#his face journey of pure anger ever since he was in the meeting room and learned about the hidden info of the CI

[lonestardust]

can't stop getting caught up in carlos' headspace, like how the case has never actually moved forward to get stalled and everything has been static and suddenly it's a vortex and carlos is shooting almost literal daggers at campbell, ready to take him down here and now, like how all of this anger that has been compulsively sustaining carlos has now fully culminated to its peak. like he was tangled into this decoy for too long since he joined the rangers and he's only seeing it now through another smoke screen that throw him back to square one of pointing his finger at the wrong person. like almost coming full circle to the worst day of his life but it was actually his deliverance this time!!!!!

[stevie-petey]

at arm's length

You fixed his hair and made a face in the mirror, just to get him to laugh, and you smiled when it worked. “I think you look handsome.” “Yeah, sure.” Steve pushed you away, though his arm stayed loosely wrapped around your side. He had always somehow done this, holding you at arm’s length with a possessiveness to it.  You would come to learn that the possessiveness never really goes away. Not in the way either of you may wish for it to during nights two years from tonight. 

Summary: you and steve found each other when you were eleven; he's held you at an arm's length ever since, suffocating you

Rating: general, suggestive themes

Warnings: toxic relationship, heavy angst, allusions to sex, some stancy, fem!reader, use of y/n, not proofread so pls be kind

Words: 2.9k

Before you swing in: where did this come from ? no clue ! this is pure angst though, no happy ending, all just heartbreak and a very toxic steve. beware. prepare. have fun !

-

Neither of you know how it started.

You aren’t sure when you allowed the lines to be crossed. Steve isn’t sure when he realized he wanted to cross them. 

One night he had simply wanted to crawl through your window.

And, one night, you let him. 

��We shouldn’t be doing this,” you always whisper against his skin in between highs and desperation. 

“I know,” he always kisses the patch of skin just below your ear before encasing you, silencing you.

You’re not sure if he kisses the patch of skin as a promise or as an apology. For what he’s putting you through, for the ignored glances in school, for the way his body stills when someone says your name when he’s around, for the way you always see it.

Afterwards, Steve never stays long. He picks up his clothes as the quiet in your room overwhelms him. He feels your eyes follow him in the dark as he gets dressed and you remain in your bed, sprawled out wanting, waiting, mourning. 

There’s never any malice or anger in your eyes when you watch him, and sometimes Steve resents you for it. He wishes you’d make it easier for him to leave. 

Instead you always watch him with interest, a slight glint in your eye as if you know more than he does; Steve wants to mold a crease between your brows and turn your mouth down with his fingers so that your face isn’t as angelic and understanding. 

“Drive safe.”

Your whispered words are the final blow to the thin wall of glass Steve hides behind. You wish him a safe journey home every time he drives to your house to climb through your window and take more from you than he deserves. 

He hates it.

He hates you. 

Yet every night Steve crawls through your window.

And every night you let him in. 

– 

No one knows how it started.

Your friendship with Steve Harrington was an oddity within Hawkins. 

One day the two of you sat down together during lunch in the sixth grade, and the entire middle school cafeteria went quiet. Everyone had stared at you and whispered, wondering who you were and why you were sitting with someone above your rank, someone who ran with kids like Tommy Hagan.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you had mumbled to Steve, tugging at your sweater with an insecurity you can only feel when you’re eleven. 

“I know.” Steve hadn't seemed to feel this same sense of insecurity at eleven as he popped a french fry into his mouth with a shrug, uncaring. “But who cares?”

You remember looking down at your food, embarrassed and unsure about it all. You’d been standing at your locker merely minutes ago as you looked around helplessly, lost in the school your mom had promised you’d enjoy this time. 

Then Steve had found you.

He had been on his way to the lunch room, late to meet up with his friends, when he had seen you. He will always remember the way you’d been holding yourself, then. You were drawn in, looking around the empty hallways with a wonder in your eyes, despite your obvious fear, that Steve had never seen before in someone his age. 

Steve couldn’t help himself. 

He had asked if you were lost and the way your eyes widened at his question made something within him stir. He watched as a blush spread across your cheeks, shy and nervous, and Steve knew then and there that he couldn’t ever leave you alone. There was something in your eyes, in the way you had looked at him in that moment with that same wonder that had made Steve stop in the first place. 

Soon enough everyone in Hawkins Middle watched as your friendship unfolded. 

It was innocent enough, almost imperceptible to those who weren’t paying attention, but everyone knew. 

Steve was never outwardly friendly with you following your first day meeting him, although he was inseparable from you in his own ways. He would walk you to your classes and always sat a few seats behind you so that he could keep an eye on you. Everyone saw how his eyes never left you. 

You never asked why Steve wouldn’t include you with the rest of his friends. He never introduced you to them, yet he made you promise that if they ever said anything to you that you’d tell him. You promised him, swore to him that you would, and the promise seemed to calm something within Steve. 

“Why?” You had asked him afterwards, not understanding why it seemed so important to Steve that you’d tell him if his friends were ever mean to you. 

“Because you’re my friend.” He stood by your locker as he waited for you to gather your books. People walked past the two of you, whispering as they always did, but he had learned how to ignore them.

You remember frowning, feeling a pit forming in your stomach at his words. “But they’re your friends, too.”

“No, they’re not.” Steve scoffed at you and shoved his hands into his jean pockets.

���But you’re always with them.”

He looked down at his scuffed sneakers, then. “They follow me around. I don’t mind it that much, my dad says it makes boys look cool.”

“Your dad?”

Steve will never understand why he had told you about his dad that day, but he would come to learn that you always somehow made him weak against the things that darkened his mind; how you were always the one he confessed to.

“Can we go to class now?”

“Sorry,” you grabbed the last of your books and closed your locker. You smiled at Steve, you will always remember how hard you had tried to calm him down, make him comfortable around you, and you will always remember how you had placed your hand on his arm. “Let’s go to class.”

Steve flinched at your touch, and you would come to learn that touches weren’t something he was accustomed to; how it would be because of you that he learned what it feels like to be warmed by someone’s fingertips. 

– 

Steve isn’t sure when he became King Steve. 

He thinks it was sometime during his freshman year of high school when he shot up a few inches during the summer and grew his hair long. 

It had been your idea, growing his hair out, because you knew he liked it when you played with it.

“I look like a douche, Y/N.” Steve groaned when he had looked in your mirror. Sometime between sixth and seventh grade, he had started going to your house after school and on the weekend. He claimed it was because your mom was always nice to him, but deep down you knew it was because he enjoyed having you to himself. 

You fixed his hair and made a face in the mirror, just to get him to laugh, and you smiled when it worked. “I think you look handsome.”

“Yeah, sure.” Steve pushed you away, though his arm stayed loosely wrapped around your side. He had always somehow done this, holding you at arm’s length with a possessiveness to it. 

You would come to learn that the possessiveness never really goes away. Not in the way either of you may wish for it to during nights two years from tonight. 

But two years ago you leaned into the arm that still held onto you and played with the hair that had only grown long because of you. “I mean it, you know.”

Steve’s eyes met yours in the mirror, and he saw the wonder there again, though now that you were both fifteen with a shared history, the wonder was now accompanied by a fondness that Steve couldn’t bear himself to look into for long. He loved your eyes, he loved the way you looked at him, but it always burned. 

Thick silence had started to crawl in between you two, then. 

Steve had grown a few inches and his jawline had sharpened and his skin evened out. One day, before your very eyes, he had stopped looking like the eleven year old boy who found you in the hallway. As you stared at him in the mirror that night, you realized just how beautiful he had become, and somehow, even then, you knew that this beauty would strangle you.

The silence had started to grip your neck, so you cleared your throat and tried to pretend that nothing had changed, even though everything had changed in that moment. “It’s late, your parents will want you home soon.”

“They probably don’t even notice I’m gone right now, Y/N.” The moment had been broken and Steve now felt the same fury that had been building within him ever since he was eight. The anger threatened to spill over, but Steve had come to learn that his anger only scared you, so instead he had tried to find another way to quiet the waves within his mind. “I have a better idea.”

“Is that so?” 

“I spend the night.” Steve winked at you, he knew that you sensed his brewing anger, and he desperately wanted to reassure you that he wouldn’t ruin this.

You froze, as if you knew even then that this would be a shift within your dynamic with him. You called Steve your best friend at this point, and while he never said so out loud, you were his best friend, too. At school, you didn’t have many friends, but Steve had now become surrounded by both boys and girls, all vying for his attention, and though he still never introduced you to them, you knew even then that you were the most important person in his life. 

As your eyes met Steve’s in the mirror once more, for a moment you could see the eleven year old boy again, and he’s the reason you say yes.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you reminded Steve for the tenth time that night as you looked over at your door to make sure it was locked. Your mom would’ve killed you if she had ever found out Steve never left. 

“I know.” Steve crawled into bed next to you and collapsed with a huff. He wrapped his arms around you and you were weak against him.

You’ve always been weak against him.

– 

You’re not sure when you first lost Steve to Nancy Wheeler.

They met when you were all in middle school, and yet somehow she hadn’t caught his eye until you were juniors and she was a sophomore. 

He had dated other girls before, but none had been like Nancy; she was the only one who truly caught his eye. 

You watched as he became infatuated with her. It happened slowly, and then all at once. He stopped walking you to class, stopped sitting a few seats behind you, stopped asking to spend the night. 

Steve still saw the wonder in your eyes, though. He still saw the fondness that burned his skin and ground into his bones. He saw your eyes in Nancy’s, and it infuriated him. He loved the girl, he knew he did, but somehow you were always there.

Even after you stopped asking to see him, to sit in his car and drive, to be his best friend again. 

Somehow, you were always there. You were always there, long after you stopped calling yourself Steve Harrington’s best friend and he stopped feeling the need to miss you. 

Then, one night, when Steve had been on his way to pick Nancy up to go see a movie, he drove past you sitting on a park bench with someone’s arms thrown over your shoulders. He remembers feeling the wind being knocked out of him at the sight, he remembers the possessiveness that clawed so deeply into his chest that he had been afraid for a moment that he was dying. 

He doesn’t remember changing lanes and parking there in front of you.

He doesn’t remember the way your face fell when you saw him.

He doesn’t remember the way the guy who had been wrapped around you stood up, asked who Steve was and why he was bothering you.

All Steve remembers is that he no longer saw the fondness in your eyes when you looked at him. The wonder had been gone. 

“Y/N?” His voice hadn’t sounded like his own. Your name hadn’t left his lips in months; it felt like exhaling after breaking an oath. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you had shaken your head at him, somehow knowing Steve’s feelings before he did. He would come to learn that you had always known his feelings for you, long before he was ever able to figure them out himself. You looked at the guy next to you, your date for the night, and shook your head again. “Not here. Not right now.”

“I know.” But Steve hadn’t known anything. If someone had asked, then, what his name was, all he would’ve been able to answer with was yours. He was yours. “I… I know.”

“I think you should leave, buddy.” The guy you’d been with said, and Steve remembers now that his name had been Jamie. He had been on the soccer team, someone he had once shared a drink with at some stupid party last year. 

Steve cleared his throat and avoided your eyes. You knew too much. You knew too much and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to you until then. “Have a good night.”

And then he was gone. 

Steve broke up with Nancy a week later. 

You never saw Jamie after that night. 

– 

Neither of you know how it started. 

But you know how it will end.

Steve doesn’t, but you don’t blame him. 

He sneaks in through your window most nights and takes from you what you’ve always been willing to give him; it’s how your relationship has always been, and yet you’d give him everything and more if he asked you to. 

Steve kisses you and holds you at arm’s length and tugs you back in every time. 

You always allow yourself to be pulled in. 

One night Steve crawls through your window and reeks of alcohol. He trips over himself as he enters, his hair a mess, still grown the length you once suggested to him, and his jean jacket hangs loosely from his thin frame.

“Steve?” You rush towards him and help him through your window, holding your breath as you do so.

He leans heavily against you and slurs his words. “‘M here.”

“You’re here.” You confirm for him, setting him gently against your bed. As he stares at your ceiling with blurred eyes from the alcohol, you start removing his jacket and shoes. He’s not going home tonight in this state, you know his dad will only send him back here again anyways. 

“Always here,” he slurs again, rolling his head to the side as he does his best to look at you. He squints, studying your side profile and it takes everything within you to not face him. You busy yourself with his clothes, giving yourself something to distract yourself with. He frowns, even in his drunken state he can read you so well. “Always… here.”

“You are always here,” you untie his shoes and place them against your wall. “It’s late, Steve. Let’s go to bed, okay?”

“No,” he now tries to fight against you. Words float through his mind, in a haze of letters and sentence fragments, and vaguely there’s something there that he knows he has to say. Some grand epiphany in between his sixth and seventh beer tonight. “I wanna–I wanna talk.”

You freeze. 

He sees your discomfort and feels something break within him. He tries desperately to grasp at the words within his mind. “Here. It’s… You’re here.”

“I live here, Steve.” You’re not sure what he’s trying to tell you, but you know that if he keeps talking, he’ll ruin the last remaining line that tethers you to him. “Please, just close your eyes and sleep–”

“You’re always here.” His voice has strength to it now, as if the confession has sobered him up. His eyes are now focused, though his mind is still a haze of everything he hasn’t told you. His movements are still slow, his breath still reeks, and he knows that this isn’t what you deserve. “W-why?”

You close your eyes. 

You’ve always known how this would end. 

“We can talk in the morning.” You try to appease him, now gently crawling over him so that you can lay his drunken state to rest. “How about you just hold me tonight, okay?”

Steve is gone again, now lost in the alcohol he’s consumed once more, and your offer of him being able to hold you is all he can focus on now. Exhaustion washes over him and he wraps his arms around you, distantly he thinks he remembers someone else doing this to you once. The thought makes him hold onto you tighter, though he thinks that this isn’t fair to you. 

Lips close to your ear, he whispers, “We shouldn’t be doin’ this.”

“I know,” you close your eyes again, scared he’ll see the tears within them. 

Neither of you know how it started.

The undoing of whatever you had started long before either one of you truly knew what it was.

One day you were both eleven and Steve had been drawn towards the naivety within you that he never had himself.

Tonight, you’re both seventeen and the naivety is gone, and as the alcohol burns through Steve’s system, he knows it’s because of him. 

You’ve always known how this would end.

Steve has only realized it tonight.

-

⌑ writing masterlist

[lokidokieokie]

His Protector

Summary: Odin had always been a shitty father to Loki; always blaming him for the slightest mishap, constantly comparing him to Thor. It was a relentless relationship (if it could actually be called that). One day when Odin goes too far, you’re there to stand up for Loki and protect him from his so-called father. 

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Goddess!Reader

Warning(s): mentions of parental abuse, torture(?), Odin being a shitty father, language, wounds, reader being a bad bitch (think I got everything...as usual, lemme know if I didn’t) 

Every night was pretty much the same. You woke up, donned your Asgardian garbs and began your journey throughout the palace. 

You had always had a connection to the night; ever since you were a small babe. The way that the moon illuminated the sky had always brought a sense of peace over the normally bustling villages of Asgard--a feeling that few were ever lucky to experience. 

Those few being you and the God of Mischief himself. 

You and the younger Prince had been friends since the cradle, and have been pretty much inseparable ever since. However, at some point, your relationship--at least on your side--had moved from one of mere friendship to love. 

You have no recollection of when your feelings changed; it had just suddenly shifted. In hindsight, though, this realisation shouldn’t have surprised you; it was probably decreed by the Norns themselves. 

They would do that to you--bestow the gift of unrequited love upon you. They had never been in your favour; the fates were never on your side. But if you were bound to love someone endlessly; at least it was your best friend. You could pretend that everything was fine...right?

You would have to put up your façade for tonight at least. Tonight, Loki was meant to meet you in the Gardens. You both were planning to have a discussion on Midgardian playwrights, and figure out which Bard truly was the greatest. 

But as you finally entered through the arch of wildflowers and vines, he wasn’t there. You sighed, maybe he had finally succumbed to the sleep that his body required.

Knowing that you would get bored sitting in the Gardens alone, you decided that it would be best to check up on him--purely to ensure that he was alright; not by any means to hear his soft snores as he peacefully slept. 

Walking through the palace during the middle of the night was always a sight to behold. The way that the speckles of lights in the night sky reflected off of the shiny, golden walls made you feel as if you were walking straight through a fantasy novel. 

However, what you saw beyond that beautiful picture was truly terrifying. 

The throne room that usually held Odin, sitting on his throne, addressing the people of Asgard now echoed the anguished cries of the mischievous prince. Tears welled in your eyes as you came to the realisation that the Allfather was beating Loki. 

A sense of anger washed over your being, and you began storming towards the doors. As you pushed the doors open, your steps ceased. Kneeling on the floor was your best friend, covered in his own blood. 

“What in the Norns is going on here?” 

Both sets of heads turned to face you, a flash of gratitude and fear appeared in Loki’s eyes. 

Odin cleared his throat, “Lady Y/n, your presence isn’t needed here.” 

You were about to speak up when he conjured a vile of liquid and proceeded to pour it straight into Loki’s new wounds; causing Loki to scream out in pain. 

“Are you kidding me? My presence isn’t needed? You are blatantly torturing your own son in the middle of the palace!” 

How could a parent do this to their own son? 

“This does not concern you, Lady. Leave. It is an order from your King.” Odin demanded. 

In an attempt to get you to leave, the Allfather once again poured the vile into Loki’s wounds; his hoarse voice once again screaming out in agony. 

That was the final straw. You were not going to stand here and watch the love of your life get tortured by his own father. You felt your eyes change from their friendly e/c to a colour as dark as a stormy night. 

“You will not do that again. Ever.” Your voice was dead calm; causing the hairs on both the Royal’s necks to stand on end.

The King’s eyes glared at you, “You dare speak to your King that way? I could have you executed for disobeying my direct order!”

You cackled, “I’d like to see you try, your majesty. Not even you can stop the Goddess of the Night when she’s angered.” Every single word was dripping with venom. 

Odin growled, “Do not test me, night child. I’ll have you executed by dawn.” 

He made his way towards you, finally leaving your poor Loki alone. You stood your ground. You refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing that his words had any sort of effect on you. 

The only thing that truly matter was the poor soul--the love of your life--writhing on the floor of the throne room.

“You don’t want me to test you, King Odin. I think we’re way past that.” You growled as you slowly began to bring your seiðr to the surface. Black wisps of magic began to form in your palms, slowly circling the centre of your hand. 

“I think, Allfather, that it is you who shouldn’t test me...or have you forgotten what I am also the Goddess of?” 

The Allfather gulped. For a moment, he had forgotten what other title he had bestowed upon you. The Goddess of Pain flashed through his mind. You could inflict pain onto whomever you desired; you truly were not to be messed with. 

“I’m glad that I finally have your attention, Odin.” You spat. “Maybe now you’ll come to your senses and stop inflicting pain onto someone who never deserves it.”

You began making your way towards Loki, as he now desperately needed the attention of some of the palace’s healers. 

Odin coughed, drawing your attention to him. “That is where you are wrong, child. Loki is in the wrong this time.” 

You glared at him. “By all means Odin, please, enlighten me on what Loki has “done” this time!” He shifted his weight, clearly nervous. If you weren’t so angry, you might’ve been proud of yourself. 

“I have had several witness confirm that Loki was the one behind the destruction of the East Wing two nights ago.”

You seethed, “Did those witnesses happen to be Thor and the Warrior’s Three?” 

He nodded, seemingly proud of his facts. That face instantly dropped when he saw the anger in your eyes.

“It’s always about what Thor said, isn’t it Odin? Have you ever thought about what Loki has to say about this issue?” You left no room for him to answer.

“No, you haven’t; because you’re too far up your own royal ass that you don’t ever think to ask for Loki’s opinion! And, for your information you royal pain in the ass, Loki was with me two nights ago--just as he always is--because he cannot fathom the nightmares that plague his mind from his time under Thanos!”

You took a breath, you needed to keep your composure. The Allfather did not get to see you cry. 

“He tortured your son, you know. Forced him to try and take over Midgard in order to obtain infinity stones. And all that happened because he fell of the Rainbow Bridge because you are a terrible father!” 

You drew your attention away from Odin after hearing Loki whimper. Tears began to build in your eyes, threatening to escape. 

You pressed a sad kiss to his forehead and whispered, “I’m so sorry, my love. I’ll take you to the healers now.”

You once again turned to face Odin, who now had a look of terror on his face.  “I- I had no idea.” He said, seemingly ashamed of his actions. 

“Of course you didn’t know. All you care about is the Allmother or Thor. You never care about Loki.” You shifted your eyes back to Loki and moved a piece of hair out of Loki’s face. 

“And to plague your dreams, it was Thor and his horrible friends who destroyed the East Wing in one of their drunken stupors. Maybe next time you believe your Golden Child, you’ll ask if your son had any unbiased witnesses to back up his claim.”

Then you teleported both Loki and yourself to the healing wing, quickly calling for healers to tend to your love.

Your slumber was disturbed by something shifting underneath your head. Quickly remembering the events of last night, you bolted upwards, and the emerald eyes of the love of your life greeted you.

Your eyes brimmed with tears and you grabbed his hand, “I’m so glad you’re okay.” 

He smiled, “I am, thanks you to, Y/n. Thank you for standing up for me.” 

As his thumb wiped away the tears of your face, you took your chance.

“I would do anything for you Loki. I love you.” After the events of last night, you didn’t care if the feelings weren’t reciprocated, you just needed him to know how much he meant to you. 

The pair of cold lips attaching themselves to yours surprised you; but it felt as if you had done this a thousand times before. 

Loki placed his forehead against yours, “I love you too, Y/n. More than you’ll ever know.”

He then took your lips again. 

###BONUS###

As the two lovers basked in the beginning of something new, the entire palace was able to hear the yells of anguish and anger between the Crown Prince and the Allfather.

But the lovers heard nothing, too absorbed in each other’s embrace to care. They finally were together, and only fate could now tear them apart. 

This has been in the WIPs forever...glad it’s finally done :)

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@thewaithfuckingannoyme

[atlabeth]

everything happens for a reason part 3 - zuko x fem!reader

I feel so much, I get carried away

part 2 | masterlist | part 4

a/n: enjoy the fluff in this chapter bc its not gonna last

once again for reference - this chapter takes place 2 years after the last one so y/n is 11 and zuko is 12

warning(s): eating/food, but otherwise its pure fluff

wc: 3.3k

chapter title comes from carried away by madison beer!

i ran out of kid zuko gifs so i had to make my own smh if you want something done you gotta do it yourself

The young friendship only flourished after that fateful day. Zuko and Y/N began spending almost all of their freetime together between Y/N teaching him about her culture, their usual talking in the hallways, and finding ways to hang out together outside of her schedule. She was absolutely delighted to be teaching Zuko though, so she always made sure there was time for her self proclaimed academy.

Y/N was constantly busy around the castle, so in order to hang out they had started waking up extra early — the pair had become experts at sneaking around the castle with the first rays of the sun. The gardens were a favourite because of its availability, and of course, the turtleducks. It also gave Y/N a chance to bend outside of healing, something that they began to take advantage of as they got older.

Sparring sessions became a regular between them as a way for Y/N to get some practice with martial bending, Zuko to experience fighting against a waterbender, and just another way for them to spend time together. Of course, they had to keep it as quiet as possible to avoid alerting anyone of their presence, but that became the least of their worries over time.

They each pushed each other to be better, and with Y/N’s healing skills, they were able to walk away every morning without any injuries. But after discovering a very unfair advantage that the prince held, she decided that morning sparring just wasn’t enough.

(“Firebending gets stronger in the morning,” he had told her after a particularly brutal blast resulting in some emergency bending on Y/N’s part to extinguish a tree. “My teachers always say that we rise with the sun.”

“Well,” she had said with a smile. “We rise with the moon. You just signed yourself up for some late night sparring sessions.”)

Y/N had truly started to come into her own. It had been two years since her capture, and though she had in no way made peace with her life in the Fire Nation, she was trying to take advantage of it as much as she could. Even though she despised being at the beck and call of nobles and guards, she couldn’t deny the opportunities it gave her to hone her abilities. Her healing had improved tenfold and her martial bending wasn’t too shabby either. Between all of the time spent with Zuko and practicing her bending, she was able to distract herself from her dim reality.

But the world was a cruel, cruel place, no matter how much she tried to ignore it. It didn’t treat souls like Zuko and Y/N kindly, a fact that they would soon become aware of.

In the moment though, Y/N was more focused on not getting burnt.

She twirled to the side as a small flame shot past her, just barely managing to dodge it as she bent a stream of water out from the pond and sent it at Zuko. He turned it to steam as he blocked it with his own fire, which he then sent back at her with a combination of a punch and a kick. Y/N raised her hands and bent up a large wall of water from the pond, and with a small grunt on her part, sent it flying towards Zuko. He tried to conjure up his own fire shield in an effort to extinguish the water once more, but it was too little too late and he ended up getting knocked to the ground and completely drenched.

Y/N couldn’t stop the giggle that fell from her lips as Zuko wiped water off of his face, sputtering incoherently while he pushed himself up. “Did you really have to do that?” he complained.

“You know I do.” She grinned as she walked around the pond to his side, cracking her knuckles before she began to bend the water out of his clothes. “This was in the morning, too. Admit it, I’m getting better!”

He cracked a smile of his own. “You really are. I just wish that you getting better didn’t end up in me getting soaked every time.”

She bent the water she had extracted from his clothes back into the pond and held out her hand to help him up from the ground, which he took gratefully. “That just makes it more fun.”

As she helped pull him up, Y/N found herself more than a little transfixed. The rays of the rising sun shone down on him perfectly, and the smile still on his lips made her feel flutter bats in her stomach.

Y/N didn’t know when she had started seeing Zuko in a different light than usual. When his laughs became melodious, his smile like a ray of sunshine on its own, his company coveted. While she was usually able to trade verbal jabs with him without a second thought, doing her self-assigned job of keeping him humble, something had changed in the past year.

They grew steadily closer over the years after they had met, but one event in particular all but pushed Zuko into her arms.

Ursa’s banishment.

Of course, they didn’t know that she had been banished. No one aside from Ozai knew the true nature of her disappearance — to her children and the other inhabitants of the palace, it was just that. A disappearance.

It was suspicious, yes. All in the span of a day, Princess Ursa vanished, Fire Lord Azulon mysteriously perished, and Ozai took his place, but nothing could be done. It was a somber day for every servant — Ursa showed them a kindness that couldn’t be found anywhere else in the palace, and to rub salt in the wound, a man just as cruel as Azulon had risen to the throne.

Zuko was devastated. He had always been close with his mother, and the only thing she had given him before leaving was a short goodbye and a kiss. He was angry beyond belief at the abandonment, and that anger overshadowed his grief.

Y/N tried to help him, but he lashed out at her.

“Your mother is still here and she loves you! Mine left me like I was nothing. Don’t try and say you know how I feel.”

“But my father is gone. I do know how you feel Zuko, and I want to help you, but I can’t help you if you keep pushing me away.”

“…you don’t know anything.”

It hurt, but she knew he needed space. She gave it to him, letting him brew alone and take out his anger however necessary, but let him know that the door was open when he was ready to talk.

He did — he had apologized for what he said and she accepted, and Zuko ended up spilling every emotion he had to her over the next few weeks. She listened, offered advice when she could, and made Zuko feel a little bit less alone in the scheme of it all. It was a horrible experience, but it brought them closer together, and the prince was eternally thankful that he had a friend to help him through the ordeal.

The night that he came to her room, admitting that he was hurting and asking for her help — Y/N thinks that was the moment she fell for him. She cursed herself at the time for developing feelings for her only friend in the palace, but over time she learned to cover them up. She had to remember her place.

She understood her role, but it got harder and harder to keep up with it the more time she spent with Zuko — this moment was no exception.

“Yeah, yeah. I just hold back because I don’t want to burn you.”

“Liar!” she exclaimed, hitting him playfully on the shoulder. “You forget that I can heal myself if anything goes wrong. Besides, I know you’d never burn me. I trust you.”

Zuko smiled and smoothed his clothes back down, the only sign of their sparring session now gone. “Good, because I trust you too. No matter how many times you totally drench me.”

She snorted as she started to walk back to the palace. “Like I said, that just makes it more fun. And as fun as it has been completely crushing you in combat, duty calls.”

He sighed, giving a reluctant nod as he started to follow her — then his eyes lit up, and he grabbed her arm to stop them. “Wait, how much work do you have today?”

Y/N thought for a few seconds then shrugged. “Dunno, it varies. I got stuck working with Jaysa all this morning, so that’s going to take forever, I have my usual healing lessons with Master Rika after, and then I usually just end up going around with whatever else comes my way for the rest of the day.” She grinned and lowered her voice as if the subject of the matter could somehow hear her. “I’ve been working on a dress for my mother in secret because her birthday is coming up soon, so the free time I get between my shifts that isn’t spent with you has been going towards that.”

Zuko gaped. “You’re making her a dress all on your own, with no help? How?”

She held up her hands with a proud smile. “These things are good for waterbending, sewing, and hitting best friends.”

He gave her a sideways grin at that. “I’m your best friend?”

Y/N snickered and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, dummy. You’re like, the only person that likes me in this whole nation. Of course you’re my best friend.”

“Well…” he started. “Would a best friend like to break the rules even more tonight?”

Her eyes lit up in turn, completely betraying her excitement despite her attempt to look nonchalant about it. “That depends — what d’you have in mind?”

He grinned and leaned forward, dropping his voice to a whisper as he spoke in her ear. “So, after you finish work for the night, we…”

-

It was a struggle to get through all of her work after the plan that she and Zuko had formulated — sure, they broke the rules all the time. The basis of their entire friendship was breaking the rules, but this was going farther than they ever had before. Y/N wasn’t thinking about the consequences though, she was thinking about the journey — that was her first mistake.

She had rushed through all of her chores with Jaysa, hardly paid attention in her healing lessons, and made quick work of the rest of her day until she was finally able to meet up with Zuko at one of the various servant entrances that she had shown him.

“You’re finally here!” he exclaimed, his body buzzing with nervous energy. “I thought you were never gonna come.”

“Some of us actually have work to get done, mister crown prince,” she joked as she bumped his shoulder with hers. “But that doesn’t matter — let’s get going before someone catches us! I don’t want it to get too dark either.”

“It’s gonna be fine,” Zuko reassured. “My dad is in war meetings all day, no one is going to catch us. Now come on!”

Zuko pushed open the door, grabbed her hand, and began to pull her along. A laugh fell from her lips as they ran, unable to stop herself from casting a cautionary glance behind them as they got farther from the palace. Y/N tried to push her worries out of her mind — like she had told Zuko earlier, she trusted him.

That was her second mistake.

It was surprisingly easy to sneak past the guards around the wall and just as quick to get through Royal Caldera, and before Y/N knew it, they had arrived in the city.

It was nothing like she had ever seen before.

The village she had grown up in was miniscule compared to anything in the Fire Nation, and she was especially awestruck upon entering the city. As home to more middle class citizens than anything, it was a bustling marketplace filled with workers and nobles alike — if she hadn’t been preoccupied with the stars in her eyes, she would’ve been able to see the way Zuko was absolutely beaming at her.

“Come on!” he exclaimed, grabbing her hand once again as he began to walk — at a much more moderate pace than their run here — down the streets. “There’s so much here that I wanna show you. Have you ever been out here?”

She shook her head, allowing herself to gawk at her surroundings while they went down the street. “We aren’t really allowed to leave the palace since we’re technically still prisoners, just… ones that work. My mother always had to give her money to one of the other servants so that when they went out to buy their things, they could pick some stuff up for us as well. This is all totally new.”

Once again, a frown found its way onto Zuko’s face, but only for a split second before he pointed at a stall opposite to them. “Oh— there’s a fruit stand! Come on, you have to try this.”

Y/N let Zuko pull her over to the stand, looking at the array of fruits on display while Zuko conversed with the merchant. A few silver pieces later and they were walking away with a basket of produce — miraculously, the prince hadn’t been recognized, so she figured he wouldn’t need a disguise. Third mistake.

“Here,” he said, offering her a mango from the basket. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried Fire Nation mango.”

She took the fruit from him and bit into it, her eyes immediately widening as she turned on Zuko. “Tui’s gills, this is delicious! You’re telling me that you people just have this on hand but we don’t get any of it?”

He shrugged and took a fig from the basket as Y/N wiped some juice off of her chin. “There’s a reason I’ve helped you break into the kitchens so many times. Now, where do you wanna go next?”

-

The pair spent the next couple of hours browsing the marketplace, enjoying their day on the Fire Lord’s coin. Zuko was more than happy to show Y/N parts of his culture after all she had taught him, and she was more than happy to experience it. They had been able to buy lanterns for the upcoming Festival of Szeto, purchase their own blends of tea leaves, and of course Zuko insisted on getting fire flakes and gummies.

(Y/N thought he was insane. Why in the world would the Fire Nation want to make food that hurt them on purpose? She was going to stick with her newfound love for mangoes.)

But Zuko hadn’t even brought her to the best part yet.

“Can I open my eyes now?” She asked, her anxious tone betraying her curiosity.

“Now you can.” Y/N was met with Zuko’s grin and as she focused on the stand in front of them, she had to make a conscious effort to not gape.

Zuko had brought her to a sewing stand with all the threads, fabrics, and silks that she could dream of in all kinds of colors. She immediately rushed forward, unable to stop herself from running her hands over and through each and every piece of material — she was in a seamstress’s heaven.

“I take that as a sign you like it?” Zuko asked happily.

“Oh, definitely,” she confirmed, still completely caught up in all the choices. “This is so much better than all the material we’re given to work with!”

“That’s why I brought you here. I thought you could get some stuff for yourself, and some stuff to help with the dress you’re making for your mom. I don’t really know how sewing works, but I thought that this was one way I could help.”

“That is so sweet of you!” she gushed. “Thank you so much — you should probably get around to some of the other stalls because I… I think I’m gonna be here for a while.”

Zuko laughed and fished out of a couple of golden pieces then set them in her hand. “That’s okay. I’ll meet you over by the steps; we can watch the sunset together.”

They nodded as parting gifts and each was enveloped in their tasks; Y/N beginning to ask the merchant questions about everything at their stand and Zuko off to entertain himself for a few more minutes.

Soon enough, Y/N had her own small bundle of silks and fabrics, her mind already going off in a million different ways of how she could incorporate it into the design. She found Zuko sitting on the steps and as she took her own seat next to him, he handed her another mango.

“Did you find everything you wanted?” She nodded and hummed gratefully as she accepted the fruit, taking a bite as her eyes fell on the skyline in front of them.

“I had a really great time today, Zuko. I really can’t thank you enough for taking me out here. I… I think I forgot what it was like to feel like this.”

“Like what?”

“...happy.” She paused for a second before allowing herself to meet his eyes. “All the time I spend with you in the palace… It’s one of the only times that I really do feel happy. And being out here today, getting to walk around where I wanted and buy things and just— I feel free, Zuko. And that means everything to me.”

She felt the heat rush to her cheeks and she turned away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go on like that—“

Zuko gently reached out for her hand, drawing her attention back to him and the soft smile on his face.

“Well… I care about you. You’re nice to me, and you take time out of your day to help me which you don’t have to do. This is just me trying to pay you back for all you’ve done to help me. We can do this more often — whenever my dad’s busy.”

Her own smile grew on her lips and she nodded as she laced her fingers with his. “I care about you too. And.. I’d like that.”

Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder and together, they watched the sunset over the city.

There was no place either of them would rather be.

-

Y/N and Zuko made their way back to the palace as quickly as they could after realizing how late it had gotten. Y/N was sure that she was going to get the talking-to of her life after what she had done, but she was almost giddy after what had just happened. She could deal with any of Kura’s consequences later — right now the only thought in her mind was the feeling of Zuko’s hand in hers.

The night had been nothing short of perfect. She had felt freer than ever before out there in the city with Zuko, and knowing that he reciprocated the feelings she had for him was enough to make her heart burst. She cared for him, and he cared for her.

Of course, there was that nagging question of how they would continue now that their friendship had morphed into something more, but once again — it was something she would deal with later. Her fourth and final mistake.

But as a guard turned the corner, Y/N realized she might not get the chance. She quickly let go of Zuko’s hand and tucked it under the bundle of fabric, hoping that the gesture of affection had been missed by the man.

If he had noticed, he showed no sign of it. He stopped in front of them, a gruff voice speaking from behind the mask with words that made her heart stop.

“Prince Zuko, the Fire Lord has requested an audience with you.”

-

haha OOPS

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

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atla: @marianne1806

[melancholymetropolis]

Skin

Summary:  Business Man Todoroki has been unconsciously neglecting his wife, due to his enormous workload. So, she decides to surprise him at home office.

A/N: Thank you guys for all the love you shared on my first piece! I didn't expect so many people to be so into it! If you want to commission me for a story, click here!

Warnings: This is pure filth with a dash of fluff at the end. Maybe, angst, if you squint. Reader is, also, plus sized! Shoto is a cocky little bastard, but a total simp for his wife. 

Pairings: AgedUp!Todoroki Shoto x Black!Reader

As I grabbed my bonnet off the nightstand, my eyes caught a glimpse of the clock. 12:34 AM. I sighed and looked at the neatly made bed. My husband was supposed to be on the other side, pulling back the sheet and climbing in along with me. But, like most days, he was still in his study, waist-deep in work. Frustrated, I walked to the closet and took a long look at the present I had picked up earlier that day. I was supposed to wear it the following day since he had claimed I would have his undivided attention this weekend. However, my patience had been wearing thin and I was seconds away from throwing myself at him in my birthday suit. Knowing Todoroki, he would’ve found it by the morning anyway and ruined the surprise. 

Before I could change my mind, I stripped out of my oversize cotton shirt and underwear. I threw the items in the hamper and unhooked the lingerie from the hanger. I slipped my legs into the lace cheekies and snapped the garter belt around my waist. After I shimmied into the strapless bustier, I rolled the thigh high stockings onto my legs and clipped the garter belt onto them. I tossed the bonnet on the bed and untied my boxed braids from its messy bun. I slipped my feet in the marabou lined heeled slippers and shrugged on the matching black, silk robe. I rolled on my homemade Love Potion scented oil and fluffed my eyelashes with mascara. I added a little bit of sparkling lip gloss and headed out of the room.

On the way to the study, I had tried to convince myself that what I had done was incredibly stupid and childish. But, I simply debunked that statement with “YOLO” and continued on my journey. The door to the study had been partly ajar. Through the crack, I could see Todoroki typing away on the laptop as if there had been no tomorrow. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open a little more. I knocked twice on the frame and waited for him to look up. He didn’t.

“I promise I am almost done, I just need to type this last statement and I will join you in bed,” his eyes were glued to the computer. “Just five more minutes.”

I looked down at my rose embroidered bustier and back at him. 

Should I just wait until he finished? He did say it wouldn’t be that long.

“Okay, darling?” he quickly shot a look over to me, before resuming his work on the computer. Suddenly, Todoroki stopped typing and stared at me. His mismatch eyes washed over me ever so slowly, taking in every detail. He took his sweet time to meet my eyes again and a smirk fell on his lips. “Lock the door.” 

I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me. I turned the lock to the left and looked back at him. The laptop had disappeared, along with the papers from on top of the desk. Todoroki loosened his tie and pulled it from his neck. He pushed his body away from the desk and leaned back in his swivel chair. 

“Come here,” his voice dropped an octave as his eyes darkened. 

I squared my shoulders and lifted my head. I stared directly at him as I took small steps toward the desk. I brushed my hands along the outside ridge before I walked in between his legs. I scooted my rear on the empty space on the desk. 

The Japanese man closed the distance between us and looked up at me. His fingers glided down the base of my thigh before wrapping around my heeled foot. Todoroki slipped the shoe from my foot and dropped it on the floor. He repeated the action with my other foot. His long fingers kneaded the stocking covered skin on my thigh. 

“I don't know if I should be pleased by this action or angered by it," his smooth voice dressed my ears. 

Todoroki had a way to speak with such authority and pose that it infuriated me. When he wanted to, he could switch on an Alpha persona and command my undivided attention. His voice would get deeper, huskier, and, when he spoke, it sounded as though it vibrated in my earlobes. The feather-like touches on my skin shot electricity through my skin as his gentle humming gave me goosebumps. Todoroki was well aware of how sexually attracted I was of him and would use these tactics against me. Sometimes even in public. The amount of underwear I ruined because of this was laughable. But he didn’t care since it meant that he would see me in new lingerie every so often. 

“Why would you be angered by this, baby?” I asked shyly.

Todoroki opened my thighs just a tab bit wider and scooted his chair closer. “Because I know—” he undid the knot on the belt of the rob. “I am gonna have to explain—” the silk slipped from my shoulders and fell on the desk. “Why my report is missing—,” Todoroki sat my heels on the arms of his chair and pulled my pelvis to the edge of the desk. “In the morning,” his hand kneaded the soft skin between my thighs. His fingers inched closer to my lace-covered womanhood and his eyes flickered to mine. The Japanese man placed his thumb on the moist area and drew small circles upon it. I took my bottom lip in between my teeth and nibbled on it. The skilled muscle slid to the top of my vulva and found the throbbing, sensitive bud. Todoroki drew bigger circles on that spot and my mouth fell open graciously. 

With a smirk on his lips, he mimicked my facial expression. “There we go. That’s the face I want,” he said as he leaned closer. “You like that, princess?”

“Mhm!” I hummed with a nod. I leaned backward on my hands and let my head fall back. 

Pushing my legs further apart, Todoroki rose from his seat. His lips left hot kisses from my navel and up my bustier. His tongue slid up my cleavage to my collarbones. My husband sucked the skin on the crook of my neck tenderly, before nibbling the skin on my neck. The bites increased until he reached my jaw. With one hand still on the sensitive bud, he found my lips. Leaning on my left hand, I laced my fingers in his hair and gave it a slight tug. I opened my mouth, greedily taking his tongue in my mouth. Todoroki flicked his thumb faster. My moans increased to desperate pants. I pulled my lips away and rested my forehead against his. I looked in his eyes as I whimpered under his touch. My legs began to shake slightly as my walls clenched against themselves. The seat of the cheekies was drenched in my arousal and clung to my vulva. My husband moved the digit faster and tingles ran through my body. My toes curled tightly as my pants became louder. I squeezed the root of his hair tighter; I never broke eye contact with him. 

Todoroki smirked deviously and removed his finger from the bud. 

“Why did you stop?” I whined with a frown.

He chuckled and unbuttoned his shirt. “Because if I don’t bury myself in that sweet cunt soon, I’m afraid I'll burst,” Todoroki said as he unbuckled his belt. 

“Well, we wouldn’t want that,” I replied with a tired giggle. 

Todoroki pulled his trousers and boxers down in one go. His member sprang free and bobbed a little. My walls clenched in anticipation. He stepped out of the pants and kicked them to the side. My husband looked down at my clothed core with the same anticipation I had. He unclipped the garter belt from my thigh highs and gripped the edge of underwear. He gently pulled the fabric from my hips and down my legs. Todoroki tossed the panties to the side and placed my legs back in their original position. He rubbed the tip of his member from my bud to my core before sinking himself into me. I inhaled sharply and exhaled with a low moan. The familiar sensation of him stretching my walls was always such a turn on. 

His mouth fell open and a groan poured from his mouth. “Fuck...”

I slowly rocked myself against his hips, hinting that I was ready for him. 

Todoroki started off with deep, long strokes. Savoring every moment of the transaction. Quiet moans left my mouth. The stimulation from earlier still stirring the depths of my being. The pleasure in my body had been reaching its limit and I knew my husband was nowhere near done. 

Bored with that position, Todoroki leaned back just a bit to lift my legs from the desk and rest them on his biceps. He gripped the edge of the surface I was on and began ramming himself into me. The breath in my lungs had gotten stuck in my throat and I forgot to breathe.

“Oh. . .  shit . . .” My mouth formed a large ‘o’ shape and my eyes rolled to the back of my head. 

“There’s the face I want,” he said cockily. 

I leaned back on my hands and threw my head back. “ So. . . good. . .” I grunted as I bucked my hips to meet his.

“Look at my naughty, naughty wife,” Todoroki mused lowly. “Desperately. . . ready to become undone.”

“Ugh~~~,” tingles began to flood my body. Stars flashed behind my eyelids as my legs began to shake again yet again.

Todoroki lifted my legs higher until they reached his shoulders. He continued his steady, but deep pace. His long, ebony locks began to cling to his forehead. Eyes drilling holes into my body. Todoroki slid his hands along the desk and gripped the edge near my shoulders. His member pushed deeper into my, brushing my cervix tenderly. My back slowly fell against the desk, and, to avoid an injury, Todoroki supported my neck with his hand. With hooded eyes, I looked up at him.

“I love you . . . so much,” I whispered as my toes curled tightly.

“I know,” he said with a wide smile. “I love you, too.”

The tingling stopped and a chill ran through my body. My back arched into his abdomen as my eyes rolled back. My mouth stretched open and hips pulsed against his. My nails dug into the wood of the desk. An elongated groan left my lips and I saw white. Todoroki continued to stroke in and out of the smooth canal, chasing his own finish. That actually, ultimately, further stimulated the sensitive area and elongated my climax. 

"Oh. . . My. . . GOD!" The whimper increased to high pitched shrieks. 

Todoroki drops one of my legs from his shoulder and hooks it around his waist. He tucked his arm through space my arched back made against the desk. He lifted my back from the surface, digging the bones from the bustier into my back. With my lifted leg in the air, I used my right hand to grip his shoulder as I lean forward, My left hamstring tingled a little at the position, but I pushed through it. 

“Thank God for Yoga,” he said with a smirk.

“Oh shut up— shit!” Todoroki resumed his deadly rhythm in the middle of my sentence. 

“Mhm, that’s what I thought,” he replied between pants.

The potency of that new position had been lethal; each stroke caused his abdomen to briefly brush against my sensitive bud. The overstimulation caused my legs to shake violently, after a short while. A build-up of pressure found its way in my lower belly and gave off a warm sensation. I dug my nails into my husband’s shoulder and threw my head back. Incoherent words left my tongue, as water gushed from my core and onto the silk garment beneath me. Todoroki’ stroke came to an abrupt pause and a silent scream left his lips. With closed eyes, he gripped the edge of the desk tightly and pushed himself in me one more time before oozing into me. He caught his breath and ran a hand through his hair. A shallow laugh left his mouth as he pried his eyes open. Todoroki lowered my leg from his shoulder and rested a hand on my neck. Thumb on my cheek, my husband lowered his mouth to mine and gave me a passionate kiss.

I hooked my arms underneath his and placed my fingers in his hair. With his other hand flat against my lower back, he arched my body into his and deepened the kiss. He moaned against my lips.

I pulled away from the embrace and chuckled, “You never took off the bustier.”

“I didn’t want to break it,” he gave my lips a small peck. “I actually liked this one.”

“Oh. really?” I said with a raised eyebrow. “You didn’t like the pink one?”

“I mean, it was nice,” Todoroki kissed along my jawline. “But, it is something about you in black. It does things to me.” He nipped the sweet spot on my neck and a shiver ran down my spine.

“Noted,” I replied with a groan. 

“But, it really doesn’t matter what you wear,” Todoroki kissed his way up my neck and raised his head to meet my eyes, “You could wear a garbage bag and I’d still rise for you.”

“Garbage bags are black, honey,” I concluded with a cheerful glint in my eyes.

“Oh, you’re right,” Todoroki said with a laugh. After a few seconds, he paused his laughter. “I just remembered. . . I have a surprise for you, too.”

“You know I hate surprises,” I groaned. 

“But, you’re gonna like this one,” Todoroki untangled our limbs and pulled away from me. He reached into a drawer and pulled out two pieces of paper. He handed them to me. 

“Plane tickets to. . . the Netherlands,” I read aloud. 

“A two-week romantic getaway,” he declared with a nod. “I have been promising you quality time for a while now, so I decided to take off of work for a little while.”

“Looks like I gotta buy some more lingerie, huh?” I questioned with a grin.

“A whole lot more,” my husband said before pulling me in for another kiss.

[wroteclassicaly]

Waves of Blue (Andy Dolan x Reader)

Warnings: Language, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, rough sex, hair pulling, face slapping, slight choking, mentions of drug usage, & angst.

A/N : AAAAAAHHHHH! I have found the post that teaches you how to add a read more on mobile! Shoutout to the person who told me about that! You know who you are! ^_^ Anyways, I am so gonna be posting more, even if it’s harder because I have to write the fics on my phone, versus my laptop, lol. I stumbled across the song Waves of Blue by Majid Jordan, and my ass was emotional af (I have included some of the lyrics here in blue!) I obviously don’t own the song/lyrics!

The song was the kick one of my drafts needed for extra inspiration! And so, I bring you the start of this mini fic! It won’t be very many chapters. And I will probably re-visit for a prequel, to write out how the reader and Andy first hooked up. But I wanted to try something different and start my fic with their relationship already ongoing. Hopefully it doesn’t suck, haha.?

I haven’t felt this inspired for a Cody character since Michael Langdon! I adore Andy’s traumatic, cocky, angsty, hot mess ass! And I really wanna explore the creativity he’s bringing me! Lemme know what y’all think? And give the song a listen - I’m in in love with it!

Forgive me if there’s some mistakes, loves! I’m nervous about how I’ve written Andy, and how the smut is. Hope y’all enjoy anyways!

:)

~*~

The rain is a glittering array of shimmering moisture as its presence is pouring down on the roof of your apartment. Your knees are knocked tightly together, jean fabric digging into flesh. Your phone is perched face down atop your legs, vibrating messages you don’t care to read. They’re not the ones that you want to see. You tilt your head back, the tears redirecting themselves down the sides of your cheeks. You turn your gazing direction to that silk robe atop your bed - a reminder.

“It’s just a fling, love.”

But it can’t be, can it?

You have to laugh at yourself. Isn’t this what every girl asks themselves when they’re dumped? Rare is an exception who steals the other person’s heart and changes that exterior they carry. Your phone vibrates again and that raging anger to match the ruby red color on his robe that rests on your bedroom sheets - it charges your energy like a violent strike of lightening! Your hand launches your phone into the hallway outside your bedroom door before you can stop yourself.

“There’s your fucking fling, dumbass Andy Dolan!”

You try to hum to fight off the incoming intrusive thoughts, to ignore your ringing phone in the distance, but it’s to no avail. You’re getting more overwhelmed with the pain by every agonizing second. Your fists clench into the leather armrests below. It’s too much, you can’t bear another second of this shit. It doesn’t matter that it’s raining, it doesn’t matter that you have over fifteen unanswered recent calls from Andy since you threw your phone - unbeknownst to you.

You snatch the stupid silk robe from its place and begin your knowing journey with the excruciatingly expensive item, having already made up your mind. A quick removal of your keys from the hooks beside your front room door and your bare feet seem to lead you - heart first - into the downpour. Your clothing is soaked the instant you step outside. Mumbling all the way to your SUV and clutching Andy’s silk garment becomes your saving grace to help anchor your focus. If one can be focused in bare feet during a thunderstorm, erratically throwing her car into reverse.

The drive to his place of privacy - his sanctuary - the cold place you once used to help him warm. It doesn’t take you long. With your tires grinding against soaking asphalt, country beach roads whipping past you, and your angry windshield wipers struggling to keep up with your car’s pace - Andy’s gates come into your sights. You’re trembling, too upset and geared to go for a turn around now. Andy didn’t change the security, so you let yourself in, abandoning your car just inside, doors open and interior carelessly being soaked.

It doesn’t matter. I just have to tell him this.

That’s your mantra for continuous approach. You round the long expanse of beautiful greenery, waves crashing violently in the distance, a love affair to collide with this storm. Your simple outfit of blue jeans and a baby blue tank top are beyond recognition, weighted down by the sopping wet summer. The shivering begins to thrum along to an invisible, but very present humming inside you. It’s that feeling, the one you know all too well.

Andy Dolan.

Like when you first met, you begin to tremble, letting your limbs move you accordingly. Making sense is last on the priority list. Normally, you would have a thousand conversational scenarios laid out, but that’s not the case. Rushed on purely raw need to tell him - no - inform him, that is what is in charge here. The soft grass is squishy between your toes, a tickle from each freshly mowed blade, water in the distance smelling like salt and flowing freedom.

Every sense is heightened for you right now. Your limbs are heavy, yet your footfalls are light, carrying you with a quick grace. You don’t bother with the front door, opting for his usual back door hang out. It’s a few more minutes before your destination is reached. That’s when you hear him screaming, his voice in high distress, hard and rough against the accent. Your chest heaves to cage hammering heartbeats that you can’t keep up with.

“Motherfucking ANSWER ME!” He shouts, ripping the phone from his ear to redial.

You rolls your eyes, assuming it’s a dealer, or whomever he would rather be with than you. After all, he’s the one who said he just needed an ideal situation, not a relationship.

“Y/N... come on, don’t be a fucking cunt! I need to tell you something, please!”

Almost on cue the song drops loud on his fancy speakers in the house, freezing you to your spot.

I wanna hold you close

Don't wanna let you go

Be with you night and day

'Cause I've been feeling so low

Don't have to ask me twice

You really take me there

I wanna touch your light

I wanna breathe in your air

Andy angrily taps at his phone again, almost growling, reminding you of a wild animal. That’s when you’re snapped into your remaining senses, moving up and onto his deck, standing just feet from him. It takes him a few seconds to look up and see you through the rain. You can’t bring yourself to go any closer, afraid to let go right away. That’s how it is with Andy, you always give in.

You cut him off before he even gets a chance.

“Fuck you, Andy.”

Damn, was that really what you worked up the courage to dangerously drive yourself here to confess?

His lips purse a popping a noise, eyes widening in surprise at your word choices.

“I really fucking hate you.” Is what you give him, finding it easier to take steps now.

He still doesn’t speak as you approach, almost as if he’s recoiling. That wild animal within Andy Dolan. He’s not used to this. You can barely see through the rain, feeling like a moron. The movies make it look so dramatic, but you feel like you’re a wet dog on the verge of catching a cold.

It does good at numbing you though, almost shielding you from those haunting blue eyes. You swipe a hand across your face to clear your vision, and take that final step onto the deck with him, now just on the other side of where he stands in the doorway. That’s when he decides to speak, his voice softer than you’ve heard. It echoes his exhaustion, his surprise.

“You’re not the only one that feels that way, Y/N.”

You shake your head in disbelief, both of you not daring to make that closing gap. You would douse his body with yours; wet and cold. You’d be lying if you denied the shiver that attacked you, drawing your body in like a magnet - helpless to its every move.

“Don’t give me this kicked puppy front. We’re all human beings, Andy. And I didn’t fucking deserve you cutting your baggage open and just... dumping out whatever you felt like on me and then letting me go.”

Fuck.

He inhales sharply, head tilting in this sadness you seem to understand within the moment. It steals your breath, a pain punching your ribcage, causing your heartbeat to skip a few. Your jaw twitches as you turn away to gather your bearings, starting back down into the yard.

Why the fuck did I come here?

I'll be holding you tight

When the night is through

Andy takes a deep inhalation behind you and that catches you, dragging you right back. Before you know which end is up you’re turning back around and striding across the pool deck and right into your former lover. Andy meets you in the harsh rains, his hands cupping your neck so possessively, that you can’t remember a time where this hot mess of a man wasn’t bull dozing your life apart. You grasp his face in your palms, that unshaven stubble prickling your flesh. Your mouth meets his, his phone becoming ruined and forgotten as he lets it fall to the ground beside him.

His strong arms path down to encircle your waist, pulling you in from the weather, bunching your t-shirt up until it’s pooling around your tattered bra. You raise your arms to help him discard it, the heavy wet noise it makes when it collides with a nearby pool chair is enough to make Andy gain his surroundings.

“Stop, stop. Are you fucking high?” He asks you, a cautious pause.

You shake your head. “Aren’t you?”

This is when he scares you with a solemn silence you weren’t aware he could possess.

“Andy...” You push your fingers through his damp curls.

“No, I’m not. I was just about to... when you didn’t answer.”

Almost as if he can’t take revealing that bit of truth, he thumbs a bra strap down your shoulder - deliberately slow. Your skin stings with the line of goosebumps that it brings, your own hands struggling to push that stupid ass identical robe off his broad chest.

“I should fucking rip this.” You say, causing a smile to come from him.

“Rip it and I’ll put you on your knees.”

“Has that ever stopped you before?” A challenging look presses your features, but Andy intercepts, wrapping your hair around his fist and pulling your hair back. You feel the ache crack from the tips of your toes, hot wired into your cunt - direct express.

“You need more marks from me.” His mouth caresses your jawline, stubble catching the underside when his lips find your neck, a stimulation that you have become accustomed to craving.

His teeth bite down, a few seconds more where you feel him cleaning his evidence with a light set of kisses.

“There we go.” He scrapes his milky white teeth across your ear with a whisper so hot that you bow into him; knees weak.

Your bra is the next thing to fall somewhere, your jeans following. Andy doesn’t wait for you to even kick them off, his fingers sliding into your lace panties to see how much you still need him. He licks his lips, eyes closing in pleasure, a familiar stroking rhythm unraveling from the tips of his fingers.

“Shit, that’s a good girl. Even when you hate me you still need me, don’t you?”

The cockiness makes your wrist snap and palm collide with his cheek. You’re riled up, he’s riled up. Something you know he likes. “Like you fucking needed that?” Is your retort.

He groans out, a honey wet dip in his tone. “Only you can fucking touch me like that, Y/N.”

Lightening flashes through the darkened midnight skies, rain pounding across the surface of the pool to create a special beat. Andy finds your mouth in desperation once more, working your underwear down in a frustrated jerk. His fingers part your slick folds and ease into you without any warning. You look down to watch his strong forearm flex in its working marathon, back and forth between your thighs.

We'll be riding the tide in the sky so alive

On waves of blue (waves of blue)

I'm in love with the thought of being in love

In love with you (love with you)

You can bring me along for the rest of your life

If you wanted to (wanted to)

You let go and give into him, not daring to question why you came here in the first place. You know why. Andy has stopped his touches, watching you with that lowered stare he gives. His body is glowing from the neon lighting his home harbors, his creamy skin glistening with rain water. He’s hard through those silk pants, nothing left to the imagination.

“Take them off. Now.” You command him.

He can’t hide the greedy smirk that appears on his lips, not taking his eyes off you as his pants and boxers disappear in one go. He is gloriously hard and thick. You almost want to laugh at your cliche salivating tongue. Andy brushes your wet hair off your temple, his hands moving down your body in a tapping massage - reaching their target to hook behind your thighs.

He lifts you with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist. He’s panting rapidly, nosing your neck. He grips himself, teasingly stroking your cunt to gather your arousal. You stutter on an exhale, unable to breathe out properly. It’s jagged and broken, much like your rationality.

You stop him when he attempts to press inside you. “Tell me again,” You plead. He looks at you in confusion. “Say I’m just a fling.” You finish.

“Y/N...” He struggles.

“Before you fuck me, I want you to tell me what I mean to you, Andy.”

It’s hard not to just fucking forget this and let go, let him take you, both of you get what you want and not have to deal with anything else. But you need to hear it. You want to know how much you’re not worth anything to him. You need to hear it more than you need to find out how much you mean to him. That’s what you came here for...

His enriching ocean eyes are glossy with desire, with something else you can’t place. They pin you into a set of shakes. You grip the hair at his neck’s nape.

“Everything.” He says it all at once, bringing your hand down atop his to help him line up, as he fucks himself into your cunt, stretching you with that delicious drowning burn.

You're no good for me

You got what I need

I just wanna be with you

You cry out, vision sprinkled with an array of floating shapes. Andy drives you against the door, hips slamming so hard you know you’ll be bruised before the night is through. You keep one arm around his neck, lowering the other to encourage him to hurt you deeper, nails clawing at his lower back, shredding the skin. His face stays buried in your neck, stubble adding to each motion he makes inside. You cling tight, using all your strength.

It’s slippery, it’s unstable, you can barely hold onto one another, but you manage. And that moment when you finally can’t keep yourself up, Andy lets you slide down, bringing you into the floor of the doorway, lifting your legs onto his shoulders, pressing in so hard you can’t contain the tears that roll from the corner of your eyes, coasting. He’s familiarized himself with how you come undone, even before you knew.

“You’re drenching my cock, baby. You need to let it go?”

You don’t answer, causing him to grip your throat.

“When I ask you something I expect an answer. You remember how this works, don’t you?”

“Fuck, yes! Please, Andy!” You don’t pride yourself now.

He guides a hand across you, as if he’s tuning a fine instrument. Your stomach quivers with a passing of his fingertips, engaging in a butterfly filled stomach clench. You’re tensing up, anticipating. Desiring.

“Fucking do it! Show me how much you still need this...” He trails off, dropping to rest his chest against your breasts.

“Even if you don’t need me.” It’s a counter thought to your need to hear him say he doesn’t want you.

“I’ll always need you.” You push him onto his back with newfound strength, and pin his hands above his head, your hips bouncing so hard that you can feel his firm structure beneath. That’s right, this is exactly what you have to have.

He’s damn near whining now, squeezing your fingers tightly. “Y/N.”

It’s a warning you don’t need. You lean down to steal a kiss, leaving him further winded, nudging his nose with your own, breasts smashed to between you two. Andy gives a silent agreement, dropping a hand down to quickly rub your clit. Your heartbeat is so out of control that you can’t hear anything but your own cries as you cum all over Andy’s cock. He follows with you, holding himself, keeping you there.

He’s shaking when it’s over. You can’t find coherent speech capabilities.

I'll be holding you tight

I'll wait this through

You stay resting on top of him, still keeping him inside. You don’t know what’s going to happen, but you know that there’s no going back now.

This is just another beginning...

~*~

Tagging: @dark-mei-rose @confettucini @lovelylangdonx

Lemme know if y’all wanna be added to the tag list?!!!!

[remsmoonlight]

— title : brownies n’ breaks

— word count : 2.2 k words

— pairing : daryl dixon x reader

— summary : cooking is your love language and it’s time that you are able to finally make something for Daryl, protected from the high walls that alexandria boasts of are you finally able to bring that vision to life

— warnings : absolutely nothing, except sickly sweet fluff

oooo another daryl request if you’re willing!!! maybe once they get to alexandria reader makes daryl some homemade brownies or some shit because she knows he’s never had much homemade food if any just some domestic cute shit??🥺🥺♥️

          ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　requested     　/    requests are open   *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Sweetness flows throughout the air of your new home, sliding into every corner it can find to fill and warm. The smell of domesticy is something you thought perished long ago when the world died, but here you stand.. with a fresh batch of brownies in the oven baking as if life rebooted and got set back to factory settings. You move from the oven, small steps to the door to be able to survey the kitchen area once more, blinking as if to erase it from your vision, to be greeted with the punishing sun and the dirt filled roads lined with ghosts.

A cozy yellow glow is snug in the pit of your stomach as you think about who the sweet bake belongs to, Daryl has been nothing less than golden. From Atlanta, all the way to Alexandria.. he has always been one to step up without even thinking. You’d shared many secluded moments together, talking about your pasts and while he has never explicitly said anything, you have created a picture in your head about what he has gone through. The love not shared healthily to someone who will always put his family first. Even prior to the downfall of society, you loved to cook for everyone you knew.

You settle yourself with a book on the window ledge close to the kitchen, awaiting the arrival of Daryl, a giddiness that could be likened to a snowfall of glitter falling gracefully within you.

“ you know, when we finally find a new home. I will make you the best brownies you’ve ever had! “

“ if y’don’t burn ‘em first. “ he replied, the corner of his eyes crinkle so delicately as he chuckles lowly.

“ don’t be so fucking mean! here I am trying to do something nice.. it won’t kill you! “ you argue humorously, your fist balling up to punch his arm with little force.

Laughter and carelessness had been a rarity after surviving Terminus, your focus on trying to find safety.. no matter how much of a dream it may be. The journey to coming to terms with the fading faces and memories of the prison has been a painful one, comfort was not something that could easily be found, yet you found it in the least conventionally affectionate person you knew.

“ if anythin’s gonna kill me, it ain’t gonna be your cooking. “

“ actually, I cook very well. it will be a good day when I finally get to show you. “

An airy smile brightens your features, the burdenless weight unable to keep your lips stuck together. Many memories you have with him are of the fond kind, of course, the course of your bond with him runs deep but never has it been a calm sea. There have been moments where you wonder if it’s one sided, if you are inventing a picture that you wish to bleed through to reality, then you are proven wrong and he does things that you know in your heart are true. It has taken losing friends, a home, finding new hope to strengthen that bond and while you would prefer to take the easy road, you know that nothing will ever split the two of you into shards of glass that will never be able to be repaired. You’re both strong people, but stronger together.

A figure clad in black and covered in grime makes their way up the flawless road to where you rest, your vision could be awful but you can make out his being anywhere. The book you hold is laid to rest, your feet already carrying yourself to the door to meet him. Days had past since you last saw him and you can now feel the chords of longing pulling as you had missed him.

Your hand encloses the door handle, swinging it open to finally land your gaze on his form, feeling as if it had been years you’d not done so, as opposed to a few days.

“ took you long enough. “

“ yeah, yeah. quit your complainin’.  “

You move aside, Daryl taking the cue from you and entering the house that bares no soul at that present moment. Everyone is out with their own agenda or job, leaving you to potter about to your own devices.

Some peace and privacy for even a few hours is something you are thankful for, two things that had been incredibly rare from your journey from Atlanta. Though, the noise that comes with your family reminds you of the moments you couldn’t wait to be rid from as you grew up are ones that you no longer fail to appreciate.

“ did you find anybody out there? “

Daryl shakes his head, you see the trouble that he wears often become even more apparent as it overwhelms his features intensely. Knowing Daryl as well as you do, you know that while he won’t admit it out loud, every time he goes out there with Aaron to find people and finds no one wounds his spirit more and more. While his desire to save everyone is admirable, it’s often a concern to you that it might be the straw that breaks the camel’s back and he’s often met with your comforting energy of it being simply an unsustainable trait.

“ you know you won’t always find people, right? “ you ask him softly, tucking your legs underneath you as you seat yourself on the sofa.

Daryl refuses to sit, it’s a thought that regularly finds itself bouncing around your mind as to why he can’t relax even behind the walls of Alexandria.

“ yea’, still sucks though. “ he wipes his thumb across his nose, an unconscious habit on his part, discussing his thoughts and feelings has never been easy, raised in a home full of toxicity stunted him emotionally, something he still wrestles with when the occasion arises.

“ there’s going to be a day where you’ve gone and saved everyone! there won’t be anyone left for you to bring back! cut yourself some slack. “

Daryl doesn’t respond, knowing there is truth in your words but he has seen so much death already, the world gripped by dark and dim choke hold, a little dusting of life is something that has been lacking since it died. Avoidance of feelings is something Daryl flees to when the conversation gets tough, he can deal with  words full of anger and rage, but topics so delicate still feel so alien to him.

“ wha’ y’been up to? “ the male questions you, seemingly interested in what you have been up to, watching you from the otherside of the room.

As if a switch had been flipped, your eyes ignite with excitement and joy as you have finally been able to fulfil your unofficial promise to him.

“ remember when we were talking about my cooking? when you insulted it? “ the sides of your lips gently lift with a soft innocence, you feel the elation slowly warming the entirety of your body at the simpleness of it all.

“ y’ain’t gone and poisoned sumn’ have ‘ya? “ asks Daryl, turning to face you from across the floor where he stood. His tone holds a ‘ blink and you will miss it ‘ humour threaded into his words.

“ I should have! “ laughing at him, you fit your fingers between his and lead him into the kitchen with you.

Touch is still something that sends an uncomfortable shiver to travel the distance down his spine, but with everything you have been through and all the time you have spent together, touch is something he’d never turn from when thinking of you. Your relationship has been a strange, never formal one, but it is perfect for the two of you. Unspoken words full of warmth and fondness are a solidity in each one’s souls, and while you both never shared the extent of what the two of you have with the group, they have their suspicions and theories. But if they know one thing, it’s Daryl’s affection for you runs deep.

“ brownies! “

He peaks into the oven that you have opened, the rich smell of cocoa and heat baking the treats hit him like a brick, a pit forms deep in his stomach. This is different from past meals beforehand. You had gone out of your way for him, of all people. Never could he mentally grip why you have been so kind and benevolent with him but it’s something he treasures deeply. In the beginning he was more abrasive with you more than anyone else, but it used to be his go to defense mechanism with everyone in your family. Softness never being something destined for him was beaten into him for a young age, learning only how to loathe and to only say words in anger. It wasn’t until you came along and took your time with him did he let you in, something you have been grateful ever since.. especially since you have been able to discover the colourful soul that resides within him.

“ y’didn’t have to. “ he replies, his mouth watering at the mere smell of the brownies that are close to being fully baked.

“ Daryl… “ a softness in your response that is only reserved for him is heavy, your eyebrows furrowing in dejection. You know enough of his history to be confident in your placed hurt for him being unable to experience kindness in a positive manner. Your hand trails up his clothed arm and rests on his shoulder lightly, allowing for him to decide whether or not to accept the physical affection. He doesn’t shrug it off, if anything he leans more into your touch. “ you know I’m doing this because I want to, you deserve something nice! “

“ thanks. “

“ and they’re nearly done, so you best take a seat. “

Daryl follows your order with little encouragement, a smirk that he conceals from your view and sits at the lengthy dinner table. He’s having trouble connecting the dots of the dead walking and civilisation ended and the pure normalcy of him sitting at a dinner table about to eat home cooked brownies. Even back when the world was bustling with life and people working their nine to fives were home cooked meals a rarity.

“ so this is what y’spent your day on? “ he asks as he watches you with a spark of fondness in his eyes as you work in the kitchen.

“ cooking is therapeutic. “

“ y’ a weird person. “ Daryl quips, staring at you right in your eyes. His expression gives nothing away, though his eyes speak a thousand words and paint a thousand colours that you understand fully.

It’s lucky you know him so well to understand when he’s being serious and when not.

“ but you like it! “

The squares of the baked treats are uneven and jagged, your features contorting into a confused frown at how they could so well until the end. You blame the knife for the imperfection and flaws of the appearance of what lays before you, however your heart knows it’s your inability to present your dishes artistically.

“ now I apologise they don’t look good but they do taste good! “

“ y’never have to say sorry for anythin’ “ he thoughtless says, his mind to preoccupied with the food laid before him.

A picture painted by his mind long ago had you as the perfect person, it’s comforting to know the flaws you have are nothing short of charming in your own little way. With the lack of elegance associated with him, his fingers dig into the irregular shape of the brownie and shoves half of it  into his mouth.

You watch him with your breath holding itself, never have you been a person who has wanted to impress but when it comes to Daryl? You find yourself wanting to do that and more.

“ well? “

He nods with his mouth full, unable to formulate his words. His jokes about your cooking being bad have been nothing more than that, jokes. But even as he’s consuming the small squares he’s surprised at how good they taste, better than he could even imagine.

“ ain’t half bad. “

“ in Daryl speak that means they’re pretty damn great, huh? “ you question him rhetorically, amusement dancing on each word you speak as you gaze steadily on his form.

“ well y’didn’t burn the house down. “

Your mouth opens and eyes widen considerably as your expression twists from being filled to the brim of affection to one of shock, aghast at his jovial words. The laughter tumbles carelessly from your lips as you reach across to swat his arm playfully.

“ you are so rude! “

He joins in with your laughter, a sight so infrequent that you wish you could burn the image into your mind with no chance of being erased by time. It’s moments like these, where you truly feel like the only two people in the world, stolen moments you hold close to your heart. You hope that you will reach a space where you both will be able to freely express your feelings, while the mutual affection is known between the both of you, sometimes you want to use words. So he knows, because it’s something he deserves. To know how much he is loved, without cowering away from the subject.

“ nah I’m just kiddin’. thanks, I mean it. “

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Reckless

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rough Sex (Vaginal), biting, scratching, breeding, very minor mention of blood, degrading, dirty talk Words:   7812 Pairing: Dragon Fantasy AU Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader 

BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Taking huge risks was never really your thing. All your life living in the castle, you always followed the rules of your role, never stepping out of bounds and never taking chances. You had always thought about it, asking for a different position or perhaps more pay, maybe even just a change in shift. But, in the end, you always decided that, not only was it not worth the possible outrage your superiors could slam upon you, but you could lose what made your position so absolutely wonderful. A change in your work life could rip you away from the presence of your Lord, who you had grown very attached to in an obviously one-sided romantic connection. 

Working with him multiple times during the weeks he was present at the castle was like a dream you never wanted to let end. As a scholar and war strategist, you were his first line of contact when it came to important political or wartime plans, and you cherished the contact and respect he had for you. Your Lord wasn’t one to trust people easily, but with you, it was like he could share even his deepest worries and secrets without worry that you would betray him. Never in your life would you even consider doing such a thing, because in truth, you loved him. 

There were many reasons why you shouldn’t be so enamored with him, but in the end, all they did was make your desires stronger. To the world, to his people and enemies, he was a ruthless brute. Conquering lands and expanding his territory was his constant goal, and even at his young age, he had been incredibly successful. His people respected him, his warriors would die for him, and his enemies cowered at his feet. It was so incredibly attractive to you, to watch him in action and know that you were helping him on this journey, that you were the one to help push him forward. No matter what other opportunities you knew you had, if you were to just simply ask, there wasn’t a chance in hell that you would take it. You didn’t take those risks because you wanted to be here, at his side as much as you were allowed. 

Bakugou Katsuki was your Lord, but he was also the man that made your knees tremble with just a simple glance. He made you soft and filled with such a longing that made your chest ache terribly, and you craved to feel his hand against your skin. Anything would do. A simple touch on your arm. A brushing of his fingers against yours. A secure grip on your hips. A rough tug of your hair in his fist. 

No, no! You couldn’t let your thoughts go that way. It was highly inappropriate for you to think that way of your Lord, even if he was the most attractive man you had ever laid eyes on. Your thoughts on him could click from cute to extreme lust in the time it would take you to blink, and they did so frequently, no matter how you tried to stop it. That adorable fluffy blonde hair matched with that piercing crimson gaze always had your heart racing, and the thick, muscular figure didn’t exactly quell your urges. 

You tried everything you could think of up to this point to get over him. You saw other men who were just as equally built or with similar personalities, but none of them could match up to the way he made you feel without having ever even laid a finger on you. You could imagine in the moment that it was him touching you. Fucking you. They could quench your thirst when it was unbearable, but it was just never enough. You wanted to know what it was like to be closer to him. But how could you? 

You had tried, with subtle hints or during moments of casual conversation that came up during your meetings. An innocent batting of your eyelashes or brushing of your hand along his arm that was, of course, completely accidental. A flirtatious smile. A sultry giggle. A peek down the front of your corset as you bent over the maps to talk strategies. In the end, it was impossible. Sure, you had caught him peeking at your skin or your curves when he thought you weren’t looking, but that wasn’t enough to convince you he was even remotely interested. 

Although your body was on fire for him, it wasn’t all that you wanted. There were cute things about him that you had seen during the times you were alone with him. The way he covered his mouth when you said something that could make him laugh, or the excited grin that would break his face when you gave him good news. You had caught him napping on occasion, and his expression was so soft and calm. You knew there was more behind the short fuse and anger he carried, and it was something that you hoped to see one day. The softness that he had within him was fiercely protected, not only to keep up this image that he was a brutal man, but also because he just wasn’t ready to share those parts of him. 

Especially not with someone whom he wasn’t romantic with, like yourself. He was calm and collected around you, sure, but that could purely be from the nature of your professional relationship. But what if it was more? What if he was really and truly comfortable around you? You could only hope so. 

Hope wasn’t really working for you, however, and the longer you waited to do anything, the bigger your fears grew that he may pick a different woman. Bakugou was a Lord, someone who would need to have heirs to pass his lineage down to, and that meant that he would eventually need to have a wife and children. He had talked about it a few times with his advisors and counsel as far as needing there to be someone in case he was killed in battle or some other tragic event. Each time, he blew it off, but never gave any hints as to why he wasn’t actively searching. 

Although he didn’t want a wife, that didn’t mean that he didn’t have women at his disposal. Being a very frustrated man, much of his stress relief was in the form of sex, and he had plenty of handpicked concubines to serve him. There was a special magic done on each one of them so they could not get pregnant by him, and that procedure was highly regulated by Bakugou and his advisors to make sure there would be no illegitimate children. In truth, you weren’t sure of the exact number of women he had at his beck and call, though you knew it was at least in the double digits by now. 

There was a very good reason for that, and it wasn’t just because he grew bored with the women. Bakugou was dragon kin. That meant that he had powers, abilities, and features of a dragon while he was able to keep a mostly human form. Those included enhanced senses such as eyesight and smell. Sharp canines and nails that he tried desperately to keep trimmed. More strength and stamina. But, your favorite was something that you’re pretty sure he wasn’t even aware that you knew. 

He purred. This strong, gruff, and rough man would occasionally purr. A deep, low rumble in his chest during moments of true relaxation or happiness. You had heard it a few times, when you caught him sleeping before a meeting, resting his head on his arms against the table. It was truly the most adorable thing you had ever heard, and you wondered if he was dreaming about something - or someone - special. 

There was something less adorable that came along with his bloodline, and that particular thing was what affected the number of women he had in his life. Ironically enough, it was the urge to mate. He hated talking about it, so you didn’t know much, but he was frustrated how he felt like nothing but an uncontrollable animal during those few months. It was so difficult for him, in fact, that he locked himself away in his chambers until it was over, if he was able. If he had war or political things to attend to, then it was a decent distraction. But, when he didn’t have that, then all he could do was hide away with his women. 

That’s why there were so many. His needs and urges were nearly insatiable during this time, and even if they could go for a while, the women would eventually need a break. It was an almost constant rotation, though you were never sure of exactly what went on behind those doors. You were free to imagine it in the comfort of your room, hand between your legs as you pictured him absolutely ravaging you from behind. 

Although the thoughts of what he was doing in that room made your body incredibly hot, it also worried you. What if he had a favorite woman that was stealing his heart before you could even have the chance? They were all his body type, since he had picked them in the first place, and they were obviously fluent in how to pleasure him. What if they had a personality he liked, too? If that were so, how could you ever find a way to stand out or get his attention? 

Well, you knew how. 

You had to take a risk. 

A huge one. 

And that just wasn’t your thing. 

That didn’t matter. If you wanted your chance with him, then you knew that you had to put yourself out there in a more… obvious way. You had to show him that you wanted him. Subtle hints just weren’t going to work anymore, if they had worked at all up to this point. It was time to literally jump into the lion's den - or, in this case, dragon’s den - and offer yourself to the beast. And, in reality, that wasn’t an exaggeration. He was in peak rut season right now, and from what you heard, he was absolutely feral. In fact, it was so intense this year that the male servants he had bringing him food had to literally run away before he ripped them to shreds in a territorial rage. There were even rumors that he was showing signs of dragon features that were rare for him, including scales along his skin. Those were just rumors, as far as you could tell, because some said he didn’t and some said he did. 

It was of little consequence. You would see for yourself. 

Although Bakugou was impossible to please during this time, he still kept up a schedule of sorts, and after some spy work, you learned that he actually had been sleeping most of the night and his concubines didn’t start showing up to his room until sunrise. That meant all you had to do was show up before that time. Right? An hour or two before anyone shows up would be plenty of time to see if he’d either take you or reject you. 

So, dressed in nothing but a shift and a coat, you silently made your way through the castle to his chambers, avoiding others who may try to question you. Since it was so early in the morning, before sunrise, there weren't many people out, so the journey was less stressful than you had prepared yourself for. Though, you wished you had done more prepping to have enough bravery once you reached the entrance to his room. You had decided to not go through the main door, and since you knew the route that cleaning servants took and the location of the hidden door, this was a perfect plan to avoid being caught. 

Even still, it took an incredible amount of courage to finally place your hands against the cold stone, nibbling at your bottom lip nervously. You had thought of everything that could go wrong already, and of course, it was rushing back to you like a violent storm. You could be fired. You could be killed. You could be banished. You could be simply rejected and forced to continue your normal life with an incredible sense of shame and regret. You could fall only further in love with him. He could admit his feelings for you. He could use you for his own uncontrollable sexual pleasure. 

He could accept you. 

That’s what kept you from running. There was still hope that he would take you as his woman, which you wanted more than anything. 

You just prayed that you weren’t going to end up biting off more than you could chew. 

After a final trembling breath, you carefully pushed the door open, just wide enough so you could fit through before shutting it behind you. Since it was made to be quiet, there was barely a sound in the dim light of the fireplace, which was blazing across the room. Soft, warm heat rolled across the large room, bringing relief to your cold bare feet and legs. In the flickering shadows, Bakugou’s large bed loomed over the room like a large hungry beast, the posts tall and reaching for the ceiling. The footboard that you could see was very ornate, with dragon bones, horns, and scales, which matched the color of the canopy drapes that hid the man inside. 

Or, it would have. Much to your surprise, you could see rips and tears in the fabric as you stepped closer, which you assumed came from one of his many lustful sessions. There were pillows and blankets also scattered across the floor, abandoned in favor of sleep, and the remnants of his last meal were sitting on a table near the head of the bed. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” 

The dark growl of a voice startled you so badly that you jumped, stumbling back against the wall, eyes darting this way and that to find the source. In the darkest corner of the room, you could see Bakugou’s shadow-cloaked figure, his reflective pupils visible as he glared at you. Feeling heat rush to your cheeks as you tried to calm your racing heart, you placed your hands on your chest, keeping pressed up against the wall. Before finding the strength to answer, you looked over what you could see of his figure, only able to tell that he was perched up on a chair with his legs pulled up into the seat. It was a stiff and uncomfortable position, as if he were forcing himself to stay in place. 

“I… I, uhm… Why are you awake so early?” 

“Are you fucking serious? You’re walking into my room in the middle of the damn night, and you’re asking me why I’m awake?” 

“I… I had just heard that you were having more trouble than usual. I hadn’t heard from you about any of the strategies I sent in and… I got worried.” You could hear the bullshit in your own voice, and you wanted to just bite your own tongue off. Already, you were chickening out of your plan, but his aggressive presence was more radiant than you expected. It was throwing off the small amount of confidence that you had gathered, which you knew you needed to get back as quickly as possible. 

A low rumble escaped him as he lowered his legs to the ground, the growl sending a harsh shiver down your spine. It was so aggressive and intimidating that you nearly felt the need to cower down to the ground, but you kept yourself up on weak legs. It was odd, how he was both frightening you and filling you with a raging lustful fire at the same time. 

Clutching at the front of your coat, you stepped away from the wall, but was once again startled to a halt by his voice. 

“Bullshit. I know you. You’d just send a letter instead. That’s what you’ve always done when I’m like this. On top of that, you’re sneaking around the servant’s halls like a rat.” His teeth were visible as he snarled, clutching on tightly to the arms of the chair. “You think you’re being slick, huh?” 

“I don’t know what you mean…” 

“Yes, you do. You wanted me alone. Sneaky, figuring out my schedule and getting in here without anyone noticing. I’m both impressed and pissed off.” 

“I… You’re right. I did want to come see you when no one would bother us.” Giving your bottom lip a nervous nibble, you began to unbutton the front of your coat, able to see him only further tense in his chair. “I wanted to… ask you something.” 

Bakugou couldn’t take this. How in the hell could this really be happening? This had to be some type of dream, a hallucination brought on by his unquenchable need to breed. How could you actually be here, in his room, at the peak of his rut. It was so dangerous, and you needed to leave. Now, before he lost what little control he had. He wanted to tell you, to snap at you to fuck off, but the words just wouldn’t leave his lips. 

He was too enamored already. Your scent filled his senses like the aroma of a delicious fruit, one which he craved to sink his teeth into and let the juices drip down his chin. Just the sight of you made him dizzy, so disheveled and vulnerable. 

Unexpecting and unaware. 

Beautiful and stupid. 

So fucking stupid. 

As your coat was shrugged off your shoulders, more of your scent wafted over him, forcing him to further dig his claws into the fabric of the chair to keep himself in place. With the light from the fire, your figure was visible to him as a silhouette beneath your white shift, giving him just a taste of that beautiful body he craved. If only you knew how badly he wanted you. How badly he had always wanted you. But it just hadn’t ever been the right time. He had never made the move. 

Now, here you were, tired of waiting and willing to put yourself in such a compromising situation. Your years of flirting, teasing, and genuine care for him was always something he paid great attention to, and the feelings weren’t unwelcomed, like you must have assumed. Of course, he knew it was his fault for refusing to take that step you both craved. 

Still… 

This wasn’t the right time. 

“Tell me what you want,” Bakugou growled, his heartbeat so loud in his ears he could hardly even hear himself. It pulsed through his entire body to his crotch, his cock already hard and straining painfully against the fabric of his sleeping pants. “You’re fucking stupid for coming here. Don’t you know what I could do to you?” Tell her to leave! “Don’t you know what’s wrong with me?” I need to throw her out! Fuck, I want her. I want her! Damn it!

Letting your coat fall to the floor, you took a few steps closer, swallowing the hard lump that had grown in your throat. “I just can’t wait to find out anymore, my Lord.” Growing shy, you timidly fiddled with the fabric of your shift, your body growing hotter with his reaction to the formality. Bakugou’s breathing grew incredibly heavy, his head hanging as he tried to not look at you. 

“Don’t fucking… call me that… Don’t say that!” He spoke with a trembling, angry growl. “Just fucking tell me what you want!” 

“Y-you! I want you! You oblivious jerk!” 

“Oblivious?!” Bakugou barked, standing up so roughly that the chair toppled backwards behind him. The volume of his voice and the movement startled you enough to make you take a few steps back, bringing your hands up to your chest defensively. “I’m oblivious?! You moron! Look who’s just waltzed into my room knowing damn well I’m dangerous right now.” 

“I don’t care,” you stood your ground as Bakugou began to come towards you, his hands balled into fists at his side. “I’m not scared of you. I know that you wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want.” 

“You’re smart enough to know that I’m not completely myself right now. I don’t know what I could do.” His tall and broad stature was incredibly intimidating as he got closer, breaking your tough front and making you stumble over your feet stepping backwards. It wasn’t only his form that caught you off guard, but the intensity of his glare and the patches of crimson scales that broke his skin along his cheeks, chest, and shoulders. 

It was true, what the servants had said about him. This was the worst he had been, probably ever, and you were truly curious as to why. Was his body really beginning to grow desperate to have an heir? Was the need to impregnate and breed worse because of his natural instincts, or was it because he knew who he wanted as his mate and he just hadn’t been able to have her?

Your back was once again pressed against the cold stone of the wall as Bakugou pursued you towards it, and in the next instant, you were trapped by his arms on either side of you, palms pressed against the rough surface. He was so close to you that if you relaxed your body, your chests would touch, and it was hard enough to keep the distance as your breathing grew heavy. “I… I know. But I don’t care. I came here now b-because… because you couldn’t ignore me or brush me off so easily.” 

“That’s fucking bold of you. Reckless.” 

“Why is it so reckless?” You relaxed a little, the warmth radiating from his body calming your momentary fears. “Other women can be with you… Why can’t I?” 

“Are you serious? You’re comparing yourself to one of my whores? To a bitch I can snap my fingers at and have her at my feet? You think that lowly of yourself?” 

Confused, you gave a small shake of your head, feeling an odd fluttering in your stomach. “That’s… I don’t mean that. I mean… it’s safe for other women, why couldn’t it be safe for me?” 

“It’s not safe for them. Why do you think I have to rotate? I could hurt them. I have, however unintentionally. You’re not like them. Don’t compare yourself to them like this… It pisses me off.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I respect you.” 

A fierce heat rushed to your cheeks, spreading across your skin to burn your ears and even your eyes. You had wanted this type of response from him, but it was still such a shock to hear it. Not exactly the love confession you were wanting, but it was something, and he hadn’t forced you out of the door just yet. 

But there was something else, paired with his response that made your heart race. That glare, so dark and frustrated, had softened into what you could only describe as… gentle. There wasn’t a single crease or frown line on his gorgeous face, bringing such a sweetness to him. Even his pupils had relaxed, the thin reptile like slits now wide and blown out. There was more than just respect in that gaze. 

“My Lord,” your voice hitched as he tensed at the formality, shifting half an inch closer to you as his pupils constricted. “There’s… more than just respect. Isn’t there?” Your final question wasn’t confrontational. Instead, it was worried, seeking the affirmation you had dreamt of. 

“Of course there is. But I can’t do this now.” 

Heart sinking, you slowly and carefully brought your hands up to caress his cheeks, but they didn’t stay in place long. The instant you touched his skin, Bakugou grabbed both of your wrists, forcing your arms up over your head against the wall. It was so quick that you barely had time to register what was happening before he began to speak again, a deep growl that you could even feel reverberating in your chest. 

“I said I can’t do this now! Don’t just fucking touch me! You don’t understand!” Although he was saying these things, his body was betraying him, pressing in closer to you, one leg slipping between yours to further keep you in place. “I’m not me right now! I’m a fucking animal.” 

“T-That’s not true!” The position of your arms was making it difficult to find the breath to speak, unable to resist wiggling in his grip uncomfortably. Your thighs clenched around his and your chest ached up against him, your lips permanently parted against your panting and struggles. “This is you! It’s a part of you, My Lord--” 

“--Don’t call me that!” 

“-- You have to accept it. I accept it. I want to be here for you.” 

You had to stop. Bakugou had to make you stop. Somehow. He wasn’t going to be able to control himself much longer. That beautiful flushed and pleading expression. Your plush breasts pressing against him with every breath and wiggle. The scent of your arousal fogged his mind with every breath and he could hear your heartbeat, so rapid and desperate. He knew that he needed to make you stop this, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to stop. 

No, at this point, he didn’t think he could stop. How much he adored you was swirling with the fierce need to fill you with his seed, to fuck you for hours on end until you were absolutely filled to the brim. He wanted to mark you, sink his fangs into your soft flesh, taste your sweet essence, and hear you scream his name. 

More than anything, he wanted to have you as his mate. His lover. His queen. All these years of having you by his side had always felt so natural, like you were always meant to be there. Now, he had you, so willing and accepting of him even in his darkest moments. Was this really okay? Could he really let himself take you now, when he was unsure of what was love and what was lust? 

Frustrated, Bakugou pressed his forehead against yours, clenching his eyes shut tightly to alleviate the red from his vision. Trying to restrain himself so intensely was beginning to grow painful, his muscles and joints aching from the need to just devour you. Even your lips barely brushing against his was enough to send shocking tingles through every nerve, urging him to taste you. 

I shouldn’t do this.

But I need her. I want her! 

I could hurt her! She doesn’t know what I could do. 

She’s not protected by the magic… She could become pregnant--

“Katsuki.” 

The sultry sound of his name coming from your lips instantly snapped his restraint like a twig, not even opening his eyes as he kissed you roughly. The feeling of his hot lips against yours made you immediately melt into him, moaning softly with the first rough nibble to your bottom lip in a demand for access. The kiss was sloppy and wet, with little direction except the mutual cravings to taste each other. You couldn’t help but wonder for a moment if he kissed the other women like this, so fierce and passionate, with an unrelenting aggressiveness that made you feel weak in the knees. 

Unable to move or find a moment to breathe, you began to struggle again, trying to tug your arms down out of his grip to at least be able to hold him. You had no luck. Instead, he moved to grip both of your wrists with one hand, his other roughly gripping your neck and pressing you back against the wall with a frustrated growl. “You trying to escape me?” His lips left yours, pressing against your flushed cheek with a wicked smirk. A low rumbling began in his chest, a deep and hungry purr that was completely different from the sweet and innocent sound you had heard in the past. “My little pet… You can’t get away, now.” 

A soft whimper escaped you, biting down onto your bottom lip as Bakugou ran his tongue along your cheek to your ear, leaving a hot trail of saliva in his wake. “I-I’m not…” You relaxed your head back against the stone, looking up at the ceiling as his tongue slid along the shell of your ear. The pain of his teeth pulling on your earlobe was paired with the pleasure of his knee pressing up into your sex, your clit immediately met with the friction of his pants as there was no underwear to create a barrier. 

Able to feel your heat against his leg, his purr only grew deeper, his hand leaving your throat to move down your body. His touch was hot and rough, caressing your figure and digging his sharp nails into your plush areas that he deemed worthy of a squeeze. You couldn’t help but continue to whine and wiggle with the slight pain, only further pleasuring yourself against his leg. “K-Katsuki--” 

“Don’t be shy,” Bakugou spoke in your ear, his hot breath running down your neck. “You want me? Show me how much of a horny bitch you are.” His hand set firm on your hip, his teeth lightly scraping along the skin of your jaw. “C’mon, pet. You were so desperate to have me, now you do.” 

God, your body was so hot. Every inch of you felt like a raging inferno, and the fire had nowhere else to escape but between your legs. Your sex was throbbing and aching, absolutely begging for his touch. The need was too much, so you began to roll your hips, grinding yourself eagerly against his leg. 

“That’s it,” Bakugou released your wrists, tugging your body in closer while still forcing you to straddle his leg. Now, however, each roll of your hips had you pressing into his cock, his girth impressive from what you could feel. Your head free for the moment, you took the chance to look down, eyes glancing over his muscular torso before focusing on the bulge in his pants. The grey fabric was taut against the form of his cock, and was dark with wetness from where you assumed the head to be. You wanted to touch him, to feel him throb in your hands, but you found that they were otherwise engaged. 

You were forced to hold on tightly to his shoulders to keep yourself balanced, since Bakugou was doing little to help you. He had both his hands on your ass, holding and squeezing while you fucked his thigh. His lips were still at your neck, growling and panting against your skin with each moment of pressure against his cock. Listening to him, you started to feel lost in the moment, loosening up to instead wrap your arms around his neck. Though, with a sudden rough bump of his leg into your sex, you released a loud moan near his ear, which was quick to set him off again. 

Taking the back of your shift into his hands, he ripped the thin fabric open, exposing your back to the chill of the room. “A-ah, Katsuki-- Wait--” Removing his leg from between yours, you found your front pressed into the wall, the torn shift falling in loose rags against your body. Standing behind you, Bakugou kept one hand on your back between your shoulders to make sure you couldn’t move, while his other trailed down your back and to your hip. He left light marks along your skin from his nails, but those really weren’t what he was focusing on. That perfect curve and dip in your back. The shape and plushness of your perfect ass. The light glistening off your skin where your essence had spread across your sex and down your thighs. 

“So pretty,” Confident that you weren’t going to move, he released your back to grip your ass in both hands, spreading you open to see every inch of you. You couldn’t stop the twitching of your pussy at his touch, his thumbs so close that your body instinctively arched out more for him. The effort paid off for a moment, his thumbs slipping into your folds to pull your pussy open nice and wide for him. “Fuck… How many other cocks have filled up this pretty pussy?” 

Turning your head a bit to look at him over your shoulder, you caught his piercing glare, feeling your core twist at the sight. “N-not that many… They can never satisfy me.” 

Leaning forward, Bakugou pressed his lips roughly against your cheek, his hips grinding into yours and digging the length of his cock against your sex. “And none of them ever will,” He growled into your ear. “You’re mine. And once I’m done with you, all you’ll be able to think about is my cock. You’re going to be so fucking marked up and covered in my cum no other man will ever think about touching you.” 

“I don’t want any other man. I only want you.” 

“Good girl.” Another lick and bite on your ear made you moan softly. “My little pet… My pretty mate.” His hands left you for only a moment to pull his pants down, finally freeing his hard and throbbing cock. It came to rest for a moment between your cheeks, giving you a decent look at it once he sat up from leaning over you. His length and girth matched the size and muscular figure of his body, making your entire body quiver with a mix of excitement and worry. 

“S-so big…” Your voice came out as a trembling whisper, though you had expected it to stay in your mind as a mere thought. Bakugou chuckled, slowly running his tip along your wet slit, teasing your clit. 

“We’ll see if it’s everything you’ve dreamt about.” Without any further warning, Bakugou began to push his cock into you, the tightness of your cunt pulling a sharp hiss from his mouth. “Oh fuck…!” 

The feeling of him entering you immediately made you feel breathless, gasping and digging your nails into the stone wall. “A-ah, wait--! It’s so big! I-I’m not,- I can’t-!” 

“You said you could take it, my pet. So take it.” 

With a sharp snap of his hips, Bakugou buried himself completely within you, making you cry out and nearly collapse as your knees tried to buckle out from under you. There wasn’t another second that passed before he began to fuck you, holding your hips steady with a fierce grip. It was so much at once that your mind was already going blank, the initial uncomfortable feeling of being so incredibly full beginning to morph into an unrelenting pleasure. It left you completely breathless, barely able to find the strength to stay standing. All you could do was moan. 

“How does that cock feel inside you, huh? You like being fucked like the horny bitch you are?” A rough slap to your ass made your voice squeak, and you somehow found the conscious strength to look back at him over your shoulder. 

“I-it feels good! M-my Lord, do whatever you want with me!” You gasped as your hair was suddenly in his fist, pulling you back up against his torso. Hand wrapping around your throat, he continued to thrust into you, his lips at your ear as his deep grumbling purr began again. 

“Don’t fucking call me that. What is my name?” 

“K-Katsuki-!” It was almost impossible to speak through the grip he had on your neck, and mixed with the breathlessness brought on by the pleasure, you weren’t sure if you were even going to stay conscious. 

“Say it again.” 

“Katsuki!” 

“And what am I?” 

“M-my mate! Katsuki, please, I--” As your eyes began to roll back, you found your body floating in a hazy sea of pleasure, the lack of steady oxygen making you oblivious to everything else. It had already been building up in your core, pushing you closer and closer towards release, but you just weren’t there yet. 

“Are you going to cum already, my little pet?” His nails dug into the skin of your neck, making you wince and whine from the pain. Yet, you didn’t hate it. 

“M-more! Katsuki, please- A-ah! Fuck!” Releasing your neck, he grabbed both of your wrists and pulled them back, forcing you to bend over. With this new leverage, he slammed his cock so deep and hard into you that you couldn’t even find the air to moan. Head hanging, you watched his muscular legs and the way your arousal dripped from your ravaged pussy behind blurry, teary vision, only able to take a split second to be amazed at how truly turned on you really were. You were the hottest you had ever been in your entire life, so needy and aching for any attention or passion Bakugou would throw your way. It didn’t matter what he wanted to do to you. You would take it all just to finally be one with him. 

Each thrust inside of you had your pleasure spiking, the coil within your core growing tighter and tighter, until the tension was too much to bear. When it finally broke, your body reacted without any conscious thought, twitching and trying desperately to escape the pleasure as he only continued to pound into you against the constricting of your walls. “Ka- a-ah! N-no, wait--!” 

“Not so fast, my pet,” Bakugou used his grip on your arms to yank you backwards, one hand firmly on your throat. His other arm latched around your hips, keeping you in place while continuing to roll and dig his cock deep inside you, pressing against that delicious spot that drove you mad. “Fuck, your pussy feels so good squeezing my cock like that. You’re so damn perfect, I just want to fill you up until you’re dripping with my cum.” 

“F-fill me up, Katsuki-!” You gave a choked moan as his grip tightened on your neck, his deep, grinding movements returning to the erratic and rough thrusts. You could tell that, in that moment, the thought of pleasuring you at all had completely left him. All that was on his mind now was doing just as he wanted, just as you had asked him to, and you were at his mercy. Even his teeth sinking into the skin of the crook of your neck didn’t deter the pleasure for you, the sudden spike of pain only making you arch your hips up even more for him, up on your tiptoes as far as you could possibly get. 

With the movement, Bakugou released a frustrated growl mixed in with his groans and sighs of pleasure, his teeth only sinking further into your skin. The warmth that spread down your collarbone told you that he must have broke skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat that filled your womb in the next instant. The cum that coated your pulsing walls was hotter than anything you had ever felt, bringing a gasp from your hoarse throat. Desperately trying to clutch on to anything that you could to help distract you from the feeling, you snatched onto the arm of the hand that held your neck, clawing at his skin. 

“H-hot, oh fuck- it’s so hot!” Although at first it was an uncomfortable sensation, you were slowly enveloped by the warmth, spreading through every inch from the belly out. When you began to relax, your eyes grew heavy, loosening your tense posture to rest back against Bakugou’s broad chest. “So hot… It’s nice…”

Teeth still in your skin, Bakugou began to purr, that same deep and rough sound that vibrated all through your body. Releasing your neck, his hand moved down your body, coming to a stop on your stomach. “Mm…” He smirked against your bleeding skin, running his tongue along the wound. “Delicious… You’re going to look so fucking beautiful when you’re carrying my children.” As he pulled his still hard cock out of you, his cum began to dribble down your trembling thighs, wondering for a moment just how much he had released. 

Mind still hazy from the pleasure and the heat, you brought a hand up to tangle into his hair, turning your head to catch his lips. The metallic, sweet taste of your blood of his lips and his tongue were of no consequence, moaning softly against the kiss as both of his hands gripped and squeezed your breasts eagerly. From the feeling of his cock still between your thighs, hard and pulsing, you knew that this wasn’t over. You didn’t want it to be over. He had felt so heavenly inside of you, his attention and affection, however rough it may be, was filling your heart to the brim. 

“I want to… Katsuki, please pick me! I want to always be at your side, to be your wife and carry your children.” You turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Please make me your mate!” 

There wasn’t another word shared between you as he kissed you, cupping your backside to scoop you up into his arms. Legs hooking around his waist, he carried you towards the bed, the plush softness of the blankets against your back lost to the euphoria that was his body intertwined with yours. 

…

Bakugou wasn’t sure the time of day when he finally came out of his haze. The red that had blurred his vision had subsided in a sudden flash of white, finding that he was panting quite heavily, his forehead pressed into soft flesh. His consciousness returned to him slowly with the final pounding waves of his orgasm, his cock buried deep within the still twitching and constricting walls of a woman. No, not just any woman. It was his woman. You. 

Slowly, he felt tired arms wrap around him, softly stroking up and down his scratched and sweaty back. With this movement, his head was gently pushed further against wherever he rested, which became clear by the pulsing against his lips that it was your neck. With a deep groan, Bakugou kissed your skin softly, working his way up along your jawline to your cheek. Your fingers in his hair made him feel so calm and secure, more than he had ever felt in the weeks since his rut first started. 

It was odd. Usually, Bakugou could never stop once he got going. At least, not without using extreme self-control. He would need to keep going until his body was at its limit, but now, there was nothing. All that was left was this overwhelming softness, an urge to protect, and a love that he had refused to accept all these years. You were something so special to him, so incredibly precious, and you were his. All his. 

Is that why he finally felt at peace? Is this what he had been missing? Are you what he had been craving for all this time? 

The unfamiliar butterflies fluttering about in his stomach were proof enough, bringing him to nuzzle his nose against your cheek as your hand softly stroked his. It was then that the uncontrollable soft rumble began in his chest, which was the complete opposite of the aggressive purr he had been making most of the morning. He finally had you. And he was happy. 

“Katsuki,” You spoke in a hoarse whisper, turning your head a bit to finally catch his gaze. “What’s that cute noise you’re making?” Your continued touch along his cheek made him realize that his scales had finally subsided, figuring he was mostly back to normal for the time being. How bad he had gotten, he really couldn’t remember, and just hearing how faint your voice was made him worry. 

“Fuck off, you know what it is. Are you alright?” 

Clearing your throat, you nodded, smiling against his lips. “I’m fine, Katsuki. Perfect, actually. I’ve never been happier… But I am pretty thirsty.” 

“You look it.” Carefully moving some hair out of your face, Bakugou placed a kiss on your lips before sitting up from you, removing his member as well. As he flopped to sit on the bed, he felt a twinge of true concern while looking you over. “Fuck. I was way too damn aggressive.” Bruises, bitemarks, and red scratches littered your beautiful skin, your neck and thighs being the areas that received the most abuse. Shiny with sweat, you were truly a sight to behold, and the amount of his cum that stained your body and pooled between your legs was more than he had seen in a while. You were beautiful and ruined. Marked and scratched. And all his. 

“Oh, I really don’t mind.” Sitting up, you lightly ran your fingers along a bite mark on the top of your left breast. “I didn’t know what to expect coming in, but… it really did feel amazing. I’ll be sore, but it’s worth it!” Smiling, you reached over and took both of his hands tenderly, bringing one up to softly kiss his fingers. “Mm… I’m so happy…” 

With only a light tug on your hand to beckon you forward, Bakugou let his arms rest around your waist as you straddled his lap, facing him. A soft kiss was shared as you rested against him, the purr returning. “I am, too. It was a stupid fucking thing for you to do, but… I’m glad you took the risk of coming here.” 

“You were pretty much moving subconsciously through most of it, though, right?” 

 “Hm… I mean, I remember some things, and the feelings, but that animalistic part of me was… really strong.” 

“I was just gonna say that… it was super cute when you kept calling me your mate,” You couldn’t resist a smile as Bakugou’s cheeks flushed, the color spreading to the tips of his ears. “And you were calling me your pet.” 

“Ah... Well, so what if I was?!” Bakugou’s embarrassment instantly had him feeling defensive, even as you laughed and hugged him tightly. “I wanted you, alright?! And not just right then, for fucking years! I was excited-- stop laughing at me!” 

You nuzzled your nose against his neck, sighing in happiness as you closed your eyes. “Aahh, Katsuki… you’re so cute. I’m so happy that you picked me, out of all the women you could have.” 

“There’s no other woman I’d ever want than you. How about we clean up and get some food. I think we could both use some rest. My beautiful mate…”

[lilxberry]

His Snowdrop - Fili

Warnings: Fluff. Injury. Violence. Mentions of blood. Pregnancy. Sweet ol’ Fili. That’s pretty much it, I’m sure.

Words: 3,201

Pairings: Fili x Reader (wife!reader) (pregnant!reader)

(A/N: Reader is mute but there is dialog between you and the others during the flashback.)

Amrâlimê = My love

_______________

“Hello, my little snowdrop.”

You looked up at the use of the nickname your husband had taken to calling you ever since before you two had begun courting each other. You smiled towards Fili and set your book aside gently, raising from your position from atop the sill of the window. With no spoken words, you advanced towards your husband and laid a gentle kiss upon his cheek covered in golden hair.

As you pulled back, Fili had quickly turned his face to plant a chaste kiss to your soft, plumps lips, causing a blush to rise up your neck and adorn your cheeks. He smiled triumphantly, knowing he can still make his wife flush with a shy red after so long of marriage.

“I hope you have been well whilst I did my duties for Erebor.” He took your hand in his considerably larger one, gently running his thumb across the bare knuckles within his tender grasp. You simply nodded whilst continuing to beam up towards your love which he mirrored.

It had been no more than 5 years since the battle of the five armies and the reclaiming of The Lonely Mountain, rightful home of the exiled dwarves. You had been amongst Oakenshields’ company, finally meeting many dwarves first at the home of Bilbo. That was where you had first met Fili, one of the two young nephews of Thorin, heirs to the throne.

You had gotten along quite well with all within the company. You and Ori had a fair similar interest with art, an interest in healing you shared with Oin. Bofur and Bombur had shared your equal love of food, your skill in the hunt had bode well with Bifur. Your fearlessness and bravery along with the ability to wield your weapons well had landed you in good graces with all, especially Thorin, Dwalin and Gloin. Dori and Nori had valued your compassion, especially that towards the young one Ori. Your sense of humour and like for jesting had greatly bonded you with both Kili and Fili, the older of the young princes’ especially.

Both Bilbo and Gandalf had said they had liked you for you, no particular trait in mind. But they were not the only to like you for more than a specific trait.

All of that listed and more had drawn Fili to you, including that of beauty, but all he truly knew was that of knowing you were his One. You had began courting after a short while along your journey, Thorin, although you feared the worse, had simply agreed and spoke that you were possibly the only one fit for his nephew. You had smiled at the high standard he had viewed you at and celebrated internally before you and Fili had gathered everyone to tell of your courting.

He had braided your hair and you his after conversation and a hearty meal, clasping the braid in traditional, metallic courting beads and not far off, had wed during the companies’ travels, neither of you wanting to wait any longer to truly call each other theirs and theirs alone.

You smiled, simply remembering the simple and joyous times in-between the hardships you faced along the way to the mountain. Fili noted the smile that accompanied your usual reminiscing and stared down at you with a loving gaze. “Remember when Bombur had eaten most of the food whilst our ceremony had gone on?”

You released a silent giggle, eyes creasing at the corner as your smile widened. He somehow always knew what thoughts you were thinking. You sighed, albeit mute, as you raised your hand and caressed his cheek, running your thumb gently across the hairline of his beard.

He leant into your hand as you continued to show affection towards him. Although you had many a happy memory from your journey home, one lingered constantly within your mind which saddened you greatly, one that had taken the ability to voice your love for Fili and your appreciation for your friends away.

--- flashback ---

You walked alongside the rest of your company; hand clasped in Fili’s own tightly, slowly but surely making progress towards Erebor.

Fili had gazed down at you as you all walked, a leisurely pace, listening to the background chatter of the other dwarves. You felt his eyes upon you and the corners of your mouth upturned the slightest. “And what is it you are looking at?”

He chuckled as he heard your playful and teasing tone, but he could not bring himself to return it as he found no humour in his overbearing amount of love for you. “Just my beautiful wife.”

You clicked your tongue turned your head towards him. “I hope you’re enjoying the view greatly then.”

Kili surpassed you both whilst he heaved jokingly. “Will you too stop your soppy exchanges?! I’m gonna vomit.” Kili turned to face you both as he continued to walk backwards, a cheeky smirk across his face. “I never thought marriage would make you such a sap, brother.”

“Would you leave the pair alone boy?” Balin spoke from near the front of the group, a tinge of annoyance evident within his voice. You giggled at the elder dwarfs’ scolding of the young prince.

“Thank you, Master Balin.” You conveyed your gratitude of his stepping in.

He sent you a smile over his shoulder. “No problem lass. I think it’s wonderful that yet another good thing to come of this journey.”

You turned to smile at Fili, who you found to be already looking at you with a smile etched across his handsome face. You opened your mouth to speak but was quickly cut off by the loud patter of the Wargs’ paws at the treeline behind.

You all quickly turned to see a pack of orcs, Bolg amongst them. Slight panic overtook the group at the sight. “Run you fools!” Gandalf yelled at the group before you all took off at a speed you’d never think possible for a group of dwarves, a hobbit, an old wizard and yourself.

You heard the loud roar of Bolgs’ anger before the pounding of Wargs’ feet slam against the ground below, gradually getting louder the closer they came. They chased and chased until you ran out of room to run. You had run yourself into nothing but a closed off area with no escape in sight.

Fili had pushed you behind him as the orcs formed a semi-circle in front of the group, boxing you all in. You knew Fili would never diminish your ability to fight and this was purely out of instinct to protect his beloved. The orcs closed in, Bolg had a horrid smirk across his hideous face.

Bolg and the others dismounted their Wargs and slowly proceeded towards the group. Soon, swords, battle axes and blades clashed against each other as the fight had started almost instantaneously. You were fairing quite well by your own, already taking down orcs three times the size of you.

Bolg had noticed that you stood a bit away from the others and took advantage of your lack of surrounding allies. He quickly appeared behind your form and gripped a fistful of your hair into his large, cold hand, narrowly avoiding your courting braid and brought a large orc blade against your throat, it already digging ever so slightly into your skin, causing the smallest amount of blood to trickle from the tiniest of cuts.

The others had noticed fairly quickly, fear for you had washed over them. “Y/N!” Fili spoke. Only two emotions were painfully clear as you gazed at your husband, fear and anger. Your own weapon had dropped a distance from your body as Bolg forced you to your knees in front of his, wincing as your knees hit the hard floor below you harshly.

“Let her go!” Thorin had shouted, anger oozing from him, so much so, it nearly matched that of Fili’s but Bolg had only laughed at Thorins feeble attempt, digging the blade further into your skin.

The shine of your blade had caught your eye and you looked at it from the edge of your peripheral vision. You looked back towards the group who were switching their gaze between you and Bolg, noting that the orcs attention was focused solely on the group who stood before the both of you.

You returned your gaze back towards your blade as your arm ever so slowly reached out to your right towards the hilt of your weapon, cautious of your movements. You quickly glanced towards Fili and Kili, knowing that their eyes had settled on you alone, no alternating between you and the hideous creature behind.

Fili and Kili both shook their heads subtly but all you could do was give them a look to tell them that it was okay. You tried to get across to them that you wanted them to keep the Bolg and the orcs attention away from you as you act out your plan.

They nodded after a moment of hesitation to show they had understood and had begun to indulge Bolg in a heated back and forth argument, meaning you could continue to inch closer to the blade.

Once you were certain you were mere millimetres away from the hilt, you quickly grasped it and brought the blade towards your hair, swiftly cutting it and freeing you from Bolgs’ grip. But may have been in vain as your body twisted, forcing the blade to drag across your neck, cutting deep. You quickly clasped your hand over the large wound and swung your sword once more, slashing open Bolgs’ abdomen, eliciting a pained scream to erupt from his throat.

You quickly fell to the floor, black spots already clouding your vision as the blood rushed from your throat as fast as the white waves the rapids. Fili had yelled out your name as he hastily rushed to your side as the others had pushed forward, forcing the orcs to retreat, dragging a screaming Bolg with them.

Once sure they had left, the others had also quickly come to your aid, Oin pushing past the group to reach your side to evaluate your wounds. He ordered Fili to apply pressure on to the large, deep wound as he prepared something to block the bloods exit point and cause a clot of some sorts to slow the loss of blood.

A deep crimson red quickly engulfed Fili’s trembling hands as your head hung back, body limp and almost lifeless. “Y/N!! Stay with me, amrâlimê, stay awake!!” He pleaded with you, terrified. He felt his heart break ever second your eyes stayed closed.

Gandalf had retrieved a horse seemingly from nowhere and sat upon it. “Quickly! Hand her here!” He spoke, words rushed out towards the group. After Oin had quickly wrapped your neck the best he could, they hoisted you up atop the horse and into Gandalf’s arms. As soon as Gandalf deemed he had a secure grip on you, he rode off. “Head West and you shall find us.” He shouted as he rode away.

And with that, they began their trek West, making their way to wherever you may be as quickly as they possibly could. All Fili and the others could elf was hope and pray that you would be okay as they closed in on where you had been taken.

_______________

You had awoken and all you knew is that the light be too harsh and your throat hurt immensely. You squinted as the light pained your eyes and turned your head to your left where you had noticed your husband where he slouched over, hand grasping yours, head resting upon the bedding beside you.

You tried to make a sound, but nothing but pain erupted. It had made you scream out but once again, not a single sound was made and pain erupted throughout your being, causing you to clench your fists tightly in the hopes of elevating your pain which had caused Fili to shoot up from his hunched over position. “Y/N, what’s wrong?!” Fili asked worriedly as he looked down at you.

All you could muster was a shake of your head as tears cascaded down your face. Fili had called out for help as loud as he could whilst he gazed at you concerned. A few of the company and an unknown person had hurriedly crammed themselves through the door and into the room all the while you continued to screw your eyes shut tightly and sob in a silent manner.

“What’s wrong with her? What’s wrong with my wife?!” He looked up at the man who stood before him examining his wife.

The man had sighed as Kili laid a comforting hand upon his brothers’ shoulder, though it went unnoticed by the panicked prince. “It appears the damage to her throat and vocal cords cause her pain as she tries to make even the slightest of sounds. I fear the damage that had been done by the blade, though fortunately not fatal, may run too deep for her to utter a spoken word again.”

Those who stood near the door had finally entered and joined the others within the room with solemn expressions. Upon hearing this, you willed your own eyes to open and you finally gazed upon the man that was currently unknown to you through watery eyes, your vision blurred from the pain and fresh tears that continuously threaten to spill.

Thorin had quickly exchanged a look with the grey wizard, soon turning to head towards the door, not before sending you a small smile that was riddled with guilt and a pat to his nephews’ shoulder sympathetically who had a look of sadness yet brute determination across his face.

The others had followed Thorins’ example, all giving their own form of comfort towards their companions, thought none dared speak. In time, the room had been vacated by all except the wedded pair. You stared blankly ahead of you, now void of tears left to cry for the time being, all the while Fili had taken a seat atop the bed beside you, slowly and gently cradling your hand in his.

“Amrâlimê, my snowdrop, please look at me.” He whispers as softly as a summer nights breeze, afraid that even speaking at this volume may cause you sadness.

You slowly turned your gaze towards your husband, anguish shone deeply within your (E/C) orbs. He moved himself closer, laying his forehead to rest against yours. “I love you, your voice does not change that in the slightest. I will be your voice, forever ‘til the day I perish. I know this will truly be heart breaking for you and that you may feel sadness through the loss of your voice, but your voice had never truly made you who you are. What’s inside here,” he pointed towards your chest which your heart lay underneath, “is what made you, you.”

You teared up at his loving speech and words of encouragement. You could do nothing more than lean into his embrace further as stray tears slipped from your tear ducts. Fili cradled your head tenderly to his chest, combing his large fingers through your now short hair expect one section where your braid dangled.

He ran his finger and thumb over the braiding and across the bead and smiled. “I must admit, I’m eternally grateful that your braid remains.” You smiled and nuzzled yourself further into his warm and loving embrace. “I love you, snowdrop.”

You thought for a moment before tapping at the left side of his chest where his heart rests and tapped lightly three times, hoping that he would understand that you responded, desperately trying to relay those three words back to him.

He looked down at you and smiled, tapping your own chest the three times before settling further back into the bed, laying your head to rest upon his chest. He pressed a kiss atop the crown of your head and closed his eyes.

Only now he felt he could finally breath, releasing a long sign. He knew that you were going to be okay and he thanked the Gods with his whole being and more for allowing him to have you in his arms, alive and well.

--- end of flashback ---

You smiled sadly as your head had lowered, placing one hand over your large, faded scar and the other hand on to your husbands chest. Once more, as if he knew what had been playing running through your mind, he lifted your chin and placed a chaste yet passionate kiss upon your lips. “I love you, snowdrop.” He spoke as he tapped your chest three times with his large pointer finger.

You beamed up at Fili, a wide smile that he instantly mirrored as he recognised your spirit lifting. You tapped his chest four times and the look of confusion that had spread across Fili’s face had been comical enough to elicit a silent giggle from you, shoulders bouncing up and down slightly.

“What does the fourth one mean, amrâlimê?” You mouthed a singular word, ‘more’, and grinned cheekily up at Fili. He laughed boisterously as he gathered you in his arms, raising you slightly from the floor. “You never cease to surprise me, my snowdrop.”

At this, your grin could only widen as you turn to retrieve a tiny piece of folded parchment you had written on and hidden between the pages. You faced your husband once again as you held out the piece for him to take. He attentively does so and unfolds it with caution.

He read over the 3 simple words that lay along the centre of the paper and he froze, wide eyed. You swore he had stopped breathing for a moment. ‘I’m with child.’ The initial shock had worn off fairly quickly and his head snapped up towards you, a small smile playing upon his lips. “Are you sure amrâlimê?”

You nodded ferociously and he grinned as he surges forward and crashes his lips against yours, smiling entirely throughout. He pulled back and cupped your face between his hands. “We must tell everyone immediately.” He was just as excited as a child witnessing the first fall of snow during the season of winter.

He engulfed your hand into his own and pulled you hastily through the halls as he repeated the loud and joyful announcement of you bearing his kin. All you could do is smile as your husband trapsed around gleefully and prideful. You shook your head adoringly at your husbands’ antics.

As everyone congratulated the young prince and his wife, you, Fili could only sigh just like he had when he comforted you after the initial loss of your voice, although, now happy not just for you live but for you live happily, carrying his son or daughter.

His family was only to expand more and more, and he couldn’t be more ecstatic from the thought. For now, all he could do was support you the best way he can during your long pregnancy and the years that follow, for he lives solely for you, his family, his amrâlimê, his snowdrop.

_______________

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I don’t know what it is but I’ve just recently been in the mood for LOTR/The Hobbit stuff

Especially Fili, I feel like he’s kinda overshadowed by Kili (who I love, don’t get me wrong)

I really enjoyed writing this so I hope you enjoy reading this just much

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

[erin-bo-berin]

My Heroine

MASTERLIST

This fic was inspired by the song My Heroine by The Maine which you can listen to here, if you’d like. The song I’ve come to realize sounds like it can have multiple interpretations, but I was inspired to use the whole “reader is Spencer’s drug of choice” plot. Not gonna lie it was rough writing about his prison trauma cause I consider it to be one of his biggest traumas, but I kinda wanted this to be a journey from his avoidance of it to his eventual acceptance, all while sex is his “heroin” or the reader is the “heroine” in his story. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut)

Word Count: 4,460

I’m feeling pretty dirty baby

Forgive my sins

I get the feeling you can save me honey,

My heroine

The silver gleam from the sharp blade caught his eye as it hit the light. In any other circumstances, the sharpness of it might actually be considered  beautiful.

This was anything but beautiful.

This was horrifying.

The metal was so closely pressed to skin that even a small flinch could draw blood.

“Never ever mess with a man’s stash on the inside. When you do,” the man paused for a second—a millisecond—before the knife sliced across the skin, ripping the hostage’s throat open.

He struggled against the person holding him, his momentary shock and need to help his friend making him fight the grip of the big man, even more.

“People get hurt,” the first guy said, backing away.

The second man let go of him, his friend falling to the floor, choking on his own blood. While they made their departure from the laundry room, he ran to his injured friend’s side, grabbing a towel to hold against the wound.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeated, kneeling over the only friendly face he’d known in the last weeks.

If he repeated it enough, he’d be okay. He had to be. 

“Guard!” he yelled.

His hands cradled his friend’s face as he lay gasping and wheezing, the fear in his eyes matching his own. 

In all the years, throughout all the things he saw that most normal people didn’t, he’d never been as terrified as he was right now. His heart raced from the fear and he was breathing heavy as he screamed as loud as he could.

“HELP! HELLLLP!”

Spencer shot up in bed, breathing hard.

His face was sweaty, his entire body was sweaty, in fact. His t-shirt clung to his skin.

He kicked off the covers, sitting on the side of his bed, running his hands through his hair. He tried in vain to calm his pounding heart and slow his breathing.

The nightmares hadn’t stopped. If anything, they’d gotten worse.

A rare burst of anger caused him to shove the object that was sitting on his nightstand, off of it with extreme force.

He glared at the journal on the floor where it had landed haphazardly. He didn’t want to write in it like his therapist suggested. It didn’t help him then and it wasn’t going to help him now.

He rubbed his eyes, trying desperately to erase all the images that constantly played behind his eyes, regardless if he was asleep or awake.

It was the middle of the night, but he knew what he needed. He grabbed his phone off the charger and sent a quick text.

I need a distraction.

The recipient would understand, he knew. It was only 1 am and they were known to be a night owl anyway. 

He grabbed a pair of pants to change into and pulled them on in place of his pajama pants. All he had to grab were his car keys and his phone and he was out the door.

-

It’d only been six months since Spencer had been released from prison in which he spent three long, grueling months in.

He had been framed.

That was the first thing he remembered thinking, even under the influence of heroin and cocaine, in which the unsub had drugged him with. He had been sitting in a prison cell in Mexico, but deep down he knew he hadn’t done anything, even if his mind was scrambled and tried desperately to convince himself otherwise.

Fucking Cat Adams. If she hadn’t been such a psychopath, he might’ve admired her intelligence and skills to pull off something so elaborate, but alas, she was.

Her and her female partner Lindsey Vaughn had been watching him, waiting to strike. All because Spencer had arrested Cat and outsmarted her. It’s where she belonged after all. She’d been a

hit woman, operating in the shadows of the dark web that even experts in the area couldn’t even fathom.

She, along with four other assassins had been working for years before any law enforcement even knew of their existence. Spencer and the rest of his fellow Behavioral Analysis team had been the only ones to get close enough to them. Close enough in fact, to take them all down, every last one.

Cat Adams though, had been the hardest one. She was one to play mind games and she hated to lose. Which she had against him; he’d outsmarted her and she was the one who’d landed in a prison cell.

Of course, being the kind of person she was, she wasn’t going to take that lying down. So, she returned the favor.

He had been determined to help his mother—Diana Reid—who’d been suffering from paranoid schizophrenia all his life, but now had been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s. He was smart, he was sure he could help her, fix her maybe.

There’d been a plethora of drug trials, medicine combinations, diet changes, but nothing helped. So without his teammates—who happened to be the closest friends he had—knowledge, he had been crossing the Mexico border numerous times to get medicine for his mother, one that was definitely not FDA approved.

It was one of these trips that Lindsey—and technically Cat too—had struck. 

She’d dosed him with a spray of scopolamine, pumped him full of cocaine and heroin and murdered the woman he’d been meeting to get the vials of medicine from.

It was bad, really bad. He was the prime suspect in the murder and that is how he ended up in Millburn Correctional Facility pending trial for three months.

Thankfully, the BAU had worked their asses off to clear his name, but in the time spent in prison he had experienced some pretty awful things.

If that hadn’t been bad enough, Cat had orchestrated another evil plan. Lindsey had managed to kidnap his mother.

Less than 12 hours after being released from jail, he was back in another one to face Cat again and play her games. 

She had been executed for her crimes and the additional charges she faced for framing him and kidnapping his mother. He wasn’t the least bit remorseful; if anything, he was glad he’d never have to deal with her again. He dealt with her in his mind enough as is.

Spencer didn’t deal with emotions very well, so it was no surprise to himself that he didn’t stop to process his trauma.

Instead, he found other outlets.

He’d known Y/N for several years but had done an awful job of keeping in touch as the years passed. He’d recently reconnected with her before his arrest and then he’d pulled away again.

He felt bad for never telling her until after the fact, but he’d been embarrassed enough. 

She was a good friend, one who had said she would do anything to help him if and when he needed it.

That’s how the arrangement began. It’d happened once, by accident, but it had helped him forget everything when he needed it the most.

Which is why at 1 a.m. he was headed over to her house, just to forget everything for a while.

Your hips, my hands, you swing and you dance

Yeah, I’m feeling pretty lonely baby 

Just let me in

Just let me in

The door to her apartment opened to reveal her barefoot and in a long, oversized t-shirt.

“Hey,” she greeted him.

He didn’t waste time with the greetings, he kicked the door closed with his foot and grabbed her face, kissing her.

Within minutes he had her pressed up against her door, hands roaming under her shirt as he kissed her hungrily.

He wanted to forget.

Needed to forget.

She moaned into the kiss. Lucky for him, she got horny easily. She was always ready to go at it whenever. Maybe it had something to do with him, although he didn’t know. He never really took the time to dwell on it.

His fingers stroked her bare stomach as his tongue moved against hers. Her hands clutched the bottom of his shirt, pulling away long enough to help him yank it over his head. Her shirt followed suit.

For a while, they stayed there, top halves pressed against one another as their lips moved together in a complicated, yet simple dance. 

They made out for a while, while Spencer forced his brain to empty and focus on her. It finally worked as he felt his crotch tighten, his need for her now more than just something to get him through the night.

She led him back to her bedroom and within minutes was kneeling in front of him, pulling his cock out of his pants.

“You gonna be a good little girl and suck my cock?” he mumbled, looking down at her with lidded eyes.

Normally, he would never fathom talking like this. But something had changed within him in the last six months. He was rougher around the edges, he quite literally didn’t give a fuck anymore. Which proved to be true since he quite literally had a fuck buddy—something the old Spencer wouldn’t even consider.

He cared about her, but like him, she didn’t want anything serious, so he never felt too bad taking advantage of her this way. Weren’t they both using each other anyway?

“Your wish is my command,” she purred, making his cock throb even more.

The moment her mouth touched him, his eyes closed in pure bliss, the feeling chasing the nightmares away.

His hand threaded in her hair, guiding her head as her tongue glided and mouth hollowed out, sucking him like her favorite popsicle. She was amazing at this, he definitely had to give her that.

“Y/N, fuck,” he groaned, his hips bucking up towards her mouth.

Her tongue was his gateway to an anxiety free mind—at least for the time being.

He pushed her away after a few minutes. He wasn’t going to last if she kept that up much longer.

With surprising agility, he’d had her from her knees to bent over the end of the bed in seconds.

Their sessions were far from romantic love making—the type of intimacy he knew she deserved—but more animalistic and frenzied. 

He knew he was selfish and instead of letting her have what she deserved from a man, he held tight to her like she was his lifeline.

In a way, she had become his lifeline. Things got worse the longer he tried to stay away from her. That’s why he always returned.

Her moans and the slap of their bodies were the only sounds heard in the room as he thrust deep into her. Even as fucked up as he was, he had to be an idiot to not admit that sex with her was incredible. She was incredible.

“Spencer, oh my god, fuck.”

Her words came out in a strangled moan as he’d switched up the movements of his hips. Instead of the fast and harsh thrusts, they turned into slow and deeper ones. He may only be her fuck buddy, but he was still gonna be damn sure she got her pleasure out of it too.

His fingers dug into her hips as he tried to erase the images of his earlier nightmare with every thrust. Usually, it worked. Tonight though, he was struggling.

Instead of disappearing, the memories kept flashing through his head like a silent movie on repeat.

The helplessness everyone felt in that prison.

The fear he felt.

The images of a group of white men who pointed a knife in his face his first full night in prison.

Two, sneering and sadistically joyful faces hovering over him as they beat him to a pulp, smothering his face with a rag.

His desperate decision in doing something so awful that it hurt more men than he intended it to.

The constant paranoia.

The fear he had become a monster.

Every single moment inside he’d spent that he had to make choices he’d never fathomed he’d have to—only to survive.

Delgado.

“Switch it up,” he muttered, pulling out of her, turning her around.

His jaw was tense, his body was rigid. All he wanted was one orgasm to erase his nightmare.

Her eyes narrowed, sensing his tension but knowing better than to comment on it.

“Let me take care of you,” she whispered.

She pushed him towards the head of the bed, ordering him to sit against it. He did as he was told, focusing all of his attention on her again.

When she climbed into his lap to straddle him, his breathing had become ragged and he was glad that the stirrings of his arousal were coming back—his sexual attraction to her luring him back in again.

She sank down on him and he exhaled sharply, groaning lowly. The feeling of her tight around him was always like drinking water after being utterly parched.

“You like that?” she purred, her hands resting against his chest, “You like when I take care of you?”

“Very much so,” he growled.

He thread his hand into the back of her hair, pulling her face towards his. He kissed her roughly, his lower half meeting the speed she’d set since she was now the one in charge. Her pelvis grinded against his, giving her even more pleasure, he was sure.

As much as he did this for his benefit, he also had a small sense of pride in knowing he could make her moan and writhe like he did. His hands cupped her breasts, massaging them and she threw her head back with a loud moan. 

He could practically fall apart at that sight alone, but he managed to resist.

His lips attached to her throat, sucking harshly, sure to leave a mark. Their moves were frantic as she gripped the headboard and he bucked relentlessly into her.

They both spiraled into ecstasy, not that far apart from one another.

Sweaty and out of breath, she moved off of him, gathering her clothes and tossing his own to him.

“Want something to eat before you go?”

She asked it so nonchalantly it was as if he hadn’t just spent about half an hour buried to the hilt in her.

“No, thanks though.”

He wasn’t one to stay long after the deed, even though a part of him felt like an ass for it. Y/N didn’t deserve that. But if it ever bothered her, she never let on.

She nodded, watching him as he finished pulling his shirt over his head.

“I’m around, if you need me.”

Spencer gave a nod and headed to the door, grabbing his car keys on his way out.

You’re my heroine, but you’re suicide 

If I let you in you’ll crawl inside 

You save my skin

But you can’t wait to sink in 

My heroine

In a way, Y/N had become his drug.

Whenever things got too hard, he went to her. But lately, it was like every time he fucked her, it only left him needing more.

His PTSD was getting worse, the sex was only distracting him for so long, but he was stubborn. He wasn’t going to give her up anytime soon.

The PTSD was also affecting his work and he knew it.

It’d been six months since his release from prison, but he’d only been reinstated for three months. He worked his ass off to get his position back and he wasn’t about to let his emotions get the best of him.

He was currently trying to focus on the geo profile in front of him, but his vision kept blurring. He rubbed his eye, trying hard to block out everything else but this case.

He was becoming increasingly irritable as well.

It had only been a week since his last visit to Y/N, but he was craving her and her distractions so much. His nightmares hadn’t ceased, he was hardly sleeping and his teammates weren’t oblivious.

They knew he was having a hard time readjusting.

Spencer doubted they knew just how bad it really was though.

The map blurred in front of his eyes again, the sight being replaced with moving pictures, his memories being played before his eyes.

Like the time he was so desperate to survive, he poisoned drugs that he was supposed to move, instead of getting involved with the situation.

He ended up causing several men to get incredibly sick—his guilt over that still haunted him at night.

Prison was an incredibly dangerous place and he had been too good of a person to survive as long as he had.

For a while he’d had two friends; Delgado and Shaw.

One was murdered in front of him.

The other turned out to be using him. Shaw ran the entire prison population. He called the shots and people listened to him. But Spencer wanted no part of that.

Making an enemy of Shaw had been deadly. In fact, it came close to being deadly. Spencer could’ve easily lost his life behind bars.

It had been months since he had been locked up, but the sense of helplessness he felt still haunted him to this day. It smothered him like the sweltering heat on a hot, summer day.

He rubbed his palms into his eyes. He felt like he couldn’t breathe while at the same time his heart rate accelerated. His sense of fight or flight was being triggered and he couldn’t stop the sense of dread that was engulfing his senses.

“Spence, you okay?”

“Yeah, I just need some fresh air,” he answered, brushing past a worried JJ.

The moment he exited the crowded police station and the cool air hit his face, he felt fractionally better, but the anxiety still gripped him.

He gripped his tie, yanking at it and loosening it, so he could breathe. The feel of it around his neck had been making him feel like he was suffocating more so than he already had been.

His therapist had told him panic attacks were normal with PTSD, but he hadn’t had them much. This was an exception apparently.

He leaned against the brick of the building and tried to focus on his breathing to bring his heart rate down. After all he’d endured, he wasn’t about to let a damn panic attack take him down.

His eyes were closed as he tried to calm down, so he didn’t hear Luke approaching.

“Reid.”

He opened his eyes, seeing his teammate Luke Alvez, standing next to him. 

He wondered how he currently looked through Luke’s eyes. A mess, probably. 

Luke didn’t beat around the bush, either.

“Your PTSD has gotten worse, hasn’t it?” he asked, gently.

Spencer shrugged.

“Spencer, if you need to take some time—”

“I don’t need to take time off because I’m fine,” he snapped.

Luke flinched as if Spencer had physically hit him. If anything, he knew that his outburst was just further proof at how not okay he was.

“I need to get back to work,” he mumbled, moving around Luke to head back inside.

He wasn’t sure of anything much lately, but one thing he knew for sure was when they got back from the current case, he was heading straight to Y/N’s apartment.

I feel a little withdrawal baby,

Come pick me up

Took a hit from your level

Now I just can’t get enough 

Your taste, my touch

A little bit of love and a whole lot of lust 

He was back at her door, knocking.

She opened the door, dressed in another oversized t-shirt—due to the late hour of night—and greeted him with a wordless nod. Somehow, he thought she knew that he was having a bad time today.

He looked like shit, that he knew. His hair was a mess of tangled curls, his eyes were bloodshot and deep, dark bags shined brightly under his face, darker than his normal appearance. His cheekbones were more prominent lately as well since he wasn’t eating much, nor was he sleeping well either.

“How do you want me?” she asked.

Her tone was dull and to the point and threw him off guard for a moment. She’d never made it about her, ever. But now, looking at her, he could see her unhappiness. Whether he caused it or not, he was unsure.

This arrangement of theirs had been only to help him forget. Too quickly, it had become like an addiction for him. She was like his drug. He needed her to forget. But maybe, at the same time, she was tired of trying to help him when he couldn’t even help himself.

He promised himself that this would be the last time. Once more and he’d let her go. He’d let her be free of him. She’d be happier anyways.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said.

He tried to be gentle as he pulled her towards him. As he kissed her, he felt her body melt into his. Maybe he had been imagining her mood earlier.

He tried to focus on getting hard, not on all the horrors that constantly swirled in his mind.

His lips moved swiftly with hers in a kiss that was anything but romantic or gentle. It was lust driven and filled with his own desperate need to be distracted.

She knew exactly what to do to get him in the mood, that’s for sure. 

Her teeth tugged at his lower lip gently, her tongue almost the complete opposite of their current actions. It was gentle and hesitant as it met his before continuing its dance with his own.

He pulled her closer, his hand tangled in her hair as he kissed her more roughly, pushing her against the arm of her couch.

In the blink of an eye, he had her turned around and bent over the arm, his hand gliding over the silk material of her underwear. He felt a small swell of pride hearing her moan as he touched her. It also went a long way in helping his own arousal which was now throbbing in his pants.

He was already unbuttoning his pants as he kissed her neck, his hips pressing into hers. The more he got into it, the more he actually felt that he wanted this—that he wanted her.

With one smooth movement, he had her underwear pulled down to her thighs and he entered her with a groan.

But he couldn’t focus. 

Somehow, without him realizing it, the memories had slipped through a crack in his mind.

Instead of being there with Y/N, he was back in that cell.

The countless hours sitting in a cell, trying to remember something he never did.

The desperation, the helplessness in that place.

Familiar faces he dealt with sped across his mind.

Malcolm, Shaw, Delgado, Wilkins. Frazier, Duerson, the two men who gave him a beating meant for Delgado.

The fear he felt in those final days when he had no one to trust, when he had to stab himself in the leg to get into solitary confinement, just to stay alive.

The horrible memories were flashing in his head at the speed of lightning.

“Ow! Spencer, you’re hurting me.”

Spencer snapped back to the present, realizing his fingers were creating bruises on Y/N’s hips from his too tight grip.

“This isn’t working,” he said in way of an apology, pulling out of her.

He was already going soft anyway, the previous arousal now completely gone and replaced by his racing thoughts and memories.

“It’s fine,” she muttered, pulling down her t-shirt and pulling up her underwear.

He had just zipped up his suit pants—he’d come straight from the jet—when she spoke again.

“Actually, no. It’s not okay.”

Spencer blinked in surprise at her harsh tone. He didn’t think he’d ever heard her raise her voice.

“I’m sick of this Spencer! I know we started this a while ago for...reasons,” she flapped her hand in midair as if demonstrating all the unsaid things between them.

“But I can’t do it anymore. I care about you Spencer. Honestly right now I don’t know if it’s as more than a friend or just as a friend but that’s another can of worms to open another time. You can’t keep doing this! You can’t keep coming to me and fucking me to try and rid your demons. You’ve been through a hell of a lot and you didn’t deserve any of it, but I’m not going to stand her and watch my friend destroy himself because he refuses to get the help he so desperately needs.”

Spencer stood, frozen in place, mouth agape. It was then he saw tears shining in her eyes.

“We have a lot to sort out between us, eventually, but you need to help yourself first,” she whispered, as if feeling defeated by her previous outburst.

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what he could say.

“I know facing everything, processing it all is a scary feeling, Spencer. Even if you tried reaching out to a friend to talk through it, that would be a big step. I just...I just want you to get better.”

A single tear slid down her cheek and he did the worst possible thing to do.

He fled her apartment like the coward he was.

•

He didn’t go home. 

Instead, he walked around the city as the daylight receded and the sun slipped behind the horizon, saying goodnight to the world until the next day.

He spent a lot of time thinking.

He ended up dashing into a busy diner he came across as the night sky opened up and rain began falling in sheets.

He sat in his booth, absentmindedly sipping on the cup of coffee he’d ordered and watched the rain fall in the darkness outside.

In an ironic way, the weather outside was similar to the turmoil he felt inside. 

Just like the completely blackened sky outside, he felt just as dark and empty. The storm was similar to the storm of emotions, memories, traumas he continually tried to squash, all in the wrong ways.

He knew ignoring his problems wouldn’t make them go away; he also knew using sex as a distraction was the worst possible thing to do as well, yet he’d continued to do it and he’d hurt more than just himself in the process.

He’d hurt his friends, who’d only wanted to help, but pushed them away. He’d hurt Y/N, who didn’t deserve to be treated like a plaything, yet he kept coming back, making things worse.

By the time he’d finished his coffee, he decided what he wanted to do. What he knew he needed to do.

I’m feeling pretty lonely baby,

So just let me in

Just let me in 

He’d ran through the pouring rain. He didn’t even bother to try to take any transportation. The rain felt like it was washing him clean from the horrors of the last year.

He was back at her door, but this time, for a different reason. 

He was soaking wet and felt a lot like a dog with his tail between his legs, but he refused to chicken out once again. So, he knocked.

She answered, this time in actual pajamas rather than the attire she was in hours before.

Maybe it was the expression he wore or something she saw in his face because she didn’t immediately slam the door in his face—something he knew he deserved. She stood patiently, almost questioningly, waiting for him to speak first.

He took a deep breath before speaking the words he should’ve uttered months ago.

“I’m ready to talk. I’m ready to get the help I need.”

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[cassiabaggins]

Athelas

A/N: lets get this Kiliel week started! All these stories are canon with my Extra Burglar timeline and occur following the Battle of Five Armies. I hope you enjoy, and please like, reblog, and leave a comment if you do! Also check out my Masterlist or AO3 for the rest of my works!beating! Also a special thanks to my betas, @anjhope1 and @deathlikessodaandpizza

Warnings: mention of major character death

Word count: 3552

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Taglist: @anjhope1 @deathlikessodaandpizza  @lonikje  @myrin1234 @wettomatodude @lothloriien @annkdarar @artsywaterlily @hmmm-what-am-i-doing  @drowingintheempty  @kilielweek @estethell

Summary: Kili is grievously wounded in the Battle of the Five Armies and Tauriel is the only person who can keep him alive, but her presence is less than welcomed by many of the dwarves

To his credit, Kili is not the most difficult patient Tauriel has ever had. Granted, he does little but sleep for the first few weeks, and his care is only left to her because the dwarven healers have long since realized that they have no idea how to keep him alive, and the elven ones are too preoccupied with their own kind. 

Sleep though he may, it is not a consistent one, and Kili fades to almost wakefulness several times, enough so she can feed him thin broth, mixed with crushed athelas, to replenish his strength and numb the pain. At first, she isn't positive even athelas will help him, but he seems to rest easier when he takes it, even if it is only a few sips. She battles against the possibility of infection and his own mortality and wishes, not for the first time, she had pursued healing with more vigor. She has enough knowledge to bind a wound in battle and keep a comrade alive until the real healers arrive, but knows next to nothing about nursing a dwarf back from the brink of death, so in what little free time she has, she lurks near the healer’s tents, learning what she can to help him. A far cry from her younger self, who would have chafed at the idea of sitting still and listening, but now, she has a reason to.

As Tauriel continues to tend to the wounded dwarf, she notices something quite strange:  Kili gets few visitors. Tauriel wonders if that is because he has few friends, or if it is because his brother, the king, has forbidden it. She suspects the latter. The reason for this belief is because just days after the battle, while Kili is still hovering between life and death, a healer from the Iron Hills comes to check on him. She takes one look at Kili's wound and her eyes widen. Then she glances suspiciously at Tauriel and whispers something to Fili, that she knows she isn't supposed to catch.

"He should be dead," the healer says. "Your Majesty, your brother should not be alive. I am sorry, but I fear this is not him but an elvish trick, seeking to gain your trust and usurp your throne." Fili does not like that, and the dwarf is sent from the tent with a voice trembling with anger.

The brother in question sits with Kili whenever he can spare a moment, holding his hand or braiding his hair and talking to him, but there are not many moments to be had. The halflings visit more often, but they must begin their long journey home before the winter becomes too harsh. So, usually, it is just Tauriel sitting with Kili for such a long amount of time, that her younger self would be both annoyed and impressed with her commitment to the dwarf. However, there is only so much sitting still she can stand and restlessness has her pacing and singing and itching for activity. But she cannot leave him. She will not. He needs her. 

Finally, on the seventeenth day, Kili awakens enough to speak. As he slowly fades into consciousness, he realizes he has been awoken by an argument between Fili, his tone heavy with annoyance and anger, and another voice, one he doesn’t know. 

“...an elf taking care of the prince of Erebor?” The stranger is saying. “It’s unheard of!”

“She saved his life!” Fili snaps back. “As far as I am concerned, that means she can stay as long as needed!”

“Your subjects are already questioning your ability to rule, lad, don’t give them any more reason to doubt you.”

Kili can hear his brother’s voice shaking with anger. “I am fine with whatever they think of me, if it is to ensure my brother’s full recovery. And it is Your Majesty to you, not lad.”

Kili can’t help the soft laugh that escapes him. Fili sounds like Thorin when he does that, all pomp and pride. The argument stops and he senses someone moving close to him.

“Kili?” Fili asks, placing his hand on his forehead. It is warm and comforting. “How are you feeling?”

“I’d feel better if you all quieted down and let me sleep,” Kili mumbles.

“Aye,” his older brother says, stroking his bangs off his forehead. “I’ll take this outside. You get some sleep.”

“Where’s Tauriel?” Kili finds himself asking. He’s a little afraid he just dreamed her presence, that she has already left and returned home. 

“I am here,” her soft voice murmurs, and his heart leaps.

Kili cracks his eyes open to see her and his brother leaning over him, both of their foreheads drawn with concern. "You're missing an eye," Kili finds himself saying to his brother, who gives him a dry look.

"I am aware."

Kili loses interest in Fili's bandaged face and looks over at Tauriel, a much lovelier sight. He smiles. 

“Amrâlimê,” he mumbles, drinking in the sight of her. Fili’s one visible eyebrow shoots up in surprise, so high Kili wants to laugh again, but that hurts too much. Tauriel’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. 

“I’m sorry, Kili, I don’t know what that means,” she whispers. 

“Yes, you do,” he replies, sliding his eyes shut again. He reaches out with the hand nearest to her, searching for her cool skin. 

“Kili,” Fili hisses, “you can’t just--”

Of course he’d protest. Kili twists up his face, suspecting his brother is more concerned with the use of Khuzdul around non-dwarrow than the fact he just confessed his love for an elf in front of two witnesses. “You’re making my head pound, nadad,” he says pettily, knowing that will shut Fili down, and it does. He subsides with some minor grumbling under his breath about Kili defeating the whole point of a secret language with a display like that.

“Get some more rest, Kili,” he says, “When you feel a bit better, we can bring you into the Mountain. I have a room set up for you already.”

“Can Tauriel come?” Kili asks, suddenly terrified his brother will tell her to leave. He reaches out for her again, making a slight grabbing motion with his fingers, but she does not weave her fingers with his like she had before. Fili sighs. 

“Yes, she will come, too. She’s the one keeping you alive, after all.”

“Good.”

The stranger, whoever they are, starts to protest, but Fili says, “enough. Khar, we will finish this outside. Come with me.”

Khar. The name sounds familiar. Kili believes Thorin had a few meetings with a Lord Khar back in Ered Luin, and he had a vague memory of a dwarf with a red beard and brown eyes. Kili hadn’t liked him then, and he certainly doesn’t like him now. He reaches again for Tauriel’s hand. She’s so quiet, he’s suddenly afraid she’s disappeared. The third time turns out to be the charm, and perhaps the others have left, because her cool, slim hand suddenly slips into his. 

Kili smiles. “Tauriel,” he breathes. 

“Kili,” she replies, “your brother is right. Try to sleep. It will help you heal.”

“Can you sing to me?” 

She is silent for a while. He opens one eye to peek at her, a little worried that  asking for a lullaby is a bit more intimate in her culture. However, when their eyes meet, she is looking at him with surprise. He frowns a little, and then she lets out a breath, closing her eyes, a smile playing around her lips. “Yes, I will sing to you.” 

And she does.

.

On the twenty seventh day, Tauriel deems him well enough to be moved into Erebor. They lay him on a pallet in a cart drawn by rams, and despite all the cautions taken, it turns out to be one of the most excruciating experiences Kili has ever undergone. His whole body is pure fire, radiating out from his wound, and every jolt of the cart is a lightning strike of pain lancing through him. He bites back the groans he wants to let out, and squeezes tight to Tauriel’s hand. At least three times the pain becomes too unbearable, and he faints, but each time when he comes to, her hand is still holding his. 

The final time he passes out must be for quite a while, because when he loses consciousness, they are just approaching the mountain, and when he wakes, he is tucked up in a nice, warm, comfortable dwarven bed, leagues better than the thin cot he had been lying on in the healing tents on the battlefield. It's warmer, too, a fire crackling merrily in the hearth at the foot of his bed, and blissfully free of that post war scent of blood and mud and rotting corpses. Kili rather thought it had gone away in those last few days, but apparently he had just gotten used to it, because the smells of this room— herbs and stone and smoke and dust— are like the finest perfumes in all of Middle Earth, even with the faint lingering trace of dragon hanging about the place. He takes a deep breath in through the nose. Aye. Besides the dragon, it smells dwarven. It smells like home. But even the homey smells can’t drive away the pain encompassing his body, and he lets the deep breath out in a rush accompanied by a pained groan.

He doesn’t really notice he’s alone until a door to his left swings open and Tauriel steps through. She looks fresh faced and clean, her hair braided back, a few strands hanging free, and she’s changed clothes as well, to a loose blue tunic that looks suspiciously dwarven, and brown trousers. Kili decides he likes trousers on a lass... and the shape of her legs. She’s carrying a tray with a teapot and mug, and smiles when she sees that he is awake.

“Good evening,” she says, setting the tray on the bedside table. “You slept for a whole day.” She picks up the teapot and pours some of the contents into the mug. “How are you feeling? In pain?”

He manages a weak nod, but that hurts, too. 

"I thought so. Here. Drink this," she says. Kili peers suspiciously at the steaming cup she holds toward him. He thinks it may be medicine, but unlike the dwarven tonics he's used to, it doesn't smell awful. It smells like a combination of mint, earth, and something floral, but he doesn't know the scent, so he is suspicious. He hurts too much to move or speak, but the doubtful look he shoots her is enough. She sits down on his bedside, frowning. "It is merely an infusion of athelas, Kili. It will dull your pain. If I wanted to poison you I would have done it long ago."

That wasn't what he was worried about, but he doesn't have the energy to point that out. He sighs and opens his mouth a bit, and she helps him drink. It is hot, but not burning, and warms him right down to his toes. It would even taste like a normal tea, if not for the faint bitter aftertaste. Slowly, the radiating pain from his chest begins to dull and his muscles relax, and he thinks he might be able to sleep. Actually sleep, not pass out.

"Thank you," Tauriel says, setting the mug aside. "I am going to give you a sponge bath and change your bandages, and then you can try to rest, unless you would like to try eating. How does that sound?"

"You sure you don' jus' wanna see me naked?" He finds himself mumbling with a smirk. She scoffs. 

"You are hardly an appealing picture at the moment, laying here, barely alive, half drunk from pain."

Kili chuckles, but it turns into a hiss as his movement jars his wound and pain shoots through his body. "Everything hurts," he moans.

Tauriel tenderly touches his cheek in comfort. "I know. Give the athelas a moment to work."

He nods weakly and she stands up.

"Where are you—"

"I am merely fetching soap, hot water, and fresh bandages," she replies soothingly before leaving the room.

Before long she returns with a large bowl of steaming water, several rags, soap, and some warm fluffy towels. Slowly, she places the objects down next to him and it dawns on him as she soaks the soft towels in the warm water that she was about to wash him. Suddenly, Kili squirms and shies away from her.

“I don’t know how I feel about this,” he mumbles.

“About what?” She asks without looking up from her task, absently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. 

“About you seeing me naked,” he whispers, looking anywhere but at her.

Tauriel stops and stares at him for a while and he can feel his cheeks tingling with a blush. “I have seen you naked before,” she says blithely.

Kili’s head shoots up in dismay. “What?! When?!”

She sighs. “Who do you think has been bathing you and changing your bandages for the past month?”

Now it is his turn to stare at her. He hadn’t thought of that. Tauriel touches his shoulder sympathetically. 

“If it makes you uncomfortable, we don’t have to wash between the waist and the knees.”

In the end, that is what they settle on. While she bathes him, she is careful and gentle, but thorough. Just as quick as it begins she is taking away the bathing materials and returning with fresh bandages and a small pot of something.

“I have to change your bandages,” she says apologetically. “This will be… painful.”

“What’s in the jar?” he asks.

"An ointment that will prevent infection and reduce your pain. It's mostly echinacea, chamomile, and athelas, mixed with a lard base."

"You sure like that athelas stuff. What is it, anyway?"

"Some call it kingsfoil," she says, opening the container and checking the contents. She tilts it so he can see a greenish brown paste inside. "See? I'll spread this over your wound. It shall help it heal, with the right incantations."

"Isn't kingsfoil a weed? I've been told that it's a weed."

"It is often seen as a weed, but truly it is a healing herb, though the knowledge of how to use it has been mostly lost to mortals. I've used it on you before, when you were shot by the orcish arrow."

"Oh. I don't remember that."

"I don't find that surprising, you were quite delirious."

Kili feels cold air on his chest and suddenly realizes that Tauriel has been carefully untying his bandages. He looks down and is quite shocked at the sight of his wound. This is the first time he's seen it, an ugly, puckered gash stitched closed with thick black thread. 

"Well," he says shakily, "that will leave a scar."

Tauriel doesn't laugh at his joke, too preoccupied with assessing the wound. "Soon I'll be able to take these stitches out, but not yet." She looks up at him. "I am going to clean it now. Are you ready?"

He gives her a lopsided smile. "Aye. I'm a grown dwarf, I won't cry."

.

In the end, a few silent  tears do manage to squeeze themselves out of his eyes. After her treatment, she lays him back and feeds him medicine that not only numbs the pain but also causes him some drowsiness and he falls asleep once more until she wakes him to feed him. From there, this same routine continues,  with a few minor changes with Company members visiting him when they can, but for the most part, it is just him and Tauriel. 

.

As more members of the Company come by, Tauriel better acquaints herself with them. However, as kind as they are to her, she is no fool. She knows the distrust (and in some cases, hatred) the other Dwarves of the mountain have toward her. They only keep her around due to Kili’s steadily improving condition. But before long, he will not need her anymore. He will be at a point in his recovery where the dwarven healers will be able to manage just fine and the dwarves will tolerate her no longer. She must leave before it all comes to a head and something terrible happens.

.

She begins to prepare travelling supplies: food, drink, and clothing, a map as well, as she makes her plans. Plans she tells no one of; she intends to slip away, unnoticed, into the night. They will not follow her and she knows she will not be missed. They just want her out of the mountain. She plans her route carefully; choosing to slip out in between the changing of the guard and taking a discrete route south. She calculates how many days she can ration out her lembas on foot versus on horseback or by boat, how long she can walk without sleep, how long her tinderbox can last, everything is carefully planned. However, what she did not plan for, is Kili. 

On the winter night that she executes her plan, she doesn't notice that Kill awakens as she creeps about the room, watching shrewdly as she gathers her belongings and crosses the room to her exit. But before she has the chance to even reach for the doorknob, he breaks his silence. 

"You're leaving," he whispers accusingly. 

Tauriel closes her eyes and sighs. “Kili,” she says softly, not looking at him.

“I’m not stupid, you know,” he says, “I’ve snuck out enough times in my life to recognize when someone is doing just that.” Tauriel's shoulders slump. She opens her eyes and looks up at the ceiling, studying the gold flecked green stone, but she still does not turn and look at him.

“Please don’t be angry with me.”

“I’m not angry! ” he huffs, clearly angry. Finally, she turns and raises an eyebrow at him, meeting his glare. "You’re just going to leave me, without so much as a goodbye?!” he continues, his eyes blazing with passion. 

 “Kili, surely you know of the strife my presence is causing,” she replies, “I know you aren’t blind to what is going on in the Mountain.”

“Of course I know!” He explodes, punching the mattress beside his thigh, “I'm not stupid! But you can’t just go!” Tauriel rather gets the impression that he’s hiding his sadness and betrayal behind anger, and if she didn’t know better, she'd think he was begging. But that’s ridiculous. Dwarves are proud. They do not beg. Silently, Tauriel moves away from the door and toward the bed, as graceful as water, and looks down at him. 

“And why is that?”

“Because then they win!” He shouts, gesturing wildly outward, as if to indicate the entire mountain and every dwarf within it. Immediately afterward, he seems to feel guilty for raising his voice, and drops his arms, looking down and away and picking at his blankets. Tauriel takes the opportunity to sit down on the bed beside him, contemplating his words. 

“Kili,” she says finally, after what seems like an age, “I wish it was that simple.”

“It can be,” he murmurs, turning back to look at her, his hand catching hers where it rests on the blanket. “Tauriel, amrâlimê...”

She looks down at their joined hands and something alien wells up within her. Is it love? Is it fear? She doesn’t know. 

“Stay with me,” he says, gripping her fingers. “Please.”

She looks up at him. He’s giving her the same pleading look he gave her on the lakeshore, conveying all his emotions in his gaze: love and determination and desperation...

“I can’t,” she whispers. 

His face crumples and he moves his hand off hers with a heavy sigh. “I know,” he replies. Because he does. Despite how desperately he wants it, he knows that at this point in time, what they have, or at least what they want to have, is impossible. He looks away so he doesn’t have to see her leave. The mattress shifts as she stands, and he listens to her footsteps begin to move away from him. Then, they pause. 

“I have something of yours,” she says. He looks up to see her reaching into her bodice. He frowns, confused, until she draws out her hand and holds it open to him. His runestone rests on her palm. She kept it? She still has it? “This belongs to you.”

“No,” he replies, staring listlessly at the stone.  “It’s yours. It was a gift.” 

She stands in silence for a moment, then her fingers close over it and she returns it back to where she had it, smoothing her shirt down over it. “Thank you.” She says after a while. He nods, looking down again. 

She moves again to leave, he hears rustling as she shoulders her pack, and the door creaks open. 

“Where will you go?” he calls after her. She turns to look at him, framed by the door. 

“I’ve always wanted to see the sea,” she replies. 

He nods. “Ah.”

She gives him a smile, but he doesn’t have the strength to return it, and her face falls. “Perhaps I will see you again someday,” she tells him, and is gone before he can reply. 

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Snow King of yandere ghaccio vs bruno?

Ghaccio is the perfect ice King!!!

This took me a while and this will be multi chapter considering all the stuff that happens in the original story.

Cold as ice pt 1

(Female reader X Bruno and Yandere ghaccio)

You sat under the canopy of roses as you waited for Bruno to come back from his work on a fishing ship. You hadn’t seen him since mid summer. As the first snowflakes of winter gently drifted in the air you remembered how you’d both stay at eachothers house and huddle up near the fireplace as children.

As your mind drifted off you remember a pair of jet black eyes you saw through the frost covered windows when you were younger and the mysterious piece of a mirror and how it made everything seem so worn and ugly. You kept that shard in a little box where every now and then you would inspect it to try and figure out what it really was.

You let out a frosty sigh as you wait for your childhood friend to return home. Your heart pounded as you remembered his lush ebony locks, his deep blue eyes, his sweet voice and warm smile. You held these longing feelings of love towards him inside of your heart but you dreaded to confess those affections to him, you didn’t want to ruin the nearly fifteen years of friendship in your selfish pursuit for something more.

Then you jumped out of your seat as you saw the familiar ravenette view. You stood up before sprinting towards him and wrapping your arms around him. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you looked into his sapphire eyes, his heartwarming smile made you melt in his arms as they wrapped around you.

“I missed you so much Bruno” you exclaimed as you squeezed him tighter.

“I missed you too (Y/n), all I could think about was you the whole time” he replied as he closed his eyes and held you in his embrace. You felt your body heat up as a blush grew on your face, surely he was just trying to be nice but to believe you had been on his mind made you a melting mess in winter.

You two finally separated from your long hug and entered his home where his sickly father was sitting on the lounge waiting. He’d been in this state for a year but his health was slowly improving under your care.

“Padre, how have you been? I hope you haven’t hassled dear (Y/n) too much while I was away?” Bruno asked in the sweetest voice as he pulled his father into his tight grip.

“I’ve been fine and no I’m sure I haven’t hassled the girl too much” he replied with a chuckle.

“So how was the crew? Was the boat?” his father asked him, wondering if it was still the same as he remembered.

“Oh it was great but I’d rather tell all my stories over a warm dinner” he stated.

“Speaking of which, do you need a hand with cooking?” he asked.

“Well I’m considering whether to make soup or a casserole, either way I need some vegetables cut up while I make the base” you replied as you put your hand on your chin. You walk into the kitchen and he follows. As you grab the left over fat from the other night he grabs out the vegetables from the pantry. He carefully chopped an onion but couldn’t help turning his head to look back at you. He just thought about how much he loved you, such a strong pain in his chest as he thought about a future with you, he just couldn’t keep these feelings to himself. Tomorrow he had to confess to you as he knew that it was his only chance to speak the silence he had been holding for so long.

During dinner Bruno shared his tales of his time at sea. like a child you were so fascinated by all his words and asked so many questions of the many places he’d been, so much so that you had even forgotten your bowl of stew as it went cold. He spoke of places where it alway raining down fresh snow or lands where the sun always saturated the land. He told you of the fascinating creatures he had seen. He went on and on with no indication of stopping but you had no problem with it.

Even after dinner he showed you a journal that he had written so many things inside. The most Interesting were the notes he had on the various forien myths and he had learned from the places he’d been. You read them outloud with him as it reminded you both when your grandmother would tell you stories on cold winter nights much like tonight.

Bruno smiled when he caught you sleeping against you. As a child you would be the one to continue to wake him up in the childish pursuits until you eventually passed out, Ironic how you were the one asleep on him now.

He picked you up and pulled back his fresh bed sheets before laying you down on his bed and taking your shoes off. After that he tucked you in, he’d sleep on the lounge. Sure there was enough room to allow himself to comfortably sleep beside you but you two weren’t children anymore and the whole idea of what it ment was changed in your adult minds. Even if intentions were pure.

💐💐💐

You rubbed your eyes as the first rays of sunlight flooded into the room, you groaned as you turned away from the window, you opened your eyes slightly about to close them again before you saw a note on the bedside table. You sat yourself up and slowly allowed yourself to wake up. You stretch out your body before grabbing the note and unfolding it to see Bruno’s handwriting. The note was very vague, only really mentioning to meet him at the town gazebo in the afternoon.

As you set about getting up and going through your everyday tasks, Bruno was set on making his confession to you the most meaningful way he could. He clenched the small box in his hand, wondering if the ring he had brought In his journey would be enough for you. His thought took over him, he was nervous to confess his feelings to you after all these years.

As he walked through the town markets he noticed the most beautiful bouquet of peachy coloured roses he'd seen. He then looked at the old lady who ran the stall. She looked so humble and kind as she gave him a tender smile.

"I see you have your eye's on my roses" she said in her sweet voice.

"I didn't think a rose like this would bloom in the start of winter, where did you get them?" He asked her with curiosity.

"Well young man, I grow Them all myself in my garden… with enough care the flowers will bloom at any time of year" she said followed by a light chuckle.

Bruno looked at the price tag and considered if it was worth it before giving the old lady his money.

"Thank you so much" she thanked as he took the bouquet and opened the box. He took out the ring and put the box in his pocket before slipping the ring over one of the unopened buds.

💐💐💐

As the afternoon approached the temperature dropped and the snow slowly drifted in the air. You covered yourself in a warm coat as you left the house. You walked along the snow covered path as you wondered why Bruno wanted to meet you at the gazebo in town of all places, for a small moment your heart fluttered at the thought of a confession but you quickly composed yourself and dismissed the thought.

Today seemed all too wonderful as you looked up at the cloudy sky before a sharp pain jabbed in your eye and then in your very heart. You rubbed your eye to rid the pain but there was no use.

When you finally managed to open your eyes the world had changed, everything was run down. Buildings were crumbled and the gardens around them were wilted and withered. You didn't recognise this place at all.

You walked some more to see what was barely considered a town. You sat on one of the benches and wondered what happened. You had no sense of fear but rather you wanted an explanation of what was going on. As you were thinking someone approached you. A man with matted black hair and the most sunken features against a pastie face, he smiled at you with crooked teeth. He was ugly, what made him think he had the right to talk to you.

"What's the matter (Y/n)?" he asked with such a familiar voice. You simply tried to ignore him but he became ever insistent to have your attention.

"I need to tell you something" he eventually said in which you responded with a simple what as you looked at him once more.

"I've been keeping this bottled up for so many years, I want to tell you that I want to be more than friends… I love you more than anyone else" he confessed as he revealed a bunch of long dead roses.

Something boiled in, it wasn't anger but some strange feeling that began to control you. You finally stood up and slapped the roses out of his hands before yelling at him.

"Who do you think you are?! Coming up to me and annoying me like this, only to confess that you have feelings with some horrid flowers! You disgust me and I never want to see you in my life ever again!" The words seemed to have rolled off your tongue with little thought before you ran away to the forest ahead.

Bruno watched as you did with a stabbing pain in his heart. Tears threatened to form and he fell to his knees to see the beautiful roses on the ground. Many of the petals scattered by the force of the slap and the precious gem on the ring had a large crack through it. He'd never heard you speak so harshly and wondered if that was how you truly felt about him.

He walked home with a low head and broken heart. When he arrived he sat by the fireplace and looked at it while trapped in deep thoughts.

"What's the matter Bruno?" His father asked. Bruno didn't respond.

"It's ok, you can tell me anything son" he continued and again he got no response.

"I'm sorry for bothering you, I'm just worried about you… you never are gloomy like this" he said before Bruno finally replied.

"I confessed that I was in love with (Y/n) but see yelled about how I was an annoyance and that I disgust her before running away… I've been thinking about it and I just don't understand what happened" he said. His father held his hand in his chin.

"Well I can't believe she would say such things, I always had the impression that she did love you… I think something is wrong" he mentioned. Bruno felt a light ping in his heart as his father talked, it was indeed very unlike you. A bad feeling in his gut maybe something had happened to you, you could be in danger right now.

He stood up and headed for the door.

"I'm going to find (Y/n), I have a bad feeling something's going to happen to her" he said as he left. Ignoring his father's pled for him to come back inside before the storm began.

[pinksra]

Stars Above

Summary: Paz gets jealous and takes his frustrations out on you.

Warnings: smut

A/N: This is definitely something fueled strictly by a three day binge into Mandalorian fanfiction and touch-starvation :) Pls forgive me for the PG smut (which sounds like a paradox but I could do so much more)

You gasped as the man ran his hot tongue down your neck, his body pressing up against yours in the small alcove. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your hands fisting in his hair and tugging slightly. He let out a groan that rumbled against your skin, sending warmth directly to your core. His hand moved down from its spot at your collarbone and stopped to squeeze your hip before lowering down to your thigh and hitching it up over your hip. The position allowed for him to step closer, the bulge in his pants making direct contact with your core. You let out an involuntary moan, arching your back to give him more access. If you had bothered to learn his name, you would have immediately forgotten it as your mind went blank, no room for anything except for the pleasure.

A throat cleared from across the room and your eyes fluttered open. You could clearly see the two mandalorians over the shoulder of the man. They both had their arms crossed over their broad chests, but one seemed more amused while the other seemed positively livid. You grinned at them, but was immediately distracted as the man pulled your other leg up around his waist, leaving you suspended in the air. You couldn’t help but gasp slightly as his hand reached up to thumb over your nipple.

You leaned forward to kiss the man, but he suddenly pulled away completely. You gasped as you hit the floor, your eyes opening in dazed confusion. Towering over you was an armored figure, the man’s neck grasped in his fist.

“Paz!” You gasped out, scrambling to your feet. “Let him go!”

He did as you said, the man dropping to the floor in a breathless heap. You shot a glare towards the furious mandalorian before leaning down to help the man up. Before you could make contact, a gloved hand grabbed you by your arm and dragged you away, leaving the man behind.

“Paz!” You screeched, smacking uselessly at his shoulder pad. “What in the stars do you think you’re doing!”

It wasn’t a question and he knew it, but it was enough for him to pull you to a stop and glare down at you.

“Are you drunk?” He asked, his voice a mixture of disbelief and fury.

You were, but you didn’t like the way he had phrased it and refused to respond. He growled and started to drag you forward again, brushing past his amused friend. Din followed behind the two of us, ignoring your pleading look. Paz finally pulled you out of the bar and the fresh air was like a slap in the face, sobering you a little bit. You stopped fighting and walked alongside the large man next to you. In return he loosened his grip a little bit. It wasn’t until you were aboard the Razor Crest that he said anything else.

“What were you thinking?” He demanded, his voice soft steel. Din took one look at the both of us and grabbed the child before making his way to the cockpit. After the door closed behind him, it was pure silence.

You were still very intoxicated. In fact, you hadn’t thought you had had that much to drink until you were faced with Paz and feeling extremely dizzy. You stared up at his visor, thankful you couldn’t see your own reflection in his helmet like you could Din’s.

“You’re extremely tall.” You told him, reaching out to steady yourself against the wall as you stumbled a little bit.

Paz sighed and leaned forward to grab your arm to lead you to your cot. He was very tense, so you knew he was still very angry with you. The problem was, it was his fault you were even like this to begin with, but you would never let him know that.

Din had let everyone have the night off to enjoy themselves. While you had fully intended on spending more time with Paz (who you had been interested in since the moment he set a foot in your shop on Naboo), Paz seemed more interested in the girl who had immediately latched herself on him when we all arrived at the cantina. So, you drank. And drank. And drank some more until the man who was hitting on you suddenly seemed a bit more attractive than before. You hadn’t protested when he tugged you towards the alcove.

Now, as Paz laid you down on your cot and tugged a blanket up over your shoulder, you regretted it. You realized you had only wanted his attention tonight and now that you were getting it, you hated the way it started.

“Paz…” You murmured, snuggling into the blanket further and yawning a little bit.

He grunted and you knew he was waiting for you to continue.

“Don’t be mad at me.” Your eyes were slowly closing against your will and the words came out slurred. Between the lack of sleep you had gotten the past week as the two mandalorians were hunting their latest quarry and the amount of drinks you had at the cantina, you were about ready to pass out.

“You were very stupid tonight.” He finally said after a pause, his voice coming out strained.

Your anger flared again, opening your eyes as wide as you can to glare at him. He stared down at you and you could basically feel the look of condescension that had to be on his face.

“I am not a child.” You snapped, “I can choose for myself what I want to do on my night off and you have no right to judge me for it.” You paused, trying to hold back your next words, but the alcohol overrode your tongue and you ended up blurting out, “Besides, it’s not like you weren’t enjoying yourself in a similar manner.”

You almost cringed at how jealous that sounded, but you ignored it, turning on your side to face away from him. Paz seemed to want to say something, but he stayed as silent as ever and left you to your thoughts.

You heard him climb up into the cockpit to join Din, their voices slowly mingling together in soothing white noise. You fell asleep to thoughts of a mandalorian in blue beskar.

**

When you woke up the hull was pitch black and the only sound was from someone rustling in the cockpit. Your mouth felt dry and muggy, so you climbed off your cot, making your way to the refresher to clean up. One look in the mirror had you grimacing. Your hair was a mess, your lips swollen, and your eyes dazed. Along one cheek was crease marks from your blanket.

“Stars.” You cursed, reaching up to rub your eyes in exhaustion. No wonder Paz had been so frustrated with your messy ass last night.

After a couple minutes (maybe a little more than a couple), you finally stepped out. You could see a figure across the hull from the light of the refresher, but couldn’t tell who it was. You could also hear little snores coming from the baby’s pram, making you smile. You did love the little thing, no matter how troublesome he could be.

Wide awake, you make your way up the ladder leading to the cockpit. Once inside you make your way to the co-pilot's chair, which you had claimed as yours as soon as you were invited to join the three of them on their travels. You paused for a moment when you realized it was Paz in the pilots seat. Even though you hadn’t been able to tell who it was sleeping in the hull, you had automatically assumed it had been Paz. Din was often awake late into the night making sure the ship was safe.

You sat down when Paz didn’t acknowledge your presence. The alcohol had left your system and you were sober enough to be embarrassed about your behavior last night. However, he was completely silent, as if you weren’t even there, and you took your cues from him. Instead, you looked up and out of the ship, watching as the stars raced by you in hyperspeed. It was a sight you never thought you’d get used to.

You had been born and raised on Naboo. Never left it, either. Stars, you had never even been in a ship until Din and Paz swept you away. In fact, you weren’t even sure why they had taken you with them when they moved on to the next planet. Maybe it was because the kid had taken a liking to you. Maybe it was because you had basic knowledge of healing (but that was often obsolete now because bacta pretty much healed any injury or ailment). No matter what the reason, you were glad they did.

Since beginning your journey with the two mandalorians and the child, you have been on more planets than you could have ever dreamed up, met more people of such different cultures than yours. And, you had become a part of the best little family in the galaxy.

Sitting in the co-pilot’s chair of a ship in the middle of hyperspeed, next to the man you have admittedly been attracted to since the moment you met him (stars, how weird was that? You hadn’t even seen his face), you couldn’t help but be grateful for everything that had led to this moment.

You looked over at Paz, who had still not acknowledged your presence and, suddenly, could no longer bear the silence.

“Are you still mad?” You asked finally.

His helmet turned in your direction, but he still wouldn’t look or talk to you. Frustration and hurt rose in you. You couldn’t understand what you had done that had pissed him off so much. You stood up and moved around to stand directly in front of him. It had been a squeeze, there wasn’t much room to stand in between him and the controls, but you made it work.

“Paz.”

He stubbornly refused to meet your eyes for a minute more, staring at your stomach instead.

“Paz.”

He finally looked up at your face. You felt, rather than saw, his eyes roving over your features. You grew red under his inspection, but held your ground. Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed your hips, pulling until you fell forward. You gasped, reaching out to grab his shoulders to steady yourself. He reached down and grabbed your thighs, curling them around his hips so you were straddling him.

You gasped at the sudden closeness. Stars, this man was huge. Even sitting on his lap, you were just barely face-to-face. Your breath hitched as he trailed his hands from the back of your knees, to the tops of your thighs, his thumbs brushing back and forth. Warmth spread throughout your body, pooling at the apex of your thighs.

“Paz?” You asked, ashamed of how unsteady your voice was.

“You don’t want me to be mad?” He demanded. His hands trailed up your back, finding their way under your shirt. You arched against their cold presence that spread such heat across your skin. “Mad?” He scoffed. “Kriff, seeing you with your legs wrapped around that man, his -- his mouth on your neck? I wasn’t mad, cyar’ika, I was livid.”

You gasped, his hands moving around your body until his bare fingers were brushing the sides of your breasts. You arched into him, your eyes fluttering closed.

“I wanted nothing more than to rip him off your body and throw him to the tusken raiders.” He growled out, cupping your chest in his large hands. You moaned at the contact, your brain short-circuiting. You knew nothing but his touch and his growled words.

“Paz…” You moan out, leaning forward to rest your head on his shoulder.

“And then,” He started. He moved one of his hands down your waist and you whimpered at the loss of contact. The disappointment didn’t last long as he cupped your core, pressing until you let out a gasp. “And then you come in here. You come in here and tell me not to be mad. You come in here and say my name in that sweet, sweet voice of yours that makes me want to stuff my cock in your mouth until you can no longer say a single … damn… thing.”

His word set a fire within you. You ground down on his hand, whimpering when it didn’t give you the relief you so desperately needed. Your hands grasp his shoulders, your nails scratching at his armor.

“Paz … please …” You moan, digging your hips into his lap.

He growled at your words, with one hand thumbing your nipple, and the other pressing against your core. You had never wanted another person more than you did right then. The man’s touch from just hours before did not even come close to comparing how you felt with Paz.

“Paz … “ You whined again. You turned your head towards his neck and dug underneath his cowl until your lips pressed against his skin. His entire body tightened at your touch and a strained moan broke out from beneath his helmet. The sound shot through your body and you were emboldened, knowing he was affected by you as well. You began to lick and suck marks into the side of his neck, your head bumping gently into his helmet.

“Maker, cyar’ika.” Paz mumbled, making you grin against his neck.

Before you could register what was happening, Paz hooked his hands around the back of your thighs and stood up. You gasped at suddenly being in the air, held up by nothing except Paz himself. Before you even processed this, your back was on the floor, Paz hovering over you. He seemed much larger from this angle and you thought to be intimidated by his size until everything went out of your mind as his hips gently bumped into yours. It was only then that you felt his bulge.

Stars, he was huge.

You didn’t know why you were surprised. You knew he was a big man. But somehow, when being faced with more evidence of that fact, you were stunned into silence. Well, not really silence. As soon as Paz bumped into your core again, you let out a moan that practically echoed throughout the cockpit.

“Kriff, mesh’la, you’re eager, aren’t you?” He asked, his voice hoarse. “Listen to you moan. Makes me want more. I want to hear your screams ripping through this ship as I have my face buried in your sweet cunt.”

You gasped, screwing your eyes shut and reaching up to twist your own nipple as he bumped into your hips again.

“I want to have your hair tangled around my fist as you gag on my cock.”

He ground against your core, thrusting slightly to accentuate his words. You gasped, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, wishing more than anything you didn’t have clothes separating your bodies.

“I want to watch you come around my cock, nothing but those cute little gasps coming out of your mouth.”

“Paz … “ You whimpered, arching off the floor, wishing you could sink into his skin. The stars racing across the sky reflected in his armor, making him feel like he was a part of the galaxy itself.

“Say my name one more time, mesh’la, and I will make it the only word you are physically able to speak for the rest of our ride.” He threatened, a growl in his voice.

That was the tipping point for you. His words, meant as a threat, was the exact thing you wanted - needed - in that very moment. You were going to make sure he kept his damn word. You reached in between the two of you, reaching for his belt buckle, and … nothing.

He wasn’t there and you were so, so cold. Your eyes fluttered open in confusion, only to see him on his feet, towering over you. He was looking down at you, impassive, taking in your rumpled clothes and tangled hair. Taking in his handiwork.

“Din’s up.” He said finally, moving back to the pilot’s chair. “You should go get some more sleep.”

At his words, you finally heard Din moving around in the hall, talking to the baby who responded in coos. Your entire face turned red, hoping they hadn’t heard the two of you. You scrambled to your feet, feeling dazed and confused and on edge. You took one last look towards Paz, who was back to ignoring you completely, before leaving the cockpit.

On your way down the ladder, you bumped into Din at the bottom. You turned even more red, your body on fire between the embarrassment and the … events from the cockpit. Neither of you said anything as you quickly moved past him, running into the refresher to hide.

As you lowered yourself down on the floor, you put your head into your hands, trying to process what just happened. And what didn’t happen. And what you wanted to happen.

Stars.

[shinishinigummy]

Whumptober 2021: Day 2

Talking is Overrated

Hades Fanfiction | Choking

Summary: Zagreus has had enough of Theseus, and decides to try something new in their next encounter. In their battle in Elysium, someone goes a little too far.

Until we meet again, mother.

Eager to reach the summit and the snows of Greece, Zagreus takes up his bow and pierces through countless undead denizens, much like every other day before him.

After receiving the great goddess Demeter's blessing, he opens the double doors to the colosseum. This would lead him to the final trial in his journey through Elysium, which he had loathed since the first time he set foot there, not for the challenge, mind you, but for the man he would be facing.

Zagreus is greeted with the cheers of a thousand spectating souls of the Elysian arena. All around him are watchtowers and seats filled to the brim with the shades and shadows of champions and spectators long past. Grand gold banners featuring the visage of a handsome, bronze-skinned man, and a proud, red-horned bull-man, are hung around the arches. They were Theseus and Asterius, and they represented the cream of the crop, the pride and glory of Elysium.

He's rolling his eyes and sighing in exasperation before he even looks up at the duo.

"And here he comes, the foul beast! Come to get pummeled by me and my trusted friend, have you? Well, look no further!" Theseus, the oh-so-mighty champion of Elysium, friend of the gods and of the people. If looks could kill, they could, because his personality radiated look at me - his incredibly toned body, shield and spear in one hand. His friend and fellow fighter, the mighty bull of Minos, sneers at Zagreus.

The heart-seeking bow thrums with pure, unbridled energy in Zagreus’ hand, eager for a fight. Bows are not supposed to have feelings, but somehow, he could feel it radiating annoyance from hearing the notorious speaker.

Zagreus pipes up. "I should say the same thing to you, mate. Why don't you let poor Asterius here talk sometime? He must be bored to death with how much boasting you spew."

The man-bull, Asterius, swings his towering axe, its glint dangerous and shiny. “We’ve talked about this before, short one. I’m indebted to him, and there is nothing more to say about this.”

He was not one for words, as experience puts it. So Theseus speaks for him. “Silence,you wretch! I'll have you know that he has no time to talk with knaves like you. You’ll never achieve anything, and if it takes the will of the gods to come and teach you a lesson, then I happily oblige.”

Theseus raises his spear, and the audience cheers in anticipation.

“Now die!”

Asterius huffs and charges down the arena as Zagreus dashes away to prepare a frosted arrow. With not a word, Zagreus’ frozen arrows fire true at the bull. At the same time, he dodges the attacks coming at him from Theseus’ spear. His moves are fluid and efficient - one charged arrow after another, and he smirks as he sees the already-weaking Asterius, the spring in his charge getting slower by the moment. Theseus, on the other hand, seems not to be bothered at all by this, and remains sneering at him, not a scratch on his toned body. Still, that damned champion keeps talking.

“Back, foul daemon, or be vanquished even faster than you've come to expect!"

It has been many attempts before he’s come to familiarize himself with the duo’s moves. Theseus always proves to be a difficult one as he's always kept his distance, and when Zagreus comes close enough to strike, he holds out his shield, laughing all the while. Setting himself between one of the podiums, he easily dodges Asterius’ axe bearing down upon him, but somehow he was grazed by a shockwave of purple energy, scoring him across his right leg.

“Argh! You..” Zagreus winces in pain. He stands up - there was no room for error here - and situates himself in another podium as he takes a bloodstone to cast a fog of thunder and poison. As soon as Asterius charges towards him, he throws the bloodstone in the air and it explodes in a haze of purple and yellow, temporarily stunning the bull-man.

Zagreus then calls upon Artemis to finish the job. In a flash of green, the hunter's seeking arrow bears down on Asterius and he screams as he drops to the ground, lifeless. In the underworld, no one truly dies - so the blood of the river Styx comes to claim his body, to be resurrected once more.

“Asterius, no!”

Theseus growls. Across the colosseum, Zagreus can feel the anger and sadness in his opponent’s voice as he prepares to cast another festive fog in his direction. The crowd roars with anticipation as Theseus throws his spear in Zagreus' direction, and he successfully pierces his shoulder, eliciting a surprised yelp.

“What, blackguard, had enough? We're just getting started!” Theseus stops for a moment, and calls upon a favor from Olympus.

“Lord Ares, give me your power!”

The arena suddenly darkens, and there is a chill that makes Zagreus’ stomach drop. All around Zagreus, deathly, bloodstained blades materialize out of nowhere and threaten to drop at his head anytime. Zagreus prepares to fire an arrow, but suddenly feels a pierce at his lower right side. It hurt, but he had to keep pressing forward, finding an opening where he could rest and nock a frosted arrow once more. All the while, Theseus comes nearer to him, taking his spear while avoiding the frenzy of Ares’ blades.

“I could destroy you, right here, right now. But not yet. I want to see you suffer and bleed out across the arena, just like what you’ve done with my Asterius!”

Zagreus was not at his peak performance. His carelessness led him to be struck by another blade as the wind got knocked out of his chest. Theseus closes the distance between them. His spear presses onto his bleeding side, and Zagreus can feel the pain blossom and explode. He screams as he feels life leave him, and Theseus smirks in smug satisfaction.

“There we go--" and the spear presses ever deeper. "--The gods are in my favor, and I will do everything I can to prove that I am qualified for that. Without their blessings, you are nothing. This help from Lord Ares is nothing, as even without it..” The spear in Zagreus’ side connects with the wall behind him, and Zagreus cries out in pain. “I can crush you, like the little vermin you are. I’m here to stop you from accomplishing whatever it is you want to do beyond here, Zagreus, because you’re not worthy--”

Theseus chokes on his words as Zagreus’ screams, darkness enveloping his body as he defies death. He feels life come back to him and his newfound strength gives him the energy to take an arrow and slash at Theseus’ face. In a flurry, Zagreus turns the tables. He takes out the spear on his side and takes Theseus by the neck, slamming him onto the wall of the colosseum. He takes his spear and with much force, stabs Theseus on the heart with it, and into the void Theseus screams.

“Khh.. what--”

“Shut up, Theseus. You’re the vermin. Not me.”

A blade comes down to deal damage to Zagreus but he endures the pain as it slices his right arm. Theseus is on the ground, nearly lifeless, a gaping hole in the middle of his proud chest. In his fury he tries to reach for his spear but Zagreus merely stabs it onto the hole he’s already made, blood quickly pouring out of it. At the same time he raises his foot, stepping on Theseus’ mouth to prevent him from speaking again.

In the same fashion that Asterius had exited, so too did Theseus. There was fear in his blue eyes as Theseus looked up to see Zagreus and his mismatched eyes with a crazed look. There was a fury that was not there before. Perhaps, he thought, he had said something wrong. Perhaps, he thought, he had gone too far. His body gives in as the floor becomes liquid, the river Styx claiming his body.

The crowd in Elysium cheers as only Zagreus is left alone in the colosseum, the indication that he was the victor. But Zagreus does not look up. He remembers Theseus’ words, as he recalls that that was the first time he has ever addressed him by his name. Somehow, that scared him. Perhaps, he had gone too far.

He takes his strides as he collects the bounty of ambrosia in the middle of the arena. He raises a hand towards the singular shade that has a banner with his visage on it, and he wondered what they thought about their actions in the battle. But he cannot talk, as he has much to think about.

As silently as he had entered, Zagreus headed toward the double doors that lead to the Temple of Styx open up to him, leaving behind the audience of Elysium.

[calanthemavis]

LEMON - a Renesmee Cullen one-shot, inspired by “Thirteen” (2003)

"Renesmee Cullen!", the teacher barked. I heard snickering behind me, causing me to roll my eyes. Not another day of them laughing at my name. If there was anyone to blame, it was my mother. She could have chosen any other name (well, except for Edward Jacobina or Gertrude), so why had she chosen Renesmee? To honour her mother and my father's adoptive mother. So dumb.

The teacher ignored the laughter of the students and roared at me to read the next poem in the textbook. I was stuck in an English Literature class and we were learning about poetry. I personally thought our teacher made the class even worse and more boring than it was. Neither it was advanced enough for my mind, nor my classmates seemed to cooperate and make things easier with their constant snickering and gossiping.

The material was far too easy. We were preparing for our SAT exams and we were just now learning about poetry?

I let out a small sigh before opening my mouth to read the example on the page of the textbook:

He was crippled but only his bodywas cracked It's not easy, nor is it an easy matter to explain. "Let's just leave it at that," she says and closes The Holy Book of Lies. She covers her eyes, denying to herself what she thought happened.

The class snickered yet again. What the fuck did they find amusing enough to laugh? The poem? The way I had read it?

Having just read the poem, I personally found it relatable. I could easily identify myself with the woman and the man could definitely be Jacob. The way I interpret the poem had to do with the imprinting. Ever since Jacob (in the presence of the rest of my family, of course) had revealed to me the truths of imprinting, I hadn't spoken to him. I had refused to look him in the eyes. I needed time to process this and everyone was making it even harder for me.

My heart ached that there was practically no one on this planet who appreciated me the way I was without some magic being involved. Dozens of vampires had fought to save my life but only because hybrid children (like me) were somehow alluring to everyone (supposedly). If that was the case, then why did my classmates think I was nothing special? Why hadn't they struck a conversation with me during the past couple of years? And before you blame me for being antisocial, here is my defence: every time I'd tried speaking to them, I would be met with snickering, snickering and even more snickering. So much for "Oh, honey! Everyone will love you! You're a hybrid, you attract people the way honey attracts bees!". Well, I had to be some sort of honey that was too sweet to be eaten, the kind of honey people would be repulsed by (did such thing even exist?).

The bell rang before the teacher could even give us homework. I now had to have a lunch break which would be followed by a free period. Only, however, I wasn't going to sit in the cafeteria with everybody else. I had learnt that nobody would ever want to sit by a freakshow like me. Luckily, very few people came outside, especially to the corner where I hid.

When I made sure nobody was watching me, I snuck a hand in the pocket of my jeans to retrieve a lighter and a cigarette. Thank the Lord that my parents never checked what I hid in my clothes. I didn't want to have to resort to sneaking stuff in my bra or panties - that would be gross.

I had learnt to smoke as soon as I had begun attending this school. So far nobody seemed to be aware of that. Covering the smell of cigarettes was not as hard. I could easily lie that I had stood next to smokers after classes. After a long conversation with my mother and a therapy session with one of my uncles, my dad had begun to trust me more and to not snoop on my private thoughts (the biggest mistake ever if you are the parent of a teenager).

Smoking made me feel older. It made me somehow feel connected to my human side. I was aware of the consequences, but truth to be told, I didn't care. So what if I died? Everybody died, even vampires! Fear of death, in my honest opinion, was the most ridiculous fear to ever exist. Yes, death was devastating, but it was part of life.

And when I put the cigarette between my lips, ready to inhale and exhale one more time, I closed my eyes, never allowing myself to rush. I wanted to take my time, to live in the moment. Smoking was a privilege. I could only do it outside and as long as I was out of my father's reach. If my mind was safe, then so were my cigarettes as well. I couldn't exist without them anymore. They were the only thing that still kept me where I was.

My sweet safe heaven.

*

Jacob and I were at his place. One week later, I had forgiven him, alas not so easy. I needed something from him and I had the feeling that he was the only one who could give it to me.

We were sitting on the couch in his living room, as the TV was distracting him. That was when I knew I had to execute my plan. If he had imprinted on me and he would do anything for me, then what was the problem in him being the one to have the key to my virginity? I was sick and tired of being supposedly sixteen and pure. And my father could go and shove his 1910s moral values in his ass. Or my mother's. I wasn't like them. I wanted to be cool. And the cool girls had penetrated vaginas. They thought I couldn't hear them in the toilet? Perks of being a vampire-human hybrid.

Or so I had thought.

At first, it was easy to mimic women from books and television and to begin planting small kisses on his neck, as he was still distracted by some crappy TV series. But when I attempted to straddle him, he pushed me away, knocking me onto the carpeted floor.

"What the fuck was that for?", I exclaimed, trying to hide the fact that I was in pain. My bum was throbbing.

"What is wrong with you?", he raised his voice at me. He had never done that. Not even the previous week when I had shouted in his face and hadn't wanted to see him ever again.

Even trying to play dumb didn't work. He continued screaming about how my parents would freak out and how we weren't even in a relationship. Apparently, he wanted to follow my parents' advice and to wait until marriage. Loser.

I squeezed my lips into a thin line and grabbing all of the dignity I still had left, I rushed out of the small house, seeing red. How could he do this to me? Wasn't I supposed to wear the pants in this relationship?

As soon as I was far enough away from the red house, I began pacing back and forth, feeling humiliated. Fuck Jacob. Fuck my classmates and my teachers. Fuck everyone! Only cigarettes didn't betray me. And they never would, because they were objects, toys to calm people down.

I quickly lit a cigarette to calm myself down. I thought I would be left alone, but, of course, God had another plan for me.

I was smoking, trying to be discreet when I heard footsteps. And who did I see when I looked up? Seth Clearwater. Just my fucking luck.

It was too late. He had seen me with a cigarette in my hand. I quickly dropped it and furiously stepped on it with my foot. Seth's eyes never left mine. They looked as if they were going to pop out of his face at any moment. And I couldn't blame him. If anyone I knew in real life saw me like that, they would be disturbed by the view as well. Besides, no one expected the miracle child of the Cullens to be a smoker. Well, too bad. Expectations never lead to good things anyway.

"Nessie? Was that a cigarette in your hand?", he screeched. If he was even a little bit louder than he already was, the whole reservation would hear us. As if it hadn't been more than enough that Seth had already seen me and was going to do God knew what! Especially since he was studying Medicine. I wasn't in the mood for being lectured about smoking. My body - my choice!

From anger, I pulled him by the collar of his shirt so that our eyes could meet. And then I hissed in his face like a snake:

"If you dare to tell anyone about it, I will never forgive you, got it?"

I had never seen Seth behave like that. He looked as if he had seen a bear and had pooped in his pants from fear.

I knew I had been incredibly rude to Seth. But he was Jacob's best friend. I couldn't let him tattle on me.

*

"Renesmee Carlie Cullen! What is this?", my mother roared as soon as I stepped into the main house. My father had insisted on picking me up from school that day. During the entire journey back home, he hadn't spoken a word to me. One damn word. And I was about to find out why.

Then, when we arrived home, I was taken aback. In the family room, everyone had gathered, looking like they had just witnessed a murder. At first, I was confused. What was going on? Had anyone died? And then I noticed that my mother was holding a bag. But not just any - it was the one where I kept every secret.

My heart was beating rapidly. I could feel sweat forming on my entire body. My face was probably flushed like a tomato. Now I looked like I had seen a bear and had pooped in my pants. Karma was a bitch. And I was about to pay for everything I had done.

My mother poured everything... and I mean everything on the coffee table. My hidden packets of cigarettes, my lighters, my stash of money I had been stealing from my parents for quite a while. How else could I afford my goodies? I had a green little monster inside of me that I had to satisfy!

Aunt Rosalie's gasp was the loudest. Both her palms had covered her mouth and her eyes were even wider than mine or Seth's the previous day. I imagined she was in disbelief that her own niece could do stuff like that. Even uncle Emmett couldn't calm her down.

Something was making my heart feel as if it was being squeezed with bare hands. But what was it? Was it guilt? Or was it the shame? Or was it just because all of my secrets had been exposed in a matter of seconds?

And how had my family found out in the first place?

"Seth," my father loudly confirmed my suspicions. He had to have told Jacob, who had to have informed my family. What else?

I wanted to break everything around me. To burn the whole house, including my whole family and me. Or to at least sink in the ground and to never re-appear.

Instead, when I was asked why I had done all of that shit, my body betrayed me. Cries escaped from my mouth as I dropped on the floor like a puppet without somebody to control it. What was the point to fight back? I was defeated. Outnumbered. All I could do was to allow myself to be taken in somebody's cold arms. I wasn't controlling my mind anymore. My father could now see the treatment I had been receiving from my peers for the past couple of years and how it had contributed to my new unhealthy habits. How the imprinting had deceived me, how I had almost lost all of my dignity the previous day. He could see that I wasn't okay and that I hadn't been for a while.

"It will be alright," I heard cooing in my ear, but I couldn't register whose voice it was. Scratch that. I couldn't register anything except for my own wailing.

That night I wept in my mother's cold embrace until I fell asleep. And when I opened my eyes the next morning, it was a new day.

*

Long three years had passed since that day when my secrets had been revealed to my vampiric family. Long years full of therapy sessions, family time and some dates with Jacob until we broke up. He had decided to stay back in La Push and I wanted to move on. I supposed imprint didn't always end up the way Sam and Emily had - with a happy family after all of the troubles they had endured. On the bright side, Leah (Sam's ex) was now in a relationship with Jacob. They wanted me to bring the rings on their wedding day. Aunt Alice was already sewing me a dress.

It was my first day in a new school. I was starting my second cycle of high school again by myself. I was hoping it would be better than the previous one. If not, then I didn't know what I was going to do. I couldn't be cooped up at home all day long. Despite the fact that I was going to be forever young, that didn't mean I couldn't contribute to society somehow. But that would come later on. I wanted to allow myself to be a teenager first, to gain some experience before University and from there I would decide what job to find.

My mother had driven me to school that morning. She thought it wouldn't be so bad, since I was pretending to be a ninth-grader. Most fourteen-year-olds still spent time with their families, including allowing their mothers to pick their clothes for school and to drive them to school. There was still time for everything. No need to rush. I had grown up in the blink of an eye and had caused trouble for everybody.

And now that I was chronologically almost fourteen, I could let myself behave like one. Fourteen-year-olds, as much as they despised it, still needed the adults in their life. And after years of attempting to be a pseudo-adult, so did I. No matter what, I would always need my family.

On the ride to my new school, I had sat in the front and had chosen the music to allow myself to feel calmer. The previous night, I had had a nightmare for the first time in years. I had woken up at three in the morning, drenched in sweat as if I was a little girl again, scared to death by the Volturi. I had barely slept, allowing my nerves to take over me.

Before I left the car, my mom grasped my hand. She wanted me to look at her and so I did. She made me promise her yet again that I wasn't going to do any foolish stuff anymore. Or else those three years of therapy would be for nothing.

I released a breath I had attempted to hold, "I just hope that this high school experience will be better than my previous one, you know," I wanted to chuckle, to be funny. But I found nothing amusing in my words.

My mother looked at me with a hint of concern in her eyes, "Don't worry about that. You'll do great, okay? And if something is wrong, don't hesitate to come to us. We are here for you."

As soon as she was done with her pep talk, I couldn't help but throw my arms around her, holding back tears. This time, everything would be different.

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee: https://ko-fi.com/keepfaithbaby

[zelzenik]

my latest installment of “family portraits” is here! no prompts this time, but please feel free to keep sending them in if you have any ideas!

to read this on ao3/sub there/drop kudos, please click here :))

The waves crest and fall, and Sokka is restless, nearly frantic, by the time the boat finally reaches the harbor. Not wasting a single moment, he doesn’t even bother to gather his belongings before stumbling off the gangway and onto the dock. “Ty Lee - Is there any news?” he sounds breathless, as though he’s gotten the wind knocked out of him.

Ty Lee, head of the Royal Family’s contingent of Kyoshi warriors, twists her lips into an unusually worried frown. “She’s been struggling, Sokka. We need to get you to the palace as soon as possible.” Without further discussion, she motions for his luggage to be carried behind them, taking off as his escort to the palace.

The air is unsufferably hot and sticky, and Sokka’s already taken off his parka, draping it over his free arm. “How’s Zuko handling it all?”

“He’s worried,” Ty Lee replies shortly, glancing back at the Water Tribe chieftain. Her gray eyes, typically alight with laughter and life, are heavy with unshed tears. “He’s asked about your father and gran-gran. Will they be journeying here as well?”

“No,” Sokka shakes his head quickly. “Gran-Gran’s been feeling weak, and Dad decided it’d be best if he remained with Pakku to take care of her and look after the tribe in my absence. We’ve all been very concerned since receiving Zuko’s last message via Hawky.” He strides quickly up the palace steps where he and Ty Lee will part ways.

Twisting her torso and lifting her arms up in an elastic stretch, Ty Lee replies, “Katara’s very strong, Sokka. She’s already survived two pregnancies, and she won’t go down during her third.” She then extends her arm in a sweeping gesture. “Katara and Zuko should be in their chambers.”

Clunky boots thudding against the clean floors of the palace hallways, Sokka isn’t going to see Katara and Zuko. Not yet, at least. He reaches Ursa’s gardens in a matter of minutes, servants jolting out of his way as he tears down the corridors with the ferocity of a madman.

Under the cover of arching trees, by the calm of the turtleduck pond, his little nieces play. Izumi, recently five, and Kya, a robust two. Another figure sits beside them, but Sokka barely has time to register their presence as Izumi and Kya launch themselves at him. He drops his parka to the grass as his arms shoot out to catch them.

���Uncle Sokka!” Izumi exclaims, throwing her tiny arms around his torso.

Kya, with her gummy grin, beams up at him, repeating after her older sister, “Uncle! Uncle!”

Sokka can’t help it. His heart melts at the sight, and he scoops them both up in his arms as they let out identical squeals of delight. “My Zumi and Kya,” he nuzzles both their cheeks in turn as Kya giggles, tugging at his warrior’s wolftail and pawing away at his stubble. “I’ve missed you both so much.” His attention is drawn back to the figure sitting by the pond, fiddling idly with breadcrumbs. His voice gets caught at the back of his throat. “…Azula?”

“Sokka.”

“Auntie Zula’s feeding the turtleducks with us!” Izumi explains with a bright grin, beginning to squirm in his arms. He sets her down, and she makes her way back to Azula, throwing her arms around her aunt with a look of pure adoration.

“What’re you doing here?” he can’t help the edge that creeps into his voice. He bites back a harsh retort, acutely aware of Kya and Izumi’s presences.

In all honesty, he’d forgotten that Azula still lived at the palace. He’s seen her a few times since the end of the war, back when he visited the palace more often to be with his family and a certain Kyoshi warrior. After breaking things off with Suki, though, he hasn’t been back much since then. Suki was needed back on Kyoshi Island, and he was needed at the South Pole. Shortly after, Suki relinquished her position at the palace to Ty Lee, and Sokka succeeded his father as Chief of the Southern Water Tribe.

He visits on occasion, of course - He was present for Izumi’s birth, calming his anxious brother in law as Zuko wore down the carpet beneath them with his constant pacing. He was there for Kya’s birth too, taking care of Izumi as Katara and Zuko adjusted to life with a second baby in the family. Azula wasn’t present for either of those. What is she doing here now?

Azula, ever sharp and straightforward, replies, “I’m playing with my nieces.” Her pert chin is lifted, and her golden eyes follow him appraisingly. She’s twenty four now, the same age as Katara. It’s been ten years since the end of the war.  A mere decade ago, she was a broken fourteen year old girl, breathing blue fire and lashing out at all who dared to get close to her, screaming in anger, ever haunted by ghosts that didn’t exist to anyone but her.

“I think you mean my nieces,” Sokka cuts in smoothly, tickling Kya who shrieks in laughter.

A slender brow arches. “They’re my nieces, Sokka.” Gaze never dropping Sokka’s, she breaks off little pieces of bread for Izumi to feed to the turtleducks. Her limbs are folded delicately, and her light red robe hangs from her lithe body gently. Unlike the topknot she wore when she was younger, her long dark hair hangs loose, framing her face. Izumi bears a startling resemblance to her, he realizes.

He’s just about to protest again when Kya’s arms fling out from him, her tiny hands reaching for Azula. Instead of handing the wiggling toddler off, Sokka reluctantly sits down beside his former enemy, shifting Kya in his arms. Izumi’s tossing bread into the pond with reckless abandon, accidentally hitting herself on the head with her enthusiasm.

“That’s definitely your side of the family showing,” Azula notes dryly. The corner of her lips turn up ever so slightly, though, and Sokka bears it silently, forgoing retaliation as Kya pats his cheeks happily.

Izumi pops in between them, throwing an arm around their necks and tugging them into a warm embrace. “I’ve never played with you both before!” she exclaims in excitement, and Kya claps her hands in agreement. “I can’t wait to show you my fire, Uncle Sokka! Daddy and Auntie Zula’ve been helping me, and Daddy wants to take me to see dragons one day!” She lights up a small flame in the palm of her hand, and Kya reaches for it with a giggle.

Jerking Kya back quickly, Sokka can’t help the jolt of fear that courses through him at his tiny niece wielding such bright fire.

Thankfully, Izumi doesn’t seem to register his scared reaction, but Azula places a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I know you’re excited, Izumi, but we still have to be careful with your fire. Do you remember what we spoke about the other day?”

Izumi’s small face scrunches in thought before her golden eyes light up. “We protect people by protecting and being the boss of our flame. I remember, Auntie Zula. That’s what you and Daddy always tell me.”

“I’m proud of you for remembering,” Azula says, her voice cracking lightly. “My smart, kind Izumi.” Stiffly, she opens her arms to the little girl who returns her affection freely.

Sokka doesn’t quite know what to make of the situation. Ten years ago, he would’ve laughed if someone told him he’d be sharing such a tender family moment with the firebending prodigy who chased them around the world and constantly tried to kill them. Granted, he probably would’ve done the same if he were told that his little sister would one day be Fire Lady, bearing children of Fire Nation blood.

He opts, instead, for silence, threading his fingers through Kya’s dark curls. Together, they wait by the turtleduck pond for what seems like hours. He desperately wants to find his sister and make sure that she’s okay, but he knows that Katara needs him here more, looking after her children. Ty Lee was right - Katara has Zuko, countless physicians, and herself. She’s a master waterbender, more than capable of taking care of herself and her baby. If he went to visit her now, she’d likely grow tired of his fussing, knock him upside the head, and get Zuko to kick him out of the room. Or worse, she’d do it herself.

Shuddering at the thought, Sokka focuses his attention back toward his nieces. He’s still floored at the way Azula has mellowed over the years, patient and tender toward both Izumi and Kya. She never raises her voice, and she’s attentive and doting with them in a way that even Sokka isn’t.

As the sun slowly begins to creep its way beyond the horizon, they spend the afternoon feeding the turtleducks, reading picturebooks, and eating a meal that’s brought out to them by the servants. By dusk, there’s still no word from Zuko and Katara.

Just as an overly calm Azula’s suggesting to an overly anxious Sokka that they get the girls ready for bed, a servant comes bursting into the gardens. “Fire Lord Zuko and Fire Lady Katara have summoned you all to their chambers!”

Sokka’s so relieved that tears begin to course down his cheeks as he hoists a wide-eyed Kya onto his shoulders. Izumi, who typically tires by the time the sun sets, is bouncing on her heels excitedly. Even Azula appears more at ease as she holds Izumi’s hand, the heavy crease on her brow finally gone. They make quite the little caravan, Sokka decides, as they make their way through the palace to Zuko and Katara’s chambers.

Standing at the entrance, Zuko is haggard, sweat beading at his brow, fingers pressed to his temples. At the sight of his children, though, he breaks into a relieved smile, sweeping them into his arms and kissing the tops of both of their heads. “Sokka,” he greets, extending his arm and meeting Sokka in a strong Water Tribe grip. “Azula, thank you both for watching them.” He folds his little sister in a tight hug before turning his attention back to his children, “Are you ready to meet your baby brother now?” Grinning at their exuberant reactions, he leads them into the room. “I’ll be back out in just a second,” he promises, lightly closing the door behind them.

Sokka’s left standing in the hallway with Azula. “A nephew,” he can’t help but grin. He adores his nieces, and they can easily bend him to their every whim, but he can’t help the thrill he feels at the prospect of having a nephew too.

Hugging herself tightly, Azula repeats in a whisper, “A nephew.”

Finally, after what seems like an eternity later, Zuko returns, poking his head out of the door. “Hey. I believe you both have a nephew to meet.”

Unable to contain his excitement, Sokka quickly strides forward to follow his brother in law, pausing when Azula reluctantly peels herself from where she’s leaned against the wall. There’s such an uncertainty in her eyes that, after a beat, Sokka extends a hand out to her, and she hesitantly slips her soft one into his rough one.

They follow Zuko into his chambers where Katara smiles tiredly, propped up against a mountain of pillows, a tiny bundle in her arms. Izumi and Kya are at either side, curiously peering over her to look at their baby brother. “Sokka. Azula. Come.”

Zuko gathers his little girls into his arms, falling into a plush armchair and pulling them both to sit on his lap. He tousles their curly hair and hugs them both to his chest, watching over his wife proudly from the bedside.

Azula’s feet seem to be rooted to the floor, and Sokka tugs her forward gently, fighting the instinctual urge to rush to his sister’s side. “Katara,” he grins at his little sister, kissing the top of her head lightly. “I’ve missed you.”

Wrinkling her nose, Katara shoots back easily, “I haven’t missed you.” She then gives a small laugh, glancing back down at the little bundle in her arms. “Here,” she offers it up to him. “His name is Iroh.” Her blue eyes are heavy, and there are dark circles beneath them. This pregnancy was very difficult for her, he knows.

“Uncle will be pleased,” Azula says, the words sounding choked and strangled in comparison to her normally elegant speech.

With his girls tucked in his arms, Zuko watches them softly, love shining in his eyes. “He will. He’s to arrive within the next week or so from Ba Sing Se.” At that, both his girls twist up to look at him, wearing mirrored expressions of delight.

“Grandpa’s coming?” the question bursts from Izumi’s lips, and Zuko hushes her gently, nodding his head. She climbs out of his lap, crawling back up to nestle into her mother’s side, and Kya remains in Zuko’s arms.

Peering down at the little face, Sokka cradles the bundle against his chest, noting the shock of black hair atop the baby’s head and the tiny curled fists. He leans down slightly so that Azula can peek too, and his blue eyes drift toward hers before he can stop them.

Tears have been freely trailing down Sokka’s cheeks this entire time; he’d been overwhelmed both with fear for his sister’s life and sheer joy at the thought of her baby son. Now he can see that Azula’s had a similar response, albeit a more subdued one.

Hesitantly, she lifts a finger, catching Katara’s gaze from where she lies on the bed. At Katara’s nod of encouragement, Azula strokes a gentle finger along baby Iroh’s face, from his forehead, down to his nose, and across his soft cheeks. Unconsciously, she grips Sokka’s arm, gazing at the baby with such an unbridled love that he’s almost content to watch her instead of little Iroh. Almost.

“He’s our little nephew,” Sokka finally says, his voice heavy with emotion.

Azula looks up at him, the sharp angles of her face softening. “Our little nephew.”

His lips curve up into a smile. Their little nephew.