#fic: soaring higher

[rainwingmarvel7]

Lord Kaleb Dormaire and his children by Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, Ser Tristan Dormaire and Princess Therese Targaryen

I recently got this wonderful commission of my HoTD OCs from my upcoming fic, Soaring Higher, done by the lovely @murmel-malt, and I’m so incredibly in love with it!❤️

[ambrosiagoldfish]

Can you write more Adam fics plz there so freaking good

Benefit of the Doubt PT.2

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Viewer discretion is advised

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff to Angst to comfort, General Adam TW’s, Reader lowkey-highkey has a complex about being loved, Panic attack (I’m not even sure if this is correct term or not), Adam is afraid of heights (makes sense in story) This is set way before the show, and Gn! Reader (Y/n is once again not used lol)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Request Box: Open

Word count: 3136

A/N: Hi! I’d like to Thank you all for the love and support on Part 1! It means a lot that you all enjoyed it as I loved writing it! I’d also like to apologize for this being a week late, I honestly had 0 idea on how to start this one and then a bunch of stuff in my life happened, so it was a mess.

So as an apology I tried to make this one longer than the first! (I seemed to go a little overboard but it’s fine)

Anyways I hope you all enjoy part 2 to ‘Benefit of the doubt’ and as always, if you do, please tell me if want another part in replies/requests/DM’s!

Proofread but of course could have missed something

Tags: @tired-of-life-86

To think love could feel this good.

You were made for it, to give it, receive it… You’ve waited your entire existence for this love, This closeness. It doesn’t even feel real now, even as you’re walking down the golden lined streets of heaven with his arm wrapped around you, all while you’ve been showing him around. The best places to eat, entertainment, or just a nice park. You made sure to show him all of it.

He kept his wings tucked to his sides, the gold contrasting with the white of his robe. The feathers at first glance looked sharp, but now, being so close to him, you could see each of them individually and how soft they must be.

“Hey Sweetcheeks, my eyes are up here”

You jump slightly “Sorry… Adam.” You avert your eyes away from him and focus them in front of you.

Adam laughed “I didn’t say you had to fuxkin’ to stop”

His wings truly were beautiful. It was hard to keep your eyes off them. Adam had only got to heaven recently, it made you wonder if he had the chance to use them yet. You remember when you were first created, wings took forever to get used to. You crashed and fell so many times before you figured out how to use them

Properly.

“Ok seriously, you keep staring, what the fxck is up with you?”

“It’s nothing, just…. Have you tried out your wings yet?”

“Uh, yeah totally, they’re rad as hell” Adam’s voice drifted off, the LED eyes of his mask looking away from you as you both walked. Was he… lying? Why would he lie?

You quickly walked in front of Adam, leaving his warm embrace, gently you took his hands as your wings picked you off the ground. The gust of wind with each flap softly blew around you.

“Well, come on, it will be faster than walking.” Your voice was soft and airy. Slowly, so very slowly, you lifted yourself higher from the ground, Adam’s hands locked firmly in yours, as he was pulled with you in the air.

“W-Wait a- shit- Wait a- motherfuxking second“ Adam yelled strand after strand of curses as you both lifted further and further into the air. His body flailed and his legs kicked against nothing. You pull him to you, his arms quickly snake around your waist, holding on for his dear After-life.

“Adam… did you lie to me?” Your voice was still so soft, so calm, so sweet.

“Fuck- yes I lied, I’m sorry, so put me the fuck down you crazy asshole-“ Vulgar as ever, his voice had fear in it, the LED eyes were forced shut and his grip around you was getting tighter and tighter.

Your arms wrapped around Adam’s head as you laid back, letting The wind breeze from the air pull and push you along its path with your wings soaring through the clouds..

“Adam, it’s ok, I promise you’re fine, all you have to do is open your eyes.”

You pet the back of his neck trying to sooth him which seemed to work after a few seconds. Adam didn’t want to, he really didn’t want to open his eyes. But the longer he kept them close, the more you would whisper soft words of encouragement to him. Eventually, his eyes slowly but surely opened.

“See? There is nothing to be scared of. I’ve got you.”

You hold him closer in your embrace. Adam looked below, the white vastness of heaven’s clouds beneath you both felt unreal, but as amazing a sight it was, Adam’s grip on you didn’t loosen.

“So… I’m guessing you don’t know how to fly yet?” You laugh a little, rubbing a spot on his back, just between his wings comfortingly.

Adam huffed and looked away “oh! I couldn’t fxcking see that!”

You held him close to you. The embrace seemed never ending, and you loved every second of it. Feeling the warmth of his plump body next to you was like a dream come true.

“Here let me just…”

You moved your hands slowly down his arms, caressing the soft flesh as they moved to eventually be at his hands behind you. You began to leisurely undo the grip he had around you.

“What do you think you're doing-“

“Shhh, relax, just trust me, ok?”

With each finger being removed from you, the grip lessened bit by bit, until eventually his hands were fully in yours. Your face leaned closer to his,

“Come on, just give your wings a good flap, trust me.”

“Ugh…. Fine but I swear to god if you let go-“

“I won’t.” Your voice was firm, yet still remained reassuring.

Adam didn’t want to do this. He really didn’t want to. But what other choice did he have? He gruffs and extends his wings from his body. The wind brushed and tickled at his feathers. The way the light hit them caused a glare of gold to be cast from them, enveloping you both. Then, he gave two hard flaps of his wings, he lifted up slightly before quickly falling back to where he was.

“There you go! Now keep doing that.”

Adam continued, his wings slowly pushing him up and up before being sent back down when he stopped. This repeated for a few minutes until he finally got a grip on it. The entire time, you were laughing. Pure unadulterated laughs of joy.

Truly, to think love could feel this good?

“See? You're a natural!”

“Of course I am! I’m the Original Dick, obviously I’d… be good at this… flying… shit.” With all the parading he was doing he kept forgetting to use his wings causing him to fall. ‘A natural’ may have been an overstatement on your part, but hey? At least he hasn’t fallen flat on his face yet!

Gently, you led him through air, giving him reassurance every few feet you flew, never letting go. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours. Before you knew it a brisk orange sunset encased you both with its hue. That’s when you realized just how long you both had been flying.

“You must be tired with sightseeing all day… I think it’s time we go home and rest, yeah?”

“Home?” Adam’s voice sounded for a moment genuinely confused. Had he not been told he’d have a place to live in heaven? As much respect you had for Sera, you’ll have to file a complaint to avoid this with future souls.

You gripped his hand and opened your wings letting the wind lead you through the clouds and above the city. The angels below look like ants at the height you both were. It was peaceful, the flight back home. But it did seem… off? So… quiet? You couldn’t put it together, at least not at the moment, But Adam hadn’t spoken a word since you both left.

Adam, while yes, he was initially confused, it made sense to him, why wouldn’t heaven have a place for its people, a place for each of them to relax, to feel safe, happy, at home.

Home was such a weird word for Adam. Has he ever felt like a place was his ‘home’? The closest thing to it was the Garden of Eden but even that proved to be anything but a home for him. Ever since that snake entered his garden.

No. He can’t think about that now. He doesn’t want to have to think about that again. But oh-do thoughts love to worm their way back into your mind when you least want them to. He’s snaps out of his thoughts when your voice picks up

“Ok, we’re here! Just get yourself settled in and I’ll go make us something to eat. I didn't really know what food you’d like so I mainly just have junk food… I hope that's ok.”

Adam nods his head nonchalantly

You smile, waking him over to the small, plush couch in the living room and handing him a blanket and some pillows. Telling him to wait a second as you fetch some food, leaving him alone.

Adam thought your house seemed welcoming enough, ‘well… our house’ Adam thought. The living room was dark aside from a few luminous lights around the room as well as the small blue gleam from the windows from the night sky.

The couch was comfortable and the pillows just as much. And the blanket you gave him was soft and warm. This really was heaven, huh?

His thoughts are, once again, interrupted by your voice, “Ok here we go, I’ve got snacks and some soda” you say, handing him some of the many food you ravaged from your fridge and sitting beside him, wrapping yourself in the shared blanket.

Grabbing the remote lying next to you, you flick on the TV flipping through the channel before ending on a cheesy sitcom, you keep the volume low wanting to enjoy any conversation with Adam. Except… he never started one. So that’s what felt off.

The entire time you flew back home, got snacks and found something to watch. He hadn't said a word. You may not have known him long but even you had already picked up that he was an advid talker in a conversation.

“Is… everything ok Adam?” You whispered, not want to scare him with your random words.

“What kind of question is that, I’m fxcking fine… I’m fine.” His voice trailed off at the end almost getting as quiet as yours.

“Are you sure cause-“

“I said I’m fuxking fine!” His voice roared through the dark room. Gritty and callous, but you could tell it was meant to hide something. Something he didn’t want you to see.

“I’m sorry…” you paused. What did you want to say from here? What could you say? You took a deep breath and tried to continue. “I… I know I said this earlier… when Sera left.”

Adam’s LED mask looked away from you half shut eyes and a frown forming a scowl on it, but still he let you continue.

“But I’m going to say it again anyways cause… I mean it. I’m really happy to have you here. To finally have you home” you place your arm around Adam’s back rubbing it soothingly as let your head slowly lax onto him, gently cuddling close to him.

That word again… home. That’s all he could think about ever since he first heard you say it. Why? Why couldn’t he get it out of his head? His breathing was becoming unsteady with each new thought and image his brain made. Lilith and Eve, they were made to be apart of his home, for him to be apart of their homes. So why? Why did it end that way?

Suddenly Adam leap from the couch as fast as he could, the shear force knocking you to the other side of the couch, sending the food to scatter and drinks to spill to the floor.

“Adam!?” Your voice was frightened at the sudden movement. Adam looked just as frightened as you, at least from what you could tell through the LED mask. He suddenly began running, where? he didn’t know, the rooms in the house looked the same. But all he knew is that he needed to be away from you. You followed quickly behind him and pleaded for him to tell you what was wrong, but eventually he ran into a room and locked the door.

He looked around, already out of breath. He was in a bathroom. He felt his knees give out under him as he tried to slowly sit down by the tub. His breath heavy, it was hard to breathe, this stupid mask. He needed it off. But just as he went to do so,

*rattle rattle rattle*

The doorknob began to move followed by frantic knocking on the door.

“Adam! Are you ok?!” Your voice pleaded through the wood of the door.

“Fuxk- I'm fine! How many times do I have to tell you that shit” his voice cracked a few times followed by a strand of curses leaving his lips.

Home. The word repeated like a mantra in his head. Like it was mocking him. Was he not meant to have a place he called a home? To have someone to return to, who would tell him “welcome back!” Without even being told to?

Lilith hated him, Eve betrayed and hurt him like no one else before, ever. They were made to be with him, one was literally made to be his other half. The garden, his home, was taken from him because of something, someone he couldn’t control. it all comes back to him. That albino snake in the grass.

Lucifer, ‘The dreamer’… was this some sort of game to him? To toy with his emotions, treat him like some kind of plaything to mess with, to screw over? What kind of life was it? To have every opportunity and opening be broken down by him, And Adam being powerless to stop it?

“Adam! Please open the door!” Your voice was even more frantic now, knocking every few seconds before it quickly quieted down. Your body slumped against the door.

“Adam… I’m sorry if I hurt you or… or if I was going too fast… I didn't mean to… I’m so sorry…” your breath hitched with tears.

And then there was you.

You have been nothing but kind to him since you met him. You showed him around heaven, taught him how to fly and welcomed him home without having being told to. You were so different. So, so very different. Adam figure that out a while ago now. But in reality, it’s exactly why he was terrified.

To have someone who loves him so... unconditionally.

*click*

The sound of the door unlocking drew your attention and was followed by it slowly opening from Adam on the other side, still on the floor.

“Adam!” Your voice was low, already tired from crying. You crawled your way toward him before stopping in front of him, tears still falling from your face, “I’m sorry Adam, I’m sorry-“ you were cut off by a quick movement.

Warmth enveloped you, clouding your senses as a soft weight laid onto you. Arms wrapped their way around you in an embrace.

“Shit- it's not your fault, it was never your fault…” Adam’s voice was surprisingly soft, a stark contrast to his regular tone. Sincerity evident with each word. All you could do was hide into his large frame and cry at the words.

Adam was never good at comforting people. He himself was never comforted, so the concept was more than a bit foreign to him. But even still, he tried. Slowly he helped you both up from the bathroom floor and made your way back to the couch.

The floor was covered in the discarded food you both left behind. The spilled soda is now dried and sticky. Crumbs everywhere.

“Here.. let me get a mop and broom-“

“No just sit down, I’ll clean up the shit I made” you lay down on the couch and watched as Adam swept and mopped the mess from the floor. The entire time the silence hung in the air by a thread. Neither of you wanting to be the one to snap the string and speak.

Finally Adam got done cleaning the mess and made his way to the couch. He sat down and gestured for you to come closer. Crawling over to him, he wrapped the blanket around you both allowing you to snuggle into him.

“Do…” your voice barely audible “Do you want to talk about it?”

Adam looked hesitant but nodded.

“You know about everything, right? About… what all happened in Eden?

You nod against his chest content on listening.

“When… When Lilith left me, I thought I didn't care as much as I did. I thought she was a bitch and that was that. And it didn’t help that as soon as she left, I got Eve…”

He paused

“Then, when I found out about that shit between Eve and Lucifer… I didn’t care then either, but I didn’t understand why…” his voice hitched “but when I ate that damn apple… I realized how hurt I should have been. All the concepts of right and wrong, good and evil, learning all of it through that fruit, I realized one shitty truth… that the one I loved betrayed me.”

You hugged him tighter softly, your hands caressed his stomach as some form of comfort before he continued.

“For the same person- Both of them for that snake…”

“Adam… I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“And that’s why… I’m scared. Scared that I will fuxk up again and get… attached to you. Because every. single. time. He ruins it. And I don't want to see that happen with you.”

Your heart ached for him, the saddening look of his LED mask as he talked only furthered your emotions. Slowly your hands made their way to his face, he looks at you confused, your fingertips crept under the mask before his hand shot up and held your wrist slightly, carefully not holding it too tight.

“Sorry fuck- I’m.. I’m not ready.”

You smile and nod understanding “Adam. I love you… with all of my heart. And I would never do what those two done to you. “

Adam thought for a moment deciding what to say.

“Promise?” was all he could think of, his voice, mind, and body were all too tired to speak more about it.

You slowly remove your hands from his mask, instead taking one of his hands into yours.

“I promise, I would never betray you, let alone talk to that man” ever-so lightly, a soft golden glow burned between yours and Adam’s hands, the gold flame was warm and comforting to both of you as it rose and grew in strength.

From the flame, a string wrapped and warped itself around both yours and Adam’s pinky fingers. The string tightened and loosened as it moved, before finally melting away leaving only two solid gold rings behind, One on Adam’s finger and the other on yours.

“What the hell was that?” Adam’s voice was filled with bewilderment

“A deal- or I guess a promise. In this case”

“Shit, You didn’t have to do that-“ this time it was your turn to interrupt him. You bring Adam’s hand to your lips, and give a kiss on his newly formed ring before lying down and cuddling into Adam.

“I know.”

For once in his life, Adam felt at ease with love. How easy it was to fall for you.

Is this what home feels like?

[iniquitousyearning]

can you please write something about tom being tied up!!!! please please!!!! i know you would write this so well🥹

hejsjahshs uhm okay this could go many different ways but if you read my fic ‘this is your punishment’ i feel like reader from that fic would be looking to get revenge and what better way to disarm tom than to take away the one thing that man needs more than anything? control.

“what is this—what are you—“ tom’s voice dies off as you tighten the magical bonds around his wrists, tugging him back snug into the chair he’s so adorably trying to slip out of. it’s laughable really, the way you turned the tables back onto him and just how much he fucking hates it. “this isn’t funny. you don’t want to start this with me—“

with a flick of your finger, his tie is between his teeth and his pitiful threats are muffled—as useless as his squirming. with a smirk, you take a step back from where he’s seated, drinking him down in all his glory under the dim lighting inside his dorm. you’ve never seen him like this. vulnerable. the way his muscles flex against his shirt as he squirms, brows pinched and jaw tense—

it’s intoxicating.

”c’mon, tommy…you didn’t really think i wouldn’t get you back, did you?” your fingers find the buttons of your shirt, slowly undoing them one by one. his squirming stops as soon as you move to the second button, chest heaving as he watches you—your pulse soars, spurred on by the way his eyes burn your skin. “look, you’re talented—so bloody good with spells, i’ll give you that. but i think you forgot that i’m good too.”

at that, his eyes narrow and his head tilts just slightly—you slip the last button free on your blouse and let the fabric fall free from your shoulders, black-laced breasts bared to those raging midnight eyes.

“we’re more alike than you thought, tommy. you underestimated me, and that carelessness is the reason you’re sitting there, and i’m standing here.” you step closer again, leaning forward until you’re bent before him, breasts spilling out of the thin lace barely containing them— “a pity, isn’t it?”

he groans into the tie, and you see it—the way he’s warring with himself, not sure where to let his eyes settle—bouncing back and fourth between your tits and your smirk laden lips, hiding behind the irritation as if letting you know he loves this would mean losing.

tom riddle has never been a good loser.

“yes, such a pity.” you nod to yourself, pursing your lips. he is beautiful—beautiful in a way that is far past disastrous but when he’s stuck like this, tied up before you, he’s tamed in a way you know isn’t possible otherwise. all that danger, held back by a silly little spell. “though, i have to say…what’s even more pitiful, is the way you’ve been denying yourself.”

you slip a finger under his jaw, urging his chin up until his eyes have no where to look except into yours. you can’t believe how bold you’re being.

“you could have fucked me, you know. merlin knows i wanted it.” you whisper, free hand slipping down to his knee. “but you chose a spell. because you’re superior, right? a man above impulse?”

he grunts against the fabric in his mouth when your fingers tease timidly up his thigh—you glance down just as he shifts his legs, spreading them wider, pants tight in the crotch as his body betrays him.

you shush him, tutting. drunk off the power trip. “i know. you’re so disciplined, tommy. the rest of us could only wish to be as strong as you.”

salazar save you—you’re playing with matches, biting your lip, unable to look away. you can’t tell forsure but the outline of him looks monstrous under this shitty lighting—and you remember now, just how much you hate this game.

but regardless, you’ll play along—after all, he’s the one that made the rules, who are you to break them?

“look at you,” you whisper, fingers slipping higher, dangerously close. you graze his bulge and his hips twitch, his head almost falling back until you slip your fingers around his jaw, holding his eyes to yours. “you’re so hard.. and i’ve barely touched you…when’s the last time you got off, huh? when’s the last time you’ve fucked?”

AKSJAISHSJ OK I CANT WRITE BLURBS IM SORRY THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME BUT—

[beardedjoel]

pretty little wife | sorry, baby

joel miller x f!reader one shot collection

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | ✨kofi ✨ summary: 4k words. Joel is stressed and busy with a big project at work lately. His pretty little wife makes it all better. warnings: 18+ MDNI! no apocalypse au, pre-established relationship/dynamic, sub/dom relationship, free use kink, oral sex (m receiving), cock worship (!! yes), unprotected piv, rough sex, dirty talk, pet names for reader, sir kink making a reappearance, bit of fluff mixed in, mention of food/eating, @ GOD WHY ISNT THIS ME a/n: I'M BACK. these two sick lovebirds are back 😭 i needed something sweet to write while working on smother so here's some cute domestic sucking and fucking from my favorite couple MWAH reminder i have no taglist anymore, follow @beardedjoel-updates to hear about my new fics!

Gonna be late again. Sorry baby.

Joel’s hurried text had pinged your phone a few hours ago, and you reassured him it was no problem, of course. You know that his company is contracting on a huge project in downtown Austin right now, and it required a lot of Joel’s attention. He’d been giving so much you were surprised that he had anything left in the tank when he came home to you. But by god, so many nights he sure did, coming home in a frenzy to fuck you, taste you, finding you where you were when he arrived home - cleaning up dishes from dinner, the shower, already curled up in bed with a book on one particularly late night.

You relished in him releasing everything into you - the stress of his day instantly melting with a simple touch of his lips to yours, drinking in your curves and soft skin with rough hands and frenzied yet controlled movements. It always seemed like the more stressed he was, the more he couldn’t get his cock in you fast enough, the more relentless he was in the ways he took care of you. He’d leave you spent, dripping, and aching, letting you talk softly about your day as he stroked your hair afterwards, all sweetness and hushed tones until you two fell asleep.

You peer into the living room from the kitchen to see Joel walking in, looking generally askew and you frown. When his shoes are yanked off and placed in the closet he looks up to see you leaning on the doorframe, lips full and pouting, finger sticking up with a patch of cookie dough stuck to it to taste test. You stand in a long, threadbare t-shirt of his and pink cotton panties, just what Joel had set out for you this morning, and he makes sure to thank his past self for such a wise choice this morning. You’d laughed at the lack of bra or any kind of pants, knowing it was no accident you’d ended up dressed without any bottoms on today. You aim to please, and the look Joel gives you whenever he sees you exactly how he envisioned you for the day always makes your heart soar a little higher. 

He finds his way to the couch, sprawling out and giving you an exhausted look. You stick the errant finger into your mouth, sucking the sweet, sugary cookie dough off and licking your lips. Joel’s expression changes quickly, his interest clearly sparked, but the wearisome look doesn’t leave his eyes. 

“Baby?” you ask, your brows furrowing further with worry. This wasn’t your husband, this wasn’t Joel, and you always hate to see him have a tough day. It makes your heart ache when he works too hard, gives too much of himself and winds up burnt out. You certainly don’t mind making it all better for him, that’s what you’re here for, after all, but it pains you nonetheless.

“C’mon over here, little wife,” Joel murmurs, running a hand down his weary face. When he pulls it away, he gazes at you with heavy lids before propping his hands behind his head. 

You saunter over to him, standing next to where he lays and reaching down to graze your fingers over his stretched bicep, trailing it inwards towards his face. He hums, fluttering his eyes closed for a brief moment and enjoying the way your gentle fingers work across his cheekbones and through his beard. 

His hand slowly moves from behind his head to curve around your waist, drawing you nearer, the front of your knees hitting the side of the couch cushions now. His silent signals are obvious to you at this point, so you don’t waste a moment swinging your leg around his body, tucking it in between his thigh and the back of the couch, settling in to straddle him. A hand runs gently down his chest as you tilt your head, studying his face in concern. 

“What’s my husband need from me?” you ask quietly, letting your other hand bury itself in his curls, scratching at his scalp. 

Joel lets out a pleasured groan, nearly shuddering at the feeling. “Fuck, baby.” You feel his body shift underneath you, already squirming with the sensation of your fingers doing their work on him. “Make me feel good.” 

“Let’s get you more comfortable, then,” you coo, fingers already moving on the buttons of his shirt, making quick work of the top few to let his chest breathe a little bit. You take only a beat to admire the top of his chest poking out, curls of hair sticking out wild and messy before getting to work. You slither down his body, giving yourself enough room to undo his belt before pulling it out of its loops and tossing it aside. 

“Lift, please,” you say, keeping up your gentle, soothing tone as Joel’s hips lift off the couch and allow you the space to pull down his dress pants, wriggling them down to his ankles and then over his feet. “Now that’s better, isn’t it?”

“Mmm,” Joel answers, a pleasant little hum from the back of his throat. You can feel how your ministrations have already gotten him hard as it brushes against your center when you settle back on top of his hips. A brief tease of your hips swirling on his sends Joel’s twitching, a sly little smile flashing on his lips. But you’re gone an instant later, moving down the couch and settling next to his feet, sitting crossed legged to face them before taking one into your lap. 

“What’s this, now?” Joel asks, a slight tiredness to his voice now. 

“Ever heard of a foot rub?” you reply with a lifted brow. He chuckles and you watch his body rumble with the sound. 

“Givin’ me mouth today, are we?” he asks playfully, the tired laughter still fading off as he speaks. 

“I could,” you retort, pursing your lips and looking up from his feet to find his eyes peeking open, looking down at your delicate, innocuous smile with a plethora of hidden meaning behind it. 

“Such a dirty girl…” he murmurs, neatly cut off by the groan he lets out when you press in on one of his arches with your thumb.

“See? I know what you need, baby,” you coo, working your fingers into the tender spots on his foot, being sure to use just the right amount of pressure. You prop his foot in your lap, letting it hang there as you gently rotate his ankle, loosening everything up. 

“Christ,” he breathes out as you start on the other foot. His breathing is a little labored, pain and pleasure mixing together as you continue to help his weary soles. You work each foot until he sighs contentedly, a good sign that your work is finished. 

At least on his feet, that is. You run your hands teasingly up his thighs, settling them on his hips as you work your way back up his body, hips straddling his again. You lean down and brush your lips against his neck, peering up to watch Joel’s eyes flutter shut as he sighs again. The sound is music to your ears, anytime your husband makes that content, soft little sound you think you’ve reached heaven. You suck and flick little patches all over his neck, starting a slow, steady grind of your hips. 

“Oh, pretty girl,” Joel starts, landing a firm hand along your hip. “I can’t today… I’m so fuckin’ beat. You know I’d give anything to fuck my cock into you…” He murmurs the words with a hint of frustration. You know this is hitting Joel harder than he’s letting on, seeing as his singularly focused task most days is to find a way to get himself inside of you.

“Who said anything about you fucking me?” you ask slyly, hands hooking into the sides of his briefs. You watch as Joel’s eyes pop open and look at you mischievously. “You said to make you feel good, so that’s what I’m doing, my darling.” You keep your tone even and calming as you continue with your teasing, deft fingers playing under his waistband. 

Joel’s smirk grows and he reaches a hand up to gently pet the back of your head before pulling you to his face, kissing you deeply. “Good girl,” he says as he pulls away, the words falling right onto your own lips. “Doin’ as you’re told.”

You slink lower, getting to the spot you know excites him the most, straddling lower on his legs to bring your mouth down to his clothed cock. You plant small kisses along the obvious bulge and Joel reacts immediately with a small hiss through his teeth. You kiss and lick and suck, letting the fabric tamp enough of the pleasure to drive him crazy. 

“God damn it…” he grunts quietly, hips shifting as they spasm up towards your mouth when you suck another spot on the fabric, taking your sweet time, only a small form of torture for Joel. “You tryna make me ask you to pull my cock out and get your pretty mouth on it? Cause you know, once I’m not dead on m’feet I might have to punish you ‘f that’s the case.” His words tumble out slow and thick with his accent - that Southern drawl always comes out more when he’s tired and mumbling.

Your mouth curls deviously and you lick your lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” you reply in a low lilt. 

“Mhm…” Joel teases, but you heed his warning anyhow, tugging his briefs down to free his cock, nearly enraged as it throbs and drips precum from the way you’d already been working on it. Your tongue finds the salty fluid at his head, lapping it with just the tip of your tongue and swirling it around. You start to practically nuzzle it, catching his cock in the corners of your lips, letting your tongue get a few tiny kitten licks on his shaft as you rub it along your cheeks. The smooth skin glides along your face and you start to get messier with it, letting his cock start to spread his precum and your saliva along your cheeks as you let the flat of your tongue run along it.

Joel lets out a loud, long groan, fingers gripping deep into the couch cushion. He can barely contain himself as your tongue licks a thick stripe up underneath his length, tracing the most prominent vein. His hips stutter forward as he gives himself to the moment. 

“God damn, honey…” he whimpers quietly, eyes shutting in the bliss of the moment.

Your hands rub his thighs gently, kneading into them as you start to bob your head on his cock, taking a little more each time until he’s at the back of your throat. You fight the urge to gag, a little noise coming out of you, sending Joel’s hand flying to the back of your head, his gaze watching the way his cock disappears inside of your warm mouth.

“That’s it, choke on it like I like, pretty girl…” Joel mumbles, eyes rolling back a little as his cock fills your mouth. “My pretty wife…” he whispers with a reverence and respect, despite the degrading way he’s about to fuck your mouth.

You move with a little more urgency, your mouth stuffed and aching already, one hand coming up to grip the base of Joel’s cock and stroking there while your mouth works on him. Joel’s hand pushes down on your head, sending you a little further and you sputter, spit flying all around his cock and lap but it doesn’t deter you. His hips start to move of their own accord into you, matching the rhythm of your mouth pumping on him. Your body gets hot and desperate for him, your praise loving nature alight just by seeing how much he loves the way you pleasure him. Your thighs wriggle as your cunt aches and drips now, begging you for relief that you know will have to wait.

“God, fuck,” he cries out, “Needed this…” Joel seems to be practically revived, a new energy filling his weary body as he grunts and pants, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth in faster strokes now. You can sense how close he is, you know your husband’s body like the back of your hand now, his balls tightening and cock getting even harder on your tongue.

He grunts with the effort of sitting forward, yanking your head off of his cock and swiftly sliding his hands to your waist, hauling your entire body upwards so that your hips are above his. 

“Need this needy little cunt, look how soaked you are,” Joel coos with a genuine pity for you as he sees the wet stain on your panties.. His fingers tear your underwear to the side, giving enough room for his cock to position itself at your weeping entrance, giving you no time to even process it before he forces your hips to bear down on him.

You cry out in a long, wanting moan as he fills you up, the stretch of him burning in that familiar way that you love and crave so much. Joel is an addiction - your husband the one thing in life you could never get enough of, never filling you enough, never fucking you full and deep enough times that you’re fulfilled. He never fails to leave you satisfied, of course, but you’re always wanting more in the next moment, practically wishing you could live just like this - his cock stuffing you and stretching your pussy to its limits, sending that pain you live for deep inside of you until it turns to the most blinding pleasure. Gratitude overtakes you as you sink down completely, whispering out a fervent thank you as you feel yourself clench around him, eyes shut and head thrown back. Joel reaches to your chin, pulling your head to look down at him. 

“What was that?” he asks teasingly, rutting his hips up into your as he speaks. You shudder again, pussy clenching around him as you feel his length pressing against your walls.

“T-thank you,” you breathe out. “Thank you, sir…” You’re unable to say anything else, only look at him with half-lidded eyes and cry out wantonly when he pushes all the way in again, seating himself inside of you only to lift your hips up and do it all over again.

“Yeah… knew bein’ stuffed full of my cock would make you my polite girl again,” Joel says arrogantly, sending a fresh wave of arousal right between your legs, gushing around his girth. You nod, blinking down at him, rolling your hips and chasing your pleasure. You lean down a little closer to Joel, bringing your chest more flush with his, the change in angle devastating the both of you. 

“So fuckin’ full of me,” Joel whispers in your ear, taking it upon himself to bend his legs and start fucking up into you. You moan in his ear, tears springing to your eyes as you feel him close to your cervix, each deep thrust sinfully delicious and bordering on painful in the way that makes your skin tingle in the best way. You want to be used, you want him as deep as he can possibly go, to feel you entirely wrapped around him.

Joel grunts, hot breath fanning next to your ear as he holds you close. Your bodies are intermingling with sweat now, your ass slapping down onto his thighs reverberating through the quiet living room. It’s just this - the two of you, your shared breath, your intertwined bodies, nothing else matters or even registers to you now. Joel’s hips shift the slightest bit in angle and you cry out, your g-spot now overstimulated with attention as Joel’s cock pounds into you harder, brushing the spongy spot with each new movement into you.

You pant, clutching onto him and digging your manicured nails into his shoulder, scratching them along to his neck where you hang on for dear life.

“Fuck…” you murmur, feeling your body tensing, legs like jello as they shake on either side of Joel’s thighs. “Let me come, p-please, sir,” you whimper, holding back with every ounce of strength you have as the tingling warmth spreads, heat in your belly threatening to burst at any second.

“Hang on f’me, baby, fuck, n-not yet,” Joel replies in a huff, clearly close to that high himself. “Wanna fill you up right when you’re comin’ so pretty f’me.”

You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, holding back as your body screams at you with need. This wasn’t the first time Joel had you hold back your climax, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but it never got any easier. You whimper, nearing a sob as Joel thrusts into you, your hips rolling and stuttering into his movements. “Please… sir…” you cry.

Joel grunts out a stern no and continues to slam his hips into yours, growing harsher by the second. You’re a whimpering wreck, your body nearly about to betray you as Joel hits your g-spot again. Tears leak from your eyes with the psychological effort of holding back, but you know it’ll be worth it. It always is.

“Now,” Joel says simply, “Come for me, little doll,” he adds, finishing the sentence with a grunt as you start to lose control, feeling like a dam inside of you is bursting, all the pleasure rolling over you in dazzling waves. You flutter around Joel’s cock almost as hard as you ever have, squeezing his length as he lets out a small whimper himself. Your breathy moans right in his ear send goosebumps along his whole body despite how stifling the air is surrounding you two.

“Fuck…” he moans, his hips jerking a few times before he starts to spill himself into you. You continue to shake, pulling every last drop from him as you ride out your own high, Joel’s name rolling off your tongue as you moan.

“God, yeah…” you whimper out, finally collapsing onto Joel’s chest as his legs go limp underneath you. You both lay in silence, chests heaving and small smiles on your faces. Joel strokes the back of your head and your smile grows. Neither of you seem set on moving, the combination of both of your climaxes a slick mess between the two of you as you settle into a more steady rhythm of breathing.

“Mmm…” Joel mumbles out the noise. “How’s my pretty little wife today, hm?” he asks quietly, fingers tracing down your cheeks to your lips.

“You’re late to ask,” you tease him with a laugh, typically hearing that question before anything else when he gets home. He uses his free hand to squeeze your ass cheek in warning at your bratiness and you grin. “But better now,” you answer in the familiar response to your favorite question from him.

“Thought so,” Joel says wryly, giving you ass a lazy pat before kissing the side of your head. He’s quiet for a few moments before lifting your hips off of his, your body immediately missing the sweet fullness of him as you both sit up. Joel brings your legs over his and you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling like the most natural fit in the world. 

“‘M sorry about all this, baby - all the late nights and bein’ stressed and probably bein’ a grouch,” Joel says, his voice laden with guilt. He circles on your bare thigh with his fingers and you shudder a little, snuggling further into him. One of your hands wraps around his cheek, turning his head to meet your eye line and you give him a soft smile.

“You think you just now started being a grouch?” you joke, knowing you’re pushing your limits on how much bratiness Joel will tolerate in one day before things escalate.

He growls deep in his throat and you giggle softly, scratching your fingers through his hair. “Thin ice, baby…” he murmurs.

“I love my grumpy husband,” you say sweetly, fingers moving down to run through his rough beard. “It’s okay though, Joel. Promise. I just miss you, but this busy and crazy time will pass like it always does, right? In the mean time...” you lower your voice, a finger trailing from his cheek to his neck and down his chest. “We can just do that anytime you need it.” 

Joel chuckles, giving your entire body a squeeze against him. “That’s my good girl. Always ready f’me.” You smile into his chest at his praise before he continues. “We’ll do somethin’ this weekend, the two of us an’ spend some time together, mkay? Make up for all this bullshit.”

You feel your heart squeeze inside your chest and your stomach flutter a little at the idea. Joel has typically been pretty good about planning dates over the years, but you know that it’s been hard with his extra workload lately, so you’ve been missing the romantic evenings he’d plan for you two. You’d tried to ask about planning one yourself, and Joel shut you down immediately in the sweetest way possible, claiming the responsibility fully for himself to do that for you.

“Ooh, yes please,” you reply excitedly, hugging him close.  

“‘S a date then,” Joel confirms, leaning his head back onto the couch while you stay resting on his shoulder. You both fall into a comfortable quiet again, Joel’s breathing steadying as he dozes off. 

“Do you want a cookie?” you ask into the silence, sitting up. Joel’s eyes creak open from where he’d been resting them and he glances down at you with furrowed brows. 

“That s’posed to be some kind of euphemism, darlin’?” he asks groggily. You laugh, throwing your head back a little and shuffling yourself to sit up on the edge of the couch. 

“Could be,” you giggle, “Real cookies this time, though. You can even sneak one before dinner.” 

Joel perks up a little, eyes opening a bit more. “Chocolate chip?” he asks, a boyish glint in his gaze. 

“Of course,” you nod, and Joel smiles tiredly, sitting up to join you on the edge of the couch. 

“You know you’re the best wife?” Joel says, nudging you with his shoulder and leaning over for a quick peck on your cheek before standing up and pulling his pants back on. He moans and groans while he twists his back and stretches his arms over his head for a few moments, and you know his knees must be flaring up as they do when he’s more stressed.

“Just one,” you warn Joel as you see him making his way to the kitchen trying to look like some kind of master sleuther on the hunt for fresh baked cookies. “I’m making dinner soon.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel tosses over his shoulder at you before disappearing around the corner. When you make your way to the kitchen, you watch him take a bite off of a cookie from the cooling rack and you stand with crossed arms, admiring him. His eyes look you up and down with a similar appreciation, landing between your legs where he sees your underwear completely soaked and stained from your recent rendezvous. He smirks as he chews, stepping towards you. 

“An’ don’t you dare think about changing your underwear,” he says in a low rumble, eyes flicking all over your face as he gets close to read if you’re going to keep up your bratty streak today. Instead, you give him a docile little upturn of your lips - he’s been through enough today - and brush past him to start working on dinner. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[ninguitar]

　　　꣑ৎ　　　　𝓢O CLOSE, YET SO FAR　♱.　MM.B 　　────　i miss your voice, you're the only one with it 𓈒𓈒𓈒

🦇　( 𝓢 ) ﹕ 　you tell yourself everything's over with manon bannerman, that she no longer has the key to your heart. but like a bird trapped in a cage, prevented from escaping, you find yourself inevitably clinging to the past.

𝓹airing. ex. meret manon bannerman & fem. reader　𝓰enre. angst mentions of toxic/avoidant dynamics heartbreak 1.1k wc.　　🗒️ ! 　first fic since hiatus everybody give me a standing ovation 😅😅✌️ i also wrote this on a whim so this is lowkey just word vomit sorry … 💔 ( MASTERLIST )

now playing ⋆ what used to be mine by faye webster

EVERYTHING HITS MANON LIKE A WAVE DURING A STORM. nothing made sense to her, not when the so-called perfect-picture relationship you two had was ripped out of her hands by none other than herself. you were the girl of her dreams. in fact, you'd be the girl of any sane person's dreams.

the first time she held you, it felt like she had the world at her fingertips, her cold hands gently drawing patterns all over the small of your back. a fleeting touch that lingered longer than it should've. you were the only thing she truly loved, her love for you swirling behind her eyes every time she looked at you.

you'd always claim love was overrated, that you never saw the need for it. that was only until the ghanaian girl skated her way into your heart, and you were absolutely floored by her. it baffled you initially, that a girl like manon who was your polar opposite, left you hopelessly captivated.

and so, you two disregarded the world, pretending everything was perfect, that neither of you were scared to be in a relationship. words weren't your guys' strong suits, considering neither of you could admit that this was real, because real things eventually fall apart. and even worse, considering that words laced with venom came out of the two of you, intended to hurt the other. both of you knew the weight of those words but never relented, too prideful.

nothing separated you two, though, oddly enough. mainly because, after every intense argument with silence weaving in-between, one of you would find their way to the other, pulling the other's trembling body into a hug, and promising to make any troubling thoughts of theirs vanish into thin air. the fear of life without the other completely stirred a feeling of nausea in your guys' body, so you two stayed together, even if it meant bitter resentment soared to higher lengths.

you loved her, and she loved you, right? that's all that mattered. staying together worked for awhile; you thought you couldn't have felt any better, especially since that same moonstruck gaze manon gave you only fueled your hope. you felt like you were high on a daze again, that the thought of everything bubbling up to surface and you two ending things was nearly impossible.

then, silence became what replaced the sounds of the ghanaian girl's heart racing. no calls, no texts, nothing. she was radio silent. it wasn't the kind of silence you found yourself clinging onto, the kind where you interlocked your hands with manon's, and she'd hold onto you firmly like you would fade away somehow if she didn't. no, it was the kind that carried the weight of memories and the whispers of what went wrong. it swallowed up you whole. everything tugs your heartstrings in the cruelest way ever, binding them into an impossible knot.

you almost went crazy on a random tuesday, coming home to a u-haul outside your shared apartment, and boxes laid out with manon's stuff inside, ready to be loaded into the truck. your heart was a mere seconds away from beating out your chest. your hand was hooked with hers, your thumb brushing against her knuckles gently. frantic, you practically begged for her to not leave, to tell you this was a mean trick played by her.

and by then, you knew manon was always an enigma to you. because how could she find love in the ugliest things like jealousy, and the prettiest things like the aurelia borealis, but never you? in her other hand was a one-way flight ticket, and you realized absolutely nothing got better. you just chose to believe everything got better. her hands lay on top of yours, tenderly holding them.

you always assumed it was a simple choice for manon, that she would inevitably slip through your fingers. you just never chose to believe that. then, words were thrown around foolishly. that alone made it easier for the other girl to leave, to say good-bye, because she believed you would get over her faster if you resented her.

"there was no 'us,' you knew that," manon bit the bullet, annoyance laced in her breath. "none of this was real; neither of us could admit it ever was anyway." her voice was raw, anger slightly sewn into her tone. your body was plagued with guilt and hurt, and a breath leaves your parted lips.

half of you wants to pull her back, to tell her how you really felt, and that you could never bring yourself to hate her. and the other half of you wants to make it even, to hurt her the way she hurt you. you wish her name itself didn't haunt you, and that you could stop missing her like a little kid.

what made it worse was revisiting that wound in your heart. your college graduation day came, and the same pay phone number kept calling you every second of the day. with your phone clutched in your hand, you answered the call. you knew very well that it was manon, considering she'd left fairly recently—a few months back.

"manon, is that you?" you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper, as it resonates with apprehension. your eyebrows were etched together, "i'm pretty it's you, and i'm also pretty sure you've been calling to say something, but you won't say anything."

silence follows.

you scoffed, "if you won't talk, then i will." again, silence.

"you didn't handle things right at all, you could've given me some closure, or been upfront with me, and told me you were leaving. but you didn't, and you ended up not coming to my graduation, and cutting me off entirely. and that's fine—i get it, but that's it for me, i've moved on from you.

you swallowed the lump in your throat, "i think i may have loved you, but i just need to let it go. that's it, and i hope you're doing good—i want you to be good, so goodbye, manon." her name falling from your lips in such a distant tone felt almost foreign. you finally exhaled, shake and uneven, as you shook your head, hastily ending the call.

you wish you could get a view into manon's head. you wait, and wait, hoping that she would call again and tell you how much she misses you. you knew it was useless, hopeless, but you still nonetheless hang in there, drowning in your racing thoughts.

you could only imagine how she'd react. she'd probably tease you playfully, calling you corny and whipped. then, she'd whisper sweet-nothings against your shoulder, her arms slipping around your waist instinctively. that was always how she reacted whenever she thought you were being a sap. and you recall, that there was actually a time where her arms were your home, and that the heartbeat of hers against your head was your favorite sound.

you huff at the memories, knowing how easy it was for manon to swiftly lie about love, about everything, really. and you believed they were the truth, and that they couldn't be farther from it.

and i listen to you when i feel like crying,

it reminds me of what used to be mine.

current 𝓽aglist : ( open. ♱ 2 be added, read this post. )

@kisshae @sed7ction @yeetaberry127 @vrtualstar @jellaaa @jaythegirlkisser @falling-intoo-deep @c-yerim @bulgik @gtfoiydlyj @rinapomu @meganskiendielsbtc

[soobnny]

the alchemy — athlete!chan x reader ; established relationship (0.9k words)

where’s the trophy, he just comes running over to me

olympic inspired fic

Chan told stories.

His hands, rough with hard work, held strength and sacrifices. Years of training manifested in his calloused palms, in the occasional cuts and bruises.

They were proof of his passion, his dreams, his ambitions.

It’s almost funny how that entire world he had crafted with tears and sweat and sacrifices all boils down to a single moment, to right now, under the watchful eyes of thousands. Maybe even millions.

On the other side stood a realm, a place he can reap the efforts he’d planted step-by-step. He can faintly see victory from where he’s standing.

The crowd is a blur of color and noise. There are hands with flags waving, faces of anticipation, voices that brewed with support. Chan can feel the weight of the entire stadium pressing against his chest.

There is drumming, and beating, and shouting, and cheers.

And then static.

He breathes in, the space falling away in consequence. There is only the wall of focus he’s just built for himself—only the track, the runway, the pole, the leap.

The bar was set higher than it had been on his first attempt. A podium finish was in his reach with the pole in his hands and the runway in front of him if he would just make this jump.

A sharp breath.

The faintest rustle of the uniform he’s wearing.

And then the low hum of static.

There is nothing but the vault.

His pulse is thudding in his ears, heartbeat echoing a steady beat of anticipation. The sound of his shoes hitting the ground seemed louder than it was earlier.

There was only one thing to do now.

Chan’s gaze falls straight to the landing zone. He zeroes in on the marks, the mat awaiting his landing, the exact moment the pole would bend, how his body should fly above the vault.

That entire world, the callouses in his hands, the roughness of hard work, the countless hours of repetition were all about to be reduced to that one line on the horizon.

His grip tightens on the pole, familiar yet too rigid for comfort. And then he’s at the starting line.

At a last effort of any fragment of comfort, he searches for you where you stand. You were there, always have been, with eyes holding softness, and hope, and comfort. Something no one else could ever replicate.

A flicker of a smile curves at his lips, and then, as if his body has always known the exact timing, his legs start to move. One step, two steps. One after the other. His speed picks up, his hands instinctively tighten around the pole as it digs into the ground beneath him, and then he flies.

Chan flies, and the crowd falls silent in anticipation.

His entire world spins in such a short amount of time, even stills as his body—taught with the thrill of possibility—twists. There is muscle memory in the way he soars in the air, the same air heavy with the taste of victory that wasn’t his yet.

Gravity takes over.

Everything else falls behind him. Flashbacks of late night practices, and crying, and thinking he’s not good enough. Moments when he’d almost given up. Days when he’d felt like his efforts were going nowhere.

You’d always been there to help him back up.

You. You. You.

Thud.

His body hits the mats, and the sound echoes for half a second.

Just like that, it was done. He had done it.

His breath comes back in quick bursts, heart hammering in his chest.

When the mat propels his body back up, he lands on his feet. And before he can really process the victory he’d been working upon, he’s already turning. Sprinting.

The only direction to go now was the stands, the only direction left was to you.

You. You. You.

His legs carried him faster, and faster, and the world moved in a similar slow motion as he was when he was flying. The cheering, the flashing lights of cameras, the explosiveness of the stadium, everything was abandoned in the background.

Chan barrels into you, arms pulling you into the tightest embrace he could muster. For a moment, nothing else mattered—the gold medal, the record, nothing. Except for the fact that he had made it, and you were there with him to see it happen.

“Channie” is the only word you can muster, voice thick as you loop your arms around his neck.

Apparently, it’s also the only word he needs to pull himself back, hands resting on your shoulders as if needing to anchor himself to the moment. His eyes look into yours for a split second.

His eyes told stories too. It was always his most honest and obvious tell. And right now, they were looking at you with so much love.

Yours, with pride.

“Baby—“

Without warning, his lips find yours.

You feel everything in one kiss. The adrenaline, the years of work, his entire world. Chan leans into you, breathing you in, feeling the surge of everything he had accomplished into someone that felt like home.

Fuck, you make him happier than any Olympic gold medal ever could.

Somewhere in the distance, the announcer’s voice rings out his name as champion, but all he can ever see and hear right now is you. It was done. He’d made the vault, now all he needed to do was hold onto you.

There’s plenty of time for the rest later, plenty of time for celebrations, for the podium, for the journalists.

Right now, it was only ever you and the bright smile on your face, and the same smile he’s mirroring on his own.

And right now, in this moment, Chan doesn’t have to jump to know what it feels like to fly.

[lizmidfordsblog]

Some hilarious quotes from the fic that are too good to leave in the drafts pfft

“I AM A KITE!” Raon screams, thrilled. “You can fly.” Cale deadpans. “I AM SOARING!” “You are going approximately seven feet.” Jules snorts, tossing Raon higher in the air. “Feels like more when you’re tiny.” “I’m not tiny! I’m compact and powerful!” “Sure you are, kiddo.”

2.

Suddenly, Mary sits up straight, sticking her arms out in the air. “I am God.” She states extremely seriously. “Bow down you plebians.” “WHO THE HELL GAVE MARY ALCOHOL?!”

3.

She meets Choi Han’s amused gaze, barely lets out a groan before tipping over and puking again. All over Cale's feet. “I admit, this is the first time I’ve been greeted like this.” “Oh fuck you.” “Yeah, that’s more familiar.”

4.

Jules roundhouse kicks away the shot glass Cage offers the bewildered swordsman, screeching at the top of her lungs. “NO GIVING ALCOHOL TO MINORS!” No one hears Choi Han’s heartbroken mutter. “…But I’m older than all of you?”

5.

“…Are—Are you flirting with me?” Jules stammers incredulously. Cage nods vigorously, leaning in dramatically and slamming one hand firmly against the wall next to Jules’ head. “Hey darling, what do you think about having a beautiful Unnie?” "Excuse me?" Cage whispers, eyes gleaming with madness. “Not only am I smart and beautiful, but I am amazingly talented at satisfying women—” Somewhere behind them, Cale abruptly chokes on thin air.

6.

Jack suddenly crawls over to Jules’ side, clutching her leg desperately, his eyes shimmering and watery. “Jules,” Jack whimpers, voice cracking pathetically as he looks up at her. “Do you think I’m unlovable? Am I doomed to be forever alone because men can’t handle my—my sparkle?” Hannah cackles. "You're a celibate priest with no game, what sparkle?!"

EDIT: In case anyone wants to check out the fic, you can find it here :) I make Goldie Gramps cough blood (with love). I hope y'all enjoy the chaos to come!

[g1rld1ary]

lifeguard!james potter x reader 5

prev

wc: 1225

cw: sexual innuendo, suggestive content, reader is still horny (and so am i)

have been stuck on another fic i've been working on but absolutely smashed this out -- lifeguard!james literally has a mind of its own

james had all but become a part of the furniture in your life. the boys had taken an instant liking to him; similarly fond of his charm and open dorkiness as the girls and you. this meant he was suddenly everywhere, invited to your brunches and late-night walks and, currently, the soccer game you had going on a field near remus' house.

it wasn't a particularly good one. the weather had warmed up after the rain and was back to a sweltering heat that had you all moving sluggishly up and down the grass, kicking the ball between you with a significant lack of zeal. it wasn't long before you gave up altogether, lying back on the grass, feeling each of the itchy blades touch your skin. lily joined you shortly after, red in the face from exertion and sunburn. that left a game of 3v3, with sirius, james and marlene on one team, and peter, remus and mary on the other.

you were more than content to watch the show; the boys had stripped their shirts off and the girls were down to just their sports bras or bikini tops, but you were only focused on james. whilst you'd seen him shirtless a handful of times now down by the pool, in action he was even more glorious.

the sweat glistening on his skin made him look like a bloody fragrance model, glittering in the sun like god herself had crafted him for you to admire. who were you to deny the will of god? you watched happily from under your sunglasses, eyes trained on the way his muscles moved and contorted under his skin, wondering how they would feel under your hands.

"you're drooling," lily teased, reapplying her sunscreen. you rolled your eyes with a scoff but swiped your thumb under your lips just in case. "are you ever going to actually make a move? or do you just love to torment him?" you both laughed at that, glancing over to where the others were running up and down the makeshift pitch.

"i'm waiting for the right time," you explained, "and if he wants it so bad he can do something about it."

at that moment james scored a goal, the ball soaring past mary's incredible dive. his team cheered and celebrated, jumping all over each other despite the sweat and heat. when they parted james looked over at you, pointing to dedicate the goal to you. you mimed being shocked, hand over your mouth, before validating him with a kiss through the air. he committed to the scene, responding with an exaggerated, love-struck stumble before sirius hit him on the forearm to get him to focus.

you giggled at his display, sitting up higher to see the game better. you could feel lily watching you and refused to meet her gaze, scared she'd see the light blush you could feel on your face.

the heat got more bearable in the spot of shade you'd found under a tree and you could feel the energy returning to your body. unwilling to go back into the sun and rejoin the match you nominated yourself cheerleader, jumping around and yelling whenever either of the teams scored.

it was almost half an hour later when the players decided they couldn't go on, agreeing the last goal would determine the winner (they'd lost count of the accurate score ages ago anyway). you and lily got almost too into your roles, lily trying a shockingly good cartwheel as you cheered and clapped.

the game went to james' team, with him scoring the winning goal. it wasn't particularly surprising given his advantageous prior athleticism, but the whole group still celebrated him, cheers and high fives all around. you fulfilled your role, jumping excitedly as you applauded. you caught his glance down to your chest and grinned, bouncing one more time for his benefit. embarrassment flashed across his features momentarily but he recovered -- you could practically see him shift into flirt mode.

"so, when do i get my prize for my heroic win?" he asked, pushing his glasses back up his nose. you paused, pretending to think before shaking your head.

"you're gonna have to impress me more than that, baywatch." if you'd replaced james with a puppy in that moment, you wouldn't have noticed, their eyes were exactly the same.

"you're hard to impress," he pouted and you almost felt bad.

"i'm hard to earn," you corrected, "i'm sure you'll get there eventually, bud."

"bud? you're cruel." james was smiling as he said it so you didn't feel bad, sticking your tongue out and heading off towards marlene. you hoped he was watching you walk away.

the afternoon came to an end as you all had things to attend to, work or family commitments. you and james had ended up walking together, the supermarket only being around the corner from the pool. you'd dropped sirius back to his home on the way and you were glad for the reprieve from his constant teasing.

"how often do you get hit on by the old ladies?" you asked, rummaging around in your tote bag for your uniform -- a black polo totally unsuited for the summer heat. james laughed heartily as he considered the question.

"a little," he confessed, "but they're harmless so i don't mind too much."

"as opposed to me?" you were teasing him, and delighted in the red tinge to his cheeks.

"as opposed to you," he affirmed, "you're something else."

"dangerous?" you asked in a sultry voice, hoping the answer was yes. james hesitated and you were sure he was going to agree with you, but he changed the conversation hastily.

"edna's the worst, of course, she is a woman on the prowl." you both laughed at that, the image of wrinkly old edna coming onto james both entertaining and kind of disgusting.

you turned to face him outside the pool gates and james groaned.

"that should be illegal," he said, staring at you. the tie-up neck strap of your bikini was poking out from under your work polo and the undone buttons were giving james a fantastic view of your cleavage (if you did say so yourself). "they can't let you work looking this good."

"there's not enough people in this stupid town to replace me if i got fired," you laughed, "besides, i'm sure you wouldn't be complaining if you came through my checkout line."

"i'll come through your checkout line anytime you want, hot stuff." you scoffed, both in disbelief at the terrible innuendo and to give yourself time to recover.

"haven't you got lives to save?" was all you could come up with after being surprised by james' boldness. he nodded reluctantly, turning to go with a wave. "might wanna hit the showers before you clock in!" you laughed as you caught sight of his 'little problem'.

"you gonna join me?" he shot back.

"in your dreams, loverboy!" you didn't wait for a response, turning on your heel towards the supermarket. if you'd stuck around any longer you were at real risk of following through with his proposition.

[sheepwavehdg]

HDG recs: Popular ones

Gonna list some of my favorite stories (In no particular order), even if they're popular enough you probably don't need me to tell you about them. I do what the fuck I want.

Abscission by fluxom: the story that truly kickstarted the HDG fandom as the expansive world it became. this sharp romance story follows a terran with severe paranoia and a severely depressed affini as they find love and comfort in each other. also in doing drugs. mind the content warnings!

Through the Looking Glass by Pyxxiestyx and Mothcourt: the quintisential corruption fic, framed around an alice in wonderland allegory. one of the raunchiest fics in the entire setting, and probably one of the better first stories for a new reader.

Courtship by Teagan_the_doll: romance with an affini can be more insidious than you think. a pot of water whose heat gets turned up so subtley that youll be right there with the protag when you realize it was a noncon story the whole time.

Dog of War by Mindcrank: currently the most popular fic in the entire setting, and for damn good reason. a story about a hardened mercenary being turned into a happy princess by a very young and very overconfident youngbloom.

Soar Higher, Fall Farther by sapphicsounds: a story about the inherent sapphic eroticism of two predators hunting each other, while some floret watches from the side. has some of the most vivid, poetic language in the entire setting, and it is absolutely caprivating to read the sheer romance of the fight/sex that these two idiots get up to.

Human Domestication Guide by GlitchyRobo: you almost certainly do not need me to tell you about this one, but why not. While the tone of ogHDG is noticably divergent from later works, it is still an absolutely fantastic abduction and breaking story, that hit me exactly where I needed to be hit at a very particular time in my life. the contract chapter in this story is the most memorable bit of noncon I have ever read.

No Gods, No Masters by kanagen: a small nation state of communists who managed to overthrow the accord locally are discovered by the Affini, and the affini demonstrate that you dont need to be fascististic for them to beleive you belong in thier vines.

Five Lives by PyxxieStyxx: Trusting is hard. very, very hard, especially to those who have been hurt and betrayed the most. the saga of 25, going from tortured government experiment to actualized person, no matter how hard it is for them to be vulnerable.

Good Sensory by sheepwave(me): A fluffy romance that follows both sides of the courtship from a human and affini perspective. celebrates autistic romance and being loved as the person you actually are, rather than the one society tells you you're supposed to be. they're my lists and you cant stop me from including my own stories or putting my girlfreind on twice 😎

Honorable mentions: I havent gotten around to reading more than a few chapters of either of them yet, but ive heard nothing but incredible things about One Analyst's Opinion by stuck_in_pi and The Grand Folia Hotel by keysmasht and have loved the small bit ive had a chance to sink my teeth into!

[joaosnovia]

❦ - el mar, el sol y mi corazón

summary:: a day at the beach w your man (up to you if you’re married or not) and your little son as he tries to teach him how to use a kite. (i tried to make chat gpt summarise the fic for me but they ended up calling gavi a dilf?? bros 20)

warnings:: none!

writers note:: this is shorter than it should be mainly bc it was supposed to be a joao fic but i have sum else for him. ALSO GUYS GIVE ME REQ MY BRAIN ISNT FUNCTIONING RN.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @cherryloveshs ; lmk if u wanna be added!

gavi had always loved the beach, the salty breeze, the sound of waves crashing, the warmth of the sun on his skin. but today, it wasn’t just the ocean drawing his attention; it was the sight of your son sprinting across the sand, his tiny feet kicking up clouds of grains as he chased after a colorful kite.

'papá, look!' your son called, holding up the string as the kite wobbled in the sky.

gavi grinned, jogging over to help. 'hold it steady, campeón. like this.' he crouched down, guiding his son’s small hands. together, they managed to get the kite soaring higher, both of them laughing when the wind tugged it wildly.

you watched from a beach towel, sunglasses perched on your nose and a smile tugging at your lips. seeing gavi like this, barefoot in the sand, hair tousled, eyes crinkled with joy, was something you’d never get tired of. he looked up and caught your gaze, flashing you that grin that always made your heart flip.

'hey!' he called. 'you coming or just gonna admire me from there?'

'bit of both,' you shot back with a smirk, standing to shake off the sand before joining them.

after a while, your son abandoned the kite in favor of the ocean. gavi chased after him, scooping him up just before a wave could crash into his legs. 'too fast for me, huh?' he teased, spinning him around as your son squealed with delight.

'papá, again! again!'

'third time’s the charm,' gavi grinned, twirling him once more before gently setting him down. your son ran back toward the water, kicking at the incoming waves, tiny giggles echoing over the beach.

'he’s got your energy,' you commented, slipping an arm around gavi’s waist.

'yeah, but i don’t remember being that fast at his age,' gavi chuckled, pressing a kiss to your hairline.

after splashing around until your son’s shorts were soaked and his curls clung to his forehead, you coaxed him back to the sand with the promise of snacks. he plopped down on the towel beside you, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. 'best day ever,' he declared between bites of his sandwich.

gavi ruffled his hair. 'glad you’re having fun, campeón.'

after eating, the three of you set out to build a sandcastle. your son insisted it had to have "four towers and a moat," which turned into an ambitious (and messy) endeavor. gavi got way too competitive, carefully smoothing out the castle walls, tongue poking out in concentration.

'you do know it’s just for fun, right?' you teased.

'hey, if we’re building a castle, we’re making it the best one on this beach,' gavi shot back, flicking a bit of sand at you playfully.

your son cackled. 'get mamá!'

gavi grinned devilishly. 'you heard him.' before you could protest, both of them teamed up, tossing handfuls of sand (mostly missing but making you laugh until your sides hurt).

when everyone was sufficiently sandy and the "biggest castle ever" stood proudly (if a little crooked), you lay back on the towel, sighing contentedly. gavi dropped beside you, pulling your son into the space between you both.

'tired yet?' gavi asked, brushing hair from your son’s forehead.

'nooo,' he mumbled, though his eyes betrayed him, drooping with exhaustion.

'liar,' you chuckled.

as the sun began to sink lower, painting the sky in hues of gold and pink, your son fell asleep nestled against gavi’s chest, tiny fingers still clutching a stray seashell. gavi’s hand traced slow circles on his back, eyes soft.

'he’ll sleep all the way home,' you murmured.

'good. means we can blast music without him demanding his cartoons,' gavi joked, but his voice was gentle, gaze fixed on your son’s peaceful face.

you rested your head on gavi’s shoulder, your hand finding his. 'days like this...' you sighed. 'they’re the best.'

'yeah,' gavi agreed, squeezing your hand. 'nothing better.'

as the waves rolled in and the sky deepened into twilight, the three of you stayed there a little longer, sun-kissed, sand-covered, hearts full.

[rainwingmarvel7]

The Household of Raven’s Keep During the Reign of Viserys I

Benjimin Dormaire, Lord of Raven’s Keep

Alayne Dormaire née Mormont, Lady of Raven’s Keep

Heward, Maester

Ser Arthur Crowl, Master-At-Arms

[reveryfics]

Flying

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Male reader

Summary: A crash that happened during your time in the air force was the driving force to your acrophobia and aviophobia, but Sam was determined to change that

A/n: I don't see enough fics for Sam, so I made one myself. Requests open

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The wind whipped around them, biting at Sam's skin, mirroring the icy fear that clawed at his boyfriend's throat. He looked down at the city lights, a dizzying tapestry of sparkling jewels against the velvet night sky. Below, the world seemed to shrink, the towering buildings transforming into insignificant playthings. "Sam," his voice cracked, raw with terror, "I can't. I can't do this."

Sam's heart ached. He knew how deeply the fear was rooted, how the memory of the crash, the flames, the screams, haunted his boyfriend's every waking moment. He reached out, his hand finding its way to the other man's, his touch a silent promise of strength, of unwavering support.

"You don't have to," he whispered, his voice a gentle caress. "We can stop whenever you want. I just... I want you to feel the freedom of flight again. To know that the sky isn't a place of terror, but of wonder."

He saw the flicker of doubt in his boyfriend's eyes, the way his knuckles whitened around the railing, the way his breath hitched in his throat. But then, something shifted in his gaze. A flicker of longing, a desperate yearning for the feeling of the wind beneath his wings, the exhilaration of soaring above the clouds.

"I trust you," his boyfriend finally murmured, his voice barely audible against the howling wind. "But what if I get scared?"

"Then we come down," Sam assured him, his voice firm yet gentle. "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."

He pulled his boyfriend close, the warmth of his body radiating through the thin fabric of their clothes. "I'm here," he whispered, his voice a low rumble against his ear. "Always."

And then, with a deep breath, Sam launched himself into the air, pulling his boyfriend along with him. The initial surge of fear was immediate, a tidal wave of panic threatening to consume him. But then, Sam's arms tightened around him, his grip a comforting anchor. He felt Sam's steady heartbeat against his back, a rhythmic counterpoint to the frantic pounding of his own.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the fear began to recede. The wind, once a terrifying force, now became a symphony, a soothing caress against his skin. He looked down at the city lights, no longer a dizzying spectacle, but a breathtaking panorama. He felt a sense of peace, a quiet joy he hadn't experienced in years.

They soared through the night sky, Sam guiding him with gentle words, his voice a steady reassurance in the wind. And as the minutes passed, the fear began to fade, replaced by a sense of wonder, of exhilaration. He was flying again.

Over the next few months, they continued their flights, each one a little longer, a little higher. Sam was patient, understanding, never pushing him beyond his limits. He celebrated every small victory, every moment of calm, every breath that didn't catch in his throat.

Finally, one evening, as they soared above the city, Sam turned to him. "Why don't you try them?" he suggested softly. "Just for a moment."

His boyfriend hesitated, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and anticipation. Then, with a shaky breath, he agreed to try out the falcon wings. The initial movements were hesitant, clumsy, but slowly, tentatively, he began to guide them through the air.

Sam watched, his heart swelling with pride. He saw the fear in his boyfriend's eyes slowly transform into a look of wonder, of exhilaration. He was flying. He was free.

The crash, the flames, the screams – they were still there, lurking in the shadows of his memory. But for the first time in years, they were no longer the defining moments of his life. He had faced his fear, conquered his demons, and found joy in the sky once more.

And as he soared through the night sky, he knew that this was just the beginning.

[chrisevansonly]

𝒋𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒐 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏 | 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒄

☁︎ charles leclerc x female reader

☁︎ there is nothing better than carving pumpkins with your husband and your little girl

☁︎ no warnings just very sweet dad! charles content ahead<3

☁︎ i’m really excited for this, i love dad!charles so much you guys have no idea..i love this fall celebration fic idea idk why i didn’t do it before…

Across the table lay a sheet of fabric to protect the delicate cherrywood underneath from the pumpkin seeds and goop that was about to take up the space. You and Charles had taken your daughter Alia out to get some pumpkins to carve for Halloween. Of course, you had to take a little road trip to find only the best according to your husband, Alia had the time of her life that day.

“Maman is it almost ready!” your little girl shouted from the top of the stairs

“Alia, qu'avons-nous dit sur le fait de crier à l'intérieur”

Charles voice could be heard from the kitchen as little footsteps descended down the stairs, a shy smile on her face

“Qu'il est trop bruyant à l'intérieur…”

You smiled turning to see your daughter coming over to you, Charles leaning down to press a kiss to her head

“Oui c’est ça mon ange”

“To answer your question princess it’s ready now, do you want to pick your pumpkin?”

Alia’s face lit up as she nodded, carefully studying the three big pumpkins in front of her

“The middle please! So I can be between papa and you maman!”

It never failed to make your heart soar at just how much Alia loved both you and Charles, she constantly wanted to do things with the two of you.

“The middle one is yours then my love, Papa can help you clean out your pumpkin too if you’d like”

The little girl nodded, getting up onto her stool so she stood higher so she could reach everything she needed. Charles carved the top off of her pumpkin with a knife, knowing it was too sharp for her to grab

“So do you have your spoon bébé?”

“Oui papa! Can I start?!”

He laughed

“Yes, go ahead”

The three of you began to scoop out your pumpkins, Alia obviously asking for her dad’s or your help when her arms got tired, which seemed to be more often than not. Once they’d been cleaned out, you helped her trace the face she wanted to carve, her eyes watching you carefully, in awe of the soon to be carved pumpkin.

“Papa comment ça s'appelle déjà?”

“C'est un jack-o-lantern mon amour”

She furrowed her brows looking up at her

“Mais pourquoi?”

A smile tugged at your lips at your daughter’s curiosity, she always wanted to know the what, the why and the how, Charles says she takes on after you.

“Pourquoi ne pas demander à ta maman?”

“Maman?”

Alia turned to look at you, a soft smile on her face

“Yes baby?”

“Why is it called a jack-o-lantern…?”

You pressed a kiss to her cheeks before thinking for a moment

“I think because it reminds people of a lantern…you know when Papa lights a candle sometimes and the light flickers?”

She nods

“Well I think it reminds people of that..”

“Oh okay maman!”

Alia was quiet for the next while as Charles helped her carve out the shapes she’d asked you to draw in the pumpkin. His was already complete as was yours, both of you going with a traditional triangle eyes and smiley shaped mouth. Honestly you’d argue this was some of your best work to date.

While Alia was busy admiring the now finished pumpkin she had Charles came over pressing a kiss to your cheek

“We’re pretty good no?”

You leaned into his touch

“I think so, some of our best I’d say” you replied to which your husband was quick to agree too.

“Do you think she’s going to ask us to get more..?”

In hindsight maybe you should have picked up more than three pumpkins, this activity seemed to enrapture your little girl, and knowing her, she’d want to keep carving as much as she could.

“Well I might have picked up some extra…they’re out in the backyard”

You tilted your head enough to look at him, a gentle smile on his face

“You think of everything don’t you baby?”

“I just always think of my girls…knew Alia might want to make another one”

Leaning up to kiss him you sighed happily

“Worlds best husband and dad award goes to you, as always Char”

Before Charles could answer you Alia let out a few giggles

“Look at Papa’s pumpkin! It’s so funny!”

Charles feigned hurt

“Hey, it doesn’t look funny!”

“Yes Papa! It looks so funny!”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly along with your daughter as she poked at her father’s pumpkin. When stopped laughing she looked between the two of you, her eyes filled with joy

“Peut-on les allumer maintenant?”

This time you nodded, fixing her hair a little bit

“Oui, allez, petite citrouille, papa apportera les allumettes.”

As she took off towards the front door, you and Charles brought the pumpkins over, happy to get some time to spend all together as a family, especially with Charles being away at races or having other obligations with his sponsors. You had each other, and of course your little pumpkin herself, who now would want to carve as many pumpkins as her arms could handle.

Who were you and Charles to stop her, even if you two ended up being the ones who did most of the work.

translations:

Alia, qu'avons-nous dit sur le fait de crier à l'intérieur: Alia, what did we say about shouting inside?

Qu'il est trop bruyant à l'intérieur: that it’s too noisy inside

Oui c’est ça mon ange: yes it is my angel

Papa comment ça s'appelle déjà?: dad, what is it called again?

C'est un jack-o-lantern mon amour: it’s a jack-o-lantern my love

Mais pourquoi?: but why?

Pourquoi ne pas demander à ta maman?: Why don’t your ask your mother

Peut-on les allumer maintenant?: can we light them now?

Oui, allez, petite citrouille, papa apportera les allumettes: yes come on little pumpkin, daddy will bring the matches

[guilty-pleasures21]

Dragon!Miguel - kidnapped!

The main fic turned out much more popular than I expected, so I decided to spoil you guys with a short side story 🤭.

@captain-liminal possible art of Dragon!Miguel x Phoenix!Reader ?

Hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: brief mention of violence.

----------------------------------------------------------

     He marched out of the throne room, glad that the meeting had finally ended: now he could fly off to his wife’s kingdom to join her while she visited her family for a few days. She’d left earlier that day, wanting to spend as much time back home as possible, and though he hadn’t liked the idea of sending his wife off alone, he could never say no to her.

     “Your Majesty!” A palace guard’s frantic voice broke into his thoughts of his pretty little wife and Miguel frowned as he looked up at the man. But then the guard continued and Miguel’s blood ran cold at his words. 

     “The Queen!” he exclaimed, slowing to a stop in front of Miguel. “She’s been kidnapped! We have received a ransom letter - from a group of rebel orcs, it would seem. They caught her midway through her flight back-” He broke off suddenly as Miguel flew down the hallway, racing towards the front entrance of the palace. The guard followed after him, calling after his King in a panic, but Miguel refused to slow down. 

     “Your Majesty!” 

     “Send an army!” Miguel commanded, calling back to him as he soared away from the palace. His body lengthened into its full dragon form as he climbed higher in the sky, his eyes narrowing into reptilian slits and his skin darkening into deep blue scales. He’d make them pay. He’d make sure there was nothing left of those half-witted, foul-breathed, repugnant monsters once he was through with them.

     The orc whom she supposed was the second-in-command snarled at her from between the bars of the cage they’d locked her in.

     “Just give us a feather, Princess! Or else we’ll have to let Lumdum take it from ya,” he threatened, prompting a gleeful snicker from his friend. 

     “Yeah!” Lumdum agreed. “Let me at ‘er! I got a few new fancy tools I been meaning to try out on a pretty little birdie …”

     X shuddered as the orc leered at her, his cracked lips stretching wide to reveal patches of missing teeth. She grabbed the bars of her cage and drew her brows together to glare at them in what she hoped was a threatening manner - Miguel always said she looked especially cute whenever she frowned at him like that, but she didn’t want to be cute now: she wanted to be taken seriously! 

     “You and I both know you will not be getting what you want out of me,” she said, glad that her voice came out steady despite her nerves. “The best you can hope for is to let me go this instant so that my husband might take the smallest shred of mercy on you and not obliterate you into pieces!”

     The orcs glanced at one another for a moment. Then they all burst into laughter, bending over and clutching their stomachs at how adorable she looked, wrinkling her nose at them. 

     “We’ll take our chances, Princess,” the leader - Varbu, she thought she’d heard the others call him - assured her. He started creeping towards her and X moved back to the other end of the cage. She sucked in shallow breaths, trying to stop herself from transforming out of fear - phoenix feathers were one of the most powerful objects next to dragon scales, able to wipe out an entire battlefield’s worth of soldiers if they were set aflame at the right angle, so she didn’t want to give these demented creatures a single opportunity to get one of hers. She whimpered as she pressed herself against the bars, wishing she had even an ounce as much of power as Miguel had - then she could have at least tried to defend herself against these brutes. Her heart thudded in her chest as Varbu’s fat green fingers closed around the iron bars, then the both of them froze as a loud roar echoed throughout the valley. X looked up and a felt wave of relief crash over her as she saw her husband swooping towards her, his deep blue scales glinting in the sunlight, his fiery eyes burning with rage when they landed on her.

     He drew a deep breath into his lungs, then released it again, bathing the valley in flames. The orcs scrambled around in a panic, desperately trying to put out the fire eating away at their clothes, but Miguel refused to grant them a second of respite before he staged his attack. He dived lower and picked up one of the orcs to throw him over the mountains, ignoring his terrified screams as he flew through the air to his death. Then he swiped at another with his claws, splitting him open as he batted him into the now scorched forest nearby. He descended on the last one before he even had a chance to blink, closing his jaw around his head and flinging him far out of his reach from his wife. 

     X transformed into her phoenix form as Miguel released another barrage of flames, allowing the warmth of his fire to heal the injuries she’d sustained when she’d been snatched out of the sky earlier. She cooed happily as her husband made his way over to her, the ground trembling with every step he took. Miguel grabbed hold of the bars and pulled them apart, bending the metal to create a gap for his wife to exit through.

     She was so graceful in her phoenix form, stepping out of the wretched cage and arranging her dazzling feathers before she finally looked up at him with those big, beautiful eyes of hers. Miguel relaxed slightly at the sight of her safe before him and grunted softly before lowering his head to nuzzle her affectionately. His wife wriggled against his cheek, delighted to be reunited with him and he sighed at how soft she felt. Dios, she was perfect. He’d never let her out of his sight again. 

     She stretched her wings as he curled his large body around her and let out another coo to catch his attention. Her husband raised his head in question and she gestured to the sky, eager to get home and see her parents. Miguel snorted in disagreement as he straightened, refusing to let her travel by herself again. Instead, he turned his head to his body, gesturing for her to get on. X rolled her eyes, but flew up to his back anyway, transforming back into her human form and wrapping herself securely around him. He took off into the air once she was comfortable and together, they continued the journey to her parents’ home. 

     The King and Queen of Risendelle paced back and forth in their throne room, anxiously awaiting any news on their precious daughter. Finally, a palace guard burst through the doors, grabbing both of their attentions. 

     “Your Majesties!” he exclaimed between shallow breaths. “It is the Dragon King! He is almost here!” 

     The King and Queen rushed to greet their son-in-law, the both of them holding their breaths as they watched him ascend to the ground. They ran over to him once he’d landed and let out twin sighs of relief when they saw their daughter safe and sound on his back. X slid to the ground and let herself be wrapped up by her parents, hugging them back as tightly as they did her. 

     “My baby!” the Queen screeched. “Are you all right? Did they … Did they hurt you?!”

     “Your brother left as soon as we received the news!” the King informed her before she even had a chance to respond. “He brought some of the army with him, so they should-”

     Miguel huffed in interruption, surrounding the three of them in a circle of smoke. He grunted when they all turned to look at him, then shrank back down into his human form. His arms came around his wife almost immediately, pulling her back against his chest and holding her close. 

     “There’s nothing left of them,” Miguel informed his wife’s father. “The prince may return to spend time with his sister.”

     The King reached up and gave his son-in-law’s shoulder a grateful squeeze. “Thank you, son. We appreciate your intervention.”

     “My wife-” A growl escaped his throat as he tried to respond and Miguel tightened his grip on X as he took a moment to calm himself down. X brushed her thumbs across the back of his hands where they were clasped around her abdomen and Miguel felt some of the heat dissipate from his body. He cleared his throat and tried again. “My wife is my most precious treasure. I will never let anything happen to her!” His fangs shot out in anger and he let out an involuntary snarl at the thought. The Queen nodded in understanding and brushed a loose strand of X’s hair behind her ear. 

     “Thank you, sweetheart,” she told Miguel, glad that her daughter had found someone so enamoured with her. “Perhaps the two of you would like to get some rest after your journey? We’ll have the maids call you when dinner is ready.”

     X twisted her head back to look up at her husband, blinking at him with her curly lashes. Miguel lowered his head to nuzzle the crook of her neck with his nose and she turned back to her mother to place a hand on her forearm. 

     “We’ll see you at dinner, mother,” she agreed, before walking into the palace. Her husband’s arms stayed glued to her waist as she led them both down the hallway, making her way towards her childhood bedroom. Miguel tugged her back to him once they were alone and bent over to press soft kisses to her skin, his lips making their way up the side of her neck to her cheek. X giggled at the ticklish feeling and turned around to face him, delighting in the feeling of his hard muscles as she placed her hands on his broad chest. She stretched onto her toes to give him a quick kiss, then cupped his face in her hand when she’d lowered herself back to her feet. She brushed her thumb across his cheek and Miguel pouted down at her, allowing himself to be vulnerable enough for her to see the terror that had overcome him at the thought of her being hurt. X wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers making their way into his hair, and pressed a tender kiss to his cheek as she held him close. 

     He stroked her back gently, focusing on the familiar smoky scent of her to soothe his pounding heart. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, showering her with the occasional kiss as she tickled his scalp softly. Finally, he pulled back and trailed his gaze over her, taking her in and reassuring himself that she was safe. She stretched up to kiss him again and Miguel bent over to repeat the gesture before taking a step back. He stretched his arms out and transformed into his full dragon form, his large body taking up the entirety of her bedroom. X raised her eyebrows at him in question and he circled the room before settling down on the ground, his head resting on her bed. 

     She could still feel some leftover adrenaline from her ordeal, but she didn’t want him to panic any more than he already had. So, she sighed and flashed him an exasperated look, her lips curling at the ends with amusement. Miguel gave her a beseeching look in return and she shook her head before transforming into her phoenix form. 

     He wagged his tail excitedly as she fluttered into the little nest he’d created for her with his body. She was so beautiful in her creature form, her golden feathers glimmering in the light, her brown eyes wide and alluring, her slender body stretching out so gracefully. He reached over to nuzzle her with his cheek, relishing the feeling of her silky feathers against his scales, then he rested his head back on the bed. He watched quietly as she shifted around, getting herself comfortable. Then she closed her eyes and drifted off into sleep, safe in the knowledge that her husband would protect her. Miguel lifted his head to stroke her feathers again, unable to resist how adorable his pretty little wife was. X opened one eye and cooed at him in irritation, and Miguel gave her one last nuzzle before laying his head back down and quickly falling asleep himself. 

     The maid knocked on the door to the princess’s bedroom, then gently pushed it open. “Ma’am? Dinner is- Oh!”

     She startled as she was met by an enormous dragon filling up the entire space. Miguel opened one eye to look at her, his expression unreadable as he flicked his tail back and forth, waiting for her to speak. The maid gulped and lowered her head before gesturing outside. “T-The … The Queen … D-Dinner … is ready … Your Majesty.”

     She snuck a glance at Miguel and he huffed at her request before nodding to his wife, firmly asleep in his embrace. The maid nodded quickly, her eyes widening with understanding. 

     “O-Oh!” she gasped. “Yes, Your Majesty. I shall inform the Queen that the Princess is still resting.” She fell into a bow as she backed out of the room, staunchly avoiding Miguel’s gaze as she closed the door quietly and left. X wriggled around as she started to awaken and she blinked up at Miguel sleepily before cooing at him in question. Miguel reached over to brush her feathers with his cheek, gently nudging her back to sleep, but she transformed back into her human form instead.

     “Miguel? ¿Qué pasó, querido? What time is it?” She patted his nose, then started trying to climb over his tail to get to the door. Miguel transformed back as well and rushed over to grab her waist, turning her around and pulling her against him. His wife laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck and he sprinkled kisses along her cheek and down the side of her neck. 

     “Querida …” he whined, not wanting to leave their little cocoon just yet. “Te amo, mi reina.”

     “I love you, too, Miguel.” She ran her fingers through his hair, then smiled up at him when he straightened. “But I’m starving, mi amor! Let’s eat!”

[plor-bindery]

Bound: Under Giant Mountains by wolfpants

The delightful, evocative, and thoughtful Under Giant Mountains by @wolfpants is up next in my tour of wolf’s fic I bound. This landscape of this fic is soaring: mountains and dragons and wilderness. But at the same time, its subject matter is as small and carefully contained as Harry's postwar pain. This is a Harry who is struggling, and struggling to even admit he's struggling. At the risk of spoiling anything, the way wolf writes Harry's breakdown and surrender is so, so soft and sweet and real. I love a Harry who confronts any danger head-on except the danger of what's going on inside him.

(Fun fact: this fic was posted while I was in the midst of writing Polar Night/Midnight Sun and I was like OH GOOD WOLF HAS DONE THE DRACO IN NORWAY THING AND DONE IT BETTER THAN I COULD, I CAN STOP WRITING NOW but of course, I didn't stop; I let wolf's words inspire me onwards, and this is another reason why I love fandom: the overlapping of writerly worlds, the echoes and resonances we experience as creators and fans.)

For this bind, I chose a relatively simple aesthetic, but couldn't resist inserting little tiny dragons as scene breaks.

More process and materials talk under the cut.

Materials: This was my first go at making bookcloth! I had purchased a little remainder scrap of forest green cotton at the fabric store and only noticed after ironing it out and laminating it to the tissue that there were stripes of sun damage on the creases of the cloth, sigh. I had to start over. I used mulberry tissue but some of the fibres are palpable through the cloth, which I am not wild about. Still -- homemade bookcloth! Fun!

Text block is printed on 24 lb cream letter cut down to a quarto bind, and is actually the first bind I did where my grain direction was correct. (I know, I know...) Sewn on two linen tapes with waxed linen thread.

Endbands (which I neglected to photograph, apparently) are machine made.

End papers are just scrapbook paper, nothing special.

The decoration is gold HTV. Hoo boy. More on that shortly.

Process: My first quarto bind! First bookcloth making! First bind with the grain direction correct! So many firsts!

That being said, there was nothing particularly special about this bind's process. My biggest struggle (which is visible) was the gold HTV. I think I've since cracked the code more on how to apply larger bits of HTV without making marks in it (short version: higher heat, less pressure, more patience) but I was still struggling here, as you can see. That being said, I do love the sort of hobbity vibe of the rune-ish font and the dragon/mountain.

I made myself a copy of this as a test first, and the HTV is even more messed up on that. :| Also, I realized when reading it afterwards, I fucked up the page order in one signature. This is fixed (god, I hope it's fixed) in wolf's copy.

Signature length is a tricky thing with case binding/sewn binding in general. I wound up needing a bunch of blank pages at the back of the typeset so I did something I have since done in other binds: added a "selected praise for" section where I copy/pasted AO3 comments into the text block like literary reviews. I love this so much: the juxtaposition of the formal literary trope with the squee and all-caps and hype of fandom commenters. I am not the first to do this, of course, but you'll see it appear again in future binds from me for sure. (And of course I put my own comment first. OF COURSE I did. Binder's privilege!)

[lostinwildflowers]

I Wish I May, I Wish I Might

Sierra Six x Reader

Summary: You and Six find yourselves abandoned in the vast expanse of Russia's wilderness after a mission goes wrong. What happens when your misconceptions and the cold of the starry night stand between you and survival? -> “Where do we go from here?” + “Hopefully to a better place.”

Word Count: 4.2K

Warnings: canon typical violence, swearing/yelling, hurt/comfort, slight miscommunication, but fluff?

A/N: Here with a win, win, win! A Goose Groupie's Writer's Club submission, a fic I've been rotting over for a while, and my husband❤ Hope y'all enjoy this one!! - Birch<3

Blackness.

Tiny flecks of white are woven through the darkened fabric of the sky, barely breaking up the vastness the night seemed to hold. There's an alluring call in the sky tonight, one that makes you want to stay for a while - stay, eyes glued on the stars above.

But you can't.

Below the sea of twinkling lights in the sky, there's a vast compound glowing orange. The building's windows reflect the luminous dance of firelight - the deep orange flames curling up the walls, climbing higher and higher into the night.

Heat pulses through the air despite the frigid temperatures and snow on the ground. The inches of white are dampening under the warmth, melting to show hardened, gray concrete underneath.

It makes for a dangerous place to run, but you have no other choice.

Your heartbeat is loud in your ears, the rhythmic lub-dub dulling at the sounds of metal whining under the rising temperature, the crackle of the fire, and the ping of gunshots raining down from behind you.

It's your internal metronome, a natural calling to keep placing one slippery footstep in front of the other. That, and the pit in your gut that screams everything is about to give in, and you only have mere seconds to get out.

You aren't wrong. A deep groan from the building behind you floods the quavering air, but you can't turn around. Your lungs burn at the need for oxygen and the smoke that fills them, but you have to push forward.

Your gaze focuses on the darkened figure in front of you, the one leading the way out of the hellhole you found yourself in. He was wrestling with his fight-or-flight senses, just like you.

Careful but fast steps guide the two of you away from the compound, and you trust that he knows where he's going. There's only one way out of this place, and it's not on foot.

Just as the two of you make your way to the high, barbed-wire fence surrounding the perimeter, the building gives in. The tall smokestacks crumple inward as the internal structures collapse, throwing soot and debris soaring through the air.

This time, you can't help but turn and look. There are indistinct figures fleeing from the wreckage, and you call over your shoulder, "We need to get the hell out of here, Six!"

The man in front of you, Six, grunts back in reply, "Yeah, I'm working on it." You go to shoot your partner a glare, but the distinct firing of bullets draws your attention instead. You instantly duck for cover, Six doing the same.

You know they come from the people fleeing the building, you had just killed their boss and destroyed their building. It was a direct order - the entire goal of the mission. Who were you to question your superiors?

"On me," Six's voice comes out, husky and out of breath from your daunting escape. With a quick glance at the oncoming attackers, you huff to the bearded blonde, "Copy that."

At your confirmation, Six stands and starts returning rounds, his gun loud above you as you scramble to get up and continue in the direction you had been headed. Six is right behind you, covering your flank as you set your eyes on a row of unmanned black SUVs.

Bingo.

"Cars up ahead," you huff out as you start to run, your steps slipping slightly on the slush under your feet. Six turns to follow you, reloading his weapon with rapid precision as he asks, "Any enemies?"

"Negative," you call back as you start gaining on the vehicles. You are forced to a stop as a large piece of debris falls out of the sky in front of you. It slams into the line of cars like thunder, the air thrumming with a deafening blast.

The gasoline in the engines of the vehicles ignites at the burning debris, a wild explosion arching high into the night. The heat from the blast makes you recoil and hunch over, Six pausing behind you to do the same.

Despite the frosty, Russian air, the heat from the flames draws a sweat to your brow. For a moment, you think the blast has broken your eardrums - the world is quiet. Too quiet.

Then you hear Six.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," he groans as he drags himself to his feet. You follow suit, moaning as you blink off the haze of the blast. It's hard to focus - your senses are all but shot.

Between the hot and cold tugging at you, your body doesn't know how to feel. Your ears ring with the effects of the blast, but you can still hear the pings of gunshots, and you know your window of escape is dwindling.

Six's hand on your back helps ground you, and you can barely hear him pant out, "Still with me?" Your gaze flashes up to meet his own, the bearded blonde's angled features cast in an orange glow from the flames illuminating his figure.

For a moment, he looks angelic, the illuminating light giving a soft halo around his bulky frame. But then, you can see the cut on his forehead leaking blood, and the hair that's fallen onto his forehead from exertion.

No time to dawdle. You grip onto his shoulder to finish hauling yourself to your feet and give him a nod, "Yeah, let's get the fuck out of here."

This makes Six crack a small smile, and then it's gone as he snaps back into fight-or-flight. His blue gaze, which was usually clear and bright like water, is dark as it scans the compound.

Then, it freezes on a section of the barbed-wire fence. He points and starts dragging you alongside him, grunting, "There, the fence is broken near the ground. We can crawl under."

You follow the direction of his arm and see the gap in the wiring, and you pull yourself out of his grasp. His touch sears you more than the lick of flames now growing behind you, but you have to force the thought out of your mind.

With clumsy steps through the slick snow, the two of you make it to the fence line. The rain of bullets upon you is never-ending, and you can hear the shouts of enemy soldiers getting louder as you buckle to your knees.

You scramble through the dampened snow, your fingers digging into the icy particles as you haul yourself through the gap. The fence digs at your clothes, catching on your gear, but you persist. There is an air of panic about you, the inability to defend yourself in this position gnawing at the back of your mind.

But Six is there to pick up the slack, firing his reloaded gun at the soldiers. One by one, their distant figures drop to the ground in an unceremonious slump.

With a few final thrashes, you free yourself from the fence, now on the outside of the compound, covered in snow. The sky seems to crack open as Six drops to his knees, white flurries descending upon you in a dizzying blizzard.

The snowflakes catch the light of the flaming compound, the world a hazy orange. With the cover of snowfall and your own gun raised to watch Six's back, he army crawls through the gap in the fence as you just had.

The ground on this side of the fence is firmer, despite there being several more inches of snow coating the ground. Here, the landscape is dense with dark, scraggly trees laden with limbs curling down under the weight of snow.

Untouched by the flames, the only markings in the snow are the footsteps you and Six leave behind as you turn away from the compound. It's too difficult to run, now - the snow comes up to the middle of your shin and is heavy with moisture.

Six leads the way through the thick Russian woods, the light of the moon your saving grace at navigating the thickets and hinterland. The sky is still black - it's the middle of the night after all.

Even with smoke filling the air of the compound far behind you, the stars manage to twinkle and shine.

Six is quiet as he pushes forward through the gullies and frozen streams, his large footprints making your path easier. You deliberately set your feet in the snow imprinted by his boots in an attempt to save some energy.

His strides are long, though, and it takes effort to keep up with him. You force yourself to take a deep breath to try to calm the heaving of your chest, the air sharp and crisp in your nose. The scent of smoke is gone, leaving only the whisps of pine and soil behind.

The tips of your fingers and the point of your nose are starting to sting from the cold, so you tuck your hands into your tactical vest the best you can. Your nose will have to suffer, for now, and you pray that frostbite won't have to be a consideration for a while.

Six's pace starts to slow down after half an hour of hiking, and you force yourself to gasp out, “Where do we go from here?” The question hangs in the wintry air before it seems to swirl away with the harsh breeze that shakes the trees around you.

“Hopefully to a better place," Six's voice comes out muffled ahead of you. He hasn't turned to check on you since the two of you set off into the Russian wilderness, and you wonder if he has a plan.

Time slinks by, and your legs ache from the exertion of the never-ending and winding trails of wildlife that Six seems to follow. Without adrenaline coursing through your veins, the physical activity seems overwhelming. Six isn't much better; his pace has rapidly declined, and you can hear him take a deep breath through his mouth every couple of steps.

Then, you hear his voice, breathy and light, "I think they'll have given up on us by now." You almost flinch at the sound, but you quickly recover and huff out, "They probably think we'll die out here." Which we still might.

Your thought is one that you both share, but neither of you says anything about it. Instead, Six motions to a small clearing unmarred by the shadows of trees. There is an untouched layer of snow coating the ground, and the moonlight pooling in makes the flat area glow in a cool blue light.

You force yourself forward once more, a wave of energy coursing through you at the thought of resting. Your feet drag through the snow now, no longer able to keep up with Six's long strides. The crunch of snow underfoot is now background noise as you blink up at the sky above you.

Ahead, Six's broad figure stops next to an old, dead tree. The trunk of the deciduous is smooth from years of use from animals rubbing on it, and Six brushes a large area of snow away from the base of it.

Six is heaving as he slumps to the ground, his mouth parting and his eyes fluttering closed as he leans back against the tree trunk. You stop a few feet away, panting and looking around at the expanse of the clearing.

The bearded blonde peeks one eye open at you and grunts, "You alright?" You glance over at his relaxed figure and shrug, sniffling, "Yeah, just tired and starting to get cold."

He's quiet for a moment, then he takes a deep breath and offers, "You can sit on my lap. Share body heat, you know." It's casual, the way he says it, but it makes a pang run through you.

You blink at him once and then shake your head, "That won't be necessary. I'll be okay." Six just raises an eyebrow at you and then pats his thigh, scoffing, "Oh, c'mere."

You shove your hands deeper into your vest as a chill shoots up your spine, and another pang of emotion hits you. You take a shaky deep breath as you state as evenly as you can, "I can't."

Now, Six frowns. You can see confusion on his features, the slope of his nose, and the curve of his cheek tinged in a cool, white light from the moon.

"What the fuck do you mean you can't? You can walk over here," he once again scoffs. You take a step away from him as the emotion hits you again - longing.

It's one that you've felt for a while now. The bearded blonde in front of you has had that effect on you since you met him. His dry jokes and quick wit had you charmed before you realized it.

Of course, he was a beautiful man. Anyone would be lucky to be with him, and that was what caused your longing. You weren't the only one who had affections for Six.

And you were pretty sure he felt the same way about her.

Your feet crunch in the snow underneath you, and you wobble for a second as you look away and grumble, "I just- can't, okay?" You know Six's blue gaze is raking over your figure, trying to figure out your evasiveness.

Somehow, his gaze on you makes your skin burn hotter than the flames licking at you just over an hour ago. It makes your nerve endings sing, ready to fire at any given moment.

Chills shoot up and down your spine in nervousness, and the combination of hot and cold makes you want to throw up. His gaze makes you light-headed, unable to think straight.

So you avert your gaze, waiting for his response. It comes a moment later, annoyance lacing his voice, "So you'd rather die out here from frostbite than touch me for warmth?" There is an edge to his voice - one that you can't quite place the meaning of.

It could be anything. Being out in the middle of the Russian woods after a mission went south, it could be flat-out exhaustion. With the conversation you were having, it could be a simple surprise at your will to be independent in the face of freezing to death.

Deep down, you want to think it's a bit of hurt - that after all the missions and time you've spent together, you couldn't bring yourself to touch him. And maybe that hurt his feelings.

Realistically, you knew that wasn't the case. He likely just thought you were being stupid. It was stupid, really.

You inhale sharply and roll your eyes at him, "It's not like that." Six looks at you incredulously and then motions vaguely with his hands, "It's exactly like that."

It's silent between the two of you after the words leave his lips. There's an undeniable tension in the air now, the frigid wind doing nothing to stop the intensity of your (colored) gaze locked on his.

Six shuffles and starts, "Look, if it's because you think-" "It's because of Dani!" you yelp. The words slip out faster than you can stop them, and you curse yourself as your stomach drops in apprehension.

Aggravatingly, Six just raises an eyebrow at you and retorts, "What about her? She's not even here." You stare at him in disbelief for a second, your heart rate picking up speed again.

Blood seems to roar in your ears as you turn away and pull your hands out of your tactical vest, groaning into them. Your feet move before you tell them, walking in a small circle away from the bearded blonde.

Six, obviously confused, crosses his arms over his chest but throws one hand up in the air, reiterating, "What about her?!" His voice rises in intensity, and you can feel the air start to crackle with an unnamed hostility.

Your feet pause, and you look over your shoulder at him, and you counter, "Because of you and her!" Six just stares at you in utter confusion, and he sits up straighter against the trunk as he mulls over your words.

His brows have furrowed into a deep-set frown, and you look away to wipe at your face in frustration. Your mind is spinning as you rub at your eyes, your heart slamming against your ribcage with unease.

You can't help but look back at the bearded blonde, and you find he is already looking at you. He shrugs in exasperation, "Me and her? We're mission partners, just like you and I!"

The two of you are all but yelling at each other now, emotions running rampant. You could scream. You brush the hair out of your face and laugh humorlessly, "I see the way she looks at you, Six! And I see the way you look at her!"

He takes a deep breath and lowers his voice a notch, "What, like I trust her? Because I do trust her, Y/n. She's a great agent." His words shoot an arrow through your chest at the honesty in them.

You can tell he's being genuine, and it makes a lump form in the back of your throat. He's not finished, though, and he continues, "And you know what? She trusts me, too. I'm the best at what I do, of course, she's going to trust me."

You roll your eyes again and spin on your foot, fuming. You throw both hands up in the air, your eyes fluttering closed as you shout, "God, Six! She's in love with you!"

The electricity in the air seems to snap as silence once again falls over the clearing. The odd and lazy snowflakes catch in your hair, the sky void of clouds as you bite your tongue harshly.

You hold your breath as you clamp your eyes shut, unable to open them to see the look on Six's face. Your body doesn't know what hurts, and you can feel the lump in your throat break as tears burn at the edge of your eyes.

The wind is cold on your cheeks as the tears stream down the curve of them, biting and nipping at the delicate skin. You exhale a short breath and mumble, "I can't because she's in love with you and I know you feel the same way about her."

It is silent.

The breeze fades away, and the rustling of branches quiets. All you can hear is the blood pounding in your ears and the sound of your heart splintering in your chest.

When a few moments go by and you don't hear anything, you force your eyes to open. Instantly, you are surprised. Six's figure, which had once been bathed in a cool, pale light, is now painted with the tones of green, blue, and purple.

You then notice the snow surrounding him also reflects those colors, and you glance around the clearing. Every surface covered in snow is shimmering in a myriad of lights.

Something within tells you to look up, and when you do, your fists unclench and your mouth parts in surprise. Where you expect to find the dark of the night dusted with stars, you see a mirage of light instead.

Aurora borealis covers the sky - pale greens dancing with faded blues and jaded purples. The upper atmosphere shimmers and shifts as the colors blend together and then separate again.

Your mouth parts in awe at the natural beauty above you, the argument with Six momentarily forgotten. The light catches in your eyes, making your tears reflect the cool-toned light glinting down on you.

It's still. The world seems to pause as the sky leaps and launches above you in a graceful waltz. All you can manage to do is whisper to yourself, "The sky is so beautiful."

Apparently, you aren't as quiet as you think you are, and you hear Six's voice reply, now gentle, "Yes, it is." When you will yourself to look over at him, your breath is pulled out of your lungs.

Six's blue gaze is trained on you, his eyes boring into your soul with an intensity that makes butterflies bloom in your stomach. The confusion is now gone from his face - instead replaced by a soft, tender look.

You've never seen him look at you, or anyone, like this before, and it makes that uneasiness wash back over you. You blink away from his figure for a moment, brushing the tears from your eyes and off your cheeks.

Six's head cocks to the side as he leans back against the tree trunk again, his body language relaxing. He waves his hand in a "come hither" motion, and he reiterates gently, "Come here."

You can tell it's an order despite the softness of his voice, but a barrier in your mind prevents you from moving. Instead, you throw your hands up in the air and sniffle, "I just told you that I can't because-" "You've got it all wrong," he cuts you off, his voice laced with that edge, a warning.

You stare at him blankly before motioning at him, "How? How do I have this wrong? It seems pretty damn obvious to me." You can tell you are going into a defensive mode, your brain trying to protect the feelings you've held so closely to your heart.

The bearded blonde sighs at you, his eyes shutting momentarily before flitting back up to your shivering figure. He juts his chin out at you and unzips the front of his track jacket, and repeats, "Come. Here."

Your teeth chatter without warning as a wave of chills runs over you, the breeze once again picking up. You wiggle your toes as numbness prickles at the digits, and when you lock eyes with your partner, you see the intensity in his gaze that screams to not argue.

With a quick breath, you try to steel yourself, ducking your head down and wrapping your arms around yourself as you make your way over to the bearded blonde. You stop next to him, unsure of what to do.

He blinks up at you, pale green light dancing over his face as he urges quietly, "Sit on my lap." You don't say anything, you just give him a nod and slowly step over him so that your back is to him. Six pulls the jacket wider so you don't get caught on it, but then closes his arms around you once you settle yourself onto his lap.

Slowly, you lean back against Six's chest, and he doesn't rush you. Only when your back is flush against him do his fingers work on catching the zipper together again. He pulls the now-closed jacket up as high as he can, the loose material of the tracksuit jacket now pulled taut with your body against him.

You can feel the heat radiating from Six's chest, and you can't deny that it's a pleasant feeling. You just tuck your arms closer around yourself, fighting off the heat that threatens to dust your cheeks despite the cold air.

There are a million questions hanging on the tip of your tongue, but you can't bring yourself to ask any of them. Instead, you wait on Six to elaborate, and cock your head up to look at the swirling sky.

You feel him shuffle underneath you, his arms coming up to wrap around your frame as he leans the two of you back further against the trunk of the tree. It makes viewing the sky a little easier, but then you feel his chin rest on the top of your head, and the butterflies in your belly bloom again.

A sigh falls from his lips, and he murmurs down to you, "The sky is beautiful tonight." A moment passes, and he lifts his head off of yours, leaning down ever so slightly to peer at you.

With your gaze focused on the northern lights, you don't seem to notice the subtle movement. You just hum in agreement to his statement, your eyes scouring the mystifying lights and stars twinkling behind them.

"There's one thing missing," you whisper back to him, your voice quiet as you watch the purples smooth into vibrant pinks. You swallow thickly and then clear your throat, "A shooting star to make a wish on."

You shuffle back against Six as his heat warms you, and his arms tighten around you ever so slightly at your movement. The bearded blonde is quiet, and then he murmurs, "What would you wish for if there was one?"

You huff up at him, this time playfully, and you quip, "If I tell you what it is, it won't come true." You turn your head to look up at Six, and a pang of nerves fires through you when you see he's already looking down at you.

He cocks an eyebrow at you and he whispers lowly, "Wanna bet?" His right hand releases its grip around the front of you, moving to slowly cup your left jaw and turn your face toward his.

Above you, the northern lights part for a few seconds, and the white trail of a falling meteorite can be seen sailing across the sky.

Your breath catches in your throat at the proximity of the bearded blonde, and before you know it, your nose is brushing against his, and his lips land on yours.

I wish I may. I wish I might.

Have the wish I wish tonight.