since he’d felt this kind of warm draw toward another person.

But an unexpected turn threatened to pop the little bubble of blissful companionship you’d fostered over the last few hours.

“Oh, what’s this?’

Din watched in slow motion as you noticed the metal gear knob that had been resting on the floor beside your chair and reached down to take it in your hand.  

Turning toward Grogu in no small amount of panic, he meant to warn him not to do the thing he was certainly about to do… right in front of you - a kind stranger… but a stranger still nonetheless.

But it was too late.

The knob flew out of your hand directly into that of his small son’s.

A collective gasp echoed around the table - Grogu as he realized his error, Din in abject panic, and you in delighted wonder.

Din couldn’t breath - this was all going to be over before it had even begun.  And what if you weren’t who you said you were?  

And then your mouth turned up into a smile.  

“I knew it…”

And the knob flew back into your outstretched hand.

—-------------------------------------

Next chapter

[shrimpricebowl]

ocs or something (stuff since... august??)

ive been thinking about making a proper illustration for them since all of these are just meant to conceptualize their relationships with others but. im Kinda Tired so maybe.. soon??? ive been wanting to share them for a while so here they are!

bglg.gngkjfm Refsheets and infodump!!! yay!!!!

nicknamed "petals," it was a pink eel lizard that was every citizen's friend and especially close with the city's iterator. it was constantly fed and taken care of by the ancients. also being dressed up during festivals, the blanket on its back kept changing and being embroidered to fit the occasion.

its frills and body were always painted cyan, while its face with yellow. its favorite food was squidcadas because of course it was

an inseparable trio of slugpups from gourmand’s clan who deviated from the path during migration and now work together to survive. they are nameless and don’t desire to be as they all swiftly move on to the next area to explore.

an iterator who nearly never shuts up about everything that is happening. cheerful yet pragmatic, he shares and obtains ideas and hints of the solution from other iterators. their overseers and broadcasts can go the farthest out of the group just for the sole purpose of keeping up to date with their neighbors.

crimson’s city is full of festivals and celebrations, naturally making it bustling and noisy especially at night. its citizens were close to each other and also mostly included crimson to create unique holograms such as fireworks from his overseers. they are also sometimes dressed; their antenna sometimes adorned with flowers or lights, and their cloak changed and designed to reflect the occasion. he also enjoyed rambling about whatever to the city's friend and being replied with it dozing off.

the oldest iterator and leader of the group. resourceful and strategic, they guide their group in making decisions about their communities’ states and welfares… when the ancients still existed. 

flora’s city is small but rich in greenery influenced by the surrounding environment. despite the abundance of resources flora’s can had, it eventually fell due to it not being maintained. the severe overgrowth caused many plants to cover the can and clog the pipes; gradually absorbing the water and causing slag to build up, frying the superstructure and collapsing

there are 2 more iterators in the group but im Still fixing them so!!!!! um...

their group resides in a very water-filled area. most if not all the regions they are located has water EVERYWHERE aside from flora's ...like imagine the pacific ocean but bigger and also walkable

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Male-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Hate For All Sinners

A/N - As promised, one for male-presenting folks. This is also on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53448742/chapters/135282199

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

FEM VERSION HERE

NON-BINARY / GN VERSION HERE

“Who’s that?” Lucifer asked, pointing you out to Charlie.

In truth, he would’ve likely asked that of the next person he saw. As Charlie’s father, Lucifer was trying desperately to show how interested he was in his daughter’s project, even if he was barely holding onto anything she said. It wasn’t that he was disinterested, or too ignorant to understand the situation, but rather that after spending so much time as a recluse, locked away in the protective space of his workshop where he wouldn’t have to see the sinners or the Hell he was responsible for creating, Lucifer could barely comprehend what was going on around him. He knew it was because he was depressed, but he was trying and he had to make Charlie see that, even if it meant feigning fits of hypomanic excitement.

Yet, Lucifer found himself genuinely… horrified by you. He had seen many types of Demon over the millennia. Typically, they tended to represent Earth’s animals, such as that annoyingly powerful Deer Demon, Alistair, whom Lucifer had met thanks to this very tour… not that Alistair was worth mentioning, piece of shit that he was, mingling with Lucifer’s daughter when he had no right to even breathe the same air as her-

Lucifer caught his snowballing thoughts, turning them back to you. You weren’t an animal Demon. There were other types of Demons of course, though Flora and Fauna were the most common; object Demons also existed, such as that rather famous one that people talked about, the TV Demon, V-something? Lucifer couldn’t remember his name. He didn’t watch Television… he didn’t do much of anything these days.

“Oh,” Charlie sidled over to you, wrapping her arm warmly around your shoulder as she corralled you towards her father, “Dad, this is (Y/N). He’s one of the hotel’s, uh, allies I guess, right (Y/N)?”

“That’s right, Sir,” You held out your hand for Lucifer, who was staring dumbly at you, uncertain what to make of you.

As the ruler of Hell, fuelled by angelic power, Lucifer could always read a Demon, or rather, he could read their strength. For example, he knew after only one meeting that the bartender, Husk was a strong Demon, though his power was clearly being dampened by a soul contract, whereas that little snake fellow Sir Pentious was rather weak, though he had potential if he could manage to claim even a few souls of his own, but you? You were entirely different.

First off, you didn’t resemble an animal, plant, or object… You were the most human-looking Demon that Lucifer had ever seen; frankly, he found that disturbing. Secondly, you didn’t seem to have much if any power. What was wrong with you? To come off as human with little demonic power… Well, if Lucifer didn’t know any better, he would guess that you weren’t a sinner at all, but you had to be. You were definitely dead; that much he could tell. And, you were in Hell.

Dead and in Hell - those were the only two qualifications for becoming a Demon, so why were you like this?

“Dad, are you listening?” Charlie said exasperatedly, clearly annoyed that Lucifer’s thoughts seemed to have trailed off once again.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Lucifer stated, staring at your hand which you had seemingly retracted when he wasn’t paying attention. Damnation! Now Charlie was going to think he had snubbed her friend on purpose.

“So, (Y/N) is another one of your patrons. That’s nice.”

“What? No. Dad, I just told you, (Y/N) has no interest in being redeemed.”

“Oh,” Lucifer looked you up and down disapprovingly. It figured. Even this non-Demon was looking for power in Hell, probably so you would finally be a killer worth bragging about – Honestly, what was the point? All sinners were the same. Greedy, destructive forces who wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left to break.

“Yep, he’s our only permanent resident who wants to help rehabilitate other souls. Isn’t that great? He helps with everything here, and he doesn’t ask for anything in return.”

“That’s not true,” You blushed at Charlie’s praise. “Your daughter is very generous, Sir. She lets me stay here rent-free.”

“And that’s all you want?” Lucifer asked suspiciously.

“Honestly? Yeah.”

Lucifer shook his head but didn’t argue. He didn’t want to know what your real motivations were. It was probably as simple as hoping for regular boons from the Princess of Hell; you were clearly just biding your time. Besides, if you didn’t want to redeem your soul, then you must be just like Alistair, a sadistic monster just waiting to see Demons repeatedly fail in their attempts at redemption.

Now that his curiosity was sated, Lucifer decided that he didn’t want to lay eyes on you again. You weren’t worth his time. Only Charlie was… Well, Charlie and Vaggie, because any woman his daughter loved was practically family to him. He was glad when the tour continued, leaving you behind to catch Nifty who was trying to pull a piece of fabric from Lucifer’s coat, muttering something about the ‘Ultimate bad boy.’

“Okay, I can get you the meeting,” Lucifer agreed, doing what he could to support Charlie’s dreams of saving her people, even though he didn’t think there were any redeeming qualities for any denizen of Hell.

It hurt him to tell Charlie that he wouldn’t be able to go with her to that lofty paradise, having been cast out; how he wished he could protect his daughter from those who carried out God’s will. Still, she never asked him for anything, and if this was what her heart most desired, he would do all in his power to help.

“Will you be okay?” He asked sombrely.

“I’ll be fine,” Charlie assured him, taking hold of his hands.

“That’s my girl.”

For a moment, it looked like Lucifer was done, but he paused, worried that this wasn’t enough to make up for the years he had been absent, leaving Charlie to fend for herself while he shut himself away.

“Is there anything else you need?”

Charlie couldn’t help but worry about her father. What would happen when he went back into isolation? He needed something to focus on, but… What was there for him when all of Hell was his prison?

She couldn’t help thinking about how little Lucifer thought of all the other citizens of Hell. If only he could see that they weren’t as terrible as he thought. Granted, they could be violent, and loud, definitely rambunctious, but these were his people, and he had to see that his gift of Free Will was a good thing, yet, if she said any of this, she was certain Lucifer would only laugh at her or tell her to get real while playfully pinching her cheek. There was no way that Lucifer would leave his home to hang out with any citizen of Hell.

Then it hit her. If Lucifer wouldn’t leave his manor to visit people, then people should be allowed to visit his manor. Or better yet, one person should be chosen to go and live with Lucifer so that he would learn just how good people could be, and Charlie knew just the person for the job.

“Actually, Dad, there is one more thing.”

“Name it,” Lucifer smiled, glad that his daughter wanted to ask things of him, as any normal child should want from their parents.

“I think it would be good for you to socialise, just a little bit.”

“Charlie,” Lucifer’s voice was strained at the thought of going anywhere else in Hell.

“I know,” Charlie reassured him, looking into his eyes; she looked so understanding that he relaxed slightly. Then, she continued in a more upbeat tone, “That’s why I think you should take (Y/N) to live with you, as your cleaner!”

She pounded her palm decidedly, much like a judge pounding her gavel.

“What? NO!” Lucifer sputtered.

You for your part, had seemingly been shocked into silence, watching the exchange uncertainly while Alistair grinned devilishly at you, and Angel Dust was holding in a snicker. Granted, you could have argued, but Charlie was stubborn, and she always had some kind of wild idea. Whatever she was thinking, you decided that you would go along with it; there was usually a method to her madness after all.

“It’s fine, Dad, (Y/N) doesn’t mind, right (Y/N)?”

You shrugged your shoulders passively, “I guess?”

“See? You should get to know your citizens, Dad. It will be good for you, I promise. They’re not all as bad as you think.”

Lucifer took one hard look at you. Honestly, he wished his daughter had picked the porn star or that psycho maid. You, as a very human-looking Demon, were a vicious reminder of his past mistakes. Still, he had told his daughter he would do anything for her, and he had already promised her a meeting with Heaven, and nothing could possibly be worse than that.

“Alright,” He agreed.

Then, he summoned a portal for you with the flick of his wrist.

“Good luck, kiddo.” He said to Charlie, and upon keeping a safe distance from you, he waited for you to step through the portal.

“Charlie, I’m assuming that you have a good reason for this,” You said before taking a step towards your newly appointed home, “Just call me if you need anything.”

With that, you were gone, followed closely (though not too closely) by Lucifer.

[admiralackbarssugarbaby]

smoke break

Pairing: Dio Morrissey x Shiv (Pu-239)

Summary: Shiv gets Dio a gift.

Rating: M

Contents/Warnings: fluff, 1 pet name used twice, kissing, tiniest allusion to sex, this is set in some vague nebulous time and place… don’t think about it too hard.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: This is for @morallyinept 's Flora & Fauna Challenge, which you can find the masterlist for here! I was reading through the Pu-239 fics on AO3 the other day, one of which featured these two, and they wouldn’t leave me alone after that. There is a bonus full moodboard at the bottom of the fic because I couldn’t resist!!

Enjoy! Feel free to let me know what you think. :D

When Shiv unlocks the door to their apartment, Dio is seated in his usual spot on the worn leather couch, booted feet propped up on the coffee table. He doesn’t look up at Shiv’s entrance, continuing to scroll through his phone.

This had become a common scene over the past year, and Shiv couldn’t be more glad for it.

“Are you going to continue gawking from the doorway like a fool, or are you going to come in?”

Despite the harsh needling, Shiv cracks a wide grin. He kicks the door closed. With one hand, he tosses his keys down on the coffee table, while he holds his other behind his back.

“Baby, I got something for you.”

Dio looks at up at him then, trying to feign disinterest. Still, Shiv knows he can’t resist the allure of a surprise.

“Close your eyes. Hold out your hand.”

Dio betrays himself with how quick he is to drop his phone onto the seat beside him and follow the orders. His tight black t-shirt bunches across his shoulders and chest and he holds out his open palm. Shiv notices the hole right below the collar of Dio’s shirt that means it’s actually his. The thought of all the points at which the two of them blend together warms something in Shiv’s chest and he hesitates in handing Dio his gift.

Dio cracks an eye open, wondering what’s happening. Shiv barks out a laugh at that.

“Aht! Eyes closed!”

Dio shuts his eye again, the ghost of a smile turning up the edge of his mouth.

“Impatient!” Even still, Shiv quickly places what he brought home into Dio’s hand.

Dio’s eyebrows furrow at the weight of what he’s been handed. He opens his eyes once more, blinking at the sight before him.

“What’s this?”

“It is cactus. It is pokey. Like someone else I know.”

Dio rolls his eyes, but cradles the little potted plant in both hands. He turns it back and forth, admiring how the colors of the leaves change from green at the very base of the plant to a deep purple-black. A couple of them are bent or missing but the plant is still pretty. The pot itself is plain. Grey ceramic, but purposefully roughened and chipped, to mimic the texture of broken concrete.

“Where did you get this, anyway?”

“Hardware store. Was on sale!” Shiv boasts, squaring his shoulders. Surely Dio had to be proud of his ability to find something cool for a bargain.

Dio gives Shiv a look as he toes off his shoes and flops down on the couch next to him.

“Where are we gonna put this thing?”

At that question, Shiv pouts a little, shoulders drooping. “I thought you might like it for… for the color. But I can take it back…” He goes to reach for the plant, but Dio pulls it back out of his reach.

“No, it’s mine.” Shiv cocks a brow at him, and Dio begins to feel the heat of embarrassment prickle at the back of his neck. “I never said I didn’t like it. I simply asked where to put it.”

They both consider the room a moment. Their dingy little apartment wasn’t very conducive to supporting plant life. Still, there was one window at the side of the living room that let in a decent amount of light for most of the day. The sill was home to a couple crystals and an incense burner in the shape of a dragon. Shiv seemed to consider it first, gently taking the little succulent with him over to the window. He rearranges what is already there, being sure that the crystals would still catch the light at the same time the plant did, and that the dragon was faced away from the floral addition. That way the smoke that would come billowing from the dragon’s mouth wouldn’t hit the plant when one of them were inevitably dumb enough to forget and light it.

Dio watches as Shiv carefully shuffles things around at the window. For as tough as he liked to make himself seem, Shiv was a gooey ball of feelings wrapped in a red leather jacket. He played fast and loose with his own safety sometimes, but he always took care of Dio’s things, and Dio himself, and just the thought of that made Dio’s heart flutter.

“There!” Shiv turns and sweeps a hand out to display his work. Suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed, Dio can’t help but smile and Shiv quickly rejoins him on the couch. He sits a little closer this time, leaning over to butt his head into Dio’s shoulder. Dio nudges him in return.

They’re both quiet a moment, before Dio shifts a little, turning to face the other. Shiv lifts his head at the movement, brows drawn together in question. Dio lifts a hand, tracing his fingers over the line of Shiv’s jaw, catching on the hint of stubble that had shown up since he shaved yesterday. Shiv’s long, dark eyelashes flutter at the feeling.

He leans into Dio’s touch, murmuring a quiet “Baby…”, which Dio hushes gently before leaning close to press their mouths together.

Despite being rather chaste, the feeling is like electricity running down Shiv’s spine, a moan ripping from loose from his chest near instantaneously. He grabs a fistful of the shirt that Dio wears, wrapping the other hand around the back of Dio’s neck.

Shiv swipes his tongue out against Dio’s lips. Dio’s quick to reciprocate, humming when their tongues slide against each other.

They stay locked together until the need for air wins out, then they part, panting. Shiv rests his forehead against Dio’s own. He gives Dio’s neck a squeeze before sliding his hand over to cradle the other’s jaw. He thumbs at the black earring danging from Dio’s earlobe.

He seems to startle a little when he realizes how tight he’s gripping the shirt fabric in his other fist. He pulles back a little, letting go of the shirt, and smoothing it back down against Dio’s chest. Shiv scoffs along with the action, amused at his own thoughts, which slip out unbidden at the end of his sharp laughter.

“I like seeing you wear my shirt.”

The comment strokes at Dio’s ego in just the right way, and he smirks, pressing closer to the hand still on his chest.

“But, you would look much better without it.”

Dio is caught off guard and any thought of further seduction cracks under the awful, incredible pick-up line. He tosses his head with a laugh, which turns into a startled yelp as Shiv lunges at him, pressing his warm mouth to the exposed column of Dio’s throat. Shiv presses Dio further down into the couch, wood and leather squeaking with their movements. They continue to giggle, even as more and more sighs and moans get mixed into the noise, the small apartment becoming filled with the sounds of joy and pleasure.

…

Dio never actually says “thank you”. Even though some of his rough edges have been filed down since they met, as hard to believe as it is at times, vocalizing basic manners is something Dio still struggles with. Instead, he shows his gratitude in other ways.

This time it manifests a couple days later when, much to Shiv’s delight, a bunch of red and black roses, a half dozen each, appear on the windowsill in a crystal vase next to the succulent.

Dio can be just as prickly as the plant that he had been gifted, but Shiv thinks his spines are just as much a ruse for Dio as they are for the cactus. With just a little digging, he is pure sweetness beneath the surface.

They really are two peas in a pod.

...

[neteyamb]

ashes to ashes: chapter one

pairing: loak x f!omatikaya reader

summary: as a healer, y/n had taken an oath to treat every patient with their best interests in mind. this hadn’t been a problem, until loak’s petty injuries become a routine. she has to swallow her pride and feign concern, feign kindness, and face the ugly hate that has been brewing between them for years. 

tags: enemies to lovers, best friend kiri because i love her, eventual angst

word count: 1.1k

notes: i’m desperate for more loak x reader slowburns on this app. this is my first fic! (i gotta use this english degree for something lmfao) i cant do summaries but i want him so bad you guys

⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･

billie bossa nova: love when it makes you lose your bearings / it might be more of an obsession / you better lock your phone / and look at me when you're alone / won't take a lot to get you goin' / i'm sorry if it's torture though / that heavy breathin' on the floor / i’m yours, i'm yours 

nova – a star that suddenly increases its light output tremendously and then fades away to its former obsurity

you had known loak since you were four years old. he would scoff at your small achievements and be quick to retort with one of his own. if you climbed a particularly intimidating tree, he’d climb higher. if you had perfect aim with your bow, he’d rush to shoot at your target first. he antagonized you at every corner, and you quickly grew to hate him in return. his taunting voice was acid in your ears as it ghosted down your spine. when the two of you were twelve, you had gotten into your first physical fight. he yanked at your tail, and you did the same to his queue. by the time jake had found you, you were both covered in dirt and had tumbleweeds for hair, leaves sticking out haphazardly. you had gotten chewed out good for that, all the while sharing scowls with eachother across the room. now, you weren’t an ungracious woman; it didn’t matter who started it, but you’ll be damned if he gets the last blow.

at nineteen, loak’s shoulders had filled out and his scrawny frame became a sinewy, looming presence. you two would orbit around eachother, clashing periodically–inevitably. it wasn’t pretty, it was rather captivating like a car crash; addicting to watch the insults bounce off eachother like sparks. it was jarring to others at first; the way your usually reserved and civil manner morphed rapidly into something unruly, uncontainable. you were sure he got satisfaction from this, sometimes catching the twitch of a mocking, almost-smile at the corner of his lips at the thought of you losing face infront of a crowd. you had attempted to reel yourself in on countless occasions, but his teasing, expectant gaze was all the more infuriating. one day, you swore to yourself, you’d wipe the gratification off his face and hold it hostage as your own. 

✶✶✶✶

you rose from your hammock in the early hours of the morning. healing the injured and unwell, waiting on their every ailment with eager and tender hands, didn’t necessarily strike you as a career path you wanted to go down, but the cards were dealt that way; the RDA was steadily seeping into the edges of omatikayan territory, and there was a pressing need for helping hands on the sidelines. as an apprentice healer, you mainly spent your time preparing various ointments for the warriors on the frontlines. this meant you first had to gather the ingredients, most of which grew deeper in the forest than most bothered to venture to. kiri was an exception, spending her early teenage years finding solace in branches far from hometree. it naturally became a routine for you to head out with her in search of plants with healing properties. she would watch you intently over your shoulder, smiling quietly to herself as you handled the flora with delicate, yet expert hands. as the dawn bled into the clouds above, you headed over to her hut, now knowing the path like the back of your hand. 

“y/n!” her face split into a grin when she saw you standing in the entrance. you felt your lips lilt to match the expression of your best friend. you notioned wordlessly to the gathering basket in your arms, taking care not to startle tuk from her sleep. as you walked the forest floor together, you easily slipped into animated conversation about your elders. “i actually think maiya’s got it out for me, she rarely lets me work with the wounded. i’ve gotta be on my best behaviour so she doesn’t rip me a new one.” kiri snorted, bumping your shoulder lightly. “keep your chin up, maybe she’s waiting for your prince charming to waltz in with a missing arm.” once you reached your destination, you crouched to your knees, resting on the balls of your feet to harvest the plants.

satisfied with your diverse collection of leaves and flowers, you return to hometree just before noon, making a beeline towards the healing hut. maiya greets you with her lips pressed into a thin line, humming while you begin to sort your pile on the counter. as you grind the juice from a large alocasia leaf with a wooden mortar and pestle, loak enters the hut with his ears low and hands at his side, clasping them repeatedly like he didn’t know what to do with them. you offer him a brief frown and peer over at your elder, who decidedly doesn’t pause her task for his unceremonious entrance. you place the pestle down and bite your tongue, begrudgingly motioning for him to sit on the mat. his shoulder carries a small gash, and you notice there is a bruise forming on his ribcage. “fell down a hill. fix it up.” he bristles, feeling your heavy gaze roam his body. you wanted to laugh in his face, jeer at his crude appearance, but without this position you’d be lost and unknown to the clan. loak, on the other hand, had his duties made clear from birth–handed to him. you envied the clarity of his future. 

loak watches as you gingerly apply the medicine, stomach knotting at the feeling of your slender hands on his shoulder. your eyes burn his skin, and he restlessly fidgets in his seat. “stop moving, jackass,” you snap quietly. he hates it, hates you. he hates that you hate him. when you first met, his eyes chased after your soft hair and his ears flicked at your melodic voice. all those years ago, he tried to impress you with his skills, and you took it as a competition. it was frustrating, but his pride wouldn’t allow him to admit to the initial intention behind his actions. had you not seen him as a worthy partner? was it not painfully obvious, you’d wait for him to say it? well, bullet dodged. he didn’t consider you someone to impress anymore. instead, he relished in the igniting glare you’d give him as he casually whispered provocations in your ear. loak wanted you to feel bothered, threatened by his effortless skill.

you feel his eyes crawling on your skin as you uncomfortably shift closer to apply the cream to his ribs. your fingers dance across his torso, and he grits his teeth in irritation. once you’ve finished, you’re quick to put space between yourself and him. his mouth twists as he looks up at you, about to say something, before he seems to change his mind. he abruptly stands with hands in fists, pivoting hard on his heel out of the hut without a word.

⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧ ‧͙⁺˚*･

notes: first chapter done, hope yall like it!

[the-torchwood-archive]

Hidden by Steven Savile

Originally released in 2008, narrated by Naoko Mori. This story is set in early 2008, between Combat and Captain Jack Harkness.

Chapter One

Owen Harper sat with his feet up on his work station, feigning deep thought. He rolled a biro across his knuckles, catching it in his palm and sending it back again, backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards. On its third pass, the pen caught his thumb and spun away, bouncing off the edge of his keyboard. It rattled on the corner of the desk and rolled across the floor, stopping beneath Toshiko Sato's chair.

His gaze lifted from the floor to Tosh's shoe. Her foot tapped out the rhythm of some unheard tune. From the black leather, his eyes moved slowly up the curve of her calf to the trailing edge of the white coat, and finally over her shoulder to the television.

The image on the small screen was brutal. A helicopter, a black Gazelle, spinning out of control against a molten sky. The tail fin blazed, leaving a flame wake trailing through the air behind it. The image feed cut seconds before the Gazelle became a fireball, replacing death with the four faces of the damned. The pilot and his three passengers. Mid twenties, utterly normal. They looked happy in the photos. Proud. He wondered what expressions they would've worn had they known those photographs would become their death masks.

A map of the Brecon Beacons followed a moment later. An angry red smear marked the place where the helicopter had gone down, just north of Merthyr Tydfil.

"Turn it up."

"What?" Tosh said, not looking up from the algorithm she had been testing out for the last six hours. Her eyes were red-rimmed. She hadn't slept. "Bloody hell. That's just brutal. What a way to go." She craned her neck to see the screen. The cameras had returned to the anaemic face of the newscaster in the studio. The woman tried to look like she wasn't just reporting another day's tragedy, no different from the ones she had read out that morning, and the evening before, and every day for the last week.

"It has been confirmed that the pilot and all three passengers were Environment Agency representatives returning from the site of a recent archaeological find in Breconshire. Investigators are on the scene, but it is still too early to say with any certainty the cause of the crash. This fresh tragedy comes less than a day after the death of Sir Giles Walbridge, head of the Environment Agency's species recovery program dedicated to the protection of rare flora and fauna." The newscaster paused for a beat, as the faces of the victims returned to the screen. 

Tosh muted the sound.

"One accident's unfortunate. Two…well, that's just careless." Owen said.

The sound of footsteps echoed down from the metal gantry. A moment later, the hydraulics of the blast door's mechanism steamed and hissed. Two sets of footsteps this time. Captain Jack Harkness entered the Hub. He grasped the rails and half-bounced, half-slid down the short flight of metal steps. Ianto Jones followed three paces behind him, balancing a sheaf of papers and a styrofoam coffee cup as he negotiated the stairs.

Ianto sank into the ratty couch beneath the grubby Torchwood sign set in the ceramic wall, while Jack shrugged off his military greatcoat. "Give me the goods news first, Tosh," he called, draping it over the balcony rail. He came around to stand behind her at the bank of computers. "Looking good, looking good..." he said, approvingly, as a flurry of shapes and forms flitted across the monitors. None of them stayed on screen long enough to focus on. "So, is it like me on a Friday night, all dressed up with nowhe..." Jack broke off mid-word, seeing the faces on the screen. "Oh no. No, no no no!"

"Jack? Jack, what's wrong?" Tosh said. Her chair groaned as she leaned back in it.

The threads of colour drained from his face. Jack Harkness leaned forward, gripping the back of her chair with one hand. "I know her." Jack said, pointing up at the second face on the screen with the other.

The rest of the story is here:

Google Docs: Hidden by Steven Savile

[ven0ms]

☾ ₊ ⊹  •  chasing the intoxicating thrill of fame , the ache of solitude softened only by dim lights and whispered melodies , the familiar tug of self - doubt settling in like an old friend , the fleeting comfort of a sip of bourbon as dusk falls , the guarded glint of vulnerability hidden beneath dark eyes , the reckless pursuit of freedom against the weight of expectation .

*   biography   ,   pinterest   ,   spotify   .

full name , valeria waseskwan white bear . nickname(s) , val . name meaning , to be strong . age , twenty9 . date of birth , november 19th . place of birth , rocky boy's reservation , montana . ethnicity , chippewa cree , black , white . gender , cis woman . pronouns , she / her . sexual orientation , bisexual , but has only ever been with and dated women . religion , christian , non - practicing . occupation , musician . education level , high school diploma . label(s) , the philophobic , the spitfire , the rags to riches , the prima donna , the opaque . positive traits , dauntless , authentic , tenacious . negative traits , frivolous , impulsive , guarded .    

faceclaim , khadijha red thunder . career / voice claim , jorja smith . hair color , ever changing , currently darker honey blonde . hair style , every changing , currently natural and curly . eye color , brown . height , 5'9" . build , slim , athletic . tattoos , n/a . piercings , single ear piercings . clothing style , feminine , edgy , always trying new things , x x x . distinguishing characteristics , high cheekbones , statuesque figure , sharp tongue . signature scent , costa brazil aroma , melts into the skin and offers up white jungle flora , brazil orange oil , pink pepper , and grapefruit zest with opposite notes of bourbon , vetiver , musk , and patchouli .    

diagnosed disorders , anxiety , depression , cptsd . physical disorders , n/a . allergies , dogs , cats , pollen . sleeping habits , stays up late , wakes up early , an attempt at a sense of control . eating habits , limited , snacks throughout the day , never completes an entire meal . sociability , does not like to physically be alone , but appears to not actively enjoy being around people due to consistent negative outlooks . addictions , iced flat whites with oat milk , instagram live , private and secret tiktok account . alcohol use , regularly , if not daily due to lifestyle . drug use , whenever available , multiple times a week . cigarette use , rarely , does not like the taste lingering .    

likes , the moment when the first note strikes the air , filling the silence with a euphony of possibilities / the solitude of midnight , when the world falls silent , when most authentic thoughts spill onto the page , raw and unfiltered / the wild joy in unpredictability , in chasing the next adventure , fueling an insatiable spirit . dislikes , the chains of expectation that weigh heavy on damaged spirit , resisting the urge to fit into unspoken molds / the oppressive quietness that only reminds one of a suffocated childhood , now feels like an enemy in which their only weapon is emptiness and a memory of a house devoid of warmth / showcasing a true self , gambling with vulnerability in a world built off of facades , feigned authenticity illicit the same reaction regardless of earnestness .    

fears , the specter of inadequacy looms overhead , stifling in an attempt to get one to misstep , unraveling everything that's been built to escape the stranded youth / fading into obscurity keeps one always on alert , chasing fame not only for the recognition but to ensure name lingers on others lips far after the legacy retires / the idea of becoming stagnant , of losing ones drive to look better , do better , be better , feels as if death was enveloping a soul , complacency robs one of the only fire that's stayed lit . habits , pen is put to paper , ritual set in stone that helps ease the habitual mundane routine of the day , previous chaos ruminating can finally halt / when the stress and feelings begin to overwhelm ones internal system , a retreat into solitude comes next , craving the comfort of ones own company over the repetitiveness of half - strangers / earnest nature comes out when it relates to collecting mementos , significant moments often captured in photos from others , but concerts tickets , notes , and trinkets serve as reminders of how one has been shaped .    

mother , mariana rojas ( 48 ) . father , francis white bear ( 50 ) . sibling(s) , sebastian ( thirty - two ) . significant other(s) , has not been in a long - term relationship . children , n/a . pets , n/a . primary vice , pride . primary virtue , diligence . weather , overcast , slight wind , mid 60°s . color , burgundy . music , r&b , soul , pop . movie , the hunger games trilogy . book , the giver , lois lowry . sport , tennis . beverage , mimosa . food , any fine dining , no preferred nationality . animal , elephant . season , middle of autumn , when most of the leaves have turned .