#why do vegetables spoil so quickly :(

[kaneaken]

author's note; bringing forth my soft capitano agenda with a short drabble

content notes; gn!reader, established relationship (married), you adopt ororon for a bit, mention of having children (as in raising them together), slight hurt/comfort, slight spoilers about capitano's origins

When you hear your husband's been injured in an altercation with the Pyro Archon, you were rushing out of the Fatui camp immediately. Multiple Fatui soldiers chase after you, telling you to return to camp.

"Lord Capitano will have our head if their partner gets injured! Move!" You hear one of the soldiers call out to their comrades. You ignore them. The only thing on your mind is to make sure your husband is alright. You know he's strong, stronger than you know, but it doesn't ease your stress.

In your focused state, you don't notice the man you're worried about approaching. You bump into his chest, almost tumbling over if not for him catching you by the shoulders.

"What are you doing outside of the camp, beloved?" He asks, looking down at you. You don't answer, your hands quickly moving about in search of his wounds.

"I heard what happened. Are you okay? Does it hurt? Where did you get hit?" You sputter out your questions, not bothering to let him answer.

"Excuse me..." A voice interrupts, causing you to turn your head. You make eye contact with a dark-haired male. He definitely wasn't a Fatui soldier, but his clothing reminded you of the locals.

"Who is this?" You ask, turning back to Capitano.

"A child from the Masters of the Night Wind. He assisted with my escape," Capitano answers. He readjusts his hand, leading you back to the camp with his hand on your back.

The male walks beside the two of you, interjecting whenever needed to explain himself.

Ororon is his name. You learn much about him as he spends time at the Fatui encampment. Whenever your husband is out, you find yourself making small talk with Ororon.

You learn about his garden. You smile when he promises to bring you some of his vegetables. He tells you about his family back home. He tells you that his granny will be especially furious with him when he returns home. You wonder what kind of woman his granny is.

As the days go by, you realize Ororon is a very sweet, young boy. You find yourself worrying about him more. When he goes out to search for herbs, you secretly tell the soldiers accompanying him to keep a very close watch of him. You always offer him an extra serving of food despite your husband's insistence that he's eaten enough.

"You're overfeeding him, beloved."

"It's better than underfeeding!"

When Ororon returns home for the first time, your husband notices your faltered state.

"You spoiled that child as if he was your own. I fear you have become too attached, beloved," Captiano remarks as he takes a seat next to you.

"Ah, I suppose so..." You admit. You chuckle soflty, resting your head on his shoulder. "We don't have any of our own, so I suppose I was just projecting."

"Children..."

"It's a silly dream of mine. Don't worry."

Capitano shakes his head. "It isn't silly at all. I suppose... I never believed you'd want children, especially with a man such as I."

That shocks you. You lift your head, facing him. "Why wouldn't I? There isn't anyone else I'd rather have children with."

You understand his hesitating. The curse he bears makes the future he once dreamed of almost impossible. You don't want him to believe that. He deserves a future as much as any other person.

"You'd be a wonderful father," You reassure, placing your head on his shoulder once again.

"You truly believe that?"

"I do."

[profundcherrylady]

SINGLE DAD!SAE ITOSHI

A/N: This isn't my usual content, but I was thinking about this scenario and I had huge baby fever so I couldn't NOT write it. I love Sae too much y'all. Also sorry for any spelling mistakes english ain't my first language.

Warnings: Mentions of death and grieving, Sae tries forcing his daughter to either eat her vegetables or go to school hungry (he doesn't go through with it)(this is a very brief scene but it could still be triggering to some people). STILL MOSTLY FLUFF I SWEAR.

Contents: Sae being a girl dad fr, y'all can't change my mind on this one, also Rin being an uncle. That's pretty much it. A little ooc (Rin mostly)

"Papaaaa" Mao complained, her voice echoing across the house and making Sae drop the dishes he was washing and walk across the house into her room to see what was going on... this time. Although he had a pretty good idea given her recent tantrums.

"Can't sleep?" he inquired, but he knew the answer as soon as she saw her curling up in her little bed and pouting, her doe teal eyes looking up to him as if to give him pity. "No, Mao, you cannot come sleep in my room."

"Why not?!"

"You've already been sleeping there all week... come on, you're a big girl, you can sleep on your own room."

"But I wanna be with you..." he sighed. It had seemed she had inherited his stubbornness, because sometimes it felt like there was just no way of making her change her mind when she was set on something. He leaned against the door a little, thinking about what to say that may change her mind.

"I know I was away for a while the last couple of weeks and I understand you missed me, but I can't have this conversation with you every single night."

"Why do you go away in the first place..."

"You know why, I have to for work." he countered, "And do not ask me why I can't bring you along, we've talked about this countless of times before. I don't go away for fun. If I bring you with me, you'll want to go everywhere with me and then you'll get fussy and mad because I'll be working all the time, or worse, you'll get bored to death in the hotel. Believe me, staying here is best for you when I go on business trips."

"But I just wanna be with you!!" his eye almost twitched in annoyance at the sight; he knew that tone of voice all too well. It was another tantrum coming his way, but still, he tried to remain calm for her sake.

"You're with me now."

"So can I sleep in your room?"

"No." then she threatened to start crying. He let out a low, defeated huff, holding back the urge to roll his eyes. She just wasn't giving up, was she? Pushing himself off the doorframe, he looked back at her before speaking. "Fine. Come on."

"This is the last time." he knew damn well that was a fat lie, but he still had to at least pretend to be firm. She would grow up to be a spoiled child otherwise, or at least that's what he was used to tell himself.

The little girl beamed, quickly jumping out of bed and running towards her father. She hopped with her arms up towards him asking to be carried, to which he complied. He wrapped his arms around her small frame and lifted her up, watching as she clung onto him as if he just came back from war or something. Could he really blame her, though? She had lost her mother and he was away all the time; it would be strange if she wasn't feeling lonely.

"Papa, sing me a song." Sae reconsidered his life decisions for a moment there, not gonna lie, but how could he honestly say no to those pleading eyes?

"Fine..." he sighed, his voice soft and low as he began humming whatever song he could think of on the top of his head. Still keeping a secure hold on her, Sae began rocking his daughter to further lure her to sleep. He held her with one arm so that he could close the door of her room, the soft click assuring him that everything was in order, and then started walking a few steps towards his.

By this point, little Mao was sound asleep on his arms, and he almost chuckled at the thought of his daughter refusing to sleep until she was with him. He carefully opened the door a few meters away and walked quitely to the bed, trying his best to not wake up the sleeping child on his arms, and set her down to rest. Once tucked in and comfortable, he let out a sigh of relief. Finally, the brat was asleep and he could be at peace. She could be so clingly and energetic sometimes... not that he cared that much, even though her restlessness was exhausting, it showed that she felt safe and loved enough to be her enthusiastic self around him without any regrets.

It was weird to him, like an unfamiliar sense of pride that surged at the sight of her young daughter bouncing around and playing endlessly. He would often look at her and think about how different her personality was from his, and how much it reminded him of her mother. Sae tried not to though, as he despised comparing his daughter to his late wife over and over again, but sometimes he just couldn't help it. From the way she smiled to the color of her hair... they were just so alike each other. He still kept all the memories from her close to his heart, which in a way made him feel guilty. Sae knew just how much his daughter yearned for a maternal figure; someone to talk to and educate her about girly stuff that he may not understand. He would watch her staring at the other kids with their moms and act like it really wasn't a big deal to avoid making him feel like he wasn't enough, but Sae knew better. It was obvious to him that his daughter absolutely adored him, and he was sure she thought he was enough, but he also knew that she missed having a mom. She missed her mom. He missed her mom too.

Normally he would avoid talking about it. It had been hard enough trying to explain to this small child that her mom wasn't coming home that night, or ever, let alone process his own grief at the loss of the only woman he once loved. If he cried, he had to do it when his daughter wasn't looking, because the last thing he needed to add to his worries was worrying his daughter to the point of avoiding everything that may set off a bad mood on him. It wasn't her fault, he just felt his heart break everytime he took her home and she pointed at a framed picture of her mom exclaiming 'Mama!' Or 'Hey mama', 'I'm back, mama', 'Miss you, mama'. He would hold back his tears and take a deep breath whenever she tried asking if she could visit her mom in the place she was at (as he initially had told her it was a place where she couldn't come back), having to explain carefully that she couldn't. She would get mad and ask why a bunch of times, but he didn't have the heart to tell her 'She's dead' straight up. He really tried to just give her an excuse like that she was sleeping forever or something, as if she was in the sleeping beauty, but then she just began asking if a true love kiss from him would wake her up. She was a child, after all, and she hadn't quite grassped the concept of death yet.

He let himself watch her sleep for a few moments, sinking in the stillness of the night. Taking care of a young child made this moments rare, and he treasured whatever rest he could get. He reached out to the nightstand and picked up the heater remote, pressing a couple of buttons to turn it on a bit; just enough to keep the room warm, as he knew nights at that time of the year could become fairly cold and he didn't want his daughter getting sick. And as expected, she got very evidently more comfortable as the room became warmer, falling into a deeper state of sleep. She had only carried her favorite bunny plushie from her room to hold onto and apparently that was all she needed to fall asleep. He plopped himself onto the bed as well and fell asleep almost instantly from the exhaustion of the day, not even caring about closing the door or the half-washed dishes he left on the sink or even the fact that he hadn't even changed his clothes. He was DONE for the day.

Although, the next day he most definitely regretted it.

He had to wake up early and finish cleaning all the mess his daughter had left throughout the day, plus now he had to make breakfast, wake her up and get her to school. Sae was a rather organized person and he would normally not find himself in this type of situation, but it seemed like ever since he became a father he was running short of time for everything no matter how much he tried to plan in advance.

"Morning." Sae greeted his still somewhat sleepy child as she yawned and climbed the chair infront of her to eat. "Slept well?"

"Mhm..." Mao mumbled, rubbing her eyes with one arm while she still clung to her favorite plushie with the other. He placed a plate on the table for her and then one for him, along with his usual morning coffee and the only damned brand of juice that she liked for some reason and that he had to drive for an hour to buy.

"Come on, eat. You have preschool today."

"Can't I skip? It's snowing so muuuuch." the kid dropped her head onto the table and sighed, clearly displeased about going to school.

"Apparently it's not snowing enough to cancel your classes. Now, please, eat."

He watched intently as his daughter took a close look at the food, pouting and feeling now rather down since she wasn't allowed to skip school. She took a couple of bites of her breakfast and she had a few sips of her juice, then she pushed her plate a little to indicate she was done.

"Thanks for the food." she was about to get off the table when she was interrupted by her father's stern voice.

"Not so fast. There is no way you're full with just that."

"Yeah I am..." such an obvious lie.

"Why aren't you eating? And I want the truth."

She pouted, AGAIN, before reluctantly giving an answer.

"It has green peppers on it..." and there you have it; this was the real challenge of Sae's day.

"I told you, they're good for you."

"But they're gross! Can I eat something else please?" this is Sae's life now. Even winning a soccer match was easier than getting his daughter to eat her vegetables.

"Mao, I spent a lot of time making breakfast for you, can you please finish your food? You still need to get ready to go to school. I don't have any time to make you more breakfeast; I have to go work."

"But... I really don't like them... please?" that was the last straw for him. He didn't mean to sound cruel, but he was tired and didn't know what else to say.

"Mao Itoshi, you're staying on this table until the last bite of food on your plate is GONE. If you don't, you'll go to school hungry and I'm not making you anything else after I pick you up. You are eating this one way or another." he almost instantly regretted the harsh tone of voice he had used, as he saw his kid's eyes begin watering. He passed his hands through his face in exasperation, took a deep breath, and walked around the table to pick her up. He exhaled, trying his best to remain calm before speaking to her again, as he could feel Mao's tears on his clothes and the little shudders she made at the effort to hold back tears. Sae patted and passed his fingers through his daughter's hair in a poor attempt to soothe her, but the damage was already done. She was holding thay bunny plush in her arms like a lifeline. "Sorry, okay? I didn't mean to be so hard on you. I woke up early to make your breakfast and you just took a few bites of it... I got frustrated, but that wasn't a reason to force you to eat something you don't like. I'm just saying, green peppers aren't the end of the world; they can be tasty."

"I guess I can eat them..." he sighed.

"No, you'll just be eating them out of guilt. You shouldn't do things you don't want to just because you're afraid of someone's bad mood." he thought for a moment. Mao eating the green peppers wasn't the ideal result now, she was hurt and vulnerable and that would only teach her that she should fear and comply which wouldn't end well on the long run... still, he did spend his time making her breakfast and didn't want it to go to waste. "Tell you what. I'll eat the green peppers for today, if you promise you'll at least try them next time, and I'll find another recipe to try to make them taste better. Sound good?" she nodded, still hiding her face from him by pressing it against his clothes. "Good. Now, I really don't have more time to make you more breakfast, so let's pick out the stuff you don't like just this once, and only this one time. I seriously need you to try to learn to eat your vegetables."

"...'kay."

"Let's hurry then; you still need to get ready for school."

Sae for sure was missing having some help on the raising of his daughter. He would never admit it though, he would try and pretend parenting was the easiest thing in the world when in reality he was fighting for his life everyday trying to shape this little human into a good person, and refraining from helping her while she failed at tying her shoe countless of times before admiting she didn't know how to do it (this is why he only buys her velcro).

He left the tiny sparkling pink shoes on the ground as he heard the doorbell, then looked at the clock hanging from the wall nearby. 8:14am, who in the world was it this early? Sae indicated his daughter to stay still on the couch before walking towards the door, and right after seeing the face on the other side he furrowed his eyebrows in surprise.

"Rin? What are you doing here?" his little brother then proceeded to push him aside and step inside as if it were his own house.

"Move, I didn't come here for you." his eyes traveled the room and eventually fell on the little girl sitting on the couch, and in a blink of an eye he had lifted the little girl up and hugged her tightly. Despite her surprise, she could obviously recognize her only favorite uncle.

To everyone's surprise, Rin absolutely adored his niece. Sure he had problems with his older brother but he didn't have to take it out on an innocent child that had done nothing to him. Besides, she was so adorable and bubbly and so NOT like Sae. Rin sometimes would stare at her in amazement, wondering how it was possible that this was truly Sae's spawn; yet the teal eyes and lower lashes were unmistakable. She was an Itoshi alright.

"Umclw Rwin!" her voice came out muffled, as she was currently being burried on his chest, but the sentiment was there.

"What are you doing here?" Sae was straight to the point, not caring about his cold tone of voice this time. And he says he doesn't have favorites.

"I just came back from my morning run." the younger Itoshi explained, still not looking at him in the eye. "Thought I'd stop by to say hello."

"To her."

"Yes, I didn't want to talk to your pathetic-"

"Language."

"Shut up."

"Don't hug her when you're still sweaty and gross, she just took a bath." he continued scolding Rin, earning a groan of frustration from him.

"Your dad is so annoying." his niece giggled at the obvious beef between his dad and uncle. She didn't really understand it but it was funny from her point of view. "Such lukewarm rules he has."

"Lukewarm!" she repeated.

"Rin, stop teaching her those words. Mao, say bye to your uncle; we have to get you to school."

"Awwwwww, can he come with?"

"Fine, whatever will get you to actually go to school. Rin, let's go."

"Don't boss me around." he complained, walking with his niece on his arms towards the door and setting her down. "Let's put on our shoes, shall we?" he took the shoes Sae had set down earlier and helped the kid put them on with ease. Of course, he had dealt with this countless of times before. Sae had the bad habit of using him as a free nanny for whenever he had to travel, which was often.

"Uncle Rin, how do you go running with all this snow? It's so cold!"

"When you run, you sweat and then it doesn't feel so cold." he finished tying the kid's shoelaces and took her by the hand, then Sae picked up a scarf wrapped it carefully around her neck.

"Don't take it off." he warned, watching as she began squirming to get away from the scratchy scarf. "It's cold out, I don't want you getting sick."

"Okay, papa." he gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before taking her free hand and not so subtly making Rin let go of her as he finally opened the front door. They were quickly hit by the cold winter air, and Mao shuddered a little at the sudden change in temperature.

Stil, Sae made sure his hand was holding hers tight and that she kept herself on his field of vision. There would be someday in the future where she wouldn't need him to hold her hand; he had to treasure these moments and not let her go while he still could.

[yandere-daydreams]

See I want a vaguely medieval fantasy where gojo is the crown Prince more occupied with jousting and feasting than seriously ruling and geto is the slimy Court wizard who is actually doing most of the ruleing, and who is advising him to keep the cute little commoner who came petitioning the crown to give aid to their famine striken village.

After all what better way to help them then by keeping them safe and spoiled wrapped up in silk sheets between them.

Oh yeah and they'll send some bread or something too.

tw - non/con, unbalanced power dynamics, rampant corruption kink, and forced marriage. i go buck wild so quickly on this one and i apologize sincerely for that.

i mean,,, suguru would just be so slinky about it,,, talking up the value of your commoner's naivety to satoru,,, encouraging him to wait until your quickly approaching wedding day to finally take your innocence and fully bask in the spoils of regalitiy,,, only to let himself into the chambers where you're being imprisoned safe-kept every night and have a taste of the ""virginity"" he's been grooming satoru to be oh-so-excited to take. it's partially satoru's fault for being raised on stories of knights and princes, for caring more about things like duel tournaments and throwing big, elaborate banquets than he's tried to when it comes to domestic policies and the work that always seems to land on suguru's shoulders, instead. not that he minds. he prefers to be in control, but he's not above a little pettiness, every now and then.

and, when satoru does get his fairy-tale wedding and you inevitably break down to him about why exactly his favored advisor's taken it upon himself to visit you so often, his response will come in the form of an airy laugh, an 'i should've known' smile, a promise that he's not mad - just a little disappointed he didn't get to you first. of course, suguru will be called to your wedding quarters and, of course, he'll slowly and meticulously demonstrate everything he's learned about your delicate and so sorely mistreated commoner body while satoru watches on, only interrupting his hands-on participation is called for. it's only when you're on the verge of losing consciousness that suguru explains that you do have more than one virginity up for the taking if satoru is willing to break from tradition, many of which suguru was kind enough to leave more-or-less in-tact. the overeager newlywed that he is, satoru is quick to take him up on the offer, but only under suguru's careful observation, of course.

oh, and if it crosses him mind, suguru might mention that they did end up sending a few wagons of bread and root vegetables to your village, but only after most of your friends and neighbors had already died, moved on, or were otherwise deemed unsalvageable. condolences, sorrows, etc. etc. you seem to be doing well enough for yourself, though - truly, a show of King Satoru's absolutely limitlessness benevolence.

[babybatss-blog]

DOMESTICS

Sirius black x reader, 1100  words

summary: all you wanted to do was cook Sirius some chicken for dinner, but perhaps things don’t always go your way.

c/w: established relationship, alcohol consumption, swearing and crying, argument between Sirus and Reader. Practically just tame, basic relationship angst that turns into fluff :)

The classic casual Friday night is always a big step in any intimate relationship. Stepping out of uncomfortable outfits and delicate table foods into comfy hoodies and junky snacks creates a whole new level of intimacy with a partner, and can be quite nerve wracking for at least the first few instances. 

But you and Sirius are way past that.

On the first date, you stayed the night at his for two whole days. You met his best friends on that second day, and he met yours just four days later. James said you were funny, and Lily said Sirus was smitten. He admired your comfortableness with him while you appreciated his lack of care towards your groggy state every morning, and a week in you both shared your deepest traumas with each other. On some random Wednesday your parents turned up unannounced in your apartment, which is when he met them both shirtless and slightly hungover (though he concealed the latter expertly).

So, two months later it is entirely expected to have Sirius lounging on your couch, watching some Netflix overproduced action show and as you cook dinner. Usually he prefers taking control of the kitchen because he “likes to spoil his girls”, but he did not impose when you insisted it was your turn to give him some love. The kitchen smells like a variety of spices and mouth-watering flavours, and despite the simple dish you are preparing the kitchen looks like a professional chef is making a world-famous meal. Plates, pots and pans are spread around, ingredients spilled on any and all surfaces and your state decreased to completely dishevelled, huffing and puffing at every slight inconvenience to come your way. “This needs to be perfect for him.” You think, anxiously managing every element with not a moment to spare. Unbeknownst to you Sirus has now snuck over, and softly places his chiselled chin on your shoulder as you peer over the cooking meat.

“Looks raw.” He states nonchalantly, arms creeping around your waist. “I know. It’s not done yet.” You explain bluntly, words leaving your mouth slightly more harsh than you intended. But you don’t take them back, as your focus is entirely taken up by the meal in front of you.

Wait, I thought it was done? What’s it meant to look like if it is done? What does it taste like? What more does it need?

He soon releases you, walking away to the bathroom as he calls out. “Sorry for not wanting to be poisoned I guess!” You huff, opting to not fight back in fear of putting too much energy into something that doesn’t really matter in the scheme of things. You and Sirius are both painfully stubborn when you want to be, and are often laughed at by your friends for getting in ridiculous arguments. Once, you needed to go on a walk and clear your head after the two of you debated which Barbie movie is the best.

As he returns from the bathroom he subtly side eyes the chicken, seeing you have now placed it on a plate ready for serving. Against his better judgment, he calls out, in a half cough half word amalgamation which complains “still raw”. Would it be smart for you to reply? No, of course not! But do you do it anyway? Obviously!

“WELL WHY DON’T YOU COOK THEN MR PERFECT?!” You snap, eyes erratic and wide as you face him. He scoffs, hands placed on the kitchen counter opposite you.

“I’d be happy to, but you didn’t fucking let me!”

”Didn’t let you? I’m not your mother, I’m sorry I wanted to do something nice for you!”

“Well it isn’t nice if I’m too sick to go to work tomorrow!”

“Relax hard ass, you start work at three!” The argument quickly escalates past the point of reasonable, as Sirius’ arms flail widely about and the vegetables are left to burn in the oven.

In a closing statement you call Sirius a “spoilt brat” and he storms off, slamming the bedroom door behind him so he can no longer hear you if you try to apologise. Tears well in your eyes as you look around, realising what just happened truly as your brain finally processes. How can your worst argument be about some stupid chicken? You rush to repair the damage of your distractions to the meal, pulling the vegetables out of the oven as your salty tears fall within. You can barely see through your exaggerated sobs, mad at yourself for all manner of things.

Why did you let his simple comments go to your head? What if he’s right, and the meals a disaster? Will he despise you now for going so off the handle? Is this the last night of your fleeting romance?

You quietly serve up the food as these thoughts run through your head, wiping away gushing tears and snot as you go. Once it’s done, you tentatively go over to the closed door of the bedroom and knock a few times. You hear some shuffles, and the door is opened to reveal an unimpressed Sirus. “Sorry…” You mumble, eyes glued to the wooden floor between you. He pushes past you in silence, grabbing his plate and sitting down on the plush couch. As much as you would like to beg for forgiveness and list all the reasons you should stay together, you don’t deem that important when he pats the space next to him to sit down, handing you a sympathetic yet weak smile. “I know you didn’t mean it.” He finally gets out, eyes drilling into your still shy figure. “I just was trying to help.” “I know. But I didn’t want you to have to worry. I wanted to spoil you; you know?” His hand falls onto your thigh, the other placing the chicken in his hungry mouth. You join him in eating the meal, and reluctantly admit what you wished wasn’t true.

“It’s not fully cooked.” You pout, tears still glossing your eyes. He chuckles, placing his plate down and enveloping you in a hug. “That’s fine gorgeous. UberEats it is.” You pull back and quickly peck his lips, a smile forming on both your faces as you respond.

“Only if it’s Mexican.”

“Deal.”

[idontevenknowwhatt]

Goodbye

Summary: Y/n is shot while arresting an unsub. The precious final moments where both Emily and y/n know there's no escaping the inevitable, but they hold on to each other as long as they can.

Warnings: Talks about death, dying (reader dies), a little angsty but mostly just really sad, hard hitting final moments between two lovers.

A/N: Hello again, sorry i'm not a super consistent writer but thought of this the other day. It is a little bit sader than I might normally go but why not I guess. Also this won’t follow any specific episode. I hope you all enjoy it :))

—--------------------------------------------

The pain in your side is unbearable, sharp and biting. You feel your body weakening with each breath. But it’s the silence that follows the chaos of the gunfire that feels like the loudest thing in the world.

You know that this is the end. And it’s too much to ignore. There’s no saving you now, no way to stop the bleeding that’s spreading quickly. You both know it. But even so, Emily refuses to let go of you. Her hands, her touch, surround you. She's steady and warm, holding you close, never once wavering.

You’re not sure how long it’s been at this point. Time feels like it’s standing still, or maybe it’s moving too quickly. All you know is that Emily is with you, and that's the only thing that matters.

"Em," you whisper, your voice weak. You try to sit up despite the pain in your side, and she’s there instantly, guiding you gently into her arms. She doesn’t need to say anything. She doesn’t need to ask. She just pulls you into her lap, your back resting against her chest as if she’s trying to shield you from everything.

Her breath is steady in your ear, but you can feel the tremor in her hands as she wraps her free arm around you. The other pressed firmly against your side in hopes of stopping the bleeding. You lean your head back against her shoulder, just below her neck, your cheek brushing gently against her skin. She smells like warmth, like home.

"Hey," you say softly, your words coming out ragged, and you force yourself to look up at her, even though everything in your body wants to shut down. "What are we going to do tomorrow?"

Emily’s arm tightens around you, her fingers coming up to brush the hair from your face. Her voice cracks slightly as she responds, but she keeps it steady for you. "Tomorrow…" she begins, trailing off like she’s trying to pull herself together, like she’s grasping at a future that’s slipping away. "Tomorrow, we’re going to start planning that honeymoon we never had. We’re going to pick the perfect place, somewhere beautiful. You always talked about going somewhere tropical. You’ll let me spoil you with fancy dinners and walks along the beach at sunset. You’ll let me show you the world the way you deserve to see it."

You close your eyes for a moment, the warmth of her body against yours more comforting than anything else. Her heart beats against your back, steady and rhythmic, and for just a moment, you let yourself feel the softness of her words, the hope in them.

"And the next day?" you ask, your voice barely audible, your eyes half-closed as the darkness creeps in. You want to keep talking and stay in this moment, even if just for a little while longer.

"The next day…" Emily pauses again, taking a shaky breath, but you can feel her smile against your hair. "We’ll start thinking about the life we're going to build. We’ll talk about where we’re going to live, what kind of house we’ll have. You've talked about moving out of our apartment for awhile. Maybe a little farmhouse. Or a big house in the city. You’ll want a garden, right? Somewhere to plant roses and vegetables. And I’ll be there, helping you. You’ll have me with you every step of the way."

Her words are a balm, soothing the raw edges of the pain inside you. You want to tell her that you love her. That you’ll always love her. But all you can do is nod against her chest, your body growing heavier with each passing second.

Emily’s voice lowers, and you hear her take another shaky breath. "And we’ll have kids. A little girl who has your eyes, and a boy who’s just as stubborn as you. You’ll teach them everything, and I’ll watch you with them and wonder how I ever got so lucky. You'll be the best mom."

You can hear the tears in her voice now, the desperation to make all of this real, to somehow keep it from slipping away. You want to respond, but it feels like you don’t have the strength anymore.

But Emily isn’t done yet. "We’ll have so many moments," she says, her voice thick with emotion. "Holidays, birthdays, quiet mornings where we just wake up next to each other and don’t say a word because we don’t need to. We’ll grow old together. I’ll hold your hand through everything, and we’ll look back on our life, and we’ll laugh, and we’ll cry, and we’ll just be... together."

Her words wrap around you like a warm blanket, a promise, even if neither of you can keep it. You can’t fight the tears now, and they slip from your eyes, though you don’t know if they’re from the pain, the beauty of everything she’s describing, or the sheer heartbreak of knowing that none of it will happen.

You hear Emily’s voice again, low and raw with emotion, and you shift just slightly in her arms turning to look up at her. "I love you so much," she says, her lips brushing against your forehead, her hands holding you tighter than you thought possible. "You are my everything. I can’t even put it into words. The way you make me feel...I never thought I could love someone like this. I never thought I’d have someone who loved me the way you do."

You’re barely able to open your eyes now, but you look up at her one last time. You want to say it, to tell her how much you love her, but your voice is a whisper, almost drowned out by the weight of everything. "I love you," you murmur, your voice weak, but your heart full. "You’re my heart, Em. You always have been. I never thought I could love someone as much as I love you."

Emily gently presses her lips to yours, a final, soft kiss, and you feel the love in it. You kiss her back with all the energy you have left. It’s everything you’ve always felt, everything you’ve always wanted to say. But now, you know you don’t have to say anything else. She knows. She always has.

"I’ll love you forever," Emily whispers, the words barely escaping her lips as her arms tighten around you. Her forehead rests against yours and you fight with everything left in you to keep your eyes open for as long as possible. "I’ll love you forever. And I’ll carry you with me, every single day of my life."

You can feel the darkness closing in, but it’s not scary. It’s peaceful, in a way. You don’t want to go. Not really. But Emily’s here, and she’s holding you, and you know that wherever you go, you’ll always carry her with you.

"I’ll always be with you," you whisper, even though you’re not sure if she can hear it. "In your heart. Always."

You feel Emily’s tears fall against your cheeks, her grip tightening one last time. "I know, baby. I know."

And with that, you let go.

—--------------------------------------------

[riaki]

ᴄɪɢᴀʀᴇᴛᴛᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛᴡᴏ | ᴀᴋɪ ʜᴀʏᴀᴋᴀᴡᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

syn: as strong-willed as he thinks he is, aki can't help but indulge you every once in a while. he's too weak for you. or, aki shotguns you.

in the past, aki would’ve never admitted to being an addict.

whether it be the cigarettes that are always a few inches away from his twitching fingers, tucked in his pocket— or the alcohol he lets himself indulge in as a sort of tradition he'd treat himself to; a toast to the next day he lives to see, he likes to think his resolve is a little stronger than an itch in his lungs here and there.

still, it's not like he refrains from doing it— his policy is that he's going to end up in the grave soon one way or another, so in his eyes, it's just one rusted nail in the coffin that's a sliver away from being sealed. you’ve complained about it before, but he just can’t rip himself away from the smoke. it’s too bad he can’t turn you pocket sized and carry you around in his palm; you’re a great substitute to the hit of nicotine in terms of soothing his constantly buzzing mind.

his leniency towards those types of things dashes when it comes to you, though. like the breaking foam of waves that crash against a rocky shoreline.

“i said, no.”

aki thought he’d already been firm enough with you the first time, but evidently not. even so, no matter how much you pout and whine— he is not letting you take a drag from his cigarette.

normally, he wouldn’t care. it’s not like he’s never shared one before— he used to steal drags from himeno all the time, until you expressed your disdain and he stopped immediately. it’s not that he doesn’t find your jealousy cute— quite the opposite, in fact. he just doesn’t want you getting any stupid ideas.

you’re certainly not making it easy for him, though.

“come on aki, please?” it’s not uncommon for you to plead like that. since you’ve started dating, aki, or rather, you, have found that the best way to melt his strength of will is to beg.

aki likes taking care of you. it’s in his nature; whatever spirit of a big brother that was left in him after he lost his family gradually nurtured and bloomed in your relationship, especially with someone as… irresponsible as you.

as such, it’s his (self appointed, you’d argue) job to make sure you’re in good health. and he’s very quickly picked up on the fact that learning to say no to you is the one and only lifeline keeping this relationship from drifting off into an irreversible spiral of spoiling you to no end.

in this particular instance, you approached him one morning with a poorly hidden agenda; the balcony door slid open as warmth from the apartment mingled with the chilly early morning breeze. aki was immersed in his newspaper and halfway through a cigarette when you’d spoken up, with the request to ‘have a taste’. he’d immediately said no and left you looking like a sad wet cat on the porch to make breakfast.

he’s regretting that decision thoroughly, now. you won’t stop bugging him, and even though he finds comfort in the sound of your voice, it’s the last thing he wants to hear right now. not because you’re annoying, but that he knows if you say his name in that tone a few more times he’ll fold.

“why not? you do it all the time! i just want to give it a try.” you sighed softly, tilting your head to the side as you lean against the cold marble of the kitchen counter, watching him wash dirty carrots. the vivid green leaves bob up and down beneath the pressure of the sink water as he scrubs them clean, before looking down at you.

“it rots your bones.”

“your bones are fine!”

“i already told you i’m not going to let you. just give it up, love.” he murmurs, turning his attention back to the vegetables in his hands. “cutting board, please.”

you oblige and lean over the counter, grabbing the wooden board from where it leans against the counter wall and hand it over to him. his hands are wet, so you don’t let go until you’re sure he has a firm grip on the board. he uses his other hand to turn the faucet off, droplets clinging to the reflective metal.

“aww, don’t be like that. what’s the harm in just one hit?” you protested, hauling yourself onto the countertop, legs dangling over the edge as your heels hit the cupboards. aki rolls his sleeves up again, revealing the pale bandages on his arms as he shakes the water clinging to his fingers off and grabs a knife and begins to cut into the carrots, dicing them up.

“don’t be stupid.” he scoffs, not looking at you. you watch his arm move up and down with each motion, the thud of the knife hitting the dull cutting board. "i always am." you grumbled under your breath, but he just ignores you.

“you know that’s not how it works. how do you even think people get addicted in the first place, [name]?” he murmurs, holding the carrots in place with two fingers on the leaves.

“it starts with one hit. just one cigarette. and then it turns into one pack, and then some.” he knows the process all too well.

you sigh forlornly, propping your elbows up on your knees and supporting your chin in your hands, kicking your feet in the air as you study the cozy kitchen. the potted plant you’ve been taking care of sits in the corner, tear-shaped leaves drooping beneath the shade of the cupboards. aki’s mug of cold coffee sits on the counter next to the sink, half full and calling your name. it’s the only thing he’s allowed you to be addicted to. and him, of course.

“you’re such a hypocrite.” you grumbled half-heartedly, rolling your eyes before letting your gaze drift to his profile again, studying the slight purse in his lips as he rests one palm over the blunt edge of the knife and cuts with the other one. you’ve always liked watching him cook; he’s good at it, and there’s something grounding in watching him sprinkle pepper and salt over a simmering pot of homecooked stew on a lazy weekend off.

he finally spares you a glance, peering at you through his dark lashes. his silvery blue eyes reflect a soft shine under the glow of the warm kitchen lights.

“i’m not.” he replies, nose wrinkling slightly as you grin in return and raise an eyebrow.

“sure. why don’t you prove it then, aki?” you challenged, leaning forward to stare down at him. even though you’re perched atop the counter, you’re still barely taller than him. not that you mind, though. you both know all of him belongs to you.

aki frowns, before shaking his head. “i don’t need to prove myself to you.” he mutters under his breath, giving you a resigned sigh. his topknot is messier than usual today; probably because you insisted on doing it for him.

he doesn’t even need to look at you to see the pout weighing on your lips; it shows through your voice when you speak again, as he dumps the carrot chunks into a plastic bowl and cleans his knife off on his apron.

“you’re no fun.” you complained, letting your hands fall to the edge of the marble as your fingers curl around the countertop. the sound of the city drifts in through the crack in the balcony door; the sound of trains whizzing by and the bustle of workers on their morning commute filters in through the breeze, a soundtrack to your morning. aki just bites his tongue and sighs.

you’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even notice him step away from the cutting board, dumping the carrot bits into a plastic container and leaving the knife behind on the wood to stand in front of you. your knees graze his middle as he reaches behind you, looking for something on the kitchen counter and your breath catches for a moment when he leans in—

until he pulls back again, a pack of cigarettes in his hand. one end of the box is torn, a hole where he taps his finger on the other end and a cigarette slides out, a bundle of drug and addiction. you're about to be excited when you notice the brand label on the blue cardboard— wild raven, the same one himeno smokes. you know it's petty to be upset over such a thing, but that doesn't stop you from pouting like a petulant child (again), crossing your arms over your chest and nudging his shin with your foot.

aki is observant; it's not like he doesn't notice this. he just ignores it in favor of searching for his lighter, leaning over you to reach the elevated shelf of the counter where he last left the lighter you gave him, decked with worn stickers that rubbed off and left papery residue over time. the material is cold against his hands as he rubs his thumb over the cap; the feeling is familiar.

he clears his throat and your attention snaps back to him, like a moth drawn to a lamp. his expression is unreadable, but you try your best to decipher it anyway. you're only able to catch a hint of uncertainty in the slight frown on his lips before he speaks again and you're distracted by his smooth voice.

"i'll make a compromise. come here," he murmurs, tapping his index finger against the film and coaxing a stick out. it slips from the box and he catches it between his fingers, tipping the lid off and thumbing the spark wheel absentmindedly. not enough to strike a flame by any means— but it's enough for fireworks to go off in your gut as you look up at him again and scoot closer on the counter.

"what are you going to do?" you asked curiously, eyeing the cancer stick as he rolls it between his fingers. it slides down his knuckles and he catches it between his middle and index finger, lighting the tip with one swift flick of the lighter.

"you'll see." he answers simply, tearing his gaze off the cigarette to look back at you again as he slots it between his lips. suddenly you're mesmerized; the only thing you can focus on is the curve of his lips and the way the cig balances between them. you hear him breathe in as he leans a little closer to you, standing between your knees as he slowly inhales.

you're mesmerized. there's always been this draw when it comes to aki— something you can't place but that you recognize to be alluring; right now, the only thoughts running through your mind aren't about the cigarette so tantalizing close within your reach like a forbidden apple, or the wet carrot chunks left unattended in the plastic strainer. the only thing on your mind is how close he is, and what he'd taste like if you kissed him right now.

unfortunately for you, there's a stick of paper and drugs blocking your path.

fortunately for you, aki seems to have read your mind.

in one swift motion, he takes his cigarette out his mouth and leans forward, using his free hand to tilt your chin up. he notices the way your lips part like it's muscle memory whenever his own lips are close— it makes him smile; a minuscule, amused twitch of his lips as he exhales the smoke into your mouth. it curls in mini storm clouds like some sort of deathly mouth to mouth, and aki's fingers gently press into your chin to make sure the smoke settles in nicely, trapped between two lovers in a haze.

and before you can even process what just happened, the sensation of his lips pushing hungrily against yours floods your brain, sending a jolt of tingling electricity down your spine as the blaring alarms going off in your brain from the unfamiliar sensation of the smoke are silenced.

a fire spreads through your veins like molten lead as he kisses you, a veil of smoke drifting into the air, curling and snaking about like an oriental dragon made of vapor. it's as if you've been burned by the cherry itself; your cheeks feel hot and you can feel aki's fingers tremble slightly as they find your face, his thumb barely brushing over your cheek gingerly it's as if the slightest hint of pressure might make you vanish into thin air. he tastes like rich coffee and sweet smoke, and something bitter.

you're acutely aware of the way his other arm snakes around your waist, trapping you against the cold marble counter as your teeth graze his bottom lip and his fingers curl into your side. it's something straight out of your wildest dreams until the smoke clogs your throat like cobwebs and you rapidly pull away, coughing as your eyes burn and you cover your mouth. a rare laugh escapes aki's lips, and you shoot him a glare, to which he only ignores, letting it burn away.

it takes you a moment to gather your thoughts as you stare up at his face, pleasantly dusted strawberry red under the glow of the kitchen lights, the tips of his ears pink with a crude mix of want and embarrassment.

"you could've given me a warning next time." is the only thing you're able to get out, the rest of your words dying on your tongue as you cough again to soothe the itch in your throat, rubbing your eyes as you sulk.

it's such a childish thing to do, and yet aki can't help but find it endearing. he's in over his head, and he knows it's far too late to turn back now.

he grabs the ashtray he keeps on the cluttered kitchen counter, smushing the glowing red cherry of the cigarette into the ashtray, extinguishing the life from the ash as it fizzles out, and your hopes go with it.

"wait— you're not gonna do it again?" he glances down at you, blue eyes sharp with a sour expression on his pretty face. it's like you squeezed lemon juice onto his tongue.

"no. like hell i'm letting you get away with more," he says firmly, shaking his head as he steps away from you again. he has a sixth sense for when you're about to complain, so he puts a hand over your mouth to stop the noise from escaping before you can start.

even with the way you're glaring daggers at him, just the fact that you can stand to look at him after he violated your personal space like that makes his chest constrict. it's as if his heart is trying to burrow out of his chest and find its way into your palm. he looks away again to hide the flush on his face.

even then, it was a mistake to keep his fingers over your mouth, because he can feel the very instant your lips curve into a soft, doting smile that only worsens this touchy predicament he's found himself in.

"pleeeeease, aki?" even though your voice is barely audible, it's too much, and you can tell. before he can even blink, he finds himself staring up at you with his chin on your chest and your fingers tangled in his hair, newly loose with his hairtie around your wrist. it would've been cute if not for the shit-eating grin on your smug face.

aki groans and hides his face in your shirt, reluctantly letting you pull him closer. as much as he'd like to ignore the effect you have on him and continue preparing a warm lunch for the two of you, his willpower has melted away like the wax on a candle, no fight left in him to protest as you press a kiss to the top of his head.

"you're too much." he grumbles irritably, voice muffled.

you only smile, and although he can't see it, he can hear it when you speak, and it makes his heart pound wildly between his rotting lungs.

"you love me." and he hates how you don't even realize just how right you are.

aki doesn't consider himself a hopeless romantic. but if there's one thing to ever be addicted to, you're it.

[fashionteahouse]

Can you do a Paul x reader where he’s working out and sending her snapchats the whole time and she’s supposed to be helping Emily make food but keeps getting distracted with his pictures

Had to throw these in there because why is he so fine?!?🫠

think ur trying to kill me 😭 jk jk <33

death of me - paul x reader

Leaning against the counter, you set the pot down on the stove.

A buzz vibrated next to you on the counter space. Glancing at it, you see the words glow up your screen.

Paul sent you a snap !

A finger pressed the screen, you unlock it to see what he could’ve sent. You’re curious to know since you don’t know what he’s up to at the moment.

You hold it down as you replayed his snap. You kept staring at what he sent you. You got another one right after. Grinning a bit, you tilt your head a little as you stared at the next one. You felt spoiled at that moment.

“Y/N.” she says to you. You look up.

“You didn’t turn the eye on.” she says as she turns is on. The bottom of the pot is now heating up and she looks at your hands and puts her own hands on her hips, “You told me you were going to help. You’re just on your phone.”

You set it down face down. But, you couldn’t help but pick it back up. She turns to grab a knife for the vegetables to be cut. You quickly type out.

“You’re going to need help cleaning that sweat off of you.”

You set your phone down just in time as Emily looked to you for assistance. She shakes her head slightly with a grin and says, “Who got you so distracted?”

“Nothing. I just seen a really funny post.” you say as you sliced open the vegetable in your hand.

“I wanna see. Show me.” she says as she looked hopeful.

“I..I lost it.”

“Bull.” she flatly says with a smirk.

You faintly heard the buzz again, but you helped her mince.

Walking over to the sink, you had enough time in that frame to check to see if Paul responded. After drying your hands, you seen that he did respond.

Another picture with a text.

“You sure you don’t want me to make your body drip next?”

Your breath hitched as your face gets hot.

“Okay, we need a large bowl. Y/N can you grab it?”

“Yeah.” you say in a monotonous tone. You didn’t move as your attention was still on your phone. Emily just walks over as she sees that you’re still at the same spot.

“Y/N. Unbelievable.” she says.

You jump a little at the close proximity of her voice and she gives you a knowing look.

“I should’ve known.”

“What?” you say trying to play innocent.

“You’re going back and forth with Paul. Of course you’re distracted.”

You grab the large bowel and follow her to the kitchen island. The phone buzzes again against the hardened material. She looks at you.

“I just want to see what else he sent me.” you say as you hold your phone up.

Emily just shakes her head with a small laugh.

“Let’s just finish this up first, please. Then you can have all the Paul time you want.” she says.

“Alright, alright.” you agree and set the phone down.

You start to mix and the anticipation was killing you. You barely paid attention to what she was saying.

When she wasn’t looking, you slid your phone into your pocket.

“Did you hear me?” she asks as she waits for a response that doesn’t come.

“I have to use the bathroom.” you tell her and you knew that she knew that you didn’t to use it. You still made your way to the bathroom, pulling out your phone as soon as the door was closed.

You click on the snap and sees that he texted you with a video this time.

“Finishing up and I’ll be home after this.”

You sigh a little, texting him your own response.

“You’re going to be the death of me”

[dearramiel]

𝐓𝐚𝐠, 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐈𝐭 | 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

✧ - fluff in the beginning of the story, will eventually get dark, undertones of off setting steve, he's kinda stalking her in the beginning, anxiety/paranoia, steve is 28, reader is at least 21, yes I want to be steve's housewife(a lot of those undertones are present throughout the story so steve has a housewife kink), we listen to stevie nicks and honestly it was by pure coincidence, domestic vibes,

You look beautiful..

In that cute little dress, you'd make the prettiest housewife in town, if you'd just let him in. But all he can do is look, as you walk down the driveway of your house, a little empty basket on your arm. He figures that you're running Saturday morning errands. He shuts the blinds of his window, quickly running out of his own house.

"Y/n!" His voice calls out to you, you whip your head around and spot Steve Harrington jogging towards you, car keys in hand. The rattling of his keys come to an end when he catches up to you.

"Steve, Good morning!" You greet, your voice melting his insides.

"Morning, Sweetheart." He says, trying to ease his nerves when he notices the visible reddening on your face, or the way your smile gets bigger.

"Heading out to the markets?" Steve asks, to which you nod.

"I need to pick some stuff up for dinner today." You reply.

"In that little thing?" He motions to the basket.

"Well I'm only making something for myself, my mom and dad are out on vacation.." You giggle, "Unless, you want to join me?"

The older male is a little shocked, is that even a question?

"I don't wanna bother, but I also wouldn't want a little lady like you to be all alone." He grins. "How about I drive you there?"

The next two hours were spent with you trying to politely decline Steve paying for your groceries. You couldn't deny what it made you feel. You felt like you and him were together, walking around the market places as you picked fresh vegetables and canned goods, shoulders bumping by accident, accidentally brushing your fingers against his, even eying a dress.

All which Steve noticed, encouraging you to try them on in a makeshift dressing room that looked to be an extra storage room, mirrors in place where you could twirl in the dress. After deciding on a couple, you step out, showing Steve who was sat on a chair.

"What do we think?" You say, "it's a little long but maybe I'll grow into it." You joke. Steve doesn't speak for a solid second or two, his heart is racing because you look gorgeous.

"I think you look amazing. You should definitely get it." He smiled, looking at how it hugged your upper body, hoping one day he would see underneath.

"There's another, but I'll save it for later." You say, twirling another time to really show him everything. And again, he's nearly speechless.

"I'll be back." You say, going into the room to change back into your own dress. Carefully untying the little bow, blushing when you remember Steve's face.

Once out, you see Steve with the old lady, the owner of the shop. He's smiling to her as he gently pushes her hands full of change back to her, where she then bows her head to him, smiling ever so gratefully. The act is enough to make your pulse pick up, she hands him a bag big enough to fit the articles of clothing on your arm.

Steve noticed you close the door of the dressing room. "Here." He opens the bag, to which you then put everything in.

"You didn't have to, you know ..pay for it.." you say, feeling bad that he's practically been spoiling you all day. You weren't fortunate to have the money he did, and you definitely didn't want to make it look like you were trying to take advantage of his generosity. Most of what you did have was hard earned money coming from your parents, the house you lived in from your grandparents. It's why you pushed them to take a vacation for themselves.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it, besides, I think that little dinner will make up for it." He suggests, a sweet smile on his face. You return it.

"Well, thank you for doing this." You play with your fingers, forgetting that he's holding everything. And he doesn't mind because it plays more into his fantasy.

"It's really not a problem."

It's 12 p.m by the time you get back home, Steve has walked you to your front steps, promising to stop by at 6:30 for dinner with you. The thought has you excited, almost throwing yourself into the shower before remembering that you already had, prior to stepping out.

After the excitement settles down, you realize that an unsettling feeling begins to wash over you. Being alone in a big house comes with perks like those, paranoia.

It leaves you feeling unnerved, and it's hard to shake off. It's not the first time you've felt this way, but it's also never been so intense.

You figure that the only way to ease the tension that begins to weigh down on your shoulders is by putting a vinyl into its player. A sense of relief comes down as Stevie Nicks plays throughout the living room, spilling into the kitchen. It helps just enough that you're able to focus on what you want to make, especially now that you want to impress Steve.

You settle on spaghetti and meatballs, after that, a pie to go as dessert.

1:00 p.m. becomes 2 p.m., which becomes 3 p.m., 4 p.m, and then 5:30 p.m, cleaning, cooking, and baking had you distracted, you wash your hands before quickly rushing upstairs to your room, bag in hand, the dresses Steve had bought you now on your bed. You figured that wearing the one he hadn't seen you in would be perfect.

You weren't sure why you were trying to impress Steve, maybe it was the growing crush you had on him, whatever it was, it began to make you feel a little insecure. Trying to live up to his standards, he was known to have any woman wanted, and they were usually really pretty.

You shake away your nagging and negative thoughts, choosing to put on very light makeup, a little bit of eyeliner, lipstick, blush, and eyeshadow, going for a natural look.

You slip out of your dress, embarrassed as you think about also changing your undergarments. It's not like Steve would see you in your underwear anyway.

But.. just in case...

You pick out a matching white lace bra and panties set, then slipping the dress on. You button up the dress, until you reach the last two buttons, leaving a very visible sight for your cleavage. Your chest on display, collarbone showing. Your hair is simple, a low messy bun with some loose hair scattered everywhere aside from your face. By the time your done, it's barely 6:15 p.m, giving you 15 minutes to yourself. With those spared minutes, you slip into your black flats, hanging the other dress in your closet, walking to the kitchen, serving two plates of food, two cups of water, and taking the pie out of the oven, setting it on the counter for it to cool off.

Setting the plates and cups on the table, you're finally done.

Then the ring of the doorbell has your heart jumping out of your chest. You smile and pat down your dress, quickly rushing to the door, opening it swiftly, face heating up when you see him.

Steve Harrington in a suit, holding roses in one hand, the other in his pocket, and you can tell that he's nervous.

He's not moving, stuck in a trance as he looks at the dress you're wearing, down to your legs, before looking back up to your face. An innocent smile on your pink lips, Steve finally moves.

"Hey Sweetheart."

[theladyofdeath]

Lady Death's Lover {VII}

Lady Death's Lover Masterlist & Summary

19th Century Period AU Nesta x Cassian Secret Affair / Enemies to Lovers / Forbidden Romance Fanfiction / Characters from Sarah J Maas / ACOTAR B ased on a prompt sent in by anonymous

A/N: I meant to post this, like, a week ago...but I have to admit that I've been pretty down lately. It's not been a good mental health week. I apologize for the delay! Now that the school year is in full swing, I may only be posting one chapter a week instead of two. Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you continue to enjoy! x

TW: marital abuse, sexual content, language, depression, alcohol abuse

This story is for readers 18+. Mature readers only. Content should not be read by anyone under 18.

Dear Gwyn,

Emerie and I missed you this last tea. She told me all about her recent travels and now we must wait to hear all about yours once you return. Selfishly, I am glad you will not be gone for long. I swear, I am living vicariously through you and Emerie. I absolutely adore hearing about all the two of you see and do beyond the borders of Velaris. I will not spoil all that Emerie told me for I am certain you wish for her to tell you herself.

I will, however, briefly mention something that I shared. In all honesty, I’m a bit embarrassed about it. No one will ever know about it with the exception of the two of you. There is…a man. This man keeps popping into my mind and just yesterday he popped into my carriage as well. Although, I believe I am to blame for that. It was storming and I offered him shelter. However, that is not the issue. The issue is that, on multiple occasions now, I have felt towards this man. I do not need to tell you how troubling that is. 

I have not acted on these feelings, of course, but when he is near I lose all sense of myself and my duties. It seems silly. I do not know him, not truly. Perhaps I am simply lonely and find him handsome, that is all. At least, I hope that is all. 

Please burn this letter once you have read it and write back soon.

With love,

Nesta

Nesta

The sun is shining and the air is warm but I am absolutely miserable. I have been dragged to yet another social dinner alongside my husband. I am on his arm pretending to be the most loyal, loving wife, but inside I am raging. I feel like a caged animal ready to attack, only my target is my husband and that will simply not do.

Apparently, such thoughts are frowned upon.

Unsure of what this dinner is actually for, my mind has already become vacant once we reach our chairs. We are seated across from a few of Tomas’ business partners and their wives, high ranking members of the ton like ourselves. I let the men talk and for once I am grateful for it. If we women were to talk, I would have nothing kind to say to these women. In fact, I would surely say something to them that would get me smacked by the man on my arm.

My husband has never liked my sharp tongue. I figured that out quite quickly. 

It had been less than twenty-four hours into our marriage, the morning after our wedding, our consummation, when he first struck me. He entered my bedchamber and was appalled that I was still nude from the night before. I asked him why he did not like my body, while he was ashamed of my nakedness when it was he that stripped me bare the night before. His response was to throw a nightgown at me and tell me to cover up. He said that no woman should be bare in daylight that is not a whore.

I refused to put the gown on.

And then he hit me.

From that moment, not even twenty-four hours after we had said our vows, I knew my marriage would never be one full of love. 

We eat and the food is decent. The roasted chicken is flavorful and the vegetables have just enough crunch to be satisfying. Tomas does not allow me to drink the wine, but I long for it, just to help me get through the evening until I am safely alone in my room once more with only the company of a good book. 

Unable to make eye contact with the women across from me, my gaze drifts further down the table and my breathing halts. 

I hadn’t even realized he was here. I was so deep within my own thoughts and misery that I hadn’t taken account of who else was present with the exception of those seated across from us. He must have arrived after we did.

As if he can feel my eyes on him, his eyes swivel to mine. 

Lord Cassian is dressed in all his finery and it suits him, strangely. He is always dressed finely, but I still imagine him as a man that is naturally a bit unkempt. I would like to see that version of him.

I give him a polite nod.

He returns the gesture. 

I turn to Tomas to see if he notices my distraction but he is in an enthusiastic conversation with the man beside him — a man whose name I’ve forgotten. He must be important for some reason. 

I try not to look back at Cassian, I truly do, but I can feel him staring. My thoughts drift back to our time in my carriage. Although the ride was short, there was more excitement in that ride than I’ve had with any man in years. Thankfully we arrived at his home before anything could have happened.

And I fear that if the ride had continued any longer, something would have happened. I know such a thing is blasphemy, but I cannot help but wonder what it would be like.

To be ravished by a man like Lord Cassian. 

I look at him once more. His jaw is hard, his eyes dark, as if he knows the thoughts that are running through my mind. I reach for my glass of wine before I remember I do not have one, that my husband does not trust me to drink. 

Realizing I’ve been locking eyes with a lord who is not my husband for far too long, I focus on my empty plate. Still, I can feel his gaze linger, can feel his eyes roaming my body, begging me to look his way. I do not, can not.

Suddenly, I feel like I cannot breathe. The room has grown too hot and I feel as if I am suffocating. Luckily, everyone around the table has begun to rise. I believe the owner of this home, whoever he is, has offered to show everyone something he deems extravagant. Tomas tells me to stay with the other ladies while he goes off to see this extravagant piece of uselessness and leaves me be.

I take the opportunity to get far, far away. 

After sneaking through multiple winding hallways, I find myself outside and in the gardens. The early evening air is cool and welcoming as the sun begins its descent. I immediately find peace in the silence.

The silence evaporates too quickly. 

“Lady Nesta, are you alright?”

I spin around to see, of course, Lord Cassian. He’s standing casually, with his hands clasped behind his back. He’s not smiling. In fact, he looks concerned. 

“Yes, of course,” I reply, trying my best to remain unaffected. “You should return to the party.”

“The men have gone to see Lord Kallias’ new hunting trophies.” He shrugs and I want to laugh at how informal he seems. “I do not care to see such things. I care more to see how you are faring after looking so miserable for the past hour.” 

I snort. “And here I thought I was good at hiding my emotions.”

“You are,” he says, with no hesitation. “I may have been paying more attention than the others.”

I’m blushing.

I hate myself for blushing. 

Suddenly, I can feel his hand on my knee, my hand on his. I was foolish for touching him, for asking what I was about to ask that day in the carriage, but I find it hard to find regret.

I clear my throat. “I see.” 

He takes a step toward me, then another, and I’m frozen in place. 

“You should really go back inside, my lord,” I say, my hands drawing into fists at my sides to keep me grounded. “This is…”

“Inappropriate?” he supplies, stopping a mere foot away. “I mean nothing untoward. Besides, you and I were alone in your carriage just the other day and I do not recall you thinking that inappropriate.”

That may be true, but it quickly grew inappropriate once I wanted to rip off his clothes and mount him on the velvet bench. 

Wonderful. Now that’s all I’m thinking about. 

“I have changed my mind,” I say, quickly. “That and this are both inappropriate. Good day, my lord.”

He doesn’t move. 

“I came out here to be alone,” I add. 

He still doesn’t move.

Just as I’m about to yell at him, he says, ever-so-calmly, “He does not cherish you as he should.”

My back goes rigid. “Pardon me?”

“Your husband,” he says, as if he has any right to what he’s saying, as if it’s not blasphemy to be speaking to a married woman this way. “He does not cherish you. The entire dinner, he looked at you once, and the look he gave you was the same as if he was scolding a child.” 

Anger fuels me. There must be a certain level of arrogance to make a man say such a thing. My shock-filled anger must show because he shrugs.

Shrugs.

“I apologize if you do not care for my opinion,” he says, “but I have never been one to hold my tongue.”

I cannot breathe. “You know not of what you speak.”  

"And what is that?" he asks, that smirk remaining. "The truth? I know very well that I speak the truth. It is you that does not want to accept it." 

My jaw aches from how hard it’s clenching. “I believe you are drunk, my lord.”

My hostile tone doesn’t sway him. In fact, it makes his eyes grow brighter. He thinks I’m joking. He must, or he wouldn’t be this ignorant. 

“I may not be sober,” he confesses. “Although, I am far from drunk. Do I look drunk?”

No, he does not, but some people have a certain skill set for hiding their inebriation. Yet, he remains the perfect picture of a gentleman. 

“Leave,” I order, and when he does not, I add, “Please. Do not make me beg.” 

He does not falter. “I would not mind making you beg, Lady Nesta.”

I ignore the way my cheeks heat. “Lady Mandray is what you should refer to me as.”

“Is that the name you truly prefer?” he asks, and that humor dims, if only a little. He’s standing so close to me now that his scent is strong, overpowering me. Mint, with a hint of tobacco. “If so, it is what I will call you, but I fear you prefer Lady Nesta. Perhaps even just, simply, Nesta.” 

Honestly, I’m surprised I’ve been able to control myself for this long. “You must stop speaking to me as if you know me,” I snap. “We do not know each other. You are no friend of mine. The way you are speaking to me is distasteful to say the least. I have never had to endure such an absurd conversation, much less from a member of high society. You should be ashamed of yourself, my lord, to embarrass yourself in front of a lady, to act a fool. If you will not leave me alone, then I shall leave you be.”

I go to take a step around him, but he steps in my path and our bodies nearly collide. 

It’s annoying how he has a habit of doing that.

“Should I scream?” I whisper. It’s meant to be a threat, but my body feels like it’s on fire. “Cry out for help?”

“I have no intention of harming you,” he says, taken aback, as if the idea is ludicrous. I nearly feel bad for insinuating such a thing.

“No,” I say, and I mean it. “I know you would not.” 

He swallows, and neither of us move.

“I will leave you alone,” he says, and his voice is low, reaching my very core. I can feel his breath on my face, the warmth, smelling like expensive red wine. “I apologize if I have overstepped. And you are right. I do not know you, not well, but I have seen glimpses of who you are and that woman is very different from the woman who I saw sitting at that dinner table, next to a man she seems to loathe. I know you well enough to know that you deserve better than a loveless marriage. That is all.” 

“My lord—”

“Fogive me,” he breathes, and he sways forward as my breath catches. 

I called him a fool but it is I who is the fool. I am foolish for wanting this man to kiss me, to touch me, to sweep me into his arms and make me feel something. 

“There is nothing to forgive,” I say, and look from his welcoming lips to his eyes that are watching me so intently that I feel completely nude. 

He leans in closer and the panic sets in.

“I am sorry,” I say, and my voice sounds pathetically broken. “I must go back before Tomas returns.”

As much as I wish to have this moment, long to have this moment, I cannot endure Tomas’ wrath nor can I bear to embarass both myself and my husband before all these guests. I may be foolish, but I am not that foolish. 

Not now, not yet.

One look at me and Lord Cassian nods. There is no judgment in his gaze, there is only understanding.

This time, he bows, and meets my eyes once more before walking away.

“Goodbye, Nesta.”

I do not breathe again until he is completely out of sight. 

[lnights]

Late Night Call Prompts: “Your last emergency call was you crying over not having any more sweets at your place, so excuse me for being distrustful.” + Joonas/Niko pls 🥰

Thanks for the ask 🖤

Porko: Niko

Porko: Niko

Porko: NIKO

Porko: ANSWER YOUR PHONE GODDAMNIT

Porko: IT'S AN EMERGENCY

Niko groaned as his phone started to ring, putting down the knife he had been using to chop vegetables for dinner.

“What's up Joonas?” He asked as he answered.

“Why weren't you answering!?” Joonas demanded, “I said it was an emergency!”

Niko snorted, "Your last emergency call was you crying over not having any more sweets at your place, so excuse me for being distrustful.”

“That was important!” Joonas told him, “I was in the middle of making a mug cake, I was out of sugar, and couldn't find anything to make it sweet!”

“Why were you making a mug cake at 1 in the morning anyway?” Niko asked.

“I wanted something warm and sweet and that's not the point!” Joonas said, “I need your help.”

“With what?” Niko asked.

Joonas sighed a long drawn out breath, “I just…” he trailed off.

“Joonas?” Niko frowned, the hesitation wasn't normal for his friend.

“I got stood up.” He said quietly, “waited at the restaurant for over an hour before I finally went home,” he gave a small little laugh, “kind of pathetic huh? I guess it really wasn't an emergency though, I was just feeling down and lonely, I probably shouldn't have bothered you-”

“Come over,” Niko said quickly, “I'm making dinner and I'll have more than enough.”

“I don't want to impose-”

“You're not,” Niko assured him, “come over, we’ll have dinner, watch a movie, and complain about bad dates.”

Joonas laughed, “ok, I'll be there soon.”

Niko smiled as he hung up and grabbed another piece of fish from the fridge, getting back to cooking with new vigor.

…

“I just want someone who shows up,” Joonas complained between bites of dinner, “is that too much to ask?”

“Not at all,” Niko agreed, “you deserve to have someone show up for you.”

“I don't know why I let my friends set me up on blind dates,” Joonas sighed, “I already told my friend what happened and she felt bad, I felt bad… it's just not worth it at all.”

“Online dating?” Niko suggested

Joonas snorted, “been there, done that. Nope, I guess for now I'll just give up on dating. I mean, I want someone who's there for me, who wants to travel and explore or just have a nice dinner and movie at home.”

“Sounds a lot like what we do,” Niko observed, a small spark of something he couldn't identify in his chest.

“Yeah,” Joonas laughed, “too bad you're not into men, you'd be my dream guy.”

“Yeah,” Niko gave a small laugh, he had never dated a man, Joonas was right about that.

So why did the thought of taking Joonas out on a date, spoiling him the way he deserved, make him feel all warm?

He would have to try to figure it out later; Joonas was there at the moment and that's all that mattered.

[0asisbliss]

Okay, so si saw ypu were doing dark content now but i get if this is too dark

Could you do Present mic or Aizawa (or both) reacting to their daughter attempting to take her own life?

Thanks 💕

A/N: I uploaded this once, and it wasn’t even finished sorry again. Sorry for any spelling errors.

Warnings: Reader is quirkless, Self harm, blood, and general dark themes. MDNI.

You were sick of everything. You wanted nothing more than to have a peace of mind. It was exhausting school, toxic relationships, and your dad. Your dad was always there, but he has a lot on his plate.

“Maybe it would be better if I weren’t here?” You thought to yourself.

You got home from school. You steadily started to pack your bags. Aizawa was out on patrols, and you were home alone. You were a burden. He was always doing things for you, and preparing things just so you could be happy.

Even sacrificing his own happiness just to see you smile. And another thing. Why were you so ungrateful? So spoiled? You surely needed to leave. You were also quirkless. That made you utterly useless. You couldn’t do anything to make him proud other than get good grades.

Once all you had were packed you opened the door to your room to depart. You suddenly stopped and looked back at your room. Tears started to well at your eyes.

You didn’t want to you leave you just wanted didn’t want to be sad anymore, you were tired. Tired as in you were tired of life. Not wanting to do anything any longer. You dropped your bags and trailed into the kitchen.

You grabbed one of the sharpest kitchen knifes it was one of the knifes Aizawa used regularly for cutting vegetables. You went back to your room and dropped to the floor.

Pondering on whether or not you should do the plan you set for yourself. You had the knife in one of your hands. You took one final look in the mirror at yourself and you felt disgusted. Why did you look like this when you cried? So filthy. Your not even deserving of tears.

Aizawa was arriving home early because of no sightings of criminal activity. He went by one of your favorite restaurants to get food for you two since he was coming home late, and also since he didn’t cook any dinner.

You sat there crying for another good hour, and then you finally decided to set aside your feelings and let the your negative thoughts take over.

You took the knife towards your wrist first, and slit yourself. You winched at the pain, but it felt deserving. You finally did it. You’re now a lowly human. You took the knife, and slit your self a couple more times up your arm before you finally looked at your throat in the mirror. You were to distracted by your arm to notice keys jing-aling, and footsteps.

“What the hell are you doing [name]?” You could hear his voice crack as you saw the tears start to form at the corner of his eyes.

“I-I’m sorry I was just-.” You stumbled upon your words as you tried to explain your reasons for the situation.

“Fuck, your arm.” He quickly grabbed a shirt that was close to the both of you, and covered your bleeding arm. His worried expression was enough for tears to roll down your eyes once more.

He sat bedside you on the floor, and grabbed you by the waist pulling you tight into his embrace.

“Dad? Dad I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.” You sobbed into his chest.

“Shhh.. shh. It’s okay honey I’m not mad.”

You were his sweetheart. You’re his reason to even get up in the morning it hurt him more than anything to see you like this. And he’ll prevent it from happening ever again.

[applepiesupreme]

American Apple Pie

Pairing: Low/Mid Honor Arthur Morgan and female OC.

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Savigne Ricci is a temporary guest at the Van der Linde camp. Her path crosses with the enforcer of the gang, Arthur Morgan, and despite their differences, a relationship develops between them. Whole lot of smut and fluff, slow burn-ish.

AOC link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54945853/chapters/146337121

Chapter 23

Antoine's was renovating and they were supposed to be closed for five to seven days, depending on how the construction went. 

Savigne decided, no better time to get rich.

The restaurant allowed them to prepare and store their own meals if they used their own ingredients and most people used that offer to make themselves lunch or dinner for their breaks. She did, too, but now she took out the pizza dough balls she had left to cold marinate ahead of time so they can warm up by the time she arrived at camp. Chef Ecco sauntered over, curious what she was doing and nearly lost his god damn mind when he saw she had prepared pizza dough, praising her to high heaven and exchanging recipes with what he thought was the best dough and best pizza recipe. He shared with her the shops he acquired his cheese from, then even gave her a pizza peel from the kitchen as a gift. 

Ruth and her flock watched from a distance with scowls and Savigne basked in their disapproval.

She went to the open market in Saint Denis to shop for ingredients, strolling around, sniffing and tasting the vegetables, cheese and spices. It was no Grand Bazaar but Saint Denis was becoming more metropolitan by the week and she was impressed with the new, “exotic” food that was sprouting in the market.  

When she arrived in camp it was early afternoon, most folks were out to do whatever they did during the day, so she prepared the fire for the oven – it needed to be very hot for the pizza - and changed into comfortable clothes. 

She prepared the sauce and the toppings, then poured herself a glass of wine and sat at the table, watching the water. Mary Beth came over and Savigne poured her a glass, too. Mary Beth shared the story of the latest novel she was reading and she listened.

“That makes no sense.” 

“What makes no sense?” Mary Beth asked. 

“The man’s too perfect.”

“That’s the point” was the amused reply.

“No I mean it’s not realistic. He’s gorgeous. Strong. Clever. Rich. And a gentleman. And apparently also…you know…a great…lover,” Savigne concluded.

“And?”

“And – so he’s too perfect.”

“Ya saying men like that don’t exist?” Mary Beth grinned. 

“Have you ever met one? I know I haven’t.”

“Haven’t you?” was the teasing question.

“Are you trying to say that Arthur is perfect?” Savigne snorted. “Or that I am?”

“Perfection is boring," Mary Beth shrugged. "Besides, you’re perfect for each other, no?” Savigne shrugged. “Perfect” wasn’t the word she would use, but she had to admit that this was a relationship that should have failed and yet somehow didn’t. Who knew that she could fall into co-habitation with someone this easily, this comfortably? And someone like Arthur, too! Nobody would argue that both of them were difficult people to be around and yet, bizarrely it somehow worked. 

“You know how many bets I won thanks to you guys?” was Mary Beth’s gloating question.

“Bets?!”

“That’s right. Folks around here don’t understand you the way I do,” Mary Beth sighed. Savigne rolled her eyes. “Hey now, don't underestimate me. Ain't I the one who knew before either one of you did?”

“Hmmmmm…What else do you know, oh sage one?”

“I know the man is ensnared," Mary Beth pursed her lips, her eyes shifting to the oven. “Getting him hooked up proper, are we?”

“Why? Because I cook?” Savigne laughed. “It’s just food, what’s the big deal?”

“Just food,” she mumbled teasingly. “I don’t think Arthur has ever been spoiled like this before. It's not that you cook, it's that you cook for him.” She paused for a moment, then quickly retrieved her notebook to scribble in it. "Need to use this in my novel."

"You're writing a novel?"

"I am," she said smugly. "You're craftier than you look, you know. Maybe I should get some pointers from you."

“Right,” Savigne huffed, secretly pleased. “All I do is cook dinner. Happens to be my job anyway. You could even call it self-serving practice.”

The other woman hummed with a smirk. “Ain’t just dinner. It’s being cared for that he’s addicted to.”

“Not going to apologize for that!” Savigne mumbled, but her grin grew just a little wider. 

They watched Arthur arrive at camp and stroll over to talk to Dutch. Mary Beth drank the rest of her wine, gave her a knowing look and left. 

Savigne saw him walk over a few minutes later, eyeing the ingredients on the table. She got up and came around to hug him and kiss him on the cheek - a ritual she still stubbornly followed and he still stubbornly endured.

"You cookin' dinner?"

"Only if you're hungry," she said lightly. He grunted in affirmation and went to wash the sweat and dust off his hands and face.

She quickly flattened a ball of dough on the peel, spread the sauce, added the ingredients and pushed it into the hot oven. Few minutes later she placed it on the wood vegetable chopping block, cut it by pressing her palm on the spine of the knife and slapped his hand away. 

“You just watched me pull it out of the oven. It’s hot. Give it a minute.”

He grumbled a little and poured himself a shot of whiskey. She adjusted the corners of his napkin just so. “How was your day?”

“Fine.”

He finally noticed the side-eye she was giving him as he was staring at the steaming pie and took the cue: “Yours?”

“Glad you asked!” she started with enthusiasm. “Antoine’s is renovating. So I’m going to have a few days off.”

She slid the chopping block over and announced: "Pizza Margarita from Italy! Bon appétit!"

“So I was thinking…” she said, getting up to prepare the next pie on the peel, “…we can do something. If you have the time.”

By the time she sat down he had already eaten half of it. She knew that expression on his face and smiled with satisfaction. “Good, huh?”

“It’s from Italy, course it’s good,” he shrugged, grinning at his own cleverness. 

She pulled out the second pie, cut it and put it on a separate plate. He eyed the plate with some resentment as she took it to Jack.

When she returned, to nobody's surprise, he was finished. 

She sat down and sipped her wine. 

"That it?" He was looking the rest of the dough balls. 

“Do you have the time to do something together?”

“I got time,” he admitted carefully, possibly already guessing where this was heading.

Satisfied, she jumped up to make the next pie. Her fingers, quick and nimble with practice threw on the ingredients and slid the pie into the oven with the peel. 

She sat back down as he served himself another shot of whiskey. 

"We can...I don't know...go to Strawberry."

He gave her a look. “Lemme guess…ya wanna go treasure huntin’.”

She slid the second pie onto the block, cut it, then snatched it from his grasp. “You’re going to burn your tongue, wait a minute, Jesus!” She sat back down and sipped her wine. “And yes, that’s the idea.”

“Savigne…” he started, exasperated, but before he could say more Jack ran over and asked if there was more. 

"How the hell did ya eat that whole pie so fast?" Arthur protested and she rolled her eyes at the irony. Jack admitted that his mom and dad had each taken a slice, too. Arthur grumbled darkly at that. She pushed the block in front of him and prepared the next one while the two of them argued. 

"Five minutes, Jack. Did you like it?" 

“I loved it!”

"Can't have loved it if ya gave it away," muttered Arthur as he chewed. 

"Don't listen to him.” she quipped. She cut the next pie and placed it on his plate. "Be careful, it's hot." He ambled away carefully. 

She sat back down to sip her wine and met his gaze. 

"Well what about me?" 

"You had two pies," she teased. 

He glanced at the last ball of dough. "You want me to take ya, that it?”

“Pffft. I want to know if you’re coming along,” she said as she got up to prepare the pie. After she slid it into the oven: “I’m going either way. It’ll be an adventure.”

“That so?” he said, eyebrows raised as he poured himself another shot. 

“That so,” she confirmed, pulling out the pizza a few minutes later and sliding it on the chopping block. "I can do everything on my own just fine, thank you very much," she added as she cut the pie.

He was clever and waited until it was pushed in front of him before he said “Y’ain’t goin’ alone." 

"Don't tell me what to do!" Savigne growled with some heat.

He was expecting that and there was clear amusement to his tone when he spoke over the chewing. "Or what?"

"Or I'll do it," she grumbled, taking another mouthful of wine. 

He finished his pie, drank the rest of his shot, pushed the empty block aside and put his elbows on the table, leaning in.

"Well then," he sighed, his eyes twinkling, "I might have to…you know…punish ya." He watched the red blotches blooming on her cheeks. “Think yer overdue for a lesson.”

“Thanks to you we can never go back to the bath in Valentine!” she hissed. “I’m pretty sure the entire hotel heard us.”

“Course we goin’ back,” he grinned, leaning back in his chair and pulling out a cigarette. “And wasn’t us they heard, was you.”

"I wasn't there by myself, was I?"

"I got no problem with it," he shrugged smugly. 

She ran her palms over her face, annoyed how quickly and violently she blushed. Also annoyed how pleased he was with himself. Arthur had strutted out to the lobby that day like he had conquered Rome while she had run straight for the exit, not even attempting to pay the bill that week, mumbling that she was going to retrieve the horses.

“God, I can never look Bill in the face again,” she whined.

“The man works in a hotel,” he drawled. “‘M sure he’s used to it. ‘Sides…I liked it.”

"You know what - we’re doing separate baths from now on."

He hummed to himself, inhaling the smoke. "Ya actually think a door's gonna stop me," he mused, leaning on the table, the muscles in his wide shoulders rounding up. 

"You wouldn't dare.” He just chortled at her disbelief. "I think you're missing the bedroll, Mr Morgan.”

"That how you treat yer guide?”

A smile bloomed on her face. “So we’re going?”

He sighed. “Reckon findin' a pile of rocks gonna spare me years of naggin’.”

This stumped her because it implied that he thought they would be together for years to come. It’s just a figure of speech you fool, she mused and it was, but that didn’t matter much to her heart. 

She lied awake for a long time thinking on that, annoyed that her mind would start writing an epic novel because a few uttered words but unable to stop it. What would life be outside the gang with Arthur? What could a man like that do? He was good with horses, she thought, he could breed horses. Or maybe train them. He was good with a lot of animals, so maybe he could be a rancher. Or - twist of fate - bounty hunter. She scratched that possibility off the list. Too dangerous. Farmer? No, didn't seem fitting. It was hard to imagine him outside of his current environment, as if being an outlaw was part of his identity and this life was his natural habitat. What if he missed the social interaction with the gang? Sure, they had a fine time now but that's because he still had that. Removing the gang would rob him of all his friends and family and she couldn't picture him enjoying life without all that. Then again, he did enjoy solitude in nature, didn't he? Maybe he was more of a loner than she assumed. 

She jumped when he spoke up. "What ya cookin' in yer head?"

"I'm just excited," she said, irritated how much of a light sleeper he was and how, even with his back turned, he always knew when she was awake. "I'm going to be rich tomorrow."

He turned to face her and shifted closer. "Might have to rob ya then," he whispered.

"What if we really find a treasure?" she said more seriously a while later. We could do anything we wanted. We could both just pack up and go away. Start somewhere new. Together. She thought on how to ask these things and couldn't make the words come out. 

"I'll eat my hat, tell ya that," he mumbled sleepily. 

"Wouldn't mind seeing that" she sighed and settled into his chest before she drifted off.

The next morning they set out early. It was a long ride to Strawberry and they wanted to arrive before they lost the daylight. Arthur watched with fascination as Savigne whipped out a list and rattled off all the items she had decided they needed. He shot down half of them saying they're not traveling to Canada and there are towns in between, also game to shoot. There were some things on the list he just listened to incredulously like "extra matches, extra soap, extra boots, extra sling in case Cricket's basket sling got ripped etc" and dissuaded her only by reminding her how much Cricket would suffer under this "extra" weight and added that this was not how adventures worked. She relented. 

She prepared the horses as Dutch called him over, saying there is a job he needs Arthur to be on and when Arthur said that he will take care of it when he returns, Dutch’s eyes sought out and blazed at Savigne as if she had said it. She took some satisfaction in that.

They trotted out in the brisk morning air and she was unreasonably excited. 

"You know, this is my first time doing anything in the countryside," she remarked. "Are we going to camp under the stars?"

"Course we are," he said from ahead, "or was you aiming for a hotel, Princess?"

"I prefer the camping."

"Won' be glamorous, I tell ya that," Arthur grunted, sounding unsure what she was so excited about. 

"That's the point," she quipped. 

He waited patiently as she stopped several times to watch animals through her binoculars and then wanted to get off to look at some flowers she hadn't seen before. 

Overall it was a pleasant ride, cool and relaxed. There was a lady by the road who needed help and Savigne gave him a questioning look but he rode on as if she wasn't there and later said that she's always there and it's an ambush. This sobered her a little to dangers she wasn't aware of and she was glad he was with her.

Late afternoon they arrived to the outskirts of Strawberry but instead of heading into town, Arthur aimed north and a mile or so out said they needed to rest the horses by a stream. He told her not to go too far, that there were wolves and cougars around and Savigne didn't need to be told twice. 

An hour after they broke rest they arrived at a hill and for the first time she saw the three rock formations in the distance, reaching to the sky. 

Unfortunately her good mood turned when they arrived to the foot of a bridge. Arthur went right over it with Frost and she lingered behind, preparing. On the other side he noticed she wasn't following and came back. 

"What's the matter?"

"I need to prepare," she told him, locating her blindfold. 

"For?"

"Crossing the bridge."

He watched her put the blindfold on. "The hell ya doin'?"

She pulled it off, exasperated. "Why don't you go ahead, Arthur, I'll be there in a few minutes."

He didn't move, intrigued. She put the blindfold back on, arranged it just so and took a couple of deep breaths. 

She was about to lean over Cricket's neck when he spoke up, startling her: "Savigne, y'afraid of heights?"

"So what if I am?" she said, frustrated and pulled down her blindfold again. 

"Nothing," he said, his voice somewhat softer. "Just didn' know.'"

"You go ahead," she said, "Cricket will take me over, he knows what to do."

He looked like he was going to argue, then decided against it and left. She swallowed, tightened the blindfold and leaned over Cricket's neck, whispering for him to go. She felt him walking, slow and easy. The timbre of his hoof beats changed as they mounted the bridge and she shuddered. Slight sweat broke over her brow and she ignored it and instead, mentally went through the ingredients of chocolate pudding.

Cricket stopped once he was over and she took a deep shaky breath, sat back up and took off her blindfold. 

Arthur was waiting on her and he didn't comment further, just gave Cricket an appreciative look which she felt very proud about and they continued. When dusk set, he said they were camping there for the night because the rest of the way was too steep and treacherous to navigate in the dark. 

He prepared the fire and said he will see if he can hunt something even though they had food and left. She fished out the canned beans, canned tomatoes, vegetables and her spice set and prepared vegetable chili. 

He came with a rabbit and cleaned it and she prepared to grill it with salt, pepper and thyme while he washed off the blood on his hands.

When he returned they waited for the rabbit to cook, then she served him a bowl of grilled rabbit, chili and a slice of the sourdough bread she had baked in preparation the day before. He ate the whole thing in his usual hungry, no-nonsense manner and wiped the bowl with the bread, saying this was some fancy camp food and asked for more. After, the lighted his cigarette and pulled out the whiskey and she took a small glass, warming it in her hands.

The stars were out and it was a warm night, slightly breezy but overall calm and beautiful. 

"You know, I envy you," she said at some point. "You live like this all the time."

"I like being out here, that's true," he said, gazing at the sky. "Quiet."

"You can camp wherever you want, you can travel the whole country if you want to. Must feel very free."

He scratched his beard. "Yeah, it does."

"You think I could do it?"

"No."

She blinked at his short answer. "Why, because I'm a woman?" she asked evenly.

"Cause ya can't shoot," he said with a grin. 

She huffed. Then, carefully: "You ever think of life outside the gang?"

"Sure," he said, the campfire dancing in his eyes.

It had its challenges, to be with someone like Arthur. She couldn't read him, he was wildly different in his upbringing and values, and worst of all - he rarely expressed his opinions or his plans for the future. Sometimes - most times - he acted like he deeply enjoyed her company and that was all it was. Other times he made her think she was profoundly underestimating her importance to him. It was like being in a dark room and trying to feel her way around.  

"What does that life look like?" was her careful question.

He gave her a long look. "Hope to find out soon."

They were quiet for a while, watching the Moon move up. She was happy to be there, happy to be with Arthur, happy to be outdoors, in the country. Away from of camp he seemed more at peace, calmer, more balanced.  

"Ready for bed?" he said finally. 

She was tired from riding all day and nodded. She crept into his arms in the tent and was almost immediately asleep.

The next morning she was standing at the edge of a cliff, looking up at Arthur's amused face, then back down at the ravine. Then at the ledge across, then back at him. She took a step back, her palms sweaty. 

"Ughh...let's check the map again."

She took it out and spread it with trembling hands. 

"I'm not sure..."

"Clearly says we gotta jump over," he interjected smoothly.

She bit her lip, looked back at the ledge. "That can't be right, it's too far."

"Ain't that far," he lazily scratched his beard. 

She glanced back at the ravine. Her foot started tapping. The day felt unnaturally hot, so she loosened the top button on her blouse. 

"I'm thinking..."

A grunt of ‘go on’. 

"…thinking..."

He shifted on his feet, unperturbed. 

"…that maybe we should come back another time."

His eyebrows rose at that. 

"Clearly we don't have the equipment we need for this."

His gaze shifted to the ledge, then back at her. "What equipment ya need?"

"You know...climbing equipment. I can read a book. In fact, let's go to the library in Saint Denis! I can look it up and we probably need some pins and foot gear and hooks and a rope of course, scratch that, several ropes, then we need to practice somewhere, can't just start he-"

"Ain't comin' back here," he said casually. She opened her mouth to argue and he added: "Y’ain't either."

"But..." she sputtered.

"It's a jump. Ain't that far." The corners of his lips curled up.

"It's really high though."

He took off his hat, fanned himself a bit. "Thought you said you can do everythin' on yer own."

She pressed her lips together. "I can!"

"'Cept that," he said, pointing his hat to the ledge. 

"I can do that, too! I just need to learn-"

"How to climb the Rockies?"

She wanted to slap him so bad, her palm itched.

He put his hat back on. "I can do it." A thoughtful palm on his chin, "But..."

"But what?" she asked, annoyed. 

"Why would I?" The hint of a grin. The brute. 

"What do you mean, why? I told you we'll share the treasure!" She flapped the map shut with a huff. 

"And if there ain't any?"

"Well we won't know until we look."

"Hmmm..."

A few moments passed. Who knew when she might get time off again from work? He was such a prick, using her fear of heights against her.

"Need more'n that if I'm riskin' my neck," he sighed in a regretful tone.

"What, you want the whole thing?"

A dismissive shrug. "A whole of nothin' is nothin'."

"God! What then?"

He gave her a look. A long moment passed. She would have laughed if she wasn't so frustrated. 

"Seriously?"

He shrugged. "It's my price." Then a smug "Ma'am."

"This here isn't Cricket, you know."

He turned away. "Well then, let's head back while we got the light."

"Stop!" she laughed, defeated. "Stop! What do you want, a promise?"

"That'll do."

"You're insufferable, you know that?"

"What'll be, miss?"

"Alright, fine, I promise," she chuckled.

"Promise what?"

"I promise whatever. Christ, get over here already!"

He sauntered over, obnoxiously proud of himself. "Give it here."

She handed him the map and he stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans. She grabbed his arm before he could set off. "You better be careful," she added somberly. 

"Yes ma'am."

"I'm not kidding, be care-"

He jumped the gap and landed casually on the ledge. "God dam it!" she gasped, hand on heart. She ran as close as she dared. "What do you see?"

"Another ledge."

"Seriously?"

"Why, this here suppose t'be the only one in America?"

She cursed under her breath at how impossible he was today. "How far?"

He didn't answer and just jumped out of sight. Her heart flipped. "Arthur!"

"Calm down woman! You'll hear me if I fall, believe me."

"Very funny," she called over, but then decided it was better not to break his concentration. 

She sat down at a comfortable distance from the ledge, pulled up her knees and started to tap her foot. Should have gone for that climbing gear, she thought, waiting and reminding herself to breathe. The minutes ticked by so slowly on her pocket watch, she was starting to believe it was damaged. She jumped to her feet, went over to Cricket, petted him anxiously. Then she repeated it with Frost because you can’t just pet one horse and not the other. Then she went back and sat down again. Then she jumped up, checking her watch. It had only been five minutes. 

Five minutes after that she was so restless that she crept to the edge of the ledge and called out to him. He didn't answer which made her really nervous. Now she was running between the horses and the ledge and doing the same actions over and over again. Sitting down, getting up, petting Cricket, petting Frost, calling out to him, sitting down, getting up - she knew she was being stupid, but the compulsion was so strong, she couldn't resist. 

After what seemed like hours he called back. The relief that washed over her made her knees buckle. 

"What took so long?" she called, trying to calm her heart that was galloping in her chest. 

"Ain't easy hoppin' around with all this gold!" came the answer. 

"What?!! You serious?!!"

He jumped into view. Empty handed. He gave her a grin and she was compelled to find a gun and shoot him. 

"I fucking hate you!" she yelled. Then: "Be careful!"

He jumped back to her side and she swung her arms around his back. 

"Whoa woman," he chuckled, "y'alright?"

"I was worried," came her muffled response. 

Then she stepped back and slapped his chest. "You're enjoying this way too much!"

He clicked his tongue in amusement. 

She bent down, hands on knees, trying to regain her breath. "All that and we got nothing."

"Didn' say we got nothin'." 

"What!?"

He fished out a piece of paper. When she unfolded it, it turned out to be another map. 

Her eyes widened and she got all jittery. "Oh my god, ohmygod I knew it! The treasure map is real!!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "No it ain't. Just someone's idea of a prank."

"You telling me somebody jumped around these ledges here just to set up a prank?" she said with clear disbelief.

He threw out his arms. "Clearly."

She looked at the map, her excitement undimmed. "Only one way to find out! Where's this, I wonder?"

"I know where it is and we ain't goin' there," he said, wiping his brow. 

"Why not?"

"Dangerous."  

"You say that about everything!" He gave her a side eye. "Just tell me where it is, then."

"The hell I am," he huffed and walked away. "Knowin' you, you'll just run off there first chance."

"You're such a brute," she hissed. Then, calmer: "Charles might know." She saw the slight tensing of his shoulders as he was walking towards Frost. "He might even take me," she added with a drawl. 

"He ain't takin' ya if I say not to." He was fishing for his water canteen in the saddle, trying to hide his annoyance. 

"I might cook him a prize," she quipped, sauntering over. "If he hunts a rabbit, I can make him kouneli stifado. Greek rabbit stew." She knew she was pushing it because Arthur was irrationally possessive of her cooking and pettily disinclined to share it. The only person he made an exception for was Jack.  

"Woman..." he gave her a hard glare. 

"What?"

He huffed and stuffed the canteen back in, then gave her a long, intense look, walked over to the side, squared his feet and said "Come here."

Her eyebrows rose. "Don't think I wi-"

"Ain't you promised?" was the low growl. 

She blinked. "You're collecting now?"

"I am. Come here."

She eyed him head to toe to gauge if he was being serious. 

"Now, Savigne." he said, his tone more serious, less playful. 

She walked over and stood in front of him, suddenly excited. He cupped her chin and gave her a long crushing kiss. When he broke it, she was breathless. His eyes crawled over her body. "Strip." He said with a low voice.

"Here?!"

"Here."

"But..."

"Ain't nobody 'round for miles." She almost shivered at the way he was looking at her. Then again the command: "Strip!"

She stepped back and started to unbutton her blouse. She glanced around nervously, there was nothing but rocks and trees. But it was daytime and in the open and he had asked her to take off her clothes, this was way outside her comfort zone. She stripped out of her blouse, her boots, her jeans, then her underwear, standing stark naked in front of him, resisting the urge to tap her foot. He watched her with hooded eyes, hands on gun belt. She hugged herself with the instinct to cover her nakedness but he waved an arm.

"None of that."

She bit back her argument and dropped her arms to her side, twitching nervously on her feet. He would take any objection as a challenge and enjoy squashing it, so the best thing to do was to comply completely. 

He came to stand in front of her, then slowly circled her, his left hand gliding over her leg, her stomach, a breast, a shoulder blade, her spine, a butt cheek, waist. Despite the urge to cover herself, she felt her exhilaration still present, pulsing in the background. His other hand smoothly slid off her tie and he ran his fingers through her hair to loosen it over her back. After a full circle he kissed her again, aggressively. 

"On your knees," he whispered into her ear. 

She sunk down, feeling herself getting wet. She looked up at him. His face was unreadable but his eyes were dilated and full of want. 

He dropped his gun belt to the ground, then very slowly unbuttoned his jeans, watching her. She didn't break eye contact and kept very still. His cock sprang to his hand, eager and ready but he was calm and calculating as the fingers of this other hand glided over her jawline and his thumb pushed between her lips. She suckled at it without looking away and his jaw muscles clenched at the action. He moved closer and she didn't need to be told, she leaned in and closed her lips on the head, twirling her tongue. 

A low moan fell from his lips. He had never asked her again after the first time she had done this and she hadn't offered, curious how long he would go without asking. She knew he had enjoyed it greatly that night. But that night she had initiated it and she had been in control. Today he wouldn't allow her that. 

His hand cradled the back of her head and he urged her to take him in further and she relaxed her throat and did that, moving up and down his shaft. His eyelids fluttered and he moaned again, whispering her name as he kept their gazes locked. She moved slow and suckled gently when she reached the head, then back down, taking him in further and getting more and more wet herself, the tingling between her legs now clouding her mind with need. His lips fell apart and he started panting louder, a slight tremble to his legs. Her hands crawled up to his thighs, resting on his hips and she finally sheathed him completely in her throat and he cursed softly, his eyes gliding to his cock disappearing and reappearing between her lips. She felt him harden even more and swallowed, feeling another shudder go through his legs with it. 

He inched closer, moving against her now, gently pushing in and out as he held her head in place. She continued to hold the eye contact as he increasingly became more excited, a flush creeping up his face, the fingers on the back of her hand curling into a fist on her hair, his peals of moans more lustful. There was a look of dominance on his face, a look of power and it turned her on immensely. But in the back of her mind, suddenly the urge to rebel. To turn the tables. 

She tasted his precum and felt him slowing down. His legs trembled as he fought the urge to come. Given that he had told her to strip, she imagined he had other things in mind. Well but so did she. She raised her tongue to increase the friction and he moaned absentmindedly at that. Then she removed one of her hands from his hip and slowly moved it to her breast. His eyes glided over, fascinated as she gently brushed and cupper her breast, then continued moving her hand over her stomach. His breathing gained pace again and despite himself, so did his pumping. She hummed and his eyelids fluttered with pleasure, but his eyes were glued to her hand as she moved it lower still, over her upper leg, the inside of her thigh, then back up, up until she separated two fingers and glided them further, over her folds, then curled them at the knuckle and pushed them in. 

He hardened in her mouth and bent forward with a gasp. She thought she had him but suddenly her hair was pulled back with a sting and he slipped out. “Gettin’ bold, are we?” he growled, dropping on his knees in front of her. He bent her head with the grip in her hair before he crushed her lips, then left a trail of kisses down her throat before a suckled on a breast hard enough to make her arch and whimper.

”Turn around,” was the rough command. She scrambled to turn her back to him, remaining on her knees. The slap on her buttocks felt like someone had pressed a sheet of fire against her skin. She took a sharp breath and his left finger slid into her and her intended gasp turned into a moan. His cock pressing against her back was rock hard and distantly she marveled at his self control. She squirmed against it and he groaned with the friction. The harder slap that followed made her jump. The finger in her curled and she moaned so loudly, she could have sworn that she heard and echo of it bounce around. His large hand fondled her sensitive cheek as he curled his finger again and she whimpered, torn between pleasure and pain.

There was something obnoxious about doing this in a clearing in broad daylight, stark naked while he was completely dressed behind her. Obnoxious and exciting at the same time. The things this man could make her do! He removed his finger and pushed his cock into her. She was so wet, he slid in comfortably despite his size. His left hand found hers and pressed it flat on her belly, keeping it there as he pulled out and bucked back in.

”Feel that?” he whispered against her ear. “Feel me takin’ ya?”

She felt him under her palm, moving in and out, splitting her and moaned again. “Yes.”

His right hand squeezed her inflamed butt cheek, his left hand still on hers as he continued his slow pumping. She whimpered with excitement and pain and he hardened in her. He pushed her left hand down to her folds, placing his fingers on hers to make her caress herself as his bucking sharpened. She panted when he suckled her earlobe. She felt herself getting closer and he knew her well enough to notice it. His right hand flew up to her chin to turn her face. “Wanna see it,” he whispered as she moaned uncontrollably under the assault of his fingers, moving her own.

He must have seen her crest that peak dozens of times by now but his appetite for it never slackened. The hunger to see her vulnerable, naked, completely at his mercy, in submission to his power and to the need only he could grant her was voracious.

Suddenly, just at the verge, his fingers forced hers to still and his bucking slowed down. She moaned with frustration. “Ask me for it,” was his low command.

Savigne flustered at his self control to pull back even now, when he was as close as she was. It was freakish compared to hers. Her muscles clamped around his cock, trying to force him on. “Please,” she whispered when he wouldn’t relent.

”Please what?”

A distant part of her rebelled and he must have seen it on her face because he slowed even further and removed her left hand from her folds. She panted with need, stuck between the primal need to scratch that itch and her pride. His right hand dropped to her breast, fondling it as he glided in and out of her with agonizing slowness. This was his new thing now - forcing her to ask him for things. Breaking that wall brick by brick. 

”Please…” she swallowed, “…let me…oh..." she shuddered and whimpered.

"What's the word, little bird?" he sighed into her ear, kissing the cheek that was turned to him, his beard scratching her shoulder.

"...sing." she gasped. 

He hummed with approval and pushed her to fall on her hands, jerking her ass towards him. He pulled on her shoulders, arching her back as he increased his pace. In the back of her mind, the notion of how she had started off the year not understanding what the big deal about sex was only to become a woman who let herself be stripped and taken in broad daylight in a clearing. You think you know yourself, she thought dimly but all her thoughts scattered like smoke in the wind when he leaned over her, beard scratching her back, fingers gliding over her folds. He relentlessly brushed, caressed, massaged until her moans turned into guttural gasps and her final cry bounced between the walls of the chasm. A moment later a rumble on her back, a stuttering of grunts in her ear and the wetness of his warm seed inside her. They remained like that for a few moments, panting and baking under the sun. He sat back and pulled her with him to sit in his lap, his hands circling her waist and pressing her into his chest. She lied against him, trying to come down from her peak, her nakedness completely forgotten.

”Enjoyed this trip more than I thought I would,” he drawled and kissed her neck.

"So…about this next spot..." she panted.

He chuckled darkly. “Tell ya what. You make me some of that kuneli stuff, maybe I'll think 'bout it."

[ridiasfangirlings]

Yata fell under the power of the strain and began to behave like a typical stereotypical housewife from a mid-20th century advertisement. Wearing an apron, always ready to take care of "her" husband. At first, Fushimi found this funny, but the longer it went on, the more irritated he was by Yata's behavior and he set out to find the strain and get his boyfriend back.

Imagine Yata just walking around in an apron and house dress with his hair tied up, properly making a meal for his beloved husband XD Fushimi would definitely find it amusing at first, like he’s never going to let Misaki live this down. Imagine this after they’ve just started dating, they’re chasing after some Strain and Yata ends up getting hit. Fushimi won’t admit that he’s worried exactly but he does end up hovering over Yata a little. Yata says he’s fine and suddenly looks up at Fushimi with wide eyes. Yata immediately apologizes for worrying ‘my dear husband’ and Fushimi almost chokes. Yata looks down at himself in disgust, like why is he wearing these indecent shorts and for that matter why is he interfering in his husband’s work. He decides to go home and make Fushimi a nice dinner, kissing him on the cheek and heading off without another word, leaving Fushimi just totally flabbergasted. 

Fushimi goes back to S4 to research what sort of power this Strain has, it turns out that this is like the Rigid Gender Roles Strain who makes people act like stereotypical housewives. Fushimi probably doesn’t have much in the way of frame of reference for this kind of thing (it’s not like he’s ever been near a housewife outside of Yata’s mom) but he thinks well, this can’t be so bad at least it isn’t something dangerous. He heads home after work and is surprised that Yata’s there waiting, wearing an apron and looking very domestic. Yata sits Fushimi down at the table, hands him a newspaper and starts serving him food. Fushimi is amused by this treatment and Yata’s being all don’t worry darling, no need to get up I’ll handle everything. Fushimi thinks this isn’t so bad, like imagine he tries just for the hell of it to ask Yata to hand feed him and Yata’s right there on his knees holding out a forkful of food. Fushimi could definitely get used to this kind of spoiling, after dinner he gets to sit on the couch playing on his PDA while Yata cleans up dinner and then starts vacuuming the floor and cleaning the bathroom and doing laundry. He’s not nagging Fushimi about eating vegetables or taking care of himself and it’s a little nice, having Misaki only interested in Fushimi’s comfort. 

The bloom quickly comes off the rose though. Like Fushimi is used to cuddling in bed and sleeping late when he doesn’t have work, but now when he wakes up Yata is already awake cooking breakfast. Yata never wants to sit with him to eat unless Yata’s feeding him too, Yata always just goes back into the kitchen to keep the food hot for his ‘husband.’ Yata has no interest in going out, like they had plans to go to a movie but Yata just says ‘you go on dear with your friends, have fun’ while Fushimi sits there clicking his tongue (he doesn’t have friends). Yata doesn’t want to play video games and even when Fushimi finally convinces him to Yata loses on purpose, because of course it wouldn’t do for him to be more skilled at this. Worst of all Yata doesn’t rise to Fushimi’s taunts at all, tolerantly smiling or even agreeing no matter what Fushimi says. At some point imagine Fushimi mocking Mikoto in hopes that the ‘old’ Yata will angrily respond but Yata just nods all you’re right dear. Fushimi can’t help but feel upset about this, when he and Misaki agreed because they were on the same wavelength it was fine but he doesn’t want a Misaki who refuses to have opinions of his own.

In a way too imagine this as kind of a wake up call for Fushimi — if you’d told him in Homra that he could have a Yata who was only interested in Fushimi’s well being, who agreed with everything Fushimi said, he probably would have thought that was just how Misaki should be. But now that he has this submissive domestic Yata Fushimi isn’t happy at all, he doesn’t want a Yata who only calls him amazing because it’s Yata’s role to be that kind of support, he wants the honest Misaki who says amazing with shining eyes. Fushimi even misses the way Yata would nag him about vegetables, because even if it was annoying Fushimi knows that’s how Yata shows affection. This sterile boring Misaki isn’t what Fushimi wanted at all, he wants the Yata back who will argue and get angry and be uselessly energetic, the one who fearlessly hits zero or one hundred points rather than remaining at a dull fifty.

[deepdowninmybones]

CtM Fanfic

Everything is just as ought to be

(Have a nice weekend you all!)

Chapter 3 - The Good Doctor

Late October - 14 weeks

Taking advantage of the end of the first block of lessons, Timothy decided to go home for a few days and spend some time with his family.

He would have followed his father at work, which usually meant learning more medical knowledge than he could in a week of school, he would enjoy playing with his brother and sisters and last, but not least, he would be spoiled by his mother and spent some precious time with her.

The decision had been sudden, he tried to call home the previous afternoon but no one answered. In all likelihood they were at work, never mind! He would have given them a nice surprise!

He left at dawn and after the train journey, he was greeted by the London rain.

Some bus later, he was finally at the front door of their house, cold and hungry as usual. He was confident that a nice warm shower and something to eat (he trusted in some leftovers from the fridge) would make him feel better again. At that time his mother was certainly at the Maternity Home, he couldn't expect much more.

He entered the house, took off his raincoat and left his things in the laundry room where the washing machine was running. Why is running if no one's at home?

He immediately noticed something else weird: there were partially sliced vegetables on the counter and the sliding door was open. Someone was definitely at home.

"Is anybody there?" he tried to call. No answer.

Chilled, he closed the window and then headed towards the kitchen where there was a teapot with some still steaming tea on the stove. Just what I need! He thought, pouring himself a cup. In the corner of the kitchen counter, he noticed a pack of iron tablets.

As he sipped his tea, pondering why anyone would need iron supplements, he saw two feet descending the stairs and his mother's figure looming with each step.

"Mum!" he exclaimed in surprise.

"Tim! What are you doing here?!"

He went towards her for a hug.

"I had a few days off and I thought to come check on you…but I didn't think to find you here!"

"Well" she blushed "I had a lot of things to do and…I stayed home"

To Timothy it sounded like an excuse. Weird…again.

"Mom, is there anything I can eat? I'm starving! Leftovers will be perfect!".

"Oh dear, I'll make you some toast right away! Please sit and make yourself comfortable! I guess you must be tired!"

"Just a bit."

Timothy sat down and while he waited, he was captured by watching his mother make that sandwich with all her love and care. Yes! I'm home, he thought.

His mother was radiant today and had a particularly bright smile. He realized that she seemed somehow different: the line of her hips was rounder, softer. He thought it should be a change due to age… she isn't so young anymore after all.

When she turned, his eyes fell on other details…her belly was slightly rounded too, advancing age side effects supposed. But when she handed him the plate with his toast, he found himself with her clearly enlarged breasts at his eyes level… and that, he knew, had nothing to do with the physiological changes due to age.

He paused for a moment before taking the dish, hit by a brainstorm: breast enlargement, rounded hips, rounded belly, iron tablets (for anemia), she's not at work…oh goodness… it can't be that!

"Timothy?!" his mother called him "I asked if you wanted some orange juice!"

"Sorry mom, yes please…orange juice is perfect"

He just saw her turn around to open the fridge, when she swayed a little before grabbing onto the kitchen counter. Without hesitation, he quickly stood up to hold and support her. He added dizziness to his list and easily summed things up.

"It's nothing Timmy, I just lost balance…"

"Yes, sure…come on mom, I'll take you to the settee."

"It's not necessary, really. I am fine!" she replied stubbornly.

"Mom! I know you're fine but I also know that it's better if you lie down now and rest. In your condition, rest is recommended" he told her firmly as he helped her lay down.

His mother's eyes looked at him in amazement. He smiled, and tenderly kissed her cheek, then took a seat next to her.

"How do you know? Did your father tell you?"

"No, don't worry… dad didn't say a thing. But you asking…? You've just confirmed my suspicions!"

"But how did you get it? Is it that clear?"

"You're more…well mom…there's more of you. But the very first reason is that I'm a very promising medical student!" he replied beaming.

She smiled too. It was true, he was very promising. He would become a very good doctor soon.

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this. We didn't want to give you the news over the phone, your father and I wanted to wait until you were home and do it together."

"But I messed up your plans!"

"And you're not the only one as you can see. Oh Tim…we really don't know how this happened…"

At those words, Timothy started chuckling.

"Why are you laughing now?"

"Well, a doctor and a midwife who don't know how this can happen…it's pretty fun! I always told you to be careful with all your mushy-stuff"

She was giggling too now, after all Timothy wasn't entirely wrong.

"Mom, I've always teased you about this but the truth is that I'm glad for it"

"Oh dearest…" she took his hand.

"You know… almost all my friends live very different situations at home. They come from families in which there is no dialogue, there is no love. And this also affects their lives."

"Oh Timothy…it's not easy sometimes."

"That's the point mom… it's not been easy for you as well, but you two make it work! And I believe that is a credit of what there is between you and dad. The love, the respect and the trust that exists between you two is something special… and we have grown within it, feeling loved and protected. And so it will be for him…or her…as it is for me, Angela, Teddy and May."

Turning towards his mother, he noticed that her face was streaked with tears.

"I didn't mean to have this effect on you…"

"It's a beautiful effect. Even if this makes me realize that you are really an adult now."

"That's why you're replacing me with Number Five?" joked Timothy.

"Timothy, don't say that! Nobody is replacing you! It doesn't matter how many children a mother may have, nor how old they are… each one is unique and special and in the eyes of a mother they will always be little children."

"I will allow you to still consider me your little child…but don't tell dad!"

They recognized the sound of Patrick's car parking in the driveway. The kids were home again and Timothy helped his mother slowly sit up on the couch before they entered. He hadn't asked but it was pretty obvious that his little brothers weren't still aware of the new baby.

They heard Patrick saying from outside "If you tidy your rooms, you can watch some telly" and just a few seconds later the door slammed, the three kids darted one after the other up the stairs saying "Hello mummy!".

Closing the door, Patrick announced "We are at home, darling!"

"So am I!"

"Timothy?! What a surprise!" exclaimed Patrick, side-looking at his wife.

Tim enjoyed observing the glances that his father tried to give his wife to understand if the secret was already revealed. She silently answered simply smiling and nodding. He was amused, but also fascinated by the ability his parents had to communicate even without words.

"When did you arrive?"

"Just after lunch… Well…dad" he made sure to remark that word "I think I'm going upstairs now to say hello to the kids and take a shower. I know you two need to have a talk…"

While the children upstairs celebrated Tim's return, Patrick joined Shelagh on the sofa. They looked at each other smiling.

"So you told him?"

"He actually figured it out on his own…"

"And how did he do it?"

"He says there's more of me…I didn't think I was showing already."

Patrick grinned, rested his eyes on his wife's breasts pretending to control and traced her new shape with a finger.

"So it seems…"

"Patrick!"

"What? I was just doing a quick check!"

"Is this really the moment…?"

"Clinical purpose only, I'm a doctor!…but maybe I will continue my inspection later with more personal aims"

To prevent Shelagh from arguing, he placed his lips to kiss her tenderly. They broke the kiss before it could go beyond the definition of amorous effusion.

Patrick helped her get up from the sofa and said "Come on Mrs Turner, one is down…the rest of the world's to go!".

[julianobungus]

It All Comes Back Around.

"I don't want you coming near him again."

Darius blinked as he stood on the patio, staring blankly at the man. Perry stood staunchly and defensively within the doorway, making it clear that the other man wasn't allowed entrance.

Of course, Darius knew that Mr. Porter technically couldn't do anything to him, but he wasn't so arrogant as to force himself through. He just stammered instead. "I'm... I'm sorry?"

"I told you," Perry spoke up again, looking up at the former coven head. "You are not to come near Hunter again. Is that clear?"

"I..."

Darius felt a brief flash of anger sweep over his senses. Who did this man think he was, telling him what to do like that? But he swallowed it down quickly. Darius was mature enough to admit that years at his post had instilled in him a sense of cockiness and arrogance, one that he was trying his best to control.

He knew it would've done him no favours here, so he remained calm despite the ball of anxiety filling up his chest. "Mr. Porter, I'm not dangerous. I'm not going to hurt Hunter-"

"And how can I know that?" Perry butted in, asserting that he - not Darius - had control here. "Why should I trust you - a servant of the Emperor - to be anywhere near a child?"

Darius felt that same flash of anger again, but swallowed it back like a bitter vegetable. Even with Belos long gone, the shadow of Darius Deamonne's post clung to him like the cape he used to wear.

"Perry, please. I was never associated with Belos in that way. You know that." He paused, finding that his heart was racing fast now. "... I just came to see Hunter."

"Hunter doesn't want you here." It was short and blunt, but simple enough. Perry seemed to stare sun-hot knifes into Darius' eyes with his own, even through the most innocuous pair of spectacles the taller witch had ever seen.

Darius didn't know what to say to that. What was he talking about? "Perry, what are you..."

"Hunter told me what you said to him." That was Perry's answer. "How you treated him. Calling him half-a-witch; making fun of him for it, too." The reporter's hands, Darius could see, were balled into fists. "You made him feel like he was nothing."

And just like that, that familiar feeling of guilt washed over the abomination mage like a cold bucket of water tipping its contents. He certainly remembered that, as well as his prior opinions on the former Guard.

"Perry, I know what I did was wrong-"

"He was a teenager, Darius!" He raised his voice, taking a step closer. "You bullied him like a common schoolyard bully! Why should I-"

He paused, bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He readjusted ger glasses, inhaled deeply, and stared right at Darius.

"Listen to me, because I'm only going to say this once," Perry Porter was firm. "You are not to come back here again, do you understand? Hunter is happy and safe her, and he doesn't need you to come spoil that. You - and everyone else who was even a mile within Belos' radius - are the last person he needs in his life."

Darius stared, dumbfounded, afraid, and ashamed. He opened his mouth to speak just as Perry butted in.

"Are we clear?"

Darius spoke up. "Perry, I-I'll leave, but please - just let me speak to him. I want... I want to apologise."

But the senior Porter had ran out of patience. Without even a sigh, he stepped back and closed the front door on Darius' face - an act of defiance that would have ended with him being arrested during Belos' tenure.

As it was, Darius Deamonne stood in stunned, heartbroken silence, feeling his heart pumping way too fast. He felt like he wanted to vomit, and he felt tears pricking his emerald eyes. He had prepped himself for rejection, but this-

Hunter doesn't want you here.

He had walked away from the house and beyond the gate when he decided to turn around, feeling a pair of eyes boring into the back of his skull. He glanced up at the second-story window, seeing a familiar figure through the glass.

A pair of ruby-red eyes seemed to shine above him, and Darius' lip quivered at the sight of the thin blonde man he had once deemed his companion. His hair had grown out, becoming wilder and unkempt, and seemed to be tied back into a ponytail judging from the shape. All the older man could see was that he was wearing a casual, navy-blue t-shirt.

Darius raised a hand in nervous greeting, wondering if he even should. To his relief, Hunter did the same, but it felt half-hearted; disingenuous and weak. His face didn't change.

The former Wittebane's expression was a mystery. What was it? One of sadness? Apathy? Detachment? Perhaps a quiet scorn disguised as any of those.

Hunter's little red familiar landed atop his shoulder, preening at the blonde locks, and Hunter Porter drew the curtains with one swift, unencumbered motion.

And Darius finally choked back a sob.

[saemi-the-writer]

Erucio (Erwin/Lucio) in 5 minutes

More details undercut :)

Lucio chose the surname Spadason to honour the previous Count who had taken him under his wing and offered him a new first name. Without the chains, Lucio realised how attached he had been to Spada, how he had respected him and even considered him as a father figure. Although he could understand his mother's situation and why she acted the way she did (making a deal to have a child but tricked into giving her motherly love in exchange, her commitment to their traditions and principles, etc.), he could not truly forgive her or reach out for her either; they made a truce and turned a new leaf. Morga is the one who lives with more regrets.

Similar to Niamh, Lucio tends to scream as he squashes the bug. He can become quite feral if the bug escapes. Erwin tries to get rid of it quickly to spare their things.

Lucio is (surprisingly) quite good at cooking, even though some of his ideas can be wild sometimes, he always manages to make it good in the end. Erwin can only do some basic dishes (rice, marinated vegetables and porridge), the best he can do is grilled meat or fish (barbecue or skewers), otherwise, his cooking is bland at best.

Erwin is the jealous one. He had pined for Lucio so long that now he gets quickly defensive when he sees anyone getting too close to his beloved or flirting with him. Lucio loves it, even more, when it leads to fierce/rough sex afterwards.

The two bicker often, but they don't fight seriously that much. Lucio tends to quickly apologize because he's afraid of losing Erwin's affection the same way he had lost Nadia's and other people he cared about. Erwin doesn't like it when they fight either and tries his best not to become withdrawn.

Lucio isn't a bad caretaker when Erwin is sick, but he can get overwhelmed with worry and then overdoes it. The fact that he doesn't know much about medicine doesn't help. Erwin has some solid knowledge and he can keep a cool head, so he's a good caretaker in general. He also likes to spoil Lucio a bit when the latter is sick.

The two were attracted to each other very soon after they met, and they got closer as time went on. They didn't date because Erwin did not seem interested, nor playing hard to get (like Valerius for example) so Lucio did not insist, and he was afraid sleeping too much with him would spoil their close friendship. Erwin was Lucio's confidante, so Lucio didn't want to lose that. Meanwhile, Erwin was slowly dying inside and champing at the bit.