#THANK YOU for sending this prompt i really hope i was able to scratch that itch!!! this was a very neat and very cool prompt thank you!!!

[mirkwoodmunson]

Would you pretty please turn this picture into an Eddie munson fanfiction? I've been searching the Internet and have yet to find anything like this. If you not comfortable, I totally understand!!

me: writing break!

mailbox: 🫶

me: …..umm ANYWAY *frantic typing*

I LOVE THIS PROMPT SO MUCH U HAVE NO IDEA

tw: cursing, angst, panic/anxiety attack, dissociation, night terrors, depressed/anxious reader, post-v2 (fixit)

it takes a long time for your nights to go back to a state of semi-normalcy. a long time of regaining the ability to lay in bed comfortable and calm and eager for sleep, a long time of healing and bandages and pained tears, a long time of struggling for the smallest crumbs of comfort. but you had each other, and that made it easier of course — but it was still an uphill battle for those first few months. there was a lot of heartache, a lot of tears and strain, but far be it from eddie and you to let the darkness come out on top. you were both fighters, and when the battle got too rough for one of you, the other always managed to gather enough strength to keep the both of you pushing, moving forward. persevering.

when the darkness got the better of you, eddie was there to blind it with his brilliance.

nights… you’d come to dread them. during the day the sun could blot out your thoughts, soothe worries with its warmth, and you had things to do and places to go and people to see; the day didn’t give you the time to worry. but when night fell, when it was just you and eddie and the quiet — not that you didn’t enjoy those things, but with the night and the quiet, and the memories you and eddie now shared… nights were still sometimes difficult.

the thing is, eddie doesn’t remember that night. he doesn’t remember anything after the bats.

but you do.

you remember, and you’ve had to watch it again, and again — at first it was every time you tried to sleep, then just when you slept at night, but always sleeping during the day became a problem. then after a while, after nights started to feel somewhat tolerable, it was every other night. every few nights. you were down to once every few weeks now, but even then, the idea of just trying to get some rest had become so stressful it was just a frustrating cycle of exhaustion at this point.

and how could you bother eddie with this? he knew, but you didn’t complain beyond the initial waking up from the dreams. sure he didn’t remember that night, but he still remembered facing the bats. he still had to go through the stint in the hospital, recovery at home. you were both dealing with your individual traumas. he always assured you you were allowed to feel it too, you didn’t need to act tough around him — you’d become so quiet. so tired. he would always tell you the way through was together, that he had your back. but you still felt like it would burden him. far be it from you to be a burden.

really though, there’s only so many times you can say you’re okay when you’re not before it becomes too much to handle alone.

tonight it takes you by surprise. tonight you fall asleep in eddie’s arms, but you wake up and, you’re there. you’re in the wasteland that is the upside down and you’re running but you can’t run fast enough and there’s not enough air in your lungs. the red flashes are too bright, too disorienting, you can just barely make out the swarm.

when they suddenly drop from the air, you see the body they surround and you drop too. it’s too much, too heavy, too real — the little air you have rips from your lungs and you crawl to him, you know you can save him if you just go fast enough but you can’t move any faster, no matter how hard you scream you can’t get to him any quicker, like you’re pulling yourself through drying concrete. you hear dustin crying.

you reach, so hard your muscles pull and you cry, and you grab his vest and drag yourselves together, gripping him tight light you’re about to be pulled away from him again. you try and talk him awake but your lips move slow too, it’s muffled in your ears like you’re underwater, clogged and distant. if you’re loud enough, cry hard enough, scream loud enough, maybe he’ll wake up. your foreheads are pressed together as you beg for him to wake the fuck up —

“please wake up please wake up please wake up,” his eyes snap open and he holds your face, talking to you quickly, quietly, murmuring a pleading song.

you feel like you’re being pulled up through water.

you wheeze deep and suddenly breach the surface, gasping wildly into a dark space, but that voice remains and keeps guiding you from the murky depths; it’s soft, always soft — calling to you with a tender earnestness.

“i’m here. i’m here — you’re safe; you’re awake.”

you start to wail, and eddie leans over to turn on the lamp before pulling you into his lap, into his arms, careful but quick. he tries not to waver, not to show how startled he is — but he can’t help the tremble in the way that he holds you, the break in his voice.

“it’s okay, y/n it’s okay — i promise. you’re not there. you’re home. i’m here.”

“i-i-i — fine — i’m fine — i’m fine,” it almost hurts to speak, takes effort between the deep breaths and hiccups and sobs. eddie leans you away a bit, pushes damp hair from your cheeks and cups them in warm calloused hands that are firm but loving, urging you to look at him.

through the tears you see his eyes are wide but tired, concerned and sad and alarmed, when you try to look away he holds you still, shaking his head firmly.

“no. no sweetheart you’re not okay.”

he looks at you a moment longer before pulling you back into him as you shudder, quaking with the force of it, gripping his shirt tight to ground yourself as you weep into his shoulder.

eddie shushes you softly, holds you so tight his arms tremble and hides his face in your hair.

“i’m here. you’re safe. i’ve got you. i promise.”

“wh-what about you??”

“i’m safe too, baby. we’re safe. we’re home.”

one of his hands slides around one of yours, soothes it open to release his shirt and then guides it down to the bedsheets.

“feel our bed? the sheets?”

he takes your quieting cries as a ‘yes,’ and smiles small, kissing your temple. you’re starting to focus on him, on your surroundings.

“feel my shirt? an’ my arms?”

you nod, running your thumb over the faded black fabric held tight in your fist, full of holes and tears. you’d got it for eddie when he took you to see judas priest, the metal conqueror tour. you guys hadn’t started dating yet. some dude spilt beer on you and shouted at you for the audacity, eddie had punched him in the face, and then you’d started dating.

“hey! there’s a smile!” eddie peers down at you with a smile of his own, and you sniffle but hold it for him through the stubborn tears. “there you go. where’d that come from?”

“you,” you respond simply, tearfully.

eddie laughs softly and pulls you in again, rocking you in his arms, muttering gentle affirmations.

[scuttlingcrab]

So it's pretty obvious that Raphael would be a massive fan of luxury items. How would he react to Tav being able to make certain luxury items from scratch (such as lotions, massage oils, perfumes, soaps, etc.) and is really freaking good at it.

Maybe he learns this little fact about Tav when he receives a bundle of custom luxury items from one of his warlocks and it has a note which says, "To: Raphael. From: The mouse. A 'thank you' for the food." (assuming Tav filled a plate of food during the group's first encounter with the fiend)

Thank you for this awesome prompt. I took a liberty with this one, wanted to try something that maybe a writer hasn’t done before re: what luxury item Tav would make Raphael. I also referenced a few characters from my other stories. Marin, the composer from A Night at the Symphony and Dolofina, the warlock, from A Warlock is Born. I couldn’t resist! Hope you enjoy! And send on the next prompt if you haven’t already! :)

Summary: Raphael receives an unexpected gift from Tav.

Warnings: Mild violence/torture

––

A Perfect Fit 

(Image via violadesdragons)

The screams were like music to Raphael’s ears.

The torment that resonated from each shriek, every wail that echoed into his House of Hope, if directed well, could create a symphony that would feed Raphael for weeks. A melody almost as magnificent as Marin’s concertos. Raphael mastered what buttons to push, what minute threads to pull, to achieve perfection.

Every human was an instrument in their own right. They had a unique cord, an unsung talent, that Raphael knew how to excavate and mould. He had spent millenia fiddling with mortals, experimenting with different techniques to inflict pain or even less conspicuous means to really persecute his poor unfortunate pets. 

Nevertheless, Raphael despised it all. Torturing these creatures was so below his station, another idle role he had to play to keep up appearances in this never-ending farce to reach his objective, to reclaim the Crown of Karsus. He longed to see the players of his saga, his glorious ascension, leave the dark confines of the wings and enter the proscenium for all the planes to see.

Raphael listlessly looked up towards his current unfinished task, a withered mortal impaled on rusted spikes. No matter how hard Raphael stared at this rat, how tirelessly he worked his mind to calculate new methods to inflict agony, all Raphael could do was muster an apathetic groan in response. 

He was almost relieved to hear footsteps approaching the dungeon, identifying the bouncy gait of one of his warlocks almost immediately. Dolofina. 

Raphael smiled to himself, letting out a shallow breath as the doors slowly creaked open. He snapped his fingers, and another spike appeared, slowly lifting to meet the others.

“I do hope you have some interesting news for me. And think hard on your answer, or else I might swap you out with poor Boris.” 

Raphael turned to greet Dolofina, the whimpers of the tortured human slowly rising as he approached her. She stared back at him without any emotion, unmoved by the threat. He taught her well.

“Apologies for the intrusion, but a woman was insistent you receive this. She wouldn’t leave Korrilla alone until she confirmed we’d deliver it to you.”

Dolofina lifted the basket in her hands with a sigh, offering it to Raphael. 

“Pah! Which insolent creature is it this time? If it’s that damned–” 

“She only referred to herself as the, and I quote, ‘little mouse.’”

Dolofina seemed perplexed at the name, rolling her eyes as she waited for his response. Raphael’s mouth parted, his eyes instantly becoming more animated at the mention of her.

“Could she be crawling to me already?” So fast, and such a pity. He had been looking forward to a tussle.

Raphael gingerly picked up the basket, holding it in his hands and carefully inspecting every inch as if it was an ancient relic. What a simple little offering, merely a straw woven basket. Its contents were hidden under gold wrapping paper and held together delicately by a red bow.

“Don’t worry, we’ve already inspected it for traps.”

Raphael gave Dolofina a flat stare. 

“Do you think the creature would be so daft?”

Dolofina shrugged.

“I am merely a mortal, what would I know?” 

There was a hint of mischief in Dolofina’s eyes as she smiled back at Raphael, so pleased with herself. He growled, pointing towards the threshold of his dungeon. The skin on his human disguise hissed, verging on transformation. 

“You have overstayed your welcome. And might I remind you, I am your master. I can terminate our agreement whenever I see fit, be it from the smallest lapse in your performance. You know what that means for your future.”

“Yes, master.” Dolofina responded through tight lips. She promptly made her leave, but not without slamming the doors behind her. 

“Must every creature under my employment be so thickheaded?” Raphael whispered, taking a moment to massage the bridge of his nose. 

When Raphael was sure his boiling blood had cooled, he proceeded to focus his attention on the basket, now weighing heavy in his hands. It would’ve been a shame to have accidentally incinerated the gift with his temper, which was nearly uncontrollable in recent months, without even knowing what was inside.

Raphael started with the bow, carefully untying the knot. Once it was removed, he brought it to his nose, slowly taking in its scent. Cloves and roses. Oh how he relished it. Raphael placed the bow in his pocket and removed the wrapping paper. He discovered a small envelope sitting on top of a golden gift box. A sudden jolt of electricity shot through his veins as he opened the letter. 

To: Raphael  From: The Mouse  Thank you for the food. Please accept this gift in exchange for your hospitality. If the measurements are not sufficient, perhaps we can schedule a fitting. You know where to find me.

Raphael snapped his fingers, leaving the letter floating in the air beside him as he continued with the box. His fingers, usually so calm and still, twitched with excitement. 

Raphael gasped, removing a single doublet from the box, its red colour as dark as blood. The silk melted in his hands, the article of clothing sparkling against the roaring flames of the dungeon. Gold and silver markings were intricately embroidered throughout the jacket, infernal designs suiting Raphael’s tastes. The cuffs of the doublet were adorned with devil tails that swished and curled on a constant loop. 

“My, my, the little mouse has been busy indeed.”

And what artistry! It had been ages, no centuries, since his eyes fell on such an alluring piece. Is this what it would feel like once he held the Crown in his hands? 

Raphael snapped his fingers, the doublet now on his person. He sighed, oh it fit him perfectly, as if that creature knew Raphael’s body like the back of her hand. He raised his arms, bowed, did every possible movement that could come to his mind in that instant, and yet could find no imperfections. 

Raphael was a generous devil, perhaps often too generous. He wasn’t opposed to receiving such luxurious gifts on occasion, but it was dangerous to play with his food. He considered for a moment being harsher to his future clients. The little mouse had a long road ahead of her if she was to help Raphael get what he desired. She needed to focus. No more distractions. No more gifts. 

And yet… 

Raphael clapped his hands and a mirror appeared before him. He gave himself a little spin, grinning. It was a suitable doublet. Cursed creature! Perhaps he could make other uses of these tadpoled yet. What was that mortal saying he heard so often? Ah yes, all work, and no play… 

Raphael was pulled from his thoughts at the howls of the tortured mortal, still impaled above him. Raphael’s cheeks burned, he had been sloppy, overlooking that he was not alone.

He angrily snapped his fingers and the mortal combusted. Their screams died with the flames, leaving no signs of their previous existence as the ashes fluttered away. A waste of a soul, Zariel be damned. She’d never even notice it was missing. 

And with that, Raphael stormed out of the dungeon, proudly wearing his new doublet. 

[sunshinesteviee]

“literally running into each other holding drinks” for the meet cute prompts with baby Steve? 🥹✨

Thank you for sending this!!! Just a lil something for you ft Steve being a clumsy fool <3

-

Steve rolled his eyes as he took his drink from Robin’s grasp and turned on his heel quickly as they argued about something that had happened during their shift at Scoops Ahoy, “Robin, there is no fucking way that—”

“Steve, watch where you—”

Robin wasn’t able to finish her sentence as Steve ran straight into you, his full cup of iced coffee crushed between the two of you, causing it to explode over both of your shirts. Steve’s eyes went wide as he gasped, “Oh shit!”

You’d fallen to the floor in the chaos, landing on your butt with a gasp. Coffee was staining your shirt, and your own had spilled all over the ground, the cup now nearly empty. You weren’t mad — you hadn’t exactly been paying attention to where you were going — you were just trying to process what had actually happened.

Feeling mortified, and completely awful, Steve quickly scrambled to help you off of the floor, extending a hand out to you, “Oh my god, I’m so so sorry. I wasn’t paying any attention to where I was going.”

Finally looking up from the mess surrounding you, you found a very sheepish looking boy, who — although clumsy — was very handsome. He had kind eyes and perfect lips pursed into a concerned grimace. After a moment of hesitation (due mostly to ogling him), you took his hand and let him help you up as he rambled again, “I really am so sorry, I don’t know how—“

“It’s okay,” you shook your head, cutting him off as you dusted off your pants. You gave him a smile and shrugged, hoping to ease his worry, “I wasn’t paying attention either.”

He gave you a skeptical look, eyebrows drawing together, “Are you sure? Your shirt is drenched in coffee…”

“I’m sure! I’m just glad it wasn’t hot coffee.”

Huffing out a laugh, Steve ran a hand through his hair and then scratched at the back of his neck nervously, “Me too. Can I… can I buy you a new drink?”

You glanced at the mess on the floor as you thought about it. Your coffee was about half empty by the time it’d spilled everywhere, and as much as you didn’t need anymore caffeine, you weren’t sure you could say no to a cute boy offering to buy you coffee. This time, you were the one stumbling over your words, “Oh, well, you don’t have to do that—“

“No, no, I insist. It’s the least I can do,” he smiled sheepishly again, nodding back towards the line to order another drink. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

Robin watched in awe as you told Steve your name, and then giggled as Steve said something unintentionally suggestive about getting you a new shirt. Even though he was blushing profusely and covered in coffee, Robin made a mental note to add a tally to the “You Rule” side of the whiteboard tomorrow.

[xhanisai]

TEACHERS AU FIC

AO3

Pairing - Adrinette

Prompt - Teachers AU (please click on link for short context of AU)

Summary -

"Y-You said that twice. The last one." She couldn't look away from his hypnotizing eyes, completely submerged by his spell and she wanted nothing more but to stay like that forever if she could have it her way.

"I did, didn't I? Speaking of kissing..."

Oh no.

'Please don't say it. Please don't say it. PleaseDon'tSayIt-' Unfortunately for Marinette, luck often deserts her side when she isn't decked up as Ladybug and today was no exception.

"Yesterday night, just before you finally went to bed, you kissed me." Ah, SHIT.

"We kiss all the ti-iiiime, Chaton-"

"On the lips."

~(x)~

.

.

.

"Madame. Dupain-Cheng! Please be careful!" Cried one of her students as Marinette raised herself to her tippy-toes on the ladder, trying to reach for the items on the high shelf that was required for today's lesson. She took the time to flash an encouraging smile at her worried students, hoping that it will soothe their anxiousness before turning back and continuing to reach closer and closer (whilst simultaneously cursing her tiny, barely five-foot-something frame despite being in her early twenties). The special box of expensive paints that she bought with her hard-earned money just for her beloved students alone was scarcely grazed by her wiggling fingertips and just as she managed to successfully grab it-

SKKKKKKKKKKKKKRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

'SHIT!!!'

The agonisingly painful feeling of her ankle twisting against the direction of her bone was what she registered first before the sound and movement of the ladder tipping towards the ground, the heroine in disguise was barely able to catch her breath as she found herself plummeting downwards at high speeds without even given a chance to even brace herself or cover her head-

"MARINETTE!" Her entire body quaked almost painfully as she landed in a pair of strong, familiar arms and all the air was knocked out of her chest when the impact sent them both crashing onto the floor with the man ensuring that he took the brunt of the force, cradling her head with one hand and wrapping the other securely around her torso. The ladder slammed down hard literally millimetres away from her saviour's head, leaving behind a deafening sound against the hard, marble floor and causing everyone in the vicinity to flinch by instinct. A stunned silence was next to spread across the classroom and the only thing that Marinette could focus on was catching her breath and the feel of her hero's heartbeat battering his chest. "Thank you for bringing me here on time, Lola," Adrien finally murmured, sending a relieved look to the student who was responsible for bringing him here in the first place, her gut feelings having had feared the worst the second her teacher began to climb up the steps of the ladder which therefore made her act as a precaution. "Ma Princesse? Are you okay?" His voice grew incredibly soft and concerned when he sat them both up, cradling her face with both his hands tenderly as his scared emerald greens scanned her entire body for any injuries or discomfort; her stylishly loose clothing made it quite hard to make out anything much to his slight annoyance but he had some semblance of level-headedness to not tear off her shirt to check thoroughly (last time he did that after a really brutal Akuma battle, she almost bit his faux belt tail off in pure rage because it was her favourite blouse that she made from scratch that he shredded into pieces and because of that, she didn't even talk to him for an entire three hours). "You're not hurt are you? Can you move your limbs? Is your vision okay? Can you hear me? Marinette-"

"I...I'm fine!" She managed to squeak out but then a burning, harsh pain followed and her ankle throbbed achingly in a manner that felt like knives digging into the marrow of her bones. Marinette was too slow in hiding her grimace and the second that her partner spotted the expression, he narrowed his eyes in suspicion and clenched his jaw. "I really am okay, Adrien! You can put me down, hahah! Look- your students need you. I can see at least six of them spying through the door, wondering where you've gone." "Monsieur. Agreste! I saw Madame's ankle twist on the ladder when she fell! She's definitely hurt." Another student quipped, challenging his teacher's pouty look of betrayal with a defiant tongue sticking out of his lips. "Please make sure she stays in the nurse's room too! Last time she escaped after having that horrible dizzy spell and tried to teach us with her head on the desk!" "Sam! You're just trying to get out of the quiz I prepared for you all to take- WHOA!" Not able to finish her light scolding at her shit-eating, grinning student, Marinette found herself easily scooped up by Adrien, bridal style and her entire face went as red as her alter ego's suit. The love of her life simply frowned at her, displeased with the fact that she foolishly attempted to hide her injuries from him, again. And that she wasn't being careful. Again. "I'm taking you to the nurse's office. No argument." He ignored the way she pouted even further and crossed her arms childishly, turning to her smirking class and paying no mind to their excited murmurs. "Please make your way to my classroom and complete the assignments that Madame. Dupain-Cheng has given you. Single file, no running or loud chattering in the corridors, please. Thank you all for your maturity and for trying your best to look after your teacher."

  "Sure! Please look after Madame. Princesse for us, Monsieur!" If students were to spread gossip about how bright red Adrien's ears turned when he fast-walked out of the room, he can just claim that it was the weather. Even if it always only turned red whenever he was flustered or embarrassed. ~(x)~ "One of these days, My Lady...one of these days, you're going to give me a heart attack with how easily you find yourself in such dangerous situations as a civilian alone. I can't even count on both hands on how many close calls we've had this morning alone with you getting hurt or worse!" If he was decked up in his suit of destruction, his faux feline ears would have been plastered themselves against his soft, golden hair (which was now quite dishevelled thanks to the number of times he's run his fingers through them anxiously). "Do I need to actually take my class' silly suggestion and wrap you up in some bubble wrap so that you can actually be safe for longer than five minutes?!" He was holding both her hands now, pressing them against his throbbing chest all whilst his eyes held a frenzied spiral that could rival Marinette's whenever something didn't go according to plan. Luckily, she knew very well how to alleviate her Chaton's worries, slipping one hand out of his protective grasp and placing it on his jaw sweetly which prompted his tense shoulders to soften. "Now, that's a bit too extreme, isn't it?" She smiled, all traces of her previous annoyance completely gone as she relaxed against the pillow on the bed she was placed upon. Marinette gave his cheek a soft squeeze and it took her everything to not let out the kettle-like squeal that wanted to seep out of her mouth when Adrien pressed a loving peck against the palm of her hand.

"If it'll stop accidents like this from happening again, I will do it." The gleam in his emeralds had Marinette swallowing harshly because dammit, all it did was set fire to her trembling heart and it took all the restraints she had in her entire lifetime to not beg her partner to ravish her senselessly. She felt like a young teenager from the way the overwhelming emotions crashed and fought against one another in her veins but the ever so slightly calmer, more mature side of herself, helped her stay grounded. Even if said mature side was like a thin, weak dam that was ready to give out to the torrent of flustered feelings that wanted to rush out so badly (why can't she just be cool and collected and easily normal for once in front of her partner!?). "Since you're always here to catch me or save me on time, I don't think such precautions are necessary, hm?" Little did Marinette know that her soft, warm tone was doing nothing but causing her partner to internally explode with gooey lovesickness, testing his own restraints from getting down on one knee and begging for her to become his wife (for real!!!). He opted to quietly cough into one fist instead whilst averting his gaze for a flicker of a second. "...That may be true." He then leaned in closer, his brows furrowed once more. "But can you at least try to be more careful? Please? I hate it when you get hurt or when you're in any sort of pain." The watery, kitten eyes were back and Marinette couldn't even comprehend how a hot, stupidly good-looking, grown man like him can also be so fucking adorable. Neither of the duo paid any mind to Plagg's scoffs and off-handed remarks as he lounged lazily on the nearby desk, practically draping himself over Tikki whose quiet giggles were like quaint windchimes. "Of course, Adrien. I don't like getting hurt either, hahah!" She flicked his nose endearingly, her eyes crinkled with laughter and her bow-shaped lips a beautiful smile that never ceased to steal his breath away. "Hopefully this isn't just a ploy to avoid having to save the city as Mister Bug again by yourself~" She teased, delighted with the way he squawked in protest and the way his kissable mouth drooped into a dramatic pout. "Kidding~!" 

"You're so cruel." He poked her nose, face still wearing the mock frown and then he leaned in even closer till their noses were a hair away from grazing. "The Parisians will never be at ease if only one-half of their favourite married couple is available to fight the Akumas." His eyes turned devious, knowing he had his Lady trapped with the way she gulped audibly. "But then again...then again, I guess it is a very, very good way to fuel the very popular 'ladynoir baby' rumours that have been going around lately." "I-I-Is that so???" She was turning beet red now, her baby blues finding the little Gods that were lounging a little away from them more interesting than her partner's smug, shit-eating grin. "Purr-fectly so. Another layer to hide our secret identities that will not only fool the public but also Le Papillon too." One of his hands was now resting on her thigh, his eyes hungry for the taste of her lips and something so much more sinful. "I could fan the flames without saying a word. Maybe kiss your stomach in broad daylight...wander around in the baby aisle at the shops in my catsuit...give the Akumas ten times more hell if they dare to even touch you...kiss your stomach..." "Y-You said that twice. The last one." She couldn't look away from his hypnotizing eyes, completely submerged by his spell and she wanted nothing more but to stay like that forever if she could have it her way. "I did, didn't I? Speaking of kissing..." Oh no. 'Please don't say it. Please don't say it. PleaseDon'tSayIt-' Unfortunately for Marinette, luck often deserts her side when she isn't decked up as Ladybug and today was no exception. 

"Yesterday night, just before you finally went to bed, you kissed me." Ah, SHIT.

"We kiss all the ti-iiiime, Chaton-"

"On the lips." As if to emphasise his point, he tapped her own rosy pair with his pointer finger and then proceeded to drag her bottom lip down ever so slightly. His face continued to hold the essence of his devil-like side but the curiosity and raw hope burned brighter in his features, giving her a glimpse of his vulnerable side. "Why did you kiss me, Marinette Dupain-Cheng?"

"W-We've kissed before on the lips too!" "To break each other out of spells and enchantments during Akuma battles, yes. To keep up with the illusion that we're married as Ladybug and Chat Noir to the city, yes." He tapped her lip again. "But this is the first time that Marinette Dupain-Cheng kissed Adrien Agreste on the lips with no prompting and no plans involved. And it wasn't just a quick peck- it was a nice, long, sweet kiss. Why?" He's given her no room to run or to hide both physically and metaphorically. He was merciless despite the way her complexion has bloomed in a shade that was outstandingly red and he was determined to find out the truth right there and then. All she needed to do was to finally confess how madly in love she is with him (how she's been in love with him since the day they first met) and then she'll finally be free of the secret's weight. However, she also has zero experience with even being attracted to someone, let alone falling in love until she met him and the idea of taking such a huge leap of faith from the comfort that's loving him secretly absolutely terrified her. How would he react? What would he say? What if he rejects her? What if this tarnishes the amazing relationship they currently share as both their civilian selves and heroic selves? What if this changes everything she ever knew and loved in the worst ways possible? Marinette just couldn't fathom the idea of losing this amazing, wonderful man who has brought light to her once static world and she would rather hide under a rock for the rest of her life than confess to him just how much he means to her. She was frightened of the unknown and even the sight of his kind, comforting face wasn't enough to give her the courage to speak the truth. .

Little did she know, Adrien was stuck in the exact same boat too- the blond just as bamboozled with how he's fallen so deeply and so preciously in love with his talented, insanely intelligent and breathtaking partner (as if he was born just to love her). Though, with the way she kissed him the other night and held him as if he's the one thing she loves more than life, he was given newly found confidence to actually address it and ask about her intentions behind it. Unlike Marinette who prefers to follow her brain and avoid as many risks as possible, he very much preferred to follow his heart and take on all the risks that are thrown at him if he thought it was worth it towards the end. And loving Marinette Dupain-Cheng is worth everything to him. "That kiss made me really happy, you know. Really, really happy." He added, hoping that it'll give his Princesse the morale to answer (praying to every single omnibenevolent deity out there that he really wasn't just seeing things, that his feelings may actually be mutual all along). The determination that was quick to place itself on her face made his heart skip many beats and when she finally opened her mouth to talk-

"AKUMA ALERT! AKUMA ALERT! PLEASE EVACUATE THE PREMISES OF THIS BUILDING IN A CALM AND SAFE MANNER!

PLEASE EVACUATE THE PREMISES OF THIS BUILDING IN A CALM AND SAFE MANNER!"

The deafening blare of the school's alarm rang through the entire building which was then followed by an explosion and high-pitched screaming, coming from the other side of the architecture. Adrien silently cursed the villain of the day for their terrible timing and he certainly wasn't blind to the relieved sigh his partner let out, his brow twitching with irritation whilst she had the gall to look sheepish.

He was absolutely, definitely, NOT going to let her get away so easily just like that. "Pass me your earrings. You hold onto the ring and Plagg will look after you. You cannot even stand, let alone fight in this battle, Marinette." His tone left no room for argument, the duo quickly exchanged their miraculous and the taller of the two transformed into Mister Bug. He checked the scene outside through the window, his heart lightening with the sight of the Akuma rampaging with a giant paint gun and heading towards the tower (which meant that his partner will be safe and sound in the building as he fights). "You've got this, Chaton." Though her face was still coloured with a sakura hue, the grin she wore was reassuring and her baby blues held an encouraging twinkle on his behalf. She believed in him. "Stay here and stay safe, ma Buguinette." By instinct, he bent down to kiss her head, earning an adorable hum from his delighted partner (and continuing to ignore Plagg's snarky commentary). Before he could leap away with a quip laced with puns and a single swing of the powerful bandalore, Mister Bug was shot with a sudden idea. . "Adrien? What's wrong? Do you need me to join you as Lady Noire after all- mMMMPH!?" Marinette was met with a hot, steamy kiss by none other than the love of her life and all she could do at that moment was flutter her eyes shut and melt and enjoy the delicious sensation like a young teen experiencing her first kiss. His gloved hands cradled her face protectively as his eager lips parted hers over and over again, tracing the rims of her rosy mouth with his greedy tongue, all whilst breathing in her pleasant signs and the spiced vanilla scent that always lingered on her skin. "A-Adrien?" He didn't give her a chance to take another breath as he captured her kiss-bruised lips once more, chasing after her tongue in her mouth and deepening the kiss in a manner that sent dangerously amorous thoughts and feelings through the both of them.

Sweet, sweet, sweet, she was so sweet. Reluctantly, Mister Bug pulled away from the kiss (his mind practically throttling his heart from pressing any more of his impulsive buttons for the sake of Paris and its citizens). The smile he wore was borderline Satanic and the sight of Marinette's dilated eyes, flushed face and bright pink lips only filled him with enough glee to last him at least nine lifetimes. 'Mon Dieu...she looks like se-' He didn't dare to finish off his hormone-riddled thoughts, knowing fully well that if he stayed here for a second longer, he wouldn't be tearing off Marinette's shirt to check for any injuries this time around. "What was that for?" She asked, all whilst looking so freshly kissed and so dazed and just so dreamy. Her eyes sparkled in all the best ways possible and the urge to kiss her all over her face was so strong, the hero had to dig his fingers into the palms of his hands to stop himself from getting so distracted and to focus on his half-baked plan. That's right. "If you tell me why you kissed me, I'll tell you why I kissed you~!" His cocky answer was more than enough to snap the heroine out of her stupor, her face reddening all over again with both embarrassment and exasperation, unable to believe that her stupid, silly partner was now resorting to this level of playfulness to get what he wanted. He didn't let her even splutter out an answer or a retort, pausing by the window with a smile that was downright demonic. "Also, if the Ladyblogger asks me why you weren't present at the battle, I'm going to tell her that you're carrying twins~!" "What!? That's a stupid idea! I don't even look pregnant, let alone with twins! How are we going to explain the lack of a bump to the public if you go around saying stupid things like that!?" She honestly should have expected what he said next after that mind-blowing kiss he gave her. "Then I guess we should start making babies tonight to make it true~" . And then he was gone, leaving behind one bright red-faced Marinette Dupain-Cheng and one cackling little God of Destruction. . . . "Plagg...does this mean that...Adrien likes me...?" . Plagg proceeded to stop laughing. . . . ~(x)~

[littlemissmanga]

hi! saw your 200 word blurbs requests!

can I get #9 or #1 with Jesse? whatever floats your boat, I’m sure I’ll enjoy it either way!

thanks for considering!!

Send me one of the following for a 200 word clone drabble

Nonnie!!!! I did NOT forget about you! I had this in my drafts and I thought I had posted it. Thank you so much for your patience!!

As much as Jesse would love to see you in his shirt, I haven't done No. 9 yet, and I think it's time someone got tied up.

Pairing: Jesse x gn!Reader

W/C: 828 (I did not hold back on this even a little bit and I'm not sorry at all).

Warnings: M, Juicy Jesse being himself. Talk of bondage, filthy desperation, just absolute filth and sin, but no action. just the promise cause I'm a horrible tease :) Minors DNI

Divider by @samspenandsword <3

Also, this functions as a pt 2 to the Jesse kiss prompt :)

Dinner was only half done. The table still wasn’t set. You hadn’t even changed into the cute outfit you bought just for tonight. But with the way Jesse was kissing you, you doubted any of that mattered to him.

It’s his fault for not calling, anyway.

So, you decided not to let it bother you, either. You melted into his kiss, molding your lips to his as his gloved hands slid underneath your shirt, the rough fabric scraping deliciously across your skin. The rough stubble of his jaw chafing your lips and chin, but each scratch just fueled your need. The burn was a constant reminder, even when he pulled away to pant against you, that he was here. Home. Safe.

“Bed. Now,” he barked, his command only undercut by the breathlessness of his voice. Your stomach swooped at the total control he kept over himself, even as his need became evident. You planned on making him a little needier.

He was so fun when he lost control. And you wanted to be taken for a ride tonight.

With a flirty smile, you quickly shut off the stove, Jesse’s presence looming behind you, silently urging you to move faster. He was at his limit, and you loved it. Now he needed to bring you to yours.

You took his hand and pulled him into your room, letting go and slipping your shirt over your head. You turned away from him to face your bed to strip off your pants as you heard his armor falling to the floor.

Waiting …

Any moment now …

A low growl rumbled from behind you as a warm, bare chest pressed to your back. You held your breath to stop the shiver from racing down your spine.

“Mesh’la?” His tone was unnaturally calm considering, and you knew you wouldn’t be walking much tomorrow.

“Yes, baby?”

“Why is there rope next to the bed?” Jesse asked as if inquiring about the color of the bedsheets, nipping lightly at the tops of your shoulders.

“Oh, that.” Your Cheshire grin had taken over your face as you turned in Jesse’s grasp. “I wanted to do something special to welcome you home.”

The Republic cog tattoo on his forehead shifted as he raised a cocky eyebrow. “And you’re planning on tying me up?”

“Hm, maybe. If you’re good,” you tease, giving the tip of his nose a gentle peck and earning a chuckle from him. “But actually, you said something on our last call …”

Tilting the tone at the end of the last word, you let your voice fade, the embarrassment of actually saying what you had in mind stealing your words. You looked at him expectantly, hoping your smart ARC trooper would remember the words he let slip so casually that had you teasing yourself in his absence several times over the past few days.

Jesse’s eyes — the ones you insisted were the “kindest in the GAR” despite being shared by so many others — sparkled with mischief.

“Go on, gorgeous. Tell me.”

He wasn’t going to go easy on you. Not that you really wanted him to. You could already feel yourself getting wet at being forced to admit your desires.

“You said you …” You paused and leaned forward to bury your face in his neck, taking in the scent of regulation soap and sweat that was uniquely your Jesse. Liking it or not, you still weren’t able to look at him directly just yet. “You said you can’t wait to see how many times you can get me to come.”

You damn near purred as his arms came around you, holding you nice and tight as his hand traced your spine.

“I did. And I plan on finding out tonight,” Jesse promised in a low voice, his lips right next to your ear. “But that doesn’t explain the rope.”

You nestled closer, running your tongue wide and wet over his Adam’s apple. You felt his cock twitch against you through his blacks.

“If I’m tied up, I can’t pull away.”

Jesse spat a curse as he lifted you and tossed you roughly onto the bed. In a flash, he was on top of you, pinning you beneath him. He reached between you to run a single, thick finger along the seam of your underwear, making you writhe against him.

“Oh yeah, can’t have you squirming now, can we?” He teased, but you couldn’t answer as his finger pressed harder against you. “You wanna be all tied up like a pretty present for me so I can thoroughly ruin you?”

You nodded frantically, delighting in the wicked smile that spread over his face. Jesse leaned to the side, grabbing the rope and pulling it through his hands just to see your eyes widen at the sight.

“Well, then. Let’s get started.”

Taglist: @dreamie411 @wings-and-beskar @starrylothcat @blueink-bluesoul @wolffegirlsunite @secondaryrealm

[wishing-stones]

ahdifejbd you know I always get so stressed sending requests for meme things cause I’m always 10000000000% convinced that I’m going to be the 38th jerk to ask the exact same thing SO I am sending two letters that I think would be interesting ONLY because I am giving you the option to Choose One - NOT because I am asking you to write both!

I think Dream with B or C could be interesting in different ways!

B. Under cover of darkness. (Sunshine Boi Bein’ Sneaky sounds fun as heck. What kind of circumstances would require for him to do a sneak in the dark?)

C. A moment’s respite. (What do *you* imagine a moment of rest would look like for the guy who’s chronically Duty Bound to literally the whole multiverse?)

Again - pls pick *one* that suits your fancy OR one that hasn’t been picked already if someone else beat me to the punch lol. Happy Turkey Weekend, Friend! And pls take your time over the holiday weekend! Don’t overwork yourself!!!

Hahahaha, I think I'll go with C for him since I did B for Baggs already. Space out my same-prompts some.

I'll pick one later for myself once I've answered the bulk of these

C. A moment’s respite.

He's thankful for his little corner of the multiverse. He owed Ink a lot for helping him claim it and bring it to life.

The little cottage, perpetually bathed in the warm light of golden hour, is the perfect little place for him. He has enough spare rooms to house a few people, and his two best friends have their own spaces as well.

He has his gardens, his orchard, and his small stable with a single cow.

It was nice to be able to have such a comfortable home to return to. One that didn't remind him of his past failures, one that didn't reek of sorrow and death and anger. One where he could enjoy the warmth on his bones and the peace of birdsong and crickets.

As much as he liked to keep busy here by gardening or by general upkeep...

Today he was taking time to lay on one of the golden hills in the soft grass, listening to the wind quietly hush over the blades and petals of wildflowers. He was kicked back with his sockets closed, skirting towards the edge of sleep, completely at ease.

He'd been all but bullied into taking a day off-- no duty to the multiverse, no busywork in the garden-- they would take care of that-- and no worrying about anything. He'd started the day off with a long soak in his favorite bubbles and oils, and followed it up with reading beneath the largest apple tree in his orchard. Now, he was contemplating a nap in the sun, reminded of simpler times when such days of leisure were common.

It was only slightly painful to think about them, and to lack his brother to enjoy such a moment with.

... Perhaps Nightmare was similarly enjoying a day off. Stars knew that he had luxury in spades in his dark, imposing fortress. Grand marble baths, gilded chaises, massive hearths and wine aplenty.

Wine did sound appealing. Maybe he'd break a bottle of blush open later, at dinner.

It was the one thing he'd managed to negotiate with his friends-- he would be the one to make dinner for them all. Ink could create very fine foods from thin air, and Blue... was not as bad as he used to be.. but Dream took a special pleasure in cooking things from scratch. It was as relaxing to him as laying here, beneath the sun was.

He didn't know what time it was, nor did he really care. He could afford not to today.

He was fortunate to have such good friends. Perhaps his brother was similarly fortunate-- he could afford to take a day of leisure with his underlings handling whatever serious issues might crop up.

He hoped.

The one thing that would put the cherry on the top of the day would be the knowledge that Nightmare had similarly taken a day for himself. Perhaps Killer could harass him away from his perpetual mountain of paperwork. Maybe Dust could ensure he took time to relax. Cross could remind him of the many luxuries the castle had to offer, and Axe, naturally, handled all the food.

His phone was on silent today, but he retrieved it momentarily to contact Cross, texting him to maybe, gently, get him to take the day off.

[Cross] Don't worry about it, Killer has it handled. I think he's soaking in that huge spa bath he has right now.

With a content sigh, Dream pocketed his phone and curled up on the plush grass, tipping his circlet partially off of his head and drifting off into a well-earned, completely content nap.

[lonesome-witching]

Talent at Hawkins High

Another day, another prompt. This was an anonymous prompter that asked for a rich Robin and poor Nancy AU. So, that's what this is. Thank you for the prompt.

You can read my previous prompts or send me some new ones.

It was slightly frustrating. Nancy really wished it wasn’t. She wished she didn’t care. She wished she could be content with what she had. She also wished she had a car and nice clothes and money to get a damn perm like all the girls in school.

Not that Robin had a perm.

Robin Buckley, the reason for most of Nancy’s envy. Because Robin had a car and a nice one too. Robin had expensive clothes and tons of jewelry. She wore a ring on each of her fingers. They were nice fingers. Not that Nancy spent her time staring at Robin Buckley’s hands.

She didn’t!

Even if she did, that wasn’t the point. The point was that Nancy hated Robin because she needed to hate something. She needed to blame someone for her own messed up life. It was easier to hate Robin than it was to recognize it wasn’t one person’s fault.

The biggest problem was that Robin was so fucking nice.

“Nancy.” Robin was walking up to her. Nancy wanted to flee. “Nancy, I’m so glad I’m able to catch you. I was hoping you’d want to hang out after school. I’m having this little get together at my place. It would be better if you were there.”

“You’re having a party?”

“Something like that.” Robin scratched the back of her neck. She seemed perpetually nervous.

“I won’t know anyone there.”

“You’ll know everyone there. It’s only people from school.”

“Robin,” Nancy sighed.

“I know, I know, you are not in the mood. You barely know me. You have studying to do.”

“Not studying exactly. I have work.”

“Work? I didn’t know you worked. Where do you work?”

“Benny’s.” Nancy gave Robin one of her trademarked tight-lipped smiles. Usually, it was enough to send Robin on her way.

“The diner?”

Nancy nodded. She wanted this conversation to be over. She wanted Robin to keep walking. She wanted to head to class or to head home or to hide in the bathroom for as long as she possibly could.

“I haven’t really been there before. How is the food?” Robin asked, smiling.

“It’s diner food.”

“Alright.” Robin took a step back. “See you around, Nancy Wheeler.”

Nancy turned away.

-

She was going to scream. She was wearing that dirty apron and the stupid pink dress they made her wear, which was bad enough on its own. But now she was forced to talk to Robin while in those stupid clothes.

The only slight consolation was that Robin had come alone. She wouldn’t make fun of her. Not like some of her friends would.

“Good evening, are you ready to order?” Nancy said with a robotic voice.

“I’ll have the cheeseburger with fries and a large coke and your telephone number.” Robin looked up with this dopey smile.

“I thought you had a party.”

“Something came up.”

“Alright, one cheeseburger with fries and a large coke. Coming right up.” Nancy turned on her heels, leaving Robin behind.

It was only for a few moments. There weren’t enough costumers around for her to stall. First the coke, then the food. Robin ate in silence. Occasionally, Nancy caught Robin looking over at her. She wished it made her uncomfortable.

“Do you need anything else?” Nancy’s scowl had vanished one cheeseburger ago.

“Are the milkshakes good?”

“It would be a little odd if I said no, right?”

“It might be honest. You strike me as the honest type, Nancy Wheeler.”

“Vanilla and chocolate are fine. Strawberry isn’t too bad if that is something you are into. Anything else might make you puke.” It was easy to be honest with Robin. It shouldn’t be easy to be honest to Robin Buckley.

“You see, honest!”

Nancy cocked her head, shooting Robin a slight smile.

“I’ll get a chocolate milkshake then. Would it be presumptuous to ask for your number again?”

“Probably.” Nancy turned around, leaving Robin’s table.

She was debating it. She truly was considering giving Robin Buckley her phone number. It didn’t have to be a big deal. She could just scribble down the number of the main line and have it over with. She didn’t have to give the number of her private line that her uncle had installed over the summer. Low cost, high rewards, he had said. She had only given that number to three people: her best friend Barb, Jonathan in case something was wrong with Mike and Mike, in case he had to be picked up from the Byers’ place.

Barb was the only one who ever called.

Nancy scribbled down the digits on a napkin. She wasn’t sure if it was going to be a good idea.

“There you go,” Nancy put the milkshake on the table, “one chocolate milkshake and one phone number.”

-

The phone was ringing. Nancy was already reaching for the yellow phone attached to the wall when she realized her mistake. It wasn’t the main line. She rushed into her bedroom.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Nancy. It’s Robin.”

“That’s fast.” Nancy fell down on her bed.

“I’m a little impatient.” Robin sounded like she was smiling.

“I guess it’s good you’re calling. This way I can thank you for that generous tip you left. You didn’t have to do that, Robin.”

“I know I didn’t have to, but the service was truly excellent.”

“Oh, really?”

Robin didn’t reply for a second. Nancy could imagine her nodding her head with that bright smile on her face. One of her fingers tangled into her phone cord. It was easy to forget she hated Robin when she was 50 dollars richer with Robin’s smile on her mind and her raspy voice in her ear.

“Uhm, sorry. Yes. Yes, the service was excellent.” Robin slightly stumbled over her words.

“Well, thank you for the compliment. I can’t say I’ve heard that one before.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, no one has ever said they thought I was good at my job. They only keep me on because no one else wants to do it.” Nancy’s teeth softly pressed into her bottom lip. She probably shouldn’t enjoy this so much.

“Maybe you just gave me special treatment.”

“We both know I wouldn’t,” Nancy laughed.

“That might be true.”

“So, why is the magnificent Robin Buckley calling mere peasant Nancy Wheeler?”

“You’re not a mere peasant, Nance.”

“Nance, huh?” Nancy wasn’t upset at the nickname. She felt this warm feeling in her stomach when Robin had said it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean— I just meant that you aren’t a mere peasant, Nancy. You are much more magnificent than I could ever be. I might have the money, but I lack the talents you possess. Like I was reading that article you wrote about the spirit of Hawkins High and it was exquisite. I almost believed we were all one big community.”

Nancy would have loved to counter with a witty joke. She couldn’t. “You read that?”

“Of course, I read it. I’m a big fan of the school paper.”

“Oh, really?”

Robin giggled softly. “Yeah, you can quiz me if you’d like.”

“Alright,” Nancy replied. “What was on last week’s front page?”

“VICTORY! Young tigers win for the first time in 25 years!” Robin lowered her voice to sound like a news reporter or maybe just to sound silly. Nancy laughed.

“You truly do read the paper. You might be the only one.”

“I doubt that. But that’s not the point. The point is that your writing is much too good for a stupid school paper. Most real newspapers aren’t even that good. You’ve got a real talent, Nancy.”

Nancy wasn’t sure what to reply. She wanted to compliment Robin, tried to think of any quality she was aware of. But Nancy didn’t know enough about Robin to think of anything.

“You’re very pretty.” It slipped out.

“I— what?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.” Nancy covered her face with her hands. She considered hanging up. But if she hung up now the words would linger between them.

“You’re pretty too.” Robin rushed out the words, like ripping off a band-aid. “I did mean to say that.”

Nancy felt her heartbeat speed up and before thinking through her actions, she threw the receiver down. She turned into her pillow and screamed.

-

Talent at Hawkins High Some students are more than they seem. One such example is our very own Robin Buckley. A girl who is much more than a fat wallet and a pretty smile. Not only does Buckley get straight A’s, she also speaks four languages fluently. But her talents aren’t limited to the academic. Most students will be able to admire Buckley in Hawkins’ marching band. She is present at every single game to delight the audience with a tune on her trumpet. Some might say Buckley is a greater entertainment than the sport’s match they have come to see. All in all, Robin Buckley is an extraordinary person. We should all aspire to be more like her.

Robin folded the school paper, dropping it into her locker. She had never aspired to be put into the student of the week column, but even if she had, she wouldn’t have expected this. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed brown curls.

She turned, just to see Nancy Wheeler looking at her with a nervous expression on her face. Robin lifted her hand and waved. For the first time Nancy waved back.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Fickle Warmth in a Freezing Storm

Hi! I love all your fics so so much, especially how you write Merlin and Arthur! I don’t know if you’re still taking prompts but if you are (and if you’re comfy writing it, no pressure!) could you do a self harm one where Merlin wants to cut but instead he scratches / accidentally-on-purpose burns himself or some such? And the knights and Arthur have to explain to him that that counts as self harm and maybe he gets upset because he’d thought he was doing so well by not giving in to the urge? Obviously only if you want to, thank you for all your lovely writing <3 – anon

Hey, I have a Merlin prompt if you’d like it: a magic reveal happens around the same-ish time that the knights and Arthur find out that Merlin’s suicidal, so when they start keeping a close eye on him he gets the wrong idea and thinks they don’t trust him because of his magic. Cue Merlin getting even more depressed and pushed closer to the edge. And maybe when he realises what they were really doing, he can’t understand why they don’t want him to go through with it? If you want to write it, thank you in advance <3 – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: depressed character, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, self-harm

Pairings: merthur

Word Count: 3871

The snow bites into his cheek. The wind carves his cheekbone as he hunches his too-small shoulders. The cloak wrapped haphazardly around his neck flaps and snaps in the gale, threatening to choke him. He can’t even summon the strength to grit his teeth.

Undead legs move on.

“You have magic.”

The first words he remembers upon waking, enough to send a jolt down his spine. He flinches and promptly cries out as his limbs shudder painfully.

“Hold still,” he hears the voice bark, and forces himself prone. “That’s better.”

He blinks a few times and Arthur’s stern face swims into view. In an instant, his heart sinks. This isn’t how he wanted Arthur to find out—to know just how badly Merlin’s betrayed him for years. He can only hope that the King is still the man he’s been privileged to know, and won’t run a dying man through on his deathbed.

Belatedly, he realizes that Arthur is expecting some form of an answer.

“Yes,” he croaks with a ruined voice, “yes, I have magic.”

Arthur’s jaw works. “Can you heal with it?”

“Y-yes. I can try.”

He nods sharply and jerks his chin towards Merlin’s front. With great effort, he moves his head just enough to see the bandages wrapped around his forearms.

“Fix it.”

Another sickness curdles in the base of Merlin’s stomach, but he dare not disobey.

“Yes, sire.”

***

He stopped being able to feel his legs…hours? Days? Weeks ago? He doesn’t know anymore. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he keeps going.

The storm howls in his ears, more knife-like gusts of wind cutting through his tunic, to his skin, to his bones. The ache of the gale against the weak skin of his face gets icy fingers underneath and pulls, trying to pick him apart, piece by piece.

He long ago lost the ability to shiver.

***

The knights shadow him now. Gone are the days where he could hope to walk through the castle unattended, instead armored footsteps and blood-red cloaks trail his every movement. Out of pity or mercy, he cannot decide which, it is the Knights of the Round Table who form his constant guard.

He surprises himself by being able to deal with the stoic quiet of Elyan and Percival, even the almost sullen nature of Lancelot. Gwaine’s change is more difficult: harsher orders and rougher touches belie just how much his betrayal has shaken the core of the knights, how he catches Gwaine looking at him only when he thinks Merlin can’t see.

He wishes Gwaine would shout, strike, do something more, but why should he deserve the catharsis of punishment?

No, the worst of them all is Leon.

***

Snow piles up and sticks to his legs as he limps into the oncoming storm. Each step weighs him down more, the slight difference in temperature acting like cement as the misshapen things he once called feet gain more and more with every inch he gains. The storm aches to swallow him, he can feel it in each ravenous howl. Louder. Hungrier. With mocking and euphoric fury. It’s agonizing and bloodcurdling and he hasn’t enough blood left in his ears to curdle.

He has a fleeting, hysterical wonder about whether he might taste good.

***

Leon notices. Leon has always noticed, has always been far cleverer than Merlin, in his arrogance, had ever expected.

Gaius was right, his foolishness did bring about his demise.

The worst part of Leon’s perception is that he thwarts Merlin’s attempts to do them all a favor. With the others, it was easy to stumble into a door, graze himself on the sharp metal. Or wander too close to a passing animal and receive a bite on his shoulder. Or even when polishing the swords, not that they ever let him handle such sharp objects for very long, to just let his fingers slide against the edge and whet his selfish appetite just once more.

Leon sees. Leon always sees.

The hand that guides him from the walls is devastatingly tender. The words that still the unsuspecting animal are brutally soft. The look that he gives him when he takes the sharp objects out of reach flays him far more effectively than the keenest blade.

Leon is, at his core, an honorable man, and that will haunt Merlin for his every waking moment from this until his last.

He tries once, to flee. He does not use his magic, because he is a coward and his magic has always been more loyal to those who deserve it. He breaks from Leon’s gaze and sprints for the abandoned corridor, heart in his throat, lungs burning.

He barely makes it three steps.

If it were just the press of metal against his hips, it would be fine. If it were just the ache of the stone under him, it would be fine. If it were just the bite of the sword against his neck, it would be fine.

But there’s a hand under his head to cushion the fall. The sword is removed almost as soon as he feels it. Leon looks at him, not with the cold, hard eyes of a knight, but the soft and knowing gaze of—of—

He never tries to run again.

***

The snowflakes sting where they strike his bare skin. The sodden thing around his neck is like a brand of its own, icy water clinging and digging into every spare crevice it can find. The howl rises to a scream. Is he still in the forest? Did he manage to make it past the frozen lake? Are the howls in his ears the wind or his own memories?

With a dishonorable instinct, one of his hands raises to his chest, trembling not from the cold, but with the shame of self-preservation. His lips move against his will to soundlessly ignite a flame. The gold in his eyes is lost in the white.

The flame splutters against the onslaught and Merlin feeds it his fingers. The burn is almost identical to the corrosion of the cold, but it makes his traitorous lips smile.

***

He discovers it on accident.

He’s in Gaius’s chambers, with Percival standing by the door, trying to mix a poultice for one of the new orders. He’s holding the flask over the flame when all of a sudden, a gust of wind comes in through the window and the flame licks his hand.

The rush of sensation is staggering.

Quickly, he glances over at Percival. He doesn’t seem to have noticed anything. He swallows.

Feigning a casualness he doesn’t feel, he leans over under the guise of pulling the book closer to him and lets his hand drift over the flame. It licks greedily at his pale skin once more, turning it red and raw in mere moments.

He moves it back before Percival can see what’s going on, but he tucks the information into some corner of his wretched mind.

His fingers grow blistered and scarred and his magic grows timid and restless.

***

Were he a better man, he would’ve found the courage to kneel before Arthur and ask for a quick death. Were he a lesser man, he would have shrunken in on himself and allowed his magic to waste away until he could breathe again.

But he is only himself, for better or for worse, and so he wanders through the storm as a revenant until the winds swallow him whole.

***

In the end, it is painfully easy to find an excuse good enough for Gaius to get the knights off of his back long enough to disappear from Camelot.

Another Merlin might have been dismayed at how many sorcerers with ill will targeted Camelot with harmful spells and curses, but this Merlin is relieved that perhaps he might have one more chance to be useful. A curse of an ancient tempest, roused from eternal slumber, sends catastrophic storms across the lands until Arthur decides that something must be done.

Merlin, who had felt that it was magic from the moment the first clouds formed, turned to Gaius and said that there wasn’t much time.

They had ransacked the illegal books that Gaius would never throw away until they found tale of an endless icy storm that belied the true heart of the spirits responsible. If one could travel deep into the perilous wasteland and reverse the enchantment placed upon the crystal, the spirits would be put to rest and the storm would end.

Gaius had looked at him and said he could only buy him so much time.

Merlin had said that a few hours was all he needed.

His magic had grown discontent and sulky over the long months since its discovery, but as Merlin set out to put an end to the curse, it surged forth with renewed vigor. He couldn’t blame it, not when his own heart soared at the thought of saving those he cared about, but when it came at the price of wounds healing, strength returning, and health improving, he can’t help but resent it.

He really is despicable, isn’t he?

That’s why his mission here is two-fold. One: to bring an end to the curse plaguing Camelot, so that the innocent people would no longer have to suffer for the crimes of those for whom they were not responsible. Two: to rid them of the despicable thing that slid into the King’s chambers and leeched his poison throughout the castle.

And…perhaps, because he is alone with his own selfishness, he can admit that he’s too much a coward to let himself carry on another time.

The first part had been easy enough. His magic had guided him past the worst of the gales and to the crystal at its center. Reversing the enchantment had been simple. The worst of the storms had subsided completely, leaving only the last of them to blow themselves out. And, to cap it all off, his magic had viewed that as the end of it, almost leaving him completely.

Now, if only the storms had the decency to finish the job.

***

Memories…memories…

The feeling of Gaius’s hand on his shoulder as they read through the books. The faint smell of old herbs and leather as the books groaned when their pages were turned.

The sweet smell of flowering grass as the knights trained on the field. The slight flash as the sunlight caught their armor, or their blades, as the wind caught their laughter and carried it high into the air.

The warm crackle of the fire in Arthur’s chambers on a cloudless night. The soft scratch of quill against paper as he hums under his breath.

Where had he gone wrong? Was it the first time he raised a hand, not to defend himself, but to attack? Was it the first lie he told, not to save himself, but to inflict it upon another? Was it the first life he took, or the second, or the hundredth?

Had he become despicable, or had he just realized he was?

He remembers quite clearly the first time he thought about dying. It was the first day, when he’d arrived and saw the sorcerer executed. He’d thought about what it might feel like, taste like, smell like, as the flames ate through him. He doesn’t remember when it became an instinctive thought, only that he turned around one day to find it as much a part of him as his shadow.

He remembers a smooth lake, a boat, a rose dying in his hands, and the impulse to set himself ablaze and drown beneath its depths.

Was it a blessing, that they’d finally discovered his magic and now had tantamount reason to despise him? Or was it a curse, that they would only look at him more now as an untrusted thing? Was it Destiny, reaching out to screw him over one last time, or his own ineptitude, that even She didn’t want anything to do with him?

The howl of the wind and the soft crunch of a body hitting the snow.

***

”Merlin? Merlin!”

“Christ, he’s freezing.”

“Get him wrapped up, get the spare blankets, now!”

“He’s not going to make it all the way back, we’re too far.”

“We can’t stay here, the storm is still coming.”

“Back to the forest, if we can make it deep enough in, we might be able to find some cover.”

“Hurry, get him up off the snow.”

“Careful, he’s weaker than a newborn deer right now.”

“Oh, you idiot, what have you done to yourself?”

“Yell at him when he’s awake and back with us, we’re not even close to being safe yet.”

“Hang on, Merlin, you hear? Just you hang on, you’ll be alright.”

“We have to go faster, the storm’s still coming.”

“I thought it was over?”

“The worst of it is, but these parts of the mountains are stormy anyway.”

“Why didn’t he go down the other way? He could’ve been safer much quicker.”

“You know why.”

“Damn you, Merlin, you’d better make it through this.”

“He’s still breathing but his heart is weak. He hasn’t got long left at this rate.”

“Let’s hope his magic will keep him stable long enough to get to Gaius. We just have to make it home.”

“You hear that, Merlin? We’re taking you home. You’re safe now, you’re with us. We’ll get you home.”

***

He’s dreaming, he must be.

He’s in a warm, soft field of grass and wildflowers. Trees sway back and forth in the gentle breeze as golden sunlight reaches its long fingers through the branches. A bunny hops up to where he lies on the ground and butts its nose against his cheek. It’s warm, slightly rough. It does it again, and again, rubbing its face against Merlin’s.

Wake up, it says softly, wake up, Merlin.

He doesn’t want to wake up. This field is quite nice.

Wake up, the bunny says again, you have to wake up.

The bunny doesn’t sound like how a bunny should sound. It sounds deeper, gruffer, and its nose is starting to feel like leather. He tries to turn his head away, but then there’s another bunny on the other side, keeping him in place.

Wake up. Wake up, Merlin.

He tries to pull away. He’s too weak. The bunnies turn into hands.

“Wake up, Merlin, you can do it.”

Merlin tries to move away one more time and his eyes flutter open.

He’s looking at a crack in the wall. There isn’t a crack in the wall by his bed normally. The red bedcovers are hurting his eyes. His bedcovers aren’t red. Why are his covers red?

“That’s it. Come on, look at me now…”

The bunnies have followed him. How rude. Their hands—wait, bunnies don’t have hands. Not like these hands. Merlin blinks again.

“Is he awake?”

”Just coming around now.” The first bunny leans down and a face starts to swim into view. “Merlin? Can you hear me?”

He can. He’d like to stop. He’d like to go back to sleeping with the nice bunnies in the field. But he’s not allowed to; the hands shake him gently and the face that had been a swimming and blurry mess turns into Leon.

“There you are,” Leon says softly, his hands stroking Merlin’s cheeks, “you gave us all quite the fright.”

Another voice starts to say something and is promptly shushed by a whole lot of voices. What’s a group of bunnies called again?

“Stay with me,” Leon coaxes, “that’s it. Eyes on me.”

“Wha—“ Merlin swallows. “What’s going on?”

“We found you in the snow,” he says with such gravity that it makes Merlin’s head spin, “we thought…we thought we had lost you.”

“Don’t ever do something like that again,” someone—Gwaine, that’s Gwaine—Gwaine says, appearing over Leon’s shoulder, “you scared us all half to death.”

Indeed, as one of Leon’s hands finally relents and lets him turn his head, his eyes widen as he sees all of the knights huddled around the bed with stricken expressions on their faces. Lancelot gives him the smallest of smiles, getting up and coming to sit on the edge of the bed. With the utmost care, he reaches out and takes Merlin’s limp hand in his. The rush of warmth brings a gasp from his lungs and Lancelot squeezes reassuringly.

“You’re safe now,” he promises, “we’ll keep you safe.”

Leon gently coaxes his attention back, tucking some of his hair back from his face. “You need to get your strength back up. The burns on your hands need time to heal too. Let us take care of you for a while, yes? I fear we’ve been far too remiss in that regard for too long.”

Merlin is…confused. Not because he thought the knights were bunnies, no, he’s awake enough to realize that was the last of his dream fading away. No, he’s confused because Elyan and Percival are staring at him with open concern, Lancelot has now taken his hand in between both of his, Gwaine is on the other end of the bed radiating protectiveness from every bunched line of muscle, and Leon is still cradling his face like he’s something precious.

“What’s the matter,” Gwaine asks softly when all Merlin does is stare at them for long seconds, “does something hurt? Gauis patched you up the best he could, but there might still be something he missed.”

“Why did you save me?”

Several expressions flicker across Gwaine's face before he settles for laughing uneasily. “What do you mean, ‘why did we save you?’ Is the cold still freezing part of your brain?”

”Be nice,” Lancelot chides, rubbing his thumb over the back of Merlin’s hand. “He’s only just woken up.”

“We weren’t going to leave you all on your own,” Gwaine continues, a furrow forming between his brows, “and of course we saved you. Why wouldn’t we save you, what made you think we’d just let you die?”

“Wouldn’t it be easier?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he can tell it’s the wrong thing to have said. Gwaine’s expression darkens almost instantly and Lancelot’s grip tightens on his hand. Before he can stutter out some sort of apology, Leon’s turning his chin again.

“Why do you think it’d be easier,” he asks with the patience of a saint, “can you explain it, please?”

And so he explains. About how he remembers waking up to Arthur’s stern face asking—no, telling him that he had magic and to fix his mistakes. About how the knights follow and watch him constantly. About how he’s not allowed to so much as mark himself, not since Leon told them all to stop him. About how he figured the storm was the easiest on all of them.

About how when he collapsed in the snow, he figured that was the end of it.

“Oh, Merlin,” he hears Lancelot say weakly as he finishes, as Gwaine gets up to pace.

“There’s been a misunderstanding,” Leon says, much to Merlin’s continued confusion, “a terrible misunderstanding.”

”We were worried that we found you with life-threatening wounds, not that you were a sorcerer.”

“We wanted you to be safe, not that we thought you were dangerous.”

“You were hurting yourself, a man we care deeply for, we couldn’t just stand by and let it happen.”

“We were worried, don’t you see?”

Merlin’s head is spinning. Lancelot’s grip on his hand is the only thing that’s keeping him in the room, in the bed, and he grabs onto it as tightly as he can. He must hush the other knights because the voices die down.

“But the burns,” Merlin’s babbling—how long has he been talking?— “those didn’t count, they didn’t count—“

“They did, they do,” Lancelot interrupts with devastating softness, “they do count. I’m so sorry we didn’t realize how much you were struggling, my friend. Or that we were adding to it.”

“We don’t care that you have magic,” Gwaine adds—

“We care a little,” says Elyan.

Percival nods. “It’s really cool.”

“—but we don’t care,” Gwaine emphasizes, “not like we care about you. You’re Merlin, that’s what we care about. That’s you’re alive and safe and all of that.”

“We’ve never hated you,” Leon finishes, “never despised you, any of that. Your happiness and your safety are what matters to us, not your magic.”

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Before he has a chance to truly panic about just how selfish he’s been, how selfish he was going to be, he hears a clattering of footsteps from beyond the door.

Arthur.

“Is he alright,” Arthur demands as the door just about flies off its hinges, “is he alive? Is he okay?”

Lancelot and Leon have just enough time to get out of the way before there’s a red blur and suddenly—

Warmth solid comfort pressure safety comfort warmth Arthur Arthur Arthur—

“Thank the gods,” come the words breathed into his ear, “thank the gods you’re alright.”

Soft golden hair brushes his temple, callused hands and slightly chapped lips brushing the shell of his ear. His hands curl into the back of Arthur’s shirt in disbelief, and another sigh warms the crook of his neck.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, to reassure both of them, “you’re safe now, Merlin, you hear? I’ve got you.”

Merlin’s eyes flutter shut as his senses overwhelm with Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. Distantly, he hears the knights shuffling around to get comfortable, but he can no more open his eyes to see than he could pull himself from under Arthur’s protective embrace.

“A-Arthur?”

”Yes,” he breathes, turning just enough so their noses brush, “yes, it’s me, Merlin.”

“Are—are you going to look after me?”

Arthur smiles, half laughing in disbelief as he brushes Merlin’s hair back from his forehead. “Yes, you idiot. I’m going to look after you now.”

It’s warm inside as the storm finally blows itself out.

[silversiren1101]

For the kiss prompts, "a surprise kiss just because the other couldn’t stop thinking about it" for Mino/Regill please 👀

[Absolute treat to write this one!! My favorite thus far, thank you for the prompt! Also might be upgraded into smut in the future 😏]

Minovae's boots touched down in familiar soil as the teleportation magics dissipated from around her and Danza, whose feathers and fur were standing on end. Her companion squawked and nipped at her pauldron with his beak and, even for an animal, the displeasure in his striking golden eye was apparent.

"I know buddy, I hate teleporting too", she attempted to reassure the griffon, scratching into the feathers under his beak. Teleportation was a distinctly unpleasant experience. "But I just couldn't wait to get home—Not to say you're not the fastest in all of Cheliax!"

She hastily added the last bit, wary of the beast’s pride. It'd taken her some time to get used to the constant Tongues-like magic her innate Protean abilities gave her: being able to be understood by any creature posed certain challenges if she was careless not to speak any deliberate language. With Danza, though, she was always careful, speaking with him as she would another humanoid... albeit one with enough pride to rival a Thrune and a temper short enough to match that of one of their devils.

It didn't spare her the whack across the back of her head from one of his wings.

"Hey!"

But Danza had already started walking in the direction of the lake shimmering beneath the already low setting sun adjacent to the rise they'd appeared on—and of the impressive walls of Citadel Darvhage along its shores.

She shook her head and caught up at a trot, using her momentum to run and jump onto his back. Danza squawked again, feathers along his head and wings bristling, but permitted his rider this, at least. He earned some more scratches along his neck, and that squawking turned into pigeon-like, albeit still annoyed, cooing.

At least he hadn't bitten her again, Minovae internally celebrated. She'd only had Danza in her care for a few months now and the fact he permitted her to ride him at all in such a short time was nothing short of extraordinary. Griffons were... difficult and choosy mounts. The 'courting' process was a long and often expensive ordeal that, more often than not, ended in failure.

'A testament to your character.'

Her husband's words drifted into her thoughts. She pictured him perfectly in the moment he'd said them, leaning against the doorway to the stables, arms crossed but a smirk on his face as she wrapped bandages around not just herself but the griffon's paw, the two of them having gotten into an 'argument' mid-flight that led to him slamming into a tree and falling to the ground.

The memory made her smile warmly right there in the saddle as the two of them approached Darvhage's bridge. 

Her heart was fluttering, no, racing already. She couldn't wait to see him, knowing what a complete surprise it would be. The thought of his face upon her unceremoniously walking in without any warning ahead of time, not having seen each other for an entire month... She hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. The idea had appeared to her a few days ago, upon realizing her duties were almost over and she could return home soon, and so she’d done exactly that: return without sending word of her impending arrival. No one would be expecting her, much less her husband. It’d left her so excited, even, that she’d risked teleporting back, hoping that her and Danza wouldn’t end up sputtering in Lake Sorrow from her generally poor handle on casting spells.

A whole month... it really had been that long, hadn't it?

This had been the longest they’d been apart since their reunion during the Crusade. With him being Lictor now, and the Order of the Vice so freshly reformed, he was so extraordinarily busy here that he'd been unable to join her on her trip. Her work, this time, had taken her to newly liberated Ravounel. The devastated Order of the Torrent hadn’t requested her appearance, and yet hearing of their plight and conflict with the Rack and Barzillai Thrune had called her to action immediately. 

The past month had been spent trying to rebuild the broken trust between the two Orders as Exalictor, and learn more about the events that’d transpired around it. While it was a good trip, it’d also left her exhausted and homesick. The nightmares were more frequent when she was away from their bed and the sense of safety it provided. At least, though she seen silvery, glimmering Kintargo and all its beauty for herself, and had made a wonderful connection from the trip...

Lictor Sabinus had registered in her mind almost immediately upon meeting him as a profoundly good man. A good ally, and friend, to have. Also the Torrent’s armor was fucking phenomenal in its aesthetics. Maybe she could convince her husband to change the Vice knights’ to be something as stylish...

“Halt!” A voice suddenly called down from the guard station at the end of Darvhage’s bridge as Danza stepped onto the old stone. She heard the telltale ratcheting and slotting of crossbows lining up with the arrow slits in the stone, and began to smile. A month was enough to make her akin to a stranger about here? “This is the citadel of the Order of the Vice! State your name and purpose or you will be fired upon!”

But then another barked over the other. Something like a ‘That’s Exalictor Arangeir put down your weapon now!’

Minovae huffed, holding back a chuckle. The fact that she hadn’t been recognized was of no small amusement to her. A ganzi with her unique colorations and riding a griffon, casually striding up to Citadel Darvhage? Who else could she have been?

“It’s quite alright!”, She instead called out, feeling a little bad for the source of the first voice. “I can’t fault such diligence from a fellow knight, after all.” 

After a few moments, the door of the guard post opened and a trio of knights strode forth to meet with her. Or, more accurately, one knight and a duo of nervous-looking armigers. The knight, a dwarf, stood proudly in her full set of Hellknight plate and gave her a firm salute, while the armigers practically leapt to follow upon being corrected as to who this mysterious stranger was.

Minovae merely smiled warmly, enough so to expose one of her fangs at the corner of her mouth. She didn’t recognize these two armigers... of course, in the month she had been away, there had been plenty of time for new recruits to enlist in the Vice’s ranks and not have seen her in the flesh. As for the other...

“Ah, Vastr! I thought I recognized that voice!” She leapt down from Danza’s saddle—who himself seemed quite annoyed they had been stopped and just about to bite one of the armigers who leaned too close in their curiosity of the beast—to clasp the dwarf in a firm hand shake. 

“It is good to see you, My Lady. Forgive me for not apprising these two idiots of your appearance sooner. I didn’t expect your arrival.”

Minovae snorted at the term of respect. “’My Lady’? Have I truly been gone for so long? Please, you know my name and I encourage you to use it freely.”

Vastr nodded, and corrected appropriately. “Of course, Minovae, my apologies.”

The eyes of the armigers went wide at the casual address. Surely they must have at least heard of her reputation as relatively friendly and approachable? Or were their heads filled with assumptions based merely on her titles of Exalictor, Knight Commander of the Fifth Crusade, The Inevitable Paradox, and, most dire of all, The Lictor’s Wife. Knowing their Lictor, what kind of woman could possibly have won his heart, after all.

She reminded herself not to be away for so long again.

“Would you like me to send word ahead to the main keep?”, Vastr asked.

“No need. I’d hoped to surprise my dear husband, so I’d ask you not to spoil it now.”

Vastr paled a little bit, and that caught her attention immediately.

“Is something wrong?”

Vastr shook her head and inhaled deeply. “Lictor Derenge will no doubt be most pleased to see you’ve returned.”

Minovae frowned, suspicious. Even the armigers looked more spooked. She had an idea at least... but the Vice Knights would never speak candidly about it, of course. The few Sendings she and him had shared over her trip had been even more terse and almost surly the longer she’d been away. Had he been taking it out upon the knights? It would had to have been inadvertently so, letting his increasing longing and loneliness leach into his mood. He would never do such a thing on purpose.

“I see...”, her smile picked back up as she quickly leapt back into Danza’s saddle, making the griffon hiss and start to trot forward, not waiting for the order. “At ease, boys!”

The scene at the main gate was much the same, save for Danza impatiently leaping up and over the wall and gatehouse rather than wait for them to open and let them in. That was a bit of a relief though - the noise of the gate might have alerted her husband to her arrival and ruined the surprise.

A good number of knights she recognized saluted accordingly, greeting her and welcoming her back, asking if she needed anything. A good number of armigers she didn’t recognize, meanwhile, looked at her curiously. She couldn’t fault them: she was keenly aware of what a spectacle she was—a ganzi not even five-feet-tall astride a hissing griffon fighting for space, with oddly pale scales and bright teal feathers—alongside her titles and reputation. All she could do was smile and nod at them warmly, make them feel seen by the woman she actually was as opposed to the mythic figure they’d constructed in their minds.

None, at least, lingered to bother her long. They were Hellknights after all. Greeting her, the Exalictor, and, perhaps more importantly, The Lady of the Keep, was a courtesy they felt compelled to uphold. While most arrivals got curt nods of acknowledgment only, the fact she was greeted with words and possible inquiries was notable in and of itself.

Strange and palpable, though, was the sense of overall relief she could read in the language and mannerisms of the knights about her. They were relived she was back... and that bode ill for her husband’s disposition.

She sent Danza off on his own, trusting the irritable beast to return to his nest in the stables and remove his gear without her to do it for him. The longer she lingered, the more her surprise was liable to be spoiled, and so she practically jogged into the main keep proper shortly after touching down in the courtyard. More nods and greetings followed her as she trotted past other members of the Vice throughout the keep, making a beeline to her husband’s personal office. 

Hopefully, he would be there already. If not, then he’d have a bit of a surprise waiting for him.

It was only when she rounded a corner coming up the main flight that she halted, a rather familiar face among a group of knights coming down the hall.

Master of Blades Yaker Ankelle looked up from where he had been discussing something with another knight, who she recognized as Maralictor Jorvel, on the move. A bright and elated smile appeared on the young man’s face.

“Mino! You’ve returned!” He held his arm out and Minovae didn’t hesitate taking it, her own smile radiant. He clapped her on the forearm and, of course, asked her how her trip was and welcomed her back home, more than just the courtesy of the other knights but as a genuine brother-in-arms and dear friend. 

“It was overly long, and not just for me, if my suspicions are correct.” She smiled knowingly as Yaker nodded and coughed pointedly.

“I would warn you before knocking on his door, but you are probably the only person here that doesn’t need it.”

She sighed and shook her head, half in exasperation and half in amusement at the situation—that he of all people would become such an irritable grouch at her prolonged absence. Knowing him, he probably wasn’t he consciously aware of it; or, if he was, was even more irritable because of it. Not being fully in control of his sense of self, emotionally and physical, was one of the greatest compromises he’d made giving in to love and a life with her, after all.

“That bad, huh.”

Jorvel nodded and spoke up. “He’s taken to burying himself in work in his office these past weeks. It’s when he runs out of things to distract him...”

To which Yaker merely hummed in assent. “Like being back in the Worldwound before you appeared. Not so bad as then, but, still, nostalgic.”

‘Oh, dear.’ Disappointed in her husband as she was, though, a piece of her selfishly relished this news. That he had been missing her so dearly...

“I guess someone needs to go deal with the devil, then”, she grinned and indicated her intent to continue on to the two, only for Yaker to catch her by the shoulder and lean in close.

“I’ll ensure his schedule is cleared. No one will be bothering you,” he whispered.

Minovae patted his hand in gratitude as she raised her brows at him, a different kind of knowing in her expression. He pulled away with a smirk of his own, welcomed her back once again, and then she was trotting down the halls once more. 

By the time she came to his office door, so familiar in those vast halls of the Citadel Darvhage, her heart was thudding so heavy in her chest she could barely breathe evenly. How did she want to do this? What would catch him most off guard?

‘...before knocking on his door...’ It was as good a surprise as any, she supposed.

She took a deep, steadying breath, trying to swallow down the excitement in her throat, wanting her voice as casual and even as possible for this.

And then, without further ceremony, she wordless rapped the backplate of her glove against the wood of the door.

Hardly a second passed before a downright venomous version of her dear husband’s voice responded to the interruption. “You better have a good reason for this unscheduled disturbance.”

She sucked at her lips, trying desperately to swallow down her excited giggling. It delayed her own answer, and she heard the scrape of his chair as he must’ve stood up.

“Answer. Unless you are looking for lashes for wasting my time.”

It took another deep breath to summon enough discipline to keep her voice steady.

“Oh? I can leave if you like,” she called out through the door, trying to sound as casual she possibly could over her giddiness.

A whole beat of silence passed. 

And then she heard the telltale sign of clinking, rustling armor of someone hurriedly approaching the other side of the door.

It opened with all the force of someone yanking it, and before her, finally, stood her dearest husband. 

Lictor Regill Derenge stood completely rigid, one hand still on the doorknob and the other braced against the door’s frame. The expression on his face was complete incredulous disbelief, the piercing yellow eyes she adored looking up into hers as if a ghost had appeared before him. His pale purple hair was even a bit more bristly than usual, which told her, along with the obvious dark pits beneath his eyes, that he was tired, and that certainly did a number on her heart.

But the look on his face. She’d be remembering this for a long time to come. Had she ever seen him look this genuinely surprised? He looked at her with more shock and reverence than when a literal goddess appeared before them!

“...about those lashes...”, she started to joke, voice breaking into poorly contained laughter, “...might I choose a different punishme—!”

The door slammed behind her as he quite literally kicked it closed, pulling her into the office with both hands grasping her cloak. She didn’t even have time to gasp before he yanked her down to his height and pushed onto her a bruising kiss. Her pack slid off her shoulder and hit the floor with a thump.

Hells, did she want to tease him at that moment. No, ‘welcome back!’ or “I missed you!’ or “was your trip enjoyable?’, but sheer emotional desperation that could only manifest itself physically. Words weren’t sufficient in this matter.

That was Regill though. Mr ‘Speak with your actions’ in the flesh.

She could only smile into the kiss as he growled, grabbing at her like he was checking to see if she real; but, in truth, she was keenly aware of just how miserable she’d been as her entire body sang at this reunion: seeing his handsome face, the taste of his kiss and that slight iron tang as he cared so little about the danger of her fangs, his desperate touch already beginning to reach for her hips, the smell of too much coffee on his breath and his natural scent she adored, his sounds as he groaned and growled, firmly pushing her backward onto his desk.

It was like a piece of her had been torn out, the wound aching and seeping blood the past month. Now that it’d been returned and she was whole, she could truly feel how pained she had been from it all.

The same was much for him, she imagined.

“Dismiss your armor,” Regill breathed as he spread her knees and planted his hands upon the desk on either side of her hips.

“I smell like griffon, dear!” She laughed a bit incredulously. “I haven’t had time to get cle—”

“Does it look like I care? Now shut up.” He snarled at her. A snap of his fingers then dismissed his own armor into extradimensional space—one of the few spells he actually used from being connected to her—leaving him in his typical day clothes. 

A massive grin spread across her face. She shook her head, so filled with love and joy and amusement at this display of downright neediness from him. 

Without a word, her armor vanished, and she let her dear husband welcome her back home in the way he best knew how... and the way they both sorely needed.

[inhuman-obey-me]

✨2700+ Follower Celebration✨

So ... this was supposed to be for when we hit 2500, but then somehow even more of you showed up before we were ready. Seriously, where are you all coming from--especially with how not-all-that-active we've been?!

Regardless, thank you all so SO much!! We're forever grateful that you all enjoy our stuff (when we do post) and have stuck around after all this time. 💕 We hope to get back to regular activity very very soon, and to help us with that ...

... We're doing another celebration prompt list, with more prompts! We'll also be taking more of them, and though we probably won’t be able to get to every submission we receive, we’re really excited about them! Not too sure on our cut-off yet -- but we will let you all know when we're stopping requests. 

Please read the rules carefully before sending an ask!

Thank you all again!!

RULES

Choose one (1) prompt.

Choose one (1) character (excluding Luke)

Do you want MC involved? ( Yes | No | Don’t Care )

These will be SHORT ficlets/drabbles, so we can quickly get them out.

And of course, our general ask rules apply.

PROMPTS

😴 - Don't you worry about your bad dreams, 'cause I'm not in them 🔪 - Let the knife leave its mark 🩺 - We'll be here when their heart stops beating 🌚 - I want to release the darkest side of me 🖤 - You fell in love with the evil that you bare 🩸 - I'll let the blood tell the truth tonight 👀 - I saw a little thing I didn't like you tried to hide 👤 - It's hard enough being alone with myself ⏳ - You are the moment I belong to 🏃 - You look better when you're running away 🎲 - It's not vengeance; it's just a game 💎 - The more the diamond glitters, the more it can deceive 🦴 - We'll take your blood and use your bones 👁️ - There's an evil in lurking in the dark, ever shifting 🌌 - I look at you and I see the void 🛁 - It's a beautiful night for a bloodbath 🤯 - I can feel it taking over my mind 😋 - They feed on your fear to survive 🐾 - What strange claws are these scratching at me 🎃 - Where reality and superstition collide 🧠 - I've got blood on my mind 😈 - All we've got are cruel intentions 🍴 - Can't fight these cravings in the night 🥀 - I'd rather die than keep you alive 👻 - Embrace the shadow following behind

[twistsandtwizzles]

First Kiss #3: Turning Onto You

Author's Note: This is the last story I got through before real life so rudely burst my fic-writing bubble. I'm taking a little hiatus from writing fic but will still be around to talk all things skating. (And also I do still have the other prompts and hope to get to them someday!) Thanks for reading and sending in prompts for the challenge!

Prompt: Mariah catches some feelings and makes the first move on a surprised Nathan

She doesn’t tell Nathan about Romain until it’s all over, her ring finger bare and dark circles under her eyes. She rehearsed it on the plane ride back from France, wanting to sound steady and fair, to allow space for Nathan and Romain’s friendship - even if it’s more than her ex deserves at the moment.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Nathan asks. 

She shrugs. “He’s your friend, you know? I didn’t want to put you in a weird place.”

“Okay, but . . . you’re my friend. It wouldn’t have been weird - I would have been here. You know that, right?”

She does, but it is nice to hear him say it anyway.

A few weeks later, Mariah has to almost physically restrain him from helping her move. It’s sweet, she supposes, but also exasperating.  

“I would never be able to show myself at a rink again if Nathan Chen pulled a muscle trying to lift my couch,” she tells him. “I’m hiring movers, we’ve got it handled.”

Of course, he shows up anyway, with McDonalds for her and pizza for the movers. She thanks him and then shuts herself in the bathroom and cries, touched by his thoughtfulness and infinitely grateful not to have to go through the day alone.

That night, standing in her new living room surrounded by boxes, she tells him that she hadn’t realized just how much she needed this fresh start, a home where she won’t picture Romain at every turn. He slings an arm around her shoulder and says that he thinks the place feels like her.

Nathan doesn’t push her to go back to the rink, but the delighted smile he gives her when she walks back in after nearly a month immediately calms her nerves. He sticks close to her that day - she’s guessing he wasn’t intending to spend the session just working on spins and footwork - and she’s grateful for his calm presence as she gets her feet back under her.

There had been a small part of her worried that their friendship wouldn’t be able to bridge the gap that Romain had left, despite Nathan’s assurances; she had wondered if Romain had been right when he joked that he was the glue that held them all together. She’s relieved to find that this, at least, is one thing she did not need to worry about. That she and Nathan are the same as they have always been.

Except, if she’s being honest, that is not exactly true.

She first realizes it as they are settling in for one of their semi-regular movie nights. He is absently scratching Nala’s head with one hand and clicking through the titles on the screen with the other, one dark curl falling across his forehead, brow furrowed in concentration. 

She is unprepared for the warmth that suddenly fills her chest as she watches him.

He senses her staring, looks over at her. “What?”

She blinks, shakes her head. “Nothing. Find the movie already, gosh.”

“You’re just going to fall asleep anyway,” he mutters. “Not sure what the rush is.”

She tosses a throw pillow at him, and he laughs, and her traitorous stomach explodes in butterflies. She sinks back into her corner of the couch. 

Well, shit.

—

For a while, she tells herself that she is imagining things. That she and Nathan are friends, have always been just friends, and she is getting contentment confused with something else. She certainly does not have a crush on Nathan, of all people. 

And her heart doesn’t occasionally skip a beat when he shoots her a half-smile after Raf says something that they’ll make fun of him for later, and she never finds herself lingering in their goodbye hugs just a bit longer than she used to. Never fights the urge to call him just to hear his voice.

Really.

They are chatting on the bench as he changes out of his skates. Nathan’s frustrated with his lutz, annoyed with Raf, and she’s relieved that she’s able to coax a laugh out of him before he takes off for the day. She steps onto the ice, still smiling a little, and finds Adam watching her.

“Oh my god,” he says. “Well, this is an exciting twist.”

“What?” She busies herself with some arm circles, already feeling the color creeping into her cheeks.

Adam leans forward and whispers conspiratorially, “You and Nathan. You like him.”

“Stop,” she says, trying to keep her voice even. “I do not.” 

“Oh my god,” he says again. “You’re blushing! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. When did this start? This is great for you. I’ve told you a hundred times, you’ve gotta get under someone to get over someone.”

She smacks him on the shoulder. “No one is getting under anyone, because nothing is going on.”

“Well why not? The poor guy’s been in love with you since he was a teenager. Throw him a bone.”

“He has not,” Mariah says reflexively. “Don’t be silly.”

Adam is suddenly serious. “Mariah. You have to know that Nathan is crazy about you, right? If there’s something there, why don’t you say something?”

She tilts her head back and stares at the rink ceiling for a moment. “Okay,” she sighs. “Let’s say I have been having some . . . feelings.” 

Adam nods. “Which I have said, because it’s true.”

“If - that’s if - it is true, there’s too much on the line to do anything about it. I need to have a decent Grand Prix to have a shot at the Olympics, and I already got a late start to training this year because of my messed up personal life. And you know what this season means for Nathan. If I said or did something and screwed things up, for either of us, I’d never forgive myself.”

“So your plan is what, exactly?”

“Basically just ignore it until it goes away?” 

Adam lets out a long suffering sigh. “And force me to watch you two idiots flirt and pine everyday for months? This is a terrible plan.”

“Asking you to coach me was a terrible plan,” she grumbles.

He laughs. “Girl, I am doing you a favor and you know it. Now let’s get to work.”

She rolls her eyes and skates toward center ice. Adam shouts after her, “For the record, I actually think it would help! You’re both wound so tight you’re going to pop!”

She holds up her middle finger as she waits for her music to start.

—-

Adam is right, though she’ll never tell him that. Ignoring her feelings is not a viable strategy. So more out of self preservation than anything else, she starts to steer clear of situations where it is just the two of them. And since Nathan is juggling about a hundred Olympic promo shoots and interviews with his training anyway, she’s fairly certain that he hasn’t even noticed.

She’s on her way out of the rink when she hears him call her name. His voice echoes a bit in the empty hallway. “Mariah, hang on a minute.”

He’s jogging to catch up with her, still in his skates and guards. She turns, waits for him to reach her. “What’s up?”

“Um.” He seems suddenly uncertain. “You’ve just . . . rushed out the last few days, so I wanted to check in. Are things okay?”

“Oh.” She adjusts the bag on her shoulder, doesn’t meet his eyes. “I’m fine. I just have -“

“Plans,” he finishes for her. “Yeah.” He shifts his weight a bit uneasily, adds, “It feels like it’s been awhile since we hung out.”

“I know,” she says. As always, he’s more observant than she gives him credit for. She reaches up and gives him a soft squeeze on the shoulder. “Movie night soon, okay?”

He nods, and she turns to leave. 

”Do you have a date?” he asks suddenly.

She laughs, surprised. “What? No.”

He looks sheepish. “You’ve just had lots of plans lately and you haven’t really said what they were, and I thought maybe - nevermind.”

Something stirs in her chest, and she can’t stop herself from asking, “What if I did have a date?”

“Then you’d be going on a date, I guess,” he says. “I don’t know. Whatever.” 

“Whatever,” she repeats, suddenly annoyed. “Okay, sure. So if it would just be whatever, why did you even ask?” 

“I don’t know. I wish I hadn’t, now.” He runs a hand through his hair, lets out a frustrated breath. “I should get back to practice.”

But she is unwilling to let this go. “So if I was seeing someone, it wouldn’t bother you at all?”

“No! I mean, I don’t know.”

“Stop saying you don’t know!” The volume at which she says those words takes them both aback. She takes a deep breath and looks down at her shoes. This is ridiculous. She’s acting like a teenager.

“I shouldn’t have asked, I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s not that.” 

“What, then? I feel like I’m missing something, here, Mariah, and it sucks. You’ve been avoiding me, and I miss you, and -”

She kisses him. 

It’s not perfect. She’s failed to correctly factor in the extra height that his skates give him, so her angle is a bit off. And she still has her stupid bag on her shoulder, which swings into his side as she leans into him. But it takes him just a moment to recover from his surprise, his hands circling her waist and lifting her the fraction of an inch needed for him to deepen the kiss, and then she can’t remember why she was fighting so hard to not let this happen.

He pulls away first, looking a bit dazed. For a moment they are both speechless.

“So here’s the thing,” she says. “I have wanted to do that for weeks.”

His lips quirk upward. “So you don’t want to plead temporary insanity and run away?”

She shakes her head. “But I know the timing is terrible, so if you would prefer that we just pretended that it never happened, I’d understand.”

He tips her chin up with a finger and presses his lips to hers. The kiss is gentle but sure, and she can feel them crossing a bridge to something new. 

Eventually, they will talk. He will confess the years that he spent dreaming of her one night when he thinks she is already asleep; she will tell him that she loves him as they drive to the rink on an otherwise unremarkable December morning. They will laugh and they will fight and they will skate and they will figure this out, their new normal.

Today, though, he just smiles and says, “I really do have to get back. Raf is going to be so pissed.”

He gives her one more quick kiss and heads back down the hallway. He turns and calls, “Hey, you don’t really have plans tonight, do you?”

“I better have some now!” she yells back, laughing. 

He grins. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

[milligar]

1. “Promise me something. Whatever happens, don’t look back.” from the pinned prompt list?

Hi 👋

Gosh, I haven’t written in a while (unless you count my assignment for study) but when this popped up I immediately had an idea I had to get out.

Thank you so much for sending this ask. It was the perfect distraction I needed to take a little break and write for fun again!

This gets a tiny bit angsty - sorry 🫣- but I really hope you enjoy it!

***

“Promise me something. Whatever happens, don’t look back.”

“But…”

“But nothing. Just focus on the trial. Remember what your lawyer told you to say. Okay?”

“…”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay. We’ll get through this. I promise.”

“…yea.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

****

Mickey had always known he’d end up back here one day. He couldn’t see Ian’s face but he knew exactly the expression that would be on there. Worry and anguish all wrapped up in disappointment.

Last time he’d been in a courtroom, Ian hadn’t come. He’d spent the whole day hoping and praying the door would open and Ian would walk in, sit at the back and just be there. But it never happened.

When the judge had sentenced 15 years his heart withered. 15 years without Ian. 15 years of only being able to see him through glass, if he even visited at all. 15 years of being alone.

It hurt. Hearing that news with absolutely no one he knew in the room. Not even Iggy or Mandy had bothered to turn up. Svetlana has claimed she couldn’t get a sitter and hadn’t wanted to bring Yev to court.

He hadn’t even protested when the officer led him away. What was the point? No one else gave a fuck, why should he?

A month later he had scratched Ian’s name into his skin. The longing was slowly killing him and he would have done anything to get to Ian. And he did, putting all his effort into breaking free and running straight to the south side.

—//—

He hung his head waiting for the judge to arrive. Thoughts of glass and germ ridden black telephones separating him and his husband spun around his head. He wasn’t sure he could do that again.

Suddenly everyone rose as the judge entered. Mickey stood, watching the man who would decide his fate take his seat.

“So what do we have here? Assault. Could the defendant stand, state their name and plea?”

Mickey took a deep breath and held it. Don’t look back, he thought. Just don’t look back.

“I’m Ian Gallagher and I plead not guilty by reason of insanity.”

He let the breath go as he stared at the back of Ian’s head. It has been touch and go whether Ian would go through with the plea. Guilt has been eating up his husband since he’d been admitted to the psyche ward again.

—//—

Mickey had looked everywhere for Ian that day. When he’d found the stashed meds his worst fears had been confirmed. It had been going on for a few weeks, Ian acting out of character and slowly succumbing to the mania. Until that day when it just exploded.

Ian had left the house that morning claiming he was going for a run. Four hours and almost 50 missed calls later, Mickey was in a complete state of panic. So much so he called Lip who’d rallied the Gallagher clan and a search party commenced.

Another four hours passed with no word, not a single whisper of Ian or his whereabouts. Then another four passed. And another. Almost 24 hours had passed when Mickey’s phone rang.

“Is this Mr Milkovich?”

“Who’s asking?”

“I’m Officer Hunt, of Chicago P.D. We picked up your husband, Ian Gallagher, he was arrested for assault but he seems to think demons are after him. He’s been sedated but it’s recommended that he gets checked out at the hospital.”

“He’s bipolar. He’s not been taking his meds….”

Mickey shook his head and tried to focus on the trial. His stomach was in knots and his knee was bouncing as the judge discussed the case with the lawyers and Ian gave his defence.

From what Ian tells him, the guy he’d beat was saying some colourful things about gays. Ian, in his unmediated state, had seen him as a threat, a demon. A few punches later and Ian was being cuffed and dragged into a cop car, while he strained against the officers, shouting of righteousness and doing god's work to rid the earth of evil.

The guy, Max Cromwell, was sitting with his wife at the other side of the courtroom. He was the reason he’d told Ian not to look back. Guilt was already eating him away, he didn’t want Ian to look back, see them and plead guilty.

Ian had been threatening for weeks to plead guilty. “But I beat him up, Mick, I did it. I am guilty.”

“Ian, you were off your meds. Would you have done that if you were taking them?”

“After the shit he said, probably. I probably would have still hit the bastard. I just wouldn’t have thought he was a fucking demon or some shit.”

“Ian, if you plead guilty, with your history, you’ll end up back inside.”

“I know.”

“I don’t… Ian please. Plead insanity.”

“I might still end up inside.”

“But you might not. If you plead insanity there’s a chance…”

“But I am guilty.”

“Ian… please.”

They’d had that same argument over and over almost everyday in the run up to the trial. Mickey had begged and pleaded with him. In the end Ian had agreed.

—//—

The trial was coming to a close. The judge was about to make sentencing.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve been in court due to being off your meds Mr Gallagher”

To his right, Debbie tensed. Lip sat stoic to his left.

“Ian Gallagher, you are sentenced to 30 days in a correctional facility followed by 1 year probation.”

The judge was still speaking but all Mickey could hear was white noise. 30 days. 30 fucking days without Ian. Ian was going to prison. Alone. For 30 fucking days.

Movement caught his eye and he looked up, right into his husband's wide green eyes. Mickey was sure his heart wasn’t beating. His chest felt empty. Hollow. Like everything had been ripped out of there.

“I’ll be okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Ian was led away. Part of Mickey was led away with him.

****

Mickey blinked rapidly but tears continued to well and roll down his cheeks, straight into Ian’s t-shirt.

“You okay?” The words were uttered against his neck but there was no way he was letting go.

“Yes,” he hiccuped. “That was the longest month of my life.”

“Mine too.” He felt Ian inhale, his nose buried in the crook of Mickey’s neck. “Fuck I missed you.”

“Me too.”

They continued to hold on to one another. Mickey wasn’t sure he would ever let go.

“For fuck sake, other people missed him too.” He knew he shouldn’t have brought Debbie. He was going to come alone to collect Ian but she begged and he was a softie.

He pulled away and scowled as Debbie wrapped Ian in a hug.

“So was everything okay since my last visit? No one tried anything?”

“No, it was fine. Word got out that I was married to a Milkovich. Scared a few people off. Hudson even let me shove in the cafeteria line in front of him a few times.”

Mickey let out a sigh of relief. He just wanted to get his husband home where he belonged. The Gallaghers had tried to plan a party but he’d told them to fuck off. They could have one tomorrow. Today he was taking his husband home and worshipping him over and over again.

[achitka]

Burrita

Prompt for day 7 of #encantober

7. Donkeys

Burrita

Mirabel had perched herself among the branches of the great oak that was growing in the middle of the plaza as she watched Luisa moving about the town. School had let out early and she didn’t want to go home yet. Camilo had gone off into the woods with his friends, he said, to work on a ‘school project’. More likely he was planning another of his elaborate pranks and didn’t want her there as a potential witness. Her 13th birthday was coming up and since Tía Pepa was home with Antonio she didn’t need to hurry home to watch him. She actually had exams to study for but wasn’t feeling overly motivated to do that either.

She kinda needed to talk to her mom about something, but as she looked through the leaves she saw her mother’s stall, still had a full line of people. There was probably little chance she’d be able to talk her mom into a taking a break. Isabela was gliding through town making things as beautiful as her but Mira couldn’t talk to her either. Or rather Isa would just ignore her so there was no point. Delores was also out of the question since, like Isa, she didn’t pay much attention to her or even talk to her much. Luisa was still moving through the town, running this way and that helping people with her Gift.

There was a growl below her and Mirabel looked down to see Burrita staring up at her. She was Señor Ortiz’s cart donkey but she realized she’d not seen her pulling her cart recently. The donkey snorted then and Mira wondered why the donkey was focusing on her. Burrita was rubbing her hindquarter against the tree. Probably has an itch she can’t scratch, she thought, but she also was loathe to leave her perch. If Abuela saw her she’d likely send her home. Something else she did not want to do just then. Still Mirabel could not just stay hiding in this tree if the donkey needed her. Burrita looked up at her and gave a soft whuffle, as if to reassure her that no one of note was around.

“Fine,” Mirabel said and climbed carefully out of the tree. The donkey made space for her to jump down and after landing Mirabel said, “Thanks, Burrita.”

The donkey turned and head butted her and Mira noted for the first time how round the donkey’s midsection was. “Oh my gosh, Burrita, I didn’t know you were pregnant!”

Somewhere in the distance she heard, “Luisa! The donkeys!” Given the way Luisa usually collected the donkeys, no wonder Burrita had run off.

“What are you doing out of your pen?”

The donkey just gave her a look that told her she was asking a stupid question and the donkey laid down on the spot. Mira wasn’t sure if that was the best thing for her, but then she wasn’t a donkey. Luisa came by then carrying several other donkeys. As she approached Mirabel came and stood in front of Burrita.

“Wait! Luisa, I think she’s having her baby right now,” Mirabel said.  

Her sister had always had a keen interest in the animals of the Encanto. She’d helped with foaling before so Mira hoped she’d be able to help Burrita now. Luisa set down the donkeys she was carrying and said, “Really most donkeys will only foal at night. Let’s have a look then,” she said and moved to the rear of the animal and Burrita snorted at her and Luisa said, “Mira, do me a favor and sit near her head. I don’t want her to think I’m going to try and move her.”

“Okay,” Mirabel said and sat near the mare’s head and gently scratched behind her ears. Luisa took up a position near the tail and seemed to be waiting.

After twenty minutes Luisa said, “You were right Mira. Feet…nose are out,” and she reached over and pulled something sticky looking from the foal. “Good, good. Not a breach. Come on Burrita you’re almost there.”

Mirabel, while interested to find out what was happening at the other end of the donkey, decided it would be better if she stayed put. By now a small crowd had formed but they were mostly being held back by the other donkeys. Only a few people made it through including Osvaldo who smiled at Mirabel and thanked her. Then to Burrita he said, “That’s a good girl, Burrita. Almost there,” as he said this, he placed a hand on her muzzle. The donkey let out a series of grunts and Luisa looked up and said happily, “It’s a boy!” But her excitement turned to concern and she said, “She’s bleeding too much, Mira go and get Mamá, quick!”

Mirabel wasn’t going to ask questions and was up and scrambled under the donkey nearest her into the crowd. She pushed through it to get to her mother’s stall on the other side of the plaza. She emerged right in front of her Abuela who stopped her and asked her where she was going. Mirabel was torn between wanting to hold still as her Abuela told her she should do when being spoken to, and her need to get her mother.

“Mira!” Luisa shouted and Mirabel used that distraction to take off. She skidded to a halt in front of her mother, who saw her coming and said, “What’s happening, Corazón?”

“Luisa is helping with a foal and she said the mama is bleeding too much and she wants you to come.”

Her mother immediately grabbed a small basket of blueberries and a cup of water and together they returned to the crowd. Mirabel noted her Abuela had cleared a path for them. So, it was a shock when her Abuela caught her arm and stopped her at the edge of the crowd and said, “You’ve done enough Mirabel. It would be best if you left this to your sister and Mamá, okay?” Mira watched as the crowd closed again and she bit her lip as she nodded and turned away. A cheer went up, but she did not turn back to look. She’d been dismissed so there was nothing else to do but go home. Still, she would have liked to have met the little guy. She found out later that Osvaldo had named the baby Bruno because the foal had an hourglass shaped spot on his left shoulder. This made Mirabel wonder all over again where her Tío was. Her only real memory of him was that he was scruffy and smelled like a tree. It wasn't much, but she knew it was a good memory so clung to it.

You can read the rest of my offerings here:

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I wanted to send an ask because I feel alone right now. I know your requests are closed, so I am not asking for anything. I just…found your blog and I wanna say I admire what you do.

I’ve been in a real bad spot lately, depressed for the past 3 years straight it seems… I’m starting to get really tired, but I keep going. I found myself getting back into FNAF again after years, even writing a couple indulgent self insert fanfics as I tend to do. They, and anything else I do in my life really never feel good enough for me to let myself love who I am. Your work on this blog scratched a sort of itch I had for content that I could use to pretend someone was happy with me…wanted me around… Stuff to distract me from all those racing thoughts. For that, I want to sincerely thank you.

If you’d like, I would trust you enough to possibly give you the information to read these fics, but it’s up to you. I’m saying this mainly because I just reentered the fandom, so not many of my followers are even interested in FNAF or able to give me much ideas on what they would want out of the fanfics. As a result, I looked at blogs like yours for ideas on what to do, even sending asks in publicly just to get notified of the answers to see how other writers tackle these prompts.

You’re one of the best I’ve found and your writing skills are phenomenal. I wanted to send you some encouragement and tell you how you helped me out a bit. Thank you again.

Aww, Anon thank you so much for this!!! I'd love to read those fics!

I'm glad my content helped you when you were in a dark place and I hope it continues to help. Take care of yourself, okay? I'll be making fics and art for a long, long time 💖💖💖💖

[forever-rogue]

hi! if you’re accepting requests from prompt list #2, does angst to fluff count lol. 5 from angst, 49 from fluff lists! with reader thinking din loves someone else 🥺 i like mando x omera but.. reader who perhaps doesnt have the skills omera has and sees how din looks at her… THE ANGST 😌🤌

AN | Me, writing some Din? It’s been a hot minute, but here we are. I miss him 🥺

Warnings | None

Pairing | Din x Fem!Reader

Masterlist | Din, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A small sigh, a wistful little thing, escaped your lips as you studied the gently lapping water of the lake. It was calm here, a peaceful, tranquil place that served as a welcome refuge after all that you'd been through in the last few years. Sometimes it seemed almost too good to be true. The distant sounds of laughter met your ears as children ran around and played, carefree as could be. Sometimes you wished you were that young again; innocent to life’s darker sides. Unfortunately that wasn’t a possibility, but for now you’d take the peace and stillness you could get.

Pulling off your boots and socks, you quickly tossed them to the side. The water was warm as you relaxed and leaned back, closing your eyes and soaking up the warmth of the summer sun. It wasn’t until you heard the familiar voice that your eyes slowly snapped back opened. Your heart constricted slightly as you spotted Din nearby speaking to Omera. He seemed so happy, in a much better mood than you’d seen in a long time. It was all her, and you remained invisible. Which, when it came to most things wasn’t too bad, but sometimes you wished he would see you.

“Is somebody jealous?” you hadn’t even heard the bounty hunter walk over; you supposed that’s one of the many reasons he was the best in the galaxy. Boba offered a small grimace before sitting down next to you. You shrugged him off staring back into the water. You were not about to get into anything with Boba; that man was insufferable and usually right.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you brushed him off, trying desperately not to look back at Din. Instead, you focused on the water and watched the tiny fish whiz through the water; a few of them brushed by your feet, sending a ticklish shiver up your spine, “I’m just...enjoying the calm afternoon sun and soaking up as much peace before we inevitably leave again.”

“That’s how this all works,” Boba sighed as you nodded in agreement, “you knew that from the day you became my apprentice.”

“I know,” you whispered, “but I hoped at one point I could...walk away and have a normal life. Like this.”

“Normal is all relative,” he had a point as you huffed lightly and stood up, brushing off your pants and reaching for your boots, “but if this is what you want, what you truly want, you know you’re welcome to leave whenever. I would not hold you back from the life you wanted.”

“I know, Boba,” you put your hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, “the problem is that I don’t really know what I want...I think I know but...it’s more than that.”

“Of course,” he agreed, casting a quick glance at the object of your affections before turning back to you, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“Either way, it will work out, just as it always does,” you swallowed the lump that had welled up in your throat, “Boba, why are you doing this?”

“I just want to make sure you’re happy - that you know that you have choices in what you’re doing,” he said like it was no big deal, but to you it meant so much. This hardened, sometimes gruff man really did have a heart of gold underneath it all, “should you want to part ways, I would understand. Should you want to stay, I’d be more than happy to have you with me. I don’t know what the future holds for myself, Fennec, or Djarin, but you know it will not always be easy. But sometimes you have to decide what’s most important.”

“Yes,” you answered softly, “thank you, Boba.”

He remained silent as you laced up your boots before padding away, back towards the village. You knew you had a lot to think about and if you wanted things to change at all, you’d have to figure out something. You cast a glance over your shoulder and you were almost positive that you’d spotted Din looking in your direction. But it was all a trick of the mind; it had to be. Why would he spare you more than a passing thought anyways?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was late by the time he found you; much later than any reasonable person should have been outside, but you couldn’t sleep. There was too much on your mind to silence, and if you managed to, it was short-lived and another thought came to replace the previous one. Eventually you’d given up and wandered out of the small hut home that had been acting as your own home for the last couple of months. You knew the area was safe and wanted to enjoy the temperate night air before it turned to a crisp fall breeze, or worse - you’d be gone.

Small bugs chirped happily along with the soft songs of nightbirds as you walked around the sleeping village; you weren’t scared here, you felt safe and at home. But as you rounded a corner, a gloved hand reached out and grabbed your wrist. A small yelp of surprise left your lips as you pulled into a wall of cool metal - beskar.

“Shhh,” Din placed a finger to his lips as you relaxed when you realized it was him, “you’ll wake everyone up. It’s just me.”

“Dank Farrik!” you hissed at him, “how was I supposed to know that? You could have been a murderer!”

“Well….you should be in bed sleeping.”

“So should you!” your arms crossed over your chest as you stared him down, and eventually he huffed in defeat, realizing you were right. He couldn’t sleep either, plagued by the choices he knew that he had to make sooner rather than later. He hadn’t expected you to be out as well, “what are you doing anyway?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck nervously, a flash of...something in his dark eyes, “I thought that some fresh air would clear my head.”

“Same here,” you admitted reluctantly, leaving the two of you in an awkward silence. You wished you had enough bravery (or perhaps even stupidity) in your body to just say something to him then and there. At least it would be out of the way; but you weren’t feeling anything but nervous butterflies fluttering in your tummy, “I...umm...I guess I’ll get back. Try and sleep.”

“Hey-” he reached for your arm gently before you could get too far away. You turned around and raised an eyebrow as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, “d-did I do something wrong?”

“What? What are you talking about?” the question caught you off guard, but judging by the look on his face, you could sense that this was something he had been thinking for some time.

“You’ve been different lately...it almost feels like you’re avoiding me.”

“Oh DIn, you’re being ridiculous,” and yet the accusation was very true.

“You’re fine around Boba, Fennec...everyone else. But every time I’m around it feels like you can’t wait to get away,” you should have known that he would have noticed sooner or later. The man was more observant than you’d cared to admit, “if I did something, please tell me.”

“You can’t be serious, Djarin. There’s nothing wrong…”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t been doing anything. You’ve got too much free time and your mind is running wild.”

“Tell me it’s not true then.”

“Din-”

“Tell me.”

“The problem is that you’re in love with someone else,” the words were out of your mouth before you even contemplated them. You were mortified and in some ways you were relieved. At least it was all out in the open now and you were able to let the chips land where they may.

“Oh,” was his only response as his head tilted to the side and he looked at you in confusion, “what?”

“I...kriff,” you sighed, “I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry - forget I said anything.”

“Who am I in love with?”

“What do you mean?” tears welled up in your eyes at his response; almost like a cruel joke, “you know, everyone knows! Omera; and why wouldn’t you be? She’s wonderful - kind, smart, beautiful … everything. Part of me wants to dislike her, but I can’t because she’s such a good person but it kills me a little bit to know that you love her and you’ll never even think twice about me. I know that’s super selfish but it’s the way I feel; and judging from how this is going I think I’m making the right decision by leaving. By myself.”

Din said nothing as a few tears rolled down your cheeks. You laughed bitterly at yourself before realizing that this might have been the best decision after all. You couldn’t stay after this.

It wasn’t long before Din came to his senses and ran after you, calling your name and catching up with a few easy strides. You came to a reluctant stop as you sniffled and waited for him to say something, despite the fact that you weren’t sure you wanted to hear whatever he had to say.

“I-I-I’m not in love with Omera,” he insisted as it became your turn to look at him in bewilderment, “I’m in love with you.”

“What?”

“I’ve been talking to her about you,” he confessed, “about how to do...this sort of thing. But then you started avoiding me and I wondered if maybe I’d read the signs wrong and you didn’t like me at all. At least not in that way.”

“I don’t….what?” you heard his words but weren’t able to fully comprehend them. This had to be some sort of weird fever dream. Din sighed - his trademark sigh - before ripping off his gloves and gently putting his hands on the sides of your face. He was hesitant at first, to see if you would stop him. But you didn’t...instead you relished in his touch, the feel of his bare skin on yours sending electric shivers throughout your whole body.

After a few moments of quietly studying your features, he leaned in and slowly pressed his lips against yours. It wasn’t a proper kiss by any means, hardly more than a ghost of one, but it felt...strangely wonderful. You looked at him in disbelief as he pulled back; was this really the same man that you’d met all that time ago that wouldn’t even tell anyone his name or let them see his face?

“Oh.”

“Can we go inside?” he whispered softly, “can we talk?”

“Yeah,” you agreed gently. He reached for your hand but before he could take it in his, you stopped him and pressed another sweet, barely there kiss to his lips. A tinge of pink colored his cheeks as you beamed at him, “now we can go.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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[sukirichi]

happy little accidents

— Life is a series of unfortunate events, but sometimes, there are happy little accidents.

REQUEST. (accidental pregnancy, fuck buddies au) + childhood friends to lovers + baby moments with father! megumi

CONTENT/WARNINGS. slight smut, slight exhibitionism (I think? there’s a CCTV lmao) just daddy megumi uwu

NOTES. hi anon, thank you for requesting and joining the event! I have to admit...I don’t really know how to write this and I just had to ask my mother about her experiences in pregnancy LMAO. I apologize in advance if this sucks, I’m pretty good at fluff but domestic and cute stuff with children isn’t my expertise asggkhl I’m awkward around babies and kids so anyways, I hope you like it! OH AND ALSO I HAVE A CAMEO LMAO

Megumi’s hands runs up under your shirt, bringing about a shiver forward when his cold fingers come into with your warm skin. You feel him smile onto the kiss, his grip nothing but teasing before he brushes the underside of your breast, prompting you to grip closer to his hoodie. You and him were childhood friends; having always liked one another until playing house was no longer a game a but dream, but his family was too strict and controlling – they’ve made it clear long ago this relationship could never and would never happen.

His Uncle Naoya made sure of it.

But that didn’t stop the both of you. All the way from highschool until now in your university days, you and Megumi are still stuck together by the hip, occasionally fucking whenever time allowed. Weekdays are spent staring longingly at each other in the hallways, the weekends flourishing into finally’s and hushed kisses under the sheets, completely unaware of the world you both trudged in.

Today was one of those days, and you’re nothing less of passionate as you swipe your tongue out to taste his lips, smiling when you realize he’s also grown used to wearing your mint flavoured lip balm. “Mhm, Megumi, I missed you,” you placed your legs beside his arms, a contented sigh entering his mouth as he closed his eyes.

“You miss me? I’m always around you,” he reminds you, pulling away momentarily to tug your shirt to the side where he leaves a soft patch of kisses. “Never gonna leave your side, baby.”

“You better not. I’m the best you’ll ever have.”

Megumi nods wholeheartedly in agreement, not wasting time before he pulls you closer to him. You’re almost weightless as you crash on top of him, hands tangled into the other’s hair and his large palm squeezing your breast. It produces a breathy moan from you, a thread of saliva connecting your lips when it comes again – that hellish bitter and sour bile that flows up to your throat. You push yourself off him and run to the bathroom, the content of your stomachs poured while your groans echo around the room.

He’s beside you in an instant, crouching beside you to pull your hair up and pat your back. Once you’ve finished throwing up, you clutch at the indistinguishable bloating of your stomach, leaning back into his touch while you slowly regain your composure.

Your head is throbbing uncomfortably again, one that wouldn’t go away no matter how much you press your thumbs against it.

“Wh-what’s wrong? Are you sick or something?”

You chuckle a bit from the way he frets over you, hands tilting your cheeks side to side while he pales, a sheen of worry visible on his hairline. He’s always been such a worrywart. You look behind him and see the box of condoms in your half-open medicine cabinet, the sight making your heart drop in your chest.

“Megs...when was the last time we had sex?”

“Well,” he scratches the back of his head, “We’ve both been busy from uni, so...last month, I guess? It’s been a long time.”

You swallowed audibly. You’ve recently gotten that box of condoms because if you remember correctly, last time you both skipped straight to the deed after realizing you ran out of it. Eyes flicking over his confused ones, your throat ran dry and itchy from the throw up session, your voice low as you say, “I’m three weeks late on my period, Megs.”

He looks just as shocked as you are, but he doesn’t give you the time to recover before he rushes out into your apartment. For a moment, you’re left heartbroken at the cold bathroom tiles, thinking that he left, but Megumi comes back a few minutes later, a pregnancy test kit and some chocolates inside a plastic bag. Your eyes widen when he gently ushers you to sit on the toilet, his feet tapping impatiently on the floor while you both wait for the result.

And there it is.

The timer on his phone goes off. Megumi rushes beside you, his chin resting on your shoulder as he blinks at the test kit. He turns to you and blinks in question, wondering what the hell it meant.

“’Gumi...it’s positive,” you cry out, sending him into a stagger backwards when you jump at him. Thankfully, he’s carried you too many times to count that he’s natural at hoisting you into his arms, still rendered speechless as you announce, “You’re going to be a dad!”

It’s been five whole months since you and Megumi turned into being stable fuck buddies, intent on hiding your relationship from both your families, into homeless and young parents whose fear over life and the future only increased tenfold now with the growing baby inside you.

You still remember that dreadful moment when both of you are kicked out into your family estate, Megumi’s Uncle Naoya especially enraged over the news. He doesn’t even give his nephew a chance to pack his bags before he signals the bodyguards to escort you out, then takes away all Megumi’s privileges and former luxury of being part of the Zenin Clan. You assume he’d want to strangle his pitiful Uncle for the never ending mistreatment, but your now boyfriend is nothing but happy, relieved that he’s been freed from the tight reins that always got in both your way.

Unbeknownst to the controlling Zenin Clan head, his wife is much more cunning than he is. He knows his wife always had some sorts of tricks hidden up in her sleeve, but even you were surprised when Megumi’s Aunt Suki shows up in your college dorm one day, throwing a set of keys your way with a wink before driving off back to become Naoya’s beloved trophy wife.

She lent you one of her high-estate apartments and even a humble car, silently wiring fees into your bank account since Megumi’s was already shut down.

Truly, if it wasn’t for her, you and Megumi wouldn’t be able to live this comfortably no matter how much both of you worked your ass off.

Now, none of you had to worry about not getting to make ends meet, no more worrying about putting your health at risk by working two jobs a day along with university – you and Megumi agreed to take advantage of her kindness just until the baby was born, opting to live quietly and comfortably in your shared home that would soon be filled with more memories. Well, as comfortably as you both could anyway, since pregnancy – although a beautiful experience – wasn’t always rainbows and unicorns.

Megumi comes home one day, the food you’ve always been craving from the Chinese restaurant from the other town present inside his bag. He’s tired from uni, even more so that he shares your burden of becoming new parents, but every time he comes home to you, all his exhaustion is wiped away, especially with the evident growth of your belly.

Your boyfriend runs up to you after placing the food on the counter, his arms wide open to get a hug – he’s gotten extremely touchy ever since the pregnancy – when you reel away from him, face turning green.

Your fingers come to pitch at your nose, eyes narrowed at his confused pout. “Ugh, Megumi, your deodorant stinks.”

“You were the one who got this for me, though,” his brows furrow as he lifts his sleeve up to sniff himself. He doesn’t smell bad... “You said you liked it on me,” he mumbles more to himself than you, staying still in his spot when he sees how colourless you’ve become. “Why are you looking at me like that? I showered today.”

“I can’t stand the smell of you, I can’t, gosh,” pushing past him, you rush to the toilets, the morning sickness well present all the way until sundown as you throw up. Megumi stands at the doorway, hands extended in front of him as he’s unsure whether he could help you or not. You firmly shake your head at him, lips turned into a sneer. “No, don’t get near me or I will honestly whack you with my purse, Megumi. Get rid of that deodorant and find a scent free one or something.”

Megumi is left with a slack jaw when you hop into bed afterwards, too tired and irritated to finish your papers. Seeing that he should probably do the same and pamper you instead, Megumi is silent as he crawls under the covers, only to be kicked out with a harsh kick to his thigh and a fiery, “Get out!”

“Nobara,” he whines into the phone, too fearful to even look at the bedroom at the thought that you’d feel his gaze and get even angrier. Your instincts and senses sharpens with each passing day; he won’t risk it. “My girlfriend hates me!”

“I could see why.”

Megumi groans at his friend’s flippant tone, the sound of a nail file grazing acrylics mixed with lo-fi music playing from the other line. “I’m serious – she doesn’t even want me a foot near her! When I tried to join her on the bed, she literally woke up just to hit me with a pillow. Right in the face!”

“Let me guess, you’re banned from the bedroom and staying on the couch?”

“Yeah, I am,” he sulks on the couch, “I don’t know why she hates me. I can’t imagine what I did wrong.”

“You don’t have to do anything wrong for a pregnant woman to hate you, Fushiguro. It’s not your fault your face is just really annoying,” Megumi makes a sound of protest before slapping a hand over his lips, nervous gaze darting at your door again. He relaxes into the seat; you’ve probably fallen asleep. “But on a more serious note, I think it’s the hormones. She’s erratic right now and you can’t blame her, she’s literally growing a child inside of her, dude, are you crying?”

“She might divorce me because of my deodorant.”

“Idiot, you two aren’t even married!” Nobara bellows loud enough that Megumi pulls the phone away from his ear, waiting until she’s calmed down and continues speaking like she didn’t just burst his ear drums. “Listen, just be extra sweet and careful around her, okay? Don’t open your mouth as well unless you want to die. Now get a notepad or something, we’re going to devise the best Baby Mama Seduction Plan that is guaranteed to win her heart.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Nobara!”

“Hmph, you owe me tickets to that fashion show though. Get your rich ass uncle to pull some connections or something.”

“Nobara, you know I can’t—”

“Oh shit, is that your girl about to kick you in the face?” Megumi yelps as his body flips at the direction of your room, both hands raised in surrender with his phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. He sighs – the door is still closed – he should be safe for now. Meanwhile, Nobara snickers cockily, almost as if she could see everything. As always, Nobara was triumphant. “That’s right, we both don’t want that to happen, so stick to your end of the deal man.”

Megumi stays up the whole night to execute Nobara’s plan. It’s tiring to run back and forth in the open convenience stores just to fill the fridge up with all your favourite food, but Megumi is determined to have you accept him again, even if he knows you’re not actually rejecting him.

By the time you’ve woken up, all beautiful and glowing as you pad out your room, Megumi stands up straight to conceal his body ridden with exhaustion. He just wants to make you happy.

“What’s all this?”

“You’ve been working hard,” he starts off unsurely, a hand scratching the back of his head as he gauges for your reaction. You plop down on the dining table and don’t scowl as you take a whiff of the food, blinking for a few seconds before you dig in. It’s enough for him to take as a go-signal, and he walks beside you carefully, his voice wavering and soft. “I just wanted to surprise you – show you how much I love and admire you...all that.”

“That’s suspicious,” you mouth through a mouthful of dumpling, but smile anyways with your arms extended. “Come here, give me a kiss.”

Megumi is beyond elated as he buries himself in the warmth of your arms again, sighing when you kiss his cheeks and jaw. “Are we good?”

“Did you replace your deodorant?”

“Yes...”

“Good boy,” you kiss him on the lips this time. Megumi has the audacity to blush as if he didn’t just fuck a baby into you, making you laugh before you slap his ass, last night’s irration now replaced with a reminder that this was Megumi – your first love and everything more. There was no way you wouldn’t be ‘good’ with him; you’d go to heavens and back for him, but maybe once you’re done birthing his child. “Yeah, we’re good. Get the mint choco ice cream pint for me?” Megumi sprints to perform your commands, and you reward him by pulling him in for a deeper kiss the time, his lips so sweet and minty. You can’t help but sigh, falling for him over and over again. “You’re such a sweetheart, Megs. This is why I’m head over heels for you.”

“You didn’t want me sleeping beside you for a week straight though.”

Your nose scrunches at the memory – that slight change in your expression making Megumi step back – as you wave a spoon at him, glaring at him in warning. “Like I said, you stank.”

But...pregnancy wasn’t all that bad for the both of you. There were times you’re unable to keep your hands off him. Although unexpected and mostly occurring in the most inconvenient situations, Megumi can’t say he’s complaining, especially not when you push him towards the wall just as the elevator doors closed.

“Daddy,” you moan, guiding his hands into your already soaking wet panties. Megumi breathes sharply as he cups your drenching core, wondering how you’ve gotten this aroused without him doing anything sexual in particular.

The nickname spilling past your lips is unforeseen though, as is his growing kink for it when he hardens immediately.  

“Please, please, please, I need you so much – make me feel good, will you?”

Megumi has to pin your needy, trailing hands all over his chest down to your sides, his pupils blown wide as the elevator ascends from one floor to the other. His eyes dart to the blinking red light from the cameras, his Adam’s apple bobbing when you don’t stop in the slighthest, only leaning forward to tug and nip at the skin of his neck. Megumi groans at your ministrations; you know very well that was his sensitive spot. “Y/N, we’re literally in the elevator, just wait until we get back home—”

When Megumi tries to push you away to stop your hands from palming his boner, you growl, eyes fierce and heated as you turn to him. “Do you want me to chop your dick off and prevent you from having a second child?”

“N-no.”

“Then shut up and fuck me.”

“Fuck, okay, don’t blame me if I make you sore, though.”

You roll your eyes at him, your hands moving expertly as you bunch your skirt up to your waist to show him that your bud was already swollen just for him. “Megumi, my boobs are already are its most sore point, I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

Megumi makes quick work of shoving his pants down just to his knees, gentle yet needy as he pushes your chest flat on the walls, round and perky ass puckered for him to take you already. He could cum just from the sight of you bending over for him like this, your arousal already dripping down your thighs as you wiggle your hips at him, breathless in the desire to be taken once more.

There were still fifteen floors to go before you reached your destination. Megumi’s brows pinch together in anxiety that anyone could press for the lift, but you’re also submissively bent over for him, moaning and gasping his name even when it’s only the tip of his cock sliding into you.

He sees the way your fingers hover over the buttons, clearly more prepared to shut the doors and deny others entry than he was, and he thinks fuck it to himself before he buries himself deep into you, head thrown back at the heavenly and salacious feeling of fucking you raw. You’re somehow warmer and tighter, wetter with puffier lips during your second trimester. Just as he blanches at the thought he could hurt you, he remembers the doctor’s encouragement of more sex. Being the good boyfriend he is, Megumi fucks hard into you, groaning and panting when your walls clamp down on him.

He only wants to help you.

Days of rubbing your feet and singing to your belly were gone – now replaced with laughter pouring into your house and switching from listening to Mother Mother into actually enjoying nursery rhymes playing from the stereo.

It feels just like yesterday when he rushes you to the emergency room, your hand nearly crushing his during your contractions before you gave birth to his child.

Megumi has never really been much of an emotional person, preferring to be calm and stoic unless you’re around; the rare times he actually lets his walls down. Surrounded by a group of doctors, though, Megumi stops caring about saving face when they hand him his daughter. He isn’t the least bit embarrassed when he sobs upon seeing the tiny bundle of joy in his arms, so small and vulnerable that promised there and then – he’d do everything he can to protect his child and give them the best future.

Fushiguro Megumi is a hands-down helicopter dad. The moment you’re able to take your daughter back home, he’s already had the whole house baby proofed. Along with studying for his exams, he’s also switching back and forth to parenting guide books.

You can tell he’s taking his job as a dad very seriously. Megumi doesn’t hesitate to shoot out of the bed in the middle of the night whenever he hears his daughter cry, racing you to her crib while he rocks her back and forth and you prepare her milk. You’re both utterly tired and sleep deprived, your head resting on his shoulder as your baby calms down in his arms. Faintly, you feel him kiss the top of your head, encouraging you to go back to sleep with the assurance he can handle it.

But of course, you’re the stubborn parent, and you drag your boyfriend and daughter back to bed, making sure there was enough space to make her comfortable before falling asleep.

Being a parent – especially with the love of your life – has never felt any more magical.

Of course, it was hard and definitely not a walk in the park, but it was worth it. Every time you came home from school, Megumi would already be there, his daughter babbling nonsensically in his arms while he prepared her meals. At the sounds of the door opening, both of them would run to you, showering you with kisses while you did the same.

Both your families have still refused to accept you back – not that you both minded – but it was getting shameful to keep relying on his relative to provide for your family. Eventually, you and Megumi decided that the other stays to take care of your baby while you work after class.

You’re staggering inside your home like a zombie after a long day, muscles aching from too much work and brain barely functioning due to the lack of sleep. With a long, drawn out sigh, you plop on the couch next to your boyfriend who jolts back awake, still careful not to let his drooling daughter wake up in his arms. Upon seeing it’s just you, Megumi leans over to kiss you on the nose, smelling sweetly of floral detergent powder and baby cologne.

“Welcome home,” he murmurs at your skin, your eyes already fluttering close at the comfort and warmth of home. “Scarlet is fast asleep. She couldn’t wait for you to kiss her goodnight anymore.”

“Don’t be dramatic. Mommy will always come home to the two most precious people in the world,” Now, it’s your turn to kiss Megumi to remind him he’s also doing a great job. You know he’s working just as hard you are, and you honestly don’t think you could do this without him. “Megumi,” you begin, tracing soft circles into his wrist to feel his lulling heartbeat.

“Hmm?”

“Have I ever told you I loved you?”

“I think I know that already,” he smiles romantically at you – even after years, you’re still very much smitten with that smile, and the sight of him and your daughter alone has you relaxing back in your seat.

“Yes, but you need to hear it again,” you tell him, cupping his face into your palms. Megumi sighs as he leans closer into your warmth, his hands patting your daughter’s back to soothe her in her slumber. “You’re such a natural at this – being a father. I’m really lucky I had a family with you. It’s all I ever wanted,” Burying yourself closer into his arms and collecting the both of them into an embrace, you smile into his shoulder, feeling like you’re on cloud nine. “I don’t think life is gonna get better than this, Megs. I’m so happy right now I feel like I could die.”

“Don’t say the d-word around her,” he jokes, the two of you sharing tired and dry laughter. Once the amusement subsides, Megumi’s other hand shifts to squeeze your thigh to get your attention. “Y/N...do you ever think about...making us official?”

“What do you mean?” you mumble sleepily, “How else official could we get? We live together and we have a baby. Soon, we’re going to be employed too and then we can provide better for her and stop relying on Aunt Suki so much,” Megumi nods above you, but his lack of response is worrying that you look up to him, frowning as you see that his face is pulled deep into thought. “We’re already a family, Megs. What’s on your mind?”

“I want to marry you,” he blurts out, “I want to make you mine and mine only – I see a future and a forever with you,” Megumi looks you straight in the eye the whole time. “Marry me, Y/N. Please.”

You’re rendered speechless.

You love him so much, you really do, and nothing about that will change. After spending a lifetime with you, Megumi knows just by looking at your face that there’s a but coming afterward and he clenches his jaw, sadness swirling in his eyes that you have to stop him before his thoughts run off again. “I want that too, Megumi, believe me,” you reassure, brushing his hair back with your fingers; a gesture that always pulled him back to you. “I just don’t want to rush things, you know? We can still barely stand on our own and we have Scarlet to worry about. I think we should focus more on her future than ours.”

Megumi nods, albeit disappointed, though this doesn’t stop him from kissing you straight on the lips before he mutters, “I understand but...think about it, at least?”

“You already know my answer would be yes.”

“Scarlet! I wonder where my little princess is hiding,” Megumi announces from outside your room, your toddler giggling beside you as you both hide behind the closet hand-in-hand. Four years later, you and Megumi are married, and life’s gotten a lot easier – in addition to it being a whole lot more domestic since Megumi takes his husband title just as seriously as being a father. Right now, he’s crawling outside, his voice lowered in an attempt to be scary. “If I find her, she’s going to face the wrath of the tickle monster!”

“Tickle monster!” Scarlet gasps beside you, turning to you with wide eyes. “Mummy, I don’t want tickles!”

“Then we better be quiet so Daddy doesn’t find us!”

With your voice intentionally louder than a whisper, it doesn’t take long before Megumi opens the closet doors, carrying you both effortlessly before dropping you all down onto the bed. “I found you!” You all tickle each other and laugh, your daughter falling into panicked squeals while you chortle at the side. Megumi then hoists Scarlet up before the both of you kiss both sides of her cheeks, sending the giggling child into an utter ticklish mess.

While the two are busy tickling one another, you feign a gasp, clutching at your husband’s bicep.  “Megumi!” your eyes widen, pointing deftly at the kitchen with trembling lips for effect. “Can you please check the oven – I think I left something in there and it might be burning!”

“I don’t smell anything,” is all he says, but runs there anyway. Megumi stands in front of in confusion, Scarlet safely bundled in his arms while her father opens the oven, frowning as he takes the object out and inspects it. “Mittens? But Scarlet is already—” Just then, Megumi’s jaw drops, his grin stretched wide while Scarlet keeps poking at the mittens, trying to make them fit into her slightly larger hands. “No way. Another one?”

“Another candy?”

You laugh at Megumi’s beaming face that matches his daughter’s – the two looking too much alike – but for completely opposite reasons. “We’ll get you all the candies you want, sweetheart,” you swipe a candy from the counter and hand it to your daughter’s grabby hands, pecking Megumi’s cheeks who is still beyond flustered at the announcement. “But yeah we have another one – and it’s a boy!”