#i watch bouldering for the plot

[cw-ianthe]

me when miho nonaka is on screen: 🥰🥰💕💕🥰😂💪🥰💪🥰😘💕💕💕🥰💪💪🥰

[pastel-peach-writes]

Hello!! I love your Korra X readers so I’m just gonna ask if you could do a Korra x Fem!reader (or GN up to you!) with the cliche plot of Reader being injured and not telling anyone until later? Hope you are doing well!!

YURR lets go. I initially wrote this as a fem!reader, but I didn't even use the reader's pronouns in this so, gender neutral reader it is!

Kiss It Better | Korra x Beifong!Reader

╰┈➤ PLOT: With your girlfriend saving the world all the time, you take it as your job to not worry her with your own problems. If you needed help with something, you'd figure it out or get someone else's help. What happens when your "selflessness" nearly costs you an arm?

╰┈➤ WARNING: Injured!Reader, Suggestive Mentions, Cursing, Not Proofread, Beifong!Reader

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

It was a simple fracture. You were training with Bolin and a cluster of Earth hit you too hard in the arm. Bolin apologized and even offered to take you to the infirmary, but you rejected him.

One, you were a Beifong; you don't get hurt. Two, if you go to the infirmary, chances are you'll get a cast or some sort of sling. That'll worry your girlfriend, the Avatar, and with all the duties she had to attend to, your fractured arm was the least of her worries.

"Oh, fuck," you hissed, leaning back into your plush sofa. Typically, the plush cushions and fuzzy fabric would comfort you. The cushions would allow your muscles to relax and for your body to find comfort in the warm snuggles of your girlfriend's blanket. But now, the cushions only make your body hurt worse.

There was no support in the cushions. The plushiness was too plushy and the warm comfort typically found within the blanket was annoying.

"I'm home!" Korra announced. The woman kicked off her boots, put up her short hair, and plopped beside you on the couch.

You groaned, holding your bicep.

Korra tilted her head, raising a brow. "Hey, you okay? Was I too loud or something?"

Time slowed as you forced a laugh out of your chest. If you laughed too hard, your arm would ache. If you didn't laugh enough, Korra would assume something was wrong.

Nothing was wrong. At least, to her knowledge.

"Oh, sorry!" you smiled at her, "I was actually practicing this new joke Mako taught me. I was supposed to make this sound, but I guess I haven't mastered it yet."

"Oh... haha," Korra forced out of her. "No more taking joke suggestions from Mako. He doesn't have a funny bone in his body." The Avatar nestled her head on your chest. She hummed, snuggling into the warmth of your body.

"Right," you chewed on your lip. "I don't know what I was thinking."

-

"One, hit! Two, hit! Three--!"

"Okay!" you howled. You and Bolin have been training for three hours straight now. Something must've inspired Bolin because he's been sending over disks, boulders, and other forms of Earth toward you like there was no tomorrow. While he was losing pounds by sweating alone, your arm was screaming at you.

"Please stop moving me!" "I'm hurt!" "Why do you hate us?!"

You wished you could listen to your body. You really did. But you read somewhere that certain fractures can heal on their own with the proper rest and care.

You thought you could take it easy in training today, but obviously, Bolin had other plans.

"Oh," Bolin smiled, peeling himself away from his boxed stance. "Did I go too far? Sorry. Opal said something last night about guys working out and how she loved watching me train sometimes, so I wanted to work extra hard this practice so I wouldn't feel bad for showing off."

Your chest heaved up and down as the boy spoke. The fire in your arm was excruciating and it was spreading to your shoulders.

You trudged along the training center, going to a lousy bench where your water bottle and workout towel lay. "No, no," you told Bolin, "it's okay. I just need a break. That's all."

Lowering yourself onto the bench, your muscles and all the meat on your body felt like falling off the bone like you were a tenderly cooked piece of chicken. Your thighs ached and shook, like after an endless night with Korra. You took your towel and slung it over your good arm. You carefully opened your water bottle to take a sip.

Bolin followed after, mindlessly yapping about Opal and how pretty she was. Once he sat himself next to you and drank from his water, his eyes bulged out of his head, and water sprayed from his mouth.,

You whipped your head toward him, perplexed. "Oh, my Spirits! What was that?"

"What happened to your arm?" the boy exclaimed. He pointed at the swollen and bruised skin. Your rotator cuff was a deep purple with blue specs. He couldn't see it, but the bruising gave a pulsing sensation.

You scoffed and went for another sip of water. "Nothing. Just bumped into a pole."

"What kind of pole hit you like that?" he exclaimed again, now out of his seat. His green eyes were now filled with fear; his body trembled with worry.

You tried to shrug, but since your hurt arm was alarmingly tough and sore, only your good arm moved. "I don't know," you mumbled. "It was a while ago, I think. I can't really remember."

"Well, you have to at least let a nurse or someone qualified check you out! This looks bad, Beifong. No pole could've done this."

"Bolin," you rose to your feet. "I'm fine. Don't make me say it again." You didn't let Bolin get another word in as you gathered your things. "And Bolin, don't mention this to anyone."

-

Bolin can't keep a secret and honestly, it's your fault for telling him to keep one. You're his friend and Bolin doesn't believe in keeping his friends in danger. You need medical attention, even if you are too stubborn to admit it.

Immediately after practice, he ran to Mako who ran to Asami who told Korra.

When she first heard the news, Korra had mixed emotions. She was vexed because she didn't notice your pain and you didn't tell her, yet worried about the extremity of your injury. Could your arm fall off? What if the injury was actually worse underneath?

The Krew discussed your injury and how to intervene in your careless ways of living. There was a plan where they tricked you into going to the hospital, another where they took you out to dinner and would finesse you into spilling your guts, and then there's the plan they actually went through; the plan that made the most sense.

Korra was to go home with a smile on her face, cuddle and kiss on you for a while, and then ease into the conversation of training and injuries.

Mako thought the subtle conversation topic would force you to talk about your injury without actually forcing you.

Well, it's been two fucking hours of medical talk and Korra wasn't getting anywhere.

The two of you were cuddling on your bed, legs entangled with each other and her arms around your waist. She had her head on your good arm and from the corner of her eye, she could see the black and blue bruising that was growing to your neck.

Your pajamas acted as a pathetic way to hide it.

Korra was done playing the nice game. She had Asami in her head telling her to play the nice game and to ease into it. (She also had Mako claiming that Korra was unable to play the "nice-and-ease-into-it" game, but what Mako doesn't know won't kill him).

"Bolin told me," Korra spoke, her eyes fixated on the wall in front of you two.

You hummed, keeping your eyes closed. The ache and burn on your arm weren't as bad anymore. You also read somewhere that heat would inflame the injury more so after a quick lukewarm shower, you iced. You iced and replaced the ice for hours until Korra came home.

You were missing that ice right about now.

"Told you what?"

"That you have a disgusting bruise on your shoulder." Okay, so Bolin didn't describe it as disgusting, but what you don't know won't kill you either.

You snickered. "I ran into a pole, okay? It's not the big of a deal."

"Then why are you lying to me?" Korra pulled herself off of your chest. With delicate fingers, the Avater peeled the soft fabric off your shoulders.

The subtle movement of the fabric made you wince and the natural instinct was to push Korra away, so, you did. You pushed on her stomach to move her away from you. "Korra, don't."

"Oh, what are you gonna do?" she scoffed. Korra sat on her knees, shoulders squared to you and arms crossed over her chest. "Threaten me? You saw how that worked out with Bolin, nice move by the way." Korra's words were stern and leaning towards the angry side of things. Her nose scrunched while her nostrils flared. She was also gripping her arms so hard, her grip made marks.

"I didn't threaten him," you claimed.

"So, what would you call it? Being a bad friend? Telling him to keep your health a secret knowing damn well it's on the line?"

"My health is not on the line!" You've sat up from the bed now. Your bad arm rested on a mound of pillows and your good arm held it for support. "It's a tiny injury, sprain if you wanna go that far."

"That's rich," Korra scoffed. She shook her head, getting off the bed. "You can barely talk to me without the corner of your mouthing ticking from the pain. I can barely put my hands on your shirt and you can barely sit on the couch without groaning in pain."

You suddenly found interest in the ceiling. You took note of the texture and the color. You would find any new fact you could about this ceiling if it meant you could avoid Korra's burning gaze and her rising anger.

This is why you didn't want to tell her in the first place. She's worried about everyone else and for once, you wanted to be someone she doesn't have to worry about. But now she's here, yelling at you because she cares. Because you didn't tell her.

"I didn't want you to worry about me too," you mumbled. Your gaze dropped to the comforter. "You have so much on your plate, I wanted to ease the load. You shouldn't be stressed about me, you're the Avatar. You have more people to worry about."

Watching you struggle to look her in the eye, Korra sat herself on the bed. She put a soft hand on the mound of your knee, using her thumb to soothe the skin. "Hey," she spoke. "I am your girlfriend first and the Avatar second. I will always worry about you. You deserved to be worried about and cared for."

You swallowed thickly. The back of your throat scratched like you had a cold yet your mouth was eager to say something back. Your brain couldn't think of any words to say.

"Your struggles and problems aren't inferior to me. I want you to come to me with your troubles, not because I'm the Avatar, but because I'm your girlfriend. It's my job to care for you, to heal you when you're sick, and to pick you up when you're down. Master of the Elements or not, that's my job and it's yours too," she sighed. "So, please, for the first time, tell me what's wrong and what I can do to help you."

The moment your eyes locked with hers, a flood broke through you. You wept as you told her what was wrong with your arm and how long you've tried to sustain this injury, four days.

Korra could kick herself over and over again for not noticing how much pain you were in, but you were a good pretender. In some way, she had Bolin and Opal to thank. Without Bolin's sudden desire to train extra hard, you wouldn't be forced to stop pretending.

But instead of wallowing in self-pity and throwing a really weird party for the couple in her head, she comforted you. She pulled you to her chest and held you as tightly as she could without hurting you further.

The two of you stayed like that, you in her arms, for a while. You didn't take notice of the time spent in the position. You two focused on each other's breathing and warmth.

And finally, for the first time in a long time, you let Korra take care of you.

WC: 2,071

[lowkeycasanova]

baby it's hot out here

sanji x f!reader

plot: sanji seeing you innocently suck on a popsicle gives him inappropriate thoughts

warning: smut (18+)

It was hot.

Brutally hot.

The weather in the New World was unpredictable. From boulder sized hail, lighting rain, and now scorching rays. The relentless sun beat down on the Thousand Sunny. The air felt thick and stifling, as if nature conspired to make taking each breath a conscious effort.

The cool breeze of the ocean seemed to have abandoned the ship, leaving you all subject to the oppressive heat.

Amidst the sweltering conditions, everyone sought refuge where they could find it.

Luffy was sprawled out on the deck, his hat covering his face. Zoro was in the shadow of the ship's mast, still practicing his swordsmanship with beads of sweat running down his face, with Franky and Brook sitting close by. Usopp leaning over the edge of the ship in an attempt to catch whatever breeze was sent his way.

You, Nami, Robin, and Chopper, who diligently tried to cool himself with a handheld fan, laid in the shadows on the deckchairs.

"It's so hot, I'm sweating cola." Franky announces.

"You know," you heard Brook say as he flexed his arm and leaned on it like a pillar for support. "If you pretend it's a sauna, it's actually not so bad."

Sanji was in the kitchen, determined to whip up a refreshing drink for you ladies. Everyone else can get their own.

Bringing the drinks out, he makes his way over to you, Nami, and Robin, leaning down like a gentleman, offering the glasses.

"Thank you Sanji." Robin says politely and his heart skips a beat.

Nami takes one as she continues to examine her log pose.

"Thanks but, can I get one of those popsicles we just got?" You asked him, lifting up your sunglasses. It was at the last island the crew was at where you were gifted with a bag of these treats called popsicles that you never had before and had the desire to try.

"Of course, love. Anything you want." He replied with a suave grin. He made his way back to the kitchen, pulling out the bag from the freezer, ready to present it to you in a flourish.

You squeal in delight as you rummage through the assortment, Sanji watching with a lazy grin. You waste no time tearing the plastic wrap off a blue raspberry flavored one, bringing it to your lips. And it's so hot that it seemingly starts to melt already.

Sanji eyes a cherry one, but decides against taking it. He didn't need the sugar.

He puts the rest back in the freezer and walks back out on the deck with his own glass of ice water. He momentarily takes his cigarette out of his mouth to take a sip of water and he glances back at the beautiful ladies laid out adjacent from him.

Right then, you hold the treat in your mouth, as you take of your shirt, leaving you clad in a bikini top and shorts, leaving little to the imagination.

That alone would send Sanji over the edge, but now paired with the fact that your lips are stretched around the popsicle, sinking lower to the base and back up again, eyes fluttering closed.

His eyes go wide and his throat dry. He watches you slowly pull back off it, a sweet hum coming from your mouth and the wet noise pierces his ears.

His mind is going crazy. His cock is getting hard. Your eyes are closed and Sanji knows it's in part because it's hot and because you're enjoying the sweet treat, but part of him wonders if that's what you'd look like after getting fucked by him.

He tries to shake the thoughts away. He can't have one of his episodes right now. But the more he thinks, the more he can see it play out.

Him sitting on the bed, you kneeling down on the floor in front of him while you suck him off.

He's brought back to reality. You're in conversation with Nami, laughing at something she said, while using your tongue sweep over the length of the popsicle. Then using your thump to wipe away some of the stickiness from your lips.

Sanji was hanging by a thread. He abruptly sticks the cigarette back in his mouth and storms off, ignoring Franky's call.

"What's the matter bro?"

Luffy lifts his hat up and shrugs. "Maybe he has a stomach ache."

His cock gets harder with every step he takes. Making a beeline for the bathroom, he rushes in and immediately locks the door. He undos his belt, tugs his pants down, and frees the part of his shirt that was tucked in.

His back is pressed against the wall, head thrown back. His chest heaves with heavy breaths as he squeezes his length. He feels the pangs of a sinful conscious. Nami would punch him into next week if she found out that he had gotten off to the thought of you like this.

Maybe that's what makes it more exhilarating.

His eyes flutter closed and the cig is long gone. It must have fell out when he was coming here. But no matter. His thumbs his tip, spreading his arousal over himself.

"Fuck, love." he breathes. He can see it now. You on your knees with your delicate little hand around his throbbing dick. He feels himself spasm in his hand.

A groan escapes his mouth as his clenched fist begins to move up and down his thick shaft.

He imagines you wrapping your mouth around him. The soft feeling of your cheeks as his tip nudges that little dangly thing in the back of your throat. "Yes, mhm, take it. Such a good girl." he sighs. "Keep sucking for me, just like that. You know how to do it."

His knees are shaking and his dick is throbbing and leaking. He's soaked from his own arousal but so badly wants it to be from your own.

Your pussy. Oh god.

Now he can't stop picturing your swollen lips and pulsing clit. His imagination will be the death of him. The idea of you laying back for him, propping yourself up on your elbows so you can see him, and spreading your thighs.

He gets comfortable and puts a finger in between your soft folds. You're dripping for him. Him.

His hand picks up the pace and feels this tingly sensation in his stomach.

He slaps his tip against your clit a few times. That makes you arch your back as he pushes his way in. The feeling of being stretched makes your walls tighten. He gulps, trying to compose himself. "So fucking tight."

Your pussy squelches with every thrust, breasts are bouncing and nipples erect. You're desperate, begging him for more.

The veins in his head and the muscles in his neck pop. He's a grunting mess. Gritting his teeth, using the stamia he has left to focus. He is too far gone to tease himself.

He now sees you still laying on your back, but you're giving him a handjob. Milking him for all he's got.

"Ugh, fuck!" he cried out, slamming his back against the wall as he cums. It's thick and white and he imagines cumming all over your chest. But in reality, the sticky arousal is all over his hand.

His cock softens in his hand and he breathes to try to calm down. Sanji takes a look at the mess he made, letting out a blissed, fucked out laugh, not even trying to hide the smile on his face.

[brokebonewritings]

Fixing you

Mountain x Fem!Reader

Tags/Warning: 18+, Language, Smut, Fluff

Summary: After a long afternoon of helping Mountain in the garden, he returns the favor by helping you shower until he smells another scent on you.

Word Count: 2.1K

Navigation || Masterlist

A/N: Dedicated to Rachel :)

You walk slowly back through the garden from the lake where you had just been with Swiss. He had begged you relentlessly to show him how to skip rocks and who were you to deny him. For being such a good teacher, he rewarded you by fucking you against the boulder along the lake’s shore.

As you emerge from the quiet, lush foliage in the golden dusk embrace, your heartbeat still echoes in your ears like the rhythm of a plucked harp string. The afterglow of his potent touch leaves you reeling, yet the warm, satisfied sensation fills you with an exhilarating grace.

In the distance you see a large figure walking alongside an elderly Primo. As the figure turns to look at you, you blush madly. Mountain, the earth ghoul, waves to you with one hand as the other holds a large bouquet of flowers. You wave back haphazardly just as Primo turns to see you. He stretches his hand out to you, beckoning you. Changing course, you walk over and happily take his arm.

“Cara, what were you doing out there by yourself.” The old man asks.

“Oh Primo, I was teaching Swiss how to skip rocks.” You respond, and notice Mountain stiffen at the mention of the other ghoul.

"Ah," Primo mutters, glancing at the imposing figure beside him. "Surely you know that it is not safe for you to be alone with that one, no matter how skilled you are with rocks."

Mountain grumbled something under his breath, but remained mostly silent as Primo put his arm around you and guided you back to the greenhouse.

“I have been thinking, Fiore, why don’t you help Mountain out here for the rest of the day?” Primo says as he grabs his bag from the small counter.

“But what about the duties that the Cardinal gave me?” You worry.

“Don’t worry about my silly little fratello. I will tell him our Earth ghoul requested some extra help.” He turns to the tall ghoul. “Take care of her, Mountain.” He requests before leaving the building.

You both stand in silence for a moment before he sets down the bouquet of flowers and walks to you, pressing himself against your chest.

“Did he hurt you?” He asks before brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You shake your head. “No, not that much anyways.”

You hear him growl lowly before turning away. He stalked away from you, leaving a void in your chest where his warmth had previously been. As he walks back to the garden, you follow closely behind him. He stops at an empty plot and he looks up to you.

“We need to plant some vegetables here for the winter.” He announces, voice deep. “I’ll have you watch for now.” 

You are left to watch him work, your curiosity piqued. He moves quickly, glancing back at you occasionally, and soon the soil around the plants is freshly turned and he begins planting seeds with practiced skill.

As you observe him, you realize that there is much more to this ghoul than meets the eye. Though he appears imposing and reserved, there is a gentleness in his movements that you find appealing.

For the remainder of the day, you work alongside Mountain, tending the garden and helping each other as needed. You find a strange comfort in his presence that you have never experienced with anyone else in the ministry.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm golden light over the greenhouse, you and Mountain stood side by side surveying the fruits of your labor. The once empty plot was now filled with neatly planted rows of winter vegetables, a testament to your combined efforts.

You reached out to brush a speck of dirt off his arm, he turned to look at you with eyes that seemed to hold a universe of emotions. Without a word, he took your hand in his, the touch sending shivers down your spine.

In that moment, surrounded by the quiet beauty of nature and the gentle presence of Mountain, you felt a connection deeper than anything you had ever known. It was as if fate had brought you together

“You’re filthy” He says in a whisper.

“Says the ghoul covered in soil”

“Fair point” He ponders. “Would you shower with me?”

You blush at his unexpected question but nod eagerly, feeling a rush of excitement at the thought of being so close to him again. As you both make your way inside the air between you crackles with tension, each step bringing you closer to a moment of intimacy that feels both thrilling and uncertain.

Once inside, you both make your way to the Ghoul den and into Mountain’s room. It was tidy, not like Swiss or Aether’s room. You sit on his arm chair as he goes to prepare the shower. After a few minutes, he calls for you. 

The bathroom is warm and inviting, steam already rising from the running water as Mountain adjusts the temperature. You watch as he undresses, revealing the powerful muscles that lie beneath his gray earth-stained skin.

As you undress and step into the shower beside him, the hot water cascades over your bodies, mingling with the dirt and grime that clings to your skin. Mountain reaches for a bar of soap, his touch surprisingly gentle as he begins to lather it against your back.

The sensation of his hands moving over your skin sends a thrill through you, awakening desires you never knew existed. His proximity is intoxicating, each brush of his body against yours igniting a flame you’ve never felt before. 

You close your eyes, losing yourself in the sensation of his touch and the warmth of the water surrounding you. Mountain's hands move with a purposeful tenderness, washing away not just the physical dirt but also the emotional weight that had settled within you.

As the soap bubbles slip down your skin, you turn to face him, meeting his intense gaze. There is a raw vulnerability in his eyes, a silent plea for understanding that tugs at something deep inside you.

Without a word, you reach out and run your fingers over the ridges of his spine, feeling the tension melt away under your touch. The air between you crackles with unspoken longing, a magnetic pull drawing you closer together.

Slowly, he pulls you towards him, your hearts beating in sync with the rhythm of the falling water. Your lips meet in a kiss that feels like homecoming, your bodies melding together as if they had been made for this moment.

You explore each other's bodies with reverence and desire. The soap slips away, replaced by the slick intimacy of your bodies pressed together, each touch igniting a fire within you that seems to burn brighter with every passing moment.

As the kiss deepens, he trails kisses down your neck before taking a deep inhale and growling against your skin. The grip he has on your lower back tightens as you try to pull away.

“Mounty… What’s wrong?” You ask worriedly.

“You still smell like him.” He growls louder. “Why him?” 

You whimper at the harshness of his tone. “I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking” 

“Well I’m gonna fix that.” He bites against your throat. “I’m gonna fix you.”

Your heart races as you clasp your hands around Mountain's firm shoulders, trying to both push away and pull him closer at the same time.

“Please! Mountain!” You gasp, “I promise I won’t go alone with Swiss anymore!”

He grunts, not seeming appeased by your words. His claws move lower to grip your butt and hoist you up against the shower wall.

“I’ll make sure you never smell like him or Aether ever again.” Mountain growls, his eyes blazing with a mix of possessiveness, lust, and anger. The sheer force of his gaze leaves you breathless and trembling, but also incapable of resisting him.

You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer as he forces his erection right at your entrance. He thrusts into you, hard and fast, his muscles flexing as he takes you roughly against the slick tiled wall. The hot water splatters against your skin, providing a sensual counterpoint to the raw, animalistic nature of the act.

You moan loudly, your head falling back as you let yourself be taken by him. Each thrust is a surge of pleasure, an electric jolt that courses through your veins. You can't help but arch your back, meeting his every move.

Mountain pounds into you, his breath ragged and hoarse. His eyes never leave yours as he continues to thrust. Your body writhes and convulses as he takes you closer and closer to your release.

The room echoes with the sounds of your bodies meeting, the water mingling with the rhythm of your cries and gasps. His teeth graze your skin as he bites down, leaving a mark that will serve as a reminder of this night. The pain is mixed with pleasure, an exquisite blend that sends your senses into overdrive. 

Your hands dig into his back, nails scratching at the surface as the need to be closer, to be one with him, takes hold. The momentum of your lovemaking shifts, Mountain lifting you higher as he continues to thrust into you. One hand holding you tight around your waist while the other arm braces against the shower wall.

You're lost in the intensity when suddenly Mountain lets out a low growl, his eyes widening before they roll back. His body tenses, and you know in that moment that he's claiming you, marking you as his own.

Your body responds instinctively, your own breath growing ragged as the sensation of him inside you seems to grow even more intense. You feel your orgasm building, a fierce heat surging through your body, and you wrap your legs tighter around him, wanting to pull him even closer.

His sweat mingles with the water, creating a scent that's uniquely his, a heady mix of earth and sweat and something indefinable that speaks to your deepest desires.

As you reach the pinnacle of your pleasure, the room seems to shimmer around you. All sound fades away, leaving only the thundering rhythm of your hearts and the echoes of your bodies crashing against one another.

A look of ecstasy overtakes Mountain's features, his eyes locked on yours, his expression raw and unguarded. He thrusts harder and faster until finally a jolt of white-hot pleasure courses through you. 

You cry out, your body arching off Mountain's, your nails digging into his skin as he continues to thrust into you.

The pressure builds within him too, and just as your orgasm crests, Mountain releases a primal growl, his body convulsing against yours. His release envelopes your every sense.

A tremble runs through your body as you feel him fill you. Your body shivers as he pulls out, the water washing away his essence, leaving only the lingering memory of the connection you've just shared.

As your breath returns to normal, your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him close. You kiss him deeply, your bodies still shaking with the aftershocks of your passion.

Slowly, you break the kiss, gazing into his eyes. His lips still parted ever so slightly, as he brushes a hand against your cheek.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks softly.

You smile up at him, “You could never hurt me.”

He smiles back at you. It's clear he's claimed you, and you feel safe and cherished in his arms.

He leads you out of the shower, wrapping you in a large towel as you step onto the cool stone floor.

As you both dry off and dress, the tension between you dissipates, replaced with a newfound sense of intimacy and understanding. Mountain hugs you close, his arms tight around your waist, and you feel a stab of something like relief and gratitude.

He leads you into his bedroom, still wrapped in his embrace, and the two of you lying down on the bed together. He pulls you close, nuzzling his face into your neck, and you can feel his heartbeat against your skin.

“I’m gonna scent you the rest of the night.” He mumbles against your skin.

“I’m gonna reek of you tomorrow though.”

Mountain chuckles softly, holding you closer. "I'll make sure that's not a problem. If anyone comes close, they'll know you're mine."

You nod against his chest, feeling comforted and content. "I like the sound of that."

A gentle kiss presses against your cheek, and he pulls back to look into your eyes. "What do you say we get some rest? We'll have plenty of time to talk when the sun rises."

You smile at him, the weight of the world seemingly lifted off your shoulders. "Sounds like a plan."

As you snuggle up to him, the warm glow of the fireplace casting a fiery hue on the room, you drift off to sleep, scented and claimed by the one who means the most to you.

taglist: @guacam011y @fruityrituals @buckyswebb

join my taglist!

[tvseries-writings]

From a great power comes great responsibilities

Wandanat x Bioquake x Bobbi x reader

Plot: Reader goes beyond her limits with her powers to help others (exhausts her powers)

TW: death for a moment(?)

It all happens so fast that you don't realize it until the building starts collapsing over your heads. You see a chunk of concrete the size of a car fall on top of you, and before your brain can connect, your body acts on instinct, carrying you, Daisy, and Bobbi out of the building. You concentrate on teleporting all three of you, intact, inside the quinjet where Jemma, Natasha and Wanda are running the operation, or at least, were before everything went to hell.

You land on the floor of the plane with a thud, falling forward and coughing hard to expel the dust that has filled your lungs. You glance at your girls making sure they are okay and then, you cross your arms to teleport again but Natasha's hand on your left arm stops you.

"Don’t even think about it, everything is collapsing, you can't teleport in there. It is suicide and you are not going to save anyone if you are dead, do you understand me?"

You swallow, watching the building collapse, and so, with a small smile on your lips, you lean toward Natasha and kiss her. It lasts a few seconds and she is distracted enough to let go of her grip on you.

"I'm sorry but I have to do this," you whisper and then, you close your eyes and feel the earth vanish from under your feet. You focus on the 'one safe place inside the building that you know with absolute certainty will not collapse. The beauty of a secret Hydra base was the bunkers, after all. Those crazy fucking Nazis had thought that sacrificing at least a hundred of their own people was a fair price to pay to take out three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and they had blown up the load-bearing walls of the building with a simple and very trivial click. Nazis, they never change.

When you open your eyes again and realize you are not dead or under some boulder, you gloat internally and mentally thank Natasha for forcing you to learn the floor plan of that base. You remember perfectly her stern look when she had presented you with the mission and forced you to learn every single detail by heart. At that moment you had hated it but now...now you really wanted to kiss her.

You raise your hands in the air when you notice a score of soldiers pointing their guns at you, hiding behind them their "incentives," as Hydra liked to call them. Wives, husbands, children, mothers and fathers hid behind those men and women in black with a crest that did not belong to them.

"It's okay, I just want to get you out of here. I can teleport you all but in multiple groups."

You curse yourself internally, you know you'll never be able to take this much effort, the last time you tried to teleport five people together you fainted and were unconscious for six hours you can't even imagine what would happen with forty, including soldiers and families.

You take a deep breath and think quickly about how you can take everyone out of there. The floor under your feet trembles and just as the children begin to cry, the earpiece in your ear comes alive.

"Y/n, damn it, Daisy can't hold it much longer...you have to get out of there, do you hear me? The structure won't hold much longer" Bobbi yells in your ear and you nod, well aware that she cannot see you, before giving her a verbal response.

"I'm trying honey, thanks for the advice though."

You mumble sarcastically, no longer listening to what your girlfriends are shouting at you over the comms and focusing instead on getting the people in front of you to safety. The soldiers lower their weapons and pull off the bands on your arm, throwing them to the ground.

"Are there others in the base?"

"They're all dead, ma'am" the lieutenant, or who you think is the lieutenant, answers you by looking around as if to confirm what she just said. Your stomach clenches at the thought of all those people who died for a cause they didn't even believe in but you quickly shake off that feeling, you don't have time for it. You quickly count them, noting that there are twenty-five of them before thinking about how to get them all out of there safely.

"So… I can take all the children outside."

You point to the little ones; some of them are crying while others are looking at you with wide, fearful eyes but charged with the same admiration and hope with which a child looks at his favorite superhero. There are nine children but you can make it, they are worth four times one adult, right? You can even take four adults with you, then; you have to do it, you won't have the strength to make three more trips, you are sure.

You gather them around you and have each of them touch arms or legs, depending on where their little hands reach, and do the same with the four women, two old and two young, who accompany them. As they say, women and children first.

"Y/n, we have set up a camp out here, four hundred meters from the base in a southwesterly direction."

-What the hell is the South?" you think, before shrugging your shoulders and closing your eyes. The feeling of the floor vanishing beneath your feet is not something you will ever get used to, if you have to be honest. You hear the children scream, whether from excitement or fear you can't tell, and then, in less than a second, you find yourself at that poorly set up base camp Jemma told you about a few seconds ago. A little dizziness forces you to lean on the ground, on the hot sand beneath you, and small drops of blood color the grains beneath your fingers. You raise your hand, reaching up your nose and finding the source of the bleeding. Children are being rounded up by an officer but you fail to recognize him as your girlfriends run toward you. Jemma has a first aid kit in her hand, but before she can set about playing cheerful surgeon with you, you scan to the side, staggering on your own feet.

"I'm fine, I've got to get back in there."

"You can't stand y/n, you can't-"

You frown, noticing only in that moment that Daisy is not there with all of you.

"Where's Dee?"

"She fainted, tried to absorb as many shocks as possible. She's collapsed y/n and that's also what's going to happen to you if you continue, you're already in a very bad way."

Jemma lifts your head, causing your gazes to cross and looking critically at your pupils and the nosebleed that doesn't seem to have any intention of stopping coming out. You back away a few steps, looking into their eyes.

"Go to Daisy, I'll take care of this," you say and then disappear again.

You repeat the same process as before, surrounding yourself with six soldiers and watching the remaining six.

"I will come back for you, I promise."

And as you disappear into thin air, another tremor shakes the ground.

The landing is more abrupt this time. Your heart beats so weakly that you feel as if oxygen is not getting to your brain. Contrary to what you expected, Natasha grabs you by the arms before your face can splat on the scorching sand. You struggle to stay awake and if so out that you don't even notice Daisy, pale, sweaty, and trembling, over the shoulders of the former Russian spy. You blink a few times to focus on the image in front of you and finally the sounds reach your ears again.

"Y/N!"

Natasha shakes you by the shoulders and you awaken from your stupor. The worried gazes of Wanda, Jemma, Daisy, Natasha and Bobbi are fixed on you as Natasha gently lays you on the ground and Jemma places a bottle of water on your lips, helping you drink it. As soon as you remember where you are, you try to sit up but Daisy stops you, simply putting a hand on your chest to keep you down.

"I'm-I'm fine, mm-missing six people-D-I have to an-go."

You stammer, the effort you've put in doesn't even make you able to utter a coherent and clea sentence. Another jolt shakes the floor beneath your feet and Daisy groans in pain, bringing her hands to her head and squeezing her eyes shut. That small advantage allows you to roll over and with an absurd effort you manage to get to your feet and disappear back under their gazes.

When you get to the bunker, the first thing you do is fall to your knees and throw up. You completely empty your stomach under the disgusted gaze of the six soldiers in front of you. You wipe your mouth with your suit, wrinkling your nose at the disgusting taste of vomit in your mouth and leaning against the wall to pull yourself up without passing out. You must hold on a little longer, just a little, and then you can collapse to the ground.

The six soldiers surround you-diligently avoiding the pool of vomit on the ground and the blood that keeps coming out of your nose-and in a moment you are out.

As soon as you hit the sand, you sprawl to the ground. Your cheek scrapes against the sand and this time Natasha is not quick enough to catch you. Jemma drops to her knees next to you, turns you so that your face is facing her but your eyes are closed. She checks your chest and when she notices that the latter does not rise or fall, she checks your pulse before a gasp of terror and fear escapes her lips.

"Bobbi, adrenaline and defibrillator. Now!"

Natasha tilts your head back, her eyes glazed over as she opens your mouth and blows air into your lungs. Jemma begins compressions.

1,2,3,4,5

Nat puts air into your lungs and your chest rises and falls once before falling back inert. Wanda's sobs and Jemma's barely stifled ones are the only sound before a crack makes your girls nauseous.

"It's okay, it happens during compressions," Jemma's voice trembles as she says it and then, she performs another round of compressions. Your arms burn but that pain is nothing compared to the dull ache that is burning in your chest at that moment.

1,2,3,4,5

Natasha forces your chest up again and then Bobbi arrives with defibrillator and adrenaline in hand. She is sweating and her heart is racing. She has never run so fast in her entire life.

"Bobbi, take my place."

Jemma continues with compressions, then, on her go, Bobbi gets in place and follows her own rhythm.

"Come on rockstar, it's not your time yet, come on."

Bobbi's breath barely hides the tremor in her voice but not the tears that line her cheeks. It takes two defibrillator shocks before your heart starts beating again.

"Oh my God" Wanda bursts into tears, leaning over your face and gently kissing your forehead, brushing a few strands of sweaty hair off your face.

"Good, you did great love" Natasha whispers, taking your hand in her own as Bobbi laughs from relief.

Daisy instead stands by, frowning, and Jemma is the first to notice.

"Dee, what's wrong?"

Daisy looks at you and then, nods.

"Something's wrong, her heart, it doesn't have the usual vibes, non-"

And then, your heart stops beating again.

"Fuck, Bobbi give me the adrenaline."

Jemma Simmons never swears but there are always exceptions.

Jemma performs two more rounds of compressions before injecting adrenaline into your chest. She hooks you up to one of the monitors that Fitz had devised a few months earlier, at the request of the biochemist, for just such situations, and when he sees that the line remains flat, his heart, too, seems to stop for a few seconds.

Your body is shaken by the shock emitted by the defibrillator; it arches upward and then falls back to the sand as hard as a puppet whose strings have been suddenly dropped. The line remains flat and Jemma's tears now gush without limit.

"No no, Jem you have to try again. She can't, she can't..."

Wanda bursts into tears, looking at your lifeless body lying on the ground. Natasha punches the ground with such force that the crack that can be heard echoing cannot mean anything good. Bobbi cries as she takes the former Russian spy's hand and gives her a look. Anything not to think about what just happened.

"No, it doesn't end like that."

"Daisy...she-"

Daisy takes your lifeless body in her hands, shaking it by the shoulders.

"Do you understand me? You can't fucking die, you can't. You promised us, you stubborn idiot, you promised us!"

The Inhuman hits your chest hard, her fist closed, and without her really being able to control what she's doing, a powerful jolt goes through your chest and crashes against the ground, creating a small crack beneath you, and then, the flat line of the monitor disappears, replaced by regular little roller coasters.

"W-what?" Daisy whispers, sitting on the floor suddenly much more tired than before from the effort she has just made. Jemma hurries to personally check your pulse and when she feels the pulse under her fingers, a shuddering breath of joy leaves her lips.

"I...I think your tremors got her heart beating again Dee."

Jemma does not detach her fingers from your wrist, lulling herself into the sweet sensation of your heartbeat, albeit weak. Wanda covers her face, bursting into tears, and the other girls also let out a liberating cry, releasing all the tension and fear they had felt up to that moment.

...................................................................................................

Your body takes five days to heal just enough to open your eyes. You realize you are in the Quinjet's medical capsule within seconds, by now you have been there so many times over the years that you know the smallest details: the familiar beeping sound of your heartbeat, the red button to call Jemma just below the lamp behind the back of the bed, the IV that feeds drugs into your veins, and the glass from which Jemma checks that you are not doing anything the doctor has forbidden you to do. A little unfair of her since she is the doctor. You feel as if a truck has hit you and then a car has run over you to complete the job. You raise your hand to scratch your nose but the oxygen mask prevents you from doing so so you squeeze it between your fingers to remove it but just as you are about to do so, a hasty knock against the clear glass causes you to smile a small smile of exasperation. Even before you turn around, in fact, you already know that you will see your beautiful doctor on the other side. To your surprise, however, she is not alone.

"You just woke up and already you want to take off your mask, I have no words really. Who is the doctor here? You have to do what I tell you if you want to get better, between you and Dais I really don't know who is worse."

Jemma admonishes you and you blush, feeling like a child being scolded by his parents.

"Hey, what do I have to do with this now?" Daisy pouts before slinging herself into your arms. You can't help but notice that his forearm is completely bandaged. When he notices where your gaze points, the Inhuman shrugs.

"It was worth it."

She slides the mask off your face, kissing you with so much passion and love that it leaves you breathless for a few seconds before the Inhuman promptly rushes to slip the mask back over your face.

"You scared us malyshka" Natasha approaches you and her plastered hand makes you frown. The Russian blushes, and for some reason you realize you don't really need to ask her how she broke her hand. Wanda caresses your cheek, leaving a tender kiss on your forehead.

"How are you feeling detka?"

"I'm just a little tired but I'm fine; exactly what happened?"

Their faces darken and that joy you had seen quickly fades.

"You collapsed, your heart couldn't take the strain, and we had to revive you twice." Bobbi's voice trembles as she says this and you reach out your hand toward her; the blonde grabs it and intertwines your fingers, turning a small smile to you.

"You were really a rockstar but if you do that again, I think we might actually kill you."

"Oh yes, don't think we haven't thought about what punishment to give you. Besides not being able to use your powers for at least four months-"

"What? Four months? But that's an eternity-" you jerk back to your seat, removing your mask and immediately regretting it as your vision blurs and the pain in your ribs increases exponentially, so much so that you lean to the right and vomit into the only thing you can grab.

Jemma strokes your back while Wanda holds your hair as you empty the meager contents of your stomach. As soon as you finish, you are so weak that dizziness takes over and your head falls back forward. If it weren't for Wanda, your face would be splattered against the floor. Jemma casts a glance at the heart monitor, and the value it reads makes your heart beat so fast you're afraid your chest might explode. She puts on your oxygen mask and then checks your vitals again.

Your pupils roll back, and as you fall helpless into Wanda's arms, the Sokovian panics a little.

"Hey, hey, detka wake up."

Wanda taps your cheeks but the only thing that changes is the further lowering of your heart rate.

"Jem, what's going on?" Daisy strokes your face, putting her hand on your chest to check your heart vibrations.

Jemma rummages through the drawers of the medical capsule and then, at the fifth drawer she ravages for something, she finally finds what she is looking for. In her hands she clutches a small glass case, inside which she glimpses a metal disk less than three centimeters in diameter and less than two centimeters thick.

As soon as she sees this, Bobbi cuts off your suit exposing your bare chest except for the three electrodes and the black bra you are wearing.

Jemma places the diskette on top of your left breast, just above your sternum, and presses the button above it. The disc blends in with your skin, being invisible to the human eye, and your body jerks, before your heartbeat returns to normal. The small jolt causes you to open your eyes and grimace in pain.

"What the hell-" you mutter, reaching out to massage your chest but Jemma stops you before you can.

"Hey, your heart rate was extremely low and I had to put a pacemaker on you. It's not invasive, Fitz designed one that blends in perfectly and doesn't give any problems whatsoever but you'll have to avoid EMPs but you can't take it off love, okay? I think the effort you put in was such that it damaged your heart, and without a peacemaker you could have another heart attack so until we find another solution and until we have done more tests, you can't use your powers."

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut as fatigue takes over.

"Rest now, we're here malyshka."

Natasha leaves a kiss in your hair while Daisy leaves one on your cheek. Jemma dims the lights to allow you to rest and Wanda lies next to you in the crib while Bobbi closes the glass curtains facing outward to give you all some privacy as you fall into dreamland surrounded by your girls.

You don't know it yet but one of those children you saved is going to become one of the best agents S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever had so maybe a slightly battered heart is worth it.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Leave like, comment and if you like support me on ko-fi. Have a great day!

Taglist: @wandanatsbaby @bioquake-archives @bioquakeweek @daisyjohnsonx @wandanatsgirlfriend @chaekhan @station19 @resilientpendragon @so-no-kissing-then @thearchpitbullmx @ashadash0904 @kingshitonly @alwaysgoodnight @callistic @xjule @yuleni18 @simpforwandanat @alexxislexi @mrsdanversromanoff @coollemonsaresour @hushed-woodsman @razorscooteer @eponine-xx @maniacallinc @michelle170 @classyig @elenaguarnieri @scarletwidow @tati3001 @cristin-rjd @your-my-mission @mr-nicely @hi-i-1 @anniethurs @ktstwice @scarlet-raccoon @maria-403 @goldfishthegr8 @wandanatfan @looiegirl-blog @bioquake-blog @daisyjohnsonx

[libraryofgage]

PJO Steddie Eight

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven

This series was line-jumped on ko-fi! Thank you for the ko-fis <3

To learn more about line-jumping, please refer to this post

Anyway, another series was also line-jumped and I'm hoping to have that one posted by this time next week as long as life doesn't take me out lmao

as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't :^)

-----

Steve is an awful, horrible, terrible person. Not only did he kiss Eddie without making sure it was okay, but he even spent the entire fight before that wrapping lightning around Eddie. He even let his control slip enough to shock Eddie when he was too distracted by lips and teeth and tongue. Worst of all, he can't stop thinking about it, his fingers twitching every so often with the urge to find Eddie and kiss him until they're both stupid. 

What's he supposed to do in this situation? Talk to Eddie like he's an emotionally mature person capable of communicating his thoughts and feelings? Steve would laugh at the thought if he weren't so busy sulking by the lake. 

It's a nice night for a sulk. The moon is full, its reflection wavering in the water that gently laps against the shore. He can barely hear the victory celebration around the bonfire, singing and laughter and joyful white noise drifting through the trees behind him. Steve lets it wash over him, his chin on his knees as he stares blankly at the water and tries to figure out what he's doing with his life.

“I gotta admit, that is some impressive sulking.”

Steve jolts, twisting around to see a man in cut-off shorts and a crop top lounging on a boulder next to him. The man looks chiseled, but not overly buff, with his arms being the most defined. His skin is a deep brown, and his smile is blinding. He appeared out of nowhere, and if that didn't give away his godliness, the bow and heart-tipped arrows would have.

“Eros,” Steve says, forcing his shoulders to relax. “What are you doing here?”

“Not even a hello? Am I not pretty enough for you right now?” Eros asks.

“Hello, Eros. What are you doing here?”

That earns him a laugh, the sound lingering in Steve's ears and trying to worm its way into his brain. “Fair enough,” Eros says, idly twirling one of his arrows between his fingers. “I’m here on my mother’s behalf, actually.”

Steve tenses, studying Eros with renewed suspicion. “What does Aphrodite want?” he asks.

“You know Mother and her wagers,” Eros replies, shrugging when he meets Steve’s gaze. “She’s sent me to make sure she wins it. Her wager, that is. The one about you and a certain son of Hermes.”

That does absolutely nothing to assuage Steve’s worries. In fact, it makes them stronger. He pushes himself up, brushing pebbles and dirt off his jeans. “I hope you’re not planning to use your arrows.”

Eros blinks, looking from Steve to the arrow he’s been twirling. And then he laughs again, nearly doubling over. “No, no, I wouldn’t waste an arrow on you two. Puh-lease, Sparky, give me a little more credit than that.”

“Sparky?”

“Isn’t it fitting?” Eros asks, flashing a shit-eating grin that still manages to come off as charming. Steve would call it impish and mischievous, if someone asked him. Thankfully, nobody is. “Anyway, no, consider this more of a friendly nudge so Mother doesn’t throw a fit.”

“What are you even trying to nudge me about?” Steve asks. He thinks he’s lost the plot somewhere between Eros showing up and getting called Sparky. 

Eros sighs and looks up at the sky like the stars will help him. “I usually enjoy watching people dance around each other, but I’d greatly appreciate it if you and Eddie could start dancing with each other now. Preferably starting tonight. Selene has given you a particularly beautiful moon to work with, you know.”

Steve looks up at the moon for less than a second, but that’s more than enough for Eros to be gone by the time he looks back. He sighs, frowning at the vacant boulder.

He isn’t stupid. He knows what Eros was getting at. The thought is just terrifying, is all. He doesn’t trust himself to not hurt Eddie. Just being around Eddie makes his fingertips buzz with energy, and his control has slipped more in the past few weeks than ever before. Eddie might say he doesn’t mind or that he trusts Steve, but the problem is that Steve doesn’t trust himself.

That fact just frustrates him more. He frowns, runs a hand through his hair, and sits down on the boulder. Steve would love to just throw caution to the wind. He’d love to just hope for the best and hold Eddie’s hand and not worry about things. But that’s not the kind of person he is. Steve does what’s best for those around him, he works himself into a frenzy thinking about their safety, and doesn’t hesitate to sacrifice himself in the process.

It’s probably not healthy, but it’s kept him and the kids alive and mostly happy, and that’s what really matters. 

Right?

Right.

But gods is that tiring. Maybe...maybe he can be a tiny bit selfish. He won't throw caution to the wind, but maybe he can test the waters. And if nothing explodes on him, he can see where it goes.

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

Eddie is almost impressed by how well Steve can avoid a person when he puts his mind to it. He hasn’t seen a glimpse of the other boy since he ran off. And it’s not for lack of trying, either. Eddie has practically scoured the camp from top to bottom as everyone else helped set up the Victory Bonfire. 

He ultimately decides that searching like this is pointless, so he finds a scrap of paper in his tent and folds it into an airplane. He writes Steve’s name on one wing and doodles a guitar and bat on the other before sending it flying. It’s not the flashiest power a demigod can receive from their parent, but Eddie has never been happier to have it as he follows.

The paper airplane leads him past the huge bonfire, skirts around the woods, and really starts to pick up speed as it gets closer to the lake. A wave of relief surges through Eddie when he sees a familiar figure past the tree line. Before the plane can zoom onto the rocky beach, Eddie snatches it from the air and shoves it into his pocket. 

Steve is sitting on a boulder by the lake, knees pulled up to his chest as he stares out at the water. For a moment, Eddie gets the feeling he’d like to just sink into the water and disappear for a while. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea if Steve was a Poseidon kid, but he’s more likely to drown than find peace as a son of Zeus. 

Eddie hesitates, wondering if he should interrupt, when Steve looks over his shoulder at him and says, “Hey.”

That’s all the invitation Eddie needs for tension to drain from his shoulders as he walks over. “Hey,” he says, climbing the rock to sit next to Steve. They’re not close enough for their shoulders to brush, but a small lean is all it would take. “You’re missing out on some legendary s’mores at the bonfire.”

Steve snorts, propping his chin on his knees. He’s silent for a few seconds before whispering, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Stevie, I’m fine,” Eddie promises, leaning forward so he can get a better look at Steve’s expression. His eyebrows are pulled together, and Eddie has to suppress the urge to rub his thumb over the wrinkle that forms between them. “You didn’t actually hurt me, you know.”

“You were surrounded by lightning, Eddie,” Steve says, frowning at him. “You probably have a burn somewhere you can’t see. It couldn’t have been good for your heart, either.”

No, it probably wasn’t good for Eddie’s heart, but not for the reason Steve is worrying about. Eddie got too excited fighting with Steve; the lightning that crackled and arched between them made his adrenaline surge. For the first time, he actually enjoyed combat instead of dreading it.

“Well, let’s check,” he says, sliding off the boulder. Before Steve can question him, he shrugs off his vest and yanks his shirt over his head. He holds his arms out to the side and looks at Steve expectantly. “Go ahead.”

A few seconds pass before Steve gets off the rock and moves to stand behind him. Eddie can feel Steve’s eyes passing over every inch of his back, searching meticulously for any signs of lightning-related injury. When a few silent minutes pass without finding anything, Steve stands in front of him to continue his search.

Eddie gets to watch him in return this time. Steve’s lips press together when he’s concentrating, his eyebrows twitching and shifting with whatever thoughts are passing through his head. He stands with one hand on his hip, the other hovering as though he wants to brush his fingers across any suspected bruises. 

“See?” Eddie says, “All good. You didn’t hurt me, Stevie.”

A few seconds pass before Steve slowly exhales and nods, tension draining from his shoulders. “What about your heart?” he asks, glancing at Eddie’s chest. 

It’s such a perfect invitation, isn’t it? Eddie would be a fool to not take advantage, right? He’s not always the smoothest demigod in camp, but even he can see the perfect moment in front of him.

He grins and takes Steve’s hand, bringing it to his chest. He places Steve’s palm over his heart. “What do you think?” he asks.

Steve frowns, tilting his head slightly. “Your heart is beating faster,” he says, looking up with concern clear in his eyes.

“That’s not because of lightning, sweetheart.”

Eddie feels the exact moment Steve understands what he means. It’s the moment his control slips just enough for a tiny spark to pass from palm to chest. It makes Eddie’s skin prickle as he grins. 

“Sorry,” Steve whispers, trying to pull his hand away.

Eddie holds tighter, stepping closer until Steve is leaning against the boulder with nowhere to go. “I like when you shock me. It doesn’t hurt. It tingles, but it doesn’t hurt. In fact, it felt good when you kissed me,” he says.

“I’m sorry about that, too,” Steve says, grimacing as he looks at the lake over Eddie’s shoulder. “I didn’t…I should’ve asked.”

“That’s okay,” Eddie tells him, leaning in until their noses are almost brushing. 

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, Stevie. In case you couldn’t tell by now, I like like you. Since the moment I saw you, really.”

Steve blinks, and then he starts laughing. “Really? Like like? What, are we in middle school?” he asks.

“You can’t knock the simplicity of the middle school confession, sweetheart. It’s got no room for misunderstanding.”

With an amused eye roll, Steve says, “Sure, if you say so.” He’s still smiling, his gaze focused on Eddie now instead of the lake. A faint blush has colored his cheeks. “In that case, I like like you, too.”

Eddie grins. “Does that mean I can kiss you now?”

In answer, Steve places his free hand on Eddie’s shoulder and tugs him the last few inches closer. Their lips connect, a tiny static shock passing between them and making Eddie shudder. He pushes closer before Steve can pull away, trapping Steve’s hand between them and bracing himself on the boulder. 

The kiss starts and stays slow, a gentle push and pull. Eddie would be happy if it never ended, but Steve pulls away after a few seconds. "You're sure?" he asks.

"Yeah, Stevie, I'm sure," Eddie promises, studying him for a moment before pulling back and leading Steve away from the boulder. "Wanna dance?"

"There's no music," Steve says.

"Who cares?" Eddie asks, tugging Steve closer. He watches Steve glance up at the moon, hesitating for a few seconds before nodding. "Just follow my lead."

Steve smiles, letting Eddie lead him along the beach, dancing to music he can't hear.

------

Tag List

@mugloversonly, @mentallyundone, @hairdryerducks-blog, @carriethesaint, @lunabyrd,

@weekend-dreamer7, @farfaras, @littlelady03, @my-tears-are-becoming-a-sea20, @mogami13,

@a-little-unsteddie, @itsall-taken, @queenie-ofthe-void, @tinyplanet95, @littlebluejane,

@hangoversandhandgrenades, @rabbitwhoeatsstars, @bisexualdisastersworld, @steddieinthesun, @paintgonewrong,

@sadcanadianwinter, @deehellcat, @blanketlicker, @angrydonutdestiny, @booksareportal,

@fallingchemicaldiscos, @am-i-obssed-probably, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @estrellami-1, @fandomcartographer,

@steddie-as-they-go, @cris-wants-a-word, @potato-of-the-lord, @plasticcrotches, @enigmahaze,

@melodymeddler, @lololol-1234, @sageclipse, @steddiehyperfixation, @livelaughlexa,

@genderless-spoon, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @r0binscript, @thelittleclare, @blondie1006,

@bxnghy

[holrye]

A love she can't have

summary: a window into the sacred nights of a small island kingdoms queen and her lover

tags: plot divergence, smut, fluff, light angst, yearning, implied chubby reader (section is tiny)

a/n: ahhhh, so I'm super nervous to post this, lol. Im not the most confident in my writing, and I've been working on the idea for this for so long. tbh I don't know if I like how it turned out. I made so many different versions, and this is the only one that stuck. I hope you guys like it :)

One night, every six or seven months, the estate of this small island kingdom is empty.

No bustling of maids and butlers as they prepare meals and clean. The orange hue of the lights inside are dimmed and the sheer curtains are often drawn.

A tradition, some would call it. Others would say it's strange. What could the young ruler do all to her lonesome up in that immense estate? Does she force her staff to leave for nefarious reasons? What secrets could she be hiding? All fair questions that will go unanswered for as long as you live. 

Privacy as the ruler of a nation is somewhat expected to wane upon your coronation. The kings and queens before you knew this, and were mindful of it. But never has a ruler taken so many precautions as you on these particular nights. These nights were often random to the public as well, the only sign being when the staff are ushered from the large french doors at the estates entrance. 

What could the diligent leader be cooping herself up for?

Oh, if they only knew…

If your people only knew that their queen was hiding a scandalous affair, with a pirate no less. What would people think? They’d say you’d gone insane, and were seduced by some horrid marauder. You’d lose every ounce of power you gained and be left to fend for yourself. Not a thing to your name other than the clothes on your back, they’d raid the estate and denounce you. 

So, these nights are secret. Whispers between you and your midnight guest that never leave the halls of the estate.

Though the guest in question is far less worried about the conspicuousness of your meetings. Not because he lacks care for your reputation, but because some would say he's a bit obtuse. A fool in love with someone he should never associate with.

-

You only become aware of his visits hours before he arrives, leaving you little time to fruitfully convince your entire staff to leave. Though it sounds unchallenging, your estate employs hundreds of people. Gardeners, chefs, handmaids, every task you could do yourself is done for you, mostly at the behest of your late mother who ruled before you. 

There's only so many excuses you can use without sounding suspicious. You want them to spend the night with their families or you’d like the estate to yourself or you had an awful mark on your back you didn’t want anyone to see as you bathed (that last one only made your head maid look at you worried). 

By now, they’d chalked it up to your eccentricity. The queen is just a bit strange. It made you more likable to some, relatable. There was little judgment, at least to your face, though that too was likely because of your rank. You cared little, as long as they were all gone before he blew in. 

He usually arrived just before midnight, his boat tied just off shore. A small cove sat behind your estate, sharp boulders and thick shrubbery concealing it. This is where he hides his vessel, only doing so after it was nearly found the morning after by a gardener. 

You scolded him harshly in your letters through the following months.

You’d wait on your bedroom balcony, watching the bushes. Sitting at the small table, eagerly stirring your cup of tea and waiting. Your feet are bare, cold from the breeze and the stone underfoot. 

The chill of soft trepidation is a feeling you’ve come to know since you met him. An almost nauseous feeling in your stomach, stiff cold limbs, a heavy chest. The months worth of built up suspense that has you on the edge, tempting you to jump.

Only when a hint of tanned skin is seen through the leaves, does your chest tighten. The bush moves again and his body pushes through, nearly falling to the grass. He catches himself before looking up to your balcony.

A smile stretches his freckled cheeks, and his feet are moving again.

You stand, gulping the last drink from your cup before hastily fixing yourself. Crickets and his heavy breaths as he climbs up the balcony are the only noise throughout the garden. It seemingly makes your heart pound faster, anticipation building in your belly. 

With a few more pulls, the man hops over the banister and stands before you. A shallow and shaky breath leaves your nose. Months of letters, declarations of love and yearning built up to this meeting. It always feels like the first time, standing before him in your frilly nightgown. It's embarrassing and euphoric all at once.

“Long time, no see.” His voice is soft, smile apparent as he speaks.

You smile up at him, blush dusting your cheeks.

“Hello, my love.” Your voice is softer than you mean it to be. He moves a step closer, and you notice the small bundle of letters in his hand. They’re addressed to him and the handwriting is your soft cursive. You question his purpose in bringing them, but don’t ask. 

“Have you eaten?” You ask. It’s a silly question now that you think about it, the man is known for his appetite.

He nods, still smiling as he moves closer again. His hand meets your arm, slowly sliding up to lay against your neck. The movement is soft, his thumb caressing your jaw as he looks at you. 

Your arms move to his shoulders, broad and strong. They slip to the back of his neck, dark, wet hair matting to your hand. He smells of salt water and sweat. He likely had to snow to shore due to high tide, which completely engulfed the cove most nights.

His eyes droop, as he presses a hungry kiss to your lips. It has you curling into him, his full hand meeting your hip. His feet start to move you backward, against the cold stone wall behind you. His hand moves from your jaw to the space beside your head, stealing your breath as he kisses you. Your hands twist into his hair, keeping him there until you both break with a gasp. 

He moves his hand to your lower back, pulling you into him again only for you to press a palm to his mouth. His eyebrows twist as he looks at you.

“I have some things inside for you.” You say, cocking your head to the left.

“Of course you do.” He smiles at you again.

-

Your bedroom, a large rounded room with a bed much too big for one, is lit with hundreds of candles. Two bottles of champagne sit unopened on the table in the middle of the room with two glasses sat to the side. An array of cheeses, bread and fruit sit on a plate to the side as well.

The bedspread is soft below you, your eyes glued to the liquid in the flute as you listen to Ace read your writing. Your hand wrapped around his wrist and your head rests against his hip as his voice nearly soothes you to sleep. You want to make a bed out of his tambre and sleep in it forever.

“I fear the selfishness I feel when you aren’t in my company. I cower at the thought of it boiling over and taking hold of me, interfering in my daily work. I yearn so much for the day I can be with you, freely, without the need to veil our flirtation. To think, I rule a nation as a queen. I wield power most only dream of, and yet I feel powerless in your absence. It nearly sickens me.” He pauses, looking at you over the parchment. 

“A kiss would satiate me for the time being. I soft kiss that speaks your tenor and goes by your name. I look forward to when we meet again, my love. May that heavenly time come soon.” He ends it by saying your signature out loud. He folds that paper again, placing it back in its envelope. 

The look on your face is melancholic, thinking back to the sadness you felt writing those letters to him. How much you missed him and what you would’ve done to see him at the time. It's embarrassing, listening to the heart you poured into the paper for him out loud.

He looks at you again, hand moving to the top of your head. He plays with the hair there, the comfortable silence taking the place of his voice.

“Is Edward well? I heard his health started declining again.” You ask, sipping from your glass again.

He nods, smile fading slightly as he speaks again.

“Yeah, the old man shouldn’t work himself as hard as he does. It's catching up to him.” Whitebeard was an acquaintance of your father, often meeting him for peace treaty signings. Even as a pirate, he’d earned your fathers respect.

“Hardworking as ever.” You smile.

He smiles as you sit up, finishing your glass off and setting it upon the bedside table. 

“You're one to talk, your highness.” He chuckles, extending his arm for you to lay against his chest.

“Ruling a kingdom is a lot of work. I do what I have to do. You’d think being a pirate, he’d use more of his free time being…free.” You say. A soft laugh leaves his chest as he nods his head.

“You’d think.” His voice evens out again as he looks down at you.

Your hand moves to cup his cheek, holding it there for a moment. It’s warm. Everything about Ace is. Whether it be his devil fruit or his personality. He warms your heart in a way you’ve never felt before. It makes it harder when you have to watch him leave, his broad form disappearing in the bushes. You’d say goodbye to him with tears in your eyes as he kissed your lips and abandon that warmth until you saw him again.

“You're so beautiful.” You don’t mean to say it out loud, biting your lip when your mouth speaks before you catch yourself. His lips quirk, eyes half-massed as he gazes at you.

“I could say the same about you, sweetheart.” He chuckles.

The room goes quiet again.

He takes your hand in his, pressing your palm to his lips. It's soft and he keeps moving up your arm, to your shoulder. He pauses a moment before looking at you again. 

“Is this okay?” He asks, kissing your shoulder again. A blush brightens your cheeks. You know what he's asking.

With a dry swallow, you nod and he smiles for the millionth time tonight. He climbs on top of you, moving from your collar bone up to your neck. Your hands move to his head, grasping the hair there at the sensation. He kisses the section just below your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

A throaty chuckle falls from him as he starts his descent of your body. A kiss pressed to your collarbone, a kiss to your sternum, a kiss to your belly, it's all too much. His hands meet your hips, bunching the fabric of your dress slightly. He moves down, pressing soft kisses to the middle of your thighs.

“You're so soft.” He says, smiling into your sensitive skin. You sigh, wanting nothing more than for him to ravish you like he’s done so many times before. His hands bunch at the end of your skirt, slowly pulling it up inch by tantalizing inch. It's enough anticipation to make you sick. 

He raises the hem to your hips, your lacy undergarments showing. You sit up as he pulls it off of you, your breasts bouncing as they fall. He kisses your lips again, before laying you down on the bed again. Your knees press together, a familiar warmth swirling through your gut and into your core.

His hands land on your hips, softly squeezing the skin that lightly hangs over your panties. Your breath catches when he kneels at the edge of your bed, looping his fingers into your underwear and slipping them down your thighs.

He exhales loudly, seemingly holding his breath before. He takes your knees over his shoulders, nipping at the fat of your thighs. A long stripe from your inner thigh to your groin has you shaking. His hands move to yours scrunched up in the blankets, lacing your fingers together.

A slow lick to your clit leaves you breathless, eyes shutting as you squeeze his hands. 

“You taste so good.” it's muffled by your skin, but you understand him. He licks you again, softly sucking your clit into his mouth. 

His mouth is so warm and wet, it has you in a euphoric state. This feeling only he can give you, one that you want to feel forever. Making love to Ace felt otherworldly, no matter how many times you did it.

“Ace..ah-” Your voice is caught in your throat, his tongue moving down to your hole.

“Yes, my love?” His tone is mocking, as if demanding you answer him. Your lips are raw, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth as you try to speak.

Words fail you, one of your hands moving from his, to his head. Leverage.

He hums into you, slipping his tongue in and out of you a few times before replacing it with his finger. His mouth moves back to your clit and your seeing stars, the blinding white matching the pace of the growing knot in your stomach.

“Ace-” You sigh as your muscles tense up. Your orgasm hits you in waves, leaving your thighs shaking around his face. He sucks the soft skin around your pussy as you come down, hands moving to your thighs.

“Mm, baby…” He says, his voice hoarse as he moves up to your face. Your skin is sticky, hair sticking to your face and palms sweating. He kisses you, the heady taste of yourself on his tongue. Your hands move to his face, draping your arms around his neck.

With little hesitation, he reaches for the buckle of his shorts, dropping them and climbing on top of you. You lift your legs, wrapping them around his hips. 

“You ready?” He asks, and you nuzzle your nose into his. With a huff, he’s pushing in and the both of you sigh loudly at the contact. His movements start slow, smooth.

His hips meet yours and your eyes go white. His hand rests next to your head, his thrusts making his bicep flex a bit. It makes you drool, pressing a kiss to his wrist as he evens out his pace.

“You feel so good…hah-” His breathing is erratic and his other hand moves to the fold of your knee. Your head falls back, moans leaving you otherwise speechless. It feels so good, you can’t move.

His pace picks up, quickening as both of you approach your highs. Your breathing is stunted and your eyes are clenched shut. Ace moves his face to the crook of your neck, licking a strip up to your chin. Everything is perfect.

“I love you.” You say, looking him in the eyes. You swear you feel his cock throb inside you.

“I love you too, your highness.” He smirks.

With two or three deep thrusts, he’s finishing inside you. You scream, voice breaking when you finally cum again. He thrusts a couple more times, only pulling out when his cock stops throbbing. Your pussy clenches around nothing, his cum dripping out of you onto the pristine sheets. 

He falls into the empty space next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist as you clench your thighs together again. The aftershocks leave you drowsy and you roll in to his chest, drifting to sleep.

-

You don’t wake again until the early morning the next day. Ace is awake, his warm hands brushing through your hair. Your eyes scrunch at the brightening horizon before looking back at him.

“You sleep ok?” He asks.

You nod, kissing his jaw before rising to stretch. He rubs a hand down your back and gets out of bed.

Mornings after he visits are melancholy, knowing the inevitable has come to pass yet again. He’ll leave you for another period of time unknown to him or you. Your letters will be the only form of communication you'll have for months. It’s all a bit too much to bear.

You rise, hugging him from behind as he puts his clothes back on. Freckles decorate his back and shoulders and you want to count every one of them.

Before you know it, you stand looking up at him on your balcony wrapped in a sheet. His kiss is as warm as ever, not wanting to leave. You hold him there for a while, tears nearly forming in your eyes already.

“I’ll see you soon.” You nearly whimper. He wipes your eyes with his thumbs, smiling at you. 

“I’ll keep you in my thoughts, my love.” He smiles and you remember your gift you still have to give him.

“Wait!” You say, scurrying inside and grabbing a small locket off of your vanity. You hand it to him, and he opens it.

“Keep it close to your heart.” You say. The picture inside is of you, and it warms his heart. A smile creases his eyes as kisses you again. He kisses your cheeks and your forehead as the sun starts to show over the horizon.

“I love you.” He says, slowly stepping back and over the banaster. You reach your hands out one last time, cupping his face and kissing him before he climbs down and runs through the garden. 

With one final wave and kiss to his palm, he disappears into the greenery.

-

No one knows why the queen hides herself away certain nights of the year. Maybe shes up to nefarious activities. Maybe she does have secrets. 

Maybe she's just in love with someone she can’t have.

[fyoxi]

୨ৎ 𝓱𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓰 . . . ft. fyodor dostoevsky

fyodor dostoevsky x f.reader. hurt -> comfort-ish. bsd spoilders from ch. 53 on. brief mentions of a somewhat codependent relationship.

fyodor doesn't like leaving you in the dark. he can't tell you everything of course, though only for your own safety. he does try his best to tell you everything he can, so at least he knows you're worrying about him even just a tiny bit less.

but there are some things, albeit very few, that are out of his control. his capture and arrest had completely blindsided him, and he had no possible way of letting you know where he was, or what was going on, from that moment on.

his arrest was one of the few times in his entire life he felt genuine fear. not from being arrested. it was a type of fear that he felt deep in my bones, twisting like a boulder in his gut. it felt like the fear he had caused his whole body to shut down. he was afraid he'd never find his way back to you. you'd be left in the dark about where he was, if he was hurt, if he was even alive. and he'd have to sit in a cell knowing he could do nothing to ease your suffering.

his arrest was also the first time in his life he had felt such desperation. he pleaded, practically begged, the officers at meursault to let him write to you. but they all denied his pleas. even seeming to enjoy that they were able to deprive the fyodor dostoevsky, one of the world's most wanted ability users, of something he so clearly was desperate for.

it was pathetic, he thought, how every guard he encountered behind the prison's walls seemed to giggle gaggle about his situation. despite the fact that everyone in the room knew that if fyodor had been able to wield his ability, they'd all cower in fear.

but now they chucked and whispered amongst themselves as they stripped him of all of his belongings, including his wedding band. which he watched as it was tossed so carelessly into a bag, and he knew he'd probably never see it again.

they were harsh as they slammed the steel cuffs on his wrists and shoved his head down as they guided him to his cell. the cramped space that would essentially be his home for the foreseen future.

fyodor thought about you every moment he was awake. every passing thought he had would eventually come back to you.

when he was brought his meals, he'd think about all the meals you made him. cooked with so much care, and thought behind. making the best meals possible to help with his poor health. every soup, or sauce, or marinate soaking with that silly iron fish you were so fond of. but you swore boiling it in with his food would help his deficiency. and it could have been the iron fish, or it could have been love, but he did feel the healthiest he's ever been since he's been with you.

when he was laying down to sleep, he'd think of you. how he had taken for granted how comfortable the bed he shared with you was. how the mattress was so soft his body sunk into it. and he never thought he would miss such a thing, but he longed to have to move the obscene amount of plushies and decorative pillows off the bed before he could lay down.

even when he was plotting and scheming a way out, the thoughts mostly revolved around coming home to you. he promised himself he'd get out. of course he would.

there was no question that he'd slip his way out, the way it's certain that a rat would squeeze through the smallest of cracks. it was certain that fyodor would make his way back to you. the question was how, and when. the only sure thing about his plan, aside from its inevitable success, was that the very first thing he would do would finally return home.

. . . .

you learned of fyodor's arrest through the newspaper.

he hadn't returned home the day he promised, and while you were worried beyond measure, you had managed to convince yourself — somewhat — that he would be home very soon.

you missed him dearly, but life needed to move on. that's what fyodor always told you "i may be away, but your life must still go on, milaya"

you saw the paper on display in a shop while you were picking up groceries. out of the corner of your eye you saw the front page, and immediately recognized fyodor.

it felt like the headline had crushed you immediately, and despite the words from fyodor that you tried to live by when he was away, the whole world seemed to freeze in its place. at least your world did.

while the whole world moved on around you, it felt like you were stuck in place. pinned down by a weight that felt like a hundred tons blanketing your whole body.

for almost a year fyodor was gone, and you barely managed to keep things moving. doing the bare minimum to keep things in your home running. everyday seemed to bleed together, and day and night no longer had any difference to you.

the dependency you had on fyodor wasn't something you were completely proud of. but you couldn't really help it. even before him something in you felt hollow. you got on just fine, but it always felt like something was missing. a feeling that only went away when your life had collided with fyodor's.

you and fyodor had connected so deeply from the moment you had met each other for the very first time. your lives and souls so intertwined that fyodor being gone felt like a part of yourself had gone away with him.

most days you spent laying on the couch. you had moved to spending most of your time in the living room. the bedroom was too big for just you. the bed was too cold and empty without fyodor to share it with, so you had taken to the couch. spending nights lulling yourself to sleep with fantasies of fyodor returning home, and your days staring at the front door. hoping that the door knob would turn, and fyodor would come in.

a day dream you had fallen so deeply into at times that you had managed to convince yourself it would really happen. sometimes finding yourself practically sprinting towards the front door at the slightest noise. it was always a disappointment that left you in a weeping pile on the living room floor.

eventually you somehow managed to stop yourself from making a scene at every little noise. but despite your best efforts, you just couldn't get yourself to accept that fyodor would never come home. you still had hope that you'd be with him again.

this day was just like every other day before it. you barely managed to get through even the smallest of household chores before you took to the couch again. staring at the front door, zoning out as you tuned out the random talk show you put on in the background to pretend that you had company. though it did very little, almost nothing, to ease your loneliness.

and the doorknob jiggled.

this was really a new low for you. had your day dreams become so vivid out of your desperation that you had actually started seeing them ? how pathetic you'd become. you wondered if fyodor would be ashamed of how desperate you'd become.

and the doorknob shook again.

there was a muffled mumbling outside, accompanied by a series of the door knob twisting and shaking. like someone on the other side of the door had stuck something in the lock in place of a key to try and open the door.

you sat up right on the couch, staring at the door. your mind rushed with a thousand thoughts. a break in ? your landlord wondering where you've been ? maybe someone had mistaken your apartment for their own ?

a thousand thoughts ran through your mind, but one stuck out that made your stomach light up with butterflies and nerves all at the same time. surely... this couldn't be fyodor.

you sat up straight as a pin, staring at the door with wide eyes, like a deer in headlights, as you watched the lock turn and the door open.

fyodor closed the door behind him, and time felt like it was standing still as he stood in front of the door. neither of you moved. you couldn't believe it was real. or you wouldn't let yourself believe it.

"milaya.." fyodor finally said. he spoke the word with a heavy exhale, like he had been holding his breath for so long, only letting it go when he said the name.

hearing him was all the confirmation you needed. lunging up from your place on the couch, and cried out his name, colliding hard against his chest, it was almost painful, but you didn't care. you didn't even think about it.

your legs latching around his waist. it knocked fyodor back, using his hand to brace himself against the wall, and holding you up as tight as he could with his other arm. his time in prison had left him in the worst physical state he's ever been in.

you tried hard to form words, but all that came out was a mix of heavy sobs and cries of his name. and fyodor didn't bother to start a conversation, leaning his body against the door to be able to hold you.

he absolutely reeked. the smell of dried blood, build up of body order, and stale water all mixed together. but just in this moment, you wouldn't have been able to tell that scent from the smell of a basket of freshly picked berries, or the top of a baby's head. to you, with your face tucked into the side of his neck, he smelled like the sweetest thing in the world.

"im home, milaya" fyodor said as your cries turned to soft sniffles and whimpers, his voice was raspy and weak, he sounded out of breath and sickly.

"you're home" you repeated, your own voice shaky, on the verge of breaking into sobs again.

"i'm sorry. i'm so sorry."

fyodor's apology was simple. but 'sorry' was not an emotion fyodor often had the need for. so when he said it, when he said it to you, he meant it.

his apology was met only with another quiet sob, your tears running down the side of his neck, soaking into the collar of the prison attire he was still dressed in. fyodor felt his own eyes burning, his own tears threatening to make an appearance.

he could only imagine the suffering you'd been through this past year. but he knew it was tenfold worse than his own. while he knew that you were alive and well at home, as he was rotting in his cell planning his escape, you had no idea what the state of his well-being was. you spent the last year wondering if your husband was dead or alive.

he never wanted that for you. he took your marriage, his vows to you so seriously. you had been joined in the name of god, and it was his job to protect you from such suffering. he felt like he had failed. fyodor never failed. at least never on something he held so deep in his heart.

"i'm sorry" he said again

there was another long moment of silence, your sniffles and fyodor's shaky breaths as his own tears ran down his face being the only noises filling the air.

it was a while before you took a deep breath and spoke again. "you stink," you said. your blunt words were an attempt to lighten things up. it was a joyful reunion of course, but the heavy fog caused by the suffering of being apart for so long had not yet been lifted.

"i know" fyodor nodded, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve, trying to regain his composure.

fyodor kept you in his arms as he made his way towards the bedroom, using the wall to assist him. his steps were slow, and his legs were shaky, but he didn't once ever think of putting you down until he was able to set you down on the edge of the bed.

he squeezed your hand, firm but gentle, before going to the dresser to grab a fresh pair of lounging clothes.

"i'm filthy, milaya"

"you gonna shower ?" you asked him. he nodded in response. "i didn't get rid of any of your things," you said, getting up to follow him into the bathroom.

"i know" he said with a slight nod, and a little smile. "i know, you didn't"

you sat down on the closed toilet seat, your knees pulled up under your chin as fyodor turned the shower on and began undressing, tossing the prison uniform in the direction of the trash can rather than the laundry hamper.

your heart sunk as you saw the state his body was in. of course you noticed how unstable he was when he was carrying you, but his physical state was a wreck. his skin was shades paler than it usually was. it looked drained of all colors. leaving his body a sick gray color. and he had become so thin, like he had become nothing but a skeleton wrapped with skin. his rib and hip bones stuck out. his body looked like he was a dead man walking.

"i'll be okay, milaya" fyodor reassured you as he stepped into the shower, like he was reading your mind.

you stayed in your place on the toilet seat as you waited for fyodor to shower. you still felt a deep seated worry that this was all in your imagination, and if you left the bathroom fyodor would simply disappear again.

it took fyodor quite a few washes of his hair and body before he finally felt clean. by the time it was done, most of his products were empty.

he turned the water off, and slid open the curtain "could you hand me a towel, please ?" he asked

you nodded, quickly getting up to grab a towel from the rack in the connected bedroom. you handed it to fyodor, who was shivering as he stood naked in the shower, hair dripping wet.

he ran the towel over his head before wrapping it around his waist, and stepping out of the shower. you took your place back on the toilet as he brushed his teeth, scrubbing maybe a little too rough with his toothbrush.

he spit into the sink, spitting up globs of blood along with spit. you watched as he used his hand to rinse out the sink and his mouth with water, before filling a cap full of the mouthwash from the cupboard.

everything in the house was still in the same place as it was when he left home the last time. his hand gripped the side of the sink, groaning in pain as the alcohol based mouthwash burned the tiny cuts in his mouth from brushing so hard. he spit in the sink and rinsed it out one more time before turning off the water, and dressing himself in the comfortable lounging clothes he had pulled out before.

"do you feel better ?" you asked

fyodor nodded, taking a deep breath that seemed to allow his whole body to finally relax as he exhaled it. "much better"

he nodded towards your bedroom "bed ?" he asked. you nodded eagerly, having been so desperate to finally be back in bed with him after so long.

fyodor made his way to the bedroom, taking off all the plushies and decorative pillows off the bed, and placing them down on the ground. and he honestly couldn't think of a single complaint about it. maybe he didn't entirely understand the need for the over consumption of anything and everything soft, but he understood now that this wouldn't be your home without them.

in almost comical, the synced movements you made as you both got into bed and under the covers. you moved as close as you could to fyodor. it still didn't feel close enough. you wished you could merge into him, to become one. you never wanted to be away from him again. you wanted nothing more in the world then to be with him every second for the rest of your life.

"i'm glad you're home" you whispered

"i'm never leaving again" fyodor responded, thin fingers running across your hair

"you promise ?" you asked, your voice shakey, on the verge of tears again.

"i swear my life to god. i am never leaving you again, milaya"

[atxxokirina]

What You Deserve ( 18+, MDNI )

Neytiri x Jake x Fem Omatikaya reader

contains: pwp (porn without plot), dom neytiri & jake, sub reader, edging, rough sex, threesome, makeout session, fingering, creampie, punishment.

plot: you, jake, and neytiri enjoying each other's company

"..That's right, fuck her Jake." Neytiri holds your head against her chest as Jake plows you from behind, his large hands gripping the plush curve of your ass. "Mmm.. I-I wanna cuummm," You whine. The two had been keeping you on edge for the past hour, you can barely form a coherent thought. "Not yet baby. Ugh, fuck.. Just let me take that perfect pussy." Jake grunts, angling his hips upwards to hit your sweet spot, you whimper in response.

"Such pretty noises, y/n." Neytiri pulls your face toward her, licking her lips before giving yours a soft kitten lick. "Please.." You breathe out, eyes gazed deep into hers. "Yeah? You like that?" She squeezes her hand around your neck, planting wet kisses on your lips. Jake forces a hard thrust, earning a yelped cry from you. "More! Oh, great mother.. Pleaseeee- fuck, I wanna cum s-so bad!" Neytiri smirks against your mouth, finally giving you the lustful kiss you'd been waiting for. Her tongue touches yours as you pant, desire growing more and more.

Jake grinds his hips onto your ass, finding a new pace as your walls hug his cock. "This little pussy is squeezing me so tight, oh fuck y/n.." He moans, brushing your braids back and holding it into a ponytail, using it as leverage to fuck your wet cunt even deeper. Neytiri doesn't break the kiss. Not even for a second. Both of your lips are hungry for each others, but of course, Neytiri gets the upper hand. Pushing down into you, hungry for each aspect of your body. Her hand travels from your stomach, middle, and then landing on your clit, rubbing the bud with soft dedication as you moan in her mouth.

"G-gonna.. cu..m." As soon as you say those words, she snatches her fingers from you. Jake notices and slows his pace as well, softly chuckling at her. "C'mon, don't you think we should let her cum?" He huffs, holding back his moans. "At least once?"

"Yes! Please let me cum, I-I deserve it!" You whine again, fucking yourself back on his throbbing cock. She thinks for a moment. "No, you don't." She simply responds, pushing your body off of hers and situating herself on the boulder behind her. "I need to-" You couldn't finish your sentence with the way Jake was relentlessly fucking you, you felt your body melt beneath him as your mind became foggy. "Don't be a bad girl." Neytiri smirks at you, spreading her legs to expose her glistening pussy, fingering her folds open and letting out a breathy moan. "Shit baby, so fucking hot." He pushes your head down on the soft moss under you, groaning as his cock slides deeper inside.

"Wh-what are you doing?" You asked her, struggling to complete a sentance. "Giving you want you deserve." She plunges two digits inside of her pussy, you intently watched as some of her slick spills out. You whimper in protest. "Th- haaa.. That's n-not fa-ir!"

"Hm? What was that?" Neytiri teased, her hand now traveling to her plump breasts, using another two fingers to rub her nipples. You're still moaning on Jake's cock, it seems that watching Neytiri play with herself is only making him more agressive. He smacks your ass, a bright red handprint stinging. "Owh..!" You whined.

"Do it again, ma Jake. Keep hitting her." Before you can respond, he lifts his hand up, thrashing them down, a hard spank reigning down on both of your sides. You cried out, tears welling in your eyes from the bitter pain. "You don't deserve me. You're a dirty girl, a dirty little slut for us." She spits on the hand that was around her breasts, returning it back as she swiftly moves her fingers. "Yeah that's right.. Oh yeah.. keep choking my cock." Jake sqeezes your ass again.

"Please let me cum.. I can't- hold.. back anymoreeee.. Haa.." You whimper, holding your head down as your hands searched for something to hold onto. "I want it, please.." Neytiri scoffs shortly after Jake does the same. "Yeah, I bet you do." She flashes her fangs with a grin, looking up at Jake and nodding, giving him some kind of signal. Before you can question it, he pulls out, and immedietly thrusts back in, bottoming out entirely.

You scream through gritted teeth, Jake's cock is hitting your cervix mercelessly. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuucckkk!" Neytiri watches your reactions, quickening the pace of her fingers inside of her pussy, greedily moaning. "Ready?" She looks up at Jake. He nods, stiffening his body and holding himself inside of you. You felt his cock stutter and twitch around your spongey walls as he lets out a husked moan. "Fuuckkk. I'm cumming inside that pretty pussy.." A warmth fills your womb as his seed spurts into you.

You look up to see Neytiri, her legs spread wider than before. "Mmm, look at me, y/n. Look at what you can't have." She moans. You watched as her pussy oozes cream, chest rising and falling as her body tenses, her lower half twitching as her cream reaches past her ass.

You're mixed with arousal and submissiveness. You weren't the one cumming, but your body still felt impacted. Jake pulls out and releases the grip he had on your hips, causing you to fall and lay flat on your stomach. He pats your ass before stepping back, Neytiri now standing above you as she tied her loincloth back on. "Think you've learned your lesson yet?" You hum in response. "Good girls don't get what they want, they get what they deserve."

[rottenpumpkin13]

Zack gets AGSZC to play DND. What happens? Do they miraculously finish the campaign or does it go down in flames?

The DnD Game That Ended In Flames

Zack: Picture this—you’re all sent to survey a rundown reactor in the sleepy village of Nibelheim, and—

*Sephiroth raises his hand*

Zack: Yes, Sephiroth.

Sephiroth: Why would Shinra send three SOLDIERs and one infantryman to survey a rundown reactor?

Zack: …Uh… I don’t know. And you’re not SOLDIERs. You’re a fighter, Genesis is a wizard, Angeal is a Paladin, and Cloud is a Rogue.

Cloud: What are you supposed to be?

Zack: I’m the Dungeon Master. Anyway, so you have to hike up the mountain to—

Cloud: People have been known to go missing and die when they trek up Mt. Nibel. I wouldn't really recommend it.

Zack, ignoring him: As you begin your trek, you encounter a fork in the path. One trail looks—

*Sephiroth raises his hand*

Zack: What is it, Seph?

Sephiroth: Cloud doesn't recommend it.

Zack:

Sephiroth:

Zack, ignoring him: As you begin your trek, you encounter a fork in the path. One trail looks—

Sephiroth: What if we die—

Zack: PEOPLE DIE, SEPHIROTH.

Sephiroth:

Zack: One path leads through a dark forest while the other is a bit more dangerous, but climbs steeply up the mountain. What do you do?

Angeal: Obviously the path that climbs up the mountain.

*Everyone agrees*

Zack: Alright. As you climb up, the trail becomes treacherous! Rocks start to loosen beneath your feet—

Cloud: I told you so.

Zack: I'm going to yell at you and you won't like it.

Sephiroth: May I use my perception to scout ahead for dangerous spots?

Zack, rolling the dice: You spot a loose section of the trail and warn the others. But the path is still unstable!

Genesis: I cast a spell to help stabilize the rocks. You'll see, I'll save us all with my talent and sheer skill.

*Zack rolls the dice*

Zack: The spell causes the unstable rocks cause a landslide. You’re hit by a falling boulder.

Genesis: WHAT?

Angeal: How bad is it?

Zack, rolling the dice: The boulder hits Angeal with a fatal blow. He is now dead.

Angeal: HOW?

Sephiroth: Genesis killed him.

Zack: Yeahh…your path to the reactor just got a lot harder. You continue up the mountain, saddened after Angeal's death. Then you spot a Nibel dragon perched on the rocks. Its hungry eyes gleam as it notices you! Cloud, you’re up first!

Cloud: I’ll use my sneak attack and aim for the dragon’s weak spot.

Zack, rolling the dice: You deal significant damage. Sephiroth, your turn.

Sephiroth: I cast a fireball at the dragon.

Zack, rolling the dice: The fireball engulfs the dragon, hurting it. Genesis, you’re up.

Genesis: I taunt the dragon.

Angeal: HA! Like that'll help. Looks like you'll be joining me in death.

Zack, rolling the dice: The dragon is enraged and charges at you. Angeal, you die.

Angeal: I'M ALREADY DEAD.

Zack: Oops, sorry about that! *Zack rolls the dice* Genesis, the dragon is defeated and you live!

Genesis: Success.

Angeal: AKSJDGSJSKS

Zack: You finally reach the reactor. It looms before you, its structure old and decrepit—

Sephiroth: It’s typical of Shinra. Their greed causes them to neglect everything hidden from the public eye. What the public can't see, they do not care about.

Zack: A-ha! See? See why you need to survey the reactor? How do you proceed?

Sephiroth: We leave immediately and do not engage with the danger.

Zack:

Sephiroth:

Zack, ignoring him: You advance inside and notice something strange. On one of the doors near the core of the reactor, you see a name engraved: Jenova. Sephiroth's mother’s name!

Genesis: The plot thickens.

Sephiroth: What is this? Why would her name be here?

Cloud: What happens if we investigate the surrounding area?

Zack: The room is filled with strange machinery and pods containing…creatures. What do you do?

Sephiroth: I investigate the machinery and the pods. I need answers now.

Cloud: I’ll keep watch for any signs of danger.

Genesis: I'll sit quietly and eat an apple.

Zack: Angeal, what will you do?

Angeal:

Zack: Oh yeah, you're dead.

Zack: Anyway, as you investigate the pods, you discover grotesque, half-formed creatures floating in the mako. Suddenly Sephiroth finds a data log that reveals the horrifying truth: Jenova is not his mother, but an alien entity.

Sephiroth: I shall love her either way.

Genesis: That is the saddest thing I've ever heard you say.

Zack: Genesis, you have a choice here. You can either comfort Sephiroth in this moment of shock or make fun of him. What do you do?

Genesis: I choose to make fun of him.

Zack: Really? Damn.

Genesis: Well, well, Sephiroth. It appears mommy dearest is an alien. I can't say I'm surprised. After all, the apple does not fall far from the tree.

Zack, rolling the dice: This angers Sephiroth greatly. Genesis, you are now in mortal peril.

Genesis: WHY DIDN'T YOU MENTION THAT BEFORE?

Sephiroth: I choose to murder Genesis.

Genesis: HUH?

Zack, rolling the dice: Yeah, you're dead man, sorry.

Cloud: This is why we don't make fun of people's mothers.

Genesis: She isn't even his mother! She's an alien!

Sephiroth: The more you insult my mother, the more I feel inclined to recreate our fictional game in real life.

Zack: The creatures in the pods start to twitch. It seems your discovery has triggered something. What do you do?

Cloud: We leave the reactor and head back to the inn.

Sephiroth: A sound choice. After all, it's only the two of us now.

Zack: You head back to the inn, but in the middle of the night, Sephiroth slips out and heads to the manor library, searching for answers.

*Sephiroth raises his hand*

Zack: Yes, Sephiroth?

Sephiroth: I’d never do that. I adhere strictly to protocol and my rank. I would not abandon my men.

Zack: You have no men. Only Cloud.

Sephiroth, turning to Cloud: He's insulting your masculinity.

Cloud: Not cool, man.

Zack: Hang on! You have the choice to either follow Sephiroth or stay put at the inn.

Cloud: He might need my help. I should follow him.

Zack: You go after Sephiroth at the manor. You reach the library door. But you feel as if once you go inside, you will never be the same again.

Cloud: Just let me go in.

Zack, rolling the dice: Angeal dies.

*Angeal flies at him, but Sephiroth holds him back*

Zack, unbothered: As you step inside, you see Sephiroth at a desk, reading over a thick book. He looks up as you approach, his eyes filled with a strange intensity, bags under his eyes spinning tales about his lack of sleep. He looks depressed, sullen, confused.

Genesis: That's just what you see when you open his office door on any regular day.

Zack: Sephiroth shows you the book, which contains detailed records of experiments involving Jenova. The more you read, the more you realize the horrifying truth about her origins and the experiments conducted by Shinra.

Sephiroth: This changes everything.

Zack: Sephiroth, you have a choice: you can either take out your anger on your surroundings in a fit of rage, or return to the inn with Cloud. What do you do?

Cloud: Well that's a fucking no-brainer. Clearly he comes back to the inn with me. Why would you even include that as an option?

Sephiroth: I choose to burn Nibelheim to the ground in a fit of rage.

Cloud: WHAT?

Sephiroth: Gaia needs to pay for the sins committed by her children.

Cloud: WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?

Zack: Sephiroth begins to channel his rage, summoning flames that spread quickly through the village! Nibelheim is engulfed in fire as villagers scream and flee!

Cloud: I have to stop him!

Sephiroth: You are too weak to save anyone.

Cloud: !?

Cloud: Zack, how do I stop the fire and save the people??

Zack: Hm, you can try.

*Zack rolls the dice*

Zack: In a shocking turn of events, the fire is contained and all but one person survives the fire.

Cloud: Who? Is it my mom?? Is it Tifa?? WHO DIED?

Zack: Angeal dies in the fire.

Angeal: I ALREADY FUCKING DIED YOU IDIOT

[slashingdisneypasta]

Bill Sykes x Fem!AFAB!Reader || Smutshot

Plot: You convince Daddy Mafia Boss to take a uhhh... 'swim' with you 🩱

Warnings: Smut. Pool sex (private inside pool). Use of 'daddy'. Sykes has some body issues and doesn't believe you when you say he's hot as fuck. Little bit of degradation. Unedited.

"I didn't know you had a pool!"

Goddamnit. As soon as Y/N's form comes back into the hallway where Sykes was waiting for her groaning about her discovery he feels the dread begin to build. He was hoping she'd never notice, quite honestly.

Nevertheless he gives a chuckle, shaking his head and taking his new lovers hand when she scoops his up in hers again; returning to his side. "Yeah. Well, let's keep going. Get your ice cream from the kitchen- "

When Sykes tries to keep on going and show you to the kitchen, the reason he was away from his desk in the first place (you couldn't find your way around his mansion on your own, yet. And he couldn't deny you.), you stop in your tracks and halt you both. When he looks back, you give a pout. "Come on- let's take a swim!"

"Baby... I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" You ask, totally oblivious to any possible reason- which makes sense, he supposes. You dont got nothin' to worry about... not with a body like that. While you continue to make your proposition, you begin to unbutton your top. "We're alone, daddy, and I got you away from your work already... why don't we take advantage of that?"

"We can do that in the bedroom, sweetheart."

"Yeah... but this is a pool!" You insist, a smile slipping across your face that just kills hkm- you're too damn pretty. How's he supposed to tell you you cant have something you want?? Jesus fucking christ- "It'll be so fun. Trust me- come on! Please? I promise, I'll make it worth your while~ "

... fuck.

~

Your little hands undress yourself one article at a time inside the pool room, light from the water flickering across your perfect body, then turn on him: your eyes laving over him with a little satisfied smirk on your lips. "... your turn, big daddy."

"Heh heh," Bill raises his h u g e hands up in surrender. "No, I don't think so princess. I'll just sit back here and watch you have fun."

"I can't have fun without you, daddy!" You insist, stepping up to him and gently smoothing your hands up his broad chest towards his tie before he can back up towards a chair. "I need you... "

When you turn those soft, begging eyes up on him he breaks; sighing heavily with a frustrated look in his face. "Fine... "

"Yay!"

Before he can change his mind, you get to work removing his clothes. You start with his tie, then unbutton his shirt revealing a thin white undershirt. With greedy hands and a cheeky grin, you feel up his chest and his tummy, spreading your hands in under his blazer and button-up around his sides... feeling he's so warm and so soft... you give a sigh. "Damn, daddy, you're something... "

He grunts back, not even watching you; not seeing the lusty greedy horny look on your face. He's looking away, seemingly aloof except for his tight and pent-up muscles givong him away, wishing he had a cigarette more then anything.

You continue on after a good few moments feeling your meaty, perfect daddy mafia boss. After slipping the blazer and the button-up up off his boulder-shoulders, you pull up his under shirt until you can't reach anymore, and have him lift it off himself the rest of the way. Immediately you give a big grin, finally having him shirtless for the first time since you started your relationship 2 months ago. "Ah! You're so hot!"

This time he just rolls his eyes. You're real cute, even your lies.

Now his pants. Your delighted grin turns into a pervy smirk, flicking his button undone and pushing the waistband down over his hips until he can simple step out of them. Then, well, you can't help yourself, you trace your knuckles over the clear and heavy outline of his thick monster cock. You can't wait to have it inside you!...

"Okay, almost done, gorgeous... " Your eyes glide up over his body to Bill's face looking partly annoyed, partly aroused. Mostly Impatient at your teasing. "Is that thing heated?" You ask with a thumb pointed behind you towards the pool.

"'Course it is."

~

10 minutes later you're in the pool with your back against the edge, kissing slowly, your legs wrapped around Bill's thick hips and his cock throbbing against your core and your stomach. Every time you move your hips, giving the occasional gentle grind against him as your tongue works in his mouth, it sends a delicious spark of pleasure through you both. Your perfect little pussy felt beautiful against his cock- even if you were a pushy little liar, you sure made it worth his while. There was a reason he kept you around here. While you were here, he'd never need any other cunt.

The heated water, up to both your stomachs fills up every dent and crevice in your bodies, but nothing like Bill's cock when he finally thrusts it into you- making you gasp and forcing you to open up your mouth wider so he can take control of the kiss. A moan slips out of you then, and after that it's all you can do; take his cock and moan like a little sugar baby slut.

For a while that's how it goes on, Bill fucks you against the edge of the pool and its all you can do to follow the motions and keep your legs tight around him; keep him in close, keep him in deep.

"Thaats it,.. " He mutters huskily, encouraging you. "Good girl, baby, good girl."

As you get closer to your orgasm you get dirtier, more obsessed, more in love with him. You move forward against him and your lips glide over his chest while your hands touch all over his body; love handles and rolls are your favourite. When you squeeze his sides, Bill gives a groan, snaps, and starts pounding into you much harder so you cant touch him anymore; just lean back against the wall and take it. "Ah- "

"Fucken hell, Princess." Bill swears, his towering form bent over your body so he can speak directly into your ear. "Do you know what you're doin' to me???"

"I- I- I- " You can't respond, he's pounding you against the side of the pool too good, stretching you open so wide; water splashing over the edge and into the grates.

"No," He answers for you as your ties curl behind his back the fucking is so good. "No, ya don't. You're just a dumb little whore, right?"

"... yesss... " You whisper amid your moaning, rolling your hips against Bill's in responce to his fucking.

With that you come undone, squeezing his hips like a vice between your legs and his cock in your cunt, and leaning up to kiss him deeply again. As you ride out your orgasm, bouncing on his stiff cock, Bill comes as well- making you smirk into his mouth.

~

"Heheh," Bill chuckles that sinister chuckle of his with a shake of his head, about 10 minutes later when you've both gotten out and are towelling off/getting dressed. "Princess, that was something. You're a pretty good little actress- I almost fell for that crap."

"Wh- what crap??" You asked, tucking the end of your towel into the top so it stayed around you while you towel dried your hair with another. With the second towel on your head, you look baffled at your lover.

???

"You liking my body." Sykes tells you, simply. Overturning your entire world with his careless grin. "Thanks for pretending by the way sweetheart, I appreciated it."

"I- I wasn't pretending!"

"... uhuh."

"Bill, I- you're- you're hot."

"Enough."

"Bill."

He wants to sound stern?? You can sound stern, too. Levelling him with your eyes, you lower the towel backwards from your head like a hood, and raise a brow. "Do I have to fuck you again til you believe me??"

[bamsywrites]

Guilt (Tyrion Lannister x Reader)

paring: Tyrion x Reader; Tywin x Reader

summary: Tyrion is consumed with guilt as he sees just how his actions have affected you

word count: idk but sure as fuck not 13.k Idk where I got that number from 🤦

tags: pregnant! reader, mentions of miscarriage/infant loss, pretty fucking huge age gaps mentioned. tywin doing tywin things. angsty with some hurt/comfort. there's a lot of plot building as i want to attempt to make this into a series. pining. future friends to lovers.

AN: this is my first time writing in a loooong fucking time. I am open to constructive criticism and feedback. I have plans on making this into a series so let me know if that would interest you. this scenario has been in my maladaptive daydreams for so long lol. Please let me know how you like it!

--

Tyrion watched you from his spot overlooking the river where the women were doing the washing for the day. An older woman was showing you the best methods for getting stains out from the fabrics of sheets and clothes, you watched with a furrowed brow and genuine curiosity from your seat on a large boulder. Tyrion had noticed this was a new behavior trend of yours. You'd go to the kitchens, the stables, the rivers, all to try and lend a hand or learn. Your noble birth made it so you never had to wash your clothes or clean your rooms or make your food. He'd observed that since arriving in Mereen, you almost seemed to be trying to repent of the sin of being born a noblewoman by doing the chores and duties of those most would consider beneath someone of your birth. Not that you ever thought that way.

Tyrion's eyes drifted down to your swollen belly which you were stroking softly as you watched the woman and he scoffed with a quick swig from a flask of whatever wine he was able to get his hands on. You were nearing the end of your pregnancy, evident by your size and the waddle to which you walked. Dany had been accommodating to your state by having someone around to assist you if need be and keeping a midwife on standby for the impending birth. The queen had been more forgiving than he could have hoped for when it came to the two of you. You had given a rather convincing speech when you had arrived after fleeing Kings Landing. He could still hear the words ring in his mind.

"Your Majesty, I was but a child when your father was overthrown and family murdered. I was a child still when I was betrothed. No choice in my life has ever been my own. I was sold like cattle to the highest bidder and forced to have his children so he could in turn ship them away and form alliances with lords and kings. Everything I have done has been to protect me and my children. All I ever will do is to protect my children. I want them to live a life better than mine and from what I have seen here you would be able to provide that more than any man in Westores currently fighting for the throne. For that, you will have my loyalty."

It was well-spoken and you stood tall while you said it, but he could see the fear in your eyes. How could he blame you? A pregnant woman far from home in the territory of someone who wanted her dead simply because of who she was forced to marry. Staying in the Red Keep wouldn't have bode well for you either, his sister had never been fond of you and with the death of his father, the castle suddenly became very dangerous for you.

Tyrion understood why Tywin wanted to make an alliance with your house. Your father was lord of a southern house that was known for its impressive feats on the field of battle, no one had ever defeated House ____ on the battlefield and most were met with devastating defeats when they were on horseback. The best tacticians Westores had ever seen either came from your house or were mentored by the lords of your house. Tywin wanted that alliance and he was always looking to further his family line but Jamie had made vows and Tywin would rather die than give Tyrion any claim to Casterly Rock. That left him to marry you, which he did. You were young. Very young. He remembered how scared you looked on your wedding day as his father covered you in a robe of Lannister Red.

You'd done your duty as a wife very well. 6 years since your wedding to his father and you'd had several pregnancies and two living children - daughters much to Tywins dismay. You bore him a son named Tytos but he fell asleep one night never to wake again. Tyrion remembered that day very well, he walked into the hall to see his father holding you as you sobbed, pressing a kiss to your head and looking as vulnerable as Tyrion had ever seen him. Tywin always seemed to respect you and held some possessiveness over the fact that you were his lady wife. You were spoiled by him as was expected, always in the finest dresses and jewelry. Tywin made an example of anyone who dared to disrespect you, even if that person was the boy king himself. He seemed to value your intellect and wit, finding bragging rights in your brains and beauty. A fact that drove Ceresi mad. Though Tyrion supposed, the way Tywin treats your daughters was an even bigger slight to the Queen Regent.

Trysta and Nataria.

Tywin doted on them more than he did you. It was made known behind closed doors that Tywin would keep putting babes in your belly until you gave him an "heir and a spare" but there was a light to his eyes when his youngest daughters were around that made it known he cared for them too. There was an affection there that Tyrion did not remember his father showing Ceresi or Jamie as children. A fact confirmed by the jealousy his sister had for the two young girls, Jamie had never made a comment on it but he enjoyed the company of your daughters very much.

They were very sweet girls, with your eyes but the signature Lannister hair. Trysta was the eldest at five years old, she was smart and sassy, a combination that always brought a smile to Tyrion's face. There was nothing like watching a noble lord be put in their place by a small girl in a pink dress, knowing that they dare not comment back for fear of facing her father's wrath. Nataria was younger, still not quite speaking in full sentences yet, and always wanting to be picked up by anyone who would take her. Tyrion would never forget walking into the tower of the hand to see her sat on Tywins lap with her head nuzzled into his chest as she napped. Tywin informed Tyrion that the babe you were carrying was making you ill and the handmaids were unable to get her to stop crying. He didn't look up from the papers scattered across his desk and his voice was as stern and emotionless as it always was. It was almost alien to see it, to see how much Tywin was capable of some form of care for his children. Tywin often made the comment that his first three children were disappointments and that he was going to make sure his next turned out differently.

You had made the smart choice to send the two girls to stay with your family after Jofferys murder. Kings Landing was not safe for them and both girls adored Tyrion. You had not wanted them to witness his trial or execution or to be brought into the middle of dangerous court politics. You probably would have joined them if Tywin had allowed it. Tyrion was sad he never got to say goodbye to them. He loved them as much as they loved him, always reading books or buying trinkets for them. He missed them dearly but knew you missed them more.

Especially today. It was Nataria's second name day.

Tyrion was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of your laugh as you watched the children play in the water and their splashes of water soaking your dress and hair. He noticed that your laugh didn't quite reach your eyes and the guilt panged through him.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault.

You were distracting yourself, he realized, from the pain of what today meant. The pain of not being with your children. The pain of not knowing when you will see them again. He couldn't imagine the pain in your heart. Almost like you knew what he was thinking, your eyes locked with his and he gave you a curt nod before standing and heading away from the river.

---

Later that night he saw you again, sat in the gardens of a courtyard lit by the stars, and a few torches spread over the area. There was a piece of parchment paper in your lap and your fingers were playing with a necklace around your neck. Tyrion noticed your beauty in the light of the stars. The way the flames from the torches flicked across your features. He always knew you were beautiful but it was dawning on him that you were more than beautiful. He sometimes found the air leaving his lungs if the light hit you right. The sound of your laugh, your voice, when he heard you sing it was like the whole world stood still. It wasn't fair, he thought, that someone as kind and smart and witty as you could also be so beautiful.

The sound of a muffled sob brought him out of his thoughts and he felt that searing guilt tear threw him once more.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault.

His feet moved him through the courtyard and he sat next to you in silence. You quickly wiped at your eyes and shoved the paper, what Tyrion could now see was an old letter from your father about how your daughters were doing, into your dress. The two sat in silence for a few moments, neither knowing what to say. You'd always treated Tyrion with such respect and kindness and he'd returned the favor to you. You never let Tywin taint your view of him.

"You've been avoiding me," your voice cut through the silence.

It was true. He hadn't spoken more than a few sentences since defending you to the Queen when you were brought to her throne room. "And yet you have been watching my every move."

He nodded, eyes fixated on a particular patch of grass in the courtyard. "Always observant aren't you?" His voice was soft.

"You'd think someone of your size would be better at hiding but alas....."

Your comment made him laugh. The first laugh in a long time.

"Spying is not my strong suit, I must admit. Drinking, books, and whores are my real talents." His eyes traveled over to you and he noticed your small smile.

Your smile shouldn't cause him to feel the way he was.

The two of you sat in silence for a long while after that. It wasn't an awkward silence, neither of you seemed to know how to get the thoughts flowing through your head to form into words. There was so much to say, so much to explain. You broke first.

"I miss them," Your voice wavered and your lip trembled. "I miss them so. It feels as though my heart has been ripped out of my chest." The tears started to fall all at once, Tyrion swore he could hear them hit the ground like rain.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault

"Every time the babe inside me moves, I remember how it felt to feel them move too. I think of them from the moment I wake to the moment I sleep and then I dream of them. Are they happy? Are they safe? Where are they? When will I see them?" You rambled through the thickness of your tears, your fingers gripping tightly at the fabric of your dress.

Tyrion hesitantly grabbed your hand in his, afraid you'd hurt yourself and gave it a small squeeze.

"Your sister...Oh, your sister...she hates them. She hates me. She'll have them killed. I can't...I can't.." you choked on sob after sob

He said your name softly and moved to stand in front of you so he could look into your eyes. The tears falling down your cheeks and hitting the skirt of your dress broke his heart.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault

"Ceresi is many things. A hateful bitch is among one of her most prominent attributes. But, she is not stupid enough to wage war on your family. Her hatred for me consumes her. Last I heard they think I kidnapped you." He almost laughed bitterly at the thought. Remembering how he rushed you out of The Red Keep, it wasn't too far from the truth. "And despite even with all of that aside. Do you think Jamie would let her? Let her kill your children? Our sisters?" In truth, he had no idea what would happen but he had to hope. He had to have faith that his choice wouldn't lead to the fatalities of you and your daughters.

Your arms quickly wrapped around him and your face nuzzled into his neck. For a moment he just stood there in shock, this was the closest you'd ever been to him and he found himself enamored with how you smelt and soft you felt. But soon he ran his fingers through your hair in an attempt to soothe you. Tyrion could feel your hot tears on his shoulder and the mantra repeated in his head.

It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault.

"I'm so fucking sorry," He whispered into your hair. "I'm so sorry."

You pulled away and he found himself missing your warmth. He told himself it was because he wasn't used to such interaction, which wasn't a lie, but there was a stirring deep within him that he had to push down and hide. That would only bring him more shame and heartbreak and insult you further than he already has.

"All my life, my father hated me for killing my mother and for being a dwarf. He loathed my very existence. The only thing that kept me alive was my name. I was a Lannister. And then he lets me be led like a lamb to slaughter for a murder he knew I didn't commit. My only option is death or going to The Wall, there's not much difference there as people seem to think. He takes the woman I love and turns her against me, having her lie to all of Kings Landing. And then I find he's fucking her..." Tears were starting to well in his eyes now as he remembered Shae and how it felt to find her in his father's bed. "I didn't think about the consequences. Not for you or the girls until after it was done."

He remembered how the lamp light flickered across your face as you stood there, hand on your belly and mouth agape as he held the crossbow. He remembered how it felt to have the realization slap him in the face. Tywin had become fond of using you to belittle Cerasi, often saying you were more worthy to be a Lannister than she was. Cerasi was jealous of how Tywin seemed to care for and respect you. You wouldn't last long at The Red Keep. Tyrion remembered the scared look in your eyes as he took your wrist in a harsh grasp and led you through the corridors to where he was to meet Varys.

He was pulled from his memories when he could feel your fingertips lightly brush away his tears. "It's my fault," Tyrion's voice broke as he said those words to you, "and I can never express how sorry I am."

You swallowed thickly and looked at him for a moment before your eyes drifted up to the night sky. You were quiet again and this time the silence was thick and heavy. Tyrion could see your brain working hard to formulate thoughts and feelings into words.

"I was 15 when I was betrothed to Tywin," You said softly, your eyes still on the stars. "My father was so excited. The Lannisters would make a great ally and I was the only daughter he had to offer. For two years I waited, knowing that I was to be married to a man who rode into battle with my grandfather. It was the day after my 17th name day that we were wed. Within a year I had Trysta." Your tongue peaked out to wet your lips. "Tywin was not a moral man. He was not a good man. He was a smart man. An ambitious man. But not a good one. I know he respected me, I think he may have cared for me in his own complicated way. I know he cared for our children. But he was old and mean and arrogant."

Tyrion was silent as you spoke, you two had talked in the past for hours about books and history but you never quite opened up about your relationship with his father. Your eyes fell down to your lap and you picked at a loose string.

"I may be cursed for thinking it but I do not miss him. I miss my home. I miss Casterly Rock. I miss the sea and the beach. I miss Trysta and Nataria. But I do not miss Tywin. I am not naive enough to think that I will ever experience what it's like to be loved...to marry for love. That's not a reality for high-born women but I do hope the next time I'm married off it's to someone who is less of an ass."

Tyrion stood there for a moment and then took your face into his hands, "I promise you by whatever Gods are listening that I will get you back home. Back to your children. Or I will die trying." And he meant it.

You simply nodded. He took his seat next to you, his hand resting atop yours. The two of you sat there in a peaceful silence looking at the stars with his hand on yours and you weren't sure how long for. It could have been 15 minutes or two hours. When Tyrion noticed your head starting to bob and your eyes struggled to stay open, he stood up and silently offered you his arm.

The walk to your room was quiet. He had more he wanted to say to you but he knew this was not the time to say it. Once he got to your door he didn't know what to say, he didn't know if he should say anything. He cleared his throat and rested his arm at his side.

"If you, uhm, if you need me...." His voice trailed off.

"I know," you nodded, "thank you." You placed a soft kiss on his forehead before disappearing into your room.

Tyrion stood there for a moment, frustration rushing over him like waves. It was happening. He could feel the feeling creep into his heart: he was falling in love with the woman he widowed and he wasn't sure how to stop it.

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter twenty two

close to home | chapter twenty two

plot: the reader and her family meet Father Gabriel, and the reader confides in Daryl about what happened on the road

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 1,747 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd A/N: thank you for reading!!!

You woke up at dawn. The sky was a soft gray, and the stars were starting to fade. Your neck ached from the angle you slept in, and you definitely missed the couch from the house. The memory of it made you frown, and you forced yourself to sit up. 

Glenn was on watch, sitting a few yards from you and adding a log to the fire. He gave you a tired nod, and you used the boulder to help you stand. Your body was sore, and you knew that the pain medication was wearing off. But you needed to get up. You needed to move around and try to shake off the memories. 

Luckily for you, the group seemed to wake up right after you. Rick wanted everyone moving; so you could put enough distance between Terminus and the herd of walkers that ran through it. You grabbed your supplies and limbed over to Carl, who was with Tora. 

“Someone missed you,” You said to the young boy, lifting the cat and greeting her. 

Carl smiled, sliding on his backpack. “I’d like to say I’m surprised you got her out of the prison, but I’m not.”

You lightly laughed and chose not to tell him how the cat got off the prison. Instead, you shoved her in his bag, giving her a few extra rubs and zipping it up partially. “She’ll probably want to run around as we walk, but I’d like her in the bag while the sun rises.”

Carl nodded and gave you a smile before going to his father. 

The camp was wrapped up quickly, and soon you were on your way. You weren’t exactly sure where you were all going. You just hoped you’d find somewhere safe. You knew that you’d probably never have a place like the prison again, and you longed for the safety you felt there in those few months. 

During a cool-down a few miles into the trip, Carol checked on your wounds and gave you more pain medication. You thanked her quietly and drank the water Daryl kept shoving down your throat. 

By midday, you must’ve walked a good fifteen miles or so. Your body was aching, and you were starting to fall behind. 

“You good?” Daryl asked you.

You grimaced, a hand on your stab wound. “I can keep going,”

“Not what I asked,”

“I’m okay, Daryl.”

He nodded and kept a slower pace with you. “You gon’ tell me what happened?”

“Later. Alone.” You said, breathing heavily. 

Before Daryl could respond, you heard someone in the distance screaming for help. Everyone paused, and you looked towards Rick, waiting to see what he would do. He seemed not so sure himself. But Carl started asking, almost begging to go help whoever it was. Finally, he nodded, and the group and everyone started to jog. 

Daryl wrapped his arm around your waist to help you, and you both followed. The source of the screaming was a man on a rock, with a handful of walkers surrounding him. By the time you and Daryl caught up to the group, you were winded and felt like you were about to drop. You weren’t sure how long you could keep going, but you didn’t dare speak up. 

“Stay back,” Daryl said, pushing you behind him. There were enough walkers for nearly everyone to get in on the action, and within thirty seconds, they were all dead on the ground. 

Your side was starting to burn, and you leaned over, trying to alleviate some of the pain, while Rick assessed the stranger. You tried to listen to the conversation over your pain, but it was hard. You got a sense that the stranger was a priest, Rick didn’t trust him, and he seemed a little out of sorts. 

But when he said he had a church and the idea of being able to sit and rest, well, you prayed that Rick would say yes to that. But still, you didn’t want to voice it. You couldn’t put the group in danger. 

Rick looked at you, in the state that you were in, and nodded. 

“Daryl,” You whispered, catching his attention. He walked the few paces over to you and helped you stand. You didn’t need to ask. 

Before long, the group was following Gabriel to his church. Tora followed closely behind Carl, and you and Daryl held up the rear. 

When the building came into view, you wanted to cry. While the pain was getting better, it wasn’t quite manageable yet. You knew you would feel better soon with rest, food, and uninterrupted sleep. Or at least be able to walk long distances by yourself. 

You waited outside with most of the group while Rick, Glenn, Abraham, and Daryl scoped out the place. Michonne was lending her arm to you, and when Rick gave the all-clear, she helped you up the few steps and into the building. At this point, your frustration was growing, and you wanted to be able to do something by yourself. 

“Hey,” Michonne said, helping you to a pew and sitting you down. “I know this sucks, but we’re here to help you.” She said. 

You nodded and squeezed her arm. “Just not used to this.”

Michonne laughed and sat beside you, “Yeah, I’m not used to you being so helpless either.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and made yourself comfortable. You felt terrible watching everyone look over the place and ensure its safety, so you organized your bag just to do something. Before long, the church was as secure as it would get, and the priest had told Rick about some sort of food bank that had been overrun with a few dozen walkers. You wanted to volunteer, but it would’ve been stupid for you to do so. 

But after sitting for a little while and after another pain medication, you were on your feet. Rick, Michonne, Sasha, and Bob had already left, and you weren’t sure where Daryl and Carol were. But you ended up helping Carl on watch and chatting quietly about what happened to him after the prison and what happened in Terminus. 

After Tyreese took over on watch, you walked around the property and got a good look at everything. The perimeter that the newcomer Rosita made was exceptional, and you made a mental note to tell her that. Daryl said they were friends, and you wanted to ensure they knew you were a friend too. 

“You good?”

You jumped at Daryl’s voice and spun around, smiling when you saw him. “I’m better than you,” You replied sarcastically and limped over to him. 

He snorted. “They’re back. They got a lot of food.”

You nodded, letting out a deep sigh. “Where were you?”

“Carol found a car, we was gettin’ in ready in case things go south,” Daryl said. 

You nodded and walked over to the old, worn-down picnic table. You imagined the church must’ve had picnics for the congregation before all this. You used to go to stuff like this with Maggie, Beth, and your uncle. 

“I miss them,” You said, looking up at Daryl. He stared at you in his way, that typical stare he always had when he wasn’t sure what to say. You chuckled breathlessly and looked up at the blue sky. There wasn’t a cloud to be seen, and it was beautiful. 

“What happened?”

You didn’t need him to clarify. You knew exactly what he wanted to know. He’d wanted to know since he first found you yesterday. And you wanted to tell someone about it. You wanted to share the horror that it turned out to be. You wanted to tell him. 

You nodded towards the table, and Daryl sat across from you. “You remember those two girls and their father we brought in, a few weeks before the prison fell.” You couldn’t speak their names. 

“Lizzie and Mika,”

You swallowed and played with your fingers. “Well, I was out when we were attacked. I didn’t wake up… Lizzie… came to me, and she actually woke me up. She remembered I was in there. They had Judith and Tora, believe it or not,” You said. 

Daryl continued to stare at you, and you bit your fingernail. 

“Well, we ended up with Tyreese. The rest of the kids got separated. I don’t know what happened. I didn’t see it. They’re probably all dead,” You let out a shaky breath. “Anyway, it was just Tyreese and me with the three of them, and then we ran into Carol.

“We found a house to hold up in for a few days with the girls. Mika started getting really attached to me. She didn’t wanna leave my side. Carol and Tyreese went out to hunt cause Mika didn’t want me to leave. I sent them outside to play so I could… I don’t even remember what I was doing.” You said, starting to breathe heavily and feeling panic start to rise in your chest. 

“And I sent them outside. I sent them outside. And when I went outside, Lizzie… she stabbed me. And Mika was… she was on the ground. Lizzie… she killed her. She tried to kill me, and I couldn’t save Mika… I couldn’t save her.” Tears burned your eyes, and you rubbed them. 

Daryl chewed on his thumbnail for a second before he moved to sit next to you. “Not your fault, you could’n known.”

“But I made them go outside. I sent them out to go play, and if I didn’t, if I had been there….” You said through your tears. 

“You woulda killed her? To protect the others?”

You looked up at him through your teary eyes and held his gaze. “I don’t know…” You wiped your eyes. “They were so little….”

Daryl nodded and looked down at you. “You gonna pull through this.”

You nodded and wiped your tears away. “I just keep thinking of her little face.” 

“You will for a while,” Daryl said, shadows casting over his face as the sun started sinking between the trees.

Blinking away the last few tears, you leaned against his broad arm and rested your head against it. You felt him tense at the contact for a second like he usually did before he relaxed. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, relaxing into your emotions and the comfort of your best friend. 

[di-devil]

Hello, my dears!

Have a good day, evening or night!

Most recently, I decided to watch such a series as Maya and the Three Wars. I liked the plot and the appearance of the characters so much that I wanted to draw my own Hahahaha

We drew together with @kittyflufi123 my OCs, so I recommend taking a look at her work!

Most of all, I was inspired by this author @fenrirwolfofwar

Man, you are really cool, know about it. I also want to ask you a favor, could you come up with a name for this character? I will be very happy to hear your opinion, as an expert on Maya and the three wars)

This girl specializes in melee and mid-range attacks, her weapon being a long scythe with a curved blade. She moves quickly and deftly, because of this she is somewhat similar to a black cougar ahaha. Its golden claws are also weapons, sharp and strong enough to cut through a boulder.

[just-a-little-cellist]

Hello there my dear~! If you may be so kind, and you happen to get the inspiration, i would absolutely adore to request a small blurb from you! Or, honestly just chat if you’re up for it. My love for Tolkien’s characters is brimming over and I’ve got so many plot bunnies I need to write and gush over.

Anyways, something that has been stuck in my head as of late is Dwalin and his little hobbit wife on the journey to Erebor. Just imagine big, burly Dwalin who scares the shit out of everyone making his wife sleep flat upon him when Thorin has them stop to camp in an area with uneven, rocky ground. It’s just so cute to me for some reason?? Id kill to draw little shapes on his chest while curled up in his arms. As soon as you drift off he’s glaring daggers into anyone who dare raise their voice or attempt to rouse you. Oh goodness, and Bilbo being absolutely flabbergasted that very first night with the company! Such an entertaining, sweet thought.

Ugh. Id kill for this man. So fast. Anyways, I hope you’re doing absolutely lovely, sweetheart, and I thank you for receiving my thoughts 🤍🤍

~ ❄︎

(ohhhhhh this is so cute and we absolutely need more Dwalin content! I'm gonna do some headcanons for it if that's ok :) enjoy (and apologies for this taking so long)!)

(Dwalin x female!hobbit!reader)

The vibe of the two of you next to each other is a boulder and a literal ray of sunshine. It's a strange contrast to the people around you, but the two of you complement each other perfectly.

He's so incredibly protective over you that even Thorin hesitates to make any kind of comment about you.

This has its benefits, as the whole company are very respectful of you and will do whatever they can to keep you safe.

Obviously, Dwalin is well aware that you will face many discomforts and dangers on the road. This does not stop him from absolutely spoiling you with all the comfort he can.

If you're the slightest bit cold, he'll give you his cloak. He helps you down from your pony every single time without fail. He gives you extra food when he can (hobbits need their second breakfast, after all). And, while it may give him more comfort than he'll admit, he makes you sleep on top of him if you show even the barest hint of discomfort on the ground.

(his love language is absolutely acts of service)

While the others are surprised at the softness this shows, and Bilbo is positively mortified at the impropriety, none of them dare to comment and any looks are met with a glare that shuts their mouths before they've opened.

He drapes his cloak over the top of both of you, with your head tucked into his chest and his arms around your waist.

Genuinely he makes the best pillow ever, and he radiates heat which is ideal when you're camping.

Once you've fallen asleep and he's threatened everyone else into being sufficiently quiet, he loves to just watch you while you sleep. Your face is so peaceful, and he thinks you're the most perfect being he's ever seen.

It makes him feel so lucky and makes him even more determined to try and give you the world.

[netegf]

alive

pairing: ao'nung x reader

plot: when one of the tulkun dies, ao'nung reflects on his friendship with you and needs the truth to flow out like water.

word count: 1.5 k

The tulkun way forbade killing, but death would one day come to touch all things in this place. Ao’nung, perhaps better than some others, knew that. And still, his grief had a body of its own.

It stood by his sister who cried, remembering how the water of birth once covered this calf, then was so quickly absorbed by the hungry ocean. It stood by his mother and father who, like always, endured. Tall and firm, even in their pain. Sometimes he wished he could scream for them until his lungs burned out. But he was always under water - always screaming without sound.

It stood by you. Usually with many words to say, but tonight, quiet. He watches as you stare, tight-lipped, looking out into the glowing water with your arms crossed over your chest. He wonders if you’re trying hard not to say anything like he is. Or, maybe, you enjoyed this silence. Hearing everyone’s breathing. Rejoicing that they were alive.

He lets his elbow brush against yours and melts when you shoot him a small, but affectionate smile. He relishes in the way it clears his breathing. Your mouth twitches to mumble something his ears are not keen enough to catch, and it brings him back to a day he thinks he will remember forever.

That day – only a few weeks after your arrival to Awa’atlu. The one that made him see the same waters he saw everyday differently. He watched as you sat along the reef, playing with strings of wet seaweed, talking to the water like it would say something back. He watched the way the tide surged in rhythmic murmurs and wondered if it did.

He did not know you so well back then – too busy being broad-shouldered and indifferent. Too busy convincing himself that nothing could touch him. Busy trying to make himself believe that he could be happy that way.

Nonetheless, he knew you were struggling to adjust. He remembers asking you about Awa’atlu once, and you said that a new place felt good so long as there was the prospect of belonging. But when that dream crumbled, there was nothing left but anger and licking teeth.

He didn’t know what that meant back then. Now, he draws his tongue over the points of his canines and thinks he is angry. Maybe frustrated was a better word - at his cowardice. Even in that moment, so long ago, he's unsure he would’ve said anything had you not caught him lurking.

After your talk with the water, he watched you grab a rock off the shore and attempt to make it skip. He noticed how quickly it sank. Then, like nothing happened, you grabbed another. Tried again. Kept throwing. Again, and again, and again. He thought it was stupid. And courageous.

When your eyes flicked over to him, poised awkwardly behind a boulder, you didn’t look bothered so much as you looked confused. It didn’t help that his lips were fused shut. He hoped you couldn’t tell that his lungs were beating in his mouth.

All he could muster was a strangely poignant, “I-I saw you.”

“You saw me?” You repeated, brows raised.

“Talking to the water.” He added, wincing slowly when realized that it hadn’t made anything less weird.

You nodded your head slowly. “Right.”

He felt his body retract before his mind could even recognize, but stopped when he heard the playful lilt in your voice.

“Hey, do you know how to skip rocks?”

He remembers scoffing. “I am not a baby, so yes.”

Then he remembers you rolling your eyes. Turning to rip away from him. His chest erupting in a pain he didn’t know. The sand grains beneath his feet, suddenly in an hour glass, and his moment slipping.

“Wait,” he said, grabbing at your hands. They were strong and warm. “I mean, yes, I do. I can help you.”

You bit your lip. “Okay, then.” And smiled happily. “I will think of something to teach you in return.” He liked the way you said everything like it was a promise.

So much time had passed since then, and granted, you had taught him many things. Mostly, about the odd resilience of seeds. How his hands felt too light without yours in them. Even now, you were teaching him. That grief was not an end, but a new kind of beginning. To a time of remembering.

Looking forward to where his parents were gathered in front of the clan, torches blazing, he thinks to a time when he caught the shore sparkling.

Sea glass. You said it was the only good thing to come from the war with the sky people. Shards of glass from ships and other things, churning through the water, persisting through the salt, until they became the ocean’s jewels – shiny, round, and beautiful.  

Without thinking, he picked it up. Paying no mind to its sharp edges. The way it sliced through the tips of his fingers. He hissed in pain, and continued to do so, even after you arrived. Your touch was not particularly gentle.

“You know, I think you would be better at this than me.” You remarked, fumbling with the wraps that clumsily hugged at his wounds.

“I was getting it for you.” He pressed. “I think you owe it to me.”

You scrunched your nose. Leaning forward to tap at his temple, and smiling crookedly. “Note to self, fish boy. I like my sea glass without blood on it.”

He rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to your trembling hands. Running a finger over the wrapping, only to be surprised at how damp it was. He bit back a laugh. “And I like when my bandages are not soaking wet.”

You lurched forward, then, trying to remove them. Muttering something about how Tsireya, or his mother, could fix it but he slipped away from your touch, cradled his hands to his chest.

“Back off!” He barked in between laughs. “These are mine.” Silent for a moment. “The world’s worst tsahìk did them for me.”  

He remembers how long the word tsahìk hung in the air. The implication of it. How your face felt warmer when he hugged you as a ‘thank you’. How strange it was to hug you for the first time, but how it set a precedent. He silently thanks himself for having had the courage.

By the time the funeral is over, Ao’nung has a conviction. That he has energy under his skin, and that it is yours to have. That it is time to tell you about it. He sees you lingering where the water kisses the shore, at the place you always meet.

In the event of something rippling, the two of you shared a special kind of ceremony. You each picked a pretty rock, watched it get swallowed whole in the ocean’s mouth, and said aloud something you planned to do in the near future.

He pulls up behind you. Notes the rock already jumping like a small fire in your hand. You look to him with wide eyes, somewhat bleary from the tears you cried for the tulkun, but also fearless. Also beautiful.

“I’m going to ride tsurak.” You say, not skipping a beat.

Ao’nung feels his neck crane. “But you’re not a hunter.”

“You don’t think I can?” You look disappointed, and it hurts his heart.

He pauses for a moment. Not disbelieving, but contemplative. He thinks of the one who keeps throwing sinking rocks.

“No, I know you can,” he corrects. “That is why it is so scary… I will never hear the end of it.” Laughter thunders from his chest, urging you to send a slap to his shoulder. You laugh, too, until there is just the sound of uneven breathing.

“What’s yours?” You ask.

Not trying to pry, but the silence is strange and disarming. It feels like he is hiding right in front of you. You turn your cheek to catch his pupils, and watch as his forehead pinches with tension.

“No fair.” You pout. “I told you mine, you can’t flake out no-”

“I am going to court you.”

Maybe he expected your face to contort in some kind of shock, but he'd take that knowing glimmer in your eye every time. More than happy with your hands pulling up from your lap and bringing a vibrating warmth to his neck. Maybe the water had one day sucked out his secrets and told you. He can’t be sure, but he thinks you were waiting for this. For him.

“Can I teach you something?” You whisper.

Before he can nod a second time, you are kissing him. A kiss with everything in it. Your soft lips, and teeth, but no anger. That has his veins burning. Reminds him that he breathes air and it circulates through this body. That life, too, touched all things in this place.  

And if he only ever focused on how much the water took, he'd be remiss of how much it gave.

END.

a/n: <33 enjoy bbs!! reblogs/tags are so appreciated! 🪐