#I also have a candle that reminds me of him and last time I burned it we had a 4 hour phonecall

[no-one-hears-me]

if I knew I would be this tired today I would've stayed up to talk to my ex

[xenteaart]

you are not difficult

pairing: chan x reader (i wrote it with idol!chan or producer!chan in mind, but it can fit any au, really) word count: no idea but it's short genre/warnings: er, angst, hurt/comfort, implied suffering w depression, implied history of SH. also implied shitty ex. so PLS keep that in mind before you read. also, it's all good in the end. author's note: it's a self comfort thing y'all but i hope you like it too.

it was yet another night where everything felt too much and you kinda hated yourself for it. bad day, maybe some hormonal imbalance due to a certain time in your cycle, history of mental illness — it's hard to put a finger on the exact cause. you're sick of trying, anyways.

chris was, of course, right there for you, and as you were falling apart in his arms, your entire soul was aching so bad that it made you want to crawl out of your own skin. it's usually like that, everywhere in your body like some sort of extreme inflammation, except physically you're perfectly fine.

"'m sorry…" you blurt out somewhere between your sobs and cries, still unable to hold eye contact with him.

"baby, you have nothing to be sorry for," chan shakes his head and keeps rubbing circles into your back, just between the shoulder blades where the ache feels the most excruciating.

"kiss me?" you squeak. almost pathetic, honestly, but it's always been your way of checking, whether he still wants you. whether he still loves you and desires you, even at your lowest, even with your mascara all smudged over your cheeks, eyes puffy and red, lips slightly irritated and swollen. even when there's a gaping black hole where the heart is supposed to be.

chris doesn't even question it, really. he simply leans in and gives you a long sweet kiss full of both a partner's tenderness and a lover's lust, so, so willing to do whatever it takes to calm the thunderstorm inside your mind and ease your struggle.

the kiss doesn't really satisfy you, the feeling is still there.

"sorry," you whisper again as you breathe out into chan's lips but the intimate contact doesn't last long. chris frowns and makes some distance between you two to look into your eyes.

"why? baby, why do you keep apologizing?" he sounds gentle but still slightly frustrated.

"i dunno? cos 'm difficult? for bein' difficult?"

there's a silence as he blinks a few times, processing and putting two and two together.

"just because it was difficult for them to love you and take care of you, doesn’t make you difficult. you are not difficult. like, at all," he puts on his serious tone, the one he uses for you when you can't see the obvious and he has to remind you.

you don't really know what to say to that, so you keep playing with the tissue paper in your hands, ripping it apart piece by piece just to keep yourself busy and focused on something other than the burning ache in your chest.

"dealing with mental health isn't easy, that one is true, baby, but it's so easy to love you. you are easy to love. even now, looking so small and in pain but it's still you, and my duty as your boyfriend is to take care of you when you can't. and, hell, you're one of the most capable people i know, so please just let me hold your hand through it once in a while, yeah?" chan speaks slowly and quietly, as if to make every single word sink in, tenderly forcing it into your stupid lovely brain that refuses to cooperate sometimes.

chris feels safe. he feels like lighting up a cookie scented candle after a long day at work. he's the feeling of the ocean timidly licking at your feet and burying them deeper into warm wet sand. chris is the first sip of coffee in the morning and the cold side of the pillow at night. he's everything worth living and trying for.

"thank you," is the only thing you manage to say, but in the way you lean back into his embrace he's able to read a lot more.

"do you want a nice mug o' hot chocolate and some fairy bread, baby?"

this question makes you hiccup and sob once again. you nod and nuzzle closer into the crook of his neck.

[gladiatorcunt]

summary: aemond targaryen x afab childhood friend wife!reader

cw: intentional heavier valyrian usage (i used translators so if i’m wrong, please just pretend that i invented the language and i’m right), slight breath play-ish, reader isn’t related to aemond in any way (they’re just from a different royal family from elsewhere , visited as a kid and met aemond), pregnant!reader, the breeding and praise kinks aren’t explicitly stated but they’re more in his actions, flashback mention of teen aemond having a typical teen boy reaction and getting a boner bc he saw his crush bent over, aemond drinks reader’s breast milk like a vampire and cums, this au-ish storyline has been a long standing maladaptive daydream but this is just a kinktober post, stuck in the wall was also supposed to be included but i cheated and just mentioned it/same with the waxplay lmao, implied wax play later on, kinda unsafe and unrealistic sex (obviously), written with no thoughts

wc: 1.4k+

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not repost, translate, or give ai my works

kinktober masterlist

It’s been six moons since you discovered that you were with child. Your husband, Aemond Targaryen, had been smug beyond belief when the maester estimated that you conceived on your wedding night.

You were not prepared for how your body would transform in the coming months. You have to empty your bladder more often than not and a burning in your chest keeps you awake. One of the more annoying problems was the tremendous ache in your breasts.

Aemond awoke to your quiet groans, sitting up in bed was not easy for you these days.

With a yawn, not even bothering to put on his eyepatch, he sat up in bed beside you.

“What have I told you about making good use of me if you need something, raqiarzy? (beloved). You should still be resting.” He chides you.

“How can I sleep when my tits are full to bursting, Aemond?” You reply with a slightly bratty tone, and he gives you a brisk pat on your behind to settle you. It was gentler than his strikes usually are, he considers your health with every action after all.

He sighs and lumbers out of bed to light a candle, as naked as he was when he succumbed to slumber. The newfound influx of hormones guides your attention to hone in on his cock flopping in the air as he walks back to bed. The dried wax from your love making last night still stubbornly clung to both of your bodies. You would definitely need to take another bath in the morning.

“Ao līs daor emagon ryptan issa se ēlī jēda, issa jorrāelagon. (you must not have heard me the first time, my love)” Aemond reminds you, unable to stop you from getting up and sitting in front of your vanity.

If your husband did not know better, one would think that you were opposed to any night time…. activites. The tired amusement in your eyes beckons him forward, but he stays lounging on the bed and watching you run your fingers through your hair. Aemond resorts to teasing to obtain your attention, adoring how you always fall for it hook, line, and sinker.

“It feels as if it were only yesterday that we reunited all those years ago, you had gotten lost and ended up falling in a hole in the city’s walls on your visit.”

Your hands pause on their way to grab your hair brush, casting a weak glare towards him out of the corner of your left eye. You clear your throat but you make no attempts to hide your embarrassment at the thought of the past. Aemond holds eye contact with you through the mirror, resting the hand not holding his head up on his hip.

“I was six and ten, wallowing in nausea and nerves. Do not pretend that you were faring much better, husband. We had not laid eyes on each other for nearly a decade.”

You do not mention the sizable tent in his trousers he had carried around after he helped you out of the wall.

“At that time I was convinced the way I would see you again would be in death, there was only relief for me.” He says firmly, and you shyly peel your gaze away from the mirror.

As exhausted and drained as you are, your heart melts at the unwavering affection in his words. Aemond clearly grows bored of playing cat and mouse, because suddenly his torso is pressing flush against your back.

“If you can’t sleep, at least allow me to distract you from your discomfort.”

He cups the front of your neck and gently squeezes, you huff but understand his unspoken request and arch your back against him.

“Refrain from teasing me, valzȳrys (husband), for tonight at least.” You lean your head back and look up at him as his other hand drifts down to tug the bodice of your nightgown down.

Your slip of Valyrian earns you another quick squeeze. You gasp and Aemond seizes the opportunity to gather enough saliva in his mouth to spit into yours. Your throat bobs under his hand as you swallow and he pinches your nipple in appreciation.

“Hmm. I will do my very best, darling.”

You have learned by now that such assurances mean tragically little.

Aemond takes stock of your chest, sliding the hand cupping your throat to be able to grope at both of your breasts. He rolls them around in his palms and kneads them as if he were in the kitchen handling dough. You moan at the sheer relief and his sapphire eye seems to sparkle at you in some kind of wink.

“These heavy tits must be remarkably sore, so full and with no one to drain them of their milk.”

You nod helplessly, more than ready for him to abandon his games and do just that.

One of his hands temporarily abandons your breast to push your head back down so you’d look at the mirror. You sit there, enraptured in the sight of milk beading to the tips of your nipples and leaking out.

Aemond catches it as well and groans, pinching at your nipples a bit meaner and squeezing your tits tightly to coax more milk out.

“Gevie (beautiful) , all this food for our future dragon. You are glowing brighter than any moon, raqiarzy (beloved).”

Your cheeks heat with embarrassment, never being able to take compliments with grace, and gaze down at your lap. A firm hand sinks into your hair and pulls it so you return your gaze to your sticky tits. Aemond swipes his fingers through the milky trails running down your tits. He whorishly brings them to his mouth and sucks them dry, smirking at you in the mirror as he grunts.

Your ornate vanity chair is swiftly turned around, and your lap is drowned in white hair when he falls to his knees before you.

“Aemond, what are you-“ Your words are cut off by a greedy mouth latched around your right nipple. Your husband is being mindful of his teeth and starts to rapidly suckle.

His free hand pets at the hair above your mound absentmindedly. An agonized groan floats through the air as his sucking picks up speed. You clutch onto the back of his head with both hands and run your fingers through his fine hair.

“Gods, Aemond, thank you thank you thank you. Such a devoted husband, I love you.” You do not say it often, your shy nature comes into play regarding that sort of thing, but the immensity of it must take a toll on your husband.

His groans are muffled by your teats and you have to swipe away stray drops of milk that dribble out of his mouth as he drains you.

Somewhere along the way he switches to your other breast when the previous one had nothing more to give. Your cunt howls in need for additional stimulation but the feeling of your chest pain fading away urges you to let your dearly beloved have his fill of your body. There are times in which you say it is his right.

You notice that Aemond has been grinding his weeping cock against the floor. He appears to have synced his thrusts to his suckling, and seeing how drunk he is off your milk meant for his future child makes you just as ravenous as his cock is for a hole to fuck.

Your arms wrap around Aemond in a fierce hug, surrendering yourself to your cunt’s way of thinking. Even if he wanted to pull away, your grip gave him no means to do so. His face is squished into your tits and his eye rolls back, continuing his suckling and writhing.

He rips his mouth away from you to loudly exclaim, and you are startled by how his mouth forms an ‘O’ shape and his form locks up. Aemond weakly thrusts his hips through his apparent peak, the burst of fluids spewing out onto the floor. A few spurts of it lands on your legs, and in the depths of your depravity you eagerly scoop it up to shove in your mouth.

You run your fingers through Aemond’s hair again to assist him in coming back down, and once he does you are quickly swooped up in his arms and delicately thrown back onto the bed.

“Do not confuse a curse for a blessing, issa dāria (my queen). My cock is likelier to grow wings and take flight than it is to run out of seed to stuff this puffy cunny with. Sir sagon nykeā sȳz ābrazȳrys (now be a good wife), and endure it for me, hm?”

You will be greeting the approaching dawn with countless more pieces of dried wax.

[08luvmailz]

𓇼 I'VE REMEMBERED . . ਏਓ !

𖥔 ݁ 𓈒 summary 𓍯 he remembered your favorite color — 🎙 contents : angst

The air bore the fragrance of scented candles, dry flowers and melancholy, a symphony of quiet sorrow woven into the tapestry of twilight, where memories slumbered beneath the dew-kissed grass of lost souls. The man's quiet footsteps, hesitant steps with the echoes of eternity echoing at the hushed place, reverberated through the sacred stillness of the sepulchered landscape. His eyes wandered across the cold tiles as his gaze, heavy with the weight of unspoken solace.

He is only here for one person, one destination. 

His youthful eyes clouded with grief and sadness but also a relief. Amidst the silence, a transient of his past, reading your name that fluttered between the dusty tombstone like delicate moths drawn to the flame of remembrance. He sat on the chilly grass as his eyes darkened while reading the transcript of the tombstone.

" It's been a while, my dear. " it burned, His throat tightened with hushed words or how the man's lungs crushed with every breath he'd taken. " I can feel you roll your eyes at me. It's been years since I've visited you. You must have been waiting for a long time. " He closed his eyes as he needed to capture the translucent tears threatening to fall from his eyes. 

" Do you perhaps hear me? " his words are as gentle as the breeze on a cold Saturday night. It was all too ironic, too painfully evident for his aching heart. " You may not forgive me as I never visited you since the day... you've left me, your family," he confessed to the quietness. Acceptance was never easy in his forte, the cruel duty of how much he cared and loved. It was never enough to let you stay or bask in your radiance that once and finally left. 

The wind carried his burden but never left his body like the air he needed constantly breathe to live as years later, he never changed in the slightest bit. " I wish I could know more about you, so I can show myself, can please you. " In the vulnerability of his words, he sighed. The man found solace in the communion of utterances spoken to the wind. " The regret in my stomach filled me like butterflies, as I only wished that I could touch your delicate face as I confess my undying feeling for you. " His fingers brushed gently and tentatively against the engraved letters that etched the name of his one and only.

His hands gripped tightly to the flowers he brought for you. The smell of it wafted in the air as it reminded him what you smell like. It was different you, had a husky-like smell than these floral flowers but it was only a replica of what you smelled like as it was a mere comfort for him. " I've brought you flowers, it may not be your favorite. But it is your favorite color," he confessed, his voice a soft echo in the stillness.

" You may not see the full-bloomed colors of these flowers nor the color itself, I will be your eyes and nose to tell you that they are beautiful and smelled like you, a bit. " He quietly chuckled as his delicate-ragged fingers plucked one petal. The man's touch became an ode as he caressed the plucked petal, A caress to remember that transcended the veil between them.

My memory with you has faded completely, but I will always remember how you, loved these colors.

The rays of sunlight painted the blue sky as the scent of flowers flowed through his brain, the shadow of a lone willow tree twisted and shaped themselves as his figure standing like a lone wolf. His eyes formed from darkness and a hollow void of coloration turned into light like a burning flame like one that flowed crimson red to the skies. " This would be the first and last time that I would visit you; I would continue living my life… without you. " His lips quirked upwards, a smile that could clash with the sunflowers bathing in sunlight.

He moved on, from you. He finally did the next step on his journey

" You showed me things that I wished to see and this time I'm the only one who will see those things. You have my gratitude and that will always be impeccable and irreplaceable. " He laughed as he spoke those words, words of joy tickled by the melody of his laughter, swayed with a rhythm known as his greatest love for you.

He did it, you must have been so proud.

" Goodbye… my dear, I'll see you soon enough. Wait for me a little longer. " As he walked into the embrace of the sunlight caressing his face, with each step, the memories of you two faded from his view, his eyes wandered one last time at your tombstone as the sunlight beamed on the pavement. It was like an unfinished painting awaiting the strokes of a new beginning.

A beginning without you.

— GOJO . GETO . shoto . obanai . TOJI . NANAMI . choso . LEVI . eren . BAKUGO . HAWKS . dabi . KURAPIKA . killua AGED UP! . CHROLLO . choso . zhongli . XIAO . DAINSLEIF . neuvillette . diluc . wriothesley . KAEYA . tartaglia . kaveh . alhaitham ... your faves

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

I don't know if you're accepting anymore requests for the Creator Baby Daddy thing, but if said baby daddy was a certain redheaded teetotaler that runs the Dawn Winery? 😗

Their grace had a

Firey headed child

Wc: 1k

As the soft sunlight seeps inside the room you open your eyes, a bright red mane moving softly up and down as it rests on your chest, its curls framing Diluc’s jaw and nose.

It seems like the finger you ran around his hair and cheek woke him up. “Rise and shine, little prince”

Bright red eyes look at you with tenderness and his lips kiss your sternum and arms tighten around your waist.

“We can cuddle for a bit but remember I have to leave after breakfast to Liyue” he nods but sighs against your skin “even after I leave you will be forever in my heart”

“And my heart will always ardently burn for you, your grace” he kisses your lips as he mumbles sweet nothings, both of you fully under the cotton covers and enjoying the last few minutes of time together.

“It's been quite a while, Diluc” you sit down on the stools in front of the bar, it's almost closing time and the few people left are gathering themselves to go home. Even Diluc was surprised to see you at this hour but he holds back from asking about it straight on.

“It's been almost three months, I think? I believe you were scheduled to return for the next Ludi Harpastum, in two more months” without hesitation he keeps the conversation going smoothly, so used to chatty drunkards going on and on and still expect an answer.

Looking at him doing the closing chores so focused delays your answer a few seconds, but honestly who could blame you? His white shirt was rolled up his elbows and the top few buttons were undone “Mhh there was a change of plans, for reasons I will stay a season in mondstat”

“I see… I guess you just arrived?”

“That is right, we hurried back and managed to make it here in two days”

Throwing the towel he was drying the whiskey glass with over his shoulder he leans forward, resting his back from standing for so long and causing a few stray crimson hairs to stick to his thinly sweaty skin, the warmth of the tavern almost making you break into a light sweat after a few minutes inside “Would I be so bold as to offer you a drink, your grace?”

“I would love it, just please make sure to not add alcohol to it”

He nods and turns to pour a small layer of grenadine in a glass “as you please”

“aren't you going to ask me why?”

“Why you don't want alcohol? I was just guessing you didn't want today”

“Well, it's partly because of that but there is also another reason” softly you lay a hand down on your lower belly, sure he would understand the implication.

“Upset stomach? Alcohol does irritate the stomach's lining” but when turns to pour orange juice he sees your deadpan expression and the hand between your hips, soon the connection is made “was that from…”

“Yes, indeed! I do hope your heart is still burning for me”

“Always, your grace” a soft smile grace's his face, if the candles were dimmer it might have been impossible to see. Closer to a gasp or a whisper he leans forward and swears “I would rather rip my heart out than to stray from you”

During the pregnancy his hands and sight seem to always find themselves stuck on your body somehow, a constant reminder to himself that you are safe and this is something nobody nor anything will be able to take away from him and even if they attempted he would fight to defend.

Any comforting words that you might attempt to soothe him with fall to deaf ears so it might be better to hold in the good news until you start to show to enjoy to the max your boundless liberty before making good acquaintance of the dawn winery and periphery, it's not like he would force you to! He would never dare to order you around, it's just his face that makes you the slightest bit guilty when you leave and travel alone. Even if you wouldn't consider four knights of favonius alone he still seems to hold resentment and mistrust.

People say that firstborns always look like their dads, nature's paternity test some claim, but regardless of how your baby looked (even you must claim that as soon as your beloved baby came out it was hard to find any resemblance with humans) the firey red fuzz on his head linking him to his father in a second. Not like Diluc doubted it for a second.

“This selection is a chardonnay” Diluc holds a white grape before smashing it between his fingers and giving it to your toddler to happily chew “it makes a wine of the same name” when the kid swallows he hands them a dark one and does the same procedure “this one is Malbec, a staple for most of our red wine” but this time he spits in back on the ground, seemingly too bitter.

“Why don't you stick to feeding him normal grapes?” You ask from the table under a shadow, sipping grape juice and reading a book.

“When he grow up they might want to work here and with so many types of grapes and things about the winery to know I should teach him young” he turns around from besides the vine, he from may you know where decided that he needed to teach your year old about the multiple varieties of wine grapes and their wines.

“Fine~ if you feel like you want to do it teach him, I doubt much knowledge will stick right now but I will be rooting for you here” he turns around to face the plant again and you keep watching his arms show from under the rolled shirt and how they tense when reaching for a new grape and the love with which he teaches his child, quite possibly reminiscing about his father doing the same with him.

[laurfilijames]

Happy Birthday, Darlin'

Pairing: Jax Teller x female reader

Words: 4,014

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Smoking. Mild descriptions of cuts and blood. Mentions of fighting. Unprotected intercourse. Slight asphyxiation. Some insecurities about Jax and his habits.

Summary: It's your birthday, and while Jax is pressed to make it to you in time to celebrate, he makes sure all your wishes come true.

A/N: Happy Birthday to ME 🥳 yes, I'm that bitch who wrote herself a birthday fic because I can. I've been dying to write for Jax for so long and thought this would be a fun way to get a feel for writing his character. If my writing wasn't self-indulgent before, it definitely is now.

This takes place after Season 2 Ep 12 The Culling where the Sons fight The League/Zobelle's guys because I just found Jax to be wildly sexy in that scene (but also when isn't he?)

---

The night air was cool on his face as he ripped as quickly as he could down the quiet, country roads back into town, easily shifting into fourth gear knowing every cop in Charming would be responding to where he just fled from and not having to worry about being pulled over for his excessive speed.

Jax knew he was pushing it for time - your birthday over in just less than two hours - so with a reminder of his bruised and bloodied knuckles, he twisted the throttle and opened up his Harley even more in order to get to you faster.

With a smile on his face at knowing your neighbours already complained about his presence on your street, he let open again on the straight section of road about half a mile from your house, hoping you and everyone else would now be fully aware of his arrival.

The fight with Zobelle’s gang already had him fired up, but not nearly as much as getting to see you did, and as he pulled into your driveway, his buzzing fury changed into a different kind of energy entirely.

Taking one last haul on the cigarette hanging out of his mouth, he blew out the smoke and tossed it onto the asphalt, stepping on it with a twist of his dusty shoe as he unbuckled his helmet.

Jax glanced up to see the dim, warm light of a lamp in your living room, smiling to himself again that you were still awake and no doubt waiting for him as he took his backpack off his shoulders and unzipped the main compartment.

Relieved the box didn't get smushed, he pulled out the still perfectly preserved cupcake and dug in his pocket for the single candle he stuck in there earlier, bringing his lighter out with it along with another cigarette.

He placed the fresh smoke between his lips, not paying any attention to the cut stinging on his lip where it rested, focusing on sticking the candle in the center of the cupcake and lighting it. With the pink candle set ablaze, he brought his lighter to the end of the cigarette and inhaled as it burned the paper, shoving the Zippo back in the inside pocket of his cut before carefully making his way up the steps to your front door with his free hand blocking any wind made by walking from blowing out the tiny flame.

He grunted quietly to himself when he knocked on the door, his hand more sore than he thought it was after punching Weston's face in so many times, muttering to himself when he realized he was getting blood on the side of the cupcake from a split on his other hand.

"Ahh, shit," he sighed, knowing he didn't have enough time to try to clean anything up when he heard your footsteps coming to answer. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and quickly forced the smoke out with a deep blow, waving his hand so it wouldn't be in your face when you opened the door.

An automatic smile formed on his lips as soon as he laid eyes on you, leaning against the doorway in nothing but your panties and his white reaper crew t-shirt that he left the last time he was over, his voice hoarse as he started singing.

"Happy birthday to you," he began, taking a step through the entrance. "Happy birthday to you," he continued, getting right close to you until your faces were inches from each other, his eyes flickering over your shy, but happy features as his gesture made you flush all over.

"Happy birthday, darlin'. Make a wish."

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, looking from his intensely blue eyes down to the candle in front of you, and blew it out.

"What'd you wish for?"

"I'm not supposed to tell, Jax."

He smirked, leaning even closer to you so his lips were hovering over yours, "Then I'll have to guess."

His kiss tasted like smoke, but you didn't care, craving the nicotine that transferred from his mouth to yours like you were addicted to the habit itself, deepening the kiss by arching into him as if you were never able to get enough.

Jax walked forward, guiding you further into your house, the sound of the door closing lost on both of you as he kicked it shut behind him and eventually broke your kiss.

"I didn't think I was going to get to see you today," you whispered, your lids heavy with lust when you looked up at him.

"Yeah, well, I skipped out early to come give my girl her gift." He held up the cupcake and let you take it from his hand, watching your expression change to confusion as you noticed the blood stained on the side of it.

"Is that your blood?"

"50/50 chance," he laughed, swiping his finger through the icing before licking it clean.

“Should I even ask?”

“Probably not.”

You began taking in the deepening colours of purple and red on his cheek, the cut on his lip and the ones that flawed his hands, the concern you felt taking away from the joy in having him there.

“Is this why you're late?” you questioned, your fingertips ghosting over his cheek and down to his lip.

“So you were expecting me, then," he winked, his smugness always managing to outshine anything else, forcing you to roll your eyes at him.

He kissed you again, plucking the cupcake out of your hand and placing it blindly over on the hall table where you kept your keys and purse, his hands reaching up to cradle your face.

"I should report you for theft, you know," he warned, pausing to take a breath, nodding down at his shirt that hung loosely on your body.

"I think of it more as safe keeping until the owner comes back to claim it," you challenged, your eyebrows raising to show your displeasure in it being too many days that had turned into weeks since he was last here.

"Hey, at least I didn't miss your birthday," he objected, trying his best to defend himself, his head tilted while his eyebrows rose to crease his forehead.

You backed away from him, turning to walk through to the kitchen, looking back over your shoulder.

"And how many other birthday's did you celebrate in the meantime?"

"Oh, come on," he laughed frustratedly, your accusation making him look up at the ceiling. "You know it isn't like that."

You nodded slowly in silent agreement, trying not to let your insecurities and jealousies get the better of you.

He sighed loudly, waiting for a moment before following you, his voice raising slightly to make sure you heard from down the hallway.

"You're the only one I always come back to. The one I want to be inside every night."

Hearing his footsteps coming toward you, you closed your eyes and breathed out, terrified of the hurt he could cause but realizing you were being hurt every time regardless.

His voice was near and softer now that he was in the kitchen with you, making your heart pound faster in your chest even though he seemed so calm.

"You gotta stop pushing me away."

It was safer that way; always keeping him at an arm's length, never wanting to get your heart involved when you knew what he was like and how many beds he ended up in. Jax Teller could have any woman he wanted; more charm in him than all of Charming, a simple crooked grin or nod as he strutted past enough to seal the deal, and not one person could say he wasn't successful in his endeavors.

Despite it all, you wanted him, but kept it casual enough to get a taste of what you needed, having said to both yourself and him on more than one occasion over the years that nothing more would ever happen as long as his habits remained the same, and you weren't about to ask a man like him to change.

He came up to you, his hands holding your waist, his lips peppering across your shoulder and dangerously close to your neck. You closed your eyes again and sighed, relishing in the sensation while praying he didn't do the one thing you always told him not to.

But Jax always did whatever the fuck he wanted.

He kissed up along your neck, making you moan and breathe deeper, trying to keep some sort of resolve.

"Jax, you know my rule," you pleaded, feeling your entire body ignite to his lawlessness.

"Remind me what that is again?" he lied, continuing to kiss and suck your neck, knowing damn well what it was.

You shivered, feeling yourself slipping away and quickly becoming willing to do anything he asked or all the things you really wanted to do; the way he kissed your neck was your kryptonite and weakness and the one thing you always prevented in order to save yourself, fearing you would reveal exactly how you felt about him anytime he lingered there.

"Jax…"

He stopped, grabbing your chin to force you to look at him, his eyes dancing back and forth with yours as he looked at you seriously.

“I'm done playing. I want this," he said pointedly, speaking with surety.

You let go of the breath you were holding, still questioning whether to trust him regardless of how convincing he was right now.

Taking hold of your cheeks again, he smoothed his thumbs back and forth across them, an honesty and pleading present in those clear blues that made you lose yourself every time.

Before you could argue or plead your case, he crashed against you, inhaling deeply like he was trying to suck all the air out of your lungs, his tongue probing deep into your mouth to tangle with yours.

There was no sense in trying to hold back now, done with pretending for as many years as you had, the whine that passed from your mouth to his signaling your surrender.

The metallic taste of blood mixed with tobacco teased your tastebuds with each kiss, increasing your hunger to taste more of him while your body displayed those needs and your hands roamed frantically under his hoodie and the waist of his low-sitting jeans.

The leather of his cut was soft on your fingertips as you ran them along the open panels, feeling Jax’s eagerness increase in his kiss when you peeled it down his arms and placed it carefully on the kitchen chair beside you without looking. He shrugged off his hoodie and white t-shirt while you busied yourself with unfastening his belt and jeans, letting the weight of his knife pull them to the floor without assistance, leaving him standing in his boxers with a cheeky grin on his face.

“You seem pretty happy unwrapping your present.”

“Is this all I get?” you teased, matching his smile and giggling when he picked you up and put you over his shoulder, giving your bum a harsh smack as he started making his way down to your bedroom.

"Come on, birthday girl, let's go make those wishes come true."

A seriousness took over again once you were in your room, what remained of the playfulness exchanged just a minute ago in the kitchen leaving the moment your feet touched the hardwood floor, Jax peering down at you with a look you hadn't seen before.

You'd be lying if you told yourself you weren't absolutely terrified, scared of letting yourself fall even further for him, but the way his expression had softened and his eyes held what you knew had to be love for you in them, you were ready to give in.

“I mean it,” he muttered, one of his hands reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear where you leaned into his touch.

You crashed against him, kissing him hard, the need to have him more fierce than ever and only fueled more by him meeting your enthusiasm equally.

Jax tore his shirt from your body, only pausing in kissing you for long enough to get your head through it, stepping closer to you so your bodies were pressed together, feeling his hard cock nudging against your thighs and then between your legs through his boxers.

More desperate for him now than you thought you had ever been, you tugged his loose-fitting shorts down roughly, your mouth watering as his dick sprung free and bounced temptingly before you took hold of it and began rubbing the silky, veiny skin, his approval of your touch sounding as a low growl from deep in his chest.

"Fuck," he hissed, his mouth close to your ear as he leaned in against you, his hips moving into your strokes.

Finding his focus, he let his fingers hook in your thong to pull it down over your hips, his head angling to meet your mouth with his again as he slipped his fingers in your folds to spread your slick, both of you pressing your mouths against each other's harder as ecstasy quickly took over.

This was normally the time where one of you would frantically reach for a condom, barely keeping it together in time to get it on him as the temptation to go without almost always won, and today it seemed it would. You had always trusted that he wrapped up whenever he was with anyone, and although you were on birth control you were happy not to take any risks, but today was different. You wanted him, and all of him.

Jax walked forward until the back of your legs met your bed, and forcing you to sit, he crawled in over you, his blond hair hanging in your face as you spread out beneath him and he settled between your open legs.

He gave you a once over before meeting your eyes, admiring your perfect form spread and ready for him to ruin, his cheeks flinching as he clenched his jaw while he waited for you to give him the go-ahead.

Your consent was silent as you lifted your head up to capture his lips with yours, his sun-bleached beard scratching over your chin, lifting your hips at the same time so you rubbed yourself over his leaking head.

Jax wasted no more time, driving into you deeply in one push, pausing when he bottomed out to flex his cock inside you. You moaned into him, your hands clawing over the tattoo covering his back, unable to believe how good it felt to have him bare inside you.

Immediately choosing a rhythm that was both slow and hard at the same time, he thrusted in and out and ground against you with perfect precision, sending you close to the edge faster than ever before.

"You feel so fucking good!" he growled, his mouth parting from yours and leaving a string of wet between them, moving his lubricated lips over to your neck where you whined loudly and rocked more into his movements.

"Fuck, Jax!" you cried, knowing you were leaving ten red trails across his pale skin, but feeling the need to claim him as yours.

He was doing the same, sucking at your neck to leave darkened blemishes behind, his tongue alternating where his teeth came out to nip harshly at the tender skin to soothe each bite, his tempo growing erratic as he lost himself in your dripping cunt.

You seemed to only get wetter the more he kissed your neck and fucked you deeply, hitting that sweet spot with his head with each blow, the way you squeezed his girth tightly as he dragged in and out of you making him want to blow it already.

He forced himself to pause, needing to compose himself so he could keep fucking you for as long as he could, not wanting this to be over any time soon. Your whining increased, making him unsure if it was because he was sitting idly inside you or that he was persistent in continuing to kiss your neck all over to the point you had goosebumps littering your skin and you writhing desperately under him. It made him smile, knowing he had such an effect on you, smug in his ability to have you past the point of control and that you were seconds away from admitting something you tried so hard to deny for so long.

If Jax was anybody but the asshole he was he would've said it long ago, but selfishly he wanted to hear it spill from your gorgeous lips first, and he didn't ever go down without a fight.

"Roll over," he demanded, pulling out of you and forcefully grabbing at your leg to help flip you onto your stomach, hooking your knee up to bend at a high angle.

You took your hair in your hand and draped it over one shoulder, exposing the side of it for him to do with what he wanted, making him smirk more that you clearly wanted him there despite what you always said.

The hand that wasn't supporting him on the mattress gripped your cheek and spread you apart, driving his dick in you again torturously slowly, watching your face contort as he stretched you open. Your hands tore at the sheets as you backed yourself into him to push him in further, meeting his hips in slow, rolling motions, that tingling sensation of your building climax quickly returning.

Sex with Jax was always mind-blowing and the best you ever had, but tonight it felt so much better, so much more powerful, and you knew you could never have it any other way again.

He leaned over you to gently kiss your neck, more carefully than before, his efforts in wrecking you focused in his movements even though the feel of his lips on your sensitive skin had you shivering and threatening to come undone just as much.

The scent of your skin was like a drug to him as he breathed deeply, his nose ghosting at your nape and in your hair, dragging him right along with you to a point he would never recover from.

Wrapping a hand around to wedge between you and the bed, he found your clit, rubbing precise circles with his fingertips in the way he always knew made you scream, the thought of feeling you cum on his bare dick making him feel more feral than he ever had.

"Jax, I'm so close- Fuck!" you cried, your breathing growing ragged, your limbs moving recklessly to try to gain momentum on your climax that sat waiting just on the edge, seeking to keep up with his ruthless pounding.

He slowed his pace, adjusting to a speed he knew would have you at his mercy, his fingers pressing onto your swollen bud harder but in more languid strokes. His nose brushed along your neck, his breath fanning out over your dewy skin before he started kissing you again, the way your body tensed beneath him telling him he had you right where he wanted you.

"God, Jax, I love you," you admitted, feeling freed and unashamed in saying what you had feared to the most, your body relaxing into your words and finding the release it sought.

Jax hammered into you, pounding you through your high, his grunts mixing with your shouts of pleasure as you quaked and strangled him tightly.

Giving you no time to recover, he sat back on his heels and lifted you up with him, his cock momentarily slipping from you as you positioned yourself over his lap, allowing him a glimpse of your milky cum that coated it and sent him into a frenzy.

He speared back into you, your pussy sensitive and still tingling from your orgasm, his hand holding you back against his chest and pinching one of your nipples between his fingers to keep you as stimulated as possible.

Reaching up to turn your face to the side so he could kiss you, he rutted up into you brutally, feeling your pussy stretch out over him with each pump, your wetness dripping out to soak his golden pubes.

His kisses turned sloppy, nearing his end, his hand slipping down to hold your throat where he could easily control the amount of air allowed to pass through your windpipe, the knowledge of knowing you trusted him enough to let him do it lighting him up with an intense buzzing.

Before he could give in to that temptation, he let one hand return to your tits that bounced with his thrusts, the other replacing his lips on yours as he pulled your bottom lip down with his thumb and shoved two of his fingers inside. You sucked on them appreciatively, wetting them with your spit thoroughly as he triggered your gag reflex and pinched one of your peaked nipples at the same time, making you moan and clench hard on his dick. Removing them from the heat of your mouth, he trailed them between your breasts and straight down your stomach, landing on your clit where he spread your spit generously and worked to make you cum again.

You ground on him quickly, the increase in your movements sending you through to another climax, the sound of him grunting and panting in your ear as he began to cum encouraging you, but not as much as knowing he was about to fill you up.

He drove up into you harder, his teeth scraping along your neck and up to your cheek where he growled in your ear roughly, "I love you, too, babe."

You came together, feeling his hot spend coat your insides and start to leak out of you as he didn't let up on fucking you, wrecking you harder than he ever had before.

Your body felt weak and charged all at the same time, like you were melting into him but somehow needing more, and sliding off his dick with a quiet moan at the loss of him, you turned around to face him, sitting in his lap where you wrapped your arms and legs around him and held him close, continuing to kiss him with a necessity that was greater than breathing.

Holding your head in his hands, Jax met you with equal fervor, his chest rising and falling sharply against yours as he worked to catch his breath, and slowly guided you to lay down in the sheets with him.

Your legs tangled together, your arms holding and caressing each other with a surety you had never known before, relishing in the after effects of a level of bliss you were positive up until now you were never going to experience.

Slowing your kisses until they stopped, Jax looked at you warmly and flashed you a lazy smile, and you couldn't help but trace your fingertips over the creases beside his mouth and then up to run through his tousled hair.

You felt a slight pang in your chest in knowing he would probably leave soon, needing to see to some duties for the club, always having to run off shortly after his time with you to go deal with something that his loyalties couldn't ignore.

"I don't want today to end," you whispered, not ready to call it quits on your birthday just yet, and especially not ready to let him out of your bed after confessing something so huge.

Jax shifted onto his back, stretching out with a groan to reach for your alarm clock on your nightstand to check the time; 11:51 pm. Following the cord from the back of it into the wall behind the table, he pulled the plug out, watching the screen turn blank before rolling back over to you, his knee wedging between your legs as he settled his weight on top of you.

“Your birthday isn't over yet, darlin', and I'm not going anywhere.”

---

Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls @littlenosoul @blairsanne @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90 @paintlavillered

I went ahead and tagged everyone I have written down for my Charlie/Will Miller taglist so my apologies if you're not interested in being tagged in Jax fics and I will happily add or remove anyone as they wish!

[aa-aliasauthor]

“One Time Thing.” -> 01.

Summary: After getting promoted to I have one more rank to achieve. Lord Ubuyaskiki decided to finally grant my request for special Hashira training after I prove myself. He places me in the Hashira best suited for me, and for the first time — I completely disagree with him.

Paring: Sanemi X Oc Tsuguko (Melina)

Masterlist

Warnings: None

Taglist: Just comment and ask!

A/N: Again please read the paring. This is an OC story, not an x reader.

Series Masterlist

I sat quietly, watching the flames start to burn hotter and hotter. The wax of the candle melting. Watching the candles in the dark always helped me clear and calm my head.

I should start making my way over to lord Ubuyaskiki house. He had wanted to see me to personally give me my new rank.

“Melina!” The door slid open, and the voice of Suma Uzui filled the silence. “Lord Ubuyaskiki is summoning you. Today is your big day.”

It wasn’t a big day. My “big day” will be when I’m a Hashira. Today I am just a kanoe.

I blew out all the candles, then made my way to the front of the estate. There Tengen stood with all three of his beautiful wives. “Congratulations on your promotion.” Her gave a pat on my head before the four of them waved me off.

I had been living with them for about a year now. I had been assigned a mission with Tengen, and when he learned that I had no place to stay besides a Inn he immediately demanded I stay with him and his wives.

I followed my crow, and walked silently all the way to the Masters house. It was hot out, curtesy of being summer. So I praised the lord when i finally arrived and could get out the sun.

“Melina, it’s so very good to see you.” I gave him a bow, before taking a seat. “I would like to congratulate you on making Kanoe.”

“Thank you Master. I praise and wish you well.” He was a good person — he was the last of humanity that I still had faith in.

“I would also like to speak to you about your request.” I remain quiet, hopeful of his decision. “I grant you permission to train under a Hashira.” I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

This would mean I could go on the same advance missions as Tengen. I’m sure he’d be happy to hear about this — after all training under a Hashira was his idea.

The door slid open once again, Revealing the master’s two kids and a man.

He had scars all over him — from his face, to the bit of forearms that I could see, to his open and exposed chest. He had white hair, and his eyes reminded me of a void. So empty and dark — yet so consuming.

“The wind pillar — Sanemi Shinazugawa is here.”

Wait, why was he here? “Please join us Sanemi.” The master spoke up, causing me to swallow and I think I knew exactly where this was going.

“It is good to see you again master, you look well and I hope you feel so.” He gave the master a respectful bow, before sitting down beside me.

“Thank you Sanemi. I have a task for you, and I hope you will accept.”

“I’ll do whatever it is.” Okay now it feels like he’s just a suck up. Then again — every person is. “This here beside you is Melina Kamura. I would like for you to take her under your wing and train her all you know.”

The exact opposite of what I was wanting. I could tell the man beside me — Shinazugawa, didn’t want to train me either.

“As in a Tsuguko? Master I don’t think I have the time for one or those.” Nor patience. I could already tell he was a hot head.

“I must protest as well Master. I was hoping to train under the Sound Hashira.” The look Shinazugawa gave me screamed offense.

“I understand your concerns, but please all I can ask is for you to trust me.” I swallowed, no matter how good he was or how much I would love to — he knew I would never trust a single person. “I wouldn’t pair you two unless I thought you two would work well together.”

It was either this or nothing. So I kept my mouth shut and nodded my head in understanding while Sanemi spoke, “we understand master.”

“Thank you. You may both leave whenever you wish now.” We both stood and started to walk out. Walking down the hall Sanemi grabbed my arm and stopped me from walking.

“I don’t want to train you.” I could tell he was about to speak more, but I cut him off. “I was hoping to get someone different than you as well — so no hard feelings.”

“Listen here.” His grip tightened. “I don’t want to train you, but I will. I will train you day in and day out. You wake up and train. You will spend every hour of every day becoming better. I’m not Uzui. I’ll actually make you work.”

“Okay.” I can him a smile — if he thinks intimidation is something he can use then he’ll find out shortly that I don’t crack.

“Move your things to my manor by the end of the day. Your crow will guide you.” Oh yea — another reason I wanted Tengen. I didn’t want to move. I just prayed this wouldn’t be long.

༆

“I hate to see you leave.” Tengen said, while gave me a sad smile — but I could see pride in his eyes. He actually was proud of me. Suma was crying, while Makio tried to tell her that this is good for my career. Hina was the first to give me a hug goodbye.

“Make sure to come visit us. Don’t be a stranger.” She gave me a kind smile, and Suma was the next to tackle me in a tighter hug. “I’m going to miss you!” I patted her head comforting — promising her I’ll see her soon.

Makio and Tengen gave me their hug together. “I’m proud of you.” Tengen spoke, while Makio stayed quiet — hugging me tighter.

By the time I was making my way over to the wind manor I could hear Suma starting to cry all over again — this time being comforted by Hina.

They were a sweet and loving family, and I’m glad I got to know them as well as I did.

“About time.” The rough voice of Shinazugawa said as soon as I stepped foot inside is estate. “How slow do you walk? Geez.”

“Where will my room be?” I he had an annoying personality and to be honest, I didn’t want to talk to him more than necessary.

He waved over a maid, who immediately grabbed my bag. He gestured for me to follow after her, keeping his steps aligned with mine — he walked with me.

“Let’s go over the schedule I’ve prepared for you.” I nodded my head, giving him my attention. “You’ll wake up every morning at four in the morning. You’ll go through the same work out routine as me all the way till noon. You’ll eat lunch, then immediately start focusing on sword training. Then when night comes you’ll patrol with me for a little bit before getting some sleep. You’ll repeat this process until it becomes naturally easy. Then we’ll train your breathing techniques.”

It was quite thorough and direct. Something I’m kind of glad for. I like having a plan, and just a base of things.

“Will you be with me the entire time?” Him breathing down my neck 24/7 wouldn’t be ideal, but I wouldn’t complain. “No, I’ll have missions no doubt. I’ll have your crow keep me updated on if you’re doing what I say or not.”

“Wait.” I pause. “I won’t be going on missions with you?” That’s kind of the main reason I requested this. “Most likely not. I don’t like working with people, and I don’t was to be reasonable for you if you end up getting hurt.”

We arrived at a room, where the maid when in and put my bag down before giving a bow to Shinazugawa and hurriedly walked off.

“I won’t get hurt. Listen going on more intense missions is what I need to get better.” I grabbed his arm before he too could walk away.

“In order to get better, you need to train until I think you’re capable of holding your own. Besides you’ll still be going on your regular missions.” He pulled his arm away from my grip. This time I didn’t stop him from waking off.

There would be no point in trying to change his mind when it was clear it was all set.

༆

4:03 AM

A splash of cold water made me jump out of bed quickly. I grabbed a hold of my sword — only to find Shinazugawa with a bucket in his hands. An empty bucket.

“What the hell?!” I could feel the adrenaline fading away — wet cold replacing it. “I told you to be up at 4:00, it’s now 4:03.”

“So maybe shake me awake?!”

“Then how will you learn your lesson?”

Oh I’m gonna kill him. Yep — I can already see it. I’m already planning his funeral. 

“Anyways, get ready and hurry to breakfast. Training starts in fifteen minutes.” He walked out the room. The water was dripping off me still, onto the floor — making pitter patter sounds.

༆

4:19 AM

I rushed outside, making my way over to Shinazugawa — who was mumbling under his breath.

“I’m ready.” He looked up at me, before handing me a bag. “What’s this for?” I grabbed it, placing it on my back carefully.

“It has water, and stuff. Now let’s go — we don’t have all day.” We quite literally do, but I kept my mouth shut and followed after him. Picking up a light jog.

༆

8:00 AM

I huffed out a breath before stopping. I placed my hand up against a near by tree leaning against it. “What the hell are you doing?” My head pounded, and his voice wasn’t helping.

“Taking a rest.” Idiot. We had been running since four and haven’t stopped. Daylight had broke and the sun was clear to see. Thankful it wasn’t to hot yet. “Now isn’t time to rest — now stop dragging behind.” I can feel my eye twitch while I hate a hole in his head.

By the time we got to the top of the mountain I was officially sweating, my hair was a mess, I couldn’t feel my feet let alone my thighs.

Yes I train quite often and I should be use to this, but everything I’ve ever done he’s taken up a notch. Running with no breaks. Weights strapped to our feet. And a steeper mountain than I’m use to.

By the time Sanemi came to a full stop I was lying flat on the ground. “Don’t make me run back.” It was the first thing I said to him since earlier and I hated how tired and drained I sounded.

“Well I’m not carrying you.” Dick. “Drink you water so we can hurry down.” I’m going to kill myself.

[ferrariregina]

Charles Leclerc request

I hope to one day have it in me to make you as miserable as you've made me

misery on the fast lane | cl16 × reader

pairing: charles leclerc × reader

warning: angst, unedited, also lets act like charles won a gp recently okay? okay.

summary: mentioned above.

you are seated at home, the flickering flame of the candle throwing agitated shadows against the wall. outside, the night is dark and silent, the world seems to be as quiet as your heart. a single polaroid, nestled between a pile of books, catches your eye. it's you and charles. embraced in each others arms, grinning at the camera like idiots.

you miss him, you admit. the way his fingers would trace your skin, delicate and electrifying, the playful glint in his blue eyes, his terrible imitations of celebrities, and that contagious laughter. but the bitter poison of hurt and betrayal lingers stronger than the remnants of love.

he was not just anybody; charles was the fan-favourite driver. every time he'd leave, you would dread his impending return because it should have made you happy. instead, the fear of him losing his life on the racetrack made you miserable. the anxiety was unbearable, but he always returned with that exhilarating grin. until one day, he didn't.

he didn't crash. no, we were the ones who crashed and burned when he admitted having fallen for someone else.

"will you forgive me?" his last words left a bitter taste that you could not erase.

now, you fantasize about the payback. how would it feel to make him as miserable as he'd made you? there's a sick pleasure just imagining it. your heart, once full of love, is now brimming with vengeance.

the warmth he provided, the promise of countless tomorrows, all of it lost and unattainable now.

like a cruel joke or perhaps fate trying to mend your broken halves, you found yourself standing across charles at a bustling party one night. you watched him standing tall, sipping champagne, a captivating sight indeed. his eyes met yours across the sparkling crowd, with an emotion you couldn't fathom.

"hey," he greeted softly, as he moved closer. the effervescent laughter and congratulatory cheers for his recent victory seemed to drown out.

"charles," your greeting was soft-spoken, brimming with bittersweet nostalgia - but you were far from presenting an open book.

"you look…" he paused as if the words weighing him down. "you look beautiful."

"thank you" you replied, stiffening when he grazed your arm with his fingers, those familiar digits igniting an old flame.

"you know… I've missed you," he muttered, eyes pleading. you felt your heart stutter but the seed of vengeance watered, determined.

"that's strange," you replied, feigning naivety.

"I want you back," he declared, grip intensifying. "give me a chance. please."

every cell in your body cried out for his touch, for his promise of a tomorrow. but your pride screamed, insisting you not fall for his pleas. give him a taste of his own medicine, you reminded yourself. you chewed on your lip, hesitant, before releasing a gentle sigh.

"I'm sorry, charles," you replied, taking a step back. "that's not possible."

"b-but I miss you…" his plea embarrassingly desperate, making you wince, a pool of sorrow welling up inside. "can we try again? please?"

you laugh without humor, the sound harsh and louder than you intended. "you have some nerve, charles," you state, trying to wince back the tears threatening to fall.

"don't you miss what we had?" he asks almost pleading now.

you want to lash out, yell at him for what he did, but instead, you say, "what we had is past, charles. a closed chapter. "I still miss you," he says helplessly. suddenly the victorious f1 champion seemed to be nothing more than a broken man begging for forgiveness.

your eyes soften for a brief moment. you miss him too, yet the devout hope to make him feel your agony overpowers your longing for him. you yank your arm free and walk away, leaving him standing alone.

as you walk away, you find it difficult to determine whether you have become stronger or colder in fulfilling your hopes. but for now, you are satisfied, his piercing gaze burning into your back, mirroring the same misery he had inflicted on you.

a/n: I loved writing this, hope y'all enjoy reading.thanks for this request! requests are open!

xoxo

[fizzigigsimmer]

Fargo Season 5: Gator Speculation

Y’all I am starting to fear for this man’s life. 😂 If you have not watched episode 5 yet, warnings for spoilers ahead.

So my theory that Gator and Dot may have previously been romantically involved went from an itch based on tiny clues that might have been circumstantial, to a full on burn last night.

Up until now we haven’t had any confirmation of Dot/Nadine’s age. The actress is only a few years older than Joe, but Hollywood is notoriously gross about women not looking their age, so it was entirely possible Juno was playing much older than she actually is. But now we know Dot was a teenager when she was brought into Roy’s little cult and when she married him.

For me that pretty much confirms that she and Gator are peers, and that he was a teenager when his father married a child near his own age. 🤢

Another thing that went from an itch to a burn for me: During the home invasion, when Dot first sees Gator she says “shame on you there’s a baby in this house”. This struck me because it’s the first time that I can recall Dot using such infantile language to refer to her daughter. While it’s not strange at all or uncommon for people to infantilez children in general, typically that kind of perspective becomes part of your regular speech patterns. “Gotta get home to my babies” that sort of thing. But to my memory Dot has always referred to Scotty with very particular language, possessive language at that. Scotty is always her child, her cub - and they even have her remind us there isn’t anything a mother lion wouldn’t do to protect her cub.

Dot might have chosen to refer to Scotty as a baby in that moment out of calculation, in the hopes that it would prick Gator’s conscience - which naturally infers that she has reason to believe he has one to work over. It also can’t be ruled out either that the specific use of the word baby was an unconscious slip, due to her shock and the vulnerability of the moment. Because the last time she saw Gator she was pregnant with what might be his baby.

The other hint we got this week is Dot confirming that Roy is an abusive piece of shit. She says something along the lines of what is obvious about Roy - that when he’s happy and feels in control things were good, but the minute he feels challenged or insecure he’d hit her and climb all over her just to feel strong again. Only when she’s describing this behavior she specifically uses the word ‘they’. They don’t hit you at first. “They” turn on you and push you down when they need to feel strong.

Now of course, Dot could just be talking about men in general. Men like Roy. But well, Gator IS a man like Roy. He’s desperately trying to walk in his father’s shoes and be all of the things he’s not, and he lashes out on other people to build himself up. We know from his own lips what he did to another teenager who accidentally injured him during a high school football game and stole his (most likely imagined) future in football. Given how close he and Dot are in age and all the hints that we have that he feels something for her, I think it’s highly likely that something happened between them.

I think it’s very possible that they connected, and were able to be vulnerable with each other. Gator seems just as surprised that Dot has become a “tiger” as Dot was that he has become his daddy’s lacky. I think in the past, at first they were able to find comfort in each other and things were good but eventually Gator did something that scared Dot and she decided to run.

At this point, I am confident at the very least that Gator’s feelings for/about Dot are romantic. Whether or not Dot has ever reciprocated them is still 50/50 for me. Regardless I think Gator held a candle for her and that as the tensions rise in the final episodes and he sees just how far Roy is willing to go to hurt and control her it’s going to force him to take a hard look at Roy, the kind of man and father he is, and really ask himself if that’s what he wants to be.

The part that scares me is Roy. Because when he’s in control and he feels like he has power over you, he’s loving. But the minute you do something to rock the boat… 😩 I have this really bad feeling that Gator is going to make an effort to be his own man, just in time to learn a final lesson about just what type of monster he narrowly avoided becoming. That scene with the blindfold and the rope keeps coming back to me.

Of course, my anxieties about that little clip aside there is always the possibility of the narrative going full Shakespeare on us. Gator, bringing about the downfall of his father’s kingdom by falling in love with his step mother and killing his father. 👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾 Full on Oedipus.

[isadollie]

★ isadollie's 100 followers event! — matchup for @karusenka

♡ eren jaeger is your match!

here's how i imagine you two together:

★ 12 year old humor you say? oh i'm afraid that's him. when others are giving you weird looks, he just says that no one has a good sense of humor like the two of you do

★ he's a big physical touch guy, loves to hold you

★ won't ever admit it but he loves when you come to him for comfort, he loves knowing that he's the one you trust enough to cry against

★ would make sure that you think of yourself more, instead of caring about others all the time

★ buys you everything you lay your eyes upon without blinking

"i'm home!" you said as you walked through the door, taking your shoes off. you heard steps echoing through the house, and soon eren was by your side.

he was wearing a cute, pink little apron, holding a spatula in his hand. you couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. he looked so funny, yet pretty adorable as well.

"welcome home." he said simply, wrapping his arms around you in a quick hug. "had a long day?" he stroked your hair.

"mhmm" you hummed in response, but when you wanted to hug him tighter, he pulled back.

"c'mon. i made your favourite for dinner." he motioned for you to follow him into the kitchen. "it's almost ready."

you happily followed him into the room, but then the smile quickly faded away from your face, replaced by a frown.

"oh my, eren, what is that smell?"

he scoffed, turning back to the stove. "dinner."

"dinner?" you walked closer, peaking from behind his shoulder. "it's burning!"

he sent you a glare. "do you want me to remind you what happened when YOU were making dinner last week?"

you sighed and took a step back. "fine, you win... I'll go light up some candles." you mumbled. "if one thing's burning, we might as well burn some candles as an addition."

something about eren always screamed palaye royale to me, and well, i think it's a very good song anyway, so there you have it

i think he'd relate to this song and would like it

your second choice? armin arlert! he was originally my first thought but you said you like the opposites attract trope, therefore i settled for eren in the end:3

also, did i just spot another polish person on tumblr for the very first time???!?!

jeśli tak, mam nadzieję, że się podoba hihi<3

[nrdmssgs]

Hi! I'd like to request something about my OC and Ghost if it's alright with you and you're still taking requests. No pressure and absolutely no rush. If I missed that you're not taking requests at the moment, I'm sorry.

I'm writing a fanfic about my OC, and to know her better I'll link my headcanons of her https://www.tumblr.com/gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot/718834905462751232/sergeant-christine-riot-vega-task-force-141?source=share

I'm feeling a bit down with life and my fic so I thought I'd request something about them to cheer me up. Of course feel free to not answer or not do it, it's perfectly ok!

If you decide to do it, I'd prefer something fluff/smut (smutty fluff? fluffy smutt? :D ) or just fluff/comfort, whatever is fine, really. My fic is a slow burn and although there are signs (and I have their first kiss already written), I'd love to see something with them already established. In my head, although both are deeply traumatised (both having undergone torture and lost their families) their relationship is surprisingly healthy.

Again, should you have other questions, or just discard this completely, it's completely fine. Thank you for reading!

Masterlist Fluff with a sprinkle of smut in the end Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x OC of @gamergirlbones

Summary: Just a quiet evening with a silly game.

TW: A bit of smut under cut

Authors note: I hope, this makes you smile for at least a minute. I really wanted to keep things fluffy and comforting. This all is taking place long after their first kiss (and maybe confessions).

One of those evenings

“Your turn, Lt.” 

Ghost blinked and looked around. If it wasn't for his mask, all others would see his puzzled expression right now. “Where were we?” Ghost voice is calm and steady, as if he wasn't desperately trying to remember, at what point of discussion his mind drifted away somewhere far. 

“Ehm, we are all captured and sentenced to death. Each of us gets a last wish. No limits, but no cheating like ‘i wish for a 1000 wishes’ either.” As Gaz was reminding him of what were they discussing, Simon silently looked from one face to another, trying to guess, who came up with such an idea. Ghost was mentally betting on Johnny, but deep inside he knew that Riot could also offer such a grim game theme at the end of the day.

“So what would you wish for?” “A gun.”

A collective sigh of disappointment swept over the campfire around which they had all gathered. “We agreed to not cheat,” groaned Gaz. “Hey, I'm ok with that answer. It means, mine is still the best!” Soap is shining with pride, but Riot protests. “Hey, that's just not fair. We were competing to find the funniest of us - not the most strategic-minded. Ghost deserves a second chance on this one.”

“You want my last wish to be absurd?” Simon scoffs. “What am I supposed to ask for? A fucking cup of tea?”

“Na-a-ah, the parade in my honor is still funnier.” Soap winks at Riot and adds ‘Ok, Lt, last chance. Give us your best shot’.

Ghosts eyes travel down to his side, where Riot sits, but he stops himself. “I'd wish to relive one of those evenings.” Silence reigns around the campfire. Everyone seems to be waiting for him to elaborate.

***

Simons mind drifts to one of the memories, he values the most. That time, he managed to sneak her from the base, keep her to himself for some time. It was a dream come true: a few days of peace in her loving hands. From the moment, she exited his car and stepped into tall grass, coming closer to his remote cabin, till the moment she kissed him goodbye a few days later - this was heaven. On the first evening they made a bonfire, just like the one, they were sitting around right now. Only that time there were just the two of them.

The crackle of burning logs mingled with the din of crickets at sunset. He crawled over to her chair, hugged her from behind, and rested his chin on her shoulder. 

"It turns out I needed it." Her voice was tired and soft. “Of course you did. You've been burning that candle at both ends for too long.” Ghost felt, he should have made her go on this brief vacation earlier. “I know, how stressful it can get. Mission after mission, then obstacle courses back on the base, advanced weaponry, physical training…” Ghost reached for her hand, held it lightly, and barely touched his lips to the top of it. “And at the end of the day, you are left with a shittone of paperwork.” Christine winced. 

“Oh, don't get me started on that one.” His croaky voice left a tingling feeling somewhere deep inside her chest. As if they communicated now not only verbally, although his touch was still pure and undemanding. Her body was exhausted, her mind - drifted to sleep. “Come on, let's get you to the bed,” Ghost whispered, not wanting to distract her peaceful state of mind. But when she refused and asked to ‘leave her right on this chair under the stars’, he rose without letting go of her hand and added: “Make your lieutenant proud: get up.”

“So many ways to abuse your rank, Lt. And still, you choose the most innocent one…” Christine murmured, but stood up and let him lead the way. It was only when she was undressed, bathed and nicely tucked with a cozy blanket, when Ghost finally answered her: “I'll use and abuse my rank in every most unholy way once you get a nice sleep, love.” Maybe it was banal fatigue, or maybe it was a burning eagerness to find out how he could ‘abuse his higher rank’, but she felt asleep quickly enough in his arms, catching the last seconds of her waking moments as he softly kissed her temple.

***

“One of those evenings?” Someone around the campfire finally vocalizes the question, that hung up in the air, since Ghost made his ‘last wish’. 

“Ahem, how about we all agree that Soap won and call it a night?” Riot looks around and, without waiting for their answer, gets up and moves away towards one of the small shacks that served to 141 as temporary shelters before the start of the operation.

Ghost waits for a while, he always does. Just to stand up a bit later and disappear somewhere in the woods, tangling his traces. Their bond with Riot may be obvious to others, but he still keeps it all low.

He comes in to her cabin so quietly, it's almost impossible to hear his steps. But Riot always knows, when Simon gets closer to her, as if she feels his presence with some kind of the sixth Sense. So when he stops before a small sink to freshen up, it's actually her, who surprises him, sliding her fragile palms under his shirt.

“One of those evenings? Care to elaborate?” Simon practically hears her smiling, as she asks that. His hand covers hers under his shirt. “Go wait for me in bed, love. I'll be there in five.” Their voices are muffled, his fingers sink into the rye-gold of her hair, the other hand cradles her body in the most careful loving embrace. “Evenings, when I can steal you for myself alone.” His lips are brushing against her jawline. “Evenings, when you can feel safe in my hands.” His body is radiating with heat, making her pull off her shirt after a short time. “Evenings, when you don't need to be strong and composed, and can lose yourself under my touch.”

Eventually her pants are too so warm and uncomfortable. Simon helps her out of them. They stay snuggled as he keeps describing her his last wish, his chin resting on top of her head, his fingers slowly drifting up and down her spine. Christines mind slowly drifts as he purrs his most treasured memories of them two into her ear. At the back of her mind, she questions herself, how many of those evenings are there left. But his heat and the hardness beneath Christine make her forget those fears. The way he, a hardened soldier, a living breathing legend of the battlefields frowns under her touch… The way his breath hitches every time her fingers casually slide up the inside of his thigh… This is all too much to still count their coming evenings. Simon too eventually stops reminiscing on the past and concentrates on what is important right now: her in his hands. His fingers slowly caressing her through the underwear, his lips forming the most beautiful, yet unspoken words along her ears and neck. Christine - not Riot, but his Christine looses her quiet and a tad bitter demeanor the moment his mouth slants over hers, pulling her into his lap, her panties pulled to the side. He makes her forget that stupid game, forget her doubts and pains with a first solid thrust. Rolling her over, cradling her body underneath his, dragging small whimpers and moans from her lips - this is another night to remember. Another night, he'd wish, he could relive again and again. 

After her first release Simon lowers his mouth to her ear and asks “Any particular wishes for your second round, dear?”. Her eyes are wet, darkened with a thick veil of desire. “You were so gentle… I'd love you to be bolder this time.” “How much, love?” His smile is loving, but his voice grows somewhat sinister.

She grits her teeth and exhales. “I want it rough. I want to feel every vein, every single inch… But not your mercy this time.”

His chuckle is low, and dark, and not at all soothing as his palm slides up to squeeze her breast. “Is that all?”

She shudders a breath, realizing what a deep void she has just discovered.

[agenttommykinard]

why are you covered in blood? + joenicky if it strikes a vibe

IT DOES STRIKE A VIBE

I'm typing this on mobile so sorry for the mistakes ALSO you know me so have a snippit of an AU that came to my mind with the plot

* * *

The forest is quiet, eerily so.

It's long since grown used to Nicolo and considers it one of it's own. It does not still for him like it did when he first arrived some fifteen years ago.

Nicolo and the forest are connected.

He knows his forest, and he knows that whoever runs within is not a danger, but that they are in danger.

Nicolo moves to prepare his bow, but the trouble finds him first.

The person crashes into him, and the sharp smell of blood fills his nostrills and his eyes flash.

"Why are you covered in blood?" Nicolo asks, alarmed, trying to take in the stranger's injuries in the setting sun. He looks up, and knows that they will be out of time soon.

"Sir please-"

The stranger groans, and collapses in Nicolo's arms. He sighs. There isn't much time left before dark.

He heaves the stranger onto his shoulders and goes to his cabin.

The cabin is small but old. Nicolo had come to it when he first came to the Forest and found sanctuary within its walls. He's made it his own over the years, repairing it and making it comfortable.

He isn't a medic, and this isn't a place of healing, but Nicolo will do his best.

The cabin only has room for one bed and Nicolo lays the stranger down on it's only blanket. He will need to take his furs out should the stranger be cold from blood loss, if this was indeed his blood.

He hurries to light a candle, letting it light his way as he goes to the washbin to get fresh water. He pours it into a bowl and grabs a rag.

Nicolo says nothing as he begins to wipe away the blood from the man's face. He would turn on a fire, but if the man was running from something, Nicolo doesn't want to give away their position.

The candle is more than enough light for Nicolo. Most nights he doesn't need it at all.

The flickering light dances across the man's face and even through the blood and grime Nicolo can make out the stranger's handsome features. He has a full beard, soft and well groomed, and there are freckles across the bridge of his nose. His eyes are scrunched, revealing laughlines that should be lit up in a smile but are only deepened with pain.

Nicolo keeps his touch brief, cleaning away the blood. There are scratches across his neck and chest, his clothing torn from his journey in the woods. The callouses on Nicolo's hands catch at the fine fabric.

This man could be noble with such fine clothes.

Lower he finds a worrying wound and Nicolo's fingers brush against it-

The man gasps and shoots up. A glint of metal flashes in the candlelight and Nicolo's neck is on the other end of a blade.

A blade that he is very familiar with.

Nicolo backs away as if burned and his hands go up. There's a phantom pain across his face as he remembers the last time he had seen the blade.

The Dragon Blade of the Crowned Prince.

Prince Yusuf al- Kaysani.

"Who are you?" The Prince hisses in a language that had been foreign to Nicolo fourteen years ago but has now become as comfortable to him as his own childhood's tongue.

The Prince stares at him as Nicolo fights to beat his own silence. His gaze flickers to the scar across Nicolo's face, but the man's eyes show no spark of recognition.

Nicolo moves to speak but the man groans then and the blade in his hand shakes before he drops it.

"Where am I?" The Prince grits out and he's tugging at his hair.

He stares up at Nicolo then, his dark eyes shine in the candlelight, reminding Nicolo of the dark sky at night.

They're filled with tears, wide and terrified.

"Who am I?"

[hp-fanfic-archive]

Remus/Sirius Fluff Masterlist | Works With Less Than 5k Words [1/3]

find the masterlist directory here

last updated: 07/30/24 | links last checked: 07/30/24

13 paper boats floating in the sea (+2 that reached you) by justprompts [T, 4k]

It's like this. Sirius loves Remus. Remus loves Sirius. Lily thinks Remus and Sirius should date. (She also thinks James Potter is quite fit.) Meanwhile, James thinks that Sirius and Lily are snogging behind greenhouse three. (podfic available)

*A Proposal by Bob_The_Other_Zombie [G, 2k]

Sirius has a love problem and asks James for advice. What happens when you add in pregnant Lily, pantsless Peter, candles, one pot of nearly-boiled water, snogging, Remus’ favorite record, multiple unknown kitchen devices, and a very bad pun? One very confused werewolf, is what!

A Sirius Case of Jealousy by WolfstarPups90 [T, 1k]

Remus has a new job and Sirius has a bit of a jealousy issue.

all alone on the edge of seventeen by nikkiRA [T, 3k]

He is seventeen and in love.

All I Want For Christmas by REwrites [T, 2k]

Sirius chews the inside of his cheek as he stares down a row of Christmas cards in the shop around the corner for his office and tries not to feel like the world’s biggest arse. He wishes he hadn’t waited to the last minute to do this, but when he pulled Remus Lupin’s name out of the hat for the office-wide Secret Santa exchange he’d panicked. A short story in which Sirius is awkward, Remus is sneaky, and James is no help at all.

*All Dogs Go to Remus' Flat, Apparently by iamsiriusblackserious [G, 1k]

“Now, before you murder me and distribute my body parts across Britain, you should know that he followed me home and none of this is my fault,” Sirius says. “Your defense is that a strange dog followed you home and so you had no choice but to let him into our flat?” “Well, when you say it like that, it just sounds irresponsible!” “Brilliant, that’s exactly what I was going for.” or Remus comes home to find a strange dog sitting on his couch and he's Not Happy.

Already Fallen by LightsOut [E, 1k]

Remus Lupin had a plan. He was not going to fall for Sirius Black in any sense of the word.

And a Peacock in a Glass Tree by Tpants [E, 4k]

Remus probably shouldn't have thrown Sirius out of bed. Lily helps Sirius out. Sirius learns to carol.

And When You Get the Choice by iamsiriusblackserious [T, 3k]

After weeks of studying for and sitting their NEWT exams, Sirius finally gets some quality time with his boyfriend. That is, if Remus can actually manage to stay awake. Winding down after NEWTs, slow dancing but not really, and symbolic key bequeathing.

Apollonian and Dionysian. by rearwindow [G, 2k]

“Yeah… Well, it’s like I’m light and you are darkness.”

*As It Should Be by remuslives23 [G, 2k]

John Lupin had expected it, had been waiting for it ever since he caught Remus sneaking soiled sheets into the washing machine when he was thirteen and, at his wife's amused insistence, had sat him down for a halting talk about the birds and the bees.

Bad Day by orphan_account [G, 1k]

Professor Remus Lupin's day had been one of the worst. All he wanted was a nice relaxing bath and a few moments to forget. Luckily he's got a very doting husband who can help him do just that.

Bandages by FreakishWhale [G, 1k]

A world where everyone is born with the First Words their soulmate will ever speak to them inked onto their skin, to be kept hidden until they are spoken and burn black.

between the moon and the stars by llassah [M, 2k]

The summer before their sixth year, and everything changes and stays the same.

*Black Winter and Golden Dreams by huldrejenta [G, 2k]

When you're young and in love, sometimes even Sirius Black would like some advice.

Boys by oliverdalstonbrowning [G, 2k]

Remus is reminded of the truth and Sirius plays Space Oddity.

*Breathless by NachoDiablo [T, 2k]

Sirius is confident that their first date with Remus is going to be memorable, and it is… just not in the ways they expect. (sequel to Worth the Itch)

Built My Dreams Around You by templeg [M, 1k]

A deeply embarrassing lapdance in the middle of the Gryffindor common room leads to much more.

*Caught by Phiso [G, 4k]

Sirius Black was the thief no one could catch – at least, not until he met his match in Detective Inspector Remus Lupin.

Chocolate Love by therunawaypen [T, 1k]

After serving a night in detention, Sirius brings back a sweet treat for Remus to enjoy while he's studying. If Sirius enjoys it too, all the better.

Common Cuddles for a Common Cold by LadyAmina [G, 1k]

Most of the student body has fallen ill with a common cold. Sirius is just feeling it a lot louder. But Remus helps.

copycats by ybrows [T, 1k]

Sirius is a trend setter. Sirius is a trend setter that doesn’t seem to notice it, or care, or make any comment towards the fact that he wore his hair in a ponytail last week and now half the school have styled their hair in exactly the same way. Remus cares.

da mi basia mille by scioscribe [t, 2k]

“There’s a Roman bloke, Catullus, who wrote about snogging a lesbian, or something like that, and anyway, he said da mi basia mille, give me a thousand kisses, and I spelled it. Ensorceled it. Made it into a thingy.” He pushed the envelope up towards Remus’s mouth. “Say the Latin part and kiss it.”

Dadfoot & Moomum by jlpierre [T, 4k]

A four year old Harry Potter, in the care of his guardians Sirius and Remus, experiences a series of Halloween activities to distract the adults from their grief.

*Daring, Brave, and Genius by elle_stone [G, 1k]

It’s been a month since they’ve seen each other, all four Marauders—daring, brave, genius—and prone to dreaming up ridiculous plans and then jumping into them without thinking any of the details through.

Despite The Lightning by A Sirius Crush On Moony [T, 1k]

Remus and Sirius are dating. It's the first day back at school and Remus just wants one thing.

*Drunk on Love by muse_in_absentia [T, 4k]

Post second war AU in which Remus cheats at baking, Padfoot plays in the snow, and Christmas jumpers combined with mulled wine may lead to something old becoming something new.

*Ever After by busaikko [T, 3k]

Non-magic AU. Once upon a time, an astrophysicist was wooed by the gay Scheherazade. . .

Eyebrows by BeesKnees [T, 2k]

In which James seduces Remus (sort of), and Sirius blames the whole bloody mess on James (mostly).

*Finest in Fairford by bluepeony [G, 4k]

Remus Lupin's job in a Fairford coffee shop is always uneventful, until an exotic new customer begins leaving messages with his tips.

*Fiery-Coloured World by orphan_account [M, 2k]

And though Remus had a thick jumper and coat, they were still soaked and frozen as they ran across the pavement, laughing with their cold fingers clinging to each other like it was Noah’s bloody flood and they were about to be swept away. Then someone—Sirius was never sure who, though he often liked to take credit for it—closed the distance and lips met lips. And that was all it took, really. Besotted. Smitten. Twitterpated—the word Remus liked most of all. Sirius knew it would be minutes, moments, seconds before his heart told him he was in love and there was no going back from the emotional tidal wave that was Remus bloody Lupin.

Friends, Lovers, and Various Permutations Thereof by Tillikins [T, 2k]

Celebrating the end of NEWTs! Sirius asks Remus to room with him after school.

*denotes personal favorites

[ssuperficialspacecadett]

Seeing Isn't Always Believing

Chapter Seven of the One Condition Series | Chapter Eight

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.4K

Summary: Mando comes back after three week on Corellia, but something about him doesn't sit right with you.

Notes: I'm going to link the candle I burn while I write these stories because it has influenced me to make Mando smell the same way. It is literally heaven sent.

I also have been thinking of songs that remind me of the relationship between Mando and the reader. One that I have really loved for them is "Cowboy like Me" by Taylor Swift. The lines "And the skeletons in both our closets / Plotted hard to mess this up" really speaks to both of them. They are dealing with so much trauma and are trying to navigate life with that weight on their shoulders. I hope this translates well and I don't sound crazy HAHAHA. I personally like it when authors attach songs so I wanted to try my hand at that as well. Feel free to listen if you want !! — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Three and a half weeks to be exact.

Tin Man has been gone for three and a half weeks. You cringe at how stir crazy you had become when he was gone for only a week. This was a whole new level of losing your mind. You were fine the first week and a half in your defense. You and the child had slipped back into the routine of wake up, eat breakfast, play, nap, eat lunch, play, eat dinner, go to bed. This kept the both of you on a schedule so neither of you had time to wonder when The Mandalorian would return to the two of you. When the second week came along things had started to plateau. The child grew bored of the monotony of your perfectly curated time table and wanted more variety. The worst part was you couldn’t even blame him. You wanted more too, but the issue was there really wasn’t much more to do. 

You started sprinkling in baths for him during the day or before bed time. He was much too small to take a shower by himself in the fresher so you would plug the sink up and fill it with warm water. You learned that he was quite fond of bubbles and was clearly stumped at the fact that his beloved metal ball didn’t float on top of the water like the bubbles did. He would scream before you placed him in his bath and then scream again when you went to finally take him out. But he did love to be dried off. You would sit on the covered toilet seat with him, wrapped in a blanket, and tell him stories of what Eadu was like when you were a child. When you finally got time to yourself, a rarity, you were much too tired to do anything of substance. 

When the third week rolled around you decided that the hull needed a deep clean. You spent hours on your hands and knees scrubbing every surface you could. Once you even stood on the crates to reach the ceiling above your bed. After countless nights of staring at it you swear you had the specks of dust that littered it etched into your mind for all eternity. You did most of your cleaning while the child napped or went to bed, but on some occasions you would do it while he was awake. Not that the little shit was very helpful. You would be wiping down a panel and then hear him babble something up at you as if to say “you missed a spot.” On those days you wanted to kill him. 

You did your laundry incessantly. What else would kill time like hand washing each individual article of clothing you owned? Each time you would go to lay your clothes out a small twinge of anxiety would shoot through your body at what happened the last time. Honestly, Mando had been gone so long you were practically begging The Maker to have him walk in on you laying your underwear out to dry. Just a single thing to break up the agonizing stillness your life had become. Finally he answered your pleas. 

Dinner came and went, you did the dishes, put the baby to sleep in his crib, and were lounging in your bed reading a maintenance manual for The Crest. Invigorating. When the ramp closest to your bed begins to open your body jumps at the piercing sound. Tin Man is finally back! You hurry out of bed, manual forgotten on your pillow, and run to stand beside the crates to see him enter the hull. 

When you see him your heart flutters; it has been so long. You convince yourself that the only reason you are feeling this way is because now you will finally have another person who can actually talk back to you. Not that you don’t love the kid, but having a one sided conversation for over three weeks almost drove you to insanity. 

He walks into the hull slower than usual. The more you watch him the more he seems off to you. Mando’s normal confident saunter has been replaced with an almost drunk-like stumble. His once gleaming armor is dull. It’s caked in dirt, dust, grime, blaster ash and blood. You see a rope in his right hand and follow it. Holding back a gasp, you see the body of a quarry slowly getting dragged aboard. Mando finally lifts a heavy helmet to look up at you.

“It’s okay. He’s dead.”

“It’s okay? Are you okay?” You are still rooted in your spot beside the crates.

“Just a little t-tired tha’s all.” He is practically slurring his words. If you didn’t know any better you would have thought he was at a cantina having one to many.

Before you can say anything else he tredges his body, and the quarries, over to the carbonite chamber. Doing your best to be helpful you head over to the ramp to close it. You guys are still on Corellia after all and clearly Mando isn’t in any state to help if someone snuck in. When the ramp begins closing you turn your body back to face him. He has somehow managed to get the lifeless body of the quarry upright into the chamber, but now he's just staring at it. You cautiously walk over to him and rest your hand on the arm that's hovering over the machines ‘start’ button. While his reaction is a little delayed he jumps at your sudden presence. 

“Hey, it’s me.” You tell him just above a whisper. You slowly slide your hand down his arm until you come to rest on his hand. You lightly push down on the button together. You look up at him as the machine starts to spew its sickly chemicals. He doesn’t move at all. He doesn’t move his hand out from under yours. He doesn’t meet your eyes. You’re starting to panic a little now. Only after the chamber powers down and the quarry has been sufficiently frozen do you speak.

“Tin Man? What’s wrong?”

He takes a while before responding. You can still hear him breathing; it is just more shallow.

“Shower.”

“Let me help you then. Will you let me?” You place your hand around his waist and slowly turn his body in the direction of the fresher. Together the two of you make your way over there. When you reach the door he just stops. As if he can’t comprehend why the door won't open. You lean out to press the doors button while still trying to support his quickly slumping body. It’s a tight squeeze for the two of you inside the small room, but you manage to get him to sit on the covered toilet seat. You make sure he’s safe to support himself on his own before you go and turn the water on. Your heart rate is rapidly picking up. You don’t know what is wrong. You haven't ever seen him like this before. When he comes back from hunts he is usually fine. You return to him when the water temperature is comfortable and kneel down in front of his body. 

“Is there anything you need me to do? I want to do something, but I-” 

“Armor. I-I need help with my armor.”

You begin with his boots, socks, and gloves. Next you move on to the beskar that covers his thighs, then his forearms, shoulders, and finally his chest. You toss each item out of the small fresher door without a second thought. The loud clang they make as they hit the ground is lost on you. The only thing you hear is your blood roaring in your ears. 

“Do you think you can do the rest yourself?” You have left him in his thick black shirt and pants and helmet. You get a small nod in response to your question. While you're hesitant to leave, you make your way out of the fresher and close the door behind you. You wait outside the door until you hear him start to move to undress himself the rest of the way and get into the shower. 

Corellia must have been worse than he let on all those weeks ago. Maker, his armor looks awful. You trace a finger over the Mudhorn insignia and flake off a piece of dirt. As the crumb falls to the floor you get an idea. You hop up and make your way over to the rags that you had been using to clean The Crest with and select the cleanest looking one of the bunch. Then you get to work. You scrub, wipe, and rub the rag over each and every piece of armor. The shower water acts as your music for this whole process. You tackle the chest piece first since it had most of the debris caked on it. You wonder what happened that caused all of these blaster marks. Sometimes the gunk was so stuck to the beskar you had to use your nails to get it off. Not even ten minutes into your cleaning process you decide to pull your hair back into a ponytail. Mando’s right; blowing your hair out of your face while you work is distracting. 

You’re on the last piece of armor, his right vambrace, when you hear the shower water finally turn off. He has to have been in there for at least an hour. There’s some small shuffling sounds behind the door, presumably him drying off, and then you hear your name being called faintly. 

“Yes?”

“Can you put your blindfold on for me, please?” He sounds like he is right up against the door as he speaks. His voice, while quiet, is unmodulated.

“Uhh sure alright.” You stand and dust your hands off before you untie your band from its normal resting spot and reposition it. “Now what?”

You hear the door in front of you open and inhale deeply. The air that comes out of the fresher is warm and smells clean and masculine. A hand softly grazes your cheek and you feel your whole body shudder. It has been so long since he touched you. Seeing him barely make it into the hull took up all the space in your mind, but now those feelings were quickly disappearing the longer he rested his hand on your face. 

“Come to bed with me?” His voice still sounds so tired. You nod against his hand. He sets something down, most likely his clothes and helmet, and takes your hand in his. He leads your blind body over to his room and opens the door. He lets you crawl in first and then follows suit. As he is getting comfortable, your hand brushes against his naked chest. A blush spreads across your cheeks as you realize the rest of him must be just as bare. You feel around by your feet and find the covers to pull them up over the both of you. He lets out a groan when the back of his head finally hits the pillow. When you move to lay back down next to him he takes your left leg and moves it to rest over his waist. Yep, the rest of his body is definitely naked. Snuggling yourself into his arm you place your hand on his chest and breathe in his scent. The soap he uses must be an infusion of fennel and pine. It mixes with his natural scent to create a soft musky aroma. You try to imprint it in your mind permanently. His body still has residual warmth left from the shower. A few drops of water from his hair drip onto your forehead and nose. You smile to yourself and scoot closer to him. Mando brings the arm you're laying on to rest by your lower back. 

“Goodnight, Tin Man.” You whisper into his neck. He doesn’t respond as sleep has already found its way to his body. 

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“I didn’t want to have to do this old man.” You crack your tear filled eyes and see Alden crouched over a slumped body. “If you had just told me where you keep the money I wouldn’t have had to hurt you or her.” He gestures to you with the still smoking blaster in hand. You selfishly wonder where he hid his original weapon: the blade.

“T-this isn’t my doing, A-alden.” The man sounds so weak on the floor. You can hear how ragged his breathing has become due to the blaster wound. “This is a mess you made a-all on your own. You chose t-to walk t-this path.”

“I grow weary of your lectures, Bumi.” Alden moves the blaster under the man's chin. “I spared her, but I have no intention of showing you the same mercy.”

“Mercy? Y-you hardly know the meaning of the word, boy.” You see the man's head sag to the ground after he breathes his last word. 

“No. NO! FUCK!” Alden stands and places both of his hands behind his head. He starts frantically pacing around and muttering things under his breath.

You feel a scream forming in your own throat at the sight before your eyes. 

“NO!” You shoot up from where you were laying on the cot. The man next to you wakes just quickly.

“What is it? What happened? Are you alright?” Mando sounds panicked as he questions you in the darkness. 

“I’m sorry I,” you try to slow your breathing. “I just had a bad dream. It’s nothing. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You feel him fully sit up next to you in bed. “Do you…do you want to talk about it?”

“No. No I don’t.” You lay back down on the pillow and dig the palms of your hands into your banded eyes until you see stars. “I want to forget, Tin Man. I just want to forget.”

Mando leans back on the cot, but props himself up on his forearm. You can feel his breath tickle the skin on the backs of your hands. He must be looking down at you. 

“I can help you forget if that’s what you want.” He traces a single finger up the front of your arm. Your body reacts to his touch before your mind does. Your palms slowly remove themselves from your face and fall to your sides. His finger detaches from your skin only to change position. He now starts to trail it up the inside of your arm. You turn to where he sounds like he is in the darkness.

“Make me forget. Please.”

Warm lips come down to press kisses to your shoulder. You exhale deeply and sink into the feeling. You bring your hand up to touch the side of his face. His beard is soft against your skin. Mando kisses up to the muscle between your neck and shoulder and lightly bites down on it. You moan out softly into the darkness and thread your fingers through his messy hair. He has barely begun to touch you and yet you already feel arousal pooling in your underwear. No man has ever been able to reduce you to such a trembling mess the way he has the ability too. One single touch and you become putty willing to mold into anything he so desires. Maker, how did you let this happen?

You turn your body on your side, cup his face in both hands, and bring him to your lips. The two of you meld together as he circles both of his arms around your body and pulls you  deeper into him. His cock pressing against you, already tenting under the covers. You moan into his mouth at the feeling of being so close to him. Your clit is already pulsing dangerously with need. He dips his tongue into your mouth to find yours. A beautiful dance erupts between the two of you. Neither one leading, simply existing together. With one hand still on the small of your back he slides his other down your pants. When he feels how wet you are through your underwear he smiles into your mouth. 

“I haven’t even done anything to you, pretty thing.”

“Then let’s change that.” You pant.

He easily glides a finger into you and you roll your head back. You lips brush his nose as you do this. Mando takes your exposed neck as an invitation to lavish you with kisses. Still pumping his finger into you he kisses his way up to your pulse point and starts sucking. Your desperate moaning is a symphony in his ears. 

“More, Mando. More.”

“Whatever you want.” He speaks your name into your skin as he slides a second finger inside you. 

“Oh fuck.” You roll your head back forward and kiss him hungrily. You start to fuck down onto his hand and chase your release. He moves his thumb to your clit and starts to rub tight circles on it. You whimper into him again and he picks up speed in his fingers. He starts scissoring them inside you. The hand on the small of your back moves up to grip your hip to aid you in moving up and down on his fingers. You feel yourself clench tightly around him as he finds your g-spot deep within you.

“I want-”

“Tell me.” He says against your lips. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to feel your cock inside me, Mando.”

He growls at your words and removes his fingers from your hole. 

“I want you to taste yourself first.” 

He slides his fingers past your lips and you suck him clean. You didn’t realize how much doing this would arouse you. Your tongue licks over each of his two fingers. His breathing gets more shallow the longer and harder you suck on them. You release his fingers from your mouth with a pop, but before he can react you throw your body over his and pin him to the cot. You slide your hands from his strong stomach to his chest and then his shoulders. His body feels tense with desire under yours. His erect cock further confirms this by being pressed firmly against your ass. 

You move your hands back to his stomach and then reach down to the hem of your own shirt. You take it off in one swift motion and toss it behind you. His stomach tightens under you as you sit bare chested on top of him.

“Beautiful. Maker, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

You feel yourself blush and shrink away at his words. You wish you could tell him the same thing. You already think he's beautiful. Well as beautiful as he can be shrouded in beskar. The way he carries himself, how he talks, the intimate way he interacts with both you and the child, and how underneath that hard shell he seems to slowly be revealing a soft interior. To you he is the most beautiful man you have ever met and yet you haven’t even gazed upon his face. 

Leaning down in the darkness you kiss his stomach hoping he can feel what you want to say through your lips. You slowly trace your tongue along his skin. He hisses out at you when you latch onto him and begin leaving sweet bruises for him to find later. You grind your ass against his hardened cock and moan. 

“I need you, Mando. I want to ride you.” 

His words get caught in his throat as you attach yourself to his skin again. 

You sit up and remove the covers that bound his thick cock. He groans as you rub yourself over him. 

“Take off your clothes.”

You do as he commands and slip off your pants and underwear before returning to your seat on his stomach.

“Better?” You coo at him. 

“Yes fuck.”

You position yourself over him and start sliding your slick folds along him. His hands shoot up to your hips and help your body find its rhythm. His coarse hair stimulates your clit and you grab onto his hands. You can’t take it anymore. You need to feel him inside of you. You rise on already shaky thighs and grab hold of his cock to guide him in. Just the tip entering causes you to clench around him. You place your hands over his again and start to slide down his length. You can feel him stretching you out. Your body is so ready for him, but it still reels from his sheer size. The two of you moan in unison when you finally take all of him inside you. After a few seconds of heavy breathing and adjusting to him you start to move your body up and down. His hands tighten on your hips with each motion. You feel his hips start to buck up to meet your downward thrusts. 

“You’re so big, Mando. I can feel you everywhere.”

He mewls at your words and thrusts up harder into you. You are gripping his hands so hard that you won't be surprised if he has crescent moon marks from your nails etched into his skin. The longer you ride the shakier your legs get, but you don’t stop. The burning in your legs is only second to the burning in your lower belly. You need to cum and you know he needs to as well.

You unlatch your hands from him and move them to his stomach. With this new change in position comes a different angle that his cock is slamming up into you at. You cry out his name as he now has unadulterated access to your sweet spot. He hits it over and over again. Your nails now dig into the skin of his stomach at the sensation.

Mando can’t help but be in awe of you. You know what you want and you're taking it. Watching your breasts bounce up and down while you ride him was a sight he knows he will never get tired of seeing. The first time the two of you had sex he had bent you over a crate so he never got to fully appreciate them. He will never make that mistake again. When you took your shirt off in front of him he was glad you had a blind fold on. He didn’t think his jaw could drop the way it did. He had to tell you how beautiful he thought you were and with the way you reacted he wondered if you had ever been told that before by a man. Or by anyone for that matter. 

“Fuck. You take me so well.” He stutters out your name.

All you can do is moan in response as you thrust your body down to meet him. He detaches his right hand from your hip and reattaches it to your clit.

“Does that feel good? Yeah? Does that feel good like that? I fucking bet it does.” His thumb works fervently on you as you will yourself to grind down faster. You can feel your climax coming quickly. You aren't sure how much longer you are going to last. 

“It feels so fucking good, please!” You scream out. 

“Cum for me, pretty thing.” 

As if The Maker himself willed it you feel your orgasm explode throughout your body. That doesn't stop Mando from continuing to mercilessly pump into you and rub your clit until you're delirious. Right when you think you're coming down from your high, another orgasm slams into you. This one is even more powerful than the last. Your walls constrict around his cock and he yells your name into the darkness as his own orgasms crests. You’re filled with the sweet sensation of his hot, thick ropes of cum filling you up completely. 

Mando’s hand still grips on your hip as your body succumbs to the pure pleasure coursing through your veins. You know there will be bruises blossoming on your skin soon with how hard he was palming you there. Your body falls forward to rest on his chest. Both of you lay there sweaty and gasping for air. His cock still resting deep inside you.

Mando kept his word. He did make you forget. The feelings of loathing, anger, and melancholy brought on by your dream have been replaced with lust, bliss, and desire. You feel good and wanted and maybe even happy? You feel his lips connect with your forehead as you lay blindfolded and weak from your multiple orgasms. You hum up to him in appreciation for what he did for you.

“Did it help?” He still sounds out of breath.

“Yeah. It really did.”

When you go to move off of Mando’s body your legs nearly give out. You let out an airy laugh as his cock slides out of you. You feel empty, in more ways than one, as he leaves you. He helps you swing your left leg over his body to settle down next to him. You feel both of your arousals mix and start to leak down your thighs. You scoot closer to him and sigh at the feeling.

“Do you want me to grab you a towel?”

“No, that's okay. I kinda like it actually.”

He lets out a small chuckle above you. He doesn’t know if he is laughing at what you said specifically or that fact that what you said already has him hardening again. You have begun to have a strange power over his body that he can’t explain.

“Tin Man?”

“Hmmm?” 

“What happened to you? Why were you so weak when you came back to The Crest?”

“I uhh,” he clears his throat. “I hadn’t slept in a while.”

“What does ‘a while’ mean?”

His hand reaches over his chest to start rubbing on your arm. He always seems to want to feel your skin. He always finds some way to have his bare hands on you whenever given the chance. It clicks in your brain that it must be because he, like yourself, is touch starved. You are touch starved by your own choice however. He is bound by his creed. Forced to hide that beautiful warm skin, that lulling unmodulated voice, those dexterous hands, those soft lips, and that full head of hair. He must want to soak up at much contact with your body as he can until he inevitably has to leave this room. Once he leaves the spell is broken and reality sets back in for the both of you.

“Maybe five days?”

“Five days?! How the fuck is that even possible?”

He only pats on your arm as you start to sit up. “I used to do it all the time when I was younger. I haven’t done it in a while though. Corellia is a rough planet so I had to stay alert as much as possible. I never knew when I would get close to the quarry or when I would be in a safe area. There aren’t many of those there so I just had to stay awake.”

“That is insane.”

“This is the way.”

“Don’t ‘this is the way’ me. Something bad could have happened to you out there and I would have had no way of knowing.”

“Awww, pretty thing. Are you saying you care about me?” He moves his hand up under your chin and holds it between his fingers.

“Well,” your words falter as you feel his lips brush over yours. 

“Well what?” He decides to torture you by kissing the sides of your mouth leisurely. 

“Well, maybe I do, but only a little.” You huff out. 

You can feel him smiling against you. He moves up to kiss the tip of your nose quickly before lying back down again. You can’t help but bury your face in the side of his chest to hide your own smile. 

“Tin Man?”

“Yes?”

“Can I touch you?”

He laughs as he talks. “Didn’t we just spend the last 45 minutes doing that?”

“No no not like that. I want to touch you.”

“I-I don’t think I understand what you mean.”

“I want to touch your face, but only if you're comfortable with it.”

You feel his body tense only slightly as your words settle in the air. You have touched his face before so it's not as if this is something unheard of. You just haven't had the ability to really explore it. You want to create a mental image of him in your mind. You want to allow him the pleasure of being touched in a way you know he desperately craves. 

“If that’s too much I don’t want to over step-”

He cuts you off. “It’s not too much. It's just that no one has done that since I was a kid.”

“Would you like me to?” 

“Yeah…I think that would be okay. Your blindfold is still on?”

“It’s been on since you came out of the fresher.”

“Then I’m ready.”

You reposition yourself until you are sitting next to him on your knees. You're fighting hard to stay focused as the change in your body forces more of Mando’s cum to slide out of you. You clear your throat and feel out for him in the darkness. When your hands make contact with his face you feel a puff of air come from his lips. The beard under your hands tickles a bit. You move your hands in a mirrored way across his face. You feel a small patch on each side of his chin that doesn't have any hair. 

“Shaving accident?”

“Actually I’ve never been able to grow hair there. It makes me look scraggly.” 

“I think it's sweet.”

You lean down and press a kiss to each of the patches in his beard before continuing your blind exploration. You move up and feel a well groomed mustache. He wiggles it under your prying fingers. He quirks his lips up to kiss each of them. You aren't sure who is supposed to be enjoying this more: you or him. You make your way up slowly to his cheeks, careful not to hit his eyes, and feel the skin there. It is so much softer than his hands you note. Untouched by the harsh world he lives in everyday. You crawl up to his nose. Oh maker what a nose. It feels like it has a deep slope that comes down to a soft curve at the end. You shiver at the idea of riding it one day in the future. Stay focused.

“What?”

“Nothing. Nothing. I just like the way your nose feels.”

“It’s so big.”

“I think it’s handsome.”

You lean towards him again and kiss all the way down the bridge of his nose. Making sure to do it unhurriedly so he knows you truly mean what you say. You travel up between his eyebrows and allow each hand to explore its respective brow. They are thick and full. When you reach his forehead you feel him scrunch it. Two prominent lines form on his skin under your hands. 

“Those are from the stress you cause me.”

“Don’t be mean, Tin Man.” You coyly chide before adorning them with kisses as well.

Finally you reach his hair. It’s so unruly right now. Part of it is still damp from his shower all those hours ago. You run your hands through it carefully so you don’t pull on a knot. You wonder to yourself what color it is. You recall back to when he showed you that scar on his arm. You remember the hair on it being dark, but not dark enough to be black. You decide to settle on deep brown for the painting you are constructing in your mind. When you are thoroughly satisfied with your exploration you remove your hands from his hair and lay them to rest on your thighs. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it? Completely painless.”

“It wasn’t so bad, but it wasn’t painless.”

“What?”

He takes your hand and moves it down to reveal how hard he has become. You brush over the tip with your fingers and feel pre-cum dribbling out. 

“You see what you do to me?”

“Well not really, Mando.” You cock your head to the side and smirk. “I can’t see anything.”

“Oh you brat.” 

He pulls you down to the cot; now it’s his turn to have you pinned on your back. His dick twitches at the joyous laughter you let out. He wonders how he got so lucky to have found you in this vast galaxy. This is the last thing he thinks before he takes you for the second time tonight.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[hirazuki]

Mairon and Arien + 30 👉👈

…as comfort | Mairon & Arien

•────────────────────⋅☾ ☽⋅────────────────────•

He holds her face firmly between his palms -- the skin she has hidden herself away in is darker, a perfect contrast to his pallor, yet runs just as hot as his own -- and presses a rough kiss to her eyes, even as she pushes at him, attempting to tear away from his grasp.

"Stay away! Did you not hear me?" Arien cries, voice crackling like the flames when they lick at wood. "I will only burn you, too!"

"How absurd," Mairon says -- not relinquishing his grip on her -- in a manner he means to be comforting.

Most, he knows, do not understand it as such.

She is not most, however -- she never has been; his sister-spirit, his twin ember, the only other one like him left in this place -- and so he has never needed to cut off the surrounding air to temper his aura lest it be too caustic, to tuck away his edges until he is easy and palatable and unsharp. Not with her; never with her.

And he is determined that she treat with him in kind.

And so he pulls her back into his arms and keeps her there, a spark flashing wild and bright, and drops his face into the soft halo of curls that crowns her head.

"I am also made of fire."

The reminder is all it takes for her to break, and she sweeps over him like ashfall or a blaze of light, wrapping herself around him and clinging to his front, leaving him to piece together the details of what happened from the roaring fragments that flare across his mind and the strain of sobs, twisting and snapping, beneath his chin.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ☽༓☾. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Later, when limbs are tangled and words have fled and she has spent herself with grief, tears falling hot and gold until she gives into slumber, he kisses them again -- gently, this time, so as not to rouse her.

The room is dark, now, the light from the hearth and the lamps having burned low in response to her quietude.

His face, as he pulls away to study hers, is darker.

She is wasted on them, who fear her; who would seek to contain her, to control her, to dampen her fire to fit neatly within their limited notions until she is nothing more than a pretty lantern, politely lighting the paved streets of their cities.

Mairon despises waste.

He lifts a finger and softly traces her brow-bone to her cheek-line and all the way down to her lips, where his attention hovers, for a moment, before he leans in to rest his forehead against hers.

There is one, he thinks, and the very thought splits him like the fiercest bolt, leaving him cloven in half and bleeding Song, for it is something that will never be. One under whose command she would flourish.

He would let her run like wildfire in dry fields, clothe herself in the molten heat under the mountains and dance with all abandon on flaming feet upon the unmelting ice; scorch the entire sky, if she so wished. Mairon knows, because he has seen it for himself: he has visited the great forges beneath the earth and the sharp mountainsides that tumble into the pines and the grinding ice with its vast dark fogs, shrieking in its song; and he has left his heart there.

She would never agree, and he knows this as well; it is the reason he has not spoken to her of the wonders he has seen in the wilderness of the far north, new and marvelous and terrible, no matter how he burns to share it with her.

No; Arien will remain here, eclipsed by treelight, safely contained in her fana like candle-flame kept tame behind panes of glass.

And he will leave, one day. Soon.

Until then, he will stay quiet -- for her sake, more than his; close as they are, ignorance will, doubtless, be difficult enough to affirm for the last spirit of their kind remaining unallied with Melkor. He will let her find rest in her unknowing and take joy in what precious little time she is unaware is trickling out, and he will hold her, close and tight and often -- for Mairon does not plan to take anything with him when he goes, save the blinding memory of her brightness and her sweet, stinging scent and the weight of her, cradled in his arms.

These, he will carry with him across the water, to warm himself by in the coming days, in times of uncertainty, in the cold places of the world, when all other fires may prove to die out.

[bi-bard]

Our Process Implies Our Progress - Dean Winchester Imagine [Supernatural]

Title: Our Process Implies Our Progress

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader

Based On: Land or Sea

Word Count: 1,246 words

Warning(s): grief, mentions of death

Summary: Hunting was sometimes a painful reminder that no day was promised to you. When (Y/n) is given that harsh reminder, Dean takes it upon himself to help them as much as possible.

Author's Note: You would think it would be easier to find gifs of Dean that would match the banner art.

Part Two of February [Release Date: 3/4/2023]

Part Three of February [Release Date: 3/6/2023]

YEARBOOK - SLEEPING AT LAST WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

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

Hunter's funerals always had this medieval sense to them.

My dad had explained to me that lighting the body on fire kept out the bad things. Allowed freedom to one's soul. Since then, I had imagined pieces of a person's soul jumping from flame to flame and then jumping onto the particles of smoke and following them to Heaven.

I knew better.

Not only did I know that it was simply to avoid possession and prevent people from turning into vengeful spirits, but I also knew very well that most people in our line of work were not going to make it to the pearly gates.

But it was still a comforting thought.

A comforting thought that I clung to. Especially when the body burning was my dad's.

That had been days ago.

I hadn't been sleeping much. I could still see the flames so vividly. Still burning just behind my eyelids. If I closed my eyes tight enough, then I could hear the crackling.

My sleep or lack thereof didn't change how the smell hung around me. Like I was wearing the clothes of some lifelong smoker. The particles had seemingly stuck to the inside of my nostrils and offered no escape. It didn't matter how much I showered, how many times I changed, how many candles I tried to light. There was no escape.

Maybe it was guilt. Guilt shaking hands with my grief.

Or maybe it was because I wasn't sleeping, so I was losing my hold on reality.

It didn't really matter at the end of the day.

After the funeral, I had confined myself to my room in the bunker. I had joined Sam and Dean when my dad started slowing down on the number of hunts he was pursuing. They allowed me a more consistent line of work.

Maybe that was selfish.

If I had stayed with my dad, then I would've been there to save him. I wouldn't have needed to get that panicked voicemail. I wouldn't have needed to burn the body.

I shook my head at the thought, trying to push it away.

"(Y/n)."

I picked up my head when I heard Dean say my name. He was standing in my doorway just barely tilting his head in.

"How are you feeling," he asked.

"How do you think?" my head plopped back down on my pillow as I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not one to make assumptions," the sarcasm dripped from each word. When I didn't even entertain him with a scoff, Dean walked in and pulled the blanket from me.

"What are you doing?" I muttered, wanting to go back to avoiding every ounce of the world around me.

"Getting you to eat," he replied. "Let's go before I have to carry you."

I grumbled before pulling myself out of bed and starting to follow him down that hall. It was a silent walk for a while. I had mixed feelings about that. I liked not answering questions but hated feeling like all I could do was drown in my thoughts.

He led me to the kitchen before pointing at one of the seats. "Sit down. I'll whip something up."

"This is just an excuse to show off that you know how to use the kitchen," I muttered as I sat down.

"Can a man not use his fancy kitchen without judgment?" Dean joked.

A chuckle escaped me before I could stop it. Dean had already turned away from me to walk toward the fridge.

"Heard that," he said proudly.

"It was a cough."

"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart."

I just rolled my eyes and rested my head on my folded arms on top of the table. My eyes closed for a few minutes, listening to Dean mutter the lyrics to some song to himself. I couldn't quite hear the words, so I couldn't make out what song it was.

I only picked up my head when I heard a plate hit the table. Dean had put together a sandwich and thrown some chips on the side.

"Would've made something fancier, but it's last minute," he shrugged, putting his own plate down and sitting across from me. "I'll prove my cooking skills soon enough."

I just nodded, picking up a chip and eating it.

We fell silent again. I had a million and one thoughts but no way to express them. Not all of them. Not properly.

I heard Dean let out a small sigh. He wanted me to talk to him, but he didn't want to push the topic. He did the same thing when he went through pain. He shut down, closed himself off. He understood it all.

I only spoke up after my chips were gone, "What do I do now?"

"What do you mean," Dean asked, setting his sandwich down and swallowing the bite he had taken.

"What do I do now," I repeated. "I... I hunted with my dad to keep him safe. I hunted with you guys so I could keep him safe. But he's gone. I failed and I... I don't know what I'm hunting for now."

"It's still him," he replied.

I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Now, you keep his memory safe. His work safe," he continued. "As far as failing goes, that's just crap.

"You are easily one of the most badass hunters I've ever seen. You made your dad proud. I saw it."

I nodded a bit. It must not have been very convincing.

"Listen. I... You had a bit more luck with your dad than I did with mine. God knows that I should be the last to talk about good fathers, but I saw your dad's face. I heard him talk about you. He was proud of you. He really was.

"Now, you hunt for him. Because you can. He had a legacy behind him. You get to hold onto it. Everything is in his name. Continue doing the work that made him so proud."

I nodded again, wiping away a few tears that had fallen. "Thank you, Dean."

"It's nothing," he kind of waved it off. "I'm gonna grab us some drinks, alright?"

"Yeah, please," I said as I took a deep breath. He grinned before pushing himself out of his seat.

I felt myself staring at his back as he got the drinks.

Dean had always been the first one to want to help me. I hated asking. I always had. But he seemed to always know exactly when to show up. He always knew when to hug me or check on me or make some seemingly inappropriately timed joke. It seemed like an instinct for him.

"You alright?"

I blinked a few times when Dean spoke up. He was suddenly not standing at the fridge with his back to me but standing next to the table again with a concerned look written on his face.

I nodded.

Dean let out a sigh before circling me. Instead of sitting across from me, he moved to sit right next to me.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," I muttered. "I just got lost in thought."

"You sure?"

I nodded.

He reached his hand over and placed it over mine. He grinned at me sympathetically. I found a small grin forming on my lips.

It felt selfish at the time, considering everything that had happened in those few days, but in that moment... something shifted in how I looked at Dean.

And it was good.

Really good.

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Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

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Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters