#this is my child and they are perfect. And no I will not be taking questions. Thank you

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Saddle Me Up, Cowboy Part 1: Spin Me Around the Dance Floor✨

Cowboy! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: Thank you to @alltheirdamn for encouraging me to write this! Beth Dutton and Rip Wheeler from Yellowstone heavily inspired this short little series. I hope you enjoy 🩷

Chapter Summary: You were only trying to enjoy your drink and watch the different couples spin around the dance floor at your favorite country club, but all that changed when you set your eyes on a certain handsome brown-eyed cowboy.

Rating: 18+ only

Word Count: 4.6k

Tags: Lots of fluff, flirting, pining, two stepping, meet cute at a country western bar, no use y/n, no outbreak au, switching POVs, soft! Joel, summer love, reader has hair

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The neon lights flash across the busy dance floor as bodies sway back and forth to the slow country tune. Smoke permeates through the air as couples hold each other close and the men spin their lovers around the wooden floor. You love two stepping, love the rustic feel of the bar, love the feel of your jean shorts and fitted cowboy boots. You just love being here on a Friday night in your favorite country bar called Cowboys. 

   You stir the straw slowly around in your mixed drink, your elbow leaning against the side of the dance floor, toes tapping on the bottom of the barstool. And as you watch the happy couples spin across the floor, you can’t help but wish that was you out there. 

   When was the last time you came here with a date? Maybe two years. 

   Sure, you’ve been asked to dance. Took a twirl around the room twice with some nice blonde guy that talked about his job and dogs. But it was just friendly and casual. Just a way to spin around the dance floor a couple of times. It wasn’t a perfect match with your cowboy lover. That’s someone you haven’t met yet.

   Tonight, maybe you’d find someone. The one. A girl can dream, and that’s exactly what you do. Dream.

   Another two songs fly by as you sip your fruity drink, watching couples come and go on and off the dance floor. A slow Morgan Wallen song floats through the packed room, your eyes roam around the bar, falling on the far right corner. Just when a couple spins out of the way, it clears your view to the opposite side of the dance floor. And oh my God, your heart drops out of your chest.

   You nearly choke on the fruity liquid, your jaw dropping straight to the floor. There, right across the room, stands the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. 

   He’s tall, well over six foot. His green button-up flannel clings to strong biceps, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing thick veins that spider down into massive hands. His hair is dark and sandy, silver threaded through his tousled curls and burrowing into the thick beard against his sculpted jawline. He’s tan, dark from working out in the sun, you think. And his eyes look like the color of chocolate almonds from what you can tell under the dim lights. And his smile. Jesus, it could light up an entire room. 

   Soft. He looks so soft the way he holds the flute of his beer bottle, the way his eyes light up every time he laughs with his friends. And God, you’d kill to see him smile at you like that.

   You keep your gaze on him, staring like a child in a candy store, eyeing the last Hershey’s bar on the shelf. And it’s like your first school crush all over. You need to get a hold of yourself, but you just can’t. He’s too tempting, too smoldering, too perfect.

   And in the next moment, his eyes are on you.

—

   Sweat beads Joel’s forehead as he takes another swig of his beer, a chuckle leaving his lips as Tommy teases Maria and pulls her to his chest. She just laughs and kisses him on the cheek as he wraps her in his leather jacket. Joel wishes he had someone like that. Someone to love as much as Tommy loves her. Maybe someday he would.

   “You gonna ask anyone to dance?” Tommy asks, his brown eyes trained on Joel. 

   “Eventually,” Joel mutters, sighing as he takes another generous sip of the strong alcohol. 

   “Better before the end of the night,” Tommy laughs, pulling Maria by the hand to the dance floor. Before Tommy turns away, he gives a brotherly shove to Joel’s shoulder and winks. “Pretty girl at twelve o’clock, straight across the room. Go get her, Joel.”

   Just as Tommy leaves him with a confused expression, he looks up and freezes the minute he spots you. He gulps and sets his beer on the table, his fingers curling into the wooden tabletop, eyes wide when your eyes meet his.

   Big, glittering, beautiful eyes swallow him whole, the swirling lights making them glow even brighter. He catches his breath and has it knocked right back out of his chest again as a shy smile curls against your glossy red lips. He thinks he just fell in love. 

   Your pretty hair falls in long waves down your shoulders; your low-cut tank top sticking to your sun kissed skin shining under the bright spotlight. It’s like an angel sits before him, and he’s mesmerized. Your tight denim shorts hug your curves, and your tan boots with embroidered butterflies scuff against the barstool. Your pretty eyes flick down to your drink and back up to him repeatedly, sweetly beckoning to him to come ask you to dance.

   Shy, sweet, adorable, beautiful. He picks all this out just by looking at your pretty face. And you’re just his type of girl; he already knows it. He thinks you were made just for him to find tonight.

   It goes on like clockwork for the next few songs. Shy smiles, locked eyes, hesitation permeating through the thick, smoky air. But he won’t hesitate for long. No. He wants to know you, to dance with you, to take you out, maybe show you his ranch. 

   He just has to have you. And he will. You’ll be his by the end of the night.

   After an encouraging slap on the back from Tommy, he takes one more glance your way and hands his tan cowboy hat to Tommy. Right now he only has one task at hand, and that is to ask the pretty girl to dance. So, he swallows all his nerves and walks across the room, right through the sea of endless bodies. 

   Right to you.

—

   Your cheeks burn hot as you lock eyes again; a flirtatious game you’ve been playing for the past two songs. You practically feel on fire with the way your body reacts every time he looks at you. 

   Maybe he’ll ask you to dance. You hope he does because you have a feeling being in those big, strong arms would be like jumping into a freshly made bed after a long day at work. Warm and cozy and made just for you. 

   You bite your bottom lip and laugh as your head drops to the scuffed-up wood, a loose curl falling over your shoulder. How can you already like someone this much when you don’t even know them? Sounds pretty silly, but it gives you tingles in your feet just the same.  

   This is a good sign.

   When you look back up, your heart drops to the floor when you don’t see the handsome man standing across the room anymore. You slide further down in your chair and sigh, letting all the hope fizzle out of your tired body. 

   He left. You just wanted one dance. That’s all you wanted. One fucking dance.

   You sigh quietly and look back out at the spinning bodies on the dance floor, shaking off the growing tears in your eyes. Just when you think one might drop, your body freezes when you hear a husky, deep voice being cleared next to you. When you turn to look at who just interrupted your sulking session, you nearly fall off the barstool.

   It’s him. The man with the pretty brown eyes.

  “Hi.” His deep voice floats through your ears like a dream, and the music seems to disappear altogether.  

   “Uhh—hi,” you stammer out, your mouth agape as you watch a small smile curl against his inviting lips.

   “‘M sorry if this comes off as rude. But what’s a girl like you doin’ sittin’ on the sidelines, darlin’?” His thick Southern accent drawls out, and your eyes immediately widen when you hear how deep and staccato it sounds. You think you could listen to it all night long.

   Darlin’. He called you darlin’.

   Your words fail you, so you just brush off his apology and smile. “Can’t a girl enjoy a drink?”

   He chuckles and shakes his head, a tousled curl falling into his forehead. You want to brush it back for him. That soft looking sandy hair. “Well, sure ya can. Didn’t answer why you’re sittin’ over here by yourself, though.”

   “My friends are dancing,” you shrug, spinning your straw nervously in your drink, letting the liquid slosh around the sides.

   “Now how come a pretty thing like you ain’t out there with ‘em? Hmm?” His thick eyebrows raise in question, and another dreamy smile meets his face. 

   God, he’s so handsome.

   “Oh, I dunno. Was just watching,” you answer nonchalantly, not pointing out the fact that they’re all taken and you’re not.

   He hums to himself, his eyes flicking to the dance floor and back to you after a few seconds. “You wanna dance?” he asks softly, his chocolate eyes sparkling in the hope that you’ll say yes.

   “Huh?” you say off guard, your eyes wide at the question. 

   He just asked you to dance.

   “Do you wanna dance with me?” he asks again, nudging the side of your boot with his own worn leather boot.

   “You’re asking me to dance?” you question.

   “Ain’t that what I asked?” he chuckles, causing your stomach to somersault with the way his infectious laugh is making you feel. All warm and tingly.

   “Oh. I umm—okay,” you smile shyly, looking up through your long eyelashes at him. 

   “Is that a yes, darlin’?” he asks with a big smile.

   “Yes, I’d love to,” you confirm with a nod.

   “Well, c’mon then.” He holds out his open palm, and you don’t hesitate to take it. 

   Warm. He’s so warm. Rough, calloused hands that hold yours perfectly. A match made in heaven.

   He leads you to the middle of the dance floor, careful not to get in the way of any other couples. And then he slowly slips a hand around your waist, the other securely latched to your hand, his fingers laced through yours. And when he starts to lead the dance, you follow right after him.

   The bright lights land over him, putting his beautiful eyes right on display for you. Your breath catches when you see how soft his eyes are. Dark brown like the color of honey and onyx flecks swirling in his irises that hypnotize you to him. He’s absolutely beautiful. You’ve never seen eyes as pretty as his; ones that draw you right in. And the way he’s looking at you, all soft and like he’s looking at the most beautiful girl in the world makes your knees a little wobbly. 

   The neon signs on the walls glow in the distance, the melodic tune of a Scotty McCreery song floats in the background while couples dance around you. Joel leads you around the dance floor, holding you tight and never once stepping on your feet. 

   You scuff your boot over his toes out of nervousness, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He just chuckles and pulls you closer to where you can feel his steady heartbeat against your chest, his brown eyes staring into yours like he’s enamored by you. But he’s got your full attention, and you’re so into him already.

   “What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asks, his Southern drawl completely melting you at the sweet sound. You tell him yours and when your name slips off his tongue, you nearly fall to your knees in awe.

   “And yours? What’s yours, Cowboy?” you ask over the loud couple that whips around you. 

   “Cowboy, huh? Already got a nickname for me, sweetheart?” he chuckles, eyes lighting up at the nickname like he wants you to say it again. And maybe you will.

   “Maybe so,” you giggle, relaxing into the dance as he spins you around in circles, the lights following your movements.

   “The name’s Joel. Joel Miller.” He tips his head and gives you a big smile. You can’t help but giggle every time he smiles at you. It’s like you’re in first grade all over, and Joel’s the new, cute boy that’s caught your attention in class.

   “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Joel.” 

   “Pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart,” he smiles, keeping you close to his warm body. You let out another nervous giggle, and it just makes him smile wider like he’s addicted to your laugh. 

   “I like your laugh, darlin’. Could listen to it all night,” he sighs dreamily, chocolate eyes melting as he looks intensely at you, honing in on just you while the rest of the room disappears. Your breath hitches for just a second, and then you melt right back into him.

   “Well, I like your brown eyes,” you lull, your eyes locked on his pretty pools of honey. You giggle when he blushes, and then a dimple indents into his left cheek when he smiles. And God, you think you just fell in love. 

   “And your smile. I love your pretty smile. It lights up a room, darlin’. And you lit up the whole damn bar tonight,” he drawls, his warm breath fanning over your open mouth, gawking at this handsome gentleman. 

   He’s fucking perfect. 

   He lifts his arm and spins you around in a complete circle, his large hand finding your hip again and pulling you back into his broad chest. And there you are, completely breathless again.

   “So, Cowboy. What made you want to come ask me to dance?” you ask, curiosity circling in your wide eyes.

   “Saw you from across the room, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off you,” he answers honestly with the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

   “Me?” you ask, taken aback. 

   “Yes, you,” he chuckles as he guides you across the polished dance floor.

   “There’s a hundred other girls in here who’ve had their eyes on you all night,” you scoff in a playful way.

   “Oh? Is that so?” An eyebrow lifts in piqued interest, but his eyes still don’t leave yours. They stay glued to you.

   “Mhm,” you hum in confirmation.

   “That means you’ve been watchin’ me too, ain’t that right?” he smirks devilishly, his brown eyes darkening just slightly.

   “No I—no. That’s not…” you stutter, at a loss for words. You were watching him. Ever since you saw him across the room; that damn smile that has your head spinning.

   “S’alright, sweetheart. Wasn’t tryin’ to get you all flustered now,” he chuckles, obviously trying to get you flustered. He doesn’t have to try hard because you’re already overly flustered.

   “I’m not flustered,” you scoff, your cheeks burning hotter with every second his chocolate eyes are on you.

   “No? Well, you’re pretty cute when you’re blushin’, darlin’. Maybe I want you flustered,” he grins, a beautiful smile curling against his plush lips.

   “Careful, Cowboy. You might be the one blushing next,” you tease, narrowing your eyes playfully in response.

   “I’d like to see you try, sweetheart,” he challenges, his eyes growing into a soft syrupy color you want to drown in.

   “Maybe I will, brown eyes,” you say with the flash of a smile.

   “Brown eyes, huh? Kinda like the sound of that.” His pretty eyes are genuine when he says it, like it’s the best thing you’ve said this whole dance. And the pink that marinates around his dark scruff tells you enough. He does like it.

   You smirk in knowing and wink playfully his way, creating a deeper blush on his tanned skin. It makes your heart skip a beat. “Good, now you’re the one blushing.”

   He shakes his tousled curls and sighs, his eyes alight with an enamored glow. “Christ, you’re adorable.”

   “If you say so, Cowboy,” you say, letting him continue the dance even though there’s a new song booming from the overhead speakers.

   He wraps his large hand tighter against your waist, and you let his other gently glide up and down the back of your hand. A caress that’s laced with care.

   “I do say so, sweetheart,” he chuckles warmly. “But you wanna know the real reason why I asked you to dance?”

   You keep your eyes trained on the glow of his and squint carefully. “Tell me.”

   He takes a deep breath and smiles shyly. “The reason I asked you is ‘cause I thought you were the prettiest girl in the room.”

   Your mouth gawks open in shock. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl in the room? Wow. “Me? Are you sure you picked the right girl?” 

   “Yes, you,” he nods, his thumb stroking against your soft skin. An affirmation of what? Care, admiration, love?

   “You think I’m… pretty?” you ask hesitantly, your voice quiet and meek. He can’t think you’re the prettiest girl. There’s no way.

   “Mhm. Gorgeous. And your eyes. Absolutely beautiful, sweetheart. They make the lights in here look dim with how bright yours shine.”

   You stare in amazement at him, eyes as wide as an owl’s gawking at the man with pretty brown eyes who swept you off your feet. You’re falling into places you’ve never been, and you’re quite scared of how many feelings are bubbling up inside you already. But at this moment, you don’t care. All you can do is stare at him affectionately as he spins you around the room.

   He’s perfect. 

   “So, what does a pretty girl like you do for work, sweetheart?” he asks, molton brown eyes glazing into yours, making you audibly gasp how pretty they are.

   “I’m a vet assistant.”

   “Vet assistant, huh? You ever work on cattle, by chance?” His wide brown eyes are full of hope, and a smile tugs at his lips. 

   “Unfortunately no. Just dogs and cats mostly. Why? You got some cattle, Cowboy?” Your eyebrow arches, and a mischievous smirk curls over your mouth.

   He chuckles and nods his head. “As a matter of fact, I do. I own a ranch,” he says proudly, standing a little taller, making your face hurt from smiling so damn much at him. 

   “So you are a Cowboy. I knew it,” you giggle. “What kind of animals do you have?”

   “Tons,” he says, the neon lights glowing over his tousled curls. “Horses, cows, bulls, chickens, sheep, dogs, and the list goes on.”

   “My, my. You got your hands full. Don’t you, Cowboy?” you blush, fluttering your eyelashes flirtatiously up at him. You like him even more now. 

   “Reckon I do,” he chuckles, his thumb tracing light circles against the back of your hand, eliciting goosebumps down your arms. 

   “Too full to handle one more thing?” you question, giving him your best puppy dog eyes that you can manage. 

   He shakes his head and smiles warmly. “If that one thing is you then ‘course not. Got all the room for you, darlin’.”

   Your eyes soften into liquid and your head is spinning as you stare at this beautiful man. You’re already falling head over heels, and you think he is too. 

   “You ever ride a horse before?” he asks, tilting his head like he’s assessing you.

   You shake your head in response. “I mean, when I was little I rode on a pony. But a horse? No. Can’t say that I have.” 

   “You wanna learn? Got a stallion back at home that has your name on the saddle.” His smile is breathtaking, just like his honey-colored eyes. Your heart gallops in your chest like hooves pounding on the ground. He wants to teach you how to ride?

   “You really plan on teaching me?” Your eyebrows pinch together, hesitation stuck on your tongue. 

   He nods, a fleeting smile meeting his beautiful eyes. “Consider it our first date, darlin’. Gonna turn you into a little cowgirl.”

   “Oh, a cowgirl, huh? Is that what I’m going to be?” you giggle flirtatiously, and he picks right back up on it as he winks at you.

   “S’right. My cowgirl.”

   My cowgirl. 

   Your heart gets stuck in your throat, words lodged deep inside. So you do what you can do. Smile and trace your fingertips across his broad shoulder, letting the soft flannel graze against your smooth skin. 

   As the song slows to a halt, you find the opportunity to wrap both of your arms tightly around his neck, nuzzling your face into the soft fabric of his flannel. His arms circle your hips, and one hand gently runs up and down your lower back, sending electricity zapping through your nerve endings. 

   You smell him now. His woodsy cologne, the hint of sweet beer on the tip of his tongue, faint scents of smoke on his collar, the scent of leather in the air. He smells like your favorite scent all mixed together, combined into the perfect formula to get you drunk off him. And you’d gladly get drunk off him. 

   “Lady May” by Tyler Childers plays through the speakers; the slow song sending the mood of the bar into  a romantic, all consuming type of way. Love’s permeating through the air, and you can feel it everywhere. It tingles in your toes, brushes like a breeze through your hair, spirals down the back of your spine, floods your heart with warmth you’ve never felt before, makes your eyes sparkle like starlight through the bright lights, landing right in the palm of Joel.

   Put your toes down in the water. And a smile across your face. And tell me that you love me. Lovely Lady May.

   He pulls you closer, where your chin is tucked against the crook of his neck, his woodsy cologne making you feel a bit dizzy. 

   Now I ain’t the sharpest chisel that your hands have ever held. But, darling, I could love you well.

   Lovely lady May.

   His lips brush over the crown of your head, his fingertips lighting your nerve endings on complete fire, sparks igniting in his caramel eyes. The way he’s looking at you makes you think he’s already in love with you. And maybe you’ve already fallen in love with him, too. 

   As the music slows, he dips you low, not daring to let your back touch the scuffed-up wood. When he pulls you back up, he brings you flush to his broad chest, and his scent is everywhere. 

   His brown eyes sparkle like glitter, shooting stars that only you can make a wish on in the clear night sky. And his smile. My God, you’ve never seen anything as beautiful as him before.

   He gently brushes a loose curl behind your ear, lingering his calloused fingertips down your jawline, ending right under your chin where he stills. The room melts away, the noisy crowd disappearing as the song completely takes a hold of you. 

   But I’m baptized in your name. Lovely Lady May. 

   His thumb slowly traces your bottom lip, leaving invisible marks that’ll stick like permanent ink, branding you as his own. The way he’s staring at you all soft and deeply makes you melt into him even more.

   One more trace, one more shy smile, and he’s asking. “Darlin’?”

   “Yes?” you ask breathlessly.

   “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his Southern drawl sounding lovestruck and angelic. “And thank you for allowin’ me to dance with the prettiest girl in the room. But there’s jus’ one more thing I’d like to do.” His mouth drops a little lower, and your breath hitches.

   “And what’s that?” you ask, lilting at his soft smile.

   “I’d really like to kiss you…” he breathes, his deep timbre shaky as his brown eyes melt into you.

   You lean up on your tiptoes, blowing your breath over his open lips. “Then kiss me, Cowboy…” you whisper out.

   He cups your face the next second and leans in, crashing his lips down on yours without any hesitation. And he draws you in like a moth to a flame. 

   His lips are soft like velvet, and he tastes like your new favorite flavor. Blue moon, sweet and savory with a hint of smoke and mint marinating on his tongue. 

   And then your lips become his as you fall like rain into his kiss.

   Mint. Blue Moon. Smoke. Velvet. Cedar Wood. Leather.

   He’s all you know now. 

   You stay like that for minutes, connected like webs to each other in the middle of the dance floor as couples swirl in a colorful blur around you. When the two of you finally disconnect from each other’s lips, a big smile curls against his mouth and his pretty brown eyes look like they’re laced with love the longer he looks at you.

   He brushes his thumb against your lower lip and leans in close, his lips tracing the shell of your ear. “You taste like mine, darlin’.”

   And that’s when you fall head over heels for the Cowboy that snatched your heart and made you his own.

   He pulls you in for another dance, and you let him lead you through another song which turns into another and another and another. You lose count. All you know is that you’d dance all night with him if you could. 

   After over an hour of twirling around the dance floor with him, he buys you a drink and leads you over to two barstools. You end up with your legs sprawled over his lap, his fingertips tracing lines over your thighs, his lips brushing over your cheek while he places his cowboy hat on top of your head, claiming you as his own. 

   You end up meeting Joel’s brother, Tommy, and his wife, Maria. And you spend all night laughing and flirting with Joel while you bond over music and shared interests. Turns out you have a lot in common. 

   It’s the way his smile stops your heart and his brown eyes that send your head spinning. It’s the way he calls you his girl and the way he can’t keep his hands off you for even a second. You’ve never been this wrapped up in a guy before, but you’ve never met a handsome gentleman like Joel. A cowboy that won your heart over the second he looked at you. 

   He ends the night by driving you home, walking you up to your door, pulling you against his broad chest as his thumb traces lightly against your skin affectionately. You don’t want to say goodnight.

   “So, pretty girl. How ’bout I pick you up at 4:00 o’clock tomorrow? Can give you your first ridin’ lesson, maybe watch the sunset from the back of my truck. Can tell you how beautiful you look under the stars,” he drawls, his brown eyes sparkling under the moonlight. 

   He has you reeled in, pulling you in like he just lassoed his way into your heart. 

   “Quite the romantic type. Aren’t you, Cowboy?” you blush, lacing your fingers through his tousled curls. 

   “That I am,” he chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulls you tighter against him. “So, what do ya say, Cowgirl? You gonna let me take you on that date?”

   “Pick me up at 4:00, and I’m all yours.”

   “All mine?” he smiles, his warm breath fanning over your lips.

   “All yours,” you confirm.

   He pulls you in for a slow, romantic kiss, letting it linger as the stars twinkle above your porch. You’re never going to get tired of his kisses, his soft Southern drawl, his big brown eyes. You’re only going to grow more in love with him every day. And you’ll let it grow like a wildfire that consumes you whole. 

   This was only the beginning. The beginning of a perfect summer love that would never fade away. 

Tags for those that were interested: @mountainsandmayhem @alltheirdamn @lotusbxtch @almostfoxglove @burntheedges

@jasminedragoon @inept-the-magnificent @magpiepills @almostempty @aurorawritestoescape

@milla-frenchy @pedrospatch @thundermartini @lanaispunk @sawymredfox @ace-turned-confused

@stylesispunk @there1snothingleft4u @littlevenicebitch69 @tuquoquebrute @ajw-23

[fleurrreads]

my girls

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: mentions of child birth, azriel being so grossly protective and loving, tooth rotting fluff

author's note: i'm actually so in love with this. based on this request ♡

Your labour was anything but an easy one. You had been pushing for six hours. You're beyond tired. Madja has been trying to make this as painless as possible for you, but birthing an Illirian's baby with wings was a challenge you weren't ready for. You were shattered, and absolutely drained. Azriel has been nothing but supportive, whispering sweet nothings in your ear for the duration of your labour.

"You're doing so well, angel. You're almost there. Just one more push." he had said, wiping a line of sweat from your forehead, pushing your hair out of your face.

And now, six hours later, your baby girl is born. Arella, the most perfect little girl. You can't take your eyes off of her, even though your mind is screaming at you to go to sleep, get some rest. Azriel notices you fighting sleep and moves over to you, sitting on the edge of the bed, taking your hand in his. "You need some sleep my love. I'll watch her while you rest." You exhale deeply, nodding in agreement. You really could use the rest.

You look up at Azriel, closing your eyes and opening them again slowly, dreadfully tired. "I look like an absolute mess right now. I desperately need a bath, Az." you say, and Azriel's features soften. He takes your hand in his, looking at you with a small smile. "You look as beautiful as ever, my sweet girl." he places a feather light kiss to your lips. Your heart flutters at his words, and you tear up at the gesture. If Azriel did only one thing in all the time you've known him, it would be showing you that you're always beautiful. No matter the day or event. Even after pushing a living faerie out of your body for six hours.

Your eyes flutter closed not long after, and you awaken several hours later. Thoroughly rested and ready for the whirlwind that is motherhood. Azriel is there as you wake with baby Arella in his hands, a protective hold on her. You're pretty sure that she might be the safest babe in all of Prythian. You smile at the two, your whole world.

And you wouldn't have it any other way. Life with Azriel is everything you could ever hope for. And now you'd be sharing it with Arella too.

reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! ★

[merakiui]

I’ve seen bits and pieces about your take on yandere Trey but i need to hear more of your thoughts on him. Your interpretation of yandere Trey seems so different from all the other interpretations I’ve seen of him… like you said he was the scariest yandere at one point, and then the post about chenya riddle and Trey — I need to know

*cracks knuckles* >:) here are my thoughts!!

He's definitely one of the scariest twst yans (to me)! Trey's character is so fascinating because, compared to some of the more powerful/influential characters, he seems like Some Guy. What's so frightening about Trey is that he doesn't have to use violence or threats. Rather, it's the way he can twist his words to keep you constantly questioning yourself and your reality. He has the perfect boy-next-door sort of charm that lulls you into that false sense of security, and you'll never truly know the extent of his manipulations because of how flawlessly he can gaslight you. And everyone else will think you're crazy because Trey's not like that. He's gentle and helpful, everyone's big brother! Maybe you're the crazy one... (Are you??)

His UM is quite literally just a more sophisticated, magical version of gaslighting (lol). ^^;;;; the way that can be used against you and you might not even know. Trey plays it off as a parlor trick in book one when he changes the flavor of food to suit everyone's preferences, but it's seen to be quite formidable against Riddle's magic. If a UM can overwrite the very overpowered Riddle's magic....... even if only for a few minutes,,, that's no mere parlor trick.

Perhaps the horror stems from how very easy it is to fall into the trap. Trey isn't a yandere you approach with fear because there's nothing about him that would give you valid reason to stay away. It's understandable for someone like the tweels or even Vil because they have that air of intimidation about them, but Trey is so sweet and kind. He couldn't hurt a fly. He's so easy to approach.

Trey is not very combative either. If you come to him with an issue (perhaps an attempt to call out his behaviors) he'll smooth things over in such a way that you come out of that conversation wondering what you were even trying to talk to him about. He understands where you're coming from, he knows you're just stressed, everything will sort itself out, let's all just calm down, etc etc., all while over tea and some freshly baked pastries.

Also,,, gaslighting is such an effective and dangerous form of emotional abuse because of how successful it can be. When it's happening, it doesn't seem very damaging and, rather, it can feel as if everything Trey is telling you is correct. After all, why are you getting so worked up? You must be exaggerating these feelings of yours! It sounds so logical coming from his mouth, and why would Trey have any reason to lie to you? You're so wrapped around his finger and you don't even know it. Your world is so closed off, crafted by the things he tells you. You may think you have control, but at the end of the day it's Trey who keeps you hooked on his line like you're nothing more than an impressionable fish.

Omg and the infantilization....... he tells you it's just a habit of his from looking after his younger siblings, and he plays it off so casually and jokingly every time. You begin to wonder if it really is just a bad habit of his. But then there should be no reason for him to treat you like you can't do things you're fully capable of doing. You ask yourself 'what if' all the time. What if you don't have Trey there to help? What if you truly can't do that thing? What if Trey was right?

You're not a child; you're not codependent. But you always feel this way around Trey, and that's a snare that's difficult to shake. Especially when Trey so smoothly hammers that narrative into your head.

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

My hand is resting on Ash’s chest as we lie together in comfortable silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. The quiet is soothing and I’m grateful he doesn’t feel the need to fill it with conversation, that we can just be here together.

Slowly, I begin tracing my fingers lightly across his collarbone, then up his arm stretched over his head, and back again. He closes his eyes and smiles contentedly, so I continue, brushing my fingertips back across his chest and down his abdomen.

His skin is so soft and pale, it reminds me of the flowering dogwoods that would bloom in spring at the park near the house where I grew up. I read about them in school once and became fascinated by them. I would sit in the grass underneath them and run my fingers along the white petal-like blossoms, examining the tiny flowers at their center.

I make a mental note to tell Ash about them sometime. I bet he’d love them, want to study them and draw them.

The velvety texture of his skin is contrasted by a coarse trail of jet-black hair. I follow the trail down, stopping as my hand grazes past two small scars low on his belly, just inside his hips. “What are these from?” I ask.

He glances down briefly and then rests his head back, “They’re from a hysterectomy.”

“Oh. So, you can’t—?”

“Mm-mm, you can’t get me pregnant or anything.”

“Good to know. So, if you want kids one day, you’d just have to adopt?”

“Not necessarily. I had my eggs frozen, just in case. So, I could have a biological child, I’d just need a surrogate.”

“Really? Do you think you’ll do it? Have kids?”

“Oh, god, I don’t know. I had them stored for ten years, so I have plenty of time to decide. It’s not really something I’m worried about right now.”

“Makes sense,” I whisper as my hand resumes its journey, brushing my fingertips up and down one thigh and then the other before making my way back up again, all the way up to his face, turning it gently toward me. When he opens his eyes again, before I can stop myself, I say, “Ash, you’re perfect, you know that?”

His eyebrows stitch together in a pained expression, “Atlas…”

I know. I know it’s not fair. I can’t say things like that if we’re “just friends”. He doesn’t have to tell me. It’s written all over his face. But look at us, we’ve already crossed so many lines tonight that the walls I’d built up are crumbling around me, and I’m not ready to put them back. Not yet. Not tonight. So, even if I shouldn’t, I have to ask, “Will you stay? Will you sleep here tonight?”

Putting his arms around me, he smiles, “Yeah, of course I’ll stay.”

“Thank you,” I exhale, relieved. "Can I get you anything? Do you want some water?"

“Yes, actually, that would be amazing.”

“Okay, I’ll go get some.”

“Thanks. And, um, can I use your bathroom?”

“Yeah, it’s just out the door to your left.”

In the kitchen, I drink down a large glass of water in one breath, practically gasping by the time I finish it. As I refill it, along with a second glass for Ash, I turn my head slightly to smell myself… just in case. Thankfully, I don’t stink yet, but I’ve accumulated enough layers of sweat throughout the night that I’m certain I’ll be ripe by morning.

I glance at the bathroom door, debating, wondering if it’s a step too far, too intimate, but decide to ask him anyway.

When the door opens, I walk over to meet him on his way out.  I hand him the glass of water and he drinks it nearly as quickly as I did. “Thank you,” he says, breathless.

“Are you tired?” I ask.

“Not really, why?”

“Do you want to take a shower with me?”

“That shower?” he points to the door he just came out of, “Is there even enough room for two people?”

“Not really,” I shake my head with a smile, knowing it’s ridiculous, but still hoping he says yes.

He considers for a moment, searching my face as if he’s waiting for me to tell him I’m joking. When I don’t, he replies with a shrug, “Fuck it, sure.”

Some find it strange, but I enjoy showering with people. It’s intimate in its own way. I mean, aside from the obvious, like being naked in a small space not really meant for two people, placing hands on an arm or waist or back as we maneuver around each other. That has its own pleasures too, of course, but I like getting a glimpse into people’s routines, their daily habits. All those little things that no one else notices, or pays attention to, or has the privilege of witnessing. Like the way Ash never puts his face under the water. He tips his head back to rinse it, gets right up to the hairline, but no farther, ensuring gravity prevents the water from running down over his face.

When I ask him why, he says, “I don’t like it. It makes me feel like I’m drowning.” And then I understand. I remember the story he told me about nearly drowning in the ocean, how he was caught in the undertow when he was a child, how he would have died if it wasn’t for his mother.

We laugh as we awkwardly squeeze past each other, trading places so I can rinse my hair. As I stand under the water and close my eyes, I feel him place his hands gently on my abdomen, slowly tracing the lines of the muscle just below the surface with his fingertips. “Jesus, look at you,” he says, “maybe I should take up rock climbing.”

I let out a small laugh, “It’s fun. I could teach you.”

“Nah, I don’t think it’s for me. It’s a shame you ever have to put clothes on, though.”

“Not tonight, I don’t.” I shut off the water quickly and then turn back to him, “I won’t if you won’t.”

“Deal.” He answers a little too quickly, and then adds, “Not that I have anything to wear anyway.”

“I would’ve given you something if you wanted. Too late now, though.”

He laughs as I hop out to grab a couple of towels.

After drying off, I walk over to the sink and grab a fresh toothbrush from the cabinet below. It’s brand new and still in the package. I hold it up to show it to him and then set it on the counter, “If you want,” I say before grabbing my own toothbrush and running it under the water.

He picks it up and raises his eyebrows a me, “You do this often enough that you keep these on hand, huh?”

I shake my head to reassure him, “No, they’re Dawn’s. She’s super weird about brushing her teeth all the time. She’s almost always carrying one around. There’s like ten of them down there, she won’t care if you take one.”

“Thank you,” he says sincerely as he opens the package and discards it in the trash. He squeezes toothpaste along the bristles, but then stops and looks up at me.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing. You’re just… you’re really nice.” I can’t quite read the expression on his face when he says this, it’s almost as if the sentiment makes him sad.

In a pitiful attempt to lighten the mood, I tell him, “Well, if it makes you feel any better, it’s purely selfish.”

He gives me a small smile, “Oh yeah? My breath is that bad?”

“No, I just want you to be comfortable. Because the more comfortable you are, the longer you’ll stay.” Instinctually, I lean over and kiss his forehead. I don’t know why, it just felt natural to do so, like I’d done it a hundred times before. As soon as my lips graze his skin, I know that I have. I see it. Many times, in many different places I don’t recognize. On a couch or in a bed or even standing on a beach. It feels so real that it takes me aback.  I pull away and he looks up at me with that same look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, knowing now what’s making him sad. I’m not acting like a friend; I’m acting like a boyfriend. And we both know I can’t give him that. Though, I’m starting to have trouble remembering why. Seems like it’s taking more effort not to. “We should get some sleep,” I say, suddenly feeling exhausted.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute,” he replies, and then turns away to brush his teeth.

I put fresh glasses of water by the bed, turn off the lamp, and lie down, turning to face the wall because I don’t know what I’ll do if I’m facing him when he comes to bed. I don’t trust myself, and I feel like I’ve done enough damage already. He’s probably upset with me, and I wouldn’t blame him if he changed his mind and decided to leave.

I prepare myself for the worst when he finally comes in, but he surprises me by getting into bed, scooting over to me, and pressing his entire body against the length of mine. He wraps his arm around me and squeezes me tight, kissing the back of my shoulder. I don’t know why he’s chosen to be so sweet to me, but I’m grateful for it. I close my eyes and allow myself to relax into him as I drift off to sleep.

Prev // Next

[violetlichen]

nobody puts my bald baby in a corner

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen / Named Atreides wife A little nsfw but that's not the point. Domestic family life. They have five kids and Feyd desperately wants another. Wifey won't oblige. Don't pay attention to the other characters and Houses I included, I don't know anything about Dune and I just pulled from the fandom wiki or made them up. Their son is not the Kwisatz Haderach either!

It has been five years since Feyd-Rautha last saw his wife swell with his child.

It is entirely by her design, and certainly not for lack of trying. He ravages her senseless almost every night, but after five children, the ever infuriating Diana Atreides refuses to give him another. As a Bene Gesserit, it is within her power to do so; the witches are able to bend their own reproduction to their will, and Feyd-Rautha believes she likes his methods of convincing her too much to give him what he wants.

Tonight, he almost has her hooked. He kisses her knee and up her bare thigh, licking and sucking the plush skin there. She barely acknowledges him and lets him fondle her as he pleases, lost in her own thoughts. 

“She’s too old for him. He’s just a boy.”

They are currently hosting several of the Great Houses. Earlier at dinner, he and Diana were approached by the Duke of Ginaz, who suggested they betroth his daughter to their oldest son, Aleksei. Diana had hidden her frown behind her glass of wine, but Feyd-Rautha had seen it and filed it away for later, thanking the Duke for his time.

He hums against her thigh, tongueing over the faint bruise he made. He can use this.

“He will be a man soon,” he reminds her. He pulls her leg over his shoulder as he shifts up the bed, now eye level with her weeping cunt. His mouth waters. “Even if we refuse this proposal, there will be others.”

He knows his wife wants to say more, but the words die in her throat when he shoves his nose against her, inhaling her scent and releasing a shaky breath. He pretends it is for her benefit, but really, this is all for him. With his fingers pulling apart the seam of her, his tongue lolls out, and Feyd-Rautha feasts. 

When he has had his fill of her pleasure, he crawls up the length of her body. She pants underneath him, back arching and eyes squeezing shut like a satisfied cat, her neck exposed and vulnerable. He licks off the sweat there.

“It will not stop with Aleksei,” he says, leaning over her.

Diana scowls. She shoves him, but he does not yield. He grasps her hand, pulling it away from his chest and up to his mouth, where he kisses her fingers.

He knows he is being cruel, rubbing salt in her wound. Her children are growing. At twelve years old, Aleksei is admittedly still too young to seriously consider for marriage, but the coming years will go by in a blink. First it will be Aleksei, then Nikita shortly after, and then Maxim – although their youngest and most unstable son will be difficult to pawn off, Feyd-Rautha thinks. 

His girls are another story. Sasha and Grisha were both gifted their mother’s beauty, but it is Grisha, their youngest, who takes after Feyd-Rautha the most. She is the only one of his children who did not inherit those dark Atreides curls. She is perfect; wholly Harkonnen, like her father. He knows he will feel how Diana does now when it is time for Grisha to leave his side.

It is why he fucks into his wife now, flexing his hips slowly and purposefully, so she feels every inch of his longing. He staves off the urge to empty himself inside of her prematurely, already aching to see her breasts swollen and leaking. 

He stops, trying to catch his breath. He pulls back from Diana to thumb over her pearl, grinding his length into her. “Shall I leave you like this, wife?” he asks her.

“Don’t you dare,” she snaps, her hips chasing his fingers.

“I can give you what you want,” he taunts. “I will pump you full of my children happily. What is one more?”

Diana does not answer, but he sees her breaking, just as he is. He holds her legs open, jutting into the apex of them, growling as he stares her down, willing her to change her mind. She hides her fears behind her pleasure, hides the tear sliding down her cheek by turning her face into the pillow, taking what he gives her.

What is one more child? Certainly not the solution to her problem. It is only a delay of the inevitable, that one day they will all grow up and no longer need her. Feyd-Rautha knows this. But he hopes to delay his wife’s suffering, just as he will delay her gratification if she does not give him what he wants.

When he pumps his load into her, he knows she is not satisfied. He breathes through his own satisfaction, nose flaring like a bull, but she does not complain like he expected her to. She does not roll him over to claim him, or bring her fingers to her cunt to finish what he started, his eyes on her hole, full of his spend.

Instead she buries her face in her hands. Feyd-Rautha leans his weight onto her and pulls her hands away, revealing her face to him. She blinks at him, her lashes wet and clumping together.

He knows what she is feeling. “I feel it, too,” he says. “Let me give you another, my darling.”

Diana nods and looks away, breathing out a held breath. “Alright,” she says. Her eyes soften fondly when they focus on him again. “Alright.”

They lay together for a while, enjoying each other’s company. Feyd-Rautha does not know if tonight will be the night, but he hopes. He hopes she sees it the way he does -- a continuation of their happiness, not the eventual ending of it. He kisses every part of Diana he can reach, and she cuddles into him, their limbs a tangled mess. 

A little later into the night, a knock on the door breaks their comfortable silence. Feyd-Rautha grunts, already irritated, and removes himself from her, slipping on a robe and his pants.

When he opens the door, he finds a wide-eyed servant. “It is the children, Baron Harkonnen.”

Feyd-Rautha frowns and widens the door, panic souring him. “Where are they?”

“They are safe, Baron Harkonnen, but there has been a bit of trouble.”

Diana appears behind him, wrapping her robe around her waist. "What sort of trouble?" she asks, brow furrowed.

“It will be best if you follow me to the drawing room within the guest wing, Baroness.”

Diana whips past Feyd-Rautha and the servant, not waiting for either of them to lead her to the guest wing. Feyd-Rautha follows after her, and he knows to expect his boys. It is not the first time he was awoken by something they have done when they should have been sleeping, but it does concern him that they were found in the guest wing.

Although he is the youngest son, Maxim is the instigator of all things. Not as bright as the others, he is aggressive and impulsive, often letting his hands speak for him. He acts before he thinks, and it frustrates Diana greatly. Many nights Feyd-Rautha has been brought before Maxim in the kitchens, where he sticks his grubby hands into pies and picks at berries meant for the morning’s breakfast. The guards know not to let him out of his room at night without their explicit permission.

But as explosive as Maxim is, it is Aleksei who reminds Feyd-Rautha the most of his own brother, Beast Rabban. His oldest son is proud and quick to anger, easily riled by Maxim and his sisters who poke and prod at him in the ways only younger siblings can. Feyd-Rautha does his best to temper Aleksei, to show him the value in patience, in choosing his battles.

Nikita, self-sufficient boy that he is, waits until the battles are over and won to pick at what remains. He watches. Feyd-Rautha suspects Diana favors him over the others, though she will never admit it. 

All of them dote on their sisters. Sasha has them carry her around on their backs, even when they are tired and sore and agitated from their training. They still treat Grisha like she is their baby, although she is almost six years old now and loathes the comparison. 

Each of them, in their own ways, bring honor to their House. It is not something he had ever imagined for himself when thinking about his future. Feyd-Rautha is proud of his children, and he would not be disinclined to have another.

The chaos they find upon entering the drawing room is enough for him to change his mind.

The lord and lady from Zanbar, whose names Feyd-Rautha has forgotten, fawn over their young daughter, who sits upon an ottoman in front of the fireplace, her face red and streaked with tears. She cries as she pulls at what remains of her blonde hair. It has been crudely chopped off, the ends blunt and jagged like it had been sawed with a knife.

Their boys stand sullenly in front of the governess, disheveled in her bathrobe and still flustered from being awoken in the middle of the night to collect them. Aleksei folds his arms over his chest, his head full of curly dark hair held high. Next to him, Nikita remains calm in the face of their impending scolding. He very likely had done nothing wrong but bear witness to the antics of his rowdy brothers. Meanwhile, Maxim openly glares at the small weeping girl. She deserved what she got, and he is waiting for a reason to give her more to cry over.

“What happened?” Diana asks, dismayed.

“Your sons snuck into my daughter’s bedchamber and cut her hair off while she slept!” the lord’s wife snaps, borderline hysterical. “Where were her guards? How was this allowed to happen?”

She is reaching an unnatural decibel, but withers under the glare Feyd-Rautha shoots her. They were pulled from their bed for this? His darkening expression does not fully quell the lady's anger, and she gawks at her husband, willing him to say something.

"I'm sure there's an explanation," the lord offers unhelpfully, averting his timid gaze.

Diana stills, taking in the sight of the poor girl’s hacked hair. With a deep inhale, she turns to the boys, her hand finding her hip. “Explain yourselves.”

“She was mocking Grisha, mother,” Maxim says, scowling. “We heard her at dinner.”

Aleksei nods, more self-righteous and refined in his anger. “She laughed at Grisha and made her cry because she doesn’t have hair.” He sneers when the lord’s daughter wails a little louder at this, because she, too, does not have hair now. “She called her ugly.”

Diana looks heartbroken over this, but her Bene Gesserit training helps to quickly neutralize her face. She looks to Nikita. “And you? What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I told them not to.”

Feyd-Rautha believes him. Nikita is no less ruthless, but he is also a diplomat by nature, preferring more uninvolved methods of justice or revenge. This boldness is certainly the work of his brothers.

Feyd-Rautha cannot wait to reward them handsomely for it.

Diana believes Nikita as well, for she turns back to the other two. “Apologize to Lady Rosalind.”

“But mother, she–”

“Enough,” Feyd-Rautha rasps, growing tired of the spectacle. “Do as your mother says, so we may all retire to our beds.” He shoots another glare at the lord and lady, who bluster under his attention, too afraid of him to protest again.

Aleksei and Maxim step forward and bow to the young girl. “We’re sorry,” they echo, not meaning it at all.

Knowing that is the best she will get from them, Diana exhales deeply and dismisses them back to their rooms, escorted by their governess to make sure they get there and do not take any more detours. Nikita follows, ever their solemn shadow. 

Diana kneels down beside Lady Rosalind. “Don’t fret. Hair grows back,” she soothes. The girl hiccups, and Diana gently brushes the hair out of her eyes before standing up to face her parents again. “I apologize on behalf of my sons. As you can see, they love their sister very much and do not take kindly to those who upset her.”

The lord and lady of Zanbar try to hide their grimaces. They know their indignancy is unfounded now that they know their daughter had started this. “Baroness, I must apologize–” the lord starts.

“That won’t be necessary,” Diana interrupts, putting a graceful hand up to stop him. “Let’s put this unpleasantness behind us. My husband and I will question our guards to understand how this was allowed to happen. Those responsible will be thoroughly punished.” She looks at Feyd-Rautha. “That includes our sons.”

This seems to satisfy the lord and lady enough to gather up their snot nosed daughter and leave, perhaps vowing to never step foot on Giedi Prime again. Feyd-Rautha will not miss them.

He and Diana walk back to their bedchamber in an agitated silence, until she breaks it.

“Still want another?” she asks him, deadpan.

“Not particularly. Would you still like me to thoroughly punish them?”

“Not particularly.”

Feyd-Rautha hums, and he reaches for her hand. 

The next morning, Feyd-Rautha walks over to Grisha where she sits on the wide stone fence, her little legs dangling over the side. The boys train in the yard, and she watches with her dolls, acting out the sparring techniques she sees with them. He kisses her head, smooth like his. She ignores him, too caught up in supervising the training of her dolls.

Feyd-Rautha smiles. “Who is winning?” he asks.

One of the dolls headbutts the other. Their yarn-like hair swings around violently. It is hard to tell under the light of the black sun, but he thinks one of them is blonde. That one plops to the ground, landing in the sand.

Grisha raises the hand of the victorious doll the way she sees her father raise his in the arena. “This one,” she tells him.

“Well fought,” Feyd-Rautha says proudly. He bends down to pick up the doll and hands it to her. He watches her run her fingers through the doll’s hair, brushing the sand out of it with great care.

One day, his daughter will train alongside her brothers. She will have no need for hair then. It would just get in her way, and make her easier to grab by her opponents. She will see the use in this, and appreciate what makes her Harkonnen.

For now, Feyd-Rautha cups her head and kisses her again. He calls her his beautiful girl, and returns to the yard, picking up where he and the boys left off.

[ellecdc]

here for the drinks!! what are your thoughts about friends to lovers with barty? also, congratulations for the 4k xoxo 💘

thank you baby! and great thought. honestly, friends to lovers makes the most sense to me for this guy

I feel like Barty would have a hard time firstly with the idea of commitment at all, and also differentiating between platonic and romantic love, simply because he didn't experience a lot of love growing up (only child, abusive/neglectful parents)

he also sort of strikes me as the kind to resort to sexual intimacy when feelings of any kind occur just because he doesn't know what else to offer (I'm imagining a cliche emotionally constipated loose guy with daddy issues)

I feel like most of his friends have hooked up with him, which wouldn't be any different with you

and while Barty doesn't exactly like when his friends start dating/sleeping with other people (e.g., Regulus x James), and he does still feel some jealousy/insecurity at being replaced or needless, it has nothing on the pure unadulterated rage he feels when he sees you talking to/flirting with someone else

he always finds something wrong with whoever you're seeing, constantly picking fights with them, happens to show up when the two of you are sitting in the library or Great Hall together, etc

takes Reg & Evan actually walloping him up the side of the head to point out that he is completely in love with you

feelings are scary - tries to sleep with everyone else in the castle to get it out of his system

doesn't work and he's now left you unsupervised to that damned other wix he didn't bother to learn the name of

pines silently until you mention something bothering you about this new person

"Are you going to break up with them?" He asks as nonchalantly as he can manage - "we were never dating, Barty" - "thought you guys were in love" - you simply snort in response

"I tried." you admit after some silence - "is it something you have to try to do? to love?" he asks - "no, it's not." - "what was wrong with them? Why couldn't you love them?"

You stare at him for a long time and it takes everything in his being to hold your eye contact as you seem to come to some decision.

"They weren't you."

the two of you stare at each other a while longer before you eventually stand and head to your dorm

Barty shows up later that night - you're not sure how he didn't get caught or managed to make it up to your dorm at all but he's standing there at the door, breathless and eyes red rimmed before his lips crash into yours - and the kiss is unlike any that the two of you have shared before

"love me." He whispers breathlessly as he finally comes up for air, though he keeps your face close enough that his breaths cause your eyelashes to flutter

"I've been loving you, Barty, I can't- I can't keep doing this on my own."

"You're not, I'm here. I'm here. I love you."

and then you're kissing again and it's messy and it's desperate and it's perfect

:)

[hibiscusseaart]

huge ass post with MadaTobi Babies

its finally done, its almost 1 am, I started at 7 pm

OK SO HERE THEY ARE

So a little lore and then I'm gonna introduce them.

As you may remember from my earlier post, Tobirama (they married when he was 19) after the marriage, decided to create a child to tie Madara to him and the village stronger just in case Madara would try to leave the village. He couldn't destroy the village if there's his kid running around, right?

So Tobirama started learning biology pretty early in their marriage + Itama (@oh-no-its-bird 's one) helped a lot too. Mito helped with the seals to make an incubator. Tobirama didn't want a surrogate mother just because he was afraid that Madara would get attached to the mother of his children and he didn’t want that (plus he's jealous but doesn't realise it 🤭).

He created some sort of very real transformation jutsu that would trick his body to think that he has ovaries and he'd get the eggs that way! But he couldn't keep uterus and ect for 9 months, plus this jutsu is HARD to keep on for very long periods of time. It's easier to make a few organs from chakra that could produce real eggs than a whole new system. Plus Tobirama really didn't want to get pregnant and he wasn't sure he wouldn't fuck up his own body. Tobirama, with as gray morale as his, could just scrap failed embryo and start anew. He can't do that with his own body.

Anyway, incubator it is!

At first he did all of that in secret, stealing Madara's sperm (that's... a thing now) for his first experiments while they had sex. (Tobirama fucking Madara real hard that he’d pass out after and then take samples) ANYWAY

So he announced about his plans when the first stable and pretty healthy embryo was ready.

The first baby, Motoko! The melanin quee. She got all of it. Nothing left for her brother or sister. Ofc she's not THAT dark skinned, but she is for an Uchiha who are mostly white as a paper in canon.

(Tobirama is 21 for reference)

Her name literally means "Experiment seed first". Tobirama named this project this way for secrecy if someone would overhear his talks with Itama and Mito. It’d be Uchiha clan head’s child so hush-hush.

The name meanings + kanji! Hope I got them right, I have no japanese knowledge

oh and there is flirting with past and time in general in this name so it might be Tobirama reminiscing his first timeline. Like Motoko didn't even EXIST before.

So when he presented the embryo to Madara and Hashirama, they were ecstatic of course.

Madara almost cried. Hashirama became a river of tears.

Madara never really hoped for his own children since he married Tobirama cuz, well, they're both men. Doesn't really work that way. But Tobirama made it work and Madara is in love all over again.

Madara refuses to leave their future baby for a long time, just looking at them in the incubator. But the baby doesn’t need much there so Tobirama makes him leave and live a life while they’re waiting when the kid is ready.

Oh and Madara was SO against the name that basically means “experiment seed 1”. But when Tobirama asked if he got smth better, he ran away to his compound and tried to find the PERFECT names. He got lost in so many variations and never really decided. So when the kid was “born” (Tobirama just… took her out of the incubator*) and medics checked her, Madara took her in his hands, started crying and while he was having “A moment” Tobirama wrote her name as Motoko, cuz they needed it for administration and Uchiha clan.

*come to think about it, wouldn’t it fuck up a kid a bit? i mean, children develop under pressure of their mother’s organs and they’re in tight position. maybe test tube kids don’t really like to be wrapped in cloth? as i know ppl do that with newborns to imitate feelings like they’re in the womb.

But this name also can be read as “Festival child” so its kinda cute? Madara def told her that that’s exactly what her name means. No seed 1.

Interesting thing, when Tobirama made the baby, he thought he’d make a boy first, a heir. But something went wrong and the kid developed to be a girl. Tobirama was confused why. But technically, the kid is a boy with XY chromosomes but bc of their development and being a genetic experiment something went wrong and they developed as a female (its a real thing btw).

In the long run it didn’t really matter except that Motoko can’t have her own kids bc of all hormonal weirdness. And I don’t think that Tobirama would figure all of that out. He’d think he made some mistake when choosing gender, but kid was born healthy after all. Ofc when they found out that Motoko can’t have kids Tobirama will blame himself, that he ruined his daughter’s life. But she’s would be ok, she had her little siblings growing up and other clan kids so she’s done babysitting.

Okay for her personality! I think she’s kinda like Shisui? Very happy kid, spoiled rotten by her uncles (Hashirama and Izuna compete who is THE BEST uncle) and Tou-san (Madara). Btw Tobirama refuses to be called Kaa-san or any motherly terms. He’s barely holding a kunai in his pockets when Madara calls him wife.

But she’s also very Uchiha with temper and protectiveness. She was trained to be very much Uchiha cuz she’s the future clan head so her jutsu’s are strongly fire natured. Oh and her secondary nature is eath! She took it from the Senju side :)

Good sensor, but not as strong as her other siblings. Have really good chakra reserves and vicious on the battlefield.

Surprisingly looks really like Madara and Izuna’s mom. Her face is all that. Has soft dark hair and soft features. Considered to be very beautiful among Uchihas.

Oh and as you can see, I wrote that she has the Mangekyo. She got it when she was around 14. She was already really strong and cuz of her family, she got cocky. So, you ask me, who died? I think it’d be her female teammate (maybe from Hatake clan? idk I take suggestions) who she was in love with.

So yeah, she got a reality check. Because she got Mangekyo, Tobirama didn’t want her baby to lose her sight, so he improved his own seals that helped him with his albinism. Seals improve his sight and protect from the sun. So he drew Motoko tattoos on her face, like his. Years later it’d be a new feature of the main line.

But before that, when Motoko is 12 and Tobirama is 29, after 8 years of research (and possibly sealing/killing Black Zetsu in the meantime) he decided to try to make another kid. He still wanted a boy.

And he was successful. Meet Akemori! The Music King

The name was suggested by Hashirama. It means “red forest”. Red eyes, plus he sensed that the kid has a bit of mokuton!

But on the downside, Akemori was born an albino. Tobirama himself was really lucky, cuz he had a strong health and I hc that he still has healing abilities, but not as strong as Hashirama’s. But it still helped him in his childhood.

Not for Akemori tho. He was a sickly child, almost blind and burned on the sun easily. Tobirama had to put seals on him when he was about 3 years old. But even then his eyesight was still poor. Seals can’t fix everything.

Tobirama, once again, feels guilty that he didn’t notice any mistakes when he was creating the child.

And being born almost blind in Uchiha clan of all people wasn’t really nice. Though he is still clan head’s child and has a whole bunch of very powerful adults to protect him. Plus his older sister who loves him very much and wants to protect him from any harm.

But because of health issues Akemori was never really trained in shinobi arts. Well, he was trained (his fathers are literally… them) just that he could protect himself, but no one expected him to go on missions or even become a shinobi at all. Uchiha elders treated him as a potential political marriage pawn (even though Madara and Tobirama would never let them do that). Akemori caught on that and never had the motivation to become a shinobi at all. He was offended and said that he’d NEVER become a shinobi.

Madara was a little mad at that, cuz they’re SHINOBI clan, what the hell. But he shut up the second Tobirama sent him The Look. Tobirama was ok with Akemori’s wishes, like his twin and himself are shinobi by necessity, but they finds more joy in research.

Akemori was trained in Mokuton by Hashirama of course, even though Senju elders bitched about him selling clan secrets to Uchiha. But Hokage does what he wants.

Akemori’s mokuton isn’t as strong as Hashirama’s, plus he never really wanted to fight. But he was good with plants so he joined Itama-oji in his research a lot! Especially since Hashirama is busy with Hokage stuff, Itama was delighted to get a new helper.

Akemori is also a really good sensor because, like Tobirama, he had to compensate his bad eyesight. Basically, Akemori is a very Tobirama’s kid.

Surprisingly, he awakened the Sharingan! He was 6 and some foreign ninja (prob Kumo) thought it’d be cool to steal a kid with the Sharingan. Because of his naturally red eyes Akemori got stolen. Ofc when Tobirama felt his kid out of Konoha bonds, he sounded the alarm in the whole Uchiha clan to check on their kids whereabouts and was first to chase the kidnappers.

Kumo nin were killed by a very mad Tobirama and bc of the stress Akemori awakened the Sharingan. It wasn’t much of a use for him, since he’s not a shinobi. But at least Uchihas acknowledge him as a fellow Uchiha and not just Tobirama’s carbon copy.

(btw noone outside immediate family actually KNOWS where the kids coming from. They don't see any pregnant women in the main line house or anyone in the clan with the same time who gave birth these days. Tobirama himself or god forbid Madara aren't ever seen pregnant. Where the fuck kids are coming from? Do they just spawn in the house or what)

(they basically do spawn)

Sharingan helps Akemori to actually see! At least he could see something and could read. But stll, its not really strong, cuz not trained enough.

Basically Akemori is a perfect mix between Senju and Uchiha with Sharingan and Mokuton, but he was nerfed by albinism.

Being almost blind boy who can navigate only with his sensing, doesn’t gives him much hobbies. Ofc he helps Itama and he studies plants and medicine a lot with him, but he still needs a hobby. Books don’t work for him, any type of handicrafts too cuz he can’t just use Sharingan all the time, his head hurts and sometimes he doesn't want to remember a whole book perfectly. He’s also not very interested in training as a hobby.

So in his tweens while Itama and he were traveling (with Uchiha escort (prob Motoko) just in case) to the near town for some medicine and plants, he noticed (heard) a group of musicians and he fell in love.

Itama immediately bought him an instrument (maybe Biwa?).

And now the second son of Uchiha Madara became a musician! Isn’t it fun. Elders are furious.

Madara was baffled but “You do you, son. When you learn, show us? Oh and maybe you can copy someone else’s playing, but be discreet. They may not like that you’d try to copy their music. Shinobi don’t really like when we copy their jutsus too”

With age he learned to play several instruments (I take suggestions on which ones). Some people even thought that he’s trained to become geisha (he's not, he's just a pretty boy who plays music for fun).

When he grow old enough, Itama started to give him weed for inspiration and to relax. Akemori is prone to quiet anxiety attacks after he was kidnapped.

Okay, the final kid. She was born 4 years later after Akemori.

Nari! The pout queen

Madara finally got to name his kid. Her name means “Calm, harmonic village”. Yeah he decided to name his kid after a village. It's still better than Konohamaru

And she’s the final kid, because Tobirama finally got it and produced a “normal” healthy kid. Plus he's not sure how many kids (3) and students (another 4 and Kagami) he can actually handle.

She has very Uchiha coloring, but Tobirama’s facial features. She also inherited his stare.

She’s the baby of the family, but she grew up slightly strict and serious cuz she stayed a lot with Tobirama, cuz he decided he won’t spend another maternity leave out of the Tower. The first two times were a disaster when he came back.

Tobirama left on maternity leaves just cuz he needed to monitor his kids health, especially Akemori’s. Idk about Konoha maternity leaves, but they should be really short, since well shinobi are needed all year long and they can’t wait for mother-shinobi to spend a whole year on that. Though on the other side, mothers need time to recover or they won’t be able to perform good on their missions (plus they probably have a milk smell lol). Who knows, maybe Tobirama was the one who drafted a law about at least one year maternity leave. He got very popular among kunoichi (can you believe that I just remembered that this word exists)

Nari is really like Izuna, but got her temper under control. Maybe think of teen Kakashi but without dead fathers and angst. But also brat.

Her chakra is water nature and she has 0 affinity with fire. Still she did produce great fireball as their traditions dictated, even though it took her many trials and errors. After that she decided that she hates traditions like that. Got really rebellious in her teens, about 13 and even tried to challenge her sister (25) for the clan head position. She didn’t win ofc and was bitter about it.

Also because her sister and brother both have seals, she always dreamed of the same, cuz as a baby she thought that it’s something special for their family. But Tobirama doesn’t think she needs them cuz her sight is perfect and her skin is pale, but it doesn’t burn like Akemori’s.

It triggered interest for seals in general cuz “FINE if you won’t give me seals, I’ll just make them myself!”

Tobirama was completely okay with it. He always strives to encourage kids when they want to learn something new. So he sicked her at Mito. Though his aunt was quite happy to teach her niece sealing art.

also idk why i write evil near her. she's just a brat. though she has the potential to become Azula ish

And that’s it!

I will write more about them later cuz im tired. I have some other ideas I wanna expand. Like Tobirama introducing his pups to his Hatake aunt (did i tell you that i LOVE Hatakes?),

Oh and fun little sketches close ups for a treat

i love this Hashirama with the kids, ugh he's so father

if you have any questions you can send them to my ask box!

[foreverisntenough]

--------- My tiny one shot below for you 🤍

'Marshmallows*'

3.2k words | Trent Alexander-Arnold x Reader | Warning: Smut! MDNI

↳ You're watching a film in the cinema with your kids when your baby Tate asks for hot chocolate. Whilst looking for marshmallows in your pantry Trent joins you to help but more things happen than just finding the sweet.

Other ForeverIsntEnough One Shots

---------

It was one of those perfect winter nights where everything felt wrapped in a blanket of warmth, despite the biting chill outside. The cinema was dimly lit, the only light coming from the glow of the television and the flickering flames from the fireplace. The cozy crackle of the fire added to the comfort of the room, while the soft murmur of the movie kept everyone’s attention, each child lost in their own little world of blankets and pillows.

Teddy, just had turned seven years old, had nestled herself beside Marcel, giggling at something he whispered to her. They both looked so content, her little legs curled under her, Marcel leaned in as if he was her age, completely involved in whatever silly joke they shared. On the floor, Theo and Tyde were sprawled out, blankets half on, half off, their eyes glued to the screen. Tyde was almost falling asleep, his eyelids growing heavier by the minute, while Theo, as always, had a little extra energy, kicking his legs absentmindedly as he watched the movie.  Tate, your baby boy, was tucked into your lap, wrapped in the softness of your embrace and the thick blanket you had pulled over both of you. His freshly braided hair smelled sweet as you kissed the top of his head. He wiggled a little, getting comfortable, and then looked up at you with those big, doe eyes—the same ones his daddy had. 

"Mama… I have hot chocklate, pleabs?" he asked in the softest voice, his words gentle and full of that innocence only he could have. Before you could answer, Theo piped up from the floor, raising his hand like he was in school.

"Can I have some too, Mummy?" He asked, his eyes mirroring Trent’s just like Tates.  You chuckled softly, realizing you were now on the hook for not one but multiple cups of hot chocolate. You glanced around the room, sure enough, Teddy was giving you a hopeful look, her eyes just the same. Even Marcel, with a mischievous grin, was watching you with raised eyebrows, acting as if he was one of them. You shook your head in amusement.

"With mellows mama, pleabs." Tyde yawned rolling dramtically onto his side.

"I suppose I’m making hot chocolate for everyone, huh?" you said, laughing as you ran your hand over Tate’s hair gently. Trent, who had been watching you with that same soft smile he always wore when he looked at his family, sat up a little and turned to the room. 

"Okay, okay, everybody, what do we say?" His voice was playful but firm, encouraging a chorus of manners. In unison, all of your babies chimed in—Teddy, Theo, and even little Tyde who was starting to doze off—"Thank you, Mummy!" You let your eyes flutter closed appreciating the fact that your babies were using their manners. Marcel echoed a ‘Thank you, Mummy’ of his own in an exaggerated tone, causing the kids to burst out in giggles.

"Alright, alright," you said with a grin, untangling yourself gently from Tate’s little body as you prepared to get up. "Seven cups of hot chocolate it is." You rolled your eyes affectionately, feeling the warmth of their gratitude and the lightheartedness filling the room. But before you could full get up, Trent slid over from his spot on the sofa, taking your hand and pulling you back down gently, his eyes twinkling with that familiar playfulness. 

 "Let me help, beautiful. You’re not doing this all by yourself." He planted a quick kiss on your cheek after speaking. You shook your head rejecting him cupping his face and kissing his forehead before kissing Tates. When you had made it to the kitchen, you found yourself feeling a bit stuck as you searched the pantry for the marshmallows that were requested. As you began feeling more and more flustered that you couldn't find them, Trent quietly slipped in behind you. His presence was comforting as always, and when you turned to tell him you had it covered, your pout gave away how frustrated you really were. Trent saw right through it, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

"Can't find something, hmm?" he asked, his voice low, but there was a teasing glint in his eyes. As you rummaged through the pantry, searching for marshmallows that if you couldn’t find would without a doubt stir up questions from the four, no probably five kids back in the cinema. Trent’s voice sent a shiver down your spine as he leant casually against the pantry door, his frame filling the space with a seductive presence. His brown eyes sparkling with mischief, and a playful smile plays on his tanned, handsome face. You couldn’t help but feel a surge of desire as his intense gaze travels down your body, taking in your own figure.

"Just these pesky marshmallows," you replied with a sigh feigning a deeper frustration because at the moment you were mildly relishing the opportunity to spend some time alone with him. "Tyde asked and now they seem to have vanished into thin air. I swear, the marshmallows were here last week." You huffed playfully. He chuckled, stepping closer, and before you could protest, you heard the quiet click of the pantry door locking behind him. Your eyes widened in surprise, and you turned to face him fully. "T," you whispered, a laugh escaping your lips as you glanced at the door. "What are you doing?" You asked. It really was his plan to come and help but the way your body was stretched reaching up to shelves, the way your t shirt clung to your body, the whole thing was sexier than he anticipated. He didn't answer right away. Instead, he slid his arms around your waist and pulled you flush against him, his body warm, strong, and familiar. His eyes twinkled with that mischievous look that always made your heart race, even after all these years.

"You work too hard," he murmured, his lips brushing your forehead, sending a shiver down your spine. "Making hot chocolate for seven people... trying to keep everything perfect." His hands gently traced down to the small of your back, holding you close as his voice softened. "I just want to make sure you're okay, too." You smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of his embrace, but there was something more in his gaze tonight-something playful. He leaned down, his lips ghosting over yours in a way that made your heart skip a beat. His voice was lower now, huskier. "Maybe I can help you find those marshmallows..."

"Oh, is that what this is about?" you teased, but your hands instinctively found their way to his chest, your fingers lightly tracing the lines of his muscles. You laughed softly, shaking your head.

"Maybe," he whispered, his lips barely brushing against yours. Trent grinned, one hand sliding up your back, his fingers tangling in your hair. "Or maybe it's about making sure you know how much I love you." The pantry felt like a world away from the cozy chaos of the cinema as the moment between you deepened. For a second, you forgot about the hot chocolate, the kids, and the fact that you were in a pantry. Trent had a way of making everything else fade away when he looked at you like that. Your breath caught as he leaned in, finally closing the small gap between you, his lips capturing yours in a slow, lingering kiss. His touch was gentle, but there was an undeniable intensity in the way he held you, like he couldn't get enough. When he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his forehead rested against yours. “You're so amazing, you know that?" He whispered. You smiled, feeling your heart swell with love for this man.

 "I'm just trying to keep up," you said softly. He kissed you again, this time a little longer, a little deeper, making your knees weak. When he finally let go, his lips curled into that signature playful grin. 

"Well, I think I just found what you were looking for," he said, glancing behind you. You turned, expecting to see the marshmallows, but instead, your eyes landed on nothing. You glanced back at him, confused, but Trent's grin only widened. "Not the marshmallows, beautiful.” He clarified, pulling you back into his arms. "You." You laughed, swatting his chest playfully. 

“I’ll feel so bad if I can’t find them.” You pouted feeling defeated.  

“I might have a solution to make you feel better," Trent said, his voice dropping an octave, sending a delicious thrill through your body. With a swift movement, he stepped into you further, closing the distance between your bodies that had opened up. His hands gently cupped your cheeks, and he leant in again, his warm breath tickling your ear. "Let me take care of you, right here, right now." Your heart pounded in anticipation as Trent’s words send a rush of heat between your thighs. You'd always been a sucker for his cheeky charm and his insatiable appetite for pleasure. The idea of being taken by him in this very moment, in this intimate space, ignited a fire within you. Suddenly you found yourself in a rare moment of alone time and you were more than happy to take advantage of.

"Oh, really?" you manage to whisper, your voice hoarse with desire. "And what did you have in mind, T, baby?” You smirked. Trent’s hands slide down your neck, tracing the sensitive skin, making you shiver. 

"Something hot, just for us," he murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe, sending electric shocks through your body. "Something to make you forget all about those marshmallows." Without waiting for a response, he lifted your top, his warm hands gliding over your bare skin, cupping your heavy breasts, thumbs teasing your hardening nipples through the lace of your bra. "You feel so fucking good," he growls, his breath was hot on your neck as he kneaded and squeezed your sensitive flesh. "I love how responsive you still are to my touch, baby.” Trent cooed. 

"Please, T," you begged, your voice breathless. "I need more." You moaned softly, arching into his touch, your hands reaching back to grip his strong back, urging him closer. In response, he unhooked your bra with nimble fingers, freeing your tits. He bent down, taking a taut nipple into his warm mouth, sucking and teasing it with his tongue, while his hands continued to explore your body, stroking and caressing your sensitive skin. Trent turned you around, pressing your body against the pantry shelves, the various packages and boxes digging slightly into your front momentarily, adding a delicious pinch of pain to the growing pleasure.

"You're so wet f’me already," he whispered against your skin, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your joggers, stroking your moist folds through the thin fabric of your panties. "I can feel how much you want me. Have you been thinking about me, baby?” He mused.

"Yeah, baby, I need you. Miss you so much," you gasped, your head falling back against his shoulder as his skilled fingers found your aching clit, circling and rubbing it through the damp material. "I want you so bad. Please fuck me, right here, right now." He chuckled, the vibrations of his laughter against your skin sent shivers down your spine.

 "Whatever you want, whenever you want, I’m always yours.” He said, his voice thick with desire. With a swift motion, he pulled your joggers down your legs, along with your soaked panties, leaving you completely exposed to his hungry gaze. He stept back, taking in the sight of your naked body, his eyes dark with need. "God, my fucking wife is so fucking sexy," he rasped, his eyes roaming over your curves. "Absolutely fucking perfect." You felt a surge of confidence as his words fueled your desire. Reaching down, you grasped his hard length through his pants, stroking him through the fabric, making him hiss in pleasure.

"I want you inside me, T," you demanded, your voice confident and filled with lust. "Now, baby." You whined. Trent didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly shed his clothes, revealing his muscular body and straining erection. He positioned himself behind you, his hands gripping your hips, and in one smooth thrust, he filled you completely, his thick cock stretching you deliciously in the most pleasurable pain. You were dripping wet but you also had to make this marginally faster than you probably would’ve liked. You were meant to be making hot chocolate after all. Trent let out labored breaths and a chuckle placing his hand over your mouth as you cried out, overwhelmed by the sensation of Trent beginning to fuck into you. 

"Oh, fuck…" you mumbled into his palm, pushing back against him, taking him even deeper. Trent set a relentless pace, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drove into you, his balls slapping against your sensitive flesh with each powerful stroke. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the pantry, mingling with your muffled moans and cries of pleasure into his hand.

"You love this, don't you, baby?" he grunted, his breath hot on your neck as he pounded into you. "Always my dirty girl, taking my cock so well." He grunted, removing his hand from your lips sliding it to your front to tug on your nipple, making you shiver. 

"Yeah, Please, please, please.”  you chanted, your body on fire, every nerve ending singing with pleasure. "Harder, T, fuck me harder!" You begged him. You and Trent still got to have sex often but moments like this where you got to sneak around and feel like kids again were perfection and just flat out sexy. Trent oobliged, his hands tightening on your hips, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more primal. You could feel your orgasm building, a delicious pressure coiling low in your belly. "I'm gonna come, T!" you whined, your voice hoarse with need.

"Be a good girl f’me and cum on my cock baby."  Trent grunted letting his hand glide down your body, his fingers finding your swollen clit, rubbing it in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. The combination of his cock pounding into your pussy and his fingers working your clit pushed you over the edge. You cried out, your body convulsing around his shaft as you climaxed, your juices flowing freely, coating his cock with your essence. Trent followed you into the abyss, his own release building rapidly.

"Fuck, baby… gonna make me cum squeezing me like that. Ah… fuck I’m cumming, baby.” He moaned, his hips snapping forward one last time as he emptied his load deep inside you, filling you with his hot cum. Breathless and spent, you both lean against each other, your hearts racing and your bodies glistening with a slight sheen of sweat. Trent planted a tender kiss on your shoulder, his breath still ragged. "I think we found something much better than marshmallows, yeah?" he said, his voice filled with satisfaction and a sweet laugh.

"Much… Much… better, my T," you cooed, turning in his arms to kiss him deeply. "I'd choose this any day." You giggled, a contented glow spreading through your body. He wrapped his arms tighter around you, swaying you back and forth as he glanced around, finally spotting the marshmallows on a high shelf, out of your reach. He let go of you with one of his arms, reaching up to them easily, holding them out to you with a grin. 

"Told you l'd find them. Orgasm and marshmallows lucky you." He winked with a laugh that sent an ache through your heart. He was always perfect for you whether it was finding marshmallows for your babies or if it was making you cum on his cock, he was ever perfect. You rolled your eyes affectionately, grabbing the marshmallows.

“Lucky me.” You giggled. “You always are right, huh?” You smiled leaving the pantry. Trent leaned against the kitchen counter as you gathered the cocoa mix, milk, and mugs. He watched you with that familiar look, his admiration for you evident in the way his eyes followed your every move.

"You know," he said softly, "you make this whole mum thing look so sexy and effortless." He cooed watching you.

"Not at all, but I appreciate you saying it." You warmly smiled at him, shaking your head. He stepped closer, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind, pulling you close again.

"I mean it," he whispered into your ear. "I don’t know how you do it, but our kids adore you. I adore you." You leaned back into him, closing your eyes for a moment, feeling the strength of his embrace. 

"Well, I couldn’t do any of it without you." He kissed your temple softly before pulling away to help with the milk on the stove. The two of you worked in perfect rhythm, your years of partnership evident in how naturally you moved together. Soon, the rich scent of cocoa filled the kitchen, and you smiled, knowing how much your little ones would love it. As you both returned to the cinema your kids plus Marcel eagerly awaited their hot chocolates, unaware of the stolen moment you'd shared. 

“You took too long, Mummy,” Theo complained in a huff, making you laugh as you carefully handed out the mugs of hot chocolate, as he narrowed his eyes at you and grinned.  

“Sorry, Tio baby. I needed Daddy’s help.” You smiled apologetically, giving him a playful shrug. 

“Did you say thank you to Dada?” Teddy, never missing a beat, tilted her head thoughtfully and asked before flashing to Tate and Tyde. Her innocent eyes wide with curiosity but also a proud glint in them trying to make a point to her younger brothers.  Teddy really dove into her roll as the oldest and being a big sister. You bit your lip, holding back a smug grin. 

“I did,” you said, glancing at Trent with a knowing look. He smirked and, in that calm, easy way of his, picked Tate up from Teddy’s lap and settled him into his own arms.

“Mummy definitely did,” he added with a wink, causing you to stifle a giggle. Marcel, who had been observing the scene from the the side of the couch with Teddy, raised an eyebrow and made a dramatic face of mock disgust. 

“Who knew hot chocolate took half an hour,” he said, shaking his head, “I bet mummy and daddy can do a lot of things in half an hour.” He muttered out with a chuckle. Trent threw a pillow at him. You both laughed as you nestled back onto the couch next to Trent, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as you leaned into him. Tate immediately crawled back into your lap, his little arms wrapped around you. You helped Tate with his hot cocoa, blowing gently on the top to make sure it wasn’t too hot for him. Tate looked up at you with his big puppy dog eyes, and you kissed the top of his head, the warmth of the moment wrapping around you like the thickest, softest blanket. As Trent leaned over to kiss your cheek, you took the opportunity to whisper into his ear.

“I’ll say thank you again tonight.”  You cooed, your voice teasing and soft. His eyes darkened for just a second, his lips twitching into a smile.

 “I’ll hold you to that.” He whispered. The kids were oblivious, focused on their hot chocolate and the film continuing to play in the background, but you and Trent shared that quiet, intimate moment—connected, even in the midst of the joyful chaos around you.

⇨ Read other ForeverIsntEnough here!

[valerie-is-in-the-cupboard]

Am I the only one that thinks Alastor might like women with a fuller figure cause it's so different from what he was around in the 1930s? Like, I can just imagine him, as the skinny man he is, gravitating towards a curvier women.

Oh, honey, let me tell you—I am completely into this idea!!!

Warning!! small drabble ahead

I've always felt that Alastor has a bit of a soft spot for women, though filtered through his own strange moral compass. It might be because he's a certified mama's boy, but I do see this man adoring women.

But I also believe he's the kind of man to put personality over looks, rather than anything else. A woman with charm, elegance, class, and sharp wit? He's already drawn by this. Now that he's a demon, make her a bit dangerous too and he's all over her already.

Now, what if besides all these traits, said woman would be a bit curvier? Instant death for our deer boy. I think he'd totally be into someone who has something like a mother-type body because it gives off that warm, motherlike energy to him.

He'd especially love to see that body in outfits that accentuate every curve but leave a bit to the imagination. And if that outfit is a dress he personally bought for her, oh man he'd beg her to wear it every time the occasion arose.

"But my love, that party is quite important. Perhaps you should wear that lovely dress I bought you again." "But... I wore it last time too? I thought I might change it." "Why change perfection, darling? You were the talk of the evening, after all. Ah, but if you insist... I suppose I’ll have to spoil you with another one. One even more... irresistible."

I think a part of him would die every time she says something bad about her body because he honestly sees nothing wrong. Does she have some fat on her stomach? Lovely. She doesn't like her legs? Why? They look perfect wrapped around him.

And good God, the feeling of that soft, plush skin whenever he touches her? Divine.

And even if it would take him months to give in, he can't help but think how it would be to sleep wrapped in her arms, feeling like a small child again. He'd just think because it would be silly to express such feelings... But when he finally does... oh boy, he could die right there and he'd die happy.

[bullet-prooflove]

Love <3 Starters

"i know you think you’re all alone out there, but you’re not"

Mitch Ripley

Tagging: Tagging: @kmc1989 @spaghettificationandpretzels @mini-bee-bee @mandy426 @jareaulamontagnes

Seperation!Series:

Marley 2.0 - Mitch doesn't realise your hiding a secret from him.

Not Your Problem - Mitch feels you pulling away from him.

Pill Popping - Mitch confronts LJ about what happened in St Clair.

Not Enough - Mitch realises he won't ever be enough for you after you reveal what happened in St Clair.

Therapy Sessions - Mitch talks through his issues with his counsellor.

Hollow - Mitch returns home to an empty house.

Mitch finds you in the park you used to play in as a child. You’re sitting on the swing in a navy blue quilted jacket that used to belong to him, your hands holding onto the chains as it rocks to and fro in the breeze.

It’s the place you come to when your world’s in turmoil, somewhere with happy memories where nothing can harm you. You don’t say anything when he sits down on the swing alongside of you, you simply stare straight ahead at the duck pond as the drizzle soaks your hair.

“Your mom called.” He says breaking the silence. “She told me what happened today.”

Your jaw clenches as you inhale sharply and he realises in that moment that you’re trying not to cry.

“It was a rural hospital.” You say finally, using the back of your hand to wipe the teats from under your eyes. “They weren’t equipped for the kind of complications I was having.”

If you’d been in Chicago when you miscarried, the procedure probably would have been completed with minimal scarring. Instead you’d had a junior doctor who was undertaking his first D&C alone and fucked things up so badly that you’ve just discovered that you couldn’t have children, no matter how much you may want them.

“I’m sorry.” He says softly. “I know it feels like you’re alone right now but you’re not…”

You laugh then and the sound it cuts through him like a scalpel because it’s just so fucking bitter.

“I don’t have a husband Mitch. I don’t have a baby. I can’t even have a family anymore which is the reason we split up in the first place.” You remind him, your eyes filled with anguish as you tilt your head to look at him. “There’s just me right now, screaming into the fucking void because God has found every single way he can to fuck me.”

Mitch raises from his swing and crouches down in front of you. His hands encompass your chilled features, his thumbs chasing away the frustrated tears that leak down your cheeks.

“Marley, you have me.” He tells you fiercely. “You have me right here fighting in your corner, and I will always be here whether we’re together or not. None of this changes how I feel about you, none of this stops me from loving you as much as I do.”

“That’s easy for you to say now that children have been taken off the table.” You tell him. “I’m the perfect woman for you now aren’t I? The wife that can’t bear children. It’s exactly what you what you wanted.”

“No Marley, it’s not.” He promises you, his voice so fucking earnest it wounds you. “I want to start a family with you, I was just too scared of fucking of it up. I was letting my past mess with my head and I’m working through that but you have to know that I never wanted this, I never wanted any of this to happen to you.”

It’s raining harder now, the droplets soaking the two of you as Mitch’s forehead against yours.

“Take me home Mitch.” You whisper against his lips. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[atiianeishaunted]

just remembered i can rant on here yippee >///< have a rant abt takashi shirogane bc im that man's number 1 hater, this will be horribly written and disjointed bc i jus need 2 get this out of my very soul, im tweaking SO BAD, a conversation w red is not enuff.. im homophobic to this man and this man alone. tomato tomato tomato shiro

also im a certified keith apologist that boy does no wrong free him ...

can you imagine taking in a little orphan boy thats clearly craving stability and proceeding to utilize him as a tool/replacement for you to live vicariously through because you cant accept retiring fully despite health concerns EVERYONE is telling you to not ignore ....... ??? not to mention him abandoning keith the first chance he gets even though he knows full well keith has literally nothing besides him (i find it hard to believe he wasnt aware of the unfair treatment keith was going through) (also side note, abandoning adam was also crazy..... adam shouldve lived jus so shiro would have to face the consquences but yk) (free adam he did nothing WRONG) (someone write a fic where adam lives n confronts shiro im begging)

also does anyone else find it suspicious that keith never mentions adam and vice versa, same w matt/pidge, shiro is shown to be very close to the holts (side note, if you ship shiro x matt DNI, that boy is a CHILD), so shiro was just hiding the fact he adopted a whole kid... insane behavior? methinks? also on that mentioning the holts, he treats them way better than he does the child he ADOPTED, constantly prioritizes them and treats them liek actual family. red worded it best when he said that shiro views the holt as family n keith is just a recruit to him ,,, punching the AIRR

shiro not once ever shows unconditional care towards keith, i know people will argue with that but like just think about it, everytime he shows some sort of care or concern towards the kid its usually followed up by it benefiting him, the constant "you cant run off / you cant die / etc etc. because you need to carry on my legacy" ???!??/.1/1/ hate that!

keith sees shiro as his savior essentially liek a god who can do no wrong, we constantly see this by the way he talks about the man and how far hes willing to go for him while shiro holds him at arm's length and constantly neglects him?!?!? idk why everyone jus treated that as cute ????? shiro is a horrible guardian to keith man ,, he encourages destructive behaviors and keith's insecurities purely bc it benefits him !!!!! straigfht up grooming the kid into being the perfect soldier/student/you get the point for the garrison

i coudl rant for hours and hours abt this but liek im genuinely so mad my brain is blank,, extreme hater hours, might add onto this hashtag later everytime i get mad about him, again this is a mess, you will prolly hear this rant a million times over from me, slightly more well constructed next time hopefully,,,,,,

[madhatterbri]

Objection | M.J.

Summary: Reader is about to marry another guy, but Matt objects and expresses why the reader shouldn’t marry the guy. I was thinking something sweet with a little spice? ☺️

Author's Note: Happy Dynamite Wednesday, babes. <3 A Nick Jackson one should be up next week. ❤️

Requested by anonymous

Matt Jackson Masterlist

Taglist: @smallestsnarkestgirl @theworldofotps @bullet-clubs-bitch @magicalbuttertarts

"Here she is," the bride's mother sung happily. The proud mother was filled with so much emotion. There was so much cause for celebration. Her only child was getting married to a stable man. One that would come home to her daughter every day. Not some wrestler that would cheat and do Lord knows what on the road.

Y/N walked into the room. She held the bottom of her dress so the dress wouldn't slide against the floor. Her mom, maid of honor, and bridesmaids gasped at her appearance. She made her way through the group. They told her how pretty she was.

The bride stared at herself in three full body-length mirrors. A small, fake smile was plastered on her face. Her hair was tied in a bun. Makeup caked her face. Her wedding dress was a beautiful pearl colored.

"Everything is absolutely perfect," her mother gushed and clapped her hands together. "My baby is so happy she can't even speak,"

Y/N smiled weakly in response. She wasn't a happy bride, but a miserable one. The wedding was everything she wanted, but the man waiting for her at the end of the aisle was not. Her heart weighed heavy at the fact that the man down the aisle wasn't Matt Jackson.

One of her cousins looked at their watch. She announced to the group that the wedding was in five minutes and they needed to get to their places. Everyone filed out of the room except her maid of honor. She assured the wedding party she'll be right out. The door closed behind party.

The maid of honor crossed her arms over her chest. She stood by the bride.

"You aren't happy," she spoke bluntly.

The air in the room suddenly felt heavier. Y/N had trouble breathing, and she wasn't sure if it was the tension in the room or the corset.

"My own mother can't even tell my misery," Y/N spoke with a soft chuckle. "Is it that obvious?"

"We have been friends since we were children. I can tell when you are lying. What's wrong?"

"I shouldn't tell you. It's my wedding. I'm happy,"

"Just tell me,"

"What good would it do me? I messaged Matt last night. I told him if I shouldn't get married today to speak now. He ignored it. Happy?" Y/N spoke angrily. Tears started to form in her eyes. A weak sob slipped past her lips.

"Y/N, I-"

"There is nothing we can do. This isn't some wrestling botch that we can fix the next time. This is it. I am going to marry someone that isn't Matt," she swallowed down another sob. "He didn't want me,"

"There has to be something we could do," her maid of honor interjected. "Maybe he was busy and didn't see the message."

"There is nothing we need to do. I just have to smile, walk down the aisle, and say I do,"

A knock on the door ceased all the conversation between the two women. Y/N called for the visitor to come in. One of the bridesmaids opened the door and poked her head in.

"The wedding is starting,"

"Great, thank you," Y/N spoke.

Y/N walked towards the door. Her maid of honor sighed loudly in annoyance, yet followed her. One by one, the bridal party left to take their appropriate places down the aisle. The bride waited impatiently for her turn. She stared at the bouquet of flowers. A mixture of different colors stared back at her.

The traditional wedding song started to play. The pianist worked his magic on the keys. Y/N took the cue and walked down to the double doors of the church. The doors opened before her. The guests stood and watched her.

While walking down the aisle, her soon to be husband came into view. He wore a simple tuxedo. His mother removed her glasses and wiped away the tears from streaming down her face. A pang of guilt washed through her. Y/N stood across from her fiance.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to...," The pastor started the wedding. Y/N's mind started to drift. Her thoughts swirled around Matt. The brunette wrestler that stole her heart the first night they met. She remembered all the hot summer nights in Maui.

"Y/N," her fiance whispered between them. He was now facing the priest. The now embarrassed bride muttered an apology and faced the pastor. He seemed annoyed at the lack of her paying attention yet kept it to himself.

"And do you, Y/N, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband until death do you part?" The minister asked.

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her hope was fading that she would ever be with Matt again. All the moments they had together would be a distant memory. She looked over her shoulder at the double doors. They were still closed. She turned to the minister sadly.

"He isn't coming. This is what he wanted," her mind repeated.

"I-I,"

The double doors of the church suddenly burst open. Some of the guests jumped in surprise while others yelled from the sudden noise. Y/N and her fiance turned to see the disruptor of their wedding.

A man with his hair in a ponytail walked in. He wore a white suit and walked with confidence.

"Matt, what are you doing at my daughter's wedding?" Her mother asked. Her voice was practically screeching.

"I object,"

The audience gasped and turned to the other. Harsh whispers filled the pews. Her mother's mouth opened and closed like a fish. Y/N walked away from her betrothed.

"You can't be serious! He's a wrestler. Who will take care of you when he finds another in some other city?" Her mother asked. Y/N ignored her. She dropped the flowers on the floor. Her heart pounded as she rushed to him. Matt opened his arms and hugged her. She wrapped her arms around his neck. His scent danced with her nose.

"You didn't message me back. I didn't think you'd come," she commented still in disbelief. His hands rubbed her cheeks softly. Her eyes closed as she prayed this wasn't a dream. When her eyes opened once more he was still in front of her.

"I still love you, Y/N. We may not be perfect, but I would do anything for you. I won't be home all the time, but I'll never stop loving you," he confessed. Tears sprung to her eyes. Y/N leaned in and kissed him. Her fingers ran down his cheeks to his neck. The audience gasped. They pulled apart upon remembering they weren't alone. "We should go,"

"Yeah," Y/N agreed. He grabbed her hand and rushed her out of the church. Nick was waiting in a car for them. He drove since Matt was such a nervous wreck. The runaway bride sat in the backseat with Matt. Their lips locked together as they made up for lost time.

Nick looked in the rear view mirror and groaned. "Not this again,"

[dreamofjoys]

IKEMEN PRINCE ♡ Break up prank

— Synopsis: You decided to pull a break up prank on your lover. How will they take it?

— Characters involved: Chevalier Michel, Gilbert Von Obsidian

— C/W: French kissing(tongue to tongue), sulky Chev, Gil threatening to wage war as a prank (or maybe not), they may come across as yandere but that’s not intended (just possessive)

You thought that it would be funny to try the break up prank with Chevalier and watch how he will react to it

“Chevalier….. lets break up”

Silence

The brutal beast continues sit on his usual place in the gazebo at the rose garden while reading his book. He didn’t even look at you, almost as if you weren’t there

“Uhm…Chevalier…?”

You took a seat next to your lover, waving your hand in front of him to get his attention

Chevalier did not react to your antics at all

Instead, he snapped the book shut and placed it aside

The next thing that you knew, Chevalier had grabbed you and placed you on his lap

His arms were encircled around your waist, hugging you tight to his body

“Chevalier, what’s going on?”

Still no response from him, but the grip he has on you tightened

“Hehhhhhh…. Are you sulking because I said that I would break up with you?” You grinned cheekily and wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling ecstatic at Chevalier’s reaction

Chevalier look away and let out a small hmph, still not responding

“Don’t sulk okay? It’s just a small prank.” You peppered his face with kisses, knowing that he loves being rained with kisses from you

When you kissed on his lips, Chevalier suddenly pinch on your waist, causing you to yelp in response

He quickly slip his tongue into your mouth, eager to explore every inch of it

By the time he was satisfied with the kiss, he pulled away and smirked at the sight of you panting

“I don’t see how you can break up with me, when you can’t even escape from my grip and attack.”

“Gilbert, let’s break up”

You stood in front of your lover, trying to muster up all the courage to stare back at his blood red eyes

You just wanted to know how Gilbert would react to this prank. Will he throw a fit? Will he start crying? Will he get mad?

Instead of being angry, Gilbert’s smile widened (:D)

“Little rabbit, I have something to show you.” Gilbert grabbed your hand and brought you back to his room

Something is wrong. Although this is a prank — a part of you knows that he might know too — He looks too calm and happy in this situation…

“Here, read this.” Your lover passed you a stack of documents while you eyed his suspiciously, wondering what is it

The title of the document is “Plan to Invade Rhodolite”

?????!!!!!!??????

“Ahhhh I’m so sad, my lover doesn’t love me anymore.”

“Wai-wait! Gil!”

“I have been working on this for awhile now. And right now, it seems like the perfect time to execute this plan. This project is going to be a big success, I can feel it.”

“It’s a prank!”

“If only the little rabbit showed me more love… then I wouldn’t have to resort to this.”

Finally deciding that he wasn’t going to listen to you, you flung yourself onto his body and hug him tightly

“Gil, I’m not letting you out of this room.”

“Ehhhh, I thought you want to break up with me?”

“N-no, I meant it as a joke! I still love you, Gil.”

“Really, how much do you love me?” Gilbert raised his eyebrow at you, eager to know what your response is

“I love you so much that I want to be glued to your side forever.”

“Really? Let’s do that then.” The smile on Gilbert’s face is so wide that he resembles a happy child who just received a christmas present

You thought that Gilbert was just pranking you back about glueing you to his side forever, but he ended up inventing a new type of glue a few days later

“Here little rabbit, let’s glue us together. What do you mean no? You love me right? We shall never be apart from each other.”

[daddiel-ish]

"Who's gonna save you this time, Corazón?"

In my Au, I see Doflamingo being obsessed with Law. She is his perfect little soldier, and Rosinante took her away from him, so he had to be punished for that. Nobody takes Doflamingo things. But now Corazón is finally back home, with a precious child to help the family grow. His precious Law is always full of surprises. Everything is how it's supposed to be and the Family is again back together.

Dressrosa Is my favorite arc and Doflamingo is one of my favorite characters (cough cough). I think I'm gonna draw more pages set in Dressrosa.

So 1/??????

[miserymerci]

Fluffy February Day 11: Quest - The Monkey King and The Monkey

Fandom: Lego Monkie Kid

Characters: Sun Wukong, Nezha, Jade Emperor, MK

(Lots of mentions of MK but actually pops up near the end, Sunburst Duo, Harbinger of Chaos MK, Alternate universe)

Word count: 4971

Summary: (TW: mentions of execution of a child) Takes place after the Samadhi Fire was separated from Red Son. In an alternate universe, Sun Wukong is summoned by the Jade Emperor, who gives him one final task: Wukong is to kill the Harbinger of Chaos before he can lay waste to Heaven— and the rest of the universe. But this has to be a mistake. The Harbinger of Chaos is just a little kid. Wukong’s next decision would be a lot easier if he didn’t want the Harbinger dead, too. (Inspired by The Horse and the Infant animatic)

Wispy indigo reached across the sky; rich, deep, and stunningly royal amongst the full galaxy beyond it. The stars glittered and winked, as if the world’s problems were only a fleeting thing to them. The night slept along. It would have been difficult for it not to, Wukong realized, since the sky in itself seemed to be a lullaby.

He could call it a painting. It had that look after all; like it had been touched up to perfection; like the splattered stars randomly lined up right where they were supposed to be. But Wukong didn’t consider himself an artist. So, then, would it really matter if he thought the night was beautiful or not?

What a strange thing to think. He should be rewarding himself with a good night’s sleep. Instead, here he was mulling over creation. Ridiculous. 

“Wukong, I know I’ve already said this, but thank you,” came a familiar voice.

Wukong snorted to himself and turned to smile at his ex-sworn brother.

“I don’t mind the thanks– this’ll be the only time I get to see this side of you, so I’m enjoying it the best I can– but you were just about ready to go for my throat a few hours ago,” he said.

The Demon Bull King’s sincerity wavered at the tease, but he had always been an honorable opponent. He shook his head to keep the annoyance at bay and titled his broad nose up at the stars.

“This was important to me. Meeting Lady Iron Fan felt like my new beginning– if you’re going to make that face, look at me when you do it. I know you’re a hopeless romantic, simian. Hmph. As I was saying… meeting Lady Iron Fan felt like my new beginning. And now I’m here with it laying in my palms, and I don’t want to hang on too tight or cradle it too carelessly,” said the Demon Bull King. “I want to be tactical with every step I take. The possibility of losing Red Son to the Samadhi Fire… it was… not an ideal thought. I had worried you weren’t taking it as seriously as I was.”

The Mystic Mountain did have a view Wukong could appreciate (when they weren’t in the middle of sealing an inextinguishable fire). But the colorfulness of it all quickly became sorrowfully bland. Wukong frowned at the twisted feeling and eyed the Demon Bull King. He had turned away to somewhere Wukong couldn’t see.

Wukong imagined it would have been where Lady Iron Fan, their son, and the others had spread out their own camps. With the journey too far and the extraction of the Fire too exhausting, it had been a practical decision to stay the night. Even Nezha had stayed; not by any other compelling force other than being a good sport to those who couldn’t simply bounce off to heaven.

The Demon Bull King’s eyes glinted with the surrounding stars. The look on his face was soft, like an old dog born on the streets. 

Wukong remembered distant times where the young Demon Bull King had been eager to crush bones on the battlefield; where he had dreamed of only power and control; when family had been something the Demon Bull King had laughed at. 

He turned away.

“Look at you, being a sap. It’s an… interesting look on you.”

“It’s hardly something I want you getting used to,” the Demon Bull King snapped. “In the morning, we will part ways and carry on with our existences. I have respect for you tonight. But what I do tomorrow and the days after will be separate from your shenanigans.”

Wukong could say a few different things to that. ‘When did things change?’, for one. ‘I can’t understand how you feel’, for another.

“Well said.” he settled on. He picked at a furry knot that had formed on his wrist and then groaned. “It’s not like I’d find any joy being in your inner circle. You’d drive me crazy with your incompetence to boil pasta.”

The Demon Bull King huffed and then grumbled.

“Sorry, what was that?” nudged Wukong.

“It was one time!” 

Wukong’s fur bristled at the tone, but grinned knowingly. This was familiar territory. He was very good at dancing this dance. 

“You boiled it twice as long as we told you to.”

“We put in double the pasta! It should have been double the time!”

“It doesn’t work that way! If you put the pasta into boiling water at the same time–”

“No! That doesn’t make sense. If you cook a thick slice of meat and a thin slice of meat, the thicker slice is going to need more time–”

“–because the heat is spread out! It’s not touching the outside and the inside at the same time.”

The Demon Bull King snorted, glanced back at his family with clenched fists, and then shook them in Wukong’s general direction.

“It is,” he said.

“Okay, it is but the pasta is like a million thin slices of meat so–”

“–it equals one thick slice of meat.”

“It’s admirable that you’re willing to die on this hill even though you’re wrong,” said Wukong smilingly. 

“You irk me with your breathing.”

The Demon Bull King had obviously chewed more than he could swallow. He didn’t enjoy lengthy conversation to begin with, and had only prepared himself to say thank you and promptly scatter. The more Wukong went off-script, the more frustrated the Demon Bull King would become. 

That was one thing that hadn’t changed about him. Wukong hid a fond smile at the thought.

He coiled and uncoiled his tail, sighed quietly, and then said, “I think I’m getting a little tired,” even though he wasn’t.

“Me too,” agreed the Demon Bull King, even though he wasn’t. 

And that was it for the night– maybe even the rest of Wukong’s life. There would likely be no other times like this; a group of these warriors united under the stars; because the “battle” had already ended, and the rest of their lives readily laid in wait. Could he return to Flower Fruit Mountain and get fat off fruit for the rest of his life? It was what he had wanted, before. But the times had changed, and the desires had changed, and the people had changed… 

But he was alone before he could find the words.

‘And that was just it, was it?’ he thought, watching the Demon Bull King return to Lady Iron Fan’s side with certainty. Things were moving before he was ready. He couldn’t pick up the pieces and place them back like pawns. “Forever” was much too long of a time for him to protect.

The last thought twisted in his belly. It squirmed, hissed, and Wukong suddenly felt sick with anger.

“…The sun, the sun,” Wukong murmured through his clenched teeth. He took a peek at the lazing moon and lashed his tail. “You bring us colorful light. You beautify the lovely flower of our soul.” 

Wukong had believed it to be a lousy lullaby when his Master had taught him it. Tripitaka hummed it to himself first, caught the attention of a curious monkey, and sneakily recited the tune to his hyperactive pupil. Now, Wukong glanced at his sleeping form next to Ao Lie and passed quietly.

“Today we grow under the sunlight,” he mumbled, raising his hands and finding his cloud had obediently appeared at his side. Something twinkled on its surface. Maybe stars, maybe just a trick in the moonlight. He blinked the illusion away and settled into the cloud’s weightless surface.

“Tomorrow we will create a colorful world.”

The sky continued to spin.

“Wukong.”

Wukong’s eyes flung open. He shot frantically to his knees, felt the cloud disperse below him, and in the space between him and solid ground, his tail lashed out and sprung him back to his feet.

Nezha’s serious expression didn’t budge. 

“Come on,” said Wukong, “I still got it.”

“Not if you’re letting anyone sneak up on you like that in your sleep,” replied Nezha, helpfully. He gestured his spear behind Wukong, urging him to look.

Ao Lie smiled a cat-like smile behind him and waved. He looked a little pale and might have been sweating more than usual, but nothing to call for concern. Beside him, Sha Wujing sipped what was probably tea from his chipped little cup. Wukong nodded politely at them. 

On the other side of the site, the Demon Bull family had already left– no goodbyes were exchanged, only an air of respect– and Wukong’s twisting belly threatened to rear its ugly head again. The morning was still pink and yellow, young and new. It didn’t surprise Wukong that two warriors had woken up bright and early for the trek ahead.

“What’s wrong?” asked Wukong. 

Nezha glanced back at the two pilgrims, then lifted his brows. “Private business, meant to be discussed privately.”

Wukong sniffled, but Nezha’s facade left little wiggle room; the poor prince’s fingers tapped anxiously against the shaft of his spear, hidden to the untrained eye, obvious to the Great Sage. Something was brewing behind the scenes. If it had anything to do with Nezha, then it had something to do with Heaven. 

“Go ahead,” said Lie, snapping Wukong out of his thoughts. He smiled at him brightly. “We’re only waiting for the Master… err– Sannnzanggg– to wake up. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I left without saying goodbye, but it was a pleasure seeing you again, Wukong.”

“And Bajie,” added Wujing. The fins along his jaw fluttered as he took another long drink of his hot tea. “He hasn’t woken up yet.” 

Lie huffed humorously, probably thinking over the previous day. He blinked at the snoring pig and then said, “yes, well, but it’s not like he did anything but stare the entire ritual.”

Nezha narrowed his eyes expectantly at Wukong and clenched his weapon. 

“Right, then,” said Wukong, “tell the Master my goodbyes for me. ”

Briskly, Nezha turned and began to stride away from the group.

“Wow! Impatient today, huh?” called Wukong. He picked up into a jog to catch up and slipped in front of Nezha, beginning to walk backwards. “I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of the pilgrims, but I think you woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Missing your holy, phoenix down-stuffed mattress in Heaven? How’re your joints? Stiff?” 

Nezha wrinkled his nose (likely in warning) before finally stopping just underneath a jutted-out slab of stone; a defect in the site’s structure, perfect for a top-secret discussion.

Wukong tilted his head. 

Usually, Nezha was straight to the point. He knew his duties and he knew how to do them, but something had shifted in the air– and Wukong’s worry shifted with it. 

“Something must really be wrong if you look so… dejected. Cheer up, Nezha! It’s not like the world is ending,” he said. 

“The universe is ending.”

“Hhhphhh… rough night?”

Nezha finally ripped his gaze from the stone behind Wukong and glared.

“Yes, actually. Can you stop being a fool for a moment? As you can probably tell, there’s a lot to say about this, and I’m trying to… find the right words.”

“Right,” said Wukong, “then let me help you out. I have a hunch that Heaven needs help from their old buddy the Monkey King to hunt a scary monster threatening to tear down the heavens. How’s that sound?” 

“It’s more than that,” insisted Nezha coldly. He hung his head, sighed, and then steeled himself. “You’re infuriating, Sun Wukong. The only reason I’m before you right now is by orders from the Emperor. I respect you for your friendship with the Great Monk, but I advise you not to test your luck.”

The dawn shimmered against Nezha’s spear as it rocked back and forth from his fidgeting. Just beyond its point, Lie hovered over Sanzang just as he had when the Great Monk was still under their protection. Old habits die hard. Wukong understood the rigid behavior of Nezha when faced with duty and pride.

“I thought I had already served the sentence Heaven gave me.”

“This isn’t a sentence. You are an ally of Heaven,” Wukong made a face at that, and Nezha continued sterner, “and that means that the Jade Emperor may summon you as he pleases. What he may do if you do not answer his call remains to be unseen.”

Now that Wukong thought about it, maybe he shouldn’t have been so quick to reminisce over retired warriors. A threat to the universe simply meant another round for the Great Sage. He wouldn’t have to return to Flower Fruit Mountain just yet.

Wukong leaned back on the stone, twirled his trusty tail, then smiled.

“Fine. I’ll take the bite.”

The perfect, crisp air filled Wukong’s lungs and lingered like smoke.

“We have the enemy contained deep in the palace,” one of the guards was saying, probably someone of high-importance, but not high enough to matter, “where the Emperor will be waiting for you.”

“Seems like extra effort to bring me in if you’ve already got the guy,” said Wukong. He sniffled, caught wind of unripe peaches, and rubbed at his nose. 

Heaven never changed much. The scents were the same, the lights were the same, and even the tiniest of pests couldn’t wiggle their way through security. If anything, the number of guards out in the garden seemed to have doubled the last time he was here. 

Wukong smirked and titled his head up.

“While we have the source of the problem, the universe’s destruction has already been set into motion. The Emperor believes that our captive is our only way of discovering how to place everything back the way it was.”

The marble steps of the palace tapped under Wukong’s feet. His eyes peeked down to catch sight of any blemishes on the floor; smudges, cracks, anything out of place really; and only found his reflection.

Really? Were the floors that shiny? What overkill.

“If I’m not supposed to be finding this universe-destroying demon, then what am I supposed to be doing?”

His escort hesitated. He looked up at the heavens for assistance, fixed his helmet, and then continued with a brisk shrug, “uh, not my department. Sorry, sir. Please just follow me.”

Wukong rolled his eyes.

Heaven had plenty of secrets, but only few could really keep their mouths shut about it. Maybe he should have been more on-guard about the whole thing. This could have been a trap to imprison him, or an ambush behind the Emperor’s back. But that didn’t make sense. Nezha might be a strike to the shin, but Wukong didn’t think him to be deceitful.

The air went chilly the further down they went. Something like fog began to build, dewy on Wukong’s fur and itchy between his chest and armor. Marbled flooring twisted to stone; first neatly placed in a silly little flowered pattern, then turning chipped and askew. 

He stepped over a particularly deep hole between two old stones. For a moment, he wondered if the flash of scuttling legs in the crevice were real or just his imagination– but then the smell of mold and dust washed over him.

“What a cruel place to keep your prisoners,” said Wukong, quietly. He blinked at the rows of torches and let the raspberry hues guide his eyes. 

The guard hummed. Maybe he was still flustered about his close-fumble earlier, because he wasn’t making eye contact anymore. 

They passed through the hall. The cells enclosed them from both sides.

“Only the worst of the worst are here,” said the guard. “The ones who have tried to bring down the Jade Emperor directly receive very long sentences. Not all of them live to see the end of it.”

Wukong eyed what looked like splintered bones between some bars. Then, he smiled.

“Ran out of mountains to use?” he asked.

The guard nervously cleared his throat.

Very little signs of life remained in this deep, forgotten prison. The spiders here would die from empty webs. The bones of past sentences were picked clean and likely crumbly to the touch. Only one other being lurked the cells, far against the corner, just before they reached the arch at the end of the hall.

A demon with bright, orange eyes grinned at him in the darkness.

Wukong slowed. He looked over long fangs and slithering hair. With a blink, he quickly caught up to his escort.

“Go in,” said the guard before Wukong could ask about the strange demon, gesturing to the entryway. He shifted his feet. He looked a little like a board; maybe a penguin; antsy and tense in the newest shift in the air. With a deep breath, he announced into the doorway, “Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven!” 

Something rumbled. Fog blew out like a breath and swayed Wukong and the guard.

Wukong frowned, gave the guard a parting glance, and entered.

Wukong enjoyed biting more than he could chew. Not only was it a fun challenge, but the risk kept his muscles used, his mind spry, and his heart young. It was like eating peppers for the spice and suffering the kick afterwards. Wukong could risk it, because Wukong always survived, and death could never claim him.

Despite that, Wukong wouldn’t say he was “getting old”. It was honestly more of being “forever young”. The Great Sage couldn’t just retire. Retiring was for old people and fighting dogs– but he supposed that if he said that, it would mean that the Jade Emperor would have to retire. And soon.

Wukong looked over the blue-purple ombre cuts that were splitting at the seams against an undefeatable entity and instinctively stepped back.

“What happened to you?” he blurted, and then promptly nipped that disrespect in the bud. “Uhhh– errr– hi.”

The cuts– Wukong noticed stars shimmering in them, almost like a galaxy– warbled and sang like a winding clock.

“Hello, Monkey,” replied the Emperor. He said it almost like he was spitting it out, but Wukong tried not to take it personally. There could have been a number of reasons right now why he was being snippy. 

The great force neared from the opposite side of the room. The fog, chilly to the bone, twisted in the space between.

“Hi,” said Wukong again. He blinked and cleared his throat. “So, what’s the problem?” 

“You are here because Heaven needs your personal experience to help get rid of our prisoner.”

“Get rid of?” echoed Wukong.

“It can’t be killed,” said the Emperor, and Wukong’s eyes gleamed, “not in the normal sense. Yet it is too destructive to be imprisoned. Our only choice is to have it eradicated. As an ‘immortal’ yourself, you would know a thing or two about finding the loopholes in such matters.”

Wukong cocked his head and considered that. Killing an immortal? Just about everyone in Heaven was immortal. He had tried once, failed, and paid the price for it. And then he went on an entire quest to learn how to not kill people. 

But this prisoner– this immortal– was immortal in a way that even Heaven couldn’t decipher it, much like how they couldn’t decipher Wukong’s layers of immortality. Except this immortal was… worse? Worse enough, at least, to not risk even the five-hundred-years-under-a-mountain punishment. 

“What have they done?” he asked.

“Their existence is what threatens the universe.”

‘That doesn’t make any sense. Can you stop beating around the bush and tell me what’s really the problem?’ Wukong wanted to say, but the Emperor was brief for a reason, answering only what Wukong asked, and leaving the unknown unknown. Wukong needed to be clever if he wanted the full story.

“Like a harbinger?” 

The Emperor tilted his chin up and said, “what an interesting choice of words. Yes, I like that. It’s a harbinger.”

“What of?”

“Chaos, I presume.”

“You don’t know?”

“I know better than you will.”

“Who sent it?”

“The Goddess Nüwa.”

That startled Wukong’s train of thought. He cringed, shook his head, and settled his hands on his hips.

“The Goddess of creation? She made humanity and now she wants to destroy it?”

“You fail to understand me, Monkey. My problem is not with Nüwa, it’s with her rebellious children. Will you lend me your aid or not?”

This was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. The last thing Wukong wanted to be was a pawn for something he didn’t understand. The Master had urged him to think before he got too cocky in combat, and boy was Wukong thinking now– thinking about how much he was likely missing from this narrative. 

‘The sun, the sun’, Wukong thought.

A deep grumble started in the Emperor’s throat, almost debating with itself. Wukong perked up, interested, but tried not to show it.

“I do hope you know,” said the Emperor, “that the Harbinger threatens all life– all existence– including yours.”  

“…I doubt it,” said Wukong. He blinked– because his reply had blurted out of his mouth without much thought– before adding, “What I mean is that I can survive without food, without water, without air, and no blade can ever fatally puncture me. I can’t die; no name in The Book to change that.”

The Emperor quirked a large brow, then asked, “Do you think you’re exempt from the ‘entire universe’?” 

Oh.

Well, maybe not, since Wukong lived in this universe. But he’s always been exempt before. The thought of something Wukong had never even met ending not only everyone else’s existence, but his as well? Come on.

…right?

Granted, he shouldn’t make it all about himself. His mind wandered to the other pilgrims, who didn’t have the mercy of a long life that Wukong (thought) he had. Then, he thought of his old brothers, and found that that had only been a drop of poison for his growing doubts.

This could have been a trick. The Emperor may have just wanted to use him. Something cold traveled up Wukong’s arm– likely the cool fog catching up to him– and his mind turned to the only thing he could think straight on.

Nothing could kill Sun Wukong.

The Staff chimed and twinkled. It extended from his ear and dropped familiarly into his hand. 

“Where is it?” he asked.

The Jade Emperor’s face didn’t twitch. Part of Wukong had expected a look of triumph, or a twitch in his resolve, but that didn’t happen. The Emperor took two or three long strides (or floated, Wukong couldn’t tell), lifted his cape, and swooped it where he stood. In its fluttering wake, a cradle of leaves and moss popped out from the drab colors of this forgotten room.

Wukong, immediately, wanted to drop his weapon.

“No,” he spat, suddenly very angry, “No! Do you think this is a joke?”

“If you think I’m trying to play tricks, then I can advise you to close your eyes, count to ten, and look again.”

“You’re…,” Wukong started. He bared his teeth, taking in the Emperor’s challenging gaze before forcing his attention down toward the Harbinger. 

The little monkey in the cradle looked up. It had been sleeping innocently, and it fluttered its eyelashes at the sudden light. Now, it was blinking those honey eyes at him. 

“Hi,” it said in a tiny voice, fit for such a tiny thing.

The end of Wukong’s staff clinked against the stone floor. 

“What is going on here?” he said, ignoring the child. He could feel his fur prickling with anger at the stale scent of Flower Fruit Mountain coming from it, weak and caked with something earthy and milky, but there.

“Do not forget what I’ve told you. The Harbinger being a stone monkey shouldn’t influence the facts; it’s dangerous, Monkey, and it’ll only grow to be our enemy if you allow your feelings to complicate.”

“A stone monkey!” cried Wukong, “my stone monkey, even! Born on Mount Huaguo! You’ve stolen it!”

“A Harbinger of Chaos!” shot back the Emperor, and Wukong willed himself to stay quiet. The little monkey shivered at the whipping fog. It reached up to Wukong with little hands, but he was quick to dodge them. “I urge you to think straight, Sun Wukong. Your similarities to it may have been the reason I chose you to meet me here, but the similarities end with your ability to change. You had opportunities, Monkey, but this one is doomed from the start. There is no changing what it will become. If you cannot see that, then you are as foolish as you were underneath that mountain.”

That cold, twisting anger curdled in Wukong’s belly. He ached to give the Emperor a piece of his mind. ‘Find someone else to do this’ he wanted to say, ‘how dare you shove the duty onto me’. But a voice, little but powerful, was chanting; ‘this thing will kill you. It could kill you. You need to kill it first’.

Wukong’s mouth went dry.

The little monkey cooed. Wukong, on instinct, tilted his head at it, and found that it was staring intensely at Wukong’s tail. He flicked it nervously. The little monkey giggled at the way it twisted. 

“Mnkey,” it squealed, proudly, “mnkey!”

Wukong could feel the Emperor’s gaze on him. He was in the spotlight now, not the Harbinger, and whatever steps he took had to be perfect. What he wanted and what the Emperor wanted were quickly becoming blurred lines. Did the staff stay or go? Did he swing now or later?

“You want me to kill it?” he asked, stupidly, just to make sure.

“Yes.”

“I…” Wukong quickly tried to pull anything from his head, “I don’t know how, but if I could just have time to figure it out…”

The Emperor’s wounds warbled. Wukong watched one split further, cautiously, and he feared for a moment that he would just have to start lashing at the little thing. How cruel it would be if he had to force himself to stay here until it perished.

But then, the Emperor said, “Make haste, then. We can’t afford to waste the precious time that remains. Take the thing. Bring it wherever you’d like; the middle of nowhere, under the sea, to your mountain; find a way to get rid of it. I will have a member of my court check in on you daily.”

Daily? Eugh. How was Wukong supposed to relax when all he could look forward to was one check after another? They might as well be trapped down here for all of eternity. 

“Right,” said Wukong, looking at the monkey, “yeah, rodger that.”

The monkey– Wukong didn’t want to call the monkey ‘it’ anymore– must’ve liked something that came out of his mouth. They smiled at him with itty bitty teeth, and Wukong felt cold at the way his heart melted.

“Right,” he repeated. He sent a fleeting glance at the Emperor before removing his cape.

The air here was chilly. The monkey’s fur was raised by the goosebumps forming on their skin, so he wrapped the poor thing with his cape and brought them up to his chest. 

Something like a “thank you” mumbled from the monkey’s mouth. They tried to grasp onto Wukong’s fur, but the swaddle was too constricting, and his chest plate blocked any further attempt.

“I expect to see you soon, Monkey,” said the Emperor.

Wukong only nodded. He didn’t want to be in this foggy room anymore.

The Harbinger likely didn’t understand the conversation that had just happened. They looked too young to formulate too many words, much less distinguish between more than a couple– but sensing the tone was probably different. They were blinking at him as if spooked. Maybe they were clever enough to realize that they might have not been completely safe after all.

When Wukong left the room, the first thing he heard was a soft exhale. 

He turned and glared at the prisoner. 

“What?” he snapped, and the little monkey tensed. They cooed, as if trying to calm him down, and he pointedly ignored them.

“Nothing,” insisted the snake demon. But his voice was bubbly– giggly, almost– and he smiled toothily at Wukong. “You’re just an interesting character, Great Sage, just as I expected you to be.”

Wukong frowned. He couldn’t entertain this demon. He, too, had been a prisoner of Heaven once, but this one would likely go mad before he was freed of his misery. Wukong had gotten lucky. Wukong didn’t feel entirely lucky.

“Are you one of Nüwa’s children?” 

The demon tilted his head. There was a hint of surprise that flashed across his eyes, but it may have been more amused than anything else. He tested the weight of the shackles around his wrists. They clinked, scraped against scales, and then settled.

“Aren’t we all?” he replied. 

The Harbinger giggled. They must have thought his striking, glowing eyes were interesting. The snake demon smirked at them in return, lifting his fingers to wave them at the little thing.

Wukong, suddenly remembering that this whole story was lost to him, felt horribly like a pawn. He readjusted the child in his arms and briskly headed toward the stairs.

What would Wukong do? Was he to head back to Flower Fruit Mountain? That might be the best course of action– to regather himself from this unexpected event. Then again, he had no idea if the Harbinger had powers; like laser eyes, or fireballs. Maybe keeping them in a collapsable mountain wasn’t very smart.

“You bring us colorful light. You beautify the lovely flower of our soul,” he murmured to himself. The Harbinger pressed their head against the cool chest plate to listen. Wukong’s chest tightened. “Today we grow under the sunlight, tomorrow we will create a colorful world.”

[dark-and-kawaii]

Listen, Zavrik is just ahdhdjabdjsks

However, you gotta give a girl a break. Not only am I thirsting and longing for fictional characters in a video game, but it's now like three levels deep cause it's not even like he's a non-romancable npc, he's a character that's not even part of the story! Not even a Tav or Durge, nope, just the epitome of a perfect dude who's the child of a non-romancable npc and some random person's (said with love) tav..... I'm in too deep, I have a nosebleed now 🫠

I- I don’t know what to say!!!! Oh my gosh, this is so freaking- AHHHHH ♡!!! When I said he captures the attention of people I didn’t think he’d actually capture people’s attention!!! The way I feel so full of knowing you have love for him!!! He really is a cinnamon roll, and I’m glad you’re in deep because Zavrik would treat you so well~ ♡ ♡ ♡ he’s the perfect mix of Zevlor & Lofn so you know you’re in for a good loving time!!! Enjoy these dear - 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒦𝒾𝓌𝒾 𝓍𝑜𝓍𝑜

Whenever you’re around Zavrik the world around you always seems to fade into a soft blur, the sounds of the city always dimming into a distant hum as his very soul envelopes you.

It always feels as if though time itself has paused, holding its breath to witness the moments he shares with you. His arms, always so strong yet gentle, encircle around your waist with a warmth that seeps into your very being… A cocoon of safety and affection that shields you from all that is harsh and unkind.

Zavrik’s eyes, oh those beautiful eyes that remind you of diamonds, are a universe unto themselves. Pools of deep emotion, they lock onto yours with raw passion that makes your heart flutter. In their depths, you see a reflection of yourself, cherished and adored, as if you are- no, that you are the very center of his world. Each time his gaze meets yours, it’s as if he’s memorizing every detail, every scar, every breath you take- committing it to memory.

His touch, a whisper against your skin, his fingers tracing the contours of your face with a tenderness that makes you feel as delicate as a petal. There’s always such great care in his movements, a gentleness, treating you as if you are the most precious thing he’s ever held.

In Zavrik’a embrace- in his presence, you always feel seen, known, and oh so loved. The world may continue to spin, but here in his arms you are the only one who matters. And that feeling always lingers no matter the distance, it is a feel he’s made sure to etch into your very heart so that you always feel as if you’ve found a home in him no matter where you go.

And should the gods be cruel and tear him away from your side, Zavrik has ensured that you will never face this world unguarded. Skjaldrynn, will take his place as your sentinel. A living testament to Zavrik’s promise that you will never be alone until he can great you once more in the heavens above. In the wyvern’s watchful gaze you, you find a piece of Zavrik’s spirit, a guardian that carries his heart, ensuring that his love shields you always ♡ ♡ ♡