#THROUGH THE DOORWAY OF A NATION. [ IC. ]

[zeveth]

[ @dimensionalspades ! ( continued. ) “That’s good to hear.” He was mostly proud of that. DS9 wasn’t immune to people holding grudges or treating others terribly. And being so close to the end of the war, he was more surprised people were so welcoming. “That’s quite the story- unexpected friends in unexpected places. Did you explore much when you traveled together? I’m sure the Alpha Quadrant is all still new territory.” He thought of Goran'Agar again, wondering if he died alone with his unit or if he’d been found and killed some other way. He liked to think of him hiding out in comfort somewhere, but that was improbable. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad both of you lived. I’m sure between the three of us, we can do quite a bit of good!”

"Unfortunately not," she leaned back, a soft sigh on her words as if to let memory drift by on a breeze, just out of reach. "I'm afraid we never did make it together to the Alpha Quadrant. Though we came to understand one another rapidly, our time was short. The Dominion was as much on his tail as mine, and soon-- well." A faint laugh. She pulled a smirk, eyes sharp and back on Julian. "The Federation caught up with us. I was taken prisoner. I think you can guess the rest."

Her expression softened, and she shook her head almost imperceptibly. "There was a time I might not have believed your words. But now, I can see that you mean them. I appreciate your goodwill and intent. And I think you're right. Your input will be invaluable. I can appreciate that, too."

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Home Intruder.

Continuation of Homebound.

Pairing: Yandere!Childe x Reader (+Diluc).

Word Count: 3.5k.

TW: Stalking, Obsessive Behavior, Violence, A Kid Continues To Be Involved And How Childe Acquired This Kid Continues To Be Dubious, and Descriptions of Abuse.

You first saw Childe three days after you arrived at the Dawn Winery.

Through the window, standing on the edge of the vinery, standing behind a pair of his subordinates as they spoke to a small group of farmhands. From your (temporary, you assured yourself, temporary) bedroom, you could only make out a swath of ginger hair, a collection of silver medals standing against the dull grey of his uniform, the familiar heap of dark fabric thrown over his arm, but you attempted to tell yourself that it wasn’t him, actually, that he’d still be in Mondstadt – wreaking havoc and tearing the city apart in search of you. A foolish thing to think, in hindsight. He knew that you would journey through all of Teyvat to escape him. Walking across a single nation was completely within the realm of possibility.

You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t him, and then, his head jerked upward, his soulless eyes immediately finding your bedroom window, and all of your misplaced hope was immediately dispelled.

He couldn’t see you. You were too far away, the glass was too thick, and you knew he couldn’t see you, and yet, you immediately dropped to the floor, falling onto your knees and slotting yourself against the wall just below your windowsill. Your second reflex hit only a moment later: to run to Lina, to the nursery just down the hall. It wasn’t safe here. You could take her somewhere else – to Fontaine, where even the Fatui were held to the word of the law, or Liyue— No, no, not Liyue, that was his territory, and Sumeru was too untamed, you’d never make it on foot. Inazuma might offer haven, if you could find a vessel willing to—

You heard the door to your bedroom creak open, and your scattered thoughts were silenced by a bolt of pure, unbridled adrenaline. Without giving yourself time to think, you lashed out wildly, spending a dagger of ice flying toward the invader. A dagger of ice that was, predictably, turned into little more than a harmless puddle of lukewarm water by a small shield of flame, dropped as soon as the incoming threat had been melted away.

Diluc stayed in the doorway, remaining stoic as he evaluated you, shrunken and huddled on the floor. “Good morning.”

He took a step towards you, extending a hand. You did not move to take it. “He’s in the vineyard.”

His gaze flickered towards the window. “So he is. But, you have nothing to worry about.” He’d left the door open. You were thankful for his forgetfulness – you didn’t want to be alone with anyone, let alone another powerful man with a powerful Vision. At the same time, you loathed him for it, for leaving you so vulnerable with so little thought. “I’ve asked Elzer to tell our guests that any wayward travelers are to be considered under my protection. That is, if he has the nerve to seek you out so directly.”

You curled into yourself further, burying your face in your knees. “You told him where we are?”

“I told him that you were beyond his reach, and that you would remain that way for as long as you were in my care.” Now, he crouched to your height. He did not offer you his hand again, but rather, clasped both at his midriff, leaving an arm’s length of empty space between him and you. “What are you afraid he’s going to do?”

Kill you. Take Lina. Throw her into the abyss and make her claw her way back up, until she was just as cold and just as hollow as he was. Fill your chest with water and break your legs and lock you away where you’d never see the sun again. Leave you helpless and hopeless and trapped at his side. Do anything but kill you.

“I—" Your voice cut out, your vision dimming black around the edges. It was getting hard to breathe. You could practically feel the rising tide seeping into your lungs. “He’s going to take me back to Snezhnaya.”

“And what is he going to do to you, in Snezhnaya?”

Kill you. Kill Lina. Kill you. Kill you. Kill you.

“He’ll force me to marry him. He’ll turn Lina into a soldier, or a weapon, or him.”

“And why do you think I’d allow that?”

You snapped towards him, baring your teeth. “He’s not going to ask for your permission,” And then, a moment later, when you came to your senses, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so harsh with you. Childe is a very twisted man, and the things he desires are…” You trailed off, burrowing your nails into your legs, but your heart was slowly falling out of your throat, your mind slowly beginning to clear. “They aren’t good. He wouldn’t be good, for Lina.”

“Then, we’ll have do our best to make it so that he never reaches her.” With a soft grunt, he pushed himself to his feet, rising to his full height. After a deep breath, you followed in-suit, brushing yourself off and smoothing over your nightclothes - worn more often than not, due to both your limited wardrobe and your hesitance to wander farther than the second floor of his manor. You weren’t sure why you bothered, he had already seen you bloody and exhausted and barely able to hold yourself up, but it seemed wise to make the effort. “Lina’s still asleep. I haven’t had much time to get to know her myself, but Adelinde tells me that she’s adjusting quite well, albeit with a bit much to say about the accommodations.”

“She’s always been picky,” you muttered, drawing the airiest chuckle from Diluc. Despite its softness, you squared your shoulders, attempting to retain as much of your pride as you could. “If she’s fussing, give her something fur-lined and keep her warm. She hates being cold more than anything.”

“I’ll let the maids know,” He turned to the door and, glancing over his shoulder, gave you a questioning look, as if asking if whether or not you cared to follow. “Unless you’d like to tell them yourself?”

You shut your eyes, but opened them quickly enough, straightening your back and walking through the open door with as much confidence as you could manage.

~

You saw Childe for the second time several weeks later, within the stifling confines of Diluc’s office.

While you couldn’t summon the strength to go beyond the mansion’s walls, not when the maids seem to so often return from their errands with complaints of a ‘red haired foreigner’ who stalked them through the marketplace, but you tried to make yourself useful when you could, to help with the housework and when your limited bureaucratic skills would allow it, aid Diluc with whatever mindless paperwork running a winery entailed. Currently, you were laid across the loveseat adjacent to the desk where Diluc sat, sorting through an impressive collection of different granted licenses and requested permits, keeping an eye on Lina as she stumbled clumsily around the limited space.

She was just starting to walk – albeit, for no more than a few steps at a time before she dropped back to her hands and knees and took to crawling like a crazed geovishap hatchling once more. Her newest goal seemed to be to crash into as many sharp edges as possible, and it was all you (and Diluc, when he took a break from his work to distract your willful daughter from her self-pummelation with cooed pleas and glowing birds made from softened flames) could do to limit the damage.

“She’s quite energetic,” he muttered, as he sent a palm-sized hawk soaring toward the low ceiling. Lina clapped excitedly, giggling and clutching at the wisps of smoke. “Should I assume she takes after her guardian?”

“If you fancied yourself a blind man, you might.” To say she took anything from you would have been a severe exaggeration, if not an outright lie. She was your daughter, but she hadn’t always been, and a day didn’t pass where you weren’t reminded of that in one way or another. “If anything, she’s left more of an impression on me. I used to enjoy sleeping past sunrise, but Lina managed to break that habit within weeks of her arrival.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Diluc’s lips. He started to straighten his back, to say something, but the door to his office opened before he had the chance – Adelinde, jaw set and eyes narrowed, standing in the doorway. “Master Diluc, we have a—”

“Thank you, ma’am, but I can make my own introductions.” Recognition was instant, the accompanying fear flooding in a moment later. You went rigid in your seat, your body preparing to run, but it was too late to escape. The only exit was already occupied by the very threat you needed to get away from. “Master Diluc and I share something better discussed in confidentiality,” Childe went on, stepping into the office, leaving a string of subordinates in the hall. “If you’d be so kind as to give us a few minutes alone?”

Adelinde pursed her lips. “Five minutes, exactly.” And then, by way of explanation, “The young Master’s time is a very precious thing.”

Childe only nodded, already claiming the armchair most directly across from Diluc’s desk. “Oh, I’m sure that he has many precious things, doesn’t he?”

Any trace of emotion wiped from his expression, Diluc turned to face the familiar intruder, dismissing Adelinde with a curt nod. Childe did not look toward you, did not pay so much as a wayward glance to Lina, but you called her to you regardless, pulling her into your lap and against your chest despite her hushed sounds of protest. He would have to wrench her from your arms, if he wanted to so much as touch her. You would not make the mistake of leaving her unattended, of leaving her vulnerable. Not again.

DIluc spoke first. “To what do I owe the honor, Lord Tartaglia?”

Mirth had always come easily to Childe, even if his joy was often hollow or sadistic. This may have been the most tense you’d ever seen his smile, the most strained. “I was just passing through the area and thought I might pay my pleasantries to the owner of the manor. The Fatui has always attempted to show appreciation to our dear friends in Mondstadt, after all.” Diluc’s lips quirked, but otherwise, he remained unfazed. Childe went on, leaning back in his seat. “And, of course, I figured it was time to collect the rest of my little family. I know my…” For the first time, he turned his attention to you, those empty eyes prying into the core of your being. A deep chill settled beneath your skin, but you attempted to ignore it, to block out all but the weight of Lina against you and the instinct to keep her wrapped in your arms as tightly as her squirming would allow. “I know my partner has a tendency to stray. It’s my only remorse that my poor daughter had to be dragged into such untimely adventures, and my only hope that they didn’t manage to outwear your hospitality.”

“You partner?” You noticed, not for the first time, how unlike Diluc’s eyes were to Childe’s – bright where his were faded, vivid where Childe’s had lost their luster. They were, however, not without their similarities. The spark that played across Diluc’s gaze as he met Childe’s stare, for example, was uncannily alike to the look that seemed to come over Childe whenever he saw an opportunity to draw blood. “Surely, you aren’t talking about my fiancé.”

For a moment, all was still.

And then, you swallowed back your nerves, letting out a shallow sigh as you shook your head. Despite your mimicked reluctance, you raised your voice, doing what you could to ensure those waiting in the hall would hear you clearly. “I thought we weren’t going to tell anyone yet, honey.”

“Pardon my eagerness,” He threw you a small smile; so practiced, it was practically gilded into place. “I figured letting one of our dear friends from the north wouldn’t hurt, and you know I’ve been dying to break the—”

“Cut the bullshit.” His smile had fallen, his expression returning to one of pure, concentrated aggression. Not so much outward hostility, but a clear readiness to fight; the unfaltering focus of a soldier looking for his battle. “I came for my family. I’m not leaving this nation without them.”

“You have no family here.” Easy, immediate, rehearsed and ready to be invoked. “Within the boundaries of this winery, the only items you have in your possession are my quickly thinning patience and a standing death sentence, should you try to lay a hand on any member of my household.”

“Households can be burnt down – or better yet, washed away.” He pushed himself to his feet, a translucent polearm manifesting in one hand while the other slammed into Diluc’s desk. You flinched, pushing yourself deeper into worn velvet cushions, but Diluc held steady, unrelenting in the face of a man gone mad with obsession. “I only wonder how many of your servants will have to drown in their own blood before you return what doesn’t belong to you.”

Diluc raised his hand, and an iron claymore appeared in his right hand, black as night and sharp as starlight. It hit nearly matched his height, the angular blade cutting deep into the floorboards with ease, but Childe’s eyes never left Diluc’s, nor did Diluc allow his attention to slip from Childe. “Try it, Harbinger. You will not be the first of your kind that I’ve slain.”

Childe seemed to consider it for a long, agonizing moment. Spurs of ice began to prickle at your fingertips, heat rolling off of Diluc’s claymore in waves, but mercifully, miraculously, Childe drew back, letting his polearm dissipate into a cloud of mist and sparks. “You should count yourself fortunate that I know how delicate my beloved is,” he spat, already turning his back to Diluc. “Next time I cross your path, I won’t be this reserved.”

“Let us hope for a swift reunion, then.”

Childe scoffed, but did not offer another rebuttal. With a single half-hearted kick, the door was torn off of its hinges and sent crashing to the floor. He exited the manor with no further contest, his subordinates scurrying behind him. When you could no longer hear his footsteps, his muffled cursing, Diluc turned back to you, the work on his desk clearly forgotten. “I believe you were telling me about how Lina took to Mondstadt?”

You took a deep breath, attempting to steady yourself. “Right.” You paused, just barely letting yourself relax. “Now that you mention it, I suppose she’s always had a bit of a preference.”

~

The third and final time you saw Childe, he was crouching in your windowsill, his form silhouetted by the dim moonlight. You’d bolted awake at the sound of breaking glass, the hollow thud of an arrow planting itself in the opposing wall, but you only had a moment to take him in before he was on you.

For all your tenacity, he’d caught you off-guard, and your strength was nothing compared to his. He was on top of you in a second, had you pinned in another, his pam slotted over your mouth and his body crouched over yours. He was erratic in his desperation, his breathing heavy and his eyes filled with a certain mania you’d only ever seen when he returned from his missions, from his slaughters. A familiar terror rattled through your body, the faint taste of your own blood rising into the back of your throat, but if he wanted to kill you, you’d already have a hunting knife planted in your neck. What he had in store for you was something you feared far more than death.

You tried to scream from behind his hand, but he bared his teeth. “Quiet,” he hissed, close enough for his breath to ghost over the shell of your ear. “We wouldn’t want your little savior to come running, now, would we?”

Another shriek, just as stifled as the first. That earned a slight smile, a kiss to your temple, then another to your forehead, both lingering too long for comfort. He went for your lips, as well, but pulled back before he could truly attempt to make contact, already laughing at himself. “We’ll have time for that later on.” He bowed his head, leaning down far enough to bury his face in the crook of your neck, to inhale your scent. “As soon as I get you home, and I’m gonna get you home.” His teeth scraped over your skin. “I’m gonna get you home, and then, you’ll never have to leave me again.”

Your eyes went wide. You made another sound – softer, closer to a whimper than anything else, and immediately, Childe understood. You’d always hated that about him, just how easily he could read your panic. “We can have another. No distractions, this time.”

It was strange, the suddenness of it, the feeling of ice-cold adrenaline spreading through your veins like frost. You didn’t know what you were doing, what you were trying to do, not before a pillar of solid ice erupted from the minimal space between your body and his, throwing him upward and into the ceiling. You managed to scramble to your feet by the time his body came crashing back down, his shoulder colliding hard with the floor, and yet, he rose without issue, the only evidence of his pain residing in the tight, fanged sneer stretched across his lips. He summoned no weapon, took no stance, but you stiffened as he turned to face you, as he began to stalk forward.

“Stay where you are.” It was a struggle just to keep your voice steady, just to stop your knees from buckling underneath you. You pressed your back into the wall, fists curled and shaking at your sides. “If you take a step closer, I swear to—”

“What are you going to do, sweetheart? Kill me?” A step forward, then another. You could see the awkward slant of his dislocated shoulder, the trickle of dark blood slowly dripping from the corner of his mouth, and then, the moonlight glinting off a wall of ice, curved and jagged, vaulting from the floor at your feet. The spiked edges caught on Childe’s coat, tearing through fabric and skin in one unfaltering motion, leaving blood smeared across the points of your makeshift barrier. He let out a growl, low and feral, and reached for the bow fastened to his back. The bow he had never before thought you formidably enough to draw.

The bow you still were, thankfully, infuriatingly, undeserving of. His fingertips barely brushed against the grip before his hand away, finding a place to rest on the bicep of his injured arm, instead. “I love you,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do – love you, and when you’re finished playing house, I’ll be here to prove it. Don’t forget that when your little knight shows his true colors.”

He moved slowly, hauling himself towards the window he’d slipped into. You could’ve shot a bolt of ice into his back, could’ve found something to shatter over his head and end this all for good, but you didn’t, couldn’t seem to move as he slipped out of the shattered window and back into the night. Already planning to haunt you for another night, no doubt.

You weren’t sure how long you remained there, your feet frozen to the ground and your body too stiff to comprehend the idea of movement. It felt like hours, days, and yet, the sun never rose, the maids never came running, and nothing in the world seemed to change save for you and the glass shards that cut into your heels as you made your way to the bedroom door, then down the hall – finding Lina’s nursery and gathering your daughter in your arms. You didn’t remain there, but rather, ventured through the manor until you found Diluc’s chambers, the grand oak doors left unlocked. Before you could bring yourself to feel much of anything, you slipped inside and, with Lina still asleep and pressed into your chest, into the vacant side of his bed. Sheets rustled, the down-stuffed mattress dipped, and you felt a strong arm wrap around your midriff, a broad chest press into your back. His warmth, although now a little smothering, was enough to soften the ice that’d formed in your blood.

You closed your eyes and slept peacefully for first time in a very, very long while.

[darkeralmond]

Dance With Me

Luke Hughes x Reader

song: dance with me - beabadoobee

synopsis: luke and you dated all through sophomore, junior, and part of senior year. luke had his hands tied with hockey, so the both of you decide to break up. now, you’re alone at prom and luke is back to make things right

warnings: fluff, high school au!, exes to lovers, second chance romance, luke being the cutest ever, dance with me lyrics literally everywhere

word count: 1.6k

a/n: i’ve been posting a lot of conrad stuff so i would like to post something luke hughes related bc i just love him so much! i have a lot more conrad stuff coming don’t worry!! ALSO I LOVE BEABADOOBEE SHE IS THE CUTEST I SWEARR!!

masterlist | request info

4 MONTHS AGO

You would’ve preferred spending the night hanging out with Luke instead of sitting alone on your couch eating rocky road ice cream while watching Scream 2. Luke was busy preparing to go to Team USA for hockey. You wanted to be supportive and have him stay focused on that instead of you. He’s always wanted to go to the national hockey league, which is why playing on a national team was super important. You knew that.

Someone knocked on the front door which interrupted you from your movie. You looked back as your eyebrows knitted together. You placed down the quart of ice cream and paused your movie before heading up to the door. What if you were about to get killed? This was the start of every horror movie. Someone alone in their house while watching a scary movie.

‘Whatever,’ you thought. You opened it up to see Luke standing in the doorway, a frown on his face. Something was wrong. “Hey, baby. What’s the matter?” you asked.

He flashed a false smile, “Hey… can we sit for a bit?” That was never a good sign. You nodded your head as you listened to the beat of your heart as it pulsed. You invited him in and he sat down on the couch. “Look, Y/N…”

Instantly, you knew. The hanging of his head, the lack of eye contact, his anxiously toying with his thumbs. “You wanna break up,” you cut in. His brown eyes were full of sorrow as he met yours.

You nodded your head and looked at the tub of ice cream melting in the container. The lump in your throat grew, but you didn’t want to crack in front of him.

Luke placed his hand in yours, “It’s not because of you, I promise. It’s not that I don’t love you anymore. It’s just..”

“You’ll be gone for hockey,” you finished. He nodded his head, now looking down at his knees again. You watched him in your peripheral vision because you knew if you met his eyes, he would know how much it truly hurt you.

It didn’t take a look for your face to scrunch up as tears escaped your eyes. You took in a sniffled inhale through your nostrils and let out a shaky exhale through your mouth. “It’s okay, I understand.” You grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight.

He looked up and smiled sadly at you before leaning forward and kissing your forehead. You reached for the tissue box on the coffee table and retrieved a tissue. You dabbed at the salty tears staining your cheeks.

His lips met yours gently before he said, “I love you so much.” You stared into his brown eyes that were now red from holding back tears.

“I love you too,” you whispered. Holding back the sobs stuck in your throat felt impossible, but you had to stay strong for him.

His hand then slipped out of yours as he got up from his spot on the couch. He used the back of his hand to wipe away the few tears that seemed to escape. “Good bye, Y/N…”

“Bye, Luke…” With that, he left out the front door. You watched from the window in the living room as the headlights to his car turned on and pulled out of your driveway.

You hysterically cried on the couch, now letting all your emotions free. Your chest hurt and your body burned, it felt like your heart could explode right out of your rib cage. You hated the feeling that you were selfish for reacting this way. Luke was only following his dreams like you told him to, it was your job as your girlfriend to let him go when a bigger opportunity came. It’s just that no one warned you that letting go would hurt so bad…

PRESENT DAY

“Who’s having fun tonight?!” The DJ shouted over the mic. It was finally prom night and your first prom without Luke.

You had a date, Jason Porter. He was someone who showed an interest in you near the beginning of senior year, but you were with Luke. It wasn’t like you wanted to go to prom with Jason in a romantic way, but all your friends had dates, so it felt mandatory to ask someone.

When you all finally arrived at the dance, he immediately ditched you to go hang out with his baseball buddies instead of you. He stuck with his friends while you stuck with yours.

Your friend, Andrea, wrapped her arm around you and pulled you into a side hug. “He’s an idiot. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

Prom finally transitioned to the slow dancing period which is what you dreaded. The instrumental for Perfect by Ed Sheeran began playing, so your friends and their dates went onto the dance floor after you insisted you’d be good chilling by yourself.

You looked down at your hands and fiddled with your thumbs, something Luke would do when he’s nervous or upset. Just last year, you were dancing with him out there to this exact song. Now here you were, alone and miserable. You couldn’t help but feel pathetic.

You assumed Luke wouldn’t be back for prom, but you didn’t want to call or text him for confirmation. You figured he was too busy to talk to you which is why you didn’t make an effort to contact him.

“Y/N,” a voice spoke.

Guess you were wrong. You looked up and there he was standing right in front of you. Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at him in disbelief. “Luke?” You stood up and grabbed his face. It was him. You pulled him into a hug, laughing as you did so.

When you pulled back you rested your forehead against his. His hand was behind your head, resting on your neck. “Oh my God, Luke. I missed you so much!”

He kissed the top of your head and smiled widely, “I missed you too, Y/N. How have you been?”

You giggled, “Well at the moment, not too good. All my friends are out dancing with their dates, so I’m kind of lonely.”

“Well, where’s yours?” he asked, looking around.

“Um,” you mumbled. “He kind of ditched me, but it’s fine. Just sucks that there’s really no one to dance with.” You were obviously hinting that you wanted to dance with him.

He looked behind him at the people dancing and then back at you. “If you wanna dance… then dance with me.” Your mouth became too dry to speak. The fact he was here and the fact he wanted to dance. “It’s pretty fast, but this is what you do at prom, right?”

You cracked a smile and said, “Of course I want to dance.”

He led you toward the dance floor where you both started swaying with the music. He lifted your hand and rested it against his hip, he grabbed the other with his own hand as they moved to the beat. You looked up at his face to see his smile widening. “You look beautiful tonight,” he said.

You giggled and looked down at his suit. “Thank you, you look handsome.” You met his gaze again. “How’s Team USA?”

“Really fucking time consuming,” he laughed. You laughed with him as he continued his answer. “We’re always playing, and when we’re not playing we’re busting our asses on the ice.”

You felt unfamiliar with him holding you so close, you took a couple deep breaths. ‘Just take it slow and move your feet,’ you thought as you held onto the brunet. He held your waist and your eyes trailed along every feature of his face, memorizing each detail.

When you glanced up, his eyes were already trained on yours. He leaned towards you, capturing your lips in his. The kiss wasn’t long or passionate, instead it was sweet and comforting.

When you broke apart, he said, “I’m sorry about how things ended.” He ran his fingers through your hair to get the baby strands out of your face. “I’m sorry it ended at all.”

“I’m sorry for not reaching out,” you admitted. You bit down on your bottom lip as you stared into his gorgeous eyes. They held something else, some sort of pain and guilt.

“I’ve been miserable without you and I just really want to make things work. I don’t care about the distance, I only care about you.” His voice lowered to a whisper.

“Luke,” you frowned. “Are you sure you can handle a relationship while you’re gone?”

“You’re more than just a relationship, Y/N,” he said. “I know it’s kind of hard to tell, but I really like you.”

A small smile appeared on your face. “And I really like you too, Luke.”

He grinned at you, causing your heart to skip a beat. He brought a finger to your chin, raising it up. “Then will you give me another chance? I promise you won’t regret it.”

You nodded your head, trying to keep the tear that threatened to fall from falling. You didn’t want your makeup running down your face or to get mascara on your dress, so you quickly wiped away the escaping tears with your thumb. “Yeah…” You nodded once more. “I want that.”

Luke placed his forehead against yours again and held you closer. “So does that mean we can try again?” His words caused your heart to flutter once more.

“Of course it does, dummy,” you teased before kissing him gently.

[tortillamastersblog]

♕ No Matter What - Part 3 | Lena Luthor ♕

Pairing: Lena Luthor x reader

Warnings: mentions of minor violence, minor injuries and anxiety attacks

Summary: Following the breakfast with Lena, things have changed between the two of you. You’re not exactly friends, but you smile at each other now and engage in small talk every now and then.

Things couldn’t be better. That’s until your past starts haunting you again.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

________________________________________________

It’s Friday and it’s my first day off since starting. Lena is working from home which means I don’t have to worry about her.

I got up early this morning, went for a run, showered and then cleaned up around the apartment a little. I also went grocery shopping and cooked some lunch before reading on my balcony.

Now I’m weaving through the cars of one of National City’s middle school parking lots, heading to the soccer field behind the school.

“Y/N!”

I beam at the girl whose eyes light up when I approach the field. She drops her water bottle and rushes over to embrace me in a hug.

“What’s up, Ruby?” I squeeze her tightly before letting go. “How’s my favorite godchild doing?”

Ruby giggles and rolls her eyes. “Good, considering I’m the only one you have.“

I scoff playfully and say, “Okay, rude!” which makes her giggle even more.

I haven’t seen her since I started the new job, so I’m excited to spend some time with her. When Sam asked me if I’d be willing to pick her up from practice this morning I immediately agreed. That way Sam can finish the presentation she’s been working on at work and I can spend some time with my favorite child.

“Now go get your stuff so we can get going.” I nudged her in the direction of the field and greeted her her coach with a nod when he recognizes me.

Ruby runs to grab her bags and hug her friends goodbye before returning to my side. I wordlessly take them from her once she’s within reach and sling one of them over my shoulder.

She smiles in gratitude and holds onto my elbow as we make our way through the parking lot, back to my car. I usually bike everywhere because it beats the traffic in the city, but out here in the suburbs things are easier with a car.

“Your mom’s going to be home for dinner, so I thought we could surprise her with some homemade pizza,” I suggest as soon as we get to the car.

Ruby’s eyes light up and she nods vigorously while I throw her bags in the trunk. “And some ice cream for dessert!”

I laugh and get into the driver’s seat, turning on the car as Ruby gets in next to me. “Sure.”

“Yay!”

The drive to Sam’s house is filled with laughter and random chatter. Ruby tells me about her day at school and I share what I’ve been up to before I picked her up.

It’s nice and lighthearted and soon we pull into the driveway of my best friend’s house. Ruby jumps out of the car and grabs her bags from the trunk.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” I opening the back door to grab the groceries I bought before picking up Ruby. I got everything we need for the homemade pizza, plus Ruby’s favorite ice cream since I knew she’d want some and I wasn’t sure Sam had any left in their freezer.

“Can you help me with my history project?” she asks and I nod, locking the car.

“Of course, but go take a shower first,” I say as I unlock the front door.

“Thank you!” Ruby takes off her shoes by the coat rack and darts up the stairs.

I smile to myself and close the door after taking off my own shoes. Then I head to the kitchen where I get started on the pizza dough.

The front door opens just as Ruby and I take the finished pizza out of the oven.

“What smells so nice?” Sam asks, appearing in the doorway a second later.

“Mom!”

Ruby rushes past me, the food seemingly forgotten, and greets her mom with a hug.

I smile and place the pizza on the counter. “Just in time. We made pizza.”

Sam kisses the top of Ruby’s head and lets go of her to hug me. “Amazing, I’m starving. Shall we?”

She grabs the plates I already set out on the counter and takes them to the living room where she sets them down on the coffee table.

Ruby follows her with three cans of soda, plopping down on the couch next to her mom.

I cut the pizza and put the slices on a serving plate before joining the two girls.

Sam puts on a movie, unprompted, and we start eating in silence.

It isn’t until all the pizza is gone and the movie is almost over that Ruby turns to Sam with a hopeful smile. “Can I have ice cream now?”

Sam frowns and pauses the movie. “We ran out two nights ago, Rubes.”

Ruby shakes her head and says, “Y/N bought some.”

“Well,” Sam says with a faint smile, “Then I guess it’s Y/N’s call.”

Ruby’s attention turns to me. She gives me her best puppy-dog eyes and I can’t help but give in, not that i was going to object in the first place. “Go ahead.”

I lean forward to grab my drink off the coffee table, but Ruby’s arms around my neck pull me back, effectively knocking the wind out of me. “Thank youuuu!”

I cough and pinch her thigh. “Yeah, yeah. Now get your ice cream before I change my mind.”

Sam smiles at the interaction, waiting for Ruby to be out of earshot to say, “Thank you for today. I know it was your day off, but the presentation was just, a lot, and then the meeting this morning ran over—“ She stops when I raise an eyebrow and takes a deep breath. Her shoulders sag and her bottom lip trembles with suppressed emotion. “I’m sorry. Just— Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

My gaze softens and I take one of her hands between my own. It’s never been easy for her as a single mother, and now she’s a single mother with a stressful job and a lot of responsibilities and I know that it gets to be just a little too much sometimes. “Don’t apologize, Sammy—“ her bottom lip trembles harder and tears spring to her eyes at the old nickname—“I love you, and I love Ruby. You’re my family, and I’d do anything for you and that little gremlin.”

“Hey!” She scoffs with a watery smile. “Who are you calling a gremlin, you big ogre.”

I laugh softly and squeeze her hand, ignoring her last comment when I lean in to whisper, “No matter what, remember?”

Sam squeezes her eyes shut, willing her tears away as she nods. “No matter what,” she whispers.

I put my arm around her shoulder and pull her into my side. No matter what…We’re there for each other, no matter what. It’s a promise we’ve made to each other ever since we were kids.

When Ruby comes back, Sam resumes the movie without moving from my side. “You okay, mom?”

“I’m fine, sweetheart. Just tired,” Sam says, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Satisfied with the reply, Ruby settles in next to her and starts eating her ice cream.

I lean back as well, ready to get back into the movie when my phone vibrates in my back pocket. I take it out and freeze when my eyes land on the message on the lock screen.

Darling, I know you don’t want to, but it would mean the world to me and your dad if you came by after your work next Wednesday. We could have dinner and watch Noah’s favorite movies.

I get to my feet without thinking, starling both Sam and Ruby.

Yeah right, he wants to see me. Not a chance…Not after what I’ve done. Not after what happened to Noah because of me.

“Y/N?” Sam takes my shaking hand. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Coward!

“I— I need some air,” I stammer, pulling my hand back and rushing out of the room.

Sam’s and Ruby’s concerned calls follow me into the hallway but I ignored them and slip my shoes.

I’m just about to open the door when Sam catches up to me. “Wait, where are you going? What is happening?”

I turn around to find her looking at me with worried eyes. Ruby’s not there and I’m assuming it’s because Sam told her to stay behind.

I can’t stay. I just can’t. I need to leave. I need to be alone. I want to go back to the living room and finish the movie, but I can’t.

“Please, not now, Sam,” I beg, my voice cracking. “My mom… my parents…”

Sam’s brows furrow. Then understanding dawns on her and here eyes dart to the phone in my hand. “It’s about next Wednesday, isn’t it?” she asks softly and I nod, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Okay, go, but call me when you get home.”

I close my eyes and exhale a shaky breath. She knows me better than anyone else and in moments like these I couldn’t be more grateful. She knows I need to be alone whenever I get upset about Noah and she respects my space.

“Thank you, say good night to Ruby for me, yeah?” I whisper, bending down to kiss the top of her head.

She nods and watches me pull out of the driveway with a sad smile.

Next Wednesday is the anniversary of Noah’s death. I’ve been so caught up in work lately that I didn’t realize it’s this close already.

God, you’re awful, Y/N? First you get him killed and now you don’t even remember the anniversary of his death?

I drive through the city, just wanting to be home already and curled up in bed, when my eyes spot a sign across the street. Al’s Dive Bar.

I’ve never been one to get drunk, but right now I could use a beer or two, so I switch lanes and make a right turn.

I find a parking spot fairly close to the bar and lock the car once I’ve jumped out. If I drink now I won’t be able to drive home later, but I’m not that far away from my apartment anyway, so I’ll just walk and get the car in the morning before work.

When I enter the bar a sense of deja vu washes over me. Not because I’ve been here before but because it’s so similar to the one Noah and I used to go to with our squad.

The lights are low and it smells like beer, liquor, and sweat. There’s a pool table and a dart board on the other side of them room and the space is filled with booths and standing tables.

It is super crowded which is no surprise because it’s a Friday night, so I start pushing through the crowd toward an empty seat at the bar.

I get a few dirty looks that I skillfully ignore until I’m at the bar. I’m just about to sit down and order a drink when my eyes find familiar green ones across the room.

What is she doing here? She’s supposed to be at home!

Waving the approaching bartender off with an apologetic grimace I make my way to her.

“Ms. Luthor what are you doing here? You are supposed to be at home!” I snap over the loud music and the chatter. There’s no security with her and in such a public place she’s a target.

Taken aback by my directness, Lena’s eyes widen and she stammers uncharacteristically when she says,“ Y/N, I’m- I’m here with my friends. What’s going on? Why are you here?”

I scoff at that, not acknowledging Kara and her other friends who watch the interaction with curiosity. “It’s my day off, I can do whatever I want. You, however, shouldn’t be here without security!”

Under different circumstances I wouldn’t dare speak to her like this, but right now I’m still upset about my mom’s message and the thought of something happening to her when I could have prevented it stokes the guilt already eating away at me.

This time Lena’s no longer at a loss for words. She squares her shoulders and looks up at me with defiance in her eyes. “I suggest you watch your tone, Y/N. I’m still your boss and you can’t speak to me like that.”

“Ms. Luthor,” I start slowly, not deterred by her sternness, “this is a matter of security. You are my boss, yes, but it is my job to keep you safe and what you are doing here is irresponsible and, quite frankly, stupid.”

If she wasn’t angry before, she definitely is now. Her jaw clenches and her eyes narrow dangerously. Kara and the others watch the scene unfold in horrified silence and take a step back, ready for the impending scolding that is about to take place. “Listen, Y/N—“

She doesn’t get to continue because a passerby who I’ve noticed has been eyeing her since we started talking, suddenly stops and grabs her arm harshly. “You’ve got some nerve showing your face here, bitch. You should be rotting in prison right next to your brother!”

Lena visibly deflates, hurt replacing the anger on her face.

I step forward immediately and take hold of the man’s wrist with a bruising grip, forgetting all about the argument. “How dare you speak to her like that?” I spit through gritted teeth. “Now let go, or so help me God.”

He winces and releases her, pulling his wrists out of my grasp. “Or what? Huh? What are you going to do? Can’t the bitch stand up for herself?” he sneers, his venomous eyes flickering back and forth between me and Lena.

This is exactly what I was afraid of.

Fury bubbles in the pit of my stomach and I take another step forward to shield Lena from the man’s view.

Kara and her friends look alarmed and I notice one of them, his name is James I think, trying to get the attention of the bouncer by the entrance.

“She can stand up for herself just fine, but she shouldn’t have to,” I defend, glowering at him. “She has nothing to do with her brother’s actions, so I suggest you keep walking.”

The man barks out a mirthless laugh. “Or what?” he asks again and I take a deep breath to stay calm.

It’s in that moment that I feel a hand on the small of my back. Lena. Whether the gesture is supposed to comfort me or get me to back off, I don’t know, but it does send shivers up my spine.

I glare at the man and say, “Just leave,” before turning away, but then he says something that has me seeing red.

“Coward.”

I spin around in the blink of an eye and shove him hard. “What did you just say to me?!”

He stumbles backward, but regains his footing before falling. The people around us move back so as to not get caught up in the fight.

“Say it again!” I roar. “Go on! Say it!”

The man doesn’t say anything, but he bares his teeth and charges at me. That’s when I remember Lena’s still behind me, her hand now clutching the back of my jacket, so instead of ducking out of the way of his fist, I stay right where I am to make sure he doesn’t accidentally hit her.

The blow lands with a sickening sound and my head snaps back from the force of it. Almost immediately I feel something warm running from my nose and when I wipe at it with the back of my hand I see that it’s blood.

I go to return the punch, my heartbeat loud in my ears, but the grip Lena still has on my jacket stops me. I want to pry her off and tackle the man, but its too late because the bouncer is already taking him down with the help of James.

My hands are trembling and my breaths are shaky and shallow.

I’m not a coward!

A touch on my shoulder makes me flinch and when I whirl around I find Lena looking at me with distress and worry all over her face.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Kara asks softly, appearing next to Lena while the man who caused all of this gets escorted out by the bouncer.

My eyes dart around the room, hating how everyone’s attention is on me. It does nothing to calm my racing heart, as a matter of fact, it’s making it worse.

I feel my throat closing and my lungs burning and before long I do what I always do in situations like this.

I run.

________________________________________________

I haven’t proofread this yet, but I wanted to get it out as soon as possible, so if there’s any mistakes I apologize. I’ll get to it as soon as I can.

Also forgot to mention that everyone’s human in this story, so no Supergirl or aliens.

[fueledbysano]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐋𝐀 with Mikey

Mikey's life in Manila with you ♡

♱ a/n: this is for all the Manila Mikey lovers and Filipino girlies ♡ (belated) Happy birthday to our man ❤️‍🔥

🦇 @hiraethsdesires @sukunassuka @anahryal @half-baked-biscuit @fuyuluvr @iluvizana @saenora

Mikey sat in his tiny apartment in the heart of Manila, looking at the photograph of his late brother on the wall. He had dreamed of this moment for years, ever since his brother told him of the bustling streets, the delicious food, and the warm, tropical islands of the Philippines, his favorite destination. It had taken time, but Mikey was finally here, living in the place of his brother's dreams. And then, the doorbell rang. It was [ Y / N ], the love of his life. “You look beautiful,” he said to [ Y / N ], smiling as he held open the door for her. “Thank you, Mikey,” she smiled. “You look wonderful yourself.” she blushes, eyeing down Mikey’s simple black pants and camisole outfit; layered with a plain white button-up shirt that exposed his toned shoulders.

They usually plan to have a date around Manila, a city that Mikey had only ever imagined. During jeepney rides with Mikey, he would let [ Y / N ] rest her head on his shoulder and hold her hand the entire ride. And on occasions when the wind blows harshly through her hair, he reaches around her shoulder to hold it for her.

Getting street foods and strolling around the park is a regular occurrence in the relationship. Given that everything that Mikey loves is in it; cheap and delicious food to satisfy his sweet tooth, the town, and you! Mikey’s favorite has to be the pink, frozen dessert, Ice scramble and Turon. And on times when he misses the dorayaki and taiyaki back home, he would just take [ Y / N ] to Mitsukoshi Mall, a big Japan-themed mall in the southern part of the Metro.

But Mikey and [ Y / N ]’s favorite place in the city is Intramuros. While it was now mostly a tourist attraction, there was still a sense of history and beauty in the air. They walked through the ancient walls and narrow streets, passing by old churches and museums, each one with a story to tell. Carriages run by horses still strolled the roads of the historic city, making Mikey ang [ Y / N ] excited to be on a date around Intramuros every time.

The two of them climbed into the classic, horse-drawn Kalesa and settled into their soft, leather seats. The driver smiled and called out a greeting in Tagalog, and the couple greeted back. The Kalesa began to move through the quaint streets of Intramuros, and Mikey and [ Y / N ] watched as the city came to life around them in a unique, old-fashioned way.

Mikey never had a deep interest for the fine arts, but when [ Y / N ] asks to visit the National Museum, he couldn’t pass it up. As they walked through the museum, their hands entwined, they felt the weight of history pressing down on them. It was almost as if they were walking through the pages of a history book, each exhibit a new chapter in the story of this incredible country.

After spending some time exploring the museum, they made their way to Fort Santiago, a historic fortification in the heart of Manila. As they walked through the ancient halls, their footsteps echoing with the weight of history, they knew that they were standing on sacred ground.

As they wound their way through the city, they passed by ancient doorways and carved archways, the scent of incense wafting in the air from the nearby churches, and they made a stop on perhaps the most famous one. As they entered the church, the air grew thicker still with the weight of history. The stained glass windows cast colorful rainbows across the floor, and the faint sounds of prayer and song echoed through the ancient halls.

Mikey and [ Y / N ] found a pew near the back and sat down, hands entwined as they looked around. They marveled at the intricate carvings and the ornate altar, feeling like they were in a different world entirely.

As they sat in the dim light of the cathedral, their hands tightly intertwined as they admired the beautiful architecture and the historic artifacts. Mikey couldn't help but feel a deep sense of love and adoration for her, and he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. As they sat there, Mikey leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “I want to marry you here.”

[ Y / N ] stood still, stunned by his sudden confession. But she had always known that Mikey was special, and truly meant what he said. “Mikey,” she whispered back, feeling tears well up in her eyes. “I would love nothing more.”

Mikey and [ Y / N ] return to the Kalesa, watching as the ancient city of Manila passed by. They had had a beautiful day, exploring the National Museum, Fort Santiago, and the San Agustin Church, and now they were ready for one last adventure.

The driver of the Kalesa pulled up to the shores of Manila Bay, and Mikey and [ Y / N ] climbed out, eager to take in the sights and sounds of the ocean. They walked along the coast, watching the waves rock parked yachts and crash against the shore.

The sun was setting, casting a golden glow across the water, and the lights of the city glittered on the horizon. They made their way to the edge of the water, where they found a quiet spot to sit and enjoy the view. They watched as the sun began to sink below the horizon, turning the sky into an endless canvas of red and orange, and the waves crashed against the shore in a steady rhythm.

As they sat there, taking in the beauty of the moment, Mikey leaned in close to [ Y / N ] and whispered, "I want to spend every sunset like this with you. You make me feel like the luckiest man in the world."

[ Y / N ]'s eyes widened in surprise, and she turned to look at Mikey, her heart aching with love and joy. "I feel the same way," she said softly. "I never imagined that I could find love like this, in this place, with you."

As they sat there, hand in hand, surrounded by the beauty of Manila Bay and the magic of the sunset, they knew that they had found something truly special. A love that would last a lifetime, and a lifetime filled with memories of this quaint place that had brought them together.

[lizardlicks]

a thing I noodled up based on @ablueeyedarcher's shifterverse AtLA AU setting. The only needed context is that Zuko's other side is a fire ferret, and Sokka's is a fucking huge wolf.

Ozai hasn't settled into his new.... living arrangements (temporary living arrangements, he keeps forcefully insisting in the privacy of his own mind) for very long. He can't sense the sun the way he used to, can't feel the crawl of time as measured by Agni's looping path, but there is at least enough light that falls through what passes as a window high up on the wall of his cell that he can make a close enough guess. His generous (traitorous) son had the decency to face a Child of Agni to the South. 

It's been a few days at least, maybe even a full week by his estimation, when he's jolted out of sleep by a distinct sound. Keys turning in the lock of his cell door. Ozai sits up, takes a moment to compose himself, smoothing down the plain prison robes he's been dumped into, then rises to meet his loyal subject.

"I was expecting you soon--" his greeting dies on his tongue. Ozai does not find Azula standing in the doorway. Neither is there a general, no dedicated council member or magistrate. Not even a lowly clerk. Instead he's surprised to find the Avatar's obnoxious Watertribe pet. He's leaning against the wall opposite the cell, the door of which stands wide open. The peasant casually flips the key around his fingers as he fixes Ozai with a cold, blank stare.

There's something in his other hand but Ozai can't tell what it is. Metal-- gold, twisted and misshapen. Ozai narrows his eyes. The Watertribe seems content to let him marinate in the uncertainty of their shared silence. Finally Ozai’s mounting intrigue gets the better of his judgment. 

“Did the Avatar send you to taunt me,” he asks.

"No." 

"My son?"

"No."

"Your chief, then."

"Just me.”

He's strangely reticent. A few days ago this boy wouldn't shut up the entire airship flight back to the Fire Nation capital. Now he stands and watches Ozai with an unnerving intensity. There's an open door and a wide gap of freedom between them. Ozai can see that the teen's leg is still well bandaged, though he's not aided by any crutch or cane at the moment. He could bolt and make a bid for freedom easily. This knowledge isn't comforting. Rather, it feels like a trap. He narrows his eyes at the boy and asks, "Why are you here?"

The watertribe answers him by throwing the scrap of metal down onto the floor between them. It lands in the sliver of morning light Agni has painted on the floor, and now Ozai can recognize it for what it is, despite its extremely crushed state: the animal cage that sat on his desk. It had sat on his desk for years and no one questioned it.

"Aang would be really sad if I culled you in your cage like you deserve, so I'm going to give you the fighting chance you never gave him. The way is clear. There's a weapon rack in the guard barracks." The Watertribe's lips peel back from his teeth in what could be called a smile if one was very generous and used the term loosely. Dawn light glints off his large, sharp eye teeth. Ozai feels fear hollowing out his stomach, and adrenaline hits his veins like ice water. "You have a twenty second head start. I suggest you run.”

[beggingwolf]

2 - sidgeno

things you said through your teeth

"I can't allow this," said Jameson.

"Yes you can," said Babcock.

"He's one good hit away from heat. I just ran his levels. They're astronomical. It's incredible he's even lucid. He isn't fit to play."

"Yes I am," Sid lied.

He could smell Babcock from where he sat on the medical table. He didn't particularly care for what he wanted to do with an alpha so close. He didn't think Babcock was attractive at all. Yet, he wanted to part his legs and slouch back onto his palms, like Babcock could see the fleshy thickness of his thighs through his warmup sweats.

"You're not," Jameson said.

Sid's eyes flicked to the doorway, where Steve Yzerman had been standing for the last four minutes, summoned into the middle of the debate. He hadn't said a single word yet, and had just listened as Babcock and Team Canada's doctor went at each other.

"Sid wants to play," Steve finally said, "so Sid's playing. That's the end of it, Carl."

Jameson looked like he'd bit his tongue clean off. He stared at Steve, and then at Sid, clearly at a loss.

"If you get claimed out there, there isn't shit I can do," he finally said. "There isn't shit the nation of Canada can do. We're in Russia right now. We're playing by their rules. If a single one of them decides to put you down on the ice and—"

"We get the picture," Steve said dryly.

Jamesone threw up his hands and blew out of the room. Steve didn't move for him, forcing the doctor to shuffle past. He raised his eyebrows at Babcock, who shook his head wryly.

"Always the hero, Stevie," he muttered. He didn't look at Sid again before he left, which Sid knew was good and also felt instinctively displeased by. Sid was, after all, by far the most interesting thing in the room.

When it was just Sid and Steve, the older omega looked over the younger with a brutal, unimpressed scan.

"You said you were good to go."

"I am," Sid said.

"Then prove it. Get back in the locker room. They dosed you up?"

"Scent suppressors. The, ah, suppository one."

"It's not doing much," Steve told him. "You've got to put the scent collar on too. Don't fucking argue, Sidney, you're already pushing it."

Sid shut his mouth, peeved.

"We're winning that fucking medal. But you need to make sure you're a help on the ice, not a hindrance."

"I won't be."

"You need to make sure," Steve insisted, and he pinned Sid with a stare that was heavier than any look Steve had ever given him. Steve was an intense guy, but he was funny. He liked cracking a joke, and he liked being two steps ahead of you in a conversation, and he was very good at making things uncomfortable, fast, when it served his purposes. Sid had never had it directed at him.

Steve had been an omega in the league long before Sid. It had been worse then, even if it wasn't quite good now. The weight of those years was in his gaze now.

"I'll make sure," Sid said. "I'm not going to be a liability."

"Good," Steve said, abruptly breezy. "Because if you become one, I'm letting whichever Russian picks you off the ice take you. Like a can of beans off the shelf at Loblaw's."

Sid frowned at him. Steve looked back with an expression that held no mockery or frustration or anger. This was just the black-and-white of it all: Sid would either play or he wouldn't. That didn't matter as much to Steve as winning for Canada did.

"Harsh," he finally settled on, trying to make it sound like a joke even though it wasn't. Steve saw through him immediately.

"That was much kinder than I got when I was your age," Steve told him, finally moving out of the door in a clear invitation. Sid slid off the medical table and left a wet patch behind. "I don't say that to be an ass. It just was what it was, and is what it is. I want you play if you can play."

"I want that gold," Sid told him as they headed down the hallway.

"Good," Steve said. "Now keep your pants on and get it done."

-

Steve was one of the first omegas to do it. He was, by far, the most successful omega to ever do it. He'd been Sid's blueprint all the way through childhood, juniors, his rookie year: he kept himself in line, he kept it professional, and he focused on hockey. His meds were carefully doled out to him, and he was a functional hockey player. Steve hadn't even gotten married until he'd hung up his skates. He popped out a few kids for his wife and did the coaching thing, the GM thing, and now he was managing Team Canada. Respected, clean-cut, textbook.

Sid had all that going for him until a gangly alpha tripped over the runner in Nathalie Lemieux's foyer and sent it all to hell.

He and Geno had needed to be separated physically. Sid's collarbone and ear were mauled, bloody from Geno's bite attempt. Sid, in turn, had gouged out such a long strip from Geno's forearm that it had almost needed stitches.

They were taken to the hospital separately. They had been dosed, and then dosed again. Sid was fairly certain they'd given him a horse tranquilizer to stop the heat he'd been triggered into. The next time they'd met, it had been through a glass door at the arena. It had taken the team the better part of a year to be convinced that their new suppressant routines were trustworthy.

The problem, as it turned out, was that Sid wanted to fuck Geno very, very badly even when he wasn't being puppeted by his hormones.

The suppressants had been bad enough. With the language barrier, and the cloying, careful watch the team kept over Sid regarding alphas, it had been death by a thousand cuts. He got to see Malkin, and smell his sweaty, earthy scent, and he needed to pretend like his reaction was normal. He'd been unwilling to compromise his image and his standing with the team.

Then they'd won a Cup, and Geno had slowly come out of his shell, and his English improved by miles, and—most important of all—he kept inching closer to Sid, kept meeting his gaze across the locker room.

They'd finally fucked about it last season. It had been incredible, even outside of heat. It was real, though they hadn't had the discussion about bond marks or mates or what kind of future they envisioned. For now, Sid was still Sid: hockey player and Geno was his teammate. That Sid had a leaky cunt around Geno was incidental unless they were in bed. Or a couch. Or, memorably, the kitchen island at Sid's apartment.

The problem with it wasn't that they didn't talk about it. The problem was that the effectiveness of Sid's suppressants had slowly been changing, and it had been manageable with Geno around to tug him into a hotel room and fuck it away before it became heat. Sid didn't want more of a dose; he liked smelling what little of Geno he could. They could take care of it anyways, and self-sufficiency was always the route Sid chose to take. Their little tryst was theirs, and secret, and well-kept.

His house of cards had begun to crumble when Geno had been sent to Team Russia and Sid to Team Canada, and fraternizing wasn't punished but it wasn't encouraged. For this brief moment, they were rivals. Geno had the weight of his homeland on him, and he took it seriously. Sid, in turn, gave him the space to make his commitment easier and more obvious.

It had all been going swimmingly until he'd begun waking up sweating in his shitty dorm bed. And then his teammates had started sniffing at him.

The solution was simple in theory: Sid had to keep his pants on, his head down, and douse himself with as many scent blockers as the team had. It felt much more difficult when Sid tugged the thick fabric of the scent collar over his head and onto his neck before the final game of the Olympics. It felt like it was strangling him. The emanating odor of nothingness from it was eerie and deeply wrong.

"You stink," Kuni told him summarily in the locker room.

"Croz always stinks," Getzy said as he passed by. "This does help with the scent of, what, desperation?"

"Stuff it," Sid said. He fussed with the stitched edge of the collar; the fabric was thick, like a knee brace. It was going to restrict movement. He hated it.

But when Benn walked by and the corner of Sid's mouth grew wet with saliva, he accepted he had no other choice.

Geno spotted the protective collar the moment Sid stepped onto the ice. His gaze burned into Sid's helmet, and then his back, and then into the side of his head for the anthems and Sid's standard loop around their side of the ice.

Omitting facts to Geno hadn't been lying, Sid reasoned. It had just been a quick-developing situation. He'd handled weird heat stuff before Geno came into his life. He'd deal with it after.

"Why the fuck you playing?" Ovechkin asked him between whistles. "You smell."

Sid and Geno were rarely on the ice against one another, until the second period began and the Russians grew desperate as the ice tipped in Canada's favor.

Sid refused to bend down over the faceoff dot first. He knew what it looked like on a good day. With the way Geno was looking at him now, he very nearly didn't trust him.

Geno stiffly bent over first. Sid followed.

"Sid," Geno whispered, and it distracted Sid enough that the puck as dropped and gone before he could realize it.

Later, along the boards, Geno's stick pressed into Sid's lower back. It was strange, purposeful, instead of Geno's hips.

"The fuck you doing, Sid?"

"I didn't do anything, eh? Don't worry about it. We'll think about it after the tournament."

"Sid, it's like, different here."

"I know, okay? No one's going to try anything," Sid told him. He felt confident in it, too.

That also hadn't technically been a lie, because Sid had believed it in the moment. He'd been wrong to believe it, and that also technically hadn't been his fault. Heat did fucked-up things to a brain, and while SId had been victim to that a few times in his life, he'd been shielded by military-grade suppressants nine-and-a-half times out of ten. He had, by all accounts, done his best.

It just so happened that his best finally wasn't good enough on the ice in Sochi, where a Russian defenseman lost an edge, took him out on his way down, and landed atop him.

It happened very fast, on a level that was more physical than mental. Sid was upright, then he was down, then he was covered by another body, then there was damp heat on his face. He knew what was happening, but not in a way that meant he could resist it. It was all distant and removed. His limbs were heavy. He slowly realized he'd been leaking into his leggings for the entire game.

He knew when Geno ripped the alpha off of him, though, becuase that familiar scent engulfed him fully.

"G," Sid gasped. The world was very small, narrowed down to Geno's huge, scared eyes as he leaned over Sid's body, his hair wild from where his helmet had been torn off.

Geno disappeared from sight then, tucked away against Sid's protected neck. The fabric got tighter as it was tugged up, pressing hard on his Adam's apple as inch by precious inch of Sid's neck was exposed. He was being strangled. He was getting hard from it. Maybe he'd already been hard. Geno's big hand was on his jaw. His mouth was pressed against Sid's cheek, so close to where Sid wanted it. Geno's words hissed out through his teeth, clenched tight like if he opened his jaw, he'd have it around Sid's neck in a second flat.

"Sid, I have to. It's me or it's someone else. Pick."

"Fuck, yeah," Sid wheezed out, and he turned his neck into those clenched teeth, asking for it, just like the first time they'd met.

[hockeyandhrsepwr]

Lucky 🫶

Trevor Zegras x singer!reader

**I really don’t know how I feel about this but whatever**

It's the final concert of your tour and you’re ending in your hometown LA, in the venue you used to dream about playing in. Now here you are, at 22 closing out a national tour at the Staples Centre. 

“Hi everyone! Thank for coming out tonight! Before I let you all go, I have one more thing I want to share with all of you. It’s always special to play in for my hometown crowd, so it feels like the perfect occasion to give you a taste something I’ve been working on. It’s been hard to put this into words, so I hope you enjoy!” 

You start strumming your guitar 

Do you hear me, I'm talking to you

He’s somewhere in the arena, and you know he’s enjoying himself. You’ve never told him, but you feel so incredibly lucky to have fallen in love with your best friend, Trevor. 

Across the water across the deep blue ocean

Under the open sky, oh my, baby I'm trying

Long tours and hockey road trips meant the two of you spent lots of time apart, but your connection with Trevor never died down. On nights when you were feeling lonely you’d go outside & stare at the moon, knowing he’d be looking at the same one. It always made you feel better.

Boy, I hear you in my dreams

I feel your whisper across the sea

I keep you with me in my heart

Your last birthday before you started dating, Trevor had given you a little heart locket. Jokingly, he put a picture of himself in there, along with one that the two of you had taken when you were hanging out. Despite it being a joke, you never took the picture out, liking that you had your best friend with you wherever you were. Then he kissed you three months later. 

You make it easier when life gets hard

No matter where you were or what happened, Trevor was there for you. Late night calls when you were stressed, hyping you up on social media, talking you off a ledge when you hated everything you’d ever written, he was the one you turned to.  

Lucky I'm in love with my best friend

Meeting at 18 out in LA when he was visiting Anaheim, you formed a close friendship with Trevor, bonding over your love of Taylor Swift and hockey. Keeping in constant contact while he was in Boston, you quickly found the golden retriever boy becoming one of your closest friends, the quy you could talk to about anything. When he moved to Anaheim you spent days together, at the beach, discovering Orange County and talking about everything and nothing. The friendship only grew with all the time you spent together & so did your feelings for each other. 

Lucky to have been where I have been

Lucky to be coming home again

Trevor had felt like home to you since you’d met, but you’d never understood why. He’d always made you feel safe and loved and he knows you like no one else does. Living on the road often left you feeling homesick and lost, but that feeling went away the minute you were back in his arms

Ooohh ooooh oooh oooh ooh ooh ooh ooh

They don't know how long it takes

Waiting for a love like this

You and Trevor had been there for each other through all kinds of heartbreak. When your first boyfriend brutally dumped you at 19 because you ‘weren’t getting famous quick enough for him’, Trev was the one who showed up at your door with a pint of ice cream and a promise to kill the guy if he ever saw him around. You managed to talk him down though, no murder here. When he found who he thought was the one but was really just a clout chasing bitch who saw his star and used him, you reassured him that it wasn’t his fault. And you nearly slapped the bitch when she was coming on to one of the other Ducks players out one night. 

Needless to say, it took the two of you a while to realize that what you were looking for was right in front of you all along. 

Every time we say goodbye

I wish we had one more kiss

“Babe I have to go!!” Trevors standing in the doorway to the hotel room. You’re both in New York, and if you stayed at the same hotel as the Ducks, who’s to say it wasn’t a coincidence. You’re currently on the bed pouting. 

“What did you forget?”

“I dont know! I have my wallet & tie. I’m gonna be late. Love you” He goes to exit the room when it clicks & he comes bouncing over and smacks a kiss on your lips

“I’m sorry?” He grins before standing up. You pull him down by his tie “one more kiss” he drops one more on your lips before moving away,

“Now I’m really going to be late!”

“Sorry” you shrug 

I'll wait for you, I promise you, I will

You dont have to see Trevor to know the smile that’s on his face. Normally he’s your sounding board for new songs, but you wanted to surprise him with this one, even if it exposed your relationship. It was widely known that you were best friends, but only those close to you knew about the shift to dating over a year ago. Fans are going wild at the song & you see your stage manager pulling someone into the wings. Trevor. You smile as you sing the final line

Lucky I'm in love with my best friend

“There’s a little taste, I hope you enjoyed it! Good night Los Angeles!” You exit the stage to thunderous applause and get pulled into a hug. 

“You’re sneaky” Trevor jokes and drops a kiss to you nose

“You know you love me” you retort

“I really do” You smile at his response, soaking the night in. 

xxx

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Castaway AU, The End (for now?)

Seven months later finds Kara ensconced on Lena and James' couch, in a living festooned with garlands and holiday lights. The christmas tree in the corner is opulently aglow, with piles of presents heaped beneath it. The air inside the house hums with warm cheer, which spreads throughout Kara's body along with the buzz of mulled wine.

"Aunt Kara!"

A small body jumps into her lap, causing Kara to give a playful OOF before capturing her niece in a fierce hug. "Mia!"

Mia squeals when Kara's fingers dig into her sides with a persistent tickle, but doesn't make any move to escape. After a moment, Kara spots a smear of white sugary icing on the girl's cheek.

"And what is that, huh?"

"Icing! For the cookies. Here!" Mia breaks off a corner of the cookie in her hand, somehow intact through the ticklish exchange. "Mommy says--"

"Mommy says you better get back in there," Lena says, appearing in the living room doorway. "Or else your brothers are going to decorate all the cookies without you."

"No!" Mia gasps. She scrambles off of Kara's lap and dashes off to the kitchen.

Lena takes advantage of Kara's newly unoccupied state to collapse onto the couch next to her, wine glass in hand. She leans against Kara's side, resting her head on her shoulder. "Oof is right."

Turning her chin, Kara lightly kisses the crown of Lena's head. "You're amazing at this, you know."

Lena hums an acknowledgement. Kara knows that Lena doesn't need her to affirm her success as a mother, but Kara does so anyway.

She's always known Lena to be brimming with love just itching to be given. It follows that she'd love her children unabashedly, and guide them into the type of person she herself is-- proud and kind and compassionate.

Still, Kara can't help but notice the ease with which Lena capably wrangles three rambunctious kids with love and empathy.

Moving her wine glass to her other hand, Lena pats her way across Kara's lap until she finds Kara's hand, and loosely tangles their fingers together.

"I'm glad you're here," Lena sighs comfortably.

Kara smiles. "Me too."

Kara has her own apartment in the city, in a neighborhood not unlike her loft on Hope Street. She's considered returning to National City as well, but her heart keeps her in Metropolis, close to Lena and far away from the hero's identity she's left behind. Here, a home has formed around her, filling her with all the love and life she'd lost in the phantom zone.

At a rustle of movement in the doorway, Kara looks up to find James gazing at them with affection warm in his features. She gives him a slow, sleepy blink, and smiles again when he gives a silent nod.

The first weeks of Kara in Metropolis had been slightly awkward. Kara's need to reconnect with Lena had conflicted with her desire not to infringe upon her life with James and her children. Before long, however, she'd been somehow absorbed by their family, leaving her and James not rivals, but instead partners in being precious to Lena's heart.

Soon, the house would fill with even more people, having somehow become the hub for their friends and family to congregate. But for now, Kara simply cherishes the quiet moment around her, and feels as though she's finally, FINALLY, come home.

[zeveth]

( @4o77th asked: what do you want me to do, fetch your slippers for you? (klinger)

"well, it wouldn't hurt!" she spits, hobbling on one foot and yanking off a mud-soaked boot. a slew of gravel and water streams from the heel when she tips it. "normally i'd never have to come here in the first place!"

[unhinged-summer-fun]

burning flames or paradise

Written for Danktober 2022 Day 05: Heartbeat, Flame, National Do Something Nice Day. Go do something nice!

Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Summary: The mysterious man who'd taken up residence in the old forge had been drawing the interest of your abilities for some time now. But why?

Warnings: none.

Word Count: 3069

A/N: Soulmates make my knees weak.

[full danktober list here]

"I don't know about that one, girl. Seems awful bad news to me." You only idly listened as the old crone spoke, eyes staying fixed on the old forge. Someone had bought the place from that old crook Kieran, and was fixing it up little by little. There'd only ever been glimpses of this mysterious new owner, but today he was walking around the market doing his shopping like everyone else.

You recognized him from when he'd first come into town, camping on the outskirts several days before the first snowfall. You'd been returning from a long walk gathering herbs in the woods, and had briefly shared the doorway to the tavern with the man while you sought supper. The moment had been brief and sharp in its sudden bite at your attention, but you'd felt no fear the way you had with other men who rode through town. All the tension surrounding his arrival had broken when the barmaid mentioned seeing Kieran ride determinedly out of town, whistling gaily atop the horse the newcomer had come in on.

It was nearly deadwinter, now. He was still quite dour, that much was clear even from a distance. You knew where the old woman's concern came from, implying that the ill intents of man would sometimes hide themselves in plain sight, but your experience told you that it was safer to operate with the belief that the wicked would go to any extent to hide their nature. Many a wolf in your life had hidden beneath the mannered trappings of wool.

You wondered what this man was hiding, if his surly appearance was anything to go off of.

"Just the two today, thanks," you said softly, paying for your usual rashers of bacon. Before you could escape her entirely, she called out to warn you of the coming snow and you went on your way. You didn't need to hear any more of her foreboding suspicions. You had enough of that on your own.

Your shopping was finished after that, so you let yourself indulge a bit in just watching the people in the square. Unfortunately, you could no longer see the mysterious man anymore, and you sighed in disappointment, feeling silly a moment later. At least he's coming out into town at all. Can't expect too much from someone you didn't--

"Perdóneme, dama." You looked up into those eyes you'd been so enchanted by the first time you saw them.

Then, straddling the threshold facing him head-on, he'd glared at you for the crime of looking at him, and though his personality screamed ice, there was a hidden heat in his eyes you couldn't look away from. It felt... not familiar, but almost lonely. Not the heat of a wildfire or a cooking fire, but that of a small campfire, just to keep company by. Perhaps this was why he took over the forge, to have a piece of something warm and alive that only lived as long as you let it. You thought he somehow felt that you could see that, and rushed away into the night.

"That's alright," you said in a rush, catching your breath after a few long seconds of stunned silence. You feared he could hear your heart beating like a drum in your chest. You still were unafraid of him, only surprised to see him so close in much the same way as the first time, mere moments after he'd crossed your mind.

He looked like he wanted to say more. Instead, just like the first time as well, he grunted some pardon and continued on his way, leaving you to yours.

You thought of the exchange the rest of the day.

❖

His name was Tovar, the barmaid said that evening over supper. "Comes in to eat twice a day. Hardly says a word. Just pays for a plate and eats right over there by himself. Didn't come in this evening, though." You were only half-listening, imagining the kind of life this man--Tovar--must lead to stick to such a routine each day.

"He spoke in a different tongue when I saw him last," you said distractedly, trying to see what she knew but giving the air of politely continuing conversation. It had worked well in the city, and triply so out here, where conversation was so rarely satisfying to the soul.

"Aye, my Jan believe him a Spaniard. He passed by when he was making the shit deal with Kieran for the forge. You know it?"

"The deal?"

"No, but it was shit, though." You've said. "The tongue. Spainish."

"I don't," you admitted. But I do know that's not the name.

The barmaid just rose her eyes in mirth, leaning in to talk to you. "I'm sure he'd love to teach you. Seems right personable to be around, fine company." She teased, but you frowned behind your nervous laugh. The man wasn't here to defend himself, and you didn't like the idea of his homeland being something to pick fun over.

"I've got to get back. I'll see you."

"Get home safe. With the wind being as it is, only a fool would dawdle."

You left the tavern, pulling your shawl over your shoulders a bit tighter. She wasn't wrong, it would snow, but not until you got home.

❖

Your divine sense had warned you of the weather that morning, in a much more insistent way than it normally did. These portents typically came when your life needed them most, like a crack of lightning striking the well just before you normally would fetch water, or forewarning of a terrifying beast coming on a rampage through town. Occasionally, they were simpler things, calmer. Urges to walk in the woods, to take this turn and catch the light of a rainbow in the sky, or the passage of a family of deer. They cautioned you over food threatening to rot, sick individuals to avoid. Sometimes, they would hint about a new friend arriving to town.

In the case of Tovar, your sense had given you none of the warnings you were familiar with, only a deep interest surrounding the man. This, of course, sparked your curiosity and intrigued you even more than a newcomer to the village already would have. Even now several weeks after his arrival, the sense surrounding the snowstorm felt just as deeply meaningful, intense and vague toward you in the way Tovar himself had been, and you found yourself taking a fools' route back to your home, walking by the forge to see what you could make of it.

The cold nipped at your nose, prompting you to pull the shawl over your head and face to protect from the icy wind. The forge was dark and quiet when you approached. The last few days, you knew he had been working on cleaning the flue to the forge itself, the last and darkest task before the lighting of that blazing hearthflame. It was extremely foolish to attempt this with winter approaching so quickly, but despite this, he asked nobody for help, and nobody offered it.

The door swung open easily when you pressed on it, confirming your suspicions. The entire place was like ice, still and unsettling. "Hello?" you called. "Tovar?" The name felt unfamiliar on your tongue, but not unpleasant. Silence chilled and shook your composure more than the temperature, until you heard movement approach.

The man filled the doorway to the back room the way a damned door should. He was shadowed almost completely, but not enough to hide his shivering. He made a questioning noise of you and you became aware that you didn't quite know why you were here, only that you should have been.

"I... it's going to snow soon, do you have a fire?" It seemed polite enough to ask.

He scowled. "The previous forgemaster, he..." he waved at the darkened hearth and made a sound of disgust. "There is mold in the firewood pile he sold to me. Rats have eaten at the bellows. The trough holds more cracks than water. It is all useless." He huffed a frustrated breath, the air clouding before his face in the scant light.

"That's terrible, and you must be so cold," you said, eyebrows raising expectantly. If you were to leave now, you had no way of ensuring he would survive the night.

"Quite." Apparently, Tovar had run out of ideas, for a desperate man would have disclosed even one, here. He looked down and away, like this icy fate was meant for him, and he welcomed it like the judgment of heaven, knowing his destination anyway. Your mouth moved for you.

"Stay with me this night."

"What?" he said, looking up in suspicion.

You doubled down. "It's likely you'll be snowed in by morning. If you have no fire, you won't be found until spring. Stay with me, at my house."

He warred with himself over your offer. Were kindnesses proffered so rare in his life that he had to test each for poison? Your sense gave a gentle nudge of both confirmation and approval, and you felt yourself buckle down into your decision, ready to drag this man by the ear to your home if you needed to. He saw you set your jaw and sighed.

"Fine. Just until daybreak. Then I'm going to the wood to chop a tree." He disappeared behind the wall, presumably to grab his things. In a lull of the wind, you could hear him say, "...so I don't chop that man's head off myself." It made you smile, which you covered with your shawl when you heard him return. "I am ready."

"Let's hurry."

❖

The snow fell in earnest by the time you crossed the threshold to your small cottage. The small collection of walls and roofing had been handed down to you from some old dead relative who never even lived here, and you'd jumped at the chance to move away from the bustle of the city to someplace quieter, somewhere you could hear yourself think for the first time in a long while. In the city, the divine warnings had come several times a day, leaving you in a constant state of anxiety. You lived your life as if it was something to survive rather than enjoy.

Your fire built up quickly, the wood dry and healthy. When it reached its peak, you turned to look at Tovar, seeing him standing far away from you, like you would scream for help if he approached. "Come closer, you're trembling," you said gently, welcoming him toward the warming hearthstone.

It took a long, frozen moment, but he took one cautious step forward, then another, until he fell to his knees before the fire and held his hands close enough to the flames to alarm you somewhat. But he must have had no fear of fire, to choose to work a forge. "I can repay you for this," he said in a solemn tone, an air of vows and repentance about him. "I am in your debt."

"Enough of that," you muttered, shaking your head and removing your shawl to replace it with a warmer blanket off your bed. You threw the other blanket at his head. "Hasn't anyone done something nice for you just to do it? No expectations or repayment?"

He scowled at you when he pulled the blanket off his head. "No." The fabric had mussed at his hair a little, and with the snow having melted into the black locks, he looked properly disheveled. "Nobody."

You were astonished by his conviction. It must have shown enough to affect him, because he attempted to explain.

"I am... I am not a good man. I did... wicked things for money and war-glory for many years. Most of my life, in fact. You should not trust me."

"You were a mercenary," you translated.

"I was."

"You're a blacksmith now."

"Fine job of one, no?" he sighed, looking down and away.

Instincts spoke. "You've never done a wicked thing to me, nor anybody in the village. We've needed a forgeworker for a long time, and Kieran would never sell the place to anyone in town. Why wouldn't I trust you? You've given me no reason not to."

"My soul is damned, dama," he whispered, pleading with you to understand that which you refused to see.

"Yet you remain alive."

"A penance," he grumbled. "Do not trick me with riddles."

"You're very determined to live an unhappy life, aren't you?" you said with a laugh, standing and going for a small cellar and pulling out a loaf of bread you'd made that morning.

You jumped slightly when you turned and came face-to-face with the man again for a third time. Tovar was very clearly trying to intimidate you into changing your mind about him. Few had succeeded in scaring you off, though, and they'd tried everything to get you back. You looked up at him and saw the fire in your hearth reflected in his eyes, hot and full of depth you were sure you weren't imagining.

He looked just as he did when you first saw him, outwardly angry but unable to control the loneliness inside of him. He looked as he did the second time, confused and curious about you in the way you assumed wolves wondered if they could eat a new kind of prey. This third time, he looked mostly as though he had given up trying to hide himself from you. He expressed discomfort in being praised and assured, and frustrated at the self-imposed denial of his wishes to seek answers of you. He was never going to speak without you making the first move.

"Yes, you're very scary, Tovar. But are you hungry?"

He pulled a face of confusion and hardly moved as you walked past his large frame. If he didn't join you at the table a moment later, you would have wondered if the fire had proved useless and he'd actually frozen in place. He looked at you with a peering interest, eyes squinted at you like you were a puzzle he wanted to figure out. It made your heart skip a little to have such attention on you. You wanted him to know you, to solve you and enjoy mixing you up again.

"Here." You pulled off a piece of bread for him and took another for yourself. "There's more in the pantry you can help yourself to. "Romina said you weren't there for supper this evening."

"I've been struggling with the situation in the forge since midmorning." He sighed in frustration.

"Keeping a good forge running is basically a one-man job. Even in the cities, it takes a team of men to start one up."

"You've lived in cities?"

You looked away. "For a time. I've been on my own for quite awhile. Out here problems seemed smaller. Mistakenly, I believed myself to be the only harbinger of my own luck. I was dissuaded of that notion fairly quickly. If you would accept any help, I can offer it."

"That is doubtful," he said with a scoff.

What gall.

You quirked an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Doubtful that I would accept it, not that you would offer. You offer help very... forcefully."

You laughed. "That's a word for it. Why would you doubt yourself? You've accepted my help once already." You motioned to his place before you.

The longer you talked in front of the fire, the more comfortable he grew, watching you describe your stories with a sort of tentative amusement. You told him stories of the city, your first years out here in this nameless village in a nameless land. How you thought, at one point, you would have to shed your own name just to prevent drawing attention.

Throughout it all, his eyes sparkled like the spitting fire sucked up the chimney, but the most he offered by way of humor were scoffs, sarcasm, and a face full of expressions to convey what he thought. You wondered when he'd laughed last, or if it had ever been something he'd done.

"I lied to you earlier," he said later on. You were dozing off in your chair as the wind howled and shrieked past the glass of the windowpanes. His proclamation came extremely close and quite suddenly, the way he seemed most comfortable around you. Were it any other, you would have filled with dread, but instead you were intrigued. When he didn't continue, you sat up straighter, gave him your full attention.

"There was someone I knew who did things for me without expectation. Kindnesses. They always felt misplaced. The company we kept was consistently that of liars and cheats and bad men. To have somebody... To know that he... His loyalty to me was... I did not understand it. I still do not understand him."

He looked troubled, recalling his time with his friend. It sounded like they were the only friend Tovar had who was worth awarding that title. You wondered briefly of the fate this friend suffered, whether they rested eternal or just somewhere else. It mattered not to Tovar. Their absence was as simple as death.

"Some friends just are."

"Are what?"

"Friends."

"Yes, some friends just are what?"

"Some friends are just... They're just friends to you. That's what friends do, what friendly people do. They choose to be nice to you because that's what they want to be. It's for no reason or holiday or ulterior motivation. It's for no promise of repayment or currying favor with the almighty, it's because they take pleasure in doing kind things."

He looked bewildered, and you expected some incredibly insulting, yet grateful thing to come out of his mouth next.

You were right.

"You are very strange."

"Thank you," you smiled. "I prefer the word friendly."

"Strange, and friendly." The barest hint of a smile crept across his lips, before disappearing again. "Thank you."

"For being strange and friendly?"

"Yes."

"I'll tell you a secret, Tovar." You leaned in a little, beckoning him closer. He rolled his eyes and leaned in when you didn't continue instantly. "I think you're pretty strange and friendly, too."

He looked surprised, a look that only intensified when he laughed aloud. Quite suddenly, though beyond your awareness, the storm outside felt just a little further away.

[hearttsck]

April 28, 2024

“Mom’s dying.”

Her sister doesn’t bother with hello, and Poppy regrets answering the phone. There are far too many secrets between them to bother with such formalities, she supposes, but far better ways to announce such news. Yet here she is, in the back of an Uber amidst DC rush hour traffic, learning about her mother’s impending doom.

“What do you mean dying?” Her voice is cool, typical pragmatic Poppy. Her mother’s been dying for years now, even after all that they did to save her – the woman still insists on straddling the line between life and death. “Like she’s got moments left and you’re about to put me on speaker so I can say something moderately profound dying? Or the way she’s been dying for years? What’s the point in calling if it's not ‘get on a plane’ kind of dying? Like what else do you want me to do?”

“Get on a plane.”

Fuck. She’s reached her destination and sees her daughter waiting excitedly, hand in hand with Poppy’s current partner.

“Fine, we will be on the first flight out tomorrow.” Her sister starts to protest but Poppy cuts her off. “Look, it's already so late and I’m literally walking into the Kennedy Center, Tillie’s been talking about seeing this show for ages. We will get on the very first flight out tomorrow, I promise. I love you, have to go – bye!”

Later, when Ottilie is long asleep, dreaming of ballerinas and fairies – Poppy breaks up with the woman she might have grown to love and goes to bed alone. Their flight leaves from National at 9am, and she’s packed them both enough for two weeks. She refuses to stay there any longer, lest her daughter get sucked in the way everyone else seems to be. Perhaps the only way out is through blood, but she’s already paid that toll...

“Mommy.”

She jerks awake, the room as cold as ice. Her daughter stands in the doorway, illuminated by the hall lights she swore she turned off. Poppy shifts in the bed to make room for her child, half asleep. “What’s wrong, my love?”

“Grandma’s in my room.”

“What?” She’s fully awake now, sitting up in her bed and flicking on the lamp. “Oh darling, come here.” Poppy reaches out as her daughter climbs into bed and pulls the covers over her head. “We are going to see grandma tomorrow, getting on the plane bright and early. Were you dreaming about her maybe?”

“No,” it's muffled, Ottilie shifts the covers such that only her eyes peek out. “She’s right there, she said you won’t come home until she’s gone.” Poppy shudders violently, then wraps her arms around her daughter, intentionally not looking towards the corners of the room. She’s lived with ghosts as long as she can remember, deliberately avoiding and ignoring them when she could – and downright refusing to accept what she saw otherwise. Under the covers, they are safe as long as Ottilie believes it. And so Poppy lets her phone buzz and buzz until her daughter is sound asleep.

The usual ghosts lurk in her peripherals as she finally glances at her phone. 3:47 am – 19 missed calls, 21 missed texts. ‘She’s gone.’ is the only one she registers. Poppy blinks back silent tears, and her father’s ghost is in the same corner he always haunts. He bows his head in sorrow, and she closes her eyes in shame.

Poppy does not tell Ottilie about her grandmother’s death until they land in Ohio the next morning. Ghosts should stay where they belong, she rationalizes, as if that’s ever made a difference. Maybe she just wants to alleviate the sickening feeling in her gut as she drives her daughter into Helltown.

[perpetualpaige]

To my husband:

You may never see this, but it's true nonetheless.

I've found the person who sees me and wants me to be the best version of myself. I've found a man who wants to watch anime with me and listen to sad music. You play video games with me and taught me Dungeons and Dragons. You are raising our children with me. You want to go hiking and see God's creation with me. You get in the moshpit with me at concerts, and you wash my hair for me in the shower. You stand up for me when I get my feelings hurt, and you take over doing the dishes if I feel burnt out. You told me if I wanted to work, we would make it work, and if I wanted to stay home with the children, we would make it work. My nanny got sick, and you put our house up for sale and moved us in with her. You are selfless, loving, determined, and very much appreciated.

You are my knight in shining armor, and the love of my life.

I want the world to know.

But, I also don't. So, I'm writing it here.

I love you with all my heart, ever since that day we got ice cream and walked down a creek in August. I fell in, and you helped me scrub my khakis because I had to go into work right after.

You leaned in to kiss me through the doorway of your Jeep, and got cold feet. You jumped back and mentioned how you put your wet socks in your pocket, and took them out.

But I couldn't get my mind off of you. And that night, after leaving work, I met you at the national park to look at the stars and kiss you for the first time.

I try to remember that first time every time I kiss you. I keeps the butterflies happy.

We were married less than a year later.

And here I am, almost 5 years later, still so in love with you, our family, and this life we are building.

Thank you, Logan. I love you.

[dmagedgoods]

Zinnia?

It's finally time to answer the flower prompts. I combined the three I got into a small story, each with its own chapter. 🌷🌸🌺 22. zinnia - remembrance for those gone ~ Funeral Flowers – Part I (to Part II) (to Part III) “And therefore, we are not only bidding our farewell today, but we are also celebrating a life full of unequaled accomplishments, a life lived to achieve goodness and righteousness for our glorious nation.” Iomedae’s cleric fell quiet and instead, a chant swelled with heavenly force until it filled the spacious square, the pillared temple straight ahead, and the high building flanking it where they stood and followed the speech and deferential presentations. The choir’s voices were bright and jubilant despite the wistful melody and as clear as singing from the outer planes. The stony eyes of the goddess watched in silence and serenity and so did he, his expression as cold and unreadable as the face of Iomedae’s statue below the gallery of the city hall. Daeran had made true to his threat to spend the day in unbothered merriment and to only show some decency with the gowns he wore, his perfectly tailored coat with the silken shirt, straight-cut pants, and waist-long cape all black and adorned in subtle elegance. It was only now that his act crumbled, the cracks in his performance allowed a glimpse of what lay underneath: The deep pain and loss. Salvadore felt something inside of him grow even harder, even colder, like a chunk of ice filling his chest, displacing every warmth and hope. Carefully, he reached for Daeran’s hand, but he withdrew from his touch. Instead, a mocking smirk appeared on his lips, emotionless and cruel, more a grimace than a smile. “Oh please,” he snorted. “Don’t tell me you expect me to fall for this gaudy presentation because they invited a group of children with pretty voices.” He had spoken loudly enough for others at the gallery to hear. Glances were sent his way, some offended, some even genuinely hurt. Salvadore tensed. A rush of anger mixed with his fear and suffering. Before he got the chance for a sharp reply, Daeran stepped back from the balustrade. “Excuse me.” With his, he turned around and left through the arched doorway leading into the building. Salvadore didn’t even find the words to phrase a diplomatic apology to elicit leniency for the Count’s behavior from those around him. This was his fault, all of it. Every guest, every resident, every observer, they all suspected, rightfully, that he would raise a claim to the throne. But none of them was even able to imagine that the celestial Commander of the Fifth Crusade, conqueror of the worldwound, Primarch of the Wounded Lands, was the one responsible for their beloved queen’s death. No. She had picked her own fate with her decision to send him to the Abyss, to give in to her jealousy, to march to Iz during his absence, badly prepared after she had managed to destroy all his efforts of the last year within a few months’ time and eventually stand there with barely anything to use against Deskari and his hordes. He hadn’t had a choice but to save the people first, to preserve the knowledge needed for the goal they had shared. The risk she had taken, the duty to hold out, it was the price of rulership. And you hoped and even knew that she would fail and die, the malicious voice in the back of his mind replied, a throne in a destroyed land would never have been enough for you. You wanted Mendev and her death would pave the way for you. And there it is, in the palm of your hand. Salvadore straightened his posture, burying those thoughts deep within. This wasn’t the time. Now more than ever, those people needed his guidance and strength. He wouldn’t waver but stay true to the responsibility he had chosen, true to his way, like Galfrey had stayed true to hers.

[persephone11110]

The Princess And The Rooster Chapter 02

Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: major character death(Ice), grief, sadness, slight talking, physical abuse, Bradley is a dick

–

San Diego, California -2019

Kiddo, I’m sorry”

She dreadfully listens to father on the phone as he tells her Uncle Ice has died.

Tom“Iceman”Kazansky was now apart of the dead. No longer a living human, no longer here on earth.

She knew it was coming, death was inevitable when you had cancer.

Death seemed to love ripping people away from her, always making it way back to people Percy loved.

-

Percy remembered back her conversation with Uncle Ice.

Percy hand was shaky as she ran her hand over the scar. Tear drops slide down her face, she was marked by him, by anger and almost death.

She was broken, ugly, to never be touched by a man again.

A makeup palette was discarded next to her on her bed. Millions of attempts were made to cover it up , the reminder she almost died by him, by the man who beat her relentlessly and was the father of their one year old daughter Olympia.

A voice appeared in her doorway. She jumped out of habit, expecting a item to thrown at or a speech of degradation.

She was no longer legally bound to that man. Percy was safe, Ollie was safe most importantly.

She didn’t have to get up at 2am cooking dinner, go on beer runs for him anymore.

“How ya doing sunshine?” his voice was gentle, a tone Percy hadn’t heard in awhile.

The bed sinks, as Ice sits down next to her. The sobs got louder-making it hard to talk, to talk about her pain.

Her head was buried in his chest, embracing Ice’s warmth and protective hug.

“The scar doesn’t define you, that scar shows how much of warrior you are” Ice says to Percy leaning down to kiss her head.

“B-but Uncle Ice I’m no Annie Greyson” Percy says“I’m not Annie Greyson, not a Marilyn Monroe” Her voice is wobbly as she speaks.

Annie Greyson haven’t heard that name in awhile, the woman was Bradley’s girlfriend before he left. The woman was gorgeous and had a high paying corporate job.

“Sweetheart what does these women have to do with you?”

Percy shrugged.

“I’m not them and never will be, I’m a monster ”

“Peresephone Katherine Mitchell”

Percy looks at him surprised. Well damn

“What…when Ollie gets older you’ll understand the use of how much a full name being used means”

“Look at them and then look at me, I’m a mom with stretch marks, and this ugly ass scar, and self confidence issues lower than hell while also having a kid… I am not the kind of woman men stop in the street and stare at I’m the kind where men run away from—”

NOPE NOT DOING THIS SHIT.

He releases her from hug–standing up and then kneeling infront of her, holding her hand.

Ice gently runs his hand over the scar. He kisses her cheek.

“Bull..shit” he says looking into her eyes, making sure he has her full attention. “I’ve never heard of someone say so much bullshit in my life before and I’ve known Sli and Maverick for how long?”

You know he’ll love you thick through thin.

Percy lets out a wet chuckle, before wiping her tears— that bastard didn’t deserve her tears.

“Ma….Ma” her voice getting louder as she got closer.

Olympia Margaret Mitchell, her little girl, the reason why she fought so hard to get out.

Her dad was there holding Ollie“Hey kiddo, I tried soothing her but I don’t have what she wants”

Percy laughed at her dad antics, lead it to her Uncle Ice and dad to cheer up.

“Come here Ollie-Girl, come to mama” Percy opened her hands up to Ollie, surely enough she went easily into her mother’s embrace knowing it was safe there.

A mother’s job is to protect her child.

-

Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery—San Diego, California 2019

“Commander Mitchell, Ma’am there ready for your eulogy”

“Thank you, tell them I’m ready” She wiped her tears. Pushing the memory to back of her mind, pushing her emotions away.

The Navy needs Ambush, not Percy.

Percy stood at the podium, scanning the area before speaking– Uncle Ice always told her to get look of the audience before speaking, get the vibe of the room.

“Admiral Thomas“Iceman” Kazansky, A man, a father, a husband and one of the best naval aviators of history, the man was Ice-cold outside yet took great pride in helping others always going the extra mile for the others has passed away, but his legacy hasn’t. We may have lost him, but his legacy and story haven’t gone and never will”

She raised her hand, saluting to him. Goodbye Uncle Ice, I hope your okay up there with Uncle Ice and Aunt Carole.

I love you.

Percy watched as her dad punches Uncle Ice’s wings into his casket.

See you again.

-

She was standing in her office, looking at a picture of Ollie holding it close to her chest.

Death can take anyone from you, loved one, your enemy.

A knock made her almost drop the picture.

“Commander Mitchell, Vice Admiral Simpson is ready for you”

“Thank you Loot”, Percy walked to the office, her shoes making little no sounds as she approached.

She moved to knock on the door, making sounds that she was here“Come in Mitchell” Cyclone voice called out.

“Admiral Simpson, Bates”

“Have a seat Mitchell” Cyclone gestures to the seat infront of his desk.

“Sirs, may I ask what is the problem?”

“Well Commander, you and I both know your best of the best, always accomplishing the mission, never leaving anyone hanging.

“Sir?”

“I know you’ve heard of rumors of the impossible mission, well I need instructors”, he looked at her with a knowing look. “I have one instructor but, I need someone to contradict the other instructor, someone who flys just as ice-cold as Admiral Kazanksy”.

“You”

Percy flicked her eyes to Warlock in surprise. He smiled warmly at her.

“Commander, just this year you’ve flown five missions each one successful”

“What I’m saying is Mitchell, this mission needs your unique skill-set, your only with these skills”

“I accept sir, not because of an order, but because this country needs me” She replied with confidence something she was slowly getting back each day.

“Thank you Commander” both men nodded as she saluted before walking out the office.

Percy couldn’t believe it, she was chosen as one of the instructors.

Both Admirals's believed she could do it, knowing how Cyclone and Warlock operate, she knew this was serious and they practically needed all hands on deck.

Explains why so many aviators were in the bar that night, Percy wondered if Bradley was picked. What if dad was picked also?

Percy just buried an Uncle she doesn't want to have to bury her dad or an old friend.

She wondered who the other one was.

“Hey dad, Percy was enculfged by her dad and Ollie was wrapped around her leg.

“Looks like you guys missed me” she teased softly, her father kissing her cheek.

“Dad, you know about the uranium mission?”, Percy asked her father, watching his smile drop and his face going pale.

One Mitchell is enough havoc but two?.

-

Miramar California-2019

She saluted to guard as she walked on to base.

“Attention on deck!”

Warlock approached the students as they remained at attention, his eyes roamed the room like a predator picking out its prey. Eyeing each student in front of him.

“Morning students, Welcome to special training detachment—be seated” they all sat down in sync, all of them thinking about why they’ve been called back.

Each one of them already competing to be number one.

I’m Admiral Bates callsign Warlock, Your all top gun graduates the best there is, the elite each one of you have a special skill set to bring to the mission, yet only one of you will be team leader” he spoke to the daggers squad. “This mission needs to be successful, no room for error, no room for ego, just room for success”

“Half of you will stay, half of you will be cut”

Is that why they both picked me as an instructor, would I be to good, to be cut?

Anyone is replaceable, anyone can be number one.

“There is two instructors, one is known for his legendary exploits and he’s considered one of the pilots the top gun program ever produced. He flying is considered dangerous yet remarkable and effective”

“Your godfather …Iceman is only reason why your father is still here. Keep him tame please Commander, the last thing I want is for your father to forced into retirement” Percy thought back to earlier conversations held with Cyclone.

“The other instructor most of you all know her for skills, her skills help her lead her generation as the only woman and pilot to surpass being an ace”

“These two they contradict eachother one flies dangerous and like life his doesn’t depend on it, while the other pilot flies dangerous yet cold, without making mistakes, taking everything down”

“I give you Captain Pete Mitchell callsign Maverick, and Commander Percy Mitchell—callsign: Ambush”

Who would’ve thought the notorious father-daughter duo would be teaching a class.

Both Maverick and Percy made there way up front, Percy combat boot laces clicking aganist the floor each time she stepped.

Maverick walked up first nodding whilst also grinning like the idiot he is“Good Morning”.

She glanced at Bradley before her facial expression went cold “Lieutenants, Good Morning”. So much for being adults.

“See this text book, F-18 you know this book inside and out, so does your enemy”, he said tossing the textbook into the trashcan beside him.

“They don’t know your limits, they don’t know how you fly in the sky”

Percy took over the speech leave it up to her to give the ole death talk. “The mission needs the best of the best, the mission can’t make room for ego’s, error over who’s the better pilot, but it does have room for you come home in a casket, for your family to get the flag at your funeral”.

“This mission needs for you all work as a team, the second you get up there forget your grievances and push to come back home alive all of you” The coldness is Percy voice leaves no match for Iceman Kazansky.

The coldness sends chills down the aviator’s spine’s. Maverick was proud of his daughter, despite talking about death she was right Percy knew what it felt like to lose a friend to lose a wingman.

Lieutenant Margo “Venom” Rockwell.

“We don’t know your limits either, so we’re pushing them today, testing you, trying to scout which one of you, any of you can truly back-seat for me”

“Let plays a game, let see who’s has the talent to shoot me down”

“Good morning aviators, this is your Captain speaking, Welcome back to basic flight school”, Maverick spoke through the intercoms.

As we said earlier today lesson is dog fighting, all guns, no missiles. No going below the hard deck of five thousand feet, work together as a team, shoot me down or suffer the consequences”

“Conquences of what” Hangman asked as his southern accent thick with cockiness.

So much ego, no room for team working.

“I shoot back” Maverick supplied easily without saying thing else.

“No one has the balls to do so” Percy spoke up, eyeing for someone to fight back.

“And you can, Ambush?”, he said spitefully.

“Already have Bradshaw, about decade ago—before you came” Too much anger clouded her thoughts, he’s purposefully doing this, distracting her— the only person to how bad her anger issues were back then.

“Bet shall we Sir, Commander” Payback suggested

Percy turns her back away from Rooster, like a child would do. Like someone hiding from their problems.

“What do you have in mind Payback?”

“Whoever get shot down first has to do 275 push ups”

“Damn” Phoenix whistled

“Hangman you already feeling the push ups” Phoenix teased lightly.

“Don’t flatter yourself Lieutenant Trace”

“Up the stakes Captain Mitchell, 100 burpees”

“I understand your thinking Ambush” Maverick laughed already knowing his daughter angle.

“Deal, move pilots—move like your life depends on it”

Percy side step them walking back to the base “Your not playing Commander?” Rooster asked her.

“Nope Rooster, no need for me to play” she dragged the p“I’m hear to teach Lieutenant Bradshaw”

“This how were doing it Percy?” he asked her, how dare he act as if this is her fault.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw I think it’s in your best interest to leave and get started on your push ups” Percy replied cold, uninterested.

Bradley flys like his father just slower.

“Everyone you love leaves you, they leave for someone better” Rooster remarks before leaving her alone in the hangar.

Everyone does leave her. She isn’t worth loving.

“What was that Bradshaw, go get your push ups in—275, 100 burpees”

-

“He was off balance, I couldn’t mark the shot and take the kill” Rooster gave her a lame excuse, hoping for something, not leniency, can’t he knows better.

“Rules are Rules Bradshaw, report yourself to the tarmac now”

“You won’t be saying this when you cause a teammate or yourself to come home in caskets” Percy snapped before leaving him with Hondo”

“Make sure he does them all, Hondo”

“You got it Commander”, a reminder to not piss off Percy Mitchell, she’s slowly coming back.

One step closer, two steps back.

[sleepingdeath-bboys]

sanctuary ; 18+

pairing ; jamie winton x female!reader

requested by ; anonymous

word count ; 2544

warnings ; unprotected sex, slightly dominant jamie (verrrrry slight), porn with minimal plot

note ; similarly not 100% on my characterisation of jamie so will probably edit or rewrite this at some point

read also on ; ao3 | wattpad

Peace, for most people, can mean many different things — a veritable baker's dozen definitions each affixed with their own exceptions and caveats that change from person to person. One man's peace could be another man's struggle and strain, and vice versa.

For some, peace was synonymous with a warm cup of cocoa on a cold day. When you're nice and dry in oversized clothes by the iced over window as rain pitter-patters against the glass — half open or entirely closed — with a half-read, dog-eared book to your side and the real world in full view. A day off; a holiday; a blissful autumn or mid winter morning.

For others, peace meant a hike in the wilderness with your best friends and fields of luscious green sprawling out for miles in every direction. It meant breathless inclines and cold cooked meals sat overlooking a remarkable view you'd be damned if you didn't capture by photo or by painting. A hill; a cliff side; a national park where you're both alone and in good company.

For others still, peace was company where you're never able to catch your breath between each round of laughter and jokes and drinking. Where you have loved one's on either side all huddled so close together that you're sure that you'll end up melting into one another by the end of the evening, always finding something or even nothing to talk about. Close friends; family; a conversation that never ends until it does and you all go home feeling fuller despite having had nothing to eat.

For you, though, peace was Jamie, your boyfriend of just over a year. It was quiet nights in after hectic days out where you could just lay in each other’s arms and let the rest of the world fade away as you bask in the warmth he so freely gave you. Baggy red hoodies; eggs on toast; shy, almost awkward smiles that are shared between nervous laughter as you make love for the hundredth time with all the messiness and laughter of teenagers.

And never had there been a moment where you craved his touch so severely as today — as you stumbled through the doorway with hair sticking out every which way and your work clothes thoroughly creased and ruffled. As you kicked off your heels to some random corner of the entryway (an action you’d be sure to regret in the morning yet couldn’t find it in yourself to care) and slung your coat lazily on its hook you found yourself calling out for him, eyes scanning the living room and what you could see of the kitchen in a desperate attempt to seek out a sanctuary from your, quite frankly horrid, work day.

————

When you finally got a response, you hurriedly emptied your pockets of your keys and whatever random junk you’d happened to pick up that day, before rushing towards the kitchen to greet your beloved boyfriend. Though thankfully for you, you didn’t need to make the full trip as Jamie quickly emerged and met you half way, still drying his hands on a raggedy old tea towel when you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a much needed kiss — which he, of course, was quick to reciprocate whilst trying to not wet your clothes with his hands.

“I missed you,” you finally said after you broke away, leaning forwards to nuzzle you nose against his, “today was bloody awful, Jamie.”

“I know the feeling,” he responded quietly, kissing the bridge of your nose before resting his forehead against yours, “my day felt like it was going to go own forever.”

“Seems the universe is plotting against us again, huh?” You joked, giggling when you noticed a small smile worming its way onto your love’s face.

“Seems so,” he joked in kind, pulling back just enough to press another chaste kiss to your lips before moving further back, “I’ll be back in a moment; just gonna go put this tea towel away.”

“Sure thing, love.”

And then a wonderful idea popped into your head, one that you were more than certain Jamie would be happy to partake in. Stress relief of the best kind, and all you needed to do was wait a few short seconds.

————

The moment Jamie re-entered the sitting room, you loosely wrapped your arms around his neck and started lightly toying with the hair on the back of his neck, smiling brightly when he rested his hands on your waist and started drawing circles on your hips with his thumbs.

“I missed you today,” you began almost coquettishly, looking up at him through your eyelashes as his cheeks flushed with the suggestion of your tone, “everything was so terrible I just couldn’t wait to get home and see you, Jamie.”

“I-I,” he cleared his throat and started again in a much more certain tone, punctuating his statement by chastely kissing the tip of your nose, “I missed you too, love; I always miss you when I’m at work. You know that, right?”

“Of course I do!” You leaned back with feigned, exaggerated shock, placing a hand over your heart in mock-hurt, “Quite frankly, dear, I’m offended at the mere suggestion!”

Jamie laughed and gently shook his head, catching on to your game somewhat as he continued, “My apologies; will you let me make it up to you?”

You leaned towards him and tilted your head in faux-confusion, a smile teasing at the edge of your lips as you felt your precious stresses beginning to melt away bit by bit. “And how would you suggest you should do that?”

“Bedroom?” He asked with a cheeky grin on his face, cheeks flushed a slightly deeper shade than before.

“I thought you’d never ask!” You teased, moving to chastely kiss him on the lips before you both hurried up the stairs and into your shared room with all the eagerness of teenagers on a time crunch.

————

You removed each other’s clothes in a desperate flurry of flailing limbs and flying fabric sent to varying nooks and crannies about your room in creased balls of buttons and zips and pockets that weren’t as empty as they should have been. First jackets and ties and shirts and trousers then your underwear was sent careening onto the desk on the bedroom’s far side — a mixture of colours, including Jamie’s pink boxers, that contrasted heavily with the plain wooden surface they landed on as you tripped over yourselves and each other in your mad scramble to undress. It was truly its own brand of chaotic, but in the most wonderful of ways as it allowed you to get exactly what you wanted as quickly as possible.

Jamie’s hands once again landed on your hips, lightly massaging their way up your sides and back down again in a soothing rhythm as your own hands tangled in his hair and tugged him towards you and into a passionate kiss. Tongues met messily and teeth met lips in a not-entirely-unpleasant way as you walked him backwards towards your bed and carefully straddled his lap, only breaking the kiss for a brief moment as Jamie laid back completely and began ushering you up his body.

Seemingly sensing your hesitation, Jamie pulled back and gave you that shy smile of his as he assured you that it’s fine and he wanted to please you — that he can wait. All but silencing the protests threatening to spill from your lips with a single phrase before repositioning you to sit on his face.

“I can wait a few minutes; you look more stressed than I do and I just really want to make you feel good right now. Okay?”

And how could you say no when those beautiful brown eyes were looking up at you from between your thighs as if you were the most beautiful thing in creation. As if you were Aphrodite herself.

So, with waning reluctance, you carefully moved yourself over him and began slowly lowering yourself onto his mouth, assured when his hands moved down to your thighs to catch you and as he gave you another one of his beautiful, loving smiles. Damn him and his want to please you — but you couldn’t really complain too much in the end; you were still benefitting from it, after all.

————

Once you were a comfortable and close few millimetres from his mouth, Jamie parted his lips and licked a long stripe along your slit with the very tip of his tongue, seemingly testing the waters and being spurred on by the low groan that escaped you. Then, much more confident, he began to lick you in a decently quick pace; alternating between long stripes with the flat of his tongue and using the very tip to trace circles and figure eights on your sensitive bud. Every movement, every ministration, seemed perfectly designed to have you keening and arching your back from touch alone — yet the sheepish messiness and occasional breakaways to press chaste kisses to the insides of your thighs was entirely Jamie.

A delightful mixture of your love’s affection and his drive to please you sent you spiralling into yourself as the coil within your abdomen wound tighter and tighter at the thought.

Oh and lord the sight of him! Those beautiful, wide brown eyes peering up at you from between your thighs, irises sparking with the purest adoration and affection as he diligently delivered you with his mouth. As he whispered the sweetest praise against your sex and kissed each inch of plush skin in his reach whenever he broke for breath. Beautiful; devoted; loving and above all so very much himself throughout.

But you were completely lost the moment he removed one hand from your thigh and introduced a few of those long, slender fingers into the thick of things. First one, then two and even three plunging into your dripping pussy and fingering, scissoring, crooking into your sweet-spot over and over again in time with the gentle suckling on your clit. It was a dangerous, addictive rhythm that had you grinding onto his tongue and burying your fingers in his soft hair and crying out his name as you fell over the edge for the first time.

White vision; white noise; white static tingling across your body as you praised him and prayed for more — prayed to him like a messiah or prophet as you came. Thinking of nothing and of him at the same time as he lovingly guided you through your climax before carefully, gently, laid you on your back in the centre of the bed and positioned himself between your open legs, waiting eagerly for your go ahead.

————

After a good minute or so you finally came to and reached out for Jamie, pressing a series of chaste kisses about his face and revelling in the closeness your position provided. You started with his forehead, then travelled down the bridge of his nose and then to his lips before moving up again to his cheeks, then his eyelids until, finally satisfied, you pulled back and grinned at him. And, unable to not notice your boyfriend’s now notably dishevelled appearance, you giggled lightly and pulled him into a more passionate kiss, muttering your insistence that he fuck you against his lips.

And, for his part, Jamie immediately complied — not breaking the kiss as he lifted your legs to wrap around his waist and slowly, carefully pushed himself inside of you. Inch by inch by inch you could feel him stretching you out — to the brink, even — but you always felt the stretch. The delicious mixture of pain and pleasure that promised pure bliss in the moment and those delightful aches the morning after that Jamie would surely apologise for no matter how many times you assured him you enjoyed it.

But for as large as Jamie is (and for as much of a bulge there is when he’s inside of you), he’s always so terribly considerate and gentle with you; treating you as if you were made from a delicate porcelain or glass. He’ll cling to you tightly, kissing you as if you’ll disappear the moment he lets go, but every thrust into your soaked pussy is so slow and gentle — so concerned for your well-being, at least towards the start.

Once he’s certain you’ve adjusted (and after you’ve downright begged him to move), he’ll start slowly and shallowly thrusting into you, never fully pulling out but doing enough that you can hear the distinctly wet sound of him taking you. In and out; a few inches at a time. Enough to feel something but not enough of him to sate you.

So you start begging, assuring him that you can take him, promising him it won’t hurt in murmurs against his lips that he greedily swallows along with your plentiful moans and groans and whimpers and sighs.

“Please, please, please, please —”

“Jamie, honey, please,”

“I can take it, please”

“Honey please just go faster it won’t hurt me, I promise,”

With every beg and plea Jamie’s resistance wanes a bit more until he’s fully compliant and starts giving you his all, thrusting a little harder and plenty deeper with each stroke. You can feel every thick inch of his dick as it stretches your walls and every thrust sends the head colliding straight into your g-spot — a perfect accident that has you seeing stars before long.

You’re digging your nails into Jamie’s back by now and your ferocity is sure to have left a mark, but if he cares he doesn’t voice it — only able to let out a string of sighs and moans and groans that sound vaguely like your name. All of which you swallow into the kiss as he does for you, too preoccupied with your own approaching climax to do anything but cling to him and buck back into his hips.

Only able to think of him, praise him, devour him, become one with him as your stresses, once so palpable and painful, bleed and rot away into a faint memory — a distance almost concern — and only Jamie is left. Only this moment, this pleasure that’s boiling your blood and sending your heart and lungs into a mad rush. That has your vision blazing white at the edges through closed eyelids and your cunt throbbing madly around Jamie’s overly sensitive cock — as his pace falters.

As you fall over the edge again, this time with him, clinging to each other as your senses come alight and your bodies feel as if they’re floating. As your lips move on their own to spell each other’s names with a reverence reserved for gods and your mixed essences flow out of you and onto the bedsheets below.

A problem you don’t care to comprehend as you pull each other close — closer — and bask in the oversensitive afterglow of your love. In love and in lust and free all in one breath — a breath you greedily take the moment you break the kiss and look at each other with tired eyes that hold more love than there are stars in the sky.

No more stress, no more exhaustion, just each other and this moment and it is perfect.