#so it is best to allow experiences to wash over you and not attempt to hold on to the water of time that can only pass you by

[improbable-outset]

𝐀𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞

𝐓𝐖: overstimulation, fingering. Minors DNI🔞

𝐔𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You were his first everything. Kenji knew the moment he returned to Japan and bumped into you again, that you’d be the one.

The one to have his heart wrapped around your fingers.

The one to take his virginity.

He still remembered the bliss he felt when you sucked him off and he experienced his first orgasm. He could still recall the moment his focus narrowed and his whole body was in a trance, completely in control by the intense pleasure your mouth was giving him.

It was the best thing he had experienced, even better because it was with you.

But the first time he witnessed you reaching your own peak, he was completely enamoured. And he would do anything in his power to pull orgasm after orgasm from you, just to see you fall apart under his touch.

“Kenji…it’s too much. I can’t—” you whimpered. Your voice was hoarse and your legs were shaking.

You were laid out on the bed underneath him, a film of sweat on your forehead. You were spent and still drowning in the afterglow from your previous climax.

Kenji fingers dipped his into your core, feeling your dripping wetness over them. He kept moving them in and out relentlessly, trying to get you to reach your peak again.

“Come on, baby.” he coaxed, still moving his fingers. “You can give me one more,”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to answer back, let alone form a coherent sentence. The wetness from your core made lewd noises which seemed to fill his senses.

Your back arched and your legs jerked instinctively as he curled his fingers inside of you, but he quickly put one of your thighs in place so you wouldn’t move.

He couldn’t help but grin at the sight of you, your lips parted as more moans slipped out of your mouth and your body squirming under his touch.

He leaned in and kissed below your earlobe while his fingers continued at their sporadic pace. “You’re close aren’t you?”

He used his thumb to press onto your swollen clit that had been overstimulated in the last few minutes. Your thighs started to quiver and he could tell from previous experiences that you were going to reach your peak again.

He could feel the familiar contraction around his fingers from your silky walls, just as they always did. Just for him.

He kept his gaze on you, not wanting to miss a second of what was about to unfold. The same sight that he had quickly grown addicted to the first time he witnessed the vulnerable side of you.

Your eyes squeezed shut and your face flushed, allowing yourself to get washed into the height of pleasure for the umpteenth time of the night.

He watched as a look of ecstasy casted on your face before your release hit— your mouth fell open as you moaned out his name, the only fragment your mind could grasp.

He slowed the pace of his fingers through your release. Eventually, he pulled his fingers out; they glistened under the light with your spend.

He wasted no time to bring them into his mouth and taste his handy work on his tongue. He looked back at you as you slowly recovered from your high.

He gave your forehead a quick peck before he moved down to reach your core with his mouth. You looked down at him, your eyes widened as you realised that he wasn’t done with you.

You shouldn’t be surprised by now though.

Another terrible attempt at pnp bc that’s what people like to eat up more or whatever.

[luv4freddie]

Polaroid Love - F.W

Fred goes to work with his father and comes home with a muggle Polaroid camera, deciding the best use of it would be to take horrendous pictures of his girlfriend.

Fred x fem!Muggleborn reader, established relationship, reader gets red, house and age not specific, tooth rotting fluff bc I love lovesick Fred, 1.2 k words

Being a muggleborn at the Weasley household was an experience, to say the least.

In the last week since you’ve been at the Burrow, you’ve explained what rubber ducks are for, how to operate a microwave, and Pythagorean theorem.

Today Aurthur took the boys to work with him, so you were currently helping Molly cook dinner.

You had yet to understand the witchy way of cooking, so you were stuck mixing a bowl by hand while Molly sent knives, pots, and pasta flying all across the room.

You ducked a flying cutting board right as the group of rowdy boys entered the front door, your boyfriends voice in particular carrying over the noise of clattering dish ware.

“Honey, we’re home.” Aurthur calls, and Molly meets them all at the door, asking you to ‘keep an eye on’ the multitude of activity in the kitchen.

You look around with wide eyes, imagining all the magical pots dropping to the floor and spoons stopping their stirring, Molly walking in and wondering how you were so incompetent that you would never be able to cook and therefore would be a horrible wife to her son.

You’re only snapped out of your reverie by a flash of light in your eyes, and you tumble back to your current environment— all the dishes are still floating, the spoons were still moving, and Fred was staring at you with a giant grin on his face.

“Hi Freddie!” You light up at the sight of your boyfriend, but don’t allow his attempt at hugging you, too focused on not disappointing your (hopefully) future mother-in-law.

“They’re not gonna stop working unless mom makes them, these things are always going.”

But you refuse to budge, and Molly walks in to see you holding your boyfriend away with one hand on his chest while you continue trying to stir with the other.

She lets out a laugh, telling Fred to leave you alone and go wash up before dinner.

“One kiss? Pleaseeee?” He gives you puppy eyes, and your face goes bright red.

“Not in front of your parents!” You hiss, but he steals a one anyway before running up the stairs and out of the way of the punch you tried to throw at him.

Molly pretends not to have seen, and you let your face cool down before asking what she wants you to do next.

Fifteen minutes later you’re sat at the large table, sandwiched between the twins while Ron talks to you from across the table.

“It was pretty fun, and we all got muggle souvenirs afterward, can you explain to me what this is?” He asks, holding up a PEZ dispenser with a cartoon character head on top.

You laugh, explaining how to get the candy out and watching as a few of the Weasley’s around the table stop to watch, Aurthur positively beaming at the discovery.

“Take a bite before dad can ask you something,” Fred whispers urgently in your ear, and you go to say something back but see Aurthur open his mouth on the other side of the table and you quickly scoop as much pasta into your mouth as you can fit.

You hear Fred laugh at you, and you turn to give him a glare; although it’s less scary due to the copious amounts of noodle hanging out of your mouth.

A flash once again momentarily blinds you, and you finally realize what it is when you see the small Polaroid camera in your boyfriend’s hand.

You go to yell at him, but still have pasta in your mouth so you settle for an angry groan and another smack to his arm.

You watch in horror as a piece of film comes out of the camera, which your boyfriend takes gingerly and looks at expectantly as it develops.

You finally manage to swallow your large bite, and you snatch the photo from his grasp, immediately being greeted by your own face, round with food in your cheeks and wide eyes while strands of pasta hang down your chin and sauce sits on the corners of your mouth.

“Freddie,” you groan in annoyance, but he just takes the photo back from your hands and looks at it proudly.

“It’s a lovely representation of you, darling.”

“It is not!!”

George is laughing too, and you turn back to your plate, trying not to think about the fact that your boyfriend now has two horrible pictures of you for keepsakes.

You try to help clean up after dinner, but Molly insists that someone else does it since you helped cook, so you head upstairs to your boyfriend’s room while Ron and Ginny grumble.

“Evening, love,” Fred greets as you enter the twins’ room.

“Y/n,” George greets as well, tipping his nonexistent hat to you before turning his back to you so he can start a letter to Angelina.

Your boyfriend uses the opportunity to wrap his arms around you, trapping you in his embrace and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I missed you today.” He mumbles into your hair.

“It wasn’t even a full day,” you laugh, the sound muffled by his chest.

He scoffs, sitting down on his bed and pulling you onto his lap.

“So what, I’m not allowed to miss my girl?”

You feel your cheeks warming at the claim of being his, and you give him a teasing smile, “well when you say it like that..”

Before you can even move there’s another flash and you immediately groan, burying your head into the crook of your boyfriend’s neck.

“I’m really starting to resent your dad for getting you that.”

You feel his shoulders shake with laughter, but all he says is “I think it’s my second favorite possession.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, pulling back so he can see it.

“Second favorite?”

“Yep. After these pictures.” He grins, now holding up all three photos he’s taken of you since being home.

“Why can’t you just take pictures like a normal person?” You ask, looking at the two new photos, the one from earlier of you with a wooden spoon in your hand and eyes looking around while bowls float around your head, and the newest one of you sat on Fred’s legs with pink cheeks and a grin on your face.

“Normal people don’t get to keep your happy face in their pockets though, now do they?”

You watch as he puts the photos back, and you melt at the thought of your boyfriend wanting to document your joy to keep as his own.

“I’m always wearing my happy face when I’m around you, Freddie.”

He grins (ignoring George’s gagging) and pulls you down onto his bed, smothering you in kisses until he can no longer keep himself up and your face is brighter than his hair.

“Guess I’ll have to get more film then.”

And he does.

In fact, by the time you get back to Hogwarts from the holidays he’s got a whole wall of polaroids .

You in his Christmas sweater with a proud smile on your face and an F across your chest, you being squeezed by his mother in the worlds tightest hug, you on a broom in his backyard and a quaffle in your arms, you asleep on his bed, even one of you puckering up as if to give the camera a kiss.

And no matter how many times he looks at them, Fred still stares at the photos with a lovesick smile on his face, absolutely in awe at the ability to capture pictures that are so you, so full of light and love that he feels like the luckiest man on Earth to get to be yours.

[targaryen-dynasty]

COMFORT.

Daemon Targaryen x valyrian!Reader

You understand the Rogue Prince like no other, and so it's your task to put his mind at ease again when he stumbles into the brothel.

WORDS: 1.5 K

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; DUB-CON, ass eating, handjob, balls worship, size kink, squint and you'll miss the breeding kink, valyrian!Reader (has pale skin, silver hair), bastard Valyrian/High Valyrian

NOTES: I KNOW I said I’d leave for some while, and I’m not really active on here besides setting up a queue but I just couldn‘t let go of the thoughts of some good ol‘ ass eating with our uncle-daddy. This work is not meant for educational purposes, but please wash yourself before doing sth like this.

It was a lacklustre affair.

Daemon had been thrusting and thrusting for quite some time with little effort or enthusiasm, arousing nothing but awkwardness and deep desire for it to be over. 

Perhaps it was your faked moans of pleasure or perhaps the disheveled state he was in when he stormed into Chataya’s, nevertheless, he was disgruntled as he pulled out of you, clearly frustrated by his poor performance. 

As he sat down on the sill, quilt wrapped around his hanging shoulders, you were quickly reminded that the usually confident, self-assured and strong Rogue Prince that didn’t much care what anybody thought of him actually very much cared, and was nothing more than a tender man who was wracked with doubt. 

Getting on your feet, you prowled toward him, standing between his parted legs. You cupped his face with one hand, forcing him to look up at you. 

“It is possible the Queen will give birth to yet another girl,” you tried to cheer him up, grabbing both his large hands and caressing them with your thumbs. Alas, the attempt did not bear fruit, the dragon in front of you merely scoffing. It seemed there were a few more layers you had to peel off tonight to figure out what truly plagued him, though you suspected something–or someone–particularly to bother his mind. 

You squeezed his hands before pulling him onto his feet, despite him seeming rather reluctant. “Allow me to put your mind at ease, my Prince,” you hummed, and guided him back toward the bed. 

When he lay down on his back, you tsked, “va ao iemny.” On your stomach. It was your Lysene origin that granted you the ability to speak a version of bastard Valyrian, and was one of the main reasons the Prince had chosen you a few moons ago. That, and your pale skin and silver hair. 

His lilac eyes widened ever so slightly at your bold command, but he complied. The bed barely dipped beneath your knees as crawled between his parted legs. You sat back on your haunches and trailed your ring clad fingers over his sides, starting at the top. A few of the scars were traced by your fingertips, and you relished in the way he shivered under the gentle and teasing touch. 

Keeping a close eye on him allowed you to spot the way his upper body moved in sync with his heavy breathing. What surprised you the most was that he held his eyes closed, visibly enjoying your ministrations despite them being barely there. 

“Bisa iksis daor mirre,” you said, the smirk on your lips reflecting in your tone, “iksan daor gaomagon.” This isn’t all. I am not done. 

Reaching for one of the more firmer pillows, you grabbed his hip to raise it a bit before shoving it underneath his lower stomach, angling his hips and giving you the best possible access to his rear and cock. Daemon was open-minded and had ample experience up his sleeve, and it wasn't the first time you paid attention to anything other than his cock. 

You bowed forward, your lips finding the sensitive spot in the nape of his neck that always had him purring like a cat and bending to your every wish. Lingering there for a few moments with your teeth nibbling on his skin, you eventually licked over the faint mark that followed in your teeth’s wake, before departing down. 

While open-mouthed kisses were pressed to his spine, both of your hands began to tease his buttocks. At first, it was only gentle caressing, but as your mouth traveled lower, the bolder your hands got. You squeezed his flesh, and gently parted his buttocks to expose his arsehole to the warm breath you exhaled. 

Your eyes flickered up to gauge Daemon’s reaction for a split second before you gathered some saliva and spat it onto his unprepared hole. His muscles tensed slightly with the sudden wetness, but when your index finger circled around the rim, he relaxed just as quick. 

A faint hum was audible, coming from the Prince in front of you, and when you pushed the first digit in, it was replaced by a groan. 

“Fuck–” 

“How does that feel, my Prince?” you purred.

“Good,” he rasped. 

That was encouragement enough for you to spit into your other hand, coating his cock in it and using the slickness to tug on it with ease. Being penetrated on both ends had him releasing wanton moans in no time, only increasing in volume as you bowed forward and replaced your finger at his arsehole by your lips and tongue. 

If it wasn’t for your mouth and tongue being occupied by sucking and lapping at his hole, you would’ve chuckled as he desperately pushed his hips back against your face. You dragged your tongue over the rim, and kept your blue-lilacish eyes on the Prince beneath, watching carefully what worked best and what not. 

One of your hands spread his buttocks, allowing you to keep your lips against his ass as your tongue pushed in. You stilled briefly, but were spurred on when you heared the strained groan he released. 

“Sīr sȳz, gaomagon jāre,” he panted, “... kostilus.” Hearing him beg was new, but you couldn’t deny that you found a certain liking in it. So good, keep going. Please. 

As you felt his cock twitch in your hand, indicating that he was on the verge of peaking, you released it and instead processed to fondle the sac of his stones, squeezing it. 

The whine that escaped his throat as you pulled back to spit into your hand was the epitome of pathetic, and he obviously had your teasing coming. “Skoros massitas naejot se nēdenka dārilaros, mh?” What happened to the fierce Prince, mh?

“Jorrāelagon nyke naejot–” The threat died on his tongue as yours dove back into his arsehole, returning to its task with vigor. Need me to–

Just like his cock, his stones were coated in your saliva, making it easier to fondle and squeeze them. Daemon started to rut his hips, and it was clear what he was doing or rather chasing. With his hard cock rutting against the pillow, your hand fondling his stones and your tongue fucking in and out of his hole, he felt his peak slowly building at the base of his shaft. 

If it would’ve been any other patron, you would’ve stopped your ministrations and thought about a punishment to put him back in his place, but it was no normal patron lying in front of you. It was a Prince, and a dragon in flesh at that. 

Your tongue and hand were tireless in their motions, determined to push the rogue over the edge, and judging by the way he was writhing and rutting as if his life depended on it, he was close to toppling over.

The strained groan he wanted to release, the one that always came whenever he spent himself, was replaced by a gasp, caught off guard by the way your tongue curled up on its way out, tugging at the rim in a way that drove him insane. 

“Seven hells,” he grunted, and was quick to wrap one hand around his twitching member, tugging on it to embrace the approaching release that threatened to undo him. 

“I–I’m–” the words cut off as his peak crashed over him. His other hand fisted the covers tight enough for his knuckles to blanch, while his hips and hand worked in tandem with your own and your tongue to coax him through the pleasure.

His orgasm tingled at the spot where his sac met his cock, and it was almost ridiculous how much of his spent squirted out and coated the sheets and the pillow below. It was such a shame it went to waste, because you knew at least one spot of your body where you would’ve preferred it. 

You had withdrawn your mouth from his hole not long after the peak subsided, and crawled up and hovered over his tall frame. Collapsing on top of him, he merely scoffed at the added weight, but was quick to hum as your lips pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek. A tired smile was adorning his features, and his lilac eyes were closed again, relishing in the bliss he felt. 

“How do you feel?” you asked, and though your blueish eyes twinkled with mischief, the genuine concern seeped through your words regardless. Daemon kept on smiling, reaching up to gently cradle your face before he grabbed your body, keeping you steady on top as he turned to lie on his back. His head was propped up on a pillow and yours was resting on his chest, his heartbeat lulling you into calmness. 

“Iksi henujagon syt Zaldrīzesdōron isse se ñāqatubis,” he mused. We are leaving for Dragonstone in the morning. 

And when you looked at him with utter confusion written all over your face, he elaborated further. “You are foolish if you think I would go into exile without you.”

[axelsagewrites]

Could you do a Roy or Jamie fic where the reader gets hurt? Even something silly like getting hit in the head with a ball at practice or something! They’re super concerned and want to take care of them! I also love angst…sorry if it’s a stupid idea. No worries if you don’t want to write it 💜✨

Jamie Tartt*Practise Mishap

Pairing: Jamie x f!reader

Word count: 1291

Warnings: reader getting hit by a football (which hurts a lot btw from experience), Jamie feeling guilty, fluff

A/n: i love this idea btw ive been wanting to write something like this for a while but i made this more fluff than angst

Masterlist here

You’d never actually seen Jamie at practise. There was the occasional time where you dropped him off or picked him up after, but you never lingered since he needed to concentrate. However today Jamie in all his genius managed to forget his phone this morning.

“Wouldn’t have forgotten it if you hadn’t have distracted me love,” he teased, a smirk toying on his lips that made you smack his chest.

“Can you not?” you said, nodding to where the coaches stood only a couple feet away.

Of course, Roy heard. A loud groan came from him before he barked at Jamie, “Back on the field Tartt,”

“You staying to watch Jamie in action?” Ted asked, far more politely than Roy who was sulking at the suggestion.

You looked between him and Jamie who seemed to perk up at the idea, “Is that allowed?”

“I don’t see why not,”

“Maybe he’ll actually put some effort in,” Roy mumbled.

Jamie just rolled his eyes at Roy before giving you a quick kiss, “Get ready to see the king in action,” he said before running back on the field as you laughed.

“How do you stand him?” Roy grunted.

Truthfully you found Jamie’s cockiness annoyingly attractive, but you didn’t think Roy needed to hear that. “What can I say? I’m a saint,” you joked.

Even though the practise was interesting at first it was just boys kicking balls around a field and the illusion quickly worn off. That plus you were supposed to get a bunch of things done at home since it was a rare day off. You turned to Ted to tell him, “I’ll probably shoot off in a minute or two,” you said at the same time as someone yelled “Watch out!”

Roy tried to grab your arm, pulling you out the way, but not fast enough and a ball planted right in the middle of your chest, knocking you off your feet. You hit the ground with a thud and all the air was knocked out your lungs.

You heard Jamie shout your name, but you were too busy coughing up a storm and trying not to be sick. Roy and Ted had crouched down beside you, Beard shouting for Nate to run for the first aider. “Are you alright love?” Jamie asked, dropping to his knees beside you.

“I think- “your attempts to speak was interrupted by more coughing and the urge to be sick, “Ow,” you winced.

“What the fuck were you doing Colin?” you heard the footballers begin to argue as they all rushed to your side.

“I was trying to pass to Isaac! I didn’t know he didn’t see me,”

“When I said improve your kick, I didn’t mean kill Jamie’s bird,” Roy yelled at him, standing up.

Ted tried to calm him, but it was Jamie who spoke first, “Oi! The lot of you move it. you’re crowding her now piss off,” his anger washed off his face when he turned back to you, “C’mon love let’s get you some help,”

“I’m fine,” you winced as Jamie pulled you to your feet.

“No, you’re not now be quiet and let me help you,” he said as he helped you over to sit on a bench at the side. The first aider came and gave you a once over and said it was all good but to be careful. So, Jamie naturally made them triple check. Colin also came over, apologising a million and one times to which you assured him it was okay, and Jamie tried not to death glare him.

Some water and painkillers did help but you still weren’t feeling amazing. Ted walked over with a guilty smile on his face, “How we are doing over here folks?”

“Better now,” you smiled, hiding your wincing as best you could.

“I’m gonna kill Colin,” Jamie muttered.

You rolled your eyes, placing a hand over his, “It was an accident babe. Let’s just let it go, okay?” Jamie didn’t say anything, but you knew he wouldn’t. “But I should defiantly go now,”

“Well Rebecca gave me a call saying to tell Jamie to take the afternoon off and take care of you,” Ted said and before you could protest, he cut you off, “Its doctors orders, okay? Now scamp you too. And try take it easy, okay?”

You felt bad making Jamie miss the end of practise but right now football was the last thing on his mind. after dropping you off at his place and surrounding you with pillows and blankets Jamie went on a Tesco run for snacks.

When he got back you laughed when you saw the almost overflowing bag. “We’ve got enough to survive the winter,” you joked as he sat it down. “You’re spoiling me,”

“Never,” Jamie said with a bashful smile as he pulled out the flowers from behind his back, “Got ye these as well,”

“Aw Jamie,” you gushed, standing up to take them from him but you winced slightly as you did.

Instantly concern washed over his face as he grabbed your arm to steady you despite you not actually falling, “You alright love? I knew that women missed something. What hurts- “

“Jamie,” you interrupted him, cupping his face with your hands making him pause in his tracks, “I’m fine baby I swear. Are you?”

“Yeah, course I am,” he said, wrapping his arms around you, “I just don’t want you getting hurt and that. I just feel bad’s all,” he said, mumbling as he hugged you tighter.

You moved your head to rest on his shoulder, hugging him back, “But why?”

“You were there to see me and then you got hurt. I know how hard those balls can hit,” he said before sighing, “Its all my fault,” he mumbled making your heart break.

You pulled back only to pull him to sit on the couch next to you, placing the flowers on the coffee table, “It was an accident. It was no one’s fault,”

“It was colin’s fault,”

“It was no one’s fault,” you repeated, rolling your eyes with a small smile, “Now are you gonna sit and mope all day or are you gonna take care of me?”

Finally, a smile cracked onto his lips, “Thought it didn’t hurt anymore?”

“I lied,” you said, sinking back into the couch in a dramatic display, “I am wounded beyond belief. You’ll need to do everything I need,” you joked with a hand splayed across your head.

Jamie leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, “Don’t I always?” he smiled. “Want me to put those in some water?”

“Yes please,” you grinned as Jamie got up to sort out the flowers, but you called out before he could leave the room, “Can we have a movie night?”

“If that’s what the lady wants, that’s what the lady gets,” he grinned, “Just try not pick a total chick flick,” he added with a smirk that made you roll your eyes.

By the time he’d returned with drinks and a takeaway menu you already had 27 dresses queued up, “Oh c’mon,” Jamie protested as he dropped onto the couch beside you.

“Please, I’m injured,” you teased making him roll his eyes but finally agree. Despite his protests Jamie was more into the movie than you were and made you pinkie promise to pause it when he went to get the food when it arrived.

Four chick flicks and an unholy amount of food later you and Jamie were curled up on the couch under a pile of blankets. “Feeling better?” he murmured in your ear though you could hear from his voice he was already half asleep.

“Feeling perfect baby, thank you,”

“Anything for you,”

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[multi-kpop-fanfics]

Masquerade of the Sinners

pairing: ???!Joshua x fallen angel fem!reader

genre: smut. minors dni.

warnings: praise, dirty talk, mentions of incubus powers, unprotected sex (stay safe), creampie, sub!reader, dom!shua, religious imagery and defilement (again), making out, manhandling, spanking, squirting, overstimulation, hair pulling, mentions of blood and murder

word count: ~1.4k

summary: keeping up the appearances to deceive humans is joshua's expertise. but you have become the perfect apprentice, the mask of innocence bearing no cracks for the humans to gaze upon.

Author's note: hello beloveds <3 had a sudden burst of inspo thanks to the shua pics from the latest fansign and decided to expand a little on Fall From Grace :)

taglist: @junkissed @shuadotcom @bitchlessdino @duhnova

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations without permission allowed.

Another Sunday, another successful preaching from the altar.

A few months ago, Joshua was gagging at the idea of faking the role of a young and kind priest, devoted to God and His words. 

But now? After exposing himself to you and defiling you in a way only his kin know best, his daily life has become way more interesting.

It’s as if the bells of Apocalypse have rung in the Heavens and the archangels decided to send horde after horde of angels to execute him. Yet every single attempt has proven futile, with the heavenly creatures ending up lifeless in a pile of blood and pearly white feathers or breathless and full of his seed.

What’s even more amusing to him is that none of the puny humans around him have caught wind of his true nature.

“Hm. How foolish.” He chuckles to himself as he closes the small Bible in his hands. He goes to the small room where he keeps his robes and the rest of the books he uses for various ceremonies and other church activities.

Speaking of activities, he still despises the choir sessions. The gospels echoing from the mouths of the choir members and bouncing off the walls of the church always give him a headache, to the point of nosebleeds.

However, seeing some of the girls attend the choir just to ogle at him and purposefully wait during after hours to talk to him in private or for…other matters makes the whole choir experience a little more tolerable.

“Aren’t you tired of fooling around with these human weaklings, Joshua?”

You stand against the closed gates, leaning your back on the heavy wood.

Joshua’s lips curl into a wicked smirk. “Good evening, my dear. What brings you here tonight?”

“You know fully well why I’m here, you demonic creature.” You walk towards the altar and reach in front of him.

“Ah, of course. You want revenge for losing your status, don’t you?”

“Not just that.” You grit your teeth.

“What else then?” He asks, feigning innocence.

You gulp audibly, shame washing over your body when you remember the first time you let him ravage you like prey caught in a trap. 

You lift your shirt and lower your pants just enough to show him the two incubus tattoos engraved on your lower pelvis - a small heart surrounded by thorns and a star underneath their junction, connecting to another, larger heart with horns protruding. 

Joshua licks his lower lip hungrily. “So that is what you’re talking about.”

“You need to remove this, now.” You demand with a steady voice.

“I’m afraid I cannot do this, sweetheart.” He glues his eyes on you, irises glowing red. “The marks of an incubus are permanent once placed upon another body.”

“Liar, you were the one who put those marks in the first place! You must know how to take them away!” You raise your voice at him.

“The only way to not have these marks is to withstand and push away the charms of an incubus, Y/N. And as far as I remember, you did nothing of the aforementioned.” 

You feel your body lighting up on fire all of a sudden, heat starting to pool in your panties. No, he can’t be right.

“That’s the Gaze. Once someone looks at you lustfully, your entire body is immediately aroused.” Joshua explains.

“M-Make it stop.” Your voice comes out weaker than it was supposed to.

“I can make it stop for a while. But are you sure you want me to, pretty angel?”

You barely manage to suppress a whimper before pulling Joshua’s body flush to yours, smashing your lips to his with a carnal fervor. 

The last time you experienced this type of fervor was when he exposed his true nature to you.

Joshua moans in your mouth and wraps his tongue around yours, his arms grabbing your waist to manhandle you towards the altar.

He breaks the kiss and pins you on the sacred place, tracing his fingers over the larger mark.

“The one below is Trigger. There are two phrases I can say to you, each one with different effects.”

“W-What phrases are they?” You ask meekly.

“I already used the first one, angel. It was just to make you a tad bit hornier. The other one will just seal the deal.” He takes off his robes and reveals his chiseled body, along with his demonic horns.

“Joshua, s-stop making me beg already!” You kick your legs at him, but he grabs them by your thighs and reaches for the hem of your pants, pulling them down until they are completely off your body.

“That will happen too, sweetheart. But I wanna have fun with you first.”

He turns you around and pushes your head down on the altar, running his hands over the curve of your ass.

“For a fallen angel, you have an ass that would make even a succubus jealous.” He spanks your ass twice and then runs his hands over your back, raising your shirt to expose the scars on your back, where your wings once existed.

“You have been so good at blending in with the humans here and attending church every Sunday like a good little lamb, listening to my preachings as if I was your God.”

You let out a loud moan as you clench around emptiness, wetness starting to drip down your thighs. Joshua rips them in half with his hands and takes out his cock, rubbing the tip between your folds.

“Shua, please, fuck me, please!” You grip the edge of the altar, begging for something inside you.

Joshua lets out a deep chuckle. “Can’t deny you when you beg so prettily.” 

He slams his cock inside you with one fluid thrust, your thighs shaking from feeling full in a split second.

“You’re taking me even better than last time, little angel. I’m impressed.” He leans his torso on your back, caging you between the cold surface and his body. “You are just so good at everything, aren’t you?”

“T-Thank you, thank you so m-much, Shua.” You answer between short sobs, body jerking forward with each thrust he delivers.

“It’s so rewarding to see you don the pretty mask of the kind newcomer who is so pure and innocent, as if you were the new guardian angel of this town.” He grips your hair and pulls it violently. “Only for me to crush it into millions of pieces every night on this damn altar, like I’ve done with your former brothers and sisters.”

Under different circumstances, you would have driven a blade of Empyrean steel through his skull, but the nearly mind-numbing pleasure has made you a pliant mess in Joshua’s hands.

And you consciously love it.

It could be the marks on your body, but ever since you fell from Heaven, you’ve been craving his touch, his gaze, his voice, his everything.

“There is something about you that makes me want to keep you for myself, away from any living being, be it human, angel or even demon.” He admits between pants, a clear signal of his impending orgasm. 

“S-Shua, I- n-”

“I know, angel, I know.” He pants and lets go of your hair to wrap his arms around your torso and lift it off the altar, flush to his chest.

“I’m cumming!” You scream on top of your lungs, voice echoing in the empty church as you reach your climax and squirt all over the altar. Joshua doesn’t stop pistoning his hips against your ass, overstimulating you on purpose.

“You look so hot when you make a mess in God’s house, little lamb.” He moans in your ear and cums inside you, painting your insides white with his load. His hand caresses the glowing womb tattoos, the red sheen matching the one emitting from his hellish eyes.

You turn your head around and kiss him, teeth and tongue messily clashing with each other.

“I c-cannot see God anymore.” You confess breathlessly.

Joshua gives you a sardonic smile as he slips out of you and rolls you on your back so you can face him in all of his glory, his cum staining your legs.

“Your God stands in front of you, little lamb.”

[melzula]

The Search

part two

pairing: Zuko x princess!reader

notes: part two is finally here! hope you enjoy, and reminder that not everything from the comics is covered in these pieces so i suggest reading the search to better your experience :) also if you’d like to be removed from the taglist pls let me know!

summary: the group arrives in Hira’a where the Princess’s patience is tested by Azula

~ part of the fire lilies series~

It had been an eventful morning to say the least.

Azula’s frenzied outburst had led to your group having to put out the fires left in her wake, and though it was obvious she was clearly unfit to travel, Zuko insisted that everything was fine. You would continue your journey to Hira’a as planned, and without further discussion you found yourself back on Appa’s saddle flying towards the small town.

This trip was turning out to be much more eventful than you had originally anticipated, but still you tried your best to mask your apprehensions in support of Zuko’s search for his mother. However, you could sense that there was now something different about Zuko, as if a change had occurred overnight while you were sleeping, but if there was such a change he said nothing of it.

“You missed breakfast this morning,” you remind him as you place a mango in his lap and sit beside him on the saddle. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m not sure,” he laments quietly, staring down contemplatively at the fruit. “So far this trip isn’t going the way I pictured it.”

“It hasn’t been perfect,” you agree with a shrug, “but it could be worse. There’s still time to turn it around.”

“I wish I had your optimism.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you counter with a teasing smile, “to balance out your negativity.”

“Two halves of a whole,” he replies with a quiet laugh. Despite the events of this morning and the contents of Azula’s scroll, Zuko’s mood is already beginning to improve. Maybe you’re right, and things will get better before the trip is over, but there’s still work to do, so your group will just have to wait and see.

After finally arriving to Hira’a, Zuko suggests you all work to conceal your identities in order to avoid drawing attention to your group, and so you put on a Fire Nation style dress and remove any trace of your water tribe identity. The act is reminiscent to your time hiding in the Fire Nation after your breakup, but you try not to think too much about that as you attempt to tie a top knot in your hair.

“Allow me,” Zuko offers with a fond smile, taking the ribbon from your hands and carefully pulling back your hair before beginning to style the knot. His movements are gentle in order to avoid pulling your hair, and you’re immediately able to relax at the feeling of his touch.

“Thank you,” you say, ignoring the look of disgust Azula sends your way. It’s obvious she still isn’t very fond of your relationship with her brother, but you try your best to pay her no mind and focus on the task at hand.

“I thought Hira’a was supposed to be a small town,” Aang notes curiously as your group begins to walk into the bustling community, “why is it so crowded?”

“Looks like they’re performing some kind of play!”

“I recognize that scene!” Zuko exclaims with a smile. “It’s the final battle in Love Amongst the Dragons.”

You smile as a wave of nostalgia washes over you at the mention of the play. Though you’d never seen the performance yourself, Zuko often took it upon himself to reenact it for you during his visits to the South when you were children. If she was in a good mood and had nothing better to do, Azula too would sometimes join in on the reenactment as the part of the Dragon Emperor. It was their mother’s favorite play, and it was something Zuko felt he could share with you so that you could know her the way he did. You never got the chance to meet her, but you felt like you knew her from all the times he had talked about her.

When the play is over and the crowd begins to disperse, your group begins asking the remaining locals about any information they may have concerning Ursa. Though you’re mostly given pure rumors and speculation, a man by the name of Noren seems to be your best bet at discovering her whereabouts.

“I’m the director of the Hira’a acting troupe,” he says as he shakes Zuko’s hand. “Ursa was once a member.”

“Really?” Zuko asks with a surprised smile.

“That’s right!” A nearby local exclaims, clearly eavesdropping on the conversation. “She always wanted to play the Dragon Empress, but she never got the chance!”

“We should find a quiet place to talk, away from the crowds,” Noren suggests in response to the eavesdropper. “You’re all welcome to my home. We’ll share some tea and I’ll tell you everything I know.”

“It would be an honor. Thank you,” Zuko says gratefully before your group begins to follow the man to his home.

It seems you were right about still being able to turn this trip around for good. Because of Noren, Zuko is one step closer to finding his mother.

Thank the spirits for your optimism.

~~~

Noren’s home is the perfect place to relax after the eventful morning you’ve had, and you’re grateful for his wife Noriko’s tea and hospitality. Your friends sit spread out around the home conversing and enjoying their drinks, and you find yourself being kept company by the couple’s adorable daughter Kiyi and her doll little Kiyi.

“I like little Kiyi’s dress,” you tell her with a sincere smile, “you both match beautifully.”

“Thanks! She likes your dress too! She thinks you’re pretty.”

“Why thank you, little Kiyi,” you giggle. “You’re a wonderful hostess.”

“Hey, do you think your boyfriend would wanna meet my doll?”

“I’m sure he’d love to,” you smile, and when Kiyi holds out her little hand for you to take you graciously accept her invitation to get up and follow her to where Zuko and Azula are seated on the floor.

“Wanna meet my doll?” She asks as you sit yourself beside him.

“Of course,” he replies as Azula answers with a “No” at the same moment.

“This is Kiyi!”

“I thought your name was Kiyi,” Zuko notes with a chuckle as the little girl proudly displays her doll for him to see.

“It’s such a good name I used it twice!”

“It certainly is a lovely name,” you agree fondly much to Kiyi’s joy.

“Yes, but I must admit that little Kiyi has a very interesting… haircut,” the Fire Lord notes with an amused smile, carefully running his finger along doll’s the frayed strands of hair.

“I wanted to make her prettier, but it didn’t turn out very good,” the girl says with a frown.

“I still think she’s pretty,” you console with a genuine smile, “you just need to style her hair is all.”

“Really? Could you do that?” Kiyi asks in astonishment.

“My sister used to do stuff like that,” Zuko says in passing, prompting a sly smirk to form on Azula’s face at the mention.

“That’s right. Only I didn’t give them haircuts, I gave them headcuts!” She remarks snidely. “Would you like me to show you?”

“No!” Kiyi cries, immediately clutching her doll close to her chest and hiding behind you for protection.

“Azula, stop it!” Zuko scolds.

“Haven’t you terrorized enough dolls?” You accuse, recalling how she had beheaded your favorite doll when you were children. It had crushed you, and you weren’t about to let her do the same to poor Kiyi.

“That was ages ago, y/n. Don’t be so dramatic,” Azula dismisses you with a wave of her hand.

“You really haven’t changed,” you huff much to Zuko’s dismay. He feels guilty for having to put you through all of this, and though he had hoped this trip would be a chance for Azula to redeem herself it seemed now that that was unlikely.

“Kiyi,” Noren says as he enters the room with Sokka following close behind him, “are you being hospitable to our guests?”

"I’m trying!” She insists exasperatedly prompting you to frown.

“She’s the perfect hostess, Noren,” you assure him with a smile, your compliment alleviating some of Kiyi’s stress.

“Will you play dolls with me? I have an extra one you can borrow,” she asks.

“Of course, I’d be honored,” you smile, laughing quietly at the way she immediately bolts out of the room in search of her spare doll.

“You’re so… good with her,” Zuko notes quietly. “It almost seems to come naturally for you.”

“Well, teaching a new generation of children to water bend is certainly good practice,” you explain fondly.

The mention of your students has you feeling homesick, and you can’t help but wonder how your tribe was doing without you. You left them in the care of Hakoda and Pakku, so you knew they were in good hands, but a part of you still worried. The last time you’d been away from home things hadn’t gone so well, but you hoped this time would be different.

“I guess that’s true,” he notes with a chuckle, but his heart is full of admiration for you. Your gentle nature and kind heart are what he loves most about you, and seeing you interact with Kiyi only strengthens the adoration he has for you. He briefly begins to imagine what you’d be like as a mother, but he’s quick to remind himself to stay focused on the task at hand.

Your group learns from Noren and Noriko that Ursa was once a famous member of the Hira’a acting troupe, but her career was cut short when she was taken away to the Capital City and married into the royal family. No one truly knows what happened to her or her boyfriend Ikem, but some believe the two ran off to the Forgetful Valley. The story is pure speculation, but it’s enough to give Zuko a sense of what his next step in finding his mother should be.

You all are sure to thank the couple for their help and hospitality, and as you turn to leave a tug at your dress has you halting in your tracks.

“Will you and Zuko come again?” Kiyi pleads. “Please, please, please!”

“I really hope so, Kiyi,” he says with a smile.

“I promise I will do my absolute best to come and visit you again,” you assure her, and with that you and your friends depart from the family’s home and head for Appa.

“Ugh, more than once tonight I was tempted to burn that whole place down!” Azula scoffs in disgust. “But I resisted for you, Zuzu. I hope you appreciate it.”

“Azula!” You exclaim in shock at her words. “What an awful thing to say!”

“How could you even think that about such a lovely family?!” Katara cries angrily.

“Oh please, their charade disgusted me. Nobody’s that happy!”

“Aang and I are that happy!” Katara rebuffs only for Azula to scoff.

“Because you two are idiots,” she states plainly as if it’s the most obvious observation.

“Does that make Zuko and I idiots as well?” You counter, arms crossing over your chest indignantly.

“No, you and Zuko are a mistake,” she corrects you with a snide smirk. “Unnatural and unfit for each other.“

Though you’d learned early on to have a thick skin when it came to Azula, there was something about her words that got to you in a way she hadn’t been able to do since you were children. Your eyes zero in on her cruel smile and your hands begin to clench at your sides as you stare the girl down.

“What did you say?” You utter through gritted teeth, your sudden change in demeanor surprising even Katra.

“You must not be as smart as I thought if you honestly think you’re meant to be together,” she taunts with a sneer. “A Water Tribe Chief and the Fire Lord? What a joke.”

“Azula, that’s enough,” Katara attempts to intervene to no avail as you feed right into Azula’s mind games.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Zuko loves me.”

Your body feels as if it’s on fire as a result of her words, your chest tightening and fingertips beginning to curl instinctually for a fight. You know she’s just trying to get a reaction out of you, and yet you can’t help the anger and despair they bring you. Could it be the reason you were reacting so strongly to her words was because you knew there was some ounce of truth to them?

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Azula shrugs with a passive smile that only infuriates you further.

Sensing the rising tension amongst his friends and Azula, Sokka is quick to approach Aang and Zuko who are having a conversation a ways ahead of the group. “How much longer do you plan to keep this crew together, Zuko? I give it another two minutes tops before something’s either on fire or encased in ice!”

“One more place to visit and then we’re done,” he assures his friend. “We’re going to Forgetful Valley.”

Katara is sure to separate you from Azula as you climb onto Appa’s saddle and attempt to cool off from your spat. Across the way the fire bender sits with a smug smile on her face, clearly aware that she’d gotten under your skin like she’d been trying to do since seeing you again.

“You know she’s just trying to get a reaction out of you, don’t listen to her,” Katara consoles. “Zuko adores you, and nothing’s going to change that.”

“Do you really think the Fire Lord and the Chief can be together?” You ask, a sense of defeat in your tone. “Is it really possible?”

Your lack of usual optimism and confidence catches Katara off guard. She hadn’t heard you sound this despondent since you joined their team after your breakup with Zuko in Ba Sing Se. It worried her, and she wasn’t exactly sure what to say to make it better. Azula really had gotten under your skin.

“You and Zuko are meant to be together,”she says with a reassuring smile, “you wouldn’t have made it this far through everything that’s been thrown your way if you weren’t.”

Sensing her sincerity and acknowledging the truth to her words, your nerves begin to dissipate and you finally find yourself able to relax. Katara was right, you and Zuko had managed to overcome every hurdle in your relationship, and nothing was going to change that.

“Princess,” Zuko calls gently, and Katara takes this as her cue to leave. Taking her place beside you, he removes his cloak and drapes it carefully over your shoulders to ensure you stay warm during the flight to Forgetful Valley. “I’m sorry about my sister, I should have stopped her from speaking to you that way.”

“It’s alright,” you reply with a meek smile. It really isn’t, but Zuko has a lot on his plate and the last thing you want is to pile onto it. You can swallow your hurt and your anger for his sake.

“We should be arriving to Forgetful Valley by morning,” he informs you, “I think you should try and get some rest.”

“I don’t think I can sleep,” you admit dejectedly, contemplatively staring down at your scars. “Too much excitement at once, I suppose.”

“Then I’ll keep you company,” he insists with a gentle smile. “And when you do fall asleep I’ll be here to chase the nightmares away should they come.”

“Thank you, my love,” you utter gratefully, immediately melting into his touch when he cups your face in his hands and pulls you in for a tender kiss.

And unbeknownst to either of you, Azula looks on from across Appa’s saddle with a scowl on her face and a vengeful glint in her eyes.

| atla taglist: @rainteslerrrr @simpinforsukka @sirkekselord @protect-remus @chronic-daydreamer

| zuko taglist: @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @coldlilheart @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @zukh03s @taeeemin @user12345321

| fire lilies taglist: @titaniafire @dekahg @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @lozzybowe @izzieserra @melacholy @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @djskfkdkkf @xapham @yeetletzgetitjae @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal @chilifrylizard2 @kyomihann @kaylove12 @kiwihoee @freggietale @neighborhoodpansexualdisaster @noodlesfluffy @moon-spirit-yue @bubblegum-bee-otch @zukoslosthishonor @ibelievein2dmensupremacy

*if your user is crossed out it means i couldn’t tag you*

[ravencoloredroses]

Experiment

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Az is gone on a mission and two people from the past decide to pay the reader a visit to do some experiments…..

Warnings: fire, blood, swearing

Word Count: 4,258

A/N: Here’s my first Az fic! This one’s really angsty with a hint of fluff. Thanks for reading!!! I hope you like it! <3

—��———————————————————————

The morning sunshine wakes me up before my alarm. I roll over to my mate's side of bed to snuggle into his warmth, but I only find a cold and empty spot. He’s gone. Well, not gone, he’s out on a mission. Has been for a while.

Something about making sure the Autumn Court is sticking to our agreement, at least that’s what I remember him telling me. That was 2 weeks ago, Az has been gone for 2 whole weeks.

I know not to worry, he’s literally the spymaster of the Night Court. But he’s also my best friend, my mate, and every second he’s not with me I don’t feel like myself.

Our family has been trying to cheer me up, it’s not really working but I still appreciate it. Feyre took me to a painting class, which I was actually really excited for! That was before the instructor told us to paint what we envision our future to look like, then I wasn’t so excited.

He’s never been away this long before, and if he was sent on a longer mission, he took me with him. This one I wasn’t allowed to come along, Azriel said so himself. I tried not to feel upset that he didn’t want me there, because I know he’s doing it to protect me. The Autumn Court is not exactly the safest place right now, especially for the mate of the Night Court’s spymaster.

With a grunt I roll out of bed, not interested in facing this day at all. I stumble over to the bathroom and try not to look at myself in the mirror. I know I look awful. It’s hard enough to get out of bed most days, let alone take care of myself.

Turning on the water in the bathtub, I let it burn my skin before turning it colder. Washing myself with his soaps has always been a comfort for me. Surrounding myself with things that smell of him is the only reason I survive when he’s gone. The bond between us has been gray since he left. I know that he has to close it when he leaves, but it still hurts every time I look at it.

Once the water has gone cold and my fingers start to prune is when I decide to get out. I reach over and grab his robe, it drags on the floor as I wrap it around myself. Getting dressed in our closet, I pick out an actual outfit instead of just something of Azriel’s to sleep in. The plan today is to try to leave the house and go grocery shopping. I’ve been struggling to make things to eat with whatever scraps we have lying around.

Azriel and I live on the outskirts of Velaris, away from most people. We picked this house for privacy, but that also means that most stores are like 20 miles away. That’s fine when you have an Illyrian mate with huge wings, but when he’s not here I have to walk into town.

Finally picking out a decent outfit, black leggings and a huge oversized cream sweater. It was a gift Azriel got from Mor a couple Starfall’s ago, but she bought it without looking for wing holes, now it’s mine. It doesn’t smell like him though, so I walk over to our dresser, grab his cologne and spritz a little of it on me.

Next I move onto my hair, or should I say rats nest. Ripping out a few chunks as I struggle to brush it, I quickly braid it back out of my face. Once I’m satisfied with my appearance, I head out of the house to finally find something to eat.

About 20 minutes into my walk I hear a pair of footsteps behind me. Trying to nonchalantly look and see who it is, I see a hooded figure about 10 feet behind me. I break out into a jog, attempting to put some distance between us and I hear their footsteps pick up the pace with me.

As I’m rounding a corner, another hooded figure comes out in front of me. I stop dead in my tracks, nowhere to go. “Don’t try anything stupid.” The one in front of me says. “This will all be over soon.”

I’m about to respond when a white powder is thrown over me. Faebane. Screaming out to Rhys in my mind, hoping, praying, that he can hear me. The last thing I remember was being picked up in someone’s arms and them saying, “Not so strong without your spymaster, aren’t you?”

Then everything went black.

— —

I’m jolted awake by a bucket of water splashing on me. I try to move my arms, but soon realize that they are tied together so tight I can’t move a muscle. “Thank you for joining us, my dear.” My captor says. I pry my eyes open and look at my surroundings.

I’m in some kind of basement, a cell, the only door I see is behind a wall of metal bars. My hair is yanked to force my head up, and I see the person's face for the first time.

“Well aren’t you pretty, looks like our step brother has done something right for once.” Step brother? Are these… Azriel’s step brothers?

“What do you want?” I spit out trying not to show how scared I am. These are the people who put Azriel in the most excruciating pain he’s ever been in, the people who caused the scars on his hands.

Out of the corner of my eye I see another person walk into the light. When I can finally see both faces, the one gripping my hair throws me back down on the ground. ”What do we want?” The one in the back laughs. “We want to do a little experiment.” With every word they speak I can feel my heartbeat growing faster. I’m realizing that there’s no getting out of this situation without being hurt.

“You see, when we found out our little brother had a mate, we wanted to put that bond between you to the test. So we came up with a plan: wait for Azriel to leave for a mission, capture you, and then do our experiment here. Only problem was that your special Highlord placed wards on your house so we had to wait until you left the house. And for whatever reason, you decided to stay inside for two weeks, only leaving while accompanied by your Highlady.”

“Today is finally the day brother,” He says, looking over to the other one. “Let’s say that step one is completed, and move on to step two.” He looks at me again while the other brother leaves the room.

“Now, here’s where you come in. I’m sure Azriel has told you of our first experiment with him about 500 years or so ago.” He brings over a chair and sits down in front of me. “Well we’re going to recreate that today, but with a twist.” The other brother comes back with a bucket and a book of matches.

I swallow the lump in my throat and try once again to call out to Rhys for help, but the faebane must not be out of my system yet. With Az gone they rarely check on me, so they won’t notice I’m missing. Fabulous.

“Oh sweetie, don’t be scared! Your precious mate went through this exact same thing. Now, we could make this quick, but we really don’t want to. I understand you’re not fully High Fae, so I am interested to see how your healing properties work. Let’s begin shall we?” He gestures over to the brother holding the bucket to come over.

My heart is now beating so loud, I bet they can hear it. Running out of options, I try the only thing I can think of. Begging. “Please. You don’t want to do this. If- if I die, Azriel will hunt you down and torture you for years before he kills you.”

They both laugh. The one with the bucket sets it down in front of me and I can smell what’s in it. Gasoline. He grabs my chin so I look up at him. “That’s a lot of confidence you have in him. Who’s to say he’ll ever find your body? We plan on keeping you here for our… uses… for a while, my dear.” He lets go of my chin roughly and reaches behind him to grab his knife.

“First thing to go is gonna be these awful clothes.” He says as he uses his knife to cut away at my sweater, leaving me in just a bra from the waist up. I can feel cuts on my chest drip with blood, he wasn’t careful with cutting it off. “Alright, now that that’s taken care of, let’s get started.”

Now I’m terrified. I never got to say goodbye to my family, never got to say goodbye to Az. “Wh-what kind of experiment are you gonna do?” I try stalling.

“We wanna see if your mating bond will transfer your pain over to Azriel. And then if he has the power to figure out your location from the bond as well. Since Azriel has been through our first experiment, he should recognize the pain you feel.” He stays standing up and pushing his chair away.

“W-well with the faebane in my system, the b-bond won’t feel anything. N-not until it w-wears off.” I struggle to get out, shaking because of the freezing temperatures. The brothers look at each other.

“I thought you didn’t use that much?”

“I didn’t!”

“I can still smell it on her! Now we have to wait even longer!” They argue back and forth. “Okay, we’ll be back in about an hour. Let’s hope it wears off by then.” He says as they both leave, locking the door behind them.

I feel tears start to pool in my eyes, and as they fall down my face they freeze on my cold skin. Trying to think of what Az would do in this situation, I realize he was in this situation. Granted he was a boy, but still, he’s been tortured by these same people and couldn’t escape. So why should I even bother trying. I’m still thinking of a plan as I feel my eyes grow heavy and my heart beat unnaturally slow. Then everything goes black, again.

— —

Azriel’s POV

Finally finished with my mission, I make a mental note to beat the shit out of Rhys. ‘It’s a simple mission, shouldn’t take too long’ he said to me, what a lie that was. What should have only been 3 to 4 days turned into 2 weeks. Flying back home from Autumn I only want one thing, my mate. She’s all I could think about while I was gone.

I reach the front steps of our house and open up my end of our bond. Normally, she would feel me and come running down to meet me outside. Maybe she’s asleep.

I unlock the door and my shadows go searching the house. They come flying back informing me that she’s not here.

Deciding that she must be out with Feyre, I head over to the House of Wind to debrief with Rhys and Cassian. Walking in I see Feyre, Nesta and Mor playing with Nyx on the floor in the living room. “Hey Az! You’re back!” Feyre jumps up to greet me. “Where’s y/n?” She asks.

“I thought she was with you?” I replied. “I was just at our house and she wasn’t there. I figured she’d be here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Az, but I haven’t seen her since last week.” Mor says standing up.

“Last week? Have any of you seen her since then?” I ask the room. Just then Rhys and Cassian come walking in.

“Hey brother, welcome back. Wanna head to the office to debrief with us?”

“Have you guys seen y/n recently?” Feyre asks her mate.

“No. I haven’t seen her in a while actually. Why? Is everything okay?”

“She wasn’t at our house just now and I came here because this is where I thought she would be. I opened up my end of the bond again but hers is still closed.” I say, now pacing the room.

“Az, I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she’s just out shopping or something. Why don’t we come to the office, I’m sure she’ll turn up before we’re done.” Rhys stops my pacing with a hand on my shoulder. “Come on brother, let’s go discuss your mission.”

Deciding that he’s probably right and that she’s probably just shopping, I follow my brothers into Rhys’ office to debrief them on my mission.

— —

Reader’s POV

Once again I’m woken up by water thrown on my face. It stings when it gets into the cuts littering my body which have somehow multiplied since I was last awake. “Welcome back, darling.” One of the brothers says. “Hopefully your system is all clear of faebane, so we can begin our experiment.” The second brother comes up behind him holding the bucket and match book again. He stands in front of me with an evil grin on his face. “This may hurt a little.” He laughs and then pours the bucket of gasoline all over my hands. My heart rate picks up as he now holds up a match.

“Please. Please don’t do this. I’ll do anything.” I plead. They don’t even respond, they just light the match.

I’ve felt pain before in my life, but nothing has ever compared to this. I watch the match fall onto my hands in slow motion and the only thing I can do is scream. I try to put out the fire, but I’m fully strapped to a chair now and I can’t move anywhere. The pain is getting so unbearable, I feel my skin melting away. I hear the metal bars slam shut as the brothers move to the other side of the cage to watch. I’m crying out for mercy, for Azriel, for Rhys, for anybody.

“No one’s gonna help you honey!”

“Looks like your mating bond doesn’t do shit!”

They laugh as I scream louder and louder. Praying to anyone who will listen, wishing that this ends soon.

— —

Azriel’s POV

Sitting in Rhys’ office, I get a weird feeling in my chest. I try my best to ignore it, but a few moments later I feel an excruciating pain in my hands. Screaming out for it to stop, Rhys and Cassian both come rushing over.

“Az! Az! What is it? What’s wrong?” Rhys asks, standing over me.

“My- my hands!” I cry out. I lift up my hands to show them and see that there’s nothing on them, nothing causing the pain.

“What? What’s wrong with your hands??” Cassian tries to keep me from collapsing. I can’t respond because another wave of pain courses through me, this time in my chest. I feel y/n’s side of the mating bond open and I immediately fall down on the ground. The familiar pain in my hands tells me everything I need to know. Somehow, someway, someone is hurting my mate in the same way I was. And I know exactly who that someone is.

“Az, she’s reaching out to me! I don’t think she can hear me, but she’s talking to me.” Rhys says, leaning over beside me. “Can you tell where she is? All I can see is a cell, I- I can’t see anything else.”

The only thing I can do is nod my head in response as I shoot up and fly out the open window. Not caring if my brothers are following me, although I’m sure they are. My only thought is to get to my y/n, now.

— —

Reader’s POV

Just as the fire is about to die out, one of the brothers comes back in the room and dumps more gasoline on my hands, igniting the fire once again. He retreats back behind the bars as I scream my head off. Any hope of being saved has gone out the window. No one probably even knows I’m missing, let alone looking to find me. I’ve opened my end of our bond in hopes Az can feel me, but I can’t even tell if his side is open or not.

Just when I’m about to give into the urge to let go, I hear a blast against the wall of the cell. I struggle to see through my tears, but I can see 3 winged figures coming in from the hole in the wall. I feel a cooling presence creep up to my hands and extinguish the flame. When I can finally look up again, I see two of the new winged males taking away my captors and the third winged male comes over to me slowly.

“Please, help me.” I whisper to the mystery male. “I don’t wanna die.” He comes closer and unties the straps holding me down then lifts me into his arms. As he holds me I immediately know who it is. “Az? I-Is that you?”

“It’s me little dove, just hold on, okay? I’m gonna get you out of here, just don’t close your eyes. Keep looking at me, don’t stop looking at me.” He says while soothing my hair back. I didn’t even realize we started flying until I felt the wind against my burns. “Az, I-It hurts so bad.”

“I know, I know it does. You’re gonna be alright, love. You just gotta hold on a little while longer, okay? We’re almost there.” His voice sounds hoarse like he’s been screaming as well. He picks up speed and the gust of wind makes my hands burn even worse. It gets harder and harder to keep my eyes open.

“I love you, Azriel.” I say, as the world goes black.

— —

“She should be awake by now, something’s wrong.”

“Az, she’s fine, just give her some time. She’ll wake up soon”

I hear muffled voices say around me. Without even opening my eyes, I know where I am. Home. I can feel my hands are in bandages, so tight I can’t move them. I hear a door close and then somebody sits down next to me.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, I-I’ll never be able to forgive myself. I promised to keep you safe and then this happens. I just want you to be okay, please just be okay.” Azriel whispers. I can tell he’s crying now and all I want to do is hold him. I realize that his end of the bond is now wide open, so I send a rush of the love I feel for him down. I hear him gasp. “Y/N? Y/N can you hear me?” He asks.

I struggle to open my eyes, but I finally do. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the lighting, and then I see him. My mate, looking like he hasn’t left my side since I’ve been here. “Hey.” I managed to say. He places my face between his hands and presses a kiss to my forehead.

“I love you so fucking much.” He whispers. “I’m so, so, so sorry that this happened to you, my love. I will do everything I can to make it right.” He leans back and looks into my eyes.

“I love you so fucking much too. I’m sorry that I gave up-“

“No. Do not say you’re sorry. Never say you’re sorry. Never.” He cuts me off.

“How long was I out?” I change the subject, arguing right now doesn’t feel like the best idea.

“Five days. I’ve been here the whole time.” He says. I move over a little bit to make room for him to be on the bed next to me. “Sweetheart, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Please. I just need you to hold me.” I plead.

He slowly leans over to lay down beside me. “You know I can’t say no when you look at me like that.” He laughs as he pulls me into his arms. I bring my bandaged hands between us so I can snuggle into his chest more. He gently grabs one and places a kiss on my bandaged knuckles.

I bury my head into his neck and he places his chin on the crown of my head. “Madja says that she may be able to remove some of the scars with a tonic.” I take a second to think.

“Do you want me to try it? I know how you feel about your hands, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable…”

“Look at me.” He pulls back and lifts my chin up so our eyes meet. “You could never make me uncomfortable. I will always be here for you, for as long as you want me around.” He gently presses his lips to mine in a loving and tender kiss. After we pull away, I sink back down into his chest and fall asleep. I’m finally right where I belong.

— —

I walk into Madja’s clinic with Az right behind me. It’s been about 3 days since I woke up and I’m tired of these bandages.

“Hello!” Madja greets us. “Okay, let’s take a look at those hands.”

Az helps me hop up onto the counter and then stands next to me. He places a hand on my knee and comfortingly smooths my skin with his thumb. As she cuts away the wrapping, Azriel freezes. I look over at him to avoid seeing my hands. When all the bandages are off, his eyes start welling with tears.

“Well my dear, it looks a little worse than I would have hoped. It should be mostly healed by now.” Madja examines my hands.

My eyes widen at her words and I slowly look down. I can barely even recognize my own hands. The skin has been completely melted off and has been taken down to the muscle. Pus and blood are oozing out and even my fingerprints are gone. Gasping, I look back up to Azriel and find him already looking at me.

“Is there anything you can do?” He asks Madja. She gives a sigh and rummages around in the cabinets behind her. I didn’t even realize I was crying until Az wiped my tears away. He places a kiss into my hair and wraps an arm around my waist.

Madja returns with a glass bottle in her hand. “The only thing I can think of is this.” She says holding up the bottle. “It’s a little strong so it will be painful to apply, but it will help it heal faster.”

I swallow the lump in my throat and look up to Az. “Whatever you wanna do, little dove. Whatever you wanna do.” He says rubbing circles on my back.

I sigh heavily and nod to Madja. She gives me a sympathetic smile back and gently grabs my wrist to pull it closer to her. I squeeze my eyes shut as I anticipate the pain. The first drop onto my hands causes me to flinch away and scream.

“Y/N, I need you to stay still for me to be able to do this. Azriel you might have to hold her down.” Madja looks up at him. He places a kiss on my forehead and reaches over to grasp my wrists.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He cries. I bite down on my scream when she pours the liquid again. I put my head down on Az’s arm that stretched in front of me.

“Make it stop! Please stop! I-I can’t take it anymore!” I cry out.

“I know, I’m so sorry. She’s almost done. You can do this.”

After what feels like a lifetime, Madja finishes and wraps my hands back up. When she leaves, Az pulls me into a hug.

“Thank you, Az. I-I don’t know what I would do without you.” I move to kiss his cheek, but he backs up.

“This happened to you because of me. You’re in pain because of me!”

“Hey, don’t say that. That’s not true-“

“It is y/n. It is true. This only happened because of us, because of who you are to me.” He yells.

“Azriel. Come over here.” He slowly walks to stand between my knees. I put my arms around his waist and he does the same. “I love you. This is not your fault. It’s not my fault, it’s not Rhys’ fault. Your step brothers are at fault. This happened because of them, because of their sick and twisted minds. Don’t you ever blame yourself for this. Ever.”

He sighs and kisses my head. After a while of silently embracing each other, I ask the question that’s been on my mind since I woke up. “What happened to them?” I feel him stiffen around me.

“They’re still alive, for now. Rhys and Cas put them in my chamber in Hewn City. I wanted to wait to see what you wanted me to do.” He starts to smooth a comforting hand up and down my back. I place a kiss onto his collarbone in thanks and pull back to see his face.

“Well, I told them that you would ‘torture them for years before you kill them’ so… make them suffer… for as long as possible.”

He smirks down at me and places his lips on mine.

“That’s my mate.”

[gunnerfc]

❄️ WOSO FICMAS: Dec. 22 - Georgia Stanway❄️

Georgia Stanway x Reader (Bayern & Lioness) | WC: 836

Dec. 22 prompt - baking cookies

-> woso ficmas masterlist can be found here!

Whoever on your team decided that you and Georgia should be in charge of baking cookies clearly wanted you to suffer. You had about three days before the team would be bringing some sort of dessert or baked goods to training to have a little holiday party before everyone departed for the break. You had sent Georgia to the store to get the ingredients that you needed but when she called you three times to ask questions, you knew this was going to be a rough experience.

You waited until the day before to start baking, not wanting to have the cookies done too soon before you needed them. You didn’t allow Georgia to help, knowing your girlfriend would take the opportunity to mess with you.

Georgia sat on the kitchen counter, watching you prep the kitchen to start making the cookies. The midfielder eyed the bag of flour you had sitting next to her, tempted to throw a bit at you when you were least expecting it. You had your back to her as you washed your hands so you didn’t notice when she poured a bit of flour into her hand.

You turned around to grab the towel to dry your hands as you felt powder hitting your face. You stood for a moment, face covered in flour as you heard Georgia trying (and failing) to hold her laughter in.

“See babe! I told you it would snow!” your girlfriend joked, giving up on holding her laughter in.

You sighed at her statement and turned back to the sink to wash your face off. This time when you turned to reach for the hand towel, Georgia kept her hands to herself and let you be. You dried your hands and face, refusing to look at your girlfriend who had a bright smile on her face.

You tried to focus on the directions in front of you but your girlfriend who was loudly singing behind you made it difficult. You rolled your eyes at her antics, doing your best to tune her out.

“Hey babe, would you still love me if I was a worm?” the midfielder randomly asked as she stopped singing.

“What the hell are you talking about,” you groaned, throwing a look in her direction.

“It’s a simple question! Would you still love me if I was a worm, yes or no?” Georgia spoke, repeating her question like it made complete sense.

“No, I don’t think I would still love you if you were a worm, babe,” you huffed, turning your focus back to what you were making.

Georgia gasped dramatically from behind you as if you offended her with your answer. When you didn’t give her a reaction, she hopped off the counter and moved so she was standing right behind you. You could feel her breath on the back of your neck and you felt your face heat up at her closeness.

“Babe. babe. Babeeeee” Gerogia whined in your ear, bored out of her mind.

“Love, please just let me finish and then we can do whatever you want,” you tried your best to ignore the begging.

Georgia huffed this time, moving away slightly and you thought you would finally have some peace to finish mixing all the ingredients. You were sorely mistaken when you felt an egg crack on your head. Neither of you moved, both in shock. You heard Georgia snicker behind you and you turned to face her.

Your girlfriend was half expecting you to tell her off but her surprise when you threw a handful of flour at her was better than yelling. You both stood in the middle of the kitchen, now wearing the ingredients you needed to bake cookies.

“You're gonna regret that, love,” Georgia smirked at you, reaching past you to grab the entire bag of flour.

“Wait, G. Let's talk about this, I was just getting payback,” you tried to persuade your girlfriend into putting the bag down but it was no use.

Before you could even attempt to move out of the way, Georgia dumped the entire bag over your head, covering you with flour. You stood in shock as the midfielder howled with laughter at your current state. You shook your head to try and shake off some of the flour before looking up at your girlfriend.

Georgia could see the devious glint in your eyes as you rushed into her, wrapping your arms around her body essentially getting flour all over her. The two of you went back and forth coating each other in various foods, wasting the ingredients you had bought to make cookies for the team.

You ended up having to wake up earlier than normal to rush to the store to buy store-made cookies and get rid of the packaging to try and pass them off as homemade. No one but Georgia knew the truth and you had to force her to not tell everyone that you didn’t make the cookies like you were supposed to.

[teddyduchampsglasses]

charlie dalton comforting the reader through a panic attack? <3

Charlie Dalton Comforting The Reader Through A Panic Attack

Paring: Charlie Dalton x gender neutral reader

Movie: Dead Poets Society

Summary: As the title says, this is what it would be like if Charlie Dalton were to comfort you through a panic attack

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of panic attacks

Word count: 1,038

Charlie has learned the ins and outs of your mind, especially your emotions, including when your brain goes into its ultimate panic mode. The first time one of these attacks accrued, Charlie was scared shitless, his brain racing as he stressed about what move to make that wouldn't effect you in a negative way. He did his best to hide his own panicked emotions, but they easily seeped through his whole charade when he would whisper things like "oh God" or "shit" under his breath, or when his hands began to shake and his voice began to quiver. He was trembling almost as much as you were. And his actions only made you feel worse, sadness washing over you when you observed how you affected him in that moment, making you feel like a burden to your boyfriend as he too became anxious and fearful.

But, after a while, once he had been there to experience a few more of these attacks, he quickly learned exactly how to operate and what actions to take to calm your nerves and lighten the mood.

Charlie has never been too good with the whole "expressing your emotions" and "explaining your feelings" ordeal, never knowing what words to use or how to phrase his sentences to perfectly portray his sentiment. He often stutters or stumbles through his sentences when ever he feels the need to express himself, and these quirks only worsen under pressure, often ending in him slapping his palm across his mouth or upon his forehead as a result to his awkwardness. So, due to this fact, he's become skilled at cheering you up in other ways, using tactics that don't involve him speaking all too much.

Taking the situation into account, analyzing just how stressed and anxious you may be, touching and holding you is often not the best option for Charlie, it is a path he quickly learned not to take. Panic attacks are seemingly the only time Charlie can keep his hands off you, any other time he has you in his grasp, always holding your hand, hugging you, playing with your hair, anything, it’s always something, but he would never want to upset you or make your situation any worse, so he tends to keep away from those types of actions when you're in such an emotional state. So, with his lack of communication and no physical affection allowed rule, that only leaves a few more options available for the male.

Compliments, loads of compliments. He isn't always the best at comforting words, not wanting to mess up and say the wrong thing, so he strays away from those types of sayings and instead resorts to flattery. He will compliment your clothes, his favorite physical features of yours, your unique personality, your strengths, and other redeeming qualities. He practically dumps his whole heart to you, which always leaves you somewhat smiling.

He also often chatters about what ever comes to his mind, an attempt to keep your thoughts off the problem at hand. He tries his best to distract you from your overbearing, doubtful, and negative thoughts by talking about stuff that happened during his day or things he spots in the halls. "Today, it was so funny," he'll chuckle to himself "I got to watch as Pitts fell from a chair while trying to hang something in the class. He landed on Todd, practically killing him." This strategy actually works pretty well, his stories often take your mind off your issues and troubles and you even end up laughing along with the male as he tells you a funny memory of his. 

But, if you’d prefer to just sit quietly in the hall, or some sort of other safe space, then he wont object. He wants to do what ever makes you feel the most relaxed and comfortable, and if that includes just sitting shoulder to shoulder silently in the desolate halls, he’s always willing to do so. And, if you’d prefer to just be alone for a while, left to your own devices, he totally understands; he’ll even offer to do some of your homework for you while you relax, even if it may not be his strong point, he wants to relieve you from as much stress as he possibly can.

He’ll also gladly accompany you to your dorm just to be able to read out loud while rubbing your back, one of his best and most successful attempts to help you calm down while also soothing you into a deep slumber. He loves massaging your shoulders and neck while reading a passage from a book, being able to respond to any of your beckoning needs if you have any. You want a blanket? He practically jumps from his position upon your bed to retrieve a comforter for you. He’ll gladly remove his sweatshirt, t-shirt, and basically any clothing of his you may even slightly desire. He practically spoils you, obeying all of your needs when ever you are even slightly down.

He always make sure no one comes near you if you're not ready or just generally not in the mood. He practically camps out in front of your bedroom door, politely telling people you need some time alone if they are searching for you, and if they don’t take the hint, continuing to insist that they need you, his protective side will most likely always kick in, his features will go blank before he sternly repeats himself.

And, of course, what he’s known for: Jokes. He always seems to know the exact words to say to make you start giggling. He’ll make funny faces, tickle you, and exclaim cringy puns if thats what it takes to see even a small upon your face. Of course, if you're not in the mood at that moment, he’ll hold off till a more appropriate time, but you better expect to be crying laughing at some point before the end of the day.

(I also wrote just a generalized version of Charlie Dalton Comforting The Reader so if you want to read more about the topic of Charlie dalton comforting you, just click those words and it should bring you right to the post 👍) 

[prettysweetprettysweet]

it's so befuddling when ppl get pressed about other people finding a lot of joy in a piece of media. first of all, when it comes to enjoyment you're always gonna lose in some way if you go into it intent on comparing and contrasting it to other pieces of media as your primary objective. if you found Cherry Magic seriously lacking in ways that matter to you, that's valid, but also don't try and dismiss people who list aspects you don't like as reasons they love it because that perspective is valid as well.

i know, for example, that CM would not work for my roommate because there isn't a lot of critical conflict and her attention thrives on juicy drama. for me, the absence of that is why i love it so much - with OCD and anxiety playing a role, I struggle to make it through a lot of media and usually don't succeed if it's not mind-blowingly captivating and impossible to separate from (which usually only ever happens if it's significantly relevant to me and my experiences [and significantly gay]). that's why a lot of stuff I watch, like Cherry Magic, serves more to wash over me like a calming wave. i love the neverending stream of love and all the attempts at productive and empathetic communication. i love how the actors portray that love. i love the exciting localization to a place i'm deeply interested in. i LOVE the pacing, which is slower/calmer. that makes it perfect for me to enjoy the media in whole episodes bc it doesn't demand steadfast attention or hyper awareness. that sort of pacing might even allow me to be completely invested from start to finish because it takes the pressure off.

more often than not, i don't want to agonize over tragic missed opportunities, unrealistically bad communication, and frustrating character flaws. i know a lot of people would respond with 'but then what's the point?' the point for me is that i want to see situations resolve how I would probably resolve them in my own life. effective communication is very important to me and one of the things I'm best at. i love seeing it in others. it makes me feel so good! and when it comes to CM, i love that it's all slightly tinged with a hint of madness, simply by the nature of Karan's intense love and devotion, in equal measure with Achi's near-instantaneous instinct to receive it all like a river carrying him on a direct route straight to all of life's most memorable and significant experiences. and of course the general idea of 'put that boy in situations.' i love the characters and i love seeing them respond to their environments and to each other. that's vapid to some but for me its my primary framework for joy/deep enjoyment of media given how my brain works.

[1-800-cr33py]

Hi! I recently dive deep into the rabbit hole of your amazing works! I'm impressed by your dedication and work!

Lately, A strong wave of nostalgia washed over my mind and I was wondering if you could write another prompt about HABIT, a darker one. I want to leave further details as a free choice, as that the final result..would be something you never tried before while writing about him.

I don't know how much this is making sense, but...I'm happy you're bearing with me! Thank you so much for your time and understanding! Take care of yourself, your health, eat well, drink well, sleep well! With the best regards and admiration,

-Yours.

a/n: oh my I love getting asks like this ^^! If darker is what you want, then who am I to deny? Something I haven’t written is certainly a broad spectrum but I’ll do my best to deliver! Best wishes to this anon! If this is shorter than wanted I do apologize I’ve been in a mental rut for a while now. a/n #2: this was a harder write for me, seeing as I put my own experiences. If you or anybody you love is experiencing any domestic abuse/suicidal thoughts or actions, please seek immediate help.

TW: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, heavy violence, blood, gore, abuse, If you are not within the right mental frame do consume media like this please do not click read more. I wish you all the best.

His cackle could be the only thing heard despite the distance between the two of you. You’d been running for what seemed like hours, with thick globs of blood burning your eyes, whether it belonged to you wasn’t your main focus. It was some sick game, a game in which you played into like a willful pawn. You thought, that in some way he could love you again if you stayed, if you kept your mouth shut about this. About all of this. The murder, the torture, the sickening shit that lingered within his mind. These type of things were something only a mind as sick as his could concoct, you swear it. It started off slow, it really did. The sudden roughness, the manhandling when it wasn’t called for, then that morphed into the cutting. You can still recall the first time feeling the cold steel of his knife glide across your skin, and it cut so easily, like butter. He, Evan, HABIT- whatever its name was, would tend to them, kissing your tears that spilled from your misty eyes away. He made an effort to praise you then, to congratulate you on making him “so fucking proud”. ‘What a load of bullshit’ you’d think to yourself. Trees and fallen limbs only served to hinder your progress, but the fleeting chance of escaping this monster proved more tempting. This wasn’t your fault, you knew that, no one deserves to go through something like this, but the pit in your stomach told you that you should’ve left when it started, should’ve seen the warning signs. You’re nearing the edges of the forest now, better hurry.

Gasps for air could be heard throughout the house, it echoed down the empty halls that were devoid of anything attached to its previous owner. The only light was pouring from the bathroom, where you and your capture were. His grip upon your hair was tight, leaving your scalp burning. Snot and tears poured down your face as he dunk your head into the water-filled tub, your hands pushing the edge in an attempt to find some kind of leverage against the man above you. Just as your lungs began to burn, you were pulled from the water once more, a sickening cackle permeated from the brunette above. His eyes were dark, lined with malice and hate. Habit muttered something, but in your current state you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You pleaded, begged him to let you go for what seemed like hours now, and all you got in return was a swift plunge into the water once more. Globs of snot rolled from your nose as your lungs begged for oxygen. With your vision hazy, brain reduced to mush as Habit shook your head. You wish you could hear the shouts escaping your once lover’s mouth, but your mind wouldn’t allow it. Dissociation had become your haven during times like this. It was the only way you knew how to survive. Habit threw your head down, scalp burning with the sudden release of his grip. You wanted to thank whatever higher being there was, but you learned long ago that no loving god would allow anyone to experience this. No merciful deity would hear someone so clearly in desperation and despair crying and turn a blind eye to this!

You’d lay awake that night, your bedding cold and a stark reminder of what was once the perfect image of domesticity between the two of you. Habit didn’t sleep much anymore, leaving the bedroom the one place you were truly ever alone. One, two, three, four you’d count the indents within the popcorn ceiling, doing something, anything to keep your mind away from the burn that still lingered within your lungs. Why? Why why why did it have to be you. You did everything right that you could think to do, so why? This existential limbo you’d find yourself trapped in, this cycle of abuse. Why? You knew the answer. You knew it like the back of your hand. You, ever so hopeful you, held onto hope that somewhere between those layers and pools of hate, hope that Evan was still there. Hope that your once doting and happy lover would suddenly form at your feet and kiss the bruises and burns away. Turning to gaze out of the dusty window, pale light spilling into room.

Still.

Everything was so still.

Your hand toyed with the damp hem of your shirt, frayed thread getting caught between your broken nails. You should be crying, running towards said window and finding your own escape; yet you couldn’t. Couldn’t bring your shaky legs to that window. Not when…you didn’t know why actually. The sinking feeling that Evan was never coming back was beginning to cement itself within you. The knowing that this, this cycle was your new reality began to emerge as you turned your head back to the ceiling.

This was it.

There was no light at the end your tunnel, not without the grace of dying to achieve it.

You sighed, and with shaking legs threw your body over the side of the cold bed. There’d been a bottle of pills on your bedside unknown of their usage. He put them there to taunt you, you were sure. He called you weak, stupid for believing he’d ever give a fuck about a useless meat sack like you. You cringed, remembering how demeaning it was to feel his spit land on your face, how degrading. With a trembling hand, you reached for the orange bottle. A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. All fear, anxiety, and anger melted away as you opened the bottle.

This was you taking back control.

This was your last chance to save yourself before everything you loved and held dear about your person. This was escape.

You made solace as you held down vomit, every instinct telling you to run to that bathroom and throw your stomach up. You fought, like you always did. This was your running to that window.

This was escape.

[sofiaispunk]

The Space Cowboy and his Ladybug - CHAPTER 1

Javier Peña x reader

Summary: As you return to your hometown of Laredo, Texas after more than a decade away, you can't help but feel a strange mix of excitement and trepidation. You're here with your new husband, Steven, a successful lawyer from Austin, and you're not quite sure how he'll handle the slower pace of life in this small town. You left Laredo as a teenager, fleeing an abusive father and a painful falling out with your childhood best friend. But will this place ever feel like home again? Can the wounds of the past really be healed, or are they just scars that never fully fade away?

Words: 1,3K

Warnings: angst, trust issues, violence, brief mention of past domestic abuse (mentally and physically), insecurity, references to suicide attempt, smut, TRAUMA, not proof read

A/N: hiiii beautiful people! This is my first ever fic. Please tell me what you think and what I should change. Basically just write anything that's going on in that pretty head of yours. Ideas, comments, critic everything is appreciated. Have a nice day and enjoyyyyy

You can feel your heart racing as the car approaches your small hometown of Laredo, Texas, with your new husband Steven by your side. The landscape is beautiful, with lush greenery and rolling hills that are a stark contrast to the concrete jungle you are used to. As you drive through the town, you feel a sense of familiarity wash over you. The small houses and local businesses reminding you of your childhood, and the community feels warm and welcoming. „You ok, babe?“ Steven asked, barely looking at you. 

You met Steven through a mutual friend at a networking event in the city. He was successful, charming, and swept you off your feet with his lavish lifestyle. You started dating and soon got married after a whirlwind romance. He gave you the stability that lacked in your childhood. The love and support you missed out on and frankly you were done being alone and miserable. He was at the right time at the right place.

But as time went by, you realized that your lifestyles and priorities were vastly different. Steven was always too busy with work, and when you did spend time together, it was usually at high-end restaurants or events that felt superficial and lacked depth. You longed for a deeper connection and more meaningful experiences that were more in line with your values. Austin was great, just not for you.. It never felt like home, in fact your home did not even feel like home and nothing ever felt like home since you left Chucho’s farm over 10 years ago.

That’s why you were here, back in Laredo, a place you swore you would never set a foot on again. 

Memories flood back to you as you drive past familiar landmarks. „Yeah, I think I am okay.“ You reply while opening the window feeling the light texan summer breeze.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the sun on your face and the sweet scent of vanilla wafting from the small corner store. You can hear the sounds of children laughing and playing in the distance, but it's the sound of your best friend's laughter that makes your heart sing. It's your weekly ritual, saving up your allowance money to buy ice cream from the store. As you walk towards the store, your excitement grows with each step. You can't wait to spend the day talking and laughing with your best friend. As you sit on the curb, licking your ice cream cones, you share your dreams and aspirations for the future. You talk about the places you want to travel to and the adventures you want to have.

„ I will be the best astronaut in outer space. And everybody will love me because I will catch all the bad guys and bad aliens with my lasso!“ your best friends raises his chocolate ice cream cone above his head signalizing his victory. „Javi, so you will be an astronaut and a cowboy? Thats not even possible.“ You laugh wiping away a little drop of chocolate ice cream that landed on his forehead. „A space cowboy, dummy! I will be the first one and therefor the best! Don’t laugh at me.“ „OK OK but lets go home space cowboy  or else Chucho Is going to really send you to the moon. It’s getting dark already. Come on. Last one pays for the ice cream tomorrow!“

„-are you even listening to me?“ Steven looks at you with raised eyebrows. „Oh no sorry. What were you saying. I was thinking of something.“ You haven’t even noticed Steven was talking to you, too caught up in your memories. „Just 10 more minutes. And please close the window. You are letting the heat in and the AC is on.“ You nod and close the window. You take another deep breath and try to push the memories of Laredo out of your mind. You know that the town holds both good and bad memories for you, but lately, the bad ones seem to be creeping to the forefront of your thoughts. Even the good memories hurt. You've been trying to stay positive since returning to Laredo with your new husband.

You want to make a fresh start and create new memories in the town that holds so much history for you. But it's difficult when every corner seems to hold a reminder of your past. You find yourself walking on eggshells, trying not to trigger any negative memories or emotions. You don't want Steven to see you in a vulnerable state. You trust him, he is your husband you are supposed to, right? But lately he is being more distant and if you really honest with yourself you never let him get to know you the real you. Always too scared to scare him off and share too much of your true self. With Steve always being at work or on business trips you try to keep busy with your own projects and hobbies, but there's only so much distraction you can find. Thats how it always been. You live in a big house in a big, beautiful house in Austin, surrounded by all the material possessions and friends you've accumulated over the years, and yet, you just couldn’t shake off the feeling of emptiness inside.

You've been feeling this way for so long, and it's getting harder to ignore. You've built this life that many would envy, but you can’t help but feel alone and disconnected. Of course you’ve tried to talk to Steven about it, but every time you bring up the topic, he brushes it off, saying that you're just overthinking things. You know he means well, but his lack of understanding and concern only makes you feel more isolated. So with time you just dropped the topic all together and returned to this persona you created once you left Laredo. This strong, fearless persona who didn’t miss her life, who could punch back and was not scared of anybody and who never suffered a heartbreak. She was everything you wished to be and so you suppressed every bad feeling, every longing and just pretended. Deep down, you know that you need to confront your past and deal with the emotions that come with it. But it's scary to face the pain and trauma that you've been trying to forget for so long. You're not sure if you're ready to open that door and relive those memories. You've become a master at pretending to be happy, putting on a smile for the outside world while masking your true feelings. You don't want to burden your friends with your problems, so you keep up the facade of having it all together. But sometimes, it feels like you're suffocating under the weight of your emotions.

You and Steven pull up to your old childhood home in Laredo. As you step out of the car and take in the sight of the old, run-down property, a sense of nostalgia washes over you.

"Well, it's certainly a fixer-upper," Steven remarks, eyeing the peeling paint and sagging roof.

You smile, feeling a sense of excitement and determination. Renovating this old house is a challenge, but it's also a chance to create something beautiful and new.As you settle into the house, you begin to envision the possibilities. Fresh paint, new floors, a modern kitchen, and updated bathrooms. It's going to be a lot of work, but you're ready for it.

Steven suggests calling in some contractors to help with the renovations, but you shake your head. "I want to do this ourselves, to really make it our own."Steven looks at you with a mix of admiration and concern. "Are you sure? It's going to be a lot of work, and we have busy schedules."

You nod, feeling a sense of determination. "I'm sure. We can do this together."

As the conversation turns to the logistics of the renovation, you can't help but feel a sense of excitement for the possibilities that lie ahead. Maybe this project is the first step towards creating a new chapter in your life, one where you can reclaim the parts of yourself that you left behind in Laredo.

Part 2

[aurumacadicus]

Sincerely, Yours (Chapter 11)

Over six thousand words so it’s under the cut this time.

--

Steve knocked on the door the next morning. “Tony?” he asked through the door. “You mentioned me waking you up to help with breakfast. Did you still want to? I can let you sleep for another hour if you want.”

Tony found himself sitting up before he even thought about it. “Yes, I want to help with breakfast.” He lifted his hands to rub at his eyes, jaw cracking on a yawn. “I’m awake. I’ll be right down.”

“Okay,” Steve replied. “I brought a pitcher for the wash basin so you can wash up. I’ll leave it here on the floor, okay?”

“Thank you!” Tony called out, biting back another yawn, and tossed the blankets aside so he could get up. The mattress was just as comfortable as it had been the first night, and he knew if he didn’t get up immediately, he’d sink back into it and fall right back to sleep. He paused just long enough to put on the robe he’d found packed in the bottom of his carpet bag, one that he remembered his father wearing and Jarvis hadn’t had the heart to throw out. The pattern was sort of busy, but it offered more warmth than the lacy one his mother had left after their passing, and he was sort of glad he didn’t have to ask Steve for one.

The pitcher was right outside the door as Steve had promised, and he scooped it up and brought it back inside, wondering what he should wear. He’d realized, as he was finally unpacking his clothes, that he didn’t really have… anything comparable to Steve’s work clothes. Sure, they weren’t considered his finer clothes back in New York, but they were much nicer than Steve’s, all clean whites and hand stitching. He and Steve were going on a ride today. He wasn’t entirely certain what he should wear. Maybe he could ask Steve to come up and help him choose what he thought was best.

Tony paused, pitcher tipped halfway toward the basin, then turned, hand drifting up to his mouth as he considered the logistics of it. He’d have to hide his undergarments. But he didn’t want Steve to think he didn’t wear any, either. Would Steve assume that? He’d seemed pretty appalled that people would send him letters about them when he’d mentioned terrible correspondence, but this was different—this was Tony’s wardrobe that he’d be allowing him to look into, and he wouldn’t lie and say he wouldn’t be thinking about it a little if the roles were reversed.

Maybe he’d just put a few outfits on the bed for Steve to choose from, he figured.

.-.

Steve wasn’t cooking when he finally got downstairs, but he was turning from throwing wood into his stove. He froze when he saw Tony. Tony couldn’t help but freeze as well, remembering with sudden clarity that the last time he’d seen Steve, he’d been nearly naked and quite damp. And he’d certainly looked quite nice, nearly naked and quite damp, with his wide shoulders and narrow waist and—

“Ouch!” Steve exclaimed, yanking his hand off the stove door. He jerked his hand up to begin blowing on it, as if that would help.

Tony finally remembered how to behave like a normal human and rushed over to him. “That won’t help. Come here,” he said, grabbing Steve’s arm and attempting to drag him over to the sink. He knew from experience, after all; Jarvis had had to do the same thing when he'd first started learning how to cook. He tugged again when Steve didn’t move, which thankfully got him to finally budge, and he allowed Tony to tow him over to the sink and shove his hand under the spigot. He let Steve’s hand go only once he was sure he’d hold it in place, then turned to begin pulling at the pump.

Steve watched the water begin to rush over his hand, mouth dropping open a little in shock. Then his cheeks flooded pink. “I’m not normally an idiot when I burn myself. I just… uh… had a lot on my mind.”

“I’m sure,” Tony said agreeably, swatting his free hand away when he reached to help. “What were you thinking about? Anything I can help with?”

Steve coughed, then sort of wheezed, flush splotching a darker shade of red. “It was nothing. Lunch,” he added belatedly, as if it didn’t sound like the complete lie that it was.

Tony stopped pumping water to blink up at him, lips pursing into a frown as he decided whether or not he wanted to call Steve on it. He hadn’t known Steve in person for very long, but in his letters, he’d come across as a very honest (if perhaps too straightforward) person. On the other hand, if he was willing to lie about it, maybe he shouldn’t push. They were only on their third day together, after all. People deserved privacy even from their spouses, he remembered Ana telling him once.

“I’ve only seen you in clothes,” Steve finally said, as if the silence hanging over them had been unbearable.

Tony’s mouth dropped open, and he couldn’t help another slow blink as he tried to work out what Steve meant. “…I’m wearing clothes,” he finally answered, unable to come up with anything else.

Steve waved his unburned hand at him, as if that was an explanation. Tony looked down at himself. He was still wearing his pajamas, but that was only because he didn’t want to have to bother changing a second time after breakfast, and they were covered by the robe. He looked at Steve. His clothes looked like pajamas as well. He couldn’t imagine Steve riding horses in matching pinstripes. He squinted up at Steve skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

Steve looked like he was in more physical pain because of their conversation than he had when he’d burned himself. He waved his hand at him again. “It’s… I’ve never seen…” He gulped in a breath of air, then let it back out in a sigh, lifting his hand to cover his red face. “It’s lacy.”

“Lacy,” Tony repeated, looking back down at himself. He hadn’t noticed it before, but the top hem of his nightshirt was visible where the robe closed. It wasn’t the finest lace he’d ever worn in his life (and the negligee Jan had sent for him was even lacier, he remembered shyly). Still, if Steve had only lived with his mother and then another alpha, maybe the peek of lace would have been pretty surprising. He looked back up at Steve, hesitantly asking, “Do you… like it?”

“Yeah,” Steve answered immediately, voice strangled. He groaned and lifted his other hand to cover his face as well. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to be normal about this.”

“It’s okay,” Tony said, as if he had not gone to bed and stared up at the ceiling trying to reconcile Steve’s broad shoulders and narrow waist, while also desperately trying not to remember the way that drop of water had slid down his muscular back toward his low-slung towel. He lifted his hands to pull the edges of his robe closer together. “Should I go change?”

“No,” Steve barked, hands dropping, and he somehow looked even more mortified than before. “I want you to be comfortable. This is your home now. I’m—This is so embarrassing, Tony, I feel like such a—” He reached out to grab Tony’s hands to keep him from closing his robe. “I’m sorry.”

Tony chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, then finally answered, “I mean, it’s kind of funny, isn’t it? We’re married. You shouldn’t be ashamed of seeing my—uh. Lacy things.” He pulled at the hems of his robe again, peering down at the simple shift he was wearing. The lace was only along the hems. He looked back up at Steve. “But maybe you shouldn’t be doing anything important until you get used to it.”

“You said that so nicely,” Steve said faintly. “But I still sorta want the ground to open up and swallow me.”

“Well, don’t,” Tony replied, shrugging, and took a step back. “It’s sweet that you’re trying to… do whatever you’re doing. But…” He felt heat finally rising on his cheeks, and he couldn’t help but lift a hand to scratch at his neck in embarrassment. “It’s… nice. You’re… different from the alphas back home.”

Steve opened his mouth, then closed it, brows furrowing together into a concerned frown. “…How different?”

Tony didn’t think that the alphas back home would stop at just staring. He could imagine leers, jokes that he’d have to smile through and brush off without trying to offend them. Maybe even a heavy hand landing on his hip or shoulder, fingers curling in possessive and cruel. Perhaps… something worse, though he was hesitant to contemplate it. ‘Just alphas being alphas,’ Obadiah would chortle if Tony complained. Or they’d blame him for not covering up properly, tell him he shouldn’t have had any lace visible if he didn’t want them to comment on it. They’d tell him he was asking for attention, and the only one to blame was himself.

It was why he’d been so charmed that Steve had been outraged on his behalf when he’d told him about the correspondence that he’d considered truly bad.

“My eggs come out rubbery,” Tony finally said. “Maybe you can teach me how to cook them better than Jarvis could.”

Steve’s jaw worked, almost like he was trying to bite back a gnashing of teeth. He sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly, swallowing down his visible anger until his expression was just as kind and patient as it had been the day before. “I’ll show you how to do the first one, then let you try the others. How does that sound?”

“That sounds good,” Tony agreed, reaching out for his hand again. “How’s your hand?”

“I let go in time to avoid a bad burn, I think,” Steve said, allowing him to take it. His hand was pink, just bordering on red, but there were no blisters or puss. “The water helped.”

“I’m sure the blowing helped too,” Tony added, unable to help his lips curving into a cheeky smile.

Steve tipped his head back with a groan. “Oh my god. I swear I’m not stupid.”

Tony covered his mouth to smother a giggle, but Steve didn’t look angry when he failed.

.-.

Tony’s eggs had still come out sort of rubbery, but the last one was mostly edible. Steve had wolfed them down regardless, and Tony remembered Steve saying he’d eat most things, even if they tasted bad, in his letters. He hadn’t really understood what that meant until now. While he was worried about how he could expect to improve if Steve was willing to eat everything set in front of him, it also felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, knowing that food wouldn’t go to waste even when it didn’t turn out right.

He'd watched Steve put together their lunch in a nice wicker basket as he ate at a more sedate pace, “Something my ma insisted on buying while we were in town. We only used it a couple times before she was too sick to go out.” The last of the fried chicken from the ice box, salad, pieces of sausage fried in dough, a jar of apricot preserves, the remains of the pound cake, and three large, beautiful tomatoes so red they were almost purple.

“I take it you’re a fan of tomatoes instead of pound cake,” Steve said, amusement coloring his tone.

It took Tony a moment to realize he was still staring at the basket. He jerked his eyes up to Steve’s face, heat rushing to his cheeks. “What? Yes. Or—well, I’m just not used to pound cake yet.”

“You can have a different favorite food from me,” Steve cut in before he could babble on. “How do you like them? Oil and salt? On toast? I can cook some up and put it in the basket real quick.”

“I’ll eat it like an apple,” Tony answered. He was very kind in not telling Steve that he was not fast enough in hiding his disgust. Jan and Sue had wrinkled their noses at him back home, too. “I wasn’t entirely sure what to wear riding, so I set out a few outfits. Will you come help me decide?”

Steve blinked at him, eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. “Oh, um, sure?”

“I don’t really have a lot of clothes, and I think Jarvis didn’t have time to think about what he was packing for me,” Tony added, before Steve had to ask. He didn’t want to embarrass him anymore today.

“Oh,” Steve said again, frowning. “Of course.” He rubbed his chin, considering. “The next time we’re in town, let’s make sure to buy you a couple more outfits. Ranch work is dirty, even if you’re just doing the housework. It’ll be good to have spares.”

“Okay,” Tony answered, trying not to sound too cheerful. It had been a long time since he’d gotten to buy new clothes. Mostly, Jan had just given him whatever she felt like, and while he’d appreciated it (he never would have been able to keep up with changing fashion trends otherwise), he hadn’t ever really gotten to pick his own clothes out. Even if he had to okay it with Steve, at least he’d get a choice.

Steve followed him up to the main bedroom after they washed up the breakfast dishes, and Tony found it charming that he hesitated outside the door before he finally straightened his shoulders and passed the threshold like a man going to war. He was just choosing what pants Tony would be wearing on the ride. Then Steve grimaced as he looked over his clothes, and he couldn’t help but worry that he’d chosen poorly out of his meager offerings.

“Wow, these are all… really nice,” Steve finally said, reaching out to take a pair of pants between his fingers to rub the fabric. He frowned speculatively. “It seems like such a waste, using any of these to ride. Are you sure you don’t have anything a little more… worn?”

Tony shrugged, a little embarrassed. “This is all I’ve got.” Steve sighed, but Tony felt his shoulders relaxing a little with it, because it sounded more like the sighs Jarvis and Ana would utter as they tried to balance the household budget in a way that would get them yelled at by Obadiah as little as possible rather than actual frustration with him. “It’s okay if they get worn. We’ll just replace them when we’re in town, right?”

“Right,” Steve agreed vaguely, reaching out to test the middle set of clothes between his fingers as well. “I guess—these brown pants are alright, but your shirts are kinda… wispy? The sun’ll burn right through it… I’ll bring you one of mine,” he finally decided with a nod. “I’ve got plenty, and you need protection from the sun.” He turned. “Do you have a hat?”

“Yes,” Tony began instinctively, then stopped, hand coming up to his mouth as he looked at the pants Steve had chosen. “No. I think a hatbox would have been too much to carry. It was a church hat, anyway, not a sunhat.”

“I’ll grab you a hat, too,” Steve said, reaching out to clasp his shoulder as he turned to leave. “And who knows, maybe we’ll get you a replacement church hat in town, too. I’ll leave them on the doorknob, okay?”

Tony nodded, realized Steve’s back was to him, and added, “Yes. Thank you, Steve.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve said, waving over his shoulder, and shut the door behind himself as he left.

Tony stared at the door for a long moment, hand coming up to touch where Steve had clasped his shoulder. Steve was handsy, but in a genuine way, not smarmy or anything. It sort of reminded him of the way he and his friends would touch—easy, casual, nothing behind it but a bid for connection. He supposed it made sense, if Steve had been as lonely and isolated as Tony had.

Tony hung up his robe and turned to step into the pants Steve had suggested. He figured Steve had chosen them because they were a little thicker than the others, would offer more protection from the saddle. He held one of his shirts up, frowning. He supposed the fabric was a little too thin for hours in the sun. It was very kind of Steve to offer up one of his own and a hat.

Tony squeaked, covering his mouth as the gravity of the situation hit him. Steve was bringing him a shirt and hat to wear on their ride and picnic. He was going to wear Steve’s clothes. He couldn’t help the nervous laugh that trickled out between his fingers and pretended he wasn’t blushing at the idea of having Steve’s scent on him like that.

It was too bad that it wasn’t safe to correspond with Jan. She would have foamed at the mouth to read about it.

.-.

Steve’s shirt was a little too big (maybe a lot too big around the chest, Tony thought, pursing his lips), but Tony hadn’t been friends with Jan since they were toddlers to have gleaned nothing from her. Steve had brought him a sewing kit, and Tony had quickly added some slapdash hems, so he wasn’t swimming in it, while Steve had gone to get the horses saddled. It was passable for a ride and picnic, he supposed, frowning at the messy stitches and uneven hems. He probably could have done better with more time, or even a machine. He decided he wasn’t ever going to tell Jan about it. She’d shout at him for not absorbing more from her.

He was glad that Steve had given him the shirt and hat. It was still early morning, but he could feel the sun beating down across his shoulders and back. He would have burned beneath his shirt if he’d worn his own. He had to keep adjusting the hat, but he was glad for the coverage, guarding his eyes from the sun’s glare and keeping the heat off the back of his neck. Steve had promised to get him a hat that was sized properly as well, and Tony had felt a smidge of guilt that Steve was having to put out so much money on him so soon, but Steve had somehow noticed and assured him that Dr. Erskine had also had to put out money when he first arrived—it basically came with the territory of moving from one climate to another.

“Besides,” Steve had added cheerfully. “You’re my omega! I’m supposed to provide for you. What sort of alpha would I be if I left you to fend for yourself, especially when you don’t actually know what all you need?”

Tony had glowed a pleased pink in response, and it had nothing to do with the sun shining down on him.

Steve led him to the closest waterhole, pointing out all the trees to him—spruce, and pine, and juniper. Sometimes he cut sickly and dying trees to use for firewood, but it was a pain to haul them, so he mostly got his wood from a neighbor who was in the lumber industry in exchange for a handful of steers each year. He said that other parts of the property had wild berries, and sometimes Bucky’s family would come out and stay in Steve’s big house so they could spend the week picking them and make jam. They usually left a few jars before they returned back home, closer to town.

“Maybe they’ll let me help this year,” Tony mused, biting into a piece of fried sausage as he stared across the rolling grass. He turned to look up at Steve. “Will there be enough room for all of them with you in the guest room?”

“I always sleep in the guest room when the Barnes family comes to stay with me,” Steve answered with a shrug. “The girls use the big bed.”

Tony blinked, then looked back out at the hills. “Oh.”

“But obviously I’ll tell them things have changed,” Steve added hastily, sitting up straight. “I’m not kicking you out of your room for them, I was just saying it won’t be weird to see me in the guest room.”

“Are there many Barnes girls?” Tony asked, looking back up at him.

Steve squinted at him, as if there might be some sort of trick behind his question, before he finally answered, “…Four.”

“Four sisters,” Tony repeated quietly, wondering. Most of the families he knew rarely had more than two children. He wondered if that was because they didn’t want to spread their money around as much. Rich people were kind of miserly, even as they doted on the children they had, he remembered. And Mrs. Barnes had had five. “Do you think they’ll like me?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Steve asked, sounding honestly perplexed at the idea that they wouldn’t. “You’re new, exciting. They moved out here when they were still pretty young, so they don’t remember New York at all. I’m sure they’re going to ask you about everything from fashion to whether automobiles are real or if Buck and I made them up to tease them.”

Tony couldn’t help but chuckle. “You must tease them a lot.”

Steve smiled back at him. “Yeah, well, there’s about a ten-year gap between Bucky and Becca. She's the next oldest. He says it’s to get back at having to help change all their diapers.”

Tony remembered the way Susan and Johnny Storm would bicker almost to the point of blows (at which point Johnny, terrified, would shy away). But he also remembered the way Sue’s eyes would narrow when she thought someone was slighting her brother, and the way Johnny’s hands would grip into fists if he didn’t like the way someone talked about his sister. Jan and Victor were only children, like him, but Ana had talked fondly of her siblings and how she missed them. He thought it might have been nice, having a sibling. Maybe he wouldn’t have felt so lonely.

He looked up at Steve again. “Do you think they’ll teach me how to make jam, too?”

Steve blinked, surprised, as if the thought they wouldn’t had never occurred to him. “Yeah, of course. I’ll just tell Mrs. Barnes that you wanna learn and she’ll be happy to have an extra set of hands.” He looked Tony up and down slowly, then offered him a wry smile. “Maybe you’ll be strong enough to lift the canning pot for her. Usually she gets me an’ Buck to put them on, then chases us back out of the house.”

“Uh,” Tony said, suddenly remembering how easily Steve had lifted his trunk at the depot when he’d needed to struggle with a cart.

“…Or maybe I’ll still do it,” Steve added quickly, apparently also remembering him fretting about the possibility of anvil in his trunk with how heavy it was. “Although—hopefully we’ll get a little more muscle on you before then.”

Tony reluctantly lifted his arm and flexed. “I hope so. I wasn’t expected or even allowed to do more than the minimum at home. I just had to try and look pretty.”

“I don’t think you have to try at all,” Steve said, then coughed, looking away from him quickly. He lifted a hand to cover the way the back of his neck had gone red. “Anyway. Over the next couple days, we’ll figure out some chores for you to take on. I can do the lion’s share for now, until you get the hang of it, then teach you new ones. Then when I’m taking the cattle to market next summer, you’ll be prepared to be on your own.”

Tony was a little worried about being on his own that long, but Steve had said he could have guests, and by then he’d have been there for a year. Hopefully he would have made friends by then. If nothing else, maybe he could invite the Barnes family around. He nodded, firming his resolve. He’d come here to be Steve’s omega and he’d understood all that entailed. He wouldn’t back out just because he was a little nervous for the future. “That sounds good. Thank you, Steve.”

“Well, of course,” Steve began, shrugging. “It’s my job to make sure you’re prepared for—”

“I meant it for you calling me pretty,” Tony cut in, and watched, amazed, as Steve’s face skipped pink entirely and went straight to cherry red.

.-.

There was a wagon set up in front of the house when they finally rode back. Two people stood from seats on the porch, but they were still hidden in its shade.

Tony couldn’t help but pull Brownie up short, cold sweat breaking out on his back at the thought that Obadiah had somehow found him. He considered turning Brownie and just galloping away, until the horse literally couldn’t anymore, and then getting off to sprint.

Then Steve lifted his arm, waving his hat at them in greeting, and called out, “Thor! If I’d known you were going to come today, I would have moved our picnic to tomorrow!”

Tony sagged as if his strings had been cut, lifting a shaking hand to wipe his face. He hoped Steve didn’t notice he’d almost taken flight. Hoped the two men hadn’t noticed either, or if they did, assumed he was a skittish city omega and not someone who had fled his home in terror. He sucked in a deep breath and urged Brownie forward again, trying not to look like his heart was still fluttering frantically beneath his ribs.

“Tony, this is Thor and Loki Odinson,” Steve continued cheerfully, oblivious, as the two men stepped down off the porch at their approach. “They own the local sawmill. I’d asked them for some lumber to make raised garden beds a while ago without putting a time constraint on it,” he added, grimacing in apology to them. “I thought I’d have more time to work on it.”

“We heard that Tony had arrived when we went into town yesterday,” the taller man said, turning a wide and disarming smile on Tony. “So of course we got the wood together to bring it over as quickly as possible. It’s not too late to plant.”

“It isn’t?” Tony asked, unable to help smiling back at him. Thor came across as very jovial. He decided he liked him. And it was nice to know he hadn’t missed the planting season entirely, apparently.

Loki shrugged, looking vaguely bored. “Eggplants. Snap beans. Tomatoes.”

“Tomatoes!” Tony exclaimed excitedly. He hadn’t seen any in the icebox beyond the three Steve had packed in the picnic basket, and Steve had let him eat all of them.

Steve once again didn’t manage to hide his grimace in response. Loki saw this, turned to Tony, and said, “I can bring you seeds and starter plants for three varieties.”

“Why did you bring him,” Steve asked Thor, who simply laughed in response.

Tony finally stepped down off of Brownie, then immediately regretted it. Sort of. Steve was big, and somehow, Thor was even bigger—taller, and broader, and somehow visibly more muscular. Loki was slighter, but he still had a few inches on Steve. He looked between all three of them, feeling positively tiny, even though back home, he was the average height. He asked, somewhat plaintively, “Is everyone this big out here?”

Steve and Thor stared at him in response, agog. Loki just shrugged, still looking bored. He reminded Tony of Victor, somehow. Perhaps the air that he was above any drama going on around him, or that he didn’t even really want to be there. He considered this, and the fact that when it had mattered most, Victor had been there to help him. So he cautiously asked, “Do you have any pointers on growing tomatoes? I didn’t get a chance to study gardening as much as I’d have liked before I came out.”

Loki’s eyes were sharp, like a cat’s, Tony thought, giving him a languid up-and-down before he lifted his hand to toss his hair over his shoulder. “Okay,” he replied, shrugging.

Tony couldn’t help but smile in response, relieved. “I have a book inside for notes. I’ll go get it.”

“Why don’t you take Loki with you?” Steve offered, shrugging. “Thor and I will get the lumber unloaded.”

Tony couldn’t help but blink in confusion. He could tell that Loki wasn’t an omega. “That’s okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve answered blithely, already rolling his sleeves up, as if he saw no problem with Tony talking with Loki alone.

Maybe he didn’t, Tony realized. If visitors were few and far between, maybe people just trusted each other more out here. Then again, maybe it was a money thing, too—society omegas were held to even higher standards than families with lower standing, he remembered Jarvis and Ana saying. “Okay,” he said, still a little hesitant, then turned back to Loki and motioned back toward the front house. “Shall we?”

“Sure,” Loki began.

Steve thrust the picnic basket at him. For some reason, his eye contact looked more intense than it had been before. “Here, carry this, will you?”

Loki stared at him for a long moment, judgmental, before he repeated, “Sure.”

“I can carry it,” Tony offered, holding his hands out for it.

“Just get me a glass of water,” Loki said, not handing it to him.

It made Tony realize that he had no idea how long Loki and Thor had been waiting on the porch through the heat of the day. He nodded quickly, then turned, promising to bring a glass out to Steve and Thor, before he led the way up to the door. Loki followed him into the kitchen to set the picnic basket on the table, so Tony handed his glass directly to him before taking two more glasses of water out to Steve and Thor.

“Tony,” Thor began as he turned to take their empty glasses back into the house, and Tony turned back to him, wondering if he was going to be asked for a refill. Thor’s expression was solemn. “My brother can be a trickster, but his heart is in the right place. …Usually. …If he offends you, just tell me, and I’ll talk to him about it.”

Tony frowned, confused, and glanced at Steve, who simply shrugged in a way that somehow conveyed, ‘well, what can you do.’ “Oh, well. Um. Okay?” he offered, brows furrowing together. He didn’t quite understand why they were allowing him to be alone with Loki if they were that concerned about it, but he didn’t know how to ask without sounding like an asshole, so. He figured if Loki did anything untoward, he’d just scream, and Steve would appear out of thin air. It would probably be fine.

He returned to the kitchen with his notebook and pencil in hand. He knew a lot about beans and peas. He didn’t know much about eggplants or tomatoes. He wished, again, that he’d been able to prepare more before he came, but now wasn’t the time to think about that. Loki was… well, he sort of reminded Tony of Sue Storm’s cat, which waited until someone made eye contact with it before it batted fragile items off shelves. Except… taller.

Tony was beginning to expect the air out here bred giants.

“If you aren’t careful, your face will stick like that,” Loki said around a mouthful of fried chicken.

Tony hadn’t even been aware a piece of fried chicken had survived the picnic. He blinked for a moment, confused, then flushed in embarrassment. He must have been making a sour face. “Oh.” He schooled his expression into the practiced, vague smile he used back home when Ezekiel talked to him.

Loki raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen.”

“What do you want me to do with my face then?” Tony asked in exasperation.

“Just sit down so I can tell you about tomato plants,” Loki told him flatly. “What’s in this dough?”

Tony sat down at the table obediently. “Sausage.”

Loki poked through the basket again. “Alright. You better write fast, because I won’t repeat myself.”

Tony hurriedly flipped his notebook open to a clean page and picked up his pencil. “You didn’t strike me as someone who did.”

Loki slanted him one impressed stare before he said, “When you plant your tomatoes, you’re going to want to plant them with a stake or a trellis, so they have something to climb as they grow.”

Tony started scribbling, nodding. That made sense. He thought he remembered the tomato plants having those in the garden, when he’d been growing up.

“Tomatoes need six to eight hours of sun to bring out the best flavor,” Loki continued, not waiting for him to finish, and Tony’s scribbling became a little more frantic when he realized that Loki hadn’t been lying about not waiting for him.

.-.

Tony had a lot of information, by the time Thor and Steve tromped into the house. He rubbed a hand over his face as Steve leaned over him, mumbling, “This is a lot of work. Maybe next year we can do tomatoes, so I can focus on eggplants. You don’t even like tomatoes.”

“I mean, I do like them, just not like a fuckin’ apple,” Steve replied with a shrug.

Tony tipped his head back to stare at him, stunned. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Steve had warned him he swore a lot. He’d been preparing himself for it. But Steve hadn’t sworn in front of him before, and he hadn’t expected it to be so casual. Well, he’d been doing hard work with Thor in the hot sun, if the way their shirts were clinging to them was any indication, so maybe they’d been talking… like that… the whole time he’d been inside with Loki. Maybe he'd forgotten he was coming back inside with mixed company, and that was why it had slipped out.

“…I mean not like a darn apple,” Steve added quickly, a touch of franticness to his voice.

“Are you telling me you’ve never sworn in front of Tony?” Thor asked, turning from pumping himself another glass of water. “Like, he’s been in your presence longer than an hour and this was the first time?”

Even Loki looked surprised. “I’m surprised you haven’t just spontaneously combusted.”

“Shut up,” Steve said, looking more miserable because of the conversation than he had when he’d walked in, exhausted, with Thor.

“It’s okay!” Tony hurried to assure him.

“It is not, this man is going to die,” Thor told him seriously. “He hasn’t watched his mouth so well since the last time his mother washed it out.”

“Shut up,” Steve repeated, glaring at him. “I’m absolutely capable of not swearing. We’ve been together for three days and this was the first time.”

Loki and Thor didn’t look convinced. “You sound weird. Normally you’d sprinkle in a couple swears in that,” Loki said, leaning his chin on his hand.

Steve swiveled to look at Tony again. “Tony. I’m going to ask you to go upstairs and cover your ears.”

“I can handle it!” Tony exclaimed. He wasn’t entirely sure though. Loki and Thor were making him have doubts.

“You should go upstairs and cover your ears,” Thor agreed, and Loki nodded sympathetically.

Tony looked back and forth between all of them, not quite feeling ganged up on, but almost. “Well… I guess I’ll go,” he finally said, gathering his notes and pencil before he stood up. He gave them all a supremely unimpressed frown. “But I’m going because I want to, not because you told me to.”

“Of course,” they agreed solemnly, and Tony took a moment to be incredibly weirded out by it before he left the kitchen and scurried up the stairs.

He paused outside the door to his room, then called out, “I’m going in my room now!” Only once he got a chorus of acknowledgment did he step inside. He waited with the door cracked, unable to help his curiosity, because surely they couldn’t be that loud.

The explosion started immediately, outraged ‘what the hell’s and ‘I’m tryin’ not to be an asshole’s and ‘We’ve known each other in person three fucking days can you give me a goddamn break?!’ They were interspersed with laughter (good-natured, he thought) and what sounded like ‘how did you keep your dumb ass from just exploding in frustration.’ It didn’t… sound angry, he thought. It sounded more like how Jarvis and Ana bickered, or the way he argued with Jan when she thought he should wear more daring colors and he didn’t want to stand out. It sounded… friendly? Like a disagreement with emotions high, but with low stakes, sort of like when he’d insisted cotton was fine and Jan had howled about linen, both of them knowing it didn't really matter but very passionate about it anyway.

“Oh no,” Tony murmured as more swears started to get slung around, finally turning the knob and pulling the door shut all the way. He could still hear muffled bellowing, but none of the words. He took a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship that it showed, that Steve had built the house and door so that it blocked out most noise. He’d have to compliment him on that later. After things had been settled downstairs, of course.

He looked down at his notes, flipping through them. It seemed like there was a lot going on with each plant, but there was some overlap. Apparently, all of the plants needed something to climb up. He wondered if it would be too much. It seemed like a lot of extra work, and they were getting a late start. He didn’t want to make it too difficult, although Steve had said he’d have no problem with it. Besides, with the cattle gone to market, he’d said there wasn’t much to do anyway.

Tony paused, then let out a little hum, walking over to the bed and climbing on top of it. He opened the notebook to a new page so he could edit what he’d scribbled down properly. He didn’t know how long Steve was going to be entertaining(?) his friends or when he would be allowed down, so he could fill his time with getting his thoughts in order. After all, he wanted to be prepared when Loki brought over the plants for him, if he still wanted to. Steve had said the garden could be his responsibility, and he couldn’t help but want to prove that he could do it, especially with how much Steve had to teach him now.

He tipped his head as he heard the yelling stop, wondering if he’d be called back down, but then there was another shout, and a loud thump, like furniture being forced to move quickly. He’d become familiar with the sound when he visited Sue and she and Johnny would get into scuffles before someone separated them. He figured it probably wasn’t a real fight, but he also wasn’t going to go down there and find out. It was better to just wait until someone presented themselves to him, mussed up but pointedly ignoring it. He had a garden to plan, after all.

[phiixomath]

13. steam

masterlist.

Lance turns the shower knob. He tosses his head back and the warm water sprays his shoulders, his back, and it's relaxing, so much so that he can feel it weighing down his eyelids even as he eagerly scrubs away the remnants of his week-long mission so he can finally get back to Keith.

Once his skin is slathered with soap, he quickly reaches for shampoo, letting it sit in his hair and finding himself mindlessly tracing shapes in the steam that coats his door. He gets lost in it, and only looks up after a few minutes to see that, among other things, he's doodled several 'K's in his most fancy cursive lettering. Lance laughs at himself a little, but it also makes him grin, seeing as he can now indulge in loving Keith both privately and publicly. (He'll sometimes have to pretend it's embarrassing when Keith does, though it's only because it leaves him overwhelmingly warm and fuzzy and unable to articulate.)

Lance wipes off his makeshift canvas, waits for more steam, and starts fresh. He might not technically be the artist in the relationship, but the several Lance and Keith stick figures, cursive initials, and loud proclamations of his love for Keith and his talents in bubble letters are nothing short of a masterpiece.

He holds up his thumb—why exactly, he isn't sure, but it somehow helps—then dusts off his hands for added effect before resuming his shower. He runs his hands through his curls, feeling satisfied with how fast they're silken by his conditioner while taking care not to let himself or the water smear the door with his drawings. 

He turns off the knob when he’s pleasantly clean and his fingertips are sufficiently wrinkled and steps out of the shower. 

Lance quickly pats himself down. He wraps a towel around his waist and pulls open the drawer that holds his favourite face mask; he deserves a treat today, he thinks, making sure his palm is dry when he goes to wipe the steam off the mirror. Wait.

He leaves just enough room for his face to be seen and then continues drawing, this time on the mirror. His lines grow sloppier as the steam slowly starts to evaporate and he’s forced to draw faster, but he swiftly manages a quick sketch of Keith. He adds arrows that attach his name and compliments about his hair, his eyes, his shoulders, his ass—

Lance grins as far as his mask allows.

By the time he's washed off the mask, brushed his teeth, flossed, and combed his hair, the mirrors and glass are positively filled with late-night shower doodles. Lance takes a second to admire his handiwork then heads to Keith's room. 

The lights are out and Keith's already asleep when he gets there, so Lance quietly slips through the door and under the covers. He mourns their lost time but looks forward to talking about it later, once they're both wide awake and not alternating between solo missions. He shuts his eyes, smiling when he pulls Keith toward his chest and the warmth lulls him easily to sleep.

He wakes to Keith trying his best not to disrupt Lance's slumber as he climbs over Lance. Lance blinks his bleary eyes, a lazy smile pulling at his lips when Keith lightly sighs from his failed attempt and then whispers a 'good morning'. He kisses Lance's cheek, promising to return after his morning training session, and Lance smiles. He turns over onto his back, savouring the warmth and the sorely-missed experience of his favourite way to wake up. He shuts his eyes, lets himself get pulled into the strange and languid in-between state where he can't tell exactly how time passes, though he’s certain it hasn't been long when Keith's back in their room.

The blinds are still shut but he can see Keith's energized, clearly unable to hold back a smile. Lance raises an eyebrow once he’s near him and it rises even higher when Keith bites back a laugh. He lifts one leg over Lance so he's straddling him and peppers kisses all over his face.

"Wha—" Lance gasps, breathless. "What is it? Good news?"

"I love you," Keith says, in lieu of an answer. He pulls back far enough for Lance to see the flush on his cheeks and schools his expression into a smirk. "And thank you for the surprise."

"What are you talking about?"

"'Best ass in the universe?'" Keith chuckles and Lance sits up with his mouth gaping, both surprised and impressed by his drawings having remained. 

"What the fuck? That's still there?"

"Just the outlines. I stopped by yours for a hair tie 'cause I thought you'd be asleep here, then saw it." He presses a lingering kiss to Lance’s forehead, an amused smile fixed on his lips though his eyes are soft when he meets Lance's.

Lance's expression is fond. He cards a hand through the hair that grazes Keith’s nape and tucks a strand behind his ear, tilting forward so his forehead bumps Keith’s. He suppresses a laugh when he gently asks, "Did you see the dicks?"

"Oh my God," Keith groans, falling back into the covers and dragging Lance with him. "Yes. Yes, I did."

[dawnslight-aegis]

20. duel

(I'm not particularly happy with how this came out/I've been trying to think of an ending for a while, but it's just not working today, so have a rough draft of something I'll clean up in a full fic later.)

The borrowed chainmail weighed heavily on Kaede’s shoulders, making her slower and less maneuverable than she was used to. It was a good thing that the Grand Melee was not much more than a spar with live steel – she had spent most of the battle running interference against Marz, attempting to keep her from chewing through Ishgard’s carefully-managed defensive lines. The dragoon had put aside her lance for this, taking up her axe instead in the Alliance’s name, and Kaede could tell she’d have bruises in the morning from the hits she’d not quite been able to dodge.

From what she could tell, the Ishgardian and Eorzean forces were evenly matched. Greater experience and discipline was met with ingenuity and unpredictability, allowing the Eorzeans to exploit weaknesses wherever they found them. Aymeric and Raubahn’s voices rang out across the battlefield as they traded blows in its center, shouting orders that could be clearly heard even over the ringing steel and gunfire. It seemed as if it would be the Fury’s Gaze that would decide things, the only meaningful shifts in points happening when one side or the other managed to bring down whomever was chosen in that moment.

The Fury seemed to favor foot soldiers, save for the moment when she laid eyes on both Pipin and Lucia, until a wandering cyclops decided to interrupt the melee. Kaede pulled back and exchanged a glance with Marz as the attention of the battlefield shifted, both of them preparing to disengage and deal with the new threat, when she felt a strange tug on her aether. A violet tether of energy linked her to Ishgard’s battle standard – much as Raubahn now was to the Alliance’s.

As Thancred darted off into the wilderness, the cyclops in pursuit, Aymeric called for the Ishgardian forces to close ranks around her, but Kaede grinned and darted forward across the battlefield before they could encase her in a defensive formation. From the corner of her eye, she saw Marz hurtling towards Aymeric as he attempted to follow, the mighty swing of her axe barely deflected by Naegling, throwing the Lord Commander back into the snow. There was no time for anything more than a brief mental apology in his direction, because then Kaede was in the no man’s land between the battle lines, staring down the Bull of Ala Mhigo.

She had been barely past her thirteenth summer the first time her stepfather had taken her to the bloodsands of Ul’dah to see the man whose sheer presence and skill with a blade would inspire her to take up the longsword herself, to seek out the Gladiator’s Guild for further training, to take up the banner of the Immortal Flames after that – the man he’d proclaimed to be the finest warrior in all of Eorzea. In the years since, Kaede had seen no reason to dispute that claim, despite the loss of one of his arms. That Aymeric had been able to keep him occupied through most of the battle was a credit to his own skill, though she had a feeling that the Flame General had been holding back.

Not so, now.

Tizona sank into the half-frozen mud, churned up by dozens of boots, and a blast of flame-aspected aether washed over Kaede, rocking her back on her heels but tossing any nearby troops backwards, a ring of fire drying the ground and establishing a clear arena to keep any others from interfering in what he clearly intended to be a duel.

Raubahn’s voice boomed across the space between them, and Kaede felt her face pull into a grin that matched the wide one she could see beneath his bull’s head helm. “Captain. I will not lie – I was hoping it would come to this. So then… shall we dance?”

Kaede brought her fists up in the best flame salute she could manage without disarming herself. “I warn you, General – I won’t go easy on you, just because you’re an old man with one arm.”

Laughter was the only response to her impertinence, which abruptly muffled as Raubahn closed his helm and wrapped his hand around Tizona’s hilt, pulling it from the ground and charging with all the speed and power of his namesake.

Coerthas’s cold winds swirled even within the wall of flame, keeping her grounded and reminding her that they were on the Holy See’s doorstep rather than the packed sands of Ul’dah. The battle around them made a poor substitute for a cheering crowd, but Kaede could feel their attention anyway, hear their calls of encouragement, and let it spur her muscles to move faster, swing harder, hold fast against every strike against her shield. She met flame with light, the gladiator’s arts with the knight’s – at his prime, in his element, she never could have hoped to surpass him, but she was more than a stripling girl following in his footsteps. She had stepped off his path and forged her own, melding Ul’dahn bladework, Ishgardian shieldbearing, and the magic of Hydaelyn’s blessing in a way that was truly her own. She was the Warrior of Light, and she would not fall here.

Still, by the time she had driven the General to a knee, the flames around them dying as he yielded, she was shaking with the effort to remain standing, barely able to feel the hilt of her blade as she resheathed it at her side. Cheering erupted from the Ishgardians behind her as they proclaimed victory, pulling a giddy laugh from her breathless lungs, but she walked forward and held out a hand to Raubahn as he knelt.

His enormous hand fully engulfed her own as he accepted her offer, and levered himself back to his feet. He squeezed her hand before releasing it and slapping her on the shoulder, sending her staggering. “That was well-fought, lass. Hopefully next time we meet on the field, it will be standing side-by-side, not against one another.”

“Any time you need me, General, you need only ask.” Of all the leaders of the Eorzean Alliance, only Raubahn and Nanamo had not abandoned the Scions when they’d needed it, and so too was Kaede determined to stand beside them against any foes, large or small.

He nodded, warmth in his expression, before breaking back into a wide grin and chuckling. “Aye, unless Ishgard calls first, hm? Best make sure they’re on our side, as well, for that reason if nothing else.”

[nerdy-talks]

Hey there! 🫡 May I please request Dad!Tatsu (from the way of the house husband) dealing with his daughter's (the reader's) first period (everything platonic)? 😬 And then the reader is pretty calm about it (even though it she's in pain) but Tatsu is freaking out and Miku isn't home, etc. 😭😭

I'm extremely sorry for taking so long to post this, anon!

It's been a bit of a roller coaster here the past few weeks due to family stuff going on. Also, admittedly... I was a bit nervous/paranoid that I kept making Tatsu a bit out of character while I was writing. Hopefully that's not the case, though! Because despite my love for Way of the Househusband, Tatsu's lingo/way with words are a bit challenging to recreate (in the best way possible) lol ^^

With all that being said : I love this idea so much, anon! I honestly had a lot of fun writing this, so thank you for your request! I also kinda used a little bit of inspiration from my own personal experience except I didn't stay as composed as Reader does lol Anyway.... I hope you enjoy! (:

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

Platonic!Dad!Tatsu X Platonic!Daughter!Reader

Period Pains, Rough Times

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

The moment your mother had mentally prepared you for had finally arrived, yet you couldn’t help the feeling of dread wash over you.

The last thing you wanted to do was break the news to your father. You knew how he was, how he’d make a bigger deal out of the situation than was necessary.

But with a dwindling supply of feminine products left in the bathroom due to your Mom forgetting to restock and the discomfort in your lower abdomen slowly intensifying, you grit your teeth and reluctantly made your way towards the kitchen.

Standing in the doorway, you watched as your father skillfully blended a bowl of ingredients together, most likely intended for dinner later.

“Is Mom on her way home?” You inquired, looking at the clock on the wall.

“She’s gonna be late tonight, said her boss has some unfinished business left to tend to and your mother is in charge of the dirty work like usual.” Tatsu answered as he transferred the mixture into a baking pan.

“Oh…” you trailed off, gently clutching your stomach as another wave of cramps wracked your body.

Noticing the pained expression on your face, Tatsu turned his full attention to you.

“What’s going on? Ya look like you got gutted by a rival organization”

“It’s nothing serious. Just…. Can we go shopping?” You replied, choosing to ignore his less than flattering comparison.

“We just came back from running errands.” He retorted while raising an eyebrow to your seemingly odd behavior.

“I know that, but...” You paused.

“But what?”

“I forgot some items that I need for something important.”

“We can go later.” Tatsu replied nonchalantly.

“I need them sooner than later.” You argued, hoping to get the urgency across without having to elaborate.

“What’s up, kid?” He asked, concern lacing his words.

“Nothing.” Your attempt at maintaining a calm demeanor failed as the sharp ache caused you to hunch other slightly.

“It’s gotta be something.”

“Nothing.” You whined.

“Then you can wait for-“

“I need pads and medicine for cramps because I just got my period” you finally explained, knowing there was no sense in prolonging the inevitable.

A deafening silence filled the room as your father seemed frozen in place.

“Dad?” You spoke softly after a few minutes, snapping the man back to life. Tatsu raced over to you, gently grabbing your shoulders and leaning down to look you in the eyes.

“Don’t worry, (Name). There ain’t no way I’m gonna allow some punk to knock my little girl down.”

“Uh, Dad… it’s a period. Not a bully.”

~~~~

“Welcome! Can I help you find anything today?” The cheerful store clerk greeted as the new customer entered the store.

“I know you’re pushing product here. So tell me, where do you hide the good stuff?”

The clerk stared at Tatsu like he was crazy, completely unprepared for such a direct and unusual question.

“E-Excuse me?”

After his numerous failed attempts of contacting Miku at work, Tatsu realized that he would have to procure the appropriate personal care items on his own. Although this was previously uncharted territory for the ex-yakuza member, he vowed since the day you were born that his parental duties would always be of the utmost importance. Even more than his dedication to being a proper househusband.

“Ya know… the special pills designed for ladies. I need the best you’ve got, no cuttin’ corners.”

After an awkward conversation with her manager, Tatsu was directed to the correct isle and recommended the ‘best of the best’ medications for dealing with menstrual cramps.

But now, the Immortal Dragon was face-to-face with yet another monumental challenge : choosing the correct sanitary napkins.

‘We’re sorry, the person you are trying to reach is not available-‘

Click

Yet another call sent straight to voicemail. Miku had always been considerate of her husband, making sure to purchase her own feminine products at that time of the month. This was something Tatsu was now regretting, wishing he had paid closer attention to the brands and styles his wife preferred.

Wings or no wings? Scented or unscented? Ultra thin or maxi? What about sizing?

“Pardon me, sir? Do you need any help?” Another poor, unsuspecting clerk asked as she approached him.

“Yeah.” The girl instantly regretted all of her previous life choices as Tatsu turned towards her, package of pads in hand, an intimidating smile plastered on his face. “These a good brand for absorbing large amounts of blood? Can’t have a single drop ruining the interior, if ya catch my drift.”

~~~~

An hour passed before your bedroom door creaked open. Sitting up, you watched as a disheveled Tatsu entered.

“Dad? What happened?! Are you okay?” You asked, genuinely worried about your father.

“Don’t you start pitying me, (Name). I ain't dead yet. And even though it wasn’t easy, I’ll gladly take a bullet for my kid any day. What’s important is….” Extending his arm, he handed you a shopping bag filled with medicine and a few different kinds of feminine products. “I got the goods.”

~~~

“I’m sorry I wasn’t home sooner, honey. Today must have been rough for you.” Miku cooed as she rushed into your room, pulling you into a comforting embrace.

“It’s okay, Mom. It actually wasn’t that terrible. Dad got me everything I needed, and even agreed to make some chocolate cookies tonight for dessert.” You replied as you returned the hug.

“That’s great to hear, I’m so proud of how strong and mature you are.” Miku smiled and kissed your forehead.

“I guess Tacchan is the only one who had a rough day, then.” She mumbled, more to herself than to you, as she made her way back towards the door.

“What do you mean?”

Stopping mid-step, your mother sheepishly glanced back at you. “Let’s just say we can no longer shop at the nearby drugstore with your Dad anymore. Now hurry and wash your hands. Dinner is almost ready.”

With that, Miku exited your room and left you to reflect on just how grateful you were to have such an eccentric yet well-intentioned father.

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

I hope this is good enough, and that Tatsu isn't too ooc ^^"

Once again, thank you so much for the request, lovely anon! I hope you and everyone else has a wonderful day ❤️