#but both were done and I got shit for both regarding their ears

[darkdemeter]

WOLF AT YOUR DOOR

◤✘WANDA MAXIMOFF COLUMN | Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader ISSUE NO.#1

NOTES: ↳ I thought that this idea would be my smut ice breaker after it popped into my head when listening to some music. I have written smut before but it's been a while, especially in a form for others to read; so please excuse me if I'm a little rusty. This isn't exactly tied to anything particular regarding either Habits or Convict, but you may interpret this x reader however you wish. Have fun with the oneshot! I've tried to keep this as both descriptive and gender neutral as possible, but it may not be as on par with people who have become well accustomed to writing gn smut. WARNINGS! ↳ Enemies to lovers trope — profanity — wounded reader, mention of scars and blood — semi dom! Wanda and sub! reader & reversal — smut 18+, minors DNI** — angry/aggressive sex — dry humping — bondage — hinted breeding kink — semi-clothed sex — fingering and mouth oral receiving (Wanda recieving) — Wanda is just a tease to reader — maybe dubious consent? (I feel like I should put this in here, just to be safe) — minor choking — talk of marking — potential grammar and punctuation errors — I think that's it? SUMMARY: ↳ Of course this had to happen right before this mission. Wanda Maximoff had to pry inside your mind, searching for who knows what, the little witch did this to you. And now you will cash in on your promise - your one and only warning to her if she ever fucked with your mind: that you'll be a wolf at her door. Little do you know that you're a wolf walking into a trap.

✎ 4.2k

@alexawynters

↳ WANDA MAXIMOFF TAGLISTS

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‘Fucking dammit!’

You cringe to hide the snarl snaking up your throat, your palm harshly pressing into the bullet wound at your shoulder. A real fucking close call this time and all because of her. Yes, everything would have been fine had Wanda not pried into your mind, invaded the personal sanctity of your thoughts. 

But no. No, she had to just take a little peek didn’t she? And because of that, your mind was elsewhere - distracted - and your cover was blown before you could get the information you needed. In short, the mission was a complete fucking bust. Your report will undoubtedly be met by less than impressed superiors. When they brought you on, they expected the job done. 

It was your way to operate. You always got the job done successfully. Has Wanda purposely sabotaged you? Is that her goal?

You’re planning to confront her on the matter right now. You had stumbled all the way back to the compound because the car you took there was blown to pieces when you were compromised. Tony wasn’t going to be very pleased about that either. Shit, it’s like she’s trying to get everyone against you. 

‘Who does she think she is? Fucking me over like this!’

You enter the compound, the main level vacant except the night shift receptionist. She glances up at you and the sheer gasp of horror from her, you point a finger at her. “I’m fucking fine,” you snarl as you strut past her. Your hand leaves your shoulder to the large cut across your stomach. You allow a pained whimper to escape when you enter the privacy of the elevator to take you up to your chosen floor. 

Your ears ring in the deafening silence, breath fast paced and light. The wounds were of no dire measure to pay a trip to the medical ward. They only fuelled your anger towards Wanda. Ever since you first joined the team, Wanda always had a way to test your limits and push your buttons. 

It was just a common sight to see you both butting heads, whether that was during missions or at the compound. You both were always at each other, hackles raised and snarky comments. Of course, what was your conflict but a cover up to fatal attraction? That was the running theory of your fellow teammates, anyway. Never would you admit anything to them in any case. 

Wanda was a pain in your arse as much as you were a mongrel to her. 

Ah, that word: mongrel. Wanda favoured the use of that word for you. It was her name for you. The way you feel the fur beneath your skin bristle each time she calls you that is the reason why you now have to wear a shock collar. Anytime that the device would detect your body’s indicating factors of shifting, the shock would startle you and evade the transformation. 

Was it humane? No, not really. But did it give Wanda the power to only torment you further without repercussions? You fucking bet it did. 

The elevator pings and the doors open with a faint whoosh as you arrive on your floor. You immediately make your way towards her dormitory, which by incident, is temporarily yours as well. 

There was a small situation last week that left your own dormitory in such a wreck that Tony had you bunk with Wanda until he could fix and reinstate stronger materials to withstand your rage episodes. 

And you have only one person to blame for that particular incident. 

Your fist pounds on the door enough to shake it against the hinges. Your key didn’t work. She had the security chain engaged to keep you out. You can hear her inside, her voice is soft and fuck, if it didn’t aggravate you anymore than you already were it surely made something in your abdomen twitch and churn. 

‘That little–’

“Wanda!” you bark behind bared teeth, fangs pronounced in the mix of your frustration, you pound on the door again. “Open this fucking door, now!”

After a moment, and she was taking her time, you can hear the leisurely patter of her feet as she opens the door for you. She stands before you and the scent hits you. For a few seconds it disorientates you, you huff to regain control of your senses. 

“You fucking bitch,” you rasp, voice laced with your utter disdain for the woman who stood in your way; blocking your path. 

Her eyes were smirking first before the corner of her lips twitched into position. “How was the mission, mongrel?”

“A bust, thanks to you.” You growl down at her as you brush beside her to let yourself in. She closes and locks the door. 

“Why’d you do it, Wanda?” You watch her as she walks past you. When she doesn’t answer, you snatch hold of her wrist as you ask her again, tone far more venomous than before. 

“I didn’t do anything.” She pulls her wrist from your grip and continues on her merry way.

“Don’t you fucking lie to me, witch! You did it on purpose, I know you did.” You point at her accusingly, the shake in your arm causes a streak of pain to shoot through your shoulder and you yelp. You press a blood stained glove to it again, teeth clenched hard that your jaw flexes. 

Wanda holds up her hands in mock surrender. “Right, blame me, of course that’s the logical thing to do. You just can’t admit that you failed to do the job.”

That’s struck a deep nerve because you’re pulled away from your original plan to grab a glass and your whiskey and head for the shower. Instead, you engage Wanda. Your hands encircle her wrists and the entirety of your body pins her against the back of the couch. 

The aftershock of the collar is a distant sting in the heat of the moment. Wanda is close, so close against you that with a breathy intake of air, her breasts push up into your ribcage. She eyes the vibrant hue of your glowing eyes. 

Still, she silently denies she had anything to do with it. Did she do it on purpose? You have to know.

“You– you read my fucking mind, Maximoff!” you hiss your accusation, “I told you to keep your magic away from there, but no, you had to go poking around.” 

Your hands move to grip her forearms and for the first time ever, she flinches. Your breath hitches in your throat and the glow dissipates from your eyes. 

There was much more you wanted to say. But the way her body flinched beneath your iron grip, how for a sliver of a second you swear you saw the ember of fear. Did you really scare her?

But then why did she smell like that?

‘Fuck, she smells like…’

With a deep breath through your nose, you lean forward until your lips brush the shell of her ear. “Stay out of my head, Maximoff.”

‘No.’

The glow returns to your eyes and the urge to shift right there crawls beneath, it feels like your skin is on fire. The collar whirrs in warning to keep your transformation at bay, lest you need another shocking reminder.

“Wanda–”

“So you’re really going to ignore the fact you heard me moaning your name before?” You hear the challenge in her light, accented voice.

The animalistic growl in your throat ceases immediately, eyes wide and despite your dominating position, you feel like the one under her. She smirks again. “Come on, what’s wrong?” 

She arches her neck - baring it to you - as she tries to press her lips to your own ear. She whispers with a sultry purr. “Don’t you want to mark me anymore, Wolf?”

Now it was your turn to be the one that flinches. Why is she doing this?

You retract yourself swiftly as if she caused you some semblance of physical pain that made you release her. In some form, she did. That pang of arousal deep within you begins to awaken and you don’t like the smug look on her face as she sits herself up. 

She tries to act cute and innocent when she is anything but that. But her eyes compel you with the flutter of her dark lashes. Was she casting a spell on you?

You back off slowly, eyes trained on her as she takes one step forward. Then another. And another few after that. You watch her hand gingerly play with the tight knot of her short, silky bathrobe. Only now did you realise exactly how short it was on her, the hem of it grazing just above the middle of her thighs. No wonder her scent was so strong, there were barely any layers to conceal it.

She wanted this to happen.

“You know what they say about us,” she tries but you’re quick to shut it down. “There is nothing between us.” Your conviction is absolute on the matter. Even if there was a hint of attraction towards the woman in front of you, surely the others would have something to say about it; all of which would disapprove. You’d not gained a wisdom linking you to your supposed mate which gave you ample opportunity to sleep with whoever and however many you wanted. 

But you never did. You continue to stare at Wanda, unblinking with a narrowed gaze. She shakes her head. Of course, she isn’t going to take your word for it easily. No, like always, she would fight you over it. 

“But you want there to be.” She sounds so sure of herself. She is still stalking towards you. When did you become a prey and her the hunter? You give no response and this only gives her more power to do as she sees fit. 

“If it weren’t for that collar around your neck, you would have me bent over the couch right now.” You hold a hand out as you call for her to stop. She halts in her advance, head tilting to the side like a confused puppy. She flutters those lashes again and your breath feels heavy, swollen because of your conflicted arousal and confusion. 

“That is one of your fantasies, isn’t it?”

“I said stop,” you warn, slowly lowering your hand, “whatever you’re playing at right now, I want no part.” You see her lips fall open as she offers a toothy grin. “I’m just trying to understand why you fight this.”

“I’m not fighting anything,” you say quickly with a shake of your head. “No?” she purrs lowly with a quirk of her brow. Shrugging, she raises a hand up. “Then you won’t fight this.” 

The ambient glow of her magic orbits around her hand as she swipes her arm to the side. Your brows furrow and mouth falls agape, the clicking of your belt looped around your tactical pants is quick before the strap of leather is flying to the side, to some forgotten corner of the common area. 

Your eyes that bore witness to your belt coming undone fly up to meet Wanda’s, a protest on the tip of your tongue, you’re stopped short when you’re knocked back. Your arse, which you expect to get planted on the floor, is instead caught by one of the dining table’s chairs. Your arms are restrained by her magic to keep them pinned behind you.

“W-Wanda, what are you–”

She shushes you while she catches up to you, her steps slow and methodical. Her stare penetrates the darkest recess of your soul and you recoil beneath it. The pain of your wounds as they begin their process of healing are long forgotten now. You have other things to worry about, how much Wanda actually knows about you and what she intends to do with you. 

“I want you to admit it,” she hums in a low whisper that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand. She was playing on your fantasies. The fucking witch. 

“Admit what?” You force the words out through the biting of your clenched jaws.

“That there is something between us. That each time we fight it’s because we’re denying that attraction. That the wolf needs me to satiate its appetite because we both know I am the only thing that can.” 

Wanda stands between the gap of your spread legs, she swipes her hand quickly and the lapels of your coat and tactical vest are torn open by the will of her magic. You exhale sharply, a growl pulling through your teeth as you glare at Wanda between the narrowed slits of your eyes. She drinks in the sight of your bare chest before her, the way each of the muscles flex beneath the skin, the heat of your body practically rising off your skin like hot springs. The red streaks of blood from your wound peeking out just beneath the fabric of your gear.

“Wanda.” You’re panting now, anger turned into the vulnerability that was your aroused state of mind. 

That was why you never gave into those temptations. Why you dismiss that flirtatious bartender at every turn whenever she sees you in that bar, why those who have asked for your number, you give them either the number of some Chinese takeout restaurant or even one of your teammates. 

The threat of such vulnerability and intimacy was too great of a target on your back. She moves to straddle your lap, hands pressed to your exposed chest. 

“Admit it,” she says again and you snarl at her. “Never! There’s nothing to admit!” 

She giggles then and rolls her hips forward and down against your crotch. 

“F-fuck!” you stutter, your arms and chest strain forward but Wanda has you contained. Trapped. Like some common dog. A mongrel. 

“Still nothing between us?” she asks, voice laden with a soft whimper, her purpose is to make you crack; to give in and admit to everything she knows. As if lying would spurn her when she knows the truth. 

Why does she want you to admit it so badly? Because she wants to torment you, it’s so simple. 

“N-no,” you grunt only to hiss beneath your breath when she rolls her hips again, this time with more pressure. You swear you feel the pulsing of her clit against the coarse fabric of your pants. 

You do all you can to refrain from bucking your hips or else you were done for. 

“So you mean to tell me that you haven’t fantasised about…,” she trails off with a pout of her lips, feigning that innocent look of contemplation. “For fuck’s sake,” you drawl as your head falls back. 

She’s killing you. Slowly but surely she is killing you. 

She continues, “being out here in the kitchen, late at night, drinking your whiskey alone before I come out here in a short, little bathrobe…” 

‘Oh… fuck.’ 

That was a recent fantasy.

Her fingers drag down the ravine of your heated skin on show for her to then fiddle with the two threads that held her bathrobe together. “Wearing this?” You shouldn’t have looked but fucking hell, you were always the a little too curious for your own good. 

She’s tugged the knot loose and lets the silky fabric roll off her shoulders and down to her elbows. If this was all to be considered as some strange, aroused induced coincidence then that is out the window now. Because there is no fucking way she knew to pick a lingerie set in your favourite colour. 

You tilt your chin toward her only slightly and let your glowing eyes take in her form. The moment she arches her neck the slightest is when you lose it. 

You lunge your neck forward, your canines bared and at the ready to mark the junction between neck and shoulder, to litter her neck with dark bruises so she wouldn’t be able to hide them. But you’re stopped short yet again in your advance. Her magic prevents you, mere inches away. To top it all off, she chuckles. 

She’s cracked you.

You growl, the sound husky and deep in your chest. 

“Fucking– let me–” Your muscles strain and flex as you fight the barrier of her magic to no avail. She tuts you softly, moving herself slightly forward so that her arms push her breasts up to elevate her cleavage to become more pronounced. Damn her. She continues to roll her hips in a slowed motion, riding you out into your confession. 

“Shall I continue?”

“No!” The single word sends a thrilling chill down her spine. “Then admit it.”

“No,” you answer again, this time with a more levelled tone. 

Her fingers move to the fly of your pants as you let out a confused whine as she loosens them slightly. Her palm presses flush against the junction between your thighs and you moan. And that sound is the most exquisite sound Wanda has ever heard you make. For a battle-hardened wolf, wild and untamed and a proven danger to the public, nobody would suspect that you were capable of such noises. But Wanda knew. 

Her palm is small in comparison to you, and as much force as she uses now there is a level of delicacy she retains. Your resolve is crumbling quickly. You jolt forward again with your mouth ajar to mark her but she stops you and arches back. 

“Let me have you!” 

“I’ll let you have me, play out all your little fantasies with me. But I want you to indulge in mine, first. So… admit it and I’m all yours.” 

Was she fucking serious? This is her fantasy? Well, you never expected her to be into something like this. “Ah, fuck…” She hears your mumbling, any moment now you are about to surrender. 

She just needs to push that last little bit. 

“Just think about it, Wolf,” she whispers, lips dancing over yours, one of her hands placing a single finger between your lips to keep them from meeting. “I’m all yours if you just say it. Tell me what I want to hear, and you can have your little midnight snack right here. You can have me over the couch, in the shower and in your bed until the tousled sheets smell of nothing but sex.” 

Fuck, where did she learn to talk so filthy? 

“I can’t,” you say behind a heavy pant. She whines quietly in your ear as her other hand that’s palming you stops, but her hips continue to roll against that sensitive region. At this point, you’re chasing your climax right there. Who knows if she will keep to her word after she indulges in her twisted fantasy. 

You shift your eyes to watch her hand that rests between your bodies and you almost lose yourself to your high. Her hand dips beneath the lacey fabric of her lingerie, her fingers sliding over her folds and thumb rolling her clit in circles; all of which is left to the beauty of your imagination.

“Wanda, don’t test me!” Your words are a command; a warning that she doesn’t heed. “But this is a test.” Your brows furrow, confusion etched into your face. “To see if you can be broken in.”

Was that all you were to her? Something to be broken in?

She begins to make those sounds again. The same chorus of moans and pleas with your name as a choked gasp on the edge of her vocals. You overheard her masturbating when you first banged on the door to be let in. 

And she was doing it to the thought of you.

“Wanda!” you hiss, your hips finally buck up to meet the hunger of her own that roll with such fervour, you believe she was so close to getting off right there in your lap. “Y/N, oh f-fuck, Y/N!” she gasps out, “right there, just like that– oh shit!” 

“Fuck, I admit it!” 

Everything stops all at once and your chest heaves numerous times. The air is thick to your lungs and each intake makes you feel like you’re drowning more than anything. Wanda stares at you, silently, her eyes searching yours when you finally look back at her beneath that wolfish glare. How that stare made her wet in her panties every time. 

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” You scowl at her teasing words. The moment you feel her magic cease is when you pin her against the dining table behind her. She props herself up on her elbows, the loose fabric of her robe still clinging to her form but she was exposed in that cute lingerie set.

Like a hungry wolf, your tongue licks over your teeth and along the top of your lips. You groan as her aroused scent wafts up, the smell irresistible. 

“You’re a damn tease, you know that?” She chuckles beneath her airy breaths. “It was the only way to get you to confess.”

Your hand clasps hold of her throat. Oh, how you love the look of fear and lust on her face all at once. It was a sight only you would get to see. “And I have a million ways to ruin you,” you growl lowly, “now you’re in my fantasy, Maximoff and if you have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into by letting the wolf at your door inside, then you know I’m always rough.”

“I’m counting on it,” she wheezes behind the firm pressure you apply to her throat. “Good. Now keep them spread, Maximoff or you’ll learn what rough is real quick.” 

She does as you say and spreads her legs open and you sink to your knees, even then given your height difference, you are at perfect level with her soaked cunt, the large, dark patch evident of how badly she wanted this all along. This whole time. 

Your clawed fingers none too gently rip the panties aside, fabric tearing from the sheer force of it. Wanda’s hands find themselves clenching fistfuls of your hair, tugging you in closer with a needy whimper of your name.

Her legs hook over your shoulders, mewling when you pepper her inner thighs with kisses and playful bites with your sharp canines, a rumble of a groan reverberating between her legs causes her to quiver. “Y/N, please!” she pleads. 

“Ooh, what’s this?” you chuckle, “don’t worry, Sweetheart, I’ll give you a taste.”

You slide a finger past her slick folds, her walls tighten around your single digit. You groan when her moan makes her pussy clench your finger tighter. “Shit, Wanda, I’ve barely done a thing yet.”

“Then do something!” she hisses and you give her that same, wolfish glare. “D-don’t look at me like– ahh!”

She is at your mercy now when you begin thrusting your finger back and forth, soon adding another two through the folds. She whines and moans, cursing your name and praising your work. When you pull your now slick covered fingers from her pussy, she tries to protest but the replacement is swift; and in her lust-ridden opinion, far better. Her eyes roll back and she lays flat on her back against the table as your tongue laps at her cunt, tip teasing the bud of nerves. You growl again and fuck, if she didn’t make the sexiest, neediest sound ever at that. You continue with what’s working at getting your little witch off. Her breath comes in short pants and her legs quiver as they move to circle around your head. Her fingers curl tighter against your roots as she chokes out, “I-I’m cum–cumming!”

You purr against the flood of her orgasm, lapping her divine juices up with your tongue. She breathes heavily for a moment in regaining her composure. You pull your head, albeit, struggling to pry her hands and legs from around you, you crash your lips against hers. The kiss is passionate, fuelled by hunger shared by both parties. Her mouth invites you and you gladly force your tongue past her parted lips, letting her taste herself on your tongue. 

You rut your hips between her still spread legs and they envelop you, encouraging the rocking motion with eagerness. “I still fucking hate that you read my mind and all,” you mumble into the kiss. 

‘Even when I say that I've also thought about carrying your pups?’

Your smirk with a coarse chuckle, dark in its intentions and your eyes glow that colour that brings Wanda to her knees. “Naughty witch, don’t test me there. Those will be my pups you're swollen with.” 

She tilts her head again but this time, you see no intent to tease in her eyes. No intent to…

“This isn’t a test.”

Fucking hell, that wolfish smirk of yours could make anyone wet at the drop of a hat. Too bad for others, because Wanda had you wrapped around her witchy, little finger that danced with magic.

Magic that just so happens to unlock the shackle around your neck. Well, the wolf at the door is now off its chain.

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳“A weird Simp” — Geto Suguru

Synopsis: not much can be done when your crush doesn’t reciprocate your feelings—unless, he does, but then, what if he’s bad at projecting it out? Why, make him jealous ofc

— A/n: idk, it was rushed, it was sudden, it is what it is and you take what I give ya— @romiyaro please help. Satoru is a wingman here tho so!!

— word count: 1k

— warnings: nothing? Slight angst to fluff? Reader and satoru make Suguru jealous? Unestablished relationship; not proof read idk

You stared at him in the periphery— stoic, stagnant, unreachable at the moment.

It had taken a morning full of encouragement and planning, slow inhales and sharp exhales—55th rehearsal of the 43rd conversation that you had planned in your head—only to bump into him carelessly.

“Oh- S-Geto! Hey, sorry!” Eyes not even reaching up to meet his, you mindlessly pushed yourself away—ears burning so hot that his words were a quick blur.

“Geto…are you free this weekend?”

A pause slapped your face, hard—his laugh, on something Haibara said, came to a sudden pause.

“No,” the response was swift, as if not a single thought behind it—your heart ached.

A bite of your lower lip, “what is it?” haibara’s words snapped you out close, “just two tickets,” you mumbled, “to this concert but oh..”

the bite of you lip only got harder as he, Suguru, scoffed, maybe, you weren’t sure—“I’ll be busy with Satoru on the weekend so..”

“Yeah, it is fine.”

It wasn’t—Satoru had the third ticket—Satoru couldn’t have had plans with Suguru at all, it was anything but fine.

“I swear he hates me,” you mumbled, head hanging low in your hands—a grin Satoru let out, knowing all the better.

“No he doesn’t,” your back remained turned to all that was forward, facing Satoru as you continued your rant—hushed words that came out in a frenzy as you walked towards class.

“What would you know—have you seen how he looks at me? And the casual way he lies?” A ridiculous expression lay painted on your face.

And answer to that question, Satoru had—but he knew all so perfectly that not a single particle in you would believe Suguru himself if he ever told you just how many times, and the way he saw you.

“No he doesn’t,” another groan that you pertained—“but he does,” exaggerated your hand expressions, flying across as you talked to Satoru—the little frown was finally turning up to the smile he adored—and his smirk widening as his eyes caught the bigger picture.

For right behind you, walked Suguru head stuck into the iPod—the one you gifted him with much regard—and you walked towards him too, head stuck within thoughts of him.

“Bet he thought I was such an idiot for bumping into him this morning- I’ll tell how it happened—I was walking thinking about this one mission and then I just turned like this and- shit!”

And just like hours ago, that you’d bumped into Suguru Geto, once again, your body collided with his, both of your hands reaching out to massage the afflicted areas.

“Shit- Geto, I- I’m so sorry I-”

“It’s ok,” his words brushed you off, a side glance parted, an eye roll as his hands brushed off negligible dust off of himself.

Your face burned as he did so, another apology at the tip, ready to roll off when- “watch while you’re walking- don’t want you bumping into me like that,”

Satoru groaned at the last he didn’t mention, because he knew all so well that later that night, it would him who’d have you listen to Suguru’s rant about just how you’re perceptible to hurting yourself.

And the apology just vanished straight up—the spot taken by embarrassment all the more as Satoru’s giggle fell on your ears, the moment Suguru left.

“Guess ya fell for him huh?”

Satoru thought the joke was funny—but his smirk fell off all the same when your friend greeted him.

“Oh cmon, it’s alright-”

“It’s not,” a shake of your head—“does he actually despise me so much?”

Oh, but he didn’t, but oh, only Satoru would accept that.

“He’s an idiot y/n, and so are you,” and at his words, the frown only ever deepened.

“Don’t look like that,” his eyes scanned his watch—5 minutes till class—“C’mere I’ll teach ya a lil something,”

Very frankly, you were sure that Satoru’s plan would not work out—in fact, it was a total bummer if anything.

“Ignore Suguru,” he’d mumbled, after wasting all the five minutes he’d spared, bragging of how the perfect wingman would always be him.

Ignore Suguru—how does one ignore the person who’s already ignoring them?

The plan was stupid, however worse could your relation with Suguru get?

Right?

“You want lunch Toru?” Your words rang in his head.

“You want coffee Toru?” Your words swarmed his head.

“You want a break Toru?” Your words terrorised his head.

Seemingly you wanted nothing but Toru.

And it just so happened, Toru seemed to want you because everytime—with the biggest grin Satoru would nod and follow you out like a puppy, despite Suguru and his annoyed glances and the shake of his head.

A sharp sigh he let out, eyeing the two of you, it’s been two days since—two days that Suguru had held his silence.

“Toru, pass me the notebook please,” Suguru didn’t even bother looking down, he knew the notebook was closer to him—he wouldn’t bother.

A long hand reached out, swiping the notebook away from Suguru—and you—“how was the concert?” He finally asks, just for the sake of it, for the sake of something—it was fine, he supposed, if you wouldn’t talk, he would.

“It was fun.”

The response lay cold, unfinished but he knew that was all you had to offer—as you’d been offering for the past two days.

Suguru wasn’t sure to why he was so bothered, I mean, sure he was into you but life always gets in the way and that’s fine— but then, the fact also lay that life didn’t get in the way for you and Satoru being together, just with Suguru.

Just when you didn’t wish him a good time whenever you’d spot him anymore, or hold out a seat for him during snack breaks—offer him pieces either—life just got in the way when your smiles towards him fretted to none—but not when you hugged and shared your half of everything to Satoru instead.

He was being dramatic—but then he wanted you to notice him too.

The way you always do.

“How- uh, how was the, you know, encore or some shit?” It was cute, honestly, the slight shake in his voice—the glare at Satoru’s giggle and the way his eyes danced to find yours.

“It was cool, Satoru you want some frozen yogurt?”

And the white haired guy only nodded with a shit eating grin, “I’d uh- I’d like some too,” Suguru chimed the moment you stood up, he knew it was his chance.

“Congrats?” You added, biting back the smirk at his slightly shocked expression at your wording, but Suguru was deliberate, “yeah,” he mumbled, following you all the same.

Satoru watched quietly, watching the two of you walk away—“two days is all he lasts without her? Simp.”

The two of you stood in silence, watching the machine dispense the froyo—all too slow, the tension only ever thickened.

“So uh, you into gojo?”

Your eyes were wide—ears burning, “what?” An echo, Suguru let out at your expression—“I just…thought, it was a date that day wasn’t it?”

You stared at him, date?

The only date you wanted was with him, only to be rejected all so quick—“I also invited you though,” you mumbled quietly, he nodded—his mind just as relevant a mess.

“So…it wasn’t?”

“What’s it to you?”

Silence, not so awkward as always—“maybe because…well, I know it is weird but, maybe we could-”

“Are you nervous?” You wore the biggest smirk, you should’ve been better but oh boy, were you over the moon—and in the moment Suguru wanted nothing but to kiss that damn smirk away.

“Only around you,” he scoffed—“is that why you-”

“Yeah,” he bit his lips now—eyes nervously flitting onto yours, “I just…didn’t know how to…”

“Satoru calls you a weird simp for all of it.”

Needless to say, he did score that date with you.

All of this work is original and entirely my own please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

[the-fluff-piece]

Tropetember 11

Modern day restaurant - enemy colleagues to lovers

You work at baratie - for some reason, Sanji hates you.

But when you meet outside of the restaurant, things change

Sanji looked like a literal popstar: handsome face, great physique. But he was your worst nightmare. He was the collegue that hated your guts.

You salted too much or too little, you weren't fast enough, he even nagged you about how you cut tomatoes for a simple salad. A real ass. He had adored you for a full two minutes before learning that Zeff had hired you to bring innovation to Baratie, pushing Sanji from his throne as the restaurants golden boy.

Every day was a fight against him. Zeff hired you because you graduated top of your class in one of the best schools for gastronomy. Learning from the best had made you confident that you could survive in this kitchen. Both regarding the work and the tough tone, but Sanji got to you.

You were just preparing fish as the hair on you neck raised - Sanji alarm.

As you cut the Filet, you heard a "tssk", already setting you off.

"This is a gourmet restaurant, not a butcher shop" He hissed.

"Oh really? Than why do you act like this was a cheap speed dating event every night, you pervert?" Your little burn earned you a chuckle from the other cooks.

In a second, Sanji was behind you, his hand on yours, grabbing the knife with your hand. In seconds, he had perfectly prepared the filet, the movements of his hands were precise and practiced.

"That's how you do it" He said and swaggered away again.

"I could have done it by myself, you stuck up jerk" you shouted behind him, gesturing with the knife.

"It's a long time until you can dance with the big boys, little girl" He answered as he vanished into the dining area, doubtlessly planning to chat up some poor woman.

Your heart was pounding hard. You would show him. Somehow.

Sanji

When he first saw her, she looked like any other girl. Cute, pretty. But now, she made his skin crawl. New shooting star at the restaurant? From some fancy school? And Zeff loved her every idea. But Sanji knew her kind - only a great career in mind but no respect for food, no character. No heart. He couldn't respect her as a cook.

But she was good, if he didn't watch out, he'd stay behind. He couldn't deny that she brought exciting ideas and techniques to the table, but he didn't have to openly admit it, either. He had learned his trade the hard way, from Zeff. He would take over the restaurant one day, not her.

He had sworn to himself to never treat a lady badly, but she got to him. Little miss perfect. She was a great cook, she had a quick mouth and a drive that was hard to ignore. He loved their little shit talking duels more than he would want to admit. It was exciting him more than a new lady guest these days.

Zeff tried to keep them separate, to minimise fighting, and for a few busy hours he forgot she was there. Almost. He more than once turned around, having heard adorable little sighs - only to see that they belonged to her.

When it got late and the restaurant emptied, he went outside for a smoke. Enjoying the cool air, having a moment of silence.

"Psspss!" He heard.

Carefully, he peered into the dark alley behind the restaurant. Was that y/n? Did she feed...stray cats?

You

What a shift. It was a hard job, but it made you proud. Time for a break.

The night before you had seen a group of stray cats in the streets. You took the cuts from the fish and chicken, that would be thrown away, and waited in the alley.

Soon, a big, burly red tabby cat, one eyed and dirty, approached you.

"Psspss!" You held your hand out. The stray came cautiously nearer and sniffed your hand. You put a plate with the leftovers on the pavement in front of him, and after a short inspection he began to eat the scraps.

"Good little tigger!" You scratched his ear carefully. You have decided to call him tigger, like the one from winnie the pooh!

"What's that?" A harsh voice asked. It was Sanji, his chef's attire was unbuttoned and a cigarette smouldered in the corner of his mouth.

Fuck, not that guy!

He took the scene in with scrutiny, no doubt thinking how to report to Zeff that you were feeding vermin behind the restaurant.

"It's not what it looks like!" You tried to defend the situation. "It's...uhm" But you couldn't think of anything.

"You're wrong, lady!" He looked angry, intense.

"His name is Garfield!" Sanji passionately petted the cat.

"What?"

"Garfield. He likes lasagna." Sanji smiled now, a relaxed, happy smile. To Die for.

"Didn't know you were into stray cats" He said, still running his hand through the cats thick fur.

"They're poor things, I can't ignore them" you said, still unsure what to think.

For a while, you Two just watch the little feline devour his dinner. He snorted and spewed like a little pig,.it made you giggle.

You hadn't expected that a posh guy like Sanji would even touch a dirty stray.

"You know, I've been feeding him, too. He has a few friends as well, but they're shy." He said, looking at you with an new softness in his eyes.

"I gotta say, didn't think you liked animals." He muttered more to himself than you.

"Of course. They need help, so I help them" it was a simple fact. You watched as garfield/ tigger finished his meal and vanished into the night again.

"Well, break is over." You collected the plate and turned to go back into the kitchen.

"Stay a little" Sanji said, his voice sounded genuinely charming, promising that he would make it worth your while.

So you stayed while he smoked.

"You know, when I was small I would cook for the Rats in my parents house" He said, making you chuckle.

"Rats?" You asked, unbelieving.

"Yeah, it's true" He winked at you, suddenly a full gentleman, "vermin in our house."

"Did they like it?" You asked, imagining him cooking little meals.

"They didn't complain" he looked sheepishly at you.

"That sounds so sweet" you said. He laughed.

"Normally, people call it disgusting" he sounded a bit sad.

"Well, I think it's cute. Rats are cute" you stated.

"They are!" He agreed.

A conversation about rat paws ensued, about their little button eyes and how intelligent they where.

When Zeff called you inside from your break, you both returned to the kitchen for cleaning the place up.

When everything was done and it was time to go home, he waited for you.

"Need a lift home?" He asked, standing in front of his car. It was old, used and bruised.

"Why not" you rounded the vehicle and sat in the passenger seat. After cleaning out a bag, empty bottles and some perfume.

"Yeah, sorry about that, didn't think I'd drive a lady home" He said, looking embarrassed.

"I'm used to it. You should see my dad's car - it's full of straw and smells like dog." You said.

"Good man!" He laughed.

The drive home was a bit awkward, you were still getting used to him being nice.

"Sanji, why are you so nice all of a sudden?" You asked.

"There we are" you said as the car pulled into youe road.

"If garfield likes you, you must be OK." He said, as if a cat could explain his sudden change in demeanor. Leaving out the part that his anger had partly been because of the sheer need to kiss her that he couldn't explain. Or his need, right now, to reach over and grab her thigh.

"That's my house" you pointed to a grey apartment building.

"I'll bring you to your door."

_____

And that's it for today because life has a way of happening and I have no time to continue at this point, I am so sorry.

My own little cat needs to go to the vet and I hope it turns out OK 😔

Taglist

@yeeeeezly @waitingmydemons @stariski @livwritesfics @violetmatcha

[cljordan-imperium]

14

Chapter 13

“You know we might want to get in there pretty soon, kitten.”  Kase’s voice sounded a little hoarse to his own ears before he chuckled.  He had a pretty good idea that was partly because of the thoughts and emotions he was having at the moment, the ones that had led him to a spur of the moment decision he was hoping she wouldn’t make him regret anytime in the near future.  As much as he wanted to stay in the garage and keep kissing her, or talking about what this meant for the two of them, he knew that they were being waited on.  It was better to end the moment now, than have his partner, or Spencer, interrupting.  Not to mention that there was an eye in a cooler down next to his leg.

“Not that I want to let you go.” He added, one side of his mouth lifting.  Why did his timing have to suck for shit like this?  He could have waited till he took her back to her car after the examination of the eye.  But, as Kase knew all too well, some moments never happen again and he wasn’t wanting to chance this being one of them.

As Serena nodded, she couldn’t take her eyes off of his sparkling crystalline blue ones.  As she felt drawn into him, she wondered if he realized how open his emotions were in that moment.  It was like his feelings were flowing through his expression.  She didn’t regret even a second of what happened, but they both knew that it was going to complicate things for them.  At the moment, she was not really caring about that, but they would have to talk about it eventually.  Now, however, was not the time.

“I don’t want you to either, but I think you’re right.”  Finally Serena answered, her voice soft as the butterflies in her stomach took flight again.  “There’ll be time later, Karsten.  All the time we want.”  That both excited her and scared her.  How did she end up in this situation again?  Abandoned by Rob, only to now be torn between Keegan and Karsten.

Giving him one last, quick and soft kiss, her hands slid down his back as she pulled away.  She was dreading going into the morgue, and dealing with things; but it could only be put off for so long. The faster she got to work with the examination of the eye, the faster that they would be done and able to focus on other things. Now it was time to get to work.

“Look alive!  Boss lady and your partner incoming!”  Spencer called out with a laugh as he spun his chair away from the monitor, then stood to start to get everything organized for the examination of the eye.  Things would have to be done with meticulous attention to detail and documentation. Everything would have to be recorded via video, audio, and written records, backups of backups made. No detail of the exam would be too small to be recorded in the record.  For the next few days, Spencer and Serena would be a team working in tandem to accomplish only one goal: to ascertain as much information from that one small eye as they could.  Technically there had been no breach in protocol, and as long as no one ever looked at that security tape, there would be no questions regarding the chain of custody and transportation of the eye.  Even then, the eye was never really out of sight or reach of the ME and the lead detective, even if they were paying absolutely no attention to it for a few minutes.  Spencer was certainly not going to be the one to make mention of it.  Sometimes you just knew to employ discretion.

“I will avoid embarrassing your boss, but I’m going to bust Kase’s balls over that one.”  Declan pointed at the screen where he could see Kase and Rena heading in.  There was no way he could pass that up.

“Just don’t cause a fight in the morgue and I honestly don’t give a shit.  He needs to have them busted for taking so long.”  Spencer chuckled then grew serious.  “Time to look like we’ve been doing something other than standing and watching what they were doing.”  He gave a brief chuckle then hit the button that started the video and audio recording in the room for evidentiary purposes, “beginning recording of examination of the human eye and attached partial ocular nerve that was delivered to the offices of the Cook County Assistant District Attorney Colin Masterson’s office….”  Spencer went on to record all the pertinent case information and details as he laid out the surgical instruments that Serena would need to perform the post mortem on the eye.  There was a great deal of procedural information that had to be recorded in just the right order and with just the right verbiage that Spencer could almost do it from memory except for the parts that changed.

When he heard the click of Serena unlocking the door to her private suite where the eye autopsy was to take place, he made a note of the time to the second, and paused the recording so that any chit chat wasn’t about to become public record. 

support banner - @cafekitsune

[ladykailitha]

Meet Me On the Dance Floor Part 1

Okay, we have now gotten a story I am most concerned with publishing as this is the one where my lack of knowledge is going to show the most. The first part was the original story and if you want, you can stop it there, no harm done. However from part 2-4 is where I take my leap of faith. It’s where we get into a headcanon I have about Mike regarding with how he treats Steve (I’ll put it in the tags for the final 3 parts) and it fits for the story, but I’m not sure if it will stick to the wall so to speak. Also the fourth part will be marked as mature, just heads up for sexy times (Steddie).

*

Steve was sleeping deeply for the first time in what felt like ages.

“Harrington,” someone said above him.

He just snuggled deeper into the covers.

“Steve,” the voice insisted.

He really didn’t want to wake up.

Someone shook him. “Come on, Stevie,” the voice said, warm and inviting.

Steve opened his eyes to see a worried Eddie leaning over him.

“Hey, man. There you are. I was getting worried. I thought you wanted to come with us tonight.”

Steve sat up in a rush. “Shit!” He rubbed his eyes trying to get his vision to clear. “What time is it?”

“6:37pm.”

Steve leapt from the bed, nearly knocking Eddie over. “Shit, shit, shit!” he scrambled to find the clothes he was going to wear. He looked over his shoulder. “Do you think I have time to shower?”

Eddie looked at his watch and winced. “Probably not.”

“Damn it.”

He dashed into the bathroom to at least put on deodorant. But when he went to spray himself, the can was empty. “Fuck!”

“I keep some cologne in the van for times when I smoke at school, I can grab it for you?” Eddie said from the doorway.

Steve sighed in relief. “That would be great. Thanks, dude.”

Eddie hurried out the van while Steve got dressed.

When Eddie came back he was shocked to see Steve’s outfit. He was wearing black dress pants, with a black t-shirt, and black suit jacket. He paired the outfit with his white sneakers. Around his neck was a simple silver chain that barely brushed his collar bones and he had a couple of chains on his belt.

“Looking good, Stevie,” Eddie said with a whistle.

Steve looked over at Eddie, who was wearing his tightest torn-up jeans with a black button up and dark grey vest. He had bangles on his wrists, and chains on his belt. He wore his black bandanna over his hair.

“I could say the same, Eddie,” Steve said with a grin.

Eddie tossed him the can of cologne and Steve gave himself a couple of sprays and tossed it back.

Eddie shoved it in his back pocket as he circled Steve. “I didn’t know you wore black, Stevie. You’ve been holding out on me.”

Steve blushed. “I haven’t worn this in a while, because it’s what I was wearing when Nancy broke up with me. But it’s the only thing I’ve got that’s club worthy and I’m ready to make new memories in tonight.”

Eddie stopped in front of him and tapped his lips with his finger. “It’s missing something.”

Steve looked down at himself and then back at Eddie hopelessly. “Yeah?”

“I’ve got it!” he cried. He pulled off one his rings and put it on Steve’s right hand. “There we go. It would be better if your ears were pierced but this should add just that right amount of style.”

Steve blushed, looking at the ring on his pinkie finger.

“You ready to go?” Eddie asked.

Steve looked up. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.”

*

Eddie slid into the back seat when they picked up Robin. “Nothing against Stevie being here, but we are going to a gay bar. Do we need a token straight for that?”

Steve and Robin shared a glance before they started laughing.

“Dude,” Steve said. “I thought you knew. I’m bisexual.”

Eddie raised both eyebrows.

“Dingus didn’t even want to come until I said you were coming,” Robin added.

Eddie could see that the back of Steve’s ears had gone bright red and figured his face matched.

“Partly,” Steve defended. “I went from no to maybe when she said you were coming.”

“So what made you decide to come?” Eddie asked as they pulled up to another house.

Steve laid on the horn and Will came barreling out the front door.

“For him,” Steve said quietly.

Eddie got it. Everyone knew Will was gay and everyone knew he had feelings for his best friend.

This whole night was about getting Will out of the straight, white Hawkins and to some place where he could meet other queers. Maybe even some his own age.

Eddie slid over to the opposite side window to give Will some room to get in.

“Hey, guys,” Will greeted shyly.

“You ready to have some fun?” Robin asked.

Will nodded.

“Good.” Steve smiled at his young friend through the rearview mirror.

*

When they got to the club, the music was bouncing and Robin bounced with it.

Steve pointed at the bar. “I’m going to be over there if you need me!” he shouted over the din.

Robin nodded.

Eddie watched Steve head to the bar. “What’s that about?”

“He doesn’t dance. Says he dances like a drunk Muppet!” Robin yelled. “Come on!”

She led them through the crowd and introduced them to some of her friends from college. Soon Will had relaxed enough to start dancing himself. Robin kept her eye on him, while Eddie kept his eye on Steve.

About half way through the night he nudged Robin. “That’s the fifteenth guy Steve has sent away. What the hell is telling them to get them back off so quickly?”

Robin raised an eyebrow. “Honestly?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah.”

“He’s telling them he’s bisexual.”

Eddie frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“This your first time at a gay bar?” Robin asked.

He shook his head. “I’ve been to a couple of others.”

“Well, you probably just didn’t notice,” she said. “Bisexuals get shit for being able to ‘pass as straight’,” she said putting air quotes around the last three words.

“Oh.”

Eddie looked over at Steve. “That must fucking suck. Not being able to fit anywhere.”

Robin shrugged, cocking her head to the side. “He says it weeds out the assholes.”

Eddie laughed. “It looks like he’s about to go through the whole fucking bar.”

“All but one,” Robin said, bumping his shoulder.

Eddie gulped.

“Go get him, tiger.”

Eddie looked over at Steve. He sitting on a barstool, leaning on the bar with both of his elbows, nursing a beer. His long legs were stretched out front of him. Eddie licked his lips. He could see why every gay man in the club was seeking him out, hoping for his attention.

Eddie moved through the crowd like a snake on the hunt. Weaving the through the throngs of people, silent and deadly. He licked his lips in anticipation.

Steve clocked him coming in and bit his bottom lip.

“King Steve, keeping court,” Eddie murmured when he got close enough for Steve to hear him.

Steve flashed him a brilliant smile. “Just waiting for my prince to come.”

Eddie looked around them. “Plenty of them out there tonight.”

Steve scoffed. “These frogs? Not hardly.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know about that. There are some pretty hot guys here just waiting for their chance with you.”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “Can you see the stars during the day?”

Eddie frowned. “Of course not, the sun’s out.”

Steve sat up and looked Eddie in the eye. “Exactly. Who can see all those glimmering stars when the sun is right here in front of me.”

Eddie blushed. “Yeah?” He put his hands on Steve’s thighs and gently pushed them apart so he could stand closer to him.

“Oh yeah,” Steve breathed.

Their faces were so close.

“I wanted to mark you so bad,” Eddie admitted. “A bite mark on your neck to show everyone you were taken. That you were mine.”

“But you already marked me as yours, Eds,” Steve said, breathless. “I’m wearing your cologne and your ring. They might not have known who I belonged to, but they knew I belong to someone. And now they can see who it is.”

“Stevie,” Eddie said, taking hold of the sides of Steve’s face and pressing their foreheads together.

Steve lifted his chin, bringing their lips together. Eddie let out a low moan swallowed up by the thumping music.

“I’ve been sitting here, hoping you’d ask me to dance,” Steve admitted.

Eddie chuckled. “Robin said you dance like a drunk Muppet.”

“Oh, I do,” Steve said softly. “But I don’t care what people think as long as I’m with you.” He finished his beer and set it on the bar top.

Eddie jutted his chin at the empty bottle. “How many of those have you had?”

“Just this one,” Steve said. “I’m driving. Elise has been kind enough to ply me with tonic water all night.” He thumbed the bartender behind him.

Elise eyed Eddie up and down. “You’ll do.”

He turned to Steve with a raised eyebrow.

Steve shrugged. “My best friends are lesbians, what can I say?”

Elise laughed. “Go on.” She swatted Steve with her towel. “You know I only tolerate you because you shove a twenty dollar bill in my tip jar at the start of the night.”

Steve laughed, and let Eddie lead him to the dance floor.

*

Robin watched Eddie make the moves on her best friend with a fond smile.

Will came up to her and asked, “Where’s Eddie?”

She pointed at the bar where Eddie and Steve were talking.

“About time,” Will muttered.

“I know, right?” she said with a giggle. She bumped his shoulder. “You having fun?”

Will nodded. “Thanks for taking me.”

“It’s good for you to go out meet with different kinds of queers,” Robin said. “Of all ages. Hawkins isn’t the end of the world, no matter how many times it tried to be.”

Will laughed. He watched as Eddie and Steve made it to the dance floor. “Oh god. He does dance like a drunk Muppet.”

“Yup.”

*Also if you want I can write the coda for the scene Robin asking Steve to come with if anyone is interested. It’s the scene that started the fic in my head I just couldn’t fit it in the actual story. Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

[tadfools]

Does anyone remember when I asked folks to proofread a few paragraphs for a fic the other day? I finished the whole thing and the link to it is here if anybody wants to give it a gander x

It's the act 1 Astarion bite but more dark urgey, a little bit of its under the cut

While she peeled the onions, Tavris could almost imagine it being the same as prying back the skin of a face. An agonizingly simple motion, a quick pull of the ear and one could achieve a clean removal to the other side.

It was almost enough to drown out the prattling of her fellow wizard, who in the few days since they met, decided he was to be the group’s resident cook. There was a twinge in the back of her mind when she thought that. Not the mutilation of a man meant to be her friend, but in the idea that he could be considered an equal to her in any regard.

The magic that Gale played with wasn’t worth killing. It was meant for show - to impress others that were better suited to die. Where Gale made a presentation of a flick of the wrist and bright colorful displays of sparks, she wielded pure, concentrated death in her hands… it wouldn’t have been that hard to rot the wizard’s flesh. Honestly, she should’ve cut his hand off when she had the chance.

None of that was within a line of thinking Tavris wanted to be anywhere near. She wanted to listen Gale’s stories of Waterdeep and learn how he casted spells like an art show.

It was easier to raise a corpse and have it an answer a string of questions than it was for her to produce a simple flame in the palm of her hand. Even in the fight against the gnolls, she wanted to lunge at them with a dagger instead of sending a bolt of radiant energy towards them from a distance. Why was that? Why was holding the sun within her hand more difficult than a wad of necrosis?

The headache which never fully left her thrummed in time with her heartbeat. A steady rhythm of blood which serenaded her in quiet moments. It was maddening. What had she done before the nautiloid to be cursed with the inability to sit in silence for even a moment? Tavris took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. If it was that painful to focus within, she would focus out.

The fire dying down, Karlach’s snoring, Shadowheart – or perhaps Wyll tossing in their bedroll, the river flowing away from them, frogs croaking and crickets chirping and the sound of… leaves crunching.

Crunching leaves that were all but muffled within the other sounds of the night. Had she not been actively listening, the footfalls would have gone unnoticed.

The events that happen next came in quick succession, almost as if another being had taken control of her completely. The rustling got ever-so louder; the hairs in the back of her neck stood on end - a signal to a predator that a fool was attempting to make her prey. Tavris spun around with her hands clutched into fists with her pinky and pointer fingers extended on both hands so that a small ball of necrotic energy crackled between the them.

“Shit.” Astarion was less than a foot from her, eyes wide – almost manic.

“That’s all you have to say?” Tavris clenched her fist, the green energy growing brighter to the point it numbed the sides of her fingers and top of her knuckles. She stood to her full height in one motion, shoulders square as she stalked towards him until Astarion was backed against a pine tree. He was a full head taller than her but, in the moment, seemed so, so small.

[southernbluebellereader]

Could I request the 141 taskforce x reader with skin problems like eczema or psoriasis. If not maybe a x reader thats self conscious about their vitiligo

Little Butterfly

A/N: Hi Bestie! Thank you for this! Both my mother and I have psoriasis (mine's more limited to my scalp). But I'll include vitiligo as well. I'll do my best! Side note, I started writing something, but I overcomplicated it, so here is this. I'm sorry if it sucks lol

Master List (tag list at the bottom)

Task Force 141 (Price, Simon, Johnny, Kyle) x GN! Reader with Psoriasis & Vitiligo

Warnings: skin conditions; self-conscious; a sprinkle of angst; a sprinkle of fluff; and a whole lotta love; PLATONIC; SFW)

General Description of Appearance: Vitiligo patches on their temples, kinda looks like little (butterfly) wings, the rest is mostly on their back. Plaque Psoriasis is spread throughout their body (covers about 10% of their body, localized on their scalp, chest, and hands).

Captain John Price

The only one who knows the extent of psoriasis and vitiligo, because he's El Capitán.

Nicknamed you "Butterfly"

You hated that.

Stopped calling you that when you made a face.

He's the first to know when you have a flare up so you can spend the day resting, taking a saltwater bath, etc.

Has heard the words, but doesn't know squat shit about psoriasis or vitiligo, but it scares the shit out of him when you're out in the sun.

Always makes sure you got sunscreen, makes sure he has a bottle of SPF 75 on him and makes sure the rest of the team has the same.

Took way too long putting sunscreen on your back because he was looking at your vitiligo.

"Captain are you done yet??"

"o-Oh yeah, I'm done, sorry."

Helps you put ointment on your scalp

Got scared as hell when he saw you shed dead skin.

Gets on to you for picking on your skin, but is very much intrigued by it.

Keeps the rest of the team at bay in case they ask about your whereabouts or get onto you with nicknames or even ask you about your psoriasis.

Reads more about it. Probably knows more about it more than you do at this point, like Johnny.

Lt. Simon "Ghost" Riley

Like Captain Price, doesn't know squat shit about vitiligo or psoriasis

No. He genuinely doesn't know what either of those words mean until you asked him if y'all could stop by one of the nurse's stations to pick up some meds and overheard you talking to the nurse about your psoriasis.

He watched as you showed the nurse your hands and the back of your ears, seeing little red patches on them. He made a mental note of it, but didn't ask, despite his curiosity.

Noticed that you'd not show up to certain (de)briefings, or trainings. Didn't think of it at first, then asked Price about it, who just said not to worry about it.

Keeps calling you "Birdy" - also stopped when you made a face. Gives death glares that shoot lasers when someone else nicknames you anything remotely related to a bird, insect, or other winged creature.

Got really worried when he caught you in the gym alone and he saw the rest of your vitiligo and more of your psoriasis.

"Y/N, are you ok? Go to the doctor now."

"W-What, why?"

He pointed at your skin, "Doctor. Now."

"Are you serious? It's my psoriasis, Simon..."

"Your w-what?"

"Psoriasis." His eyes widened when you showed him up close. Then turned around and showed him your back, "Vitiligo. The medicine I picked up the other day is for my psoriasis."

Still confused. You briefly explained what they were and a lightbulb went off in his head.

Again still confused, but was more alert of how you behaved regarding the two, especially your psoriasis.

Shoved his bottle of sunscreen in your face that he got from Price when he knows y'all are going to spend a lot of time outside.

Barely lets you go outside when y'all are in Las Almas without getting on to you.

Sgt. Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

Knows exactly what psoriasis is, has a cousin that has it, so he's very familiar with it. But doesn't ask any questions.

Gives you weird ass advice about how to deal with it because he doesn't think the medicines you take for your psoriasis will actually help.

Like Price, freaks out when you shed dead skin

Unlike Price and Simon, does not call you a nickname and is ready to fight if someone looks at you sideways

Guard Dog

Will put sunscreen on you without you asking

Laughs at you when you get mad at him

"Yer skin is your biggest organ, Lad/Lassie, need to protect it."

If and when he accompanies you to pick up your ointments, he'll argue with the nurse or doctor to make sure you get the right one or that it's too strong, to it's not wrong enough.

Like he's ready to fight the doctor about it.

When y'all are bored, you let him color in the little vitiligo patches on your back - think "Elmer the Patchwork Elephant" by David McKee

Sgt. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Also has no clue what either skin condition is, but is respectful and says nothing.

Caught you having a flare up and dragged you to the nurse, then felt bad when both you and the nurse scolded him,

Literally has no clue what to do - thus making you feel even more stressed out, which freaks him out even more

both of you are stressin

freaking out

Price has to come in and calm both of y'all down

Price put Kyle in a time out while he makes sure you're ok

Gets a booklet from Price to learn about psoriasis.

Apologizes, and asks a lot of questions and makes sure you're ok, especially when you have flare ups.

Still gets freaked out.

Does not want to help you with your ointment, but will watch when Johnny or Price helps you

Asks way too many questions

Thinks your vitiligo is cute - accidentally called you his little giraffe and Simon and Johnny nearly shot lasers out they eyes while Price covered your ears.

Kyle knows not to call you any nicknames. Doesn't even think it.

Like the others, will shot lasers out his eyes if anyone even thinks about calling you a nickname.

Literally thinks you're made of glass and sometimes forget you're a whole ass soldier.

Anyways.

Everybody:

Eventually

Against your will, but you just sigh and accept it

Your nickname will be "Butterfly"

Price will call you his/the team's "Little Butterfly" - we all know you're his Little Butterfly

Johnny and Kyle will call you "Fly" to mess with you

Simon will smack the back of their heads.

You are "Butterfly"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List

@ateliefloresdaprimavera @galagcica @sweetybuzz25 @wisedinosaurpolice @itsasecrets-things @ronbon @lieutenantlashfaz @piper570 @shuttlelauncher81 @thanksbutno98 @gabriellathegreat @kult6 @loadedberetta @sarahs-secrets2 @whore4dilfs @addy3114 @ollie71526483 @blueoorchid

[jaxteller87]

Morning After

I woke up to the faint morning light streaming through the blinds, casting a warm glow through the long curtains. I walked over to the dark oak dresser and checked the time. Amber was still fast asleep in our four-post bed. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as I quietly made my way across the hardwood floor and down to the kitchen. I had just reached for the freshly brewed coffee when my phone started going off.

“Jax, listen up,” Clay’s voice came through, “I got something important I need you and Juice to take care of today.”

Jax leaned back against the wall, “Alright, what’s going on?”

“I need you guys to meet with Laroy,” Clay said.

“The Niners?” I asked.

“Yeah, little change of plans. We’re setting up a deal to get some AK’s from the Irish, but to do that, they want to offload some handguns to the Niners.”

“Okay, so what do you want us to do?” I asked.

“I want you to convince Laroy that it’d be smart if he took the deal from the Irish,” Clay explained, “I don’t think you’ll have any problems.”

“I thought you, Tig, and Bobby were workin’ the angle with the Niners. I was supposed to take care of some business at Cara Cara today. Can it wait?”

“If you’re busy today, do it tonight. Listen, Jax, we need those guns, and we need them now,” he emphasized, “I trust you can put your personal shit aside and focus on the club. That’s not too much to ask, right VP?” he sarcastically quipped.

“Not at all, Clay. We’ll handle it tonight,” I responded.

“That’s what I like to hear,��� Clay’s tone softened slightly. “Meet with Laroy at their hangout spot. You know the place. I’ll text you the specifics.”

I nodded, even though Clay couldn’t see me. “We’ll get it done.”

“Good. Call me after,” Clay said, hanging up the phone.

“Jax?” Amber called out from the bedroom.

“Comin’ babe,” I answered, pouring us some coffee.

Amber and I had shared a special night together, and I wanted the day after to be just as memorable for her.

With two cups of coffee in hand, I carefully made my way back to our bedroom. Amber lay peacefully in bed, looking just as beautiful as ever. I placed the cups on the dresser and climbed back into bed, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek.

“Good morning, darlin’,” I greeted her with a smile.

“Hi,” she mumbled, her smile growing as she snuggled closer to me.

“Ooo, coffee,” she exclaimed, spotting the cups.

“Here ya go, my love,” I said, handing her a cup as we both sat up in bed.

“Thank you,” she replied, taking a sip, “do you have any plans for today?” she asked.

“No, my day is free to spend with you. We could spend all day in bed; if you want to take the bike out, we can do that. Maybe get ice cream, a burger, whatever you want,” I suggested, kissing the back of her hand. Of course, I wasn’t going to bring up the Niner business, and Cara Cara wouldn’t take me too long to deal with. I just needed to sign some paperwork regarding the security room we’re installing.

“Hmm, I’m not sure. Just being lazy today sounds nice,” she said, a contented smile on her lips.

I sensed that she wanted to ask me something, but she seemed unsure how to approach it.

“Go ahead; if you have a question about last night, I’m all ears,” I chuckled, planting a tender kiss on her forehead.

“Was it okay for you?” she asked quietly, her gaze fixed on her cup.

I gently lifted her chin, making her look at me directly. “Amber, it was the best night of my life. I mean it,” I reassured her as best I could.

“And did you get enough cuddles and forehead kisses afterward?” I teased playfully, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“Yes, it was wonderful, Teller,” she giggled. “But were you…you know… satisfied? Was there something I could have done more of or better, maybe?”

“No, you did just perfect. Everything was fantastic, believe me.”

“It was perfect,” she wrapped her arms around me.

“That’s good because I want you to be just as satisfied as me afterward,” I squeezed her back.

We lay there quietly for a while, her fingers gently tracing patterns up and down my arm. The intimacy of being naked together, simply cuddling, brought a new level of closeness to our relationship.

“Don’t get me wrong, snuggling with you before was wonderful,” she said, looking up at me.

“But cuddling naked is a whole other level of awesome,” I smirked, looking down at her. She nodded, a wide smile spreading across her face as she giggled softly. I laughed, unable to resist the urge to kiss the top of her head.

“I love you, Teller. Thank you for making last night so special,” she whispered.

“I love you too, darlin’,” I paused for a moment, “but…”

“But!?” she blurted out alarmingly.

“But I’m going to make tonight even better,” I teased.

[thebadtimewolf]

this was is my drafts at 2:40 am. i have nearly 200 and most are pictures of billie so this has to go.

yall need yall ears checked.

15 said what he said: i am better because you (14) got better so go do it. which means all that trauma 14 went through 13, 12, 11, its got processed and grieved and he stood still and has a family to call home to hes an uncle hes a stepson hes a best friend and has a dad and not alone and not running and finally just breathe he os now more open hes going to continue (and we see literally 15 does shows signs that not only is he not haunted by what 14 is currently going through but is more jovial more jovial than 9 ever was).

He cant skip out on it because the nobles wont let him and 15 definitely wont: hes finally finally stopped running. Living the day by day, not running from danger to danger to danger to danger to danger - something we havent seen since 4 k9 and romana ii: a doctor sitting tf down and going 'wtf this shit bonkers!'

how do they both - how did dhawan!dr run around while his corpse is in the glass box. WE JUST EXPLAINED THAT THE DR ISNT GALLIFREYAN.

stop discounting timeless child stop ignoring flux, all the so called gallifreyan myths about regeneration were put in place by tecteun to stamp out any of the dr's hope and those that wished to follow in their steps and it failed in real time. All those types of regeneration? Those were all the dr because they ARE THE SOURCE OF IT THEY HAD IT ON RECORD. Bi regeneration - means that timeless child has done this before in one of tecteun FORCED AND MEMORY WIPED experiments.

Anything that is considered to be a myth in regards to what a time lord can and cant do needs to be under a heavily different lens. Because its not what a time lord cant or can do, its what a Gallifreyan granted with regeneration can and cant do but what the Doctor/Timeless could do on a whim that the rest have to struggle to replicate with their regeneration cycles.

'but toymaker said he-- ' so has clara, great intelligence, 4th and or 8th dr, tecteun, rasillion, gallifreyan society, daleks anyone that are in the audios HES NOT SPECIAL JUST BECAUSE OF WHAT?? he killed torvic and mind swaped the memory of it to the dr?? he made dr time's champion so time would spare them even though in turnn wiping the dr's mind about said encounter? girl toymaker rearranging the drs history aint special. its not. hes 60 YEARS LATE in participating a already-turned in group project. which im betting its the 4 x river audios where 4 knows river when he should not at all.

you see how david watched matt,peter,jodie AND HES HIGHLY LIKELY GOING TO WATCH THIS AND NCUTIS? you see how ncuti ALSO WATCHES THIS? YOU SEE HOW THEY DONT SKIP NONE AFTER NINE? and these eps are short without ads.

yeah do that. that way you know exactly who and what and why and when and where the reference ks being referenced and the character progression had been from point a to current.

dont be surprised if ryan gosling decides to be the next dr since we have three gigantic whovians also be the dr.

note: if anne hathaway and or tatiana maslany becomes the next or later dr they are actively stealing my 2010 shit alk because of a gifset i made.

[addcests]

the perfect mask

the perfect mask [ao3]

pairing Overmind x the other three adds (if you squint hard enough and believe)

words 1909

summary Having the perfect mask was a necessary skill Overmind honed over time. Carefully crafting his veneer for the day, a facade he would then don for everyone to see. It took a lot to compose himself this way. But it also took even more to get under Overmind’s skin. 

Unfortunately, who would know better to get under his skin than himself?

It all began with that pesky time deviant, of course. 

-

“Overmind!” 

And his voice was far too delighted than Overmind cared for.

“Paradox!” he returned with just as much energy, his smile hopefully not as strained as it felt. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked, shifting his gaze down to the smaller form of his.

He didn’t like how Paradox watched him, his eyes owlish as he regarded him longer in silence and then he smiled.

“You know, there's no audience for you to play for."

“I am unsure what you could possibly mean.”

Paradox didn’t seem phased by his none too subtle deflection at all and jumped topics as if it were nothing, “Overmind! Can you hold up two fingers?”

Overmind already felt like he shouldn’t, as a sort of nagging formed at the back of his thoughts that maybe Paradox was up to no good but of course, instead, he complied. 

Paradox stood back and narrowed his eyes as if straining to see. “Hmm, it’s hard to make out.”

“Paradox, you asked me to hold up two fingers.” Overmind then held up three fingers.

“And that’s still two, right?”

Overmind could feel a slight crack in his mask, as he smiled again, lips pulled tighter than before. He was being toyed with, wasn't he? “Paradox, surely even you can see how many fingers I’m holding up. If that is all, I think I should be on my way.” And Overmind promptly turned on his heel, and paced away, a scowl already replacing the way too plastic smile he showed Paradox.

“Overmind, don’t leave yet. I’m having trouble seeing things. You can fix it right?”

Honestly, Overmind figured if Paradox could not see a simple finger count from less than five feet away, then Paradox had bigger issues at hand. (And he did have way bigger issues at hand.) He hardly got to finish the thought nor ponder what the pesky dimension traveler was up to when a rather bold hand wrapped around his wrist to stop him and then tug him back. “Paradox—!” And he was whirled back, not of his own accord, his eyes dropping down to level with the smaller Paradox. Or at least, that’s what he should have done but instead his gaze immediately shot up, seeing Paradox’s taller form almost towering over him as he closed the space between them. “Paradox,” he tried again, doing his best to keep the stutter from his alarmed voice.

“I said I couldn’t see Overmind,” and Paradox’s grin turned shit-eating, as he leaned in, leaving hardly a gap between both of their bodies, “maybe you should come closer, doctor.” 

-

Overmind wasn’t sure how, but he managed to escape Paradox. His cackling was still ringing in his ears, even now.

“Overmind?” Doom Bringer asked. 

Ah, right, he had Doom Bringer to thank for that he supposed, coming to find him as he tended to about this hour of the day. “It’s nothing. Besides, it was about that time now anyway, was it not?” To which Overmind was referring to the regular check-ups he had set scheduled for Doom Bringer. He was a rather—and Overmind stopped, sparing a glance Doom Bringer’s way to watch him pull his shirt overhead to reveal muscles defined from years and years of strenuous training—fine specimen after all, and if the brawler wanted to subject himself to his myriads of testing, who was he to refuse? 

“Yer doing the thing again,” Doom Bringer grunted.

And what did that mean? Why did everyone seem so inclined to pick at him today? 

Overmind elected to ignore it, knowing Doom Bringer wouldn’t push and he didn’t. “So, how are you? Did you change anything in your regimen? The results are still the same, no variables altered?”

“Nope, nothin’ changed. Ah, before we started though, I did sort of get banged up from being a bit careless, so…” Doom Bringer trailed off, a lone shoulder shrugging helplessly.

Well, that wouldn’t do. He needed Doom Bringer to be in tip top shape, or at least to be form perfect enough that it wouldn’t change his desired results. “How much is ‘banged up’?” Overmind began looking Doom Bringer over from afar, and then closer. A hand trailing along his forearms, fingers gliding over taut muscle, twitching under his touch. His touch stayed clinical in nature. Overmind hummed, “I see nothing. You don’t react to pain from my touch.” 

Doom Bringer grunted again, watching Overmind work. “Suppose maybe the bruises were a week or so ago, my bad.” He then hopped onto the examining table and leaned his weight back. “I think I did feel something… hard a while ago though.” 

Did he perhaps mean a lump of some sort? Was he swelling somewhere? Overmind followed him, drawing closer once more. “Do you remember where?” Again, Overmind began mapping along his body, not seeing any bruises nor feeling anything out of place. His hands traveled back up along his forearms, and then ran down, smoothing over hard abs and down to his waist. With not much to go from, Overmind clucked his tongue in annoyance and pulled back. “How very careless of you, Psyker. To forget where you were injured. It must not be that important—”

“No, I remember. It was lower.”

Accordingly, Overmind lowered his hands more, fingertips able to feel how the muscle of Doom Bringer’s thigh flexed under his touch. “Did you perhaps strain a quadricep?” To test his theory, he applied pressure to the area, squeezing none too gently and felt how Doom Bringer’s leg jumped at that. “You couldn’t have torn it.” He kept mental notes as he went along, applying pressure as the brawler gave no further input, bodily or otherwise. Wondering why the other had fallen so silent, however, he finally lifted his eyes, and was met with a smirking Doom Bringer.

“It’s around the area, but you’ll hav’ to get a little closer than that, Overmind. Want me t’ show you?”

-

Dominator’s lab was a solace after running into the pesky duo earlier. (He would be lying if he said he didn’t remember the feeling of Paradox’s lips being a breath away that certainly did not make him tremble and the warmth of Doom Bringer’s skin that he could feel even through his gloves that he ached to learn again.)

“Hoh, and what brings you to my little humble corner?” 

Despite his lab being perfect, Overmind couldn’t relax around him. The mask was back in full force now. “I was interested in seeing your automations again. I think I could use them to my advantage.”

Overmind waited for Dominator to pick at him too, just like the others. But that never came. Just a little nonchalant shrug of his shoulder and a mug brought to his lips for a drink of coffee. After a small sip, he faced Overmind and nodded his head in the other direction. “Sure, we may as well exchange our data up to this point too, then.”

Perhaps, he didn’t need to keep his mask wound so tightly around him.

“Gladly.”

>

It was a welcome relief and perhaps that was why he lowered his guard, if only for a moment.

“How do you deal with those two all of the time?” 

“Yes?” Dominator hummed in response, distracted, eyes carefully trained on holographic windows of scrolling numbers and data.”Do you mean Psyker and Paradox? Did they get to you?” He paused, flickering his wrist to disperse the window, and then turning to Overmind with a hand on his hip, “Again?” 

Well, perhaps that’s why he hadn’t felt the need to keep his mask up for so long, despite wanting to out of habit. Sometimes, Dominator could read him, see right through it. “Absolutely irritating,” he mumbled, gaze drifting to some unimportant hunk of scrap to their far side. He did not make a point to make clear if he was referring to Dominator reading him as he did or the two troublemakers from earlier. Snorting rather ungracefully, he continued,  “Anyhow, they both seemed to be in on it. Whatever it was.”

“Oh?” The scientist prompted again, listening attentively. 

“They would…” Overmind refused to believe his cheeks were warm enough to flush, but, recalling the earlier events caused heat to color his face. “Make passes, of sorts. And, anyway!” Not wanting to linger on that, he pressed on, “They seemed to be in on these preposterous jokes of theirs. Even bothering me throughout the rest of the day with them. I am certain of it.”

Dominator suppressed a chuckle, a gloved hand hiding his mouth. “That does sound like them, yes. Well, what sort of things would they say?” He then stood and moved some distance away, picking at this part and that, searching for some part Overmind had needed.

Overmind sighed into his palm, resting his cheek in his hand. Did it matter what they had said? It wasn’t as if he forgot, but he didn’t want to repeat half the things the two had said to him through the course of the day. Especially not to Dominator. Instead, he turned his attention to the various display screens and all its numbers fluctuating. He decided to change the topic then, “Dominator, what do you make of this—?” 

Dominator had quite the height advantage over him as he was sitting. Leaning over his shoulder, scarf tickling his cheeks, the scientist dropped to his ear and murmured, “What’s twelve inches long and hangs in front of an asshole? Well, Overmind? Care to find out?” Fingers curled into Overmind’s bangs, nudging them away from his cheek, knuckles brushing his face tenderly.

The juxtaposition of it all made Overmind freeze and then startle.

“—Dominator!?” 

It was almost comical how Dominator’s free hand pried Overmind’s hand away from his cheek and dropped the part he’d been asking for into the center of his hand instead. “It’s a stethoscope. Haa, why are you making that face?” Dominator grinned, pleased as a cat. “Did they happen to use that one on you already? I’m afraid that’s the only one I recall. Wait, Overmind, where are you going already? We didn’t finish the reports for the data, yet.” 

-

Later that evening, they were all sitting around the dining room table: Dominator at center, equipped with a new cup of coffee, Paradox to his left, poking at Dominator’s cake, hoping to steal a piece without his noticing, and Doom Bringer watching Paradox’s attempts as he took a swig of water.

Overmind entered, his smile pristine and crisp, watching the scene unfold before him with a hand on his hip. He then announced, “I have determined you are all dying very soon and don’t have much time left.”

Doom Bringer and Dominator both exchanged confused stares. 

Paradox, however, was giddy despite the sudden clinical approach of a morbid topic and humored Overmind, “Really?! Whatever do you mean?”

“Ten.”

Dominator asked, “Ten what?”

Doom Bringer followed up, “Ten months? Weeks?” He counted off.

“Ten, nine, eight—”

Overmind never saw them run so fast.

[night-garden-fic]

Chapter Eight: A Toast to One's Ghosts

(Read on AO3)

"...You know, that's a great idea.  I don't think I've made a snow ghost since I was your age."

Chapter Eight: A Toast to One's Ghosts

     "...Are you all right, darling?  Should we stop?"

     No.  Never.

     Once again, Russell had found himself in the muffled privacy of Lady Ann's kitchen, drifting in a placid fog as the Lady herself undid him deliciously.  This time, she had him secured bolt upright to one of her fine, simple wooden chairs; hands bound behind his his back as she straddled him, their bodies and faces heartbreakingly close as she whispered an inchoate litany of praises, orders and encouragements directly into the whorls of his ears.

     "...What?  Of course not."

     Her dark sheaf of hair was wantonly freed from its usual severe ponytail, and fell about both their faces, obscuring the room around them.  Russell wanted to dissolve into those sweet shadows, into the exquisite softness of her skin.  But sadly, she pulled herself away, regarding his face as she cradled it in both hands.  He felt his glasses begin to slip down his nose, but Lady Ann delicately repositioned them.

     "It's just..."

     For a moment, he feared he had done something wrong, had somehow failed to serve her.

     "...Hmm?"

     Cautiously, she ran a delicate thumb across his mouth, then held it up for inspection.

     "You're bleeding, love."

     Shit.

     Russell's tongue darted out cautiously, tasting iron and salt on his lips.  Suddenly, he was aware that his head was filled with the scent of it; wet, meaty, faintly oceanic.

     "Oh...  Yeah.  That's been...  Happening."

     Lady Ann tilted her head slightly, a gesture at once quizzical and sympathetic.  Russell noticed that, at some point during their encounter, three garnet droplets had collided with her skin, standing out vividly against the creamy flesh of her breasts.  His breath quickened at the sight of it, but he didn't know how this would be received.

     "Your medicine?"

     And the weather.

     He still figured that wasn't entirely untrue, but was relieved not to need an excuse with her.

     "Probably, yeah."

     A small, sedate laugh.  Russell felt her slender, surprisingly strong legs contracting around him.

     "I still can't believe you've been taking it through the nose...  Like that poor guy in that awful book.  I mean, I assume you've-"

     She had begun running her fingers through his hair, which felt both playful and profoundly comforting.  Above all, it seemed natural, which in itself put him at ease.

     "...Where do you think I got the idea?"

     Now both of them were laughing together, which wasn't enough to distract Russell from the fact that he was practically inside of her.  Lady Ann didn't seem to notice, but that may have been part of her game.

     "I swear, you and your books...  You're going to get hurt if you think you can just try out everything you read."

     I think I already have.

     "...Maybe I don't mind getting hurt?"

     His eyes met hers, hectic and challenging, an obvious dare that he knew she couldn't resist.

     Lady Ann had obviously detected the bait, but still seemed uncharacteristically hesitant.

     "You say that, but...  Look.  I'm serious.  We don't have to keep going, if you'd rather clean yourself up and rest for a while."

     Russell licked his lips again.  The flow didn't seem concerningly strong, but showed no signs of stopping.

     And that isn't the only thing that isn't stopping...

     "I mean... I'm pretty used to it, and it'll stop on its own in a few minutes.  I don't mind, if it's not a problem for you."

     By way of answer, Lady Ann leaned in and passionately kissed the still-warm blood off his lips.  When she pulled away, her mouth was stained as red as a healthy beating heart.  It parted in a mischievous, lusty smile.

     "Not at all...  I have to admit, it looks good on you."

     The feeling that filled him then was almost like panic, but much sweeter, much stranger.  Russell desperately wanted to embrace her, to enter her at last.  All that passion, running up against his bound limbs like a crazed moth slamming into a blazing lantern.

     "...You don't say?"

     She leaned in again, deft tongue lapping away a fresh layer of blood, then invading his hot, red mouth with a surprising gentleness.

     "I do say...  Looks like you might be tougher than you seem, y'know?  Looks like you've been fighting."

     She punctuated this by burying her fists in Russell's hair and tugging hard, the sensation making his head spin.  Still, in the middle of that raging cyclone, he managed to shoot her a shy smile.

     "...Well, maybe I have been."

     One woman's come-on is another man's metaphor.

     Lady Ann kissed him again—harder and quicker this time—then paused to catch her breath.

     "...Oh yeah?  Did you win?"

     (If I did, would I even know?)

     "Believe me...  You wouldn't want to see the other guy."

~*~

     Midwinter had arrived.

     For Russell, this was often a season of agonizing stillness.

     A season of numbly mimicking the sun as it struggled over the horizon each morning, beginning its dizzying plummet in the middle of the day.  Of his typically agile mind growing leaden and sluggish, so dull and oblivious that he scarcely noticed as his aching body shivered a solid half-inch of flesh off his ribs.  The season of Tori filling in for him in the mornings, of Cecilia physically dragging him out of bed to help her make a snow-Wooly.

     And, once upon a time, of Sabrina writing off the prime morning fishing hours; staying in bed to hold him until well into the afternoon on those days when he simply couldn't bring himself to rise with the tired winter sun.

     It feels different this time.

     Russell couldn't quite place what it was, but this winter had a strange quality.  Less like the heavy muffle of snow, and more like the gleaming hard edges of pure, clear ice.

     The familiar numbing and dulling of the brain still came around like clockwork, as it always had, but it now seemed to bring with it a troubling recklessness.  He supposed he could compare himself to a frozen river; the dangerous quiet of water rushing frantically just beneath the still, glassy surface.

     Behind his still, glassy eyes, Russell could feel a similar force, ever threatening to sweep him out to sea.

     He felt it when he went to pluck a few flowers from Lady Ann's garden, then lingered for a while in her bedroom or kitchen, daring her to do things to him—to really make him hurt this time—until even she seemed a bit uncertain of what he was asking of her.

     He felt it when he briefly met up with Sabrina, by chance or to collect Cecilia, and let himself begin to flirt a little, as long as nobody else was around.

     He felt it when he saw Lynette watching him from the corner of the room, and a voice in his mind began to whisper, "say something to her."

     And he felt it—perhaps most sharply—when he fought his way out from under the covers each morning; beginning the day with a tidy quarter-dose of sparkling powder and a heavy slug from the bottle that had come to stand on his headboard.

     Russell wasn't quite sure when or how he'd begun to break the strict either-or rule that he'd been so carefully maintaining.  Likely, it was something as innocuous as one glass of wine too many with a dinner that had begun an hour too late, followed by a night of particularly stubborn alertness.

     In any case, he quickly realized that he wasn't doing immediate damage.  Though, by then the habit was already becoming entrenched, so what did it really matter?

     Indeed, it felt almost sensible.

     During his years in Kardia, Russell had built up a considerable tolerance to both substances, and often found that he wasn't getting out what he put in, not like he used to.  But together, they seemed to enhance and intensify each other; taking him back to a time when, though he was undeniably in rougher shape, he could at least chase relief without finding himself left winded in the dust of his own sorrows.

     Deep down, he recognized that he was on a dangerous path.

     But, after months of stumbling around in the dark, it was enough that he could—if dimly—see any path at all.

     You won't have the sense to get off it when the time comes, will you?

     He could smile at his daughter, and mean it.

     Have you realized you're getting lax about watching her again?

     He could direct his assistant, and feel confident that he was understood.

     Tori panicked that day when your nose wouldn't stop bleeding, remember?

     Most nights, he could sleep.

     And what about the nights you still can't?

     Most days, he could read.

     Good enough.

~*~

     And so, borne along on that ominous path of little resistance, there came the day that Russell found himself turning the final page.

     The strangest part was, he hadn't really been expecting it.  The war, of course, was still ongoing—it always was, in one form or another—so the recount ended on such a vague note that running up against the index and bibliography was a bit jarring.

     Oh.  I guess that's all.

     (This feels familiar, doesn't it?)

     Still, it was finished.  Without ceremony or anticipation, but finished nonetheless.

     That was the whole point of all this, wasn't it?

     So why don't I feel anything?

     (Who said you would?)

     Still feeling nothing, Russell removed his twin scraps of paper from between the pages and threw them away.  Then, rather impulsively, he took one last look at the uncertain ink stain of his younger self.

     Goodbye, I guess.

     (I hope I never have to see you again.)

     He stared at the image for a few moments, then closed the book with unusual care.  Imagined, for a moment, that he was putting that poor lost boy to rest once and for all; tried to ignore all the parts of himself that he knew, at heart, would forever be eighteen years old and bent painfully crooked.

     His book is closed.  I can't rewrite him.  No more than I could unwind time.

     It was a Holiday, so the Library was closed to visitors, and Tori was home at the farm, presumably reading under a warm, heavy quilt.  So Russell filed and shelved the volume himself; creating a card for the catalog in his own blocky, somewhat frenetic hand, then slipping the book between the other thorny tomes he'd fought through, bidding goodbye to all their forts and generals and dates and maneuvers.

     All business that, he reminded himself, was of no concern to him.  Not anymore.

     What now?

     In all honesty, he wasn't quite sure.

     There were other books that had come along in the same shipment; beautifully illustrated biology texts, thrilling compendiums of rare myths, guides to the stars, a few novels and volumes of poetry.  What's more, a whole other shipment had arrived since, and Russell was yet to even open the crate, so who knew what it might hold?  Certainly, wonders of much more interest than some dry cataloging of his own miserable experiences.

     He held all that potential in his hand, examined it in all its sparkle and intricacy, then let it sift lazily through his fingers and back into the still air of the room.

     I'll start tomorrow, with a fresh mind.

     Of course, this still left him with the remains of the afternoon, and the whole long evening, to fill as he liked.  With what, he didn't know, but he was sure he'd find something.

     Russell lingered in indecision for several minutes, and was just about to pull an old favorite novel off the shelf when the Library's door banged open, giving him a mild scare.

     "Hi, daddy!"

     The sight of his daughter immediately calmed his racing heart.

     "...Well, hello there, Ceci."

     Nicholas, of course, wasn't far behind.

     "Hey Russell!"

     The young boy followed his friend through the Library, their small boots leaving a trail of grimy water on the scuffed tile floors.  Russell couldn't help but smile at them, and the sudden life they had brought into the room.

     "Hello, Nicky.  You two need something?"

     Fortunately, Nicholas had never been one to mince words.

     "Can I stay over with Ceci tonight?"

     Russell expected the usual twinge of apprehension, but found it strangely absent.

     "Well, um..."

     Cecilia plopped down in Russell's chair, leaning her elbows on the desk.

     "I asked Sabrina if I could stay over, and she told us to go ask you instead...  Said I'm over there all the time, and you miss me.  And that she already made us lunch."

     Nicholas nodded somberly.

     "Mom needs a rest."

     Hearing that serious tone from such a mischievous little person made Russell laugh.

     "I bet...  You two can run a person ragged.  But yes...  You can stay.  Just go tell your mom I said yes, all right?"

     The children broke into unintelligible cheers, then took off out of the Library and down the street, bearing good news.

     Russell braced himself for the evening ahead.

~*~

     Alone in the Library once more, Russell took the opportunity to compose himself.

     He went to the kitchen, splashed his face with warm water, took down another bottle of cheap wine, and poured himself a generous glass.  He sipped it standing over the sink as he gazed out the small, dingy kitchen window.  The view was rather unimpressive; obscured by the patterns of frost, and by the last few aged-brown leaves of the summer's brambles clinging to the thin glass.

     Still, he took it all in; watching as the low, tired sun fought its way through the heavy clouds.  All that just to illuminate a set of uneven, rather neglected-looking stepping stones, and the few sad yards of dead weeds and flat mud that passed for the Library's back garden.

     Isn't looking outside supposed to make people feel better?

     Russell turned his back to the window, dutifully fighting off the melancholy with a straightened back and another sip of wine.

     Tonight, he decided, he wouldn't give in.

     He'd be present.  He'd be attentive.  He'd try to come up with things to do, instead of just offering the kids books and then letting them run wild when their attention wandered.  He would pick up everything he had felt himself dropping lately, and he'd do it all in one go.

     Sabrina manages.  Why can't I?

     Left alone, he probably could have come up with a thousand and one reasons, each bringing with it a thousand and one reasons of its own.

     But, before he had the chance, the children returned; banging cheerily into the Library, in need of attention and play.  As he stepped back into the main room, Russell found himself smiling, without even thinking to practice.

     "Hey again, you two...  How's your mom, Nicky?"

     Nicholas fiddled with his boots.

     "She's good...  She tells you hi!"

     Russell fetched a scruffy wool hat and its matching gloves from their resting place on his desk, slipping them on rather hastily.

     "Well, then you'll have to remember to tell her I say hi, too.  And don't take off your boots just yet...  How about we all go outside for a little while?"

     The idea, as he'd anticipated, proved popular.  The kids were out the door so fast that they forgot to close it behind them, so Russell kicked it shut as he followed them into the white chill of the outdoors, doing his best to contain what he'd just unleashed.  He laughed as Cecilia twirled in the snow, calling out to no one in particular.

     "What should we do!?"

     Nicholas, as always, had ideas.

     "We can knock those down!"

     With that, he packed a dense snowball, and hurled it at a set of large, wicked-looking icicles that hung from the Library's eaves.  Russell cleared his throat pointedly.

     "Um...  How about no?  Those things can get pretty sharp, and your mom trusts me to send you home with the same number of holes you left with."

     Nicholas's small shoulders sagged, the second snowball falling to the ground.

     "...Then what should we do?"

     Cecilia—who seemed happy enough simply windmilling around and leaving crazy trails in the fresh snow—had ideas of her own.

     "We should do snow ghosts!"

     With a jolly whoop, she clumsily plopped down in the snow, rolling onto her back and flailing her limbs wildly up and down.  At first, Russell winced to see her collide with the ground, but still couldn't help but laugh at the sight of her.

     "...You know, that's a great idea.  I don't think I've made a snow ghost since I was your age."

     As Nicholas dropped down next to her, he pointed an accusing finger at Russell.

     "That was a long time ago!  You don't even remember how!"

     Russell carefully lowered himself to the ground.  He'd taken a few too many hard falls over the years, and wasn't keen on another.

     "Oh, I do so.  It's not complicated."

     By way of demonstration, he splayed out on the ground and worked his own limbs in the squeaky powder, until he felt satisfied with the shape he'd carved.

     When he finally stood and admired his work, he was surprised at how vague and anonymous it looked.  He didn't recognize the imprint of his own body, seeing only a frigid, faceless ghost in a long white robe.  If anyone, it resembled Sharron; Melody's equally eccentric best friend, who spent all her time prowling the ruins outside of town.

     But even so, it was his, and Russell felt a strange sense of pride.  As did Cecilia, who wasn't hearing any of Nicholas's slander.

     "...See!?  My dad is smart!  He remembers everything!"

     She twirled again, then collapsed in the snow, already on her second ghost.  Nicholas followed suit, face-down this time.  He lifted his head and spat out a mouthful of slush.

     "Russell!  You need to make another one!  We got four little ghosts and just one big ghost!"

     Cecilia scrambled to her feet, then immediately plopped down again.

     "Five!  Five little ghosts to look after!"

     Nicholas simply rolled over, running one ghost into the next.

     "Six!  Too much work for just one big ghost!"

     Russell laughed to himself, then sighed.

     "Fine, fine...  We can't have all those little ghosts getting into trouble by themselves."

     He eased himself to the ground again, sweeping his arms and legs in such wide arcs that they ached in their sockets.  With six small charges, and just one helper, he knew this ghost would need to be as big and strong as possible.

     He should be able to gather all the little ones in his arms, and...

     As he felt himself getting caught up in the game, watching the dense pale clouds blowing overhead, Russell sensed the echo of something stirring within himself.

     Only an echo.

     Because, he suddenly realized, the thing itself was lost.

     What the hell happened to me?

     He thought back to the previous year; when it really felt like he was, finally, going to be all right.  When his heart was so full of love for Cecilia and pride in his work, his mind so full of ideas and theories and history and stories, that the war and its aftermath seldom made an appearance.

     He wasn't undamaged.  He might not have even been healed.  He still got carried away when he went out drinking, and he still woke in a cold sweat some nights.  But he was whole, and that was all that really mattered.  The ground beneath him felt stable, and he was certain—so heartbreakingly certain—that he'd never lose footing again.

     Is this just how it's going to be?

     Russell listened to the carefree sounds of children frolicking around him, having moved on from snow ghosts to snowballs.  A peel of boyish laughter, and an enthusiastically aggrieved squeal; "Nicky!"

     A small, sad smile touched his lips as he watched that silver winter sky endlessly rolling along.

     Either way, I'm here.

     (Can't that be good enough?)

     He lay in the snow for several minutes, just watching and listening, until a long shadow fell across his vision.

     "...Hmm?"

     It was Edward, who somehow looked both amused and concerned.

     "You okay down there?"

     Russell huffed out a white-vapor laugh as he rubbed his hands together, feeling the cold biting even through his gloves.

     "Oh...  Yeah.  We're just...  Haunting the road, I guess."

     Edward glanced up and down the snowy street, taking in the haphazard arrangement of cobblestone ghosts.

     "...I see!  Good work.  I remember doing that with Camus, back when we first moved out here.  Snow really doesn't stick as well in the city...  Too many feet walking on it, I guess...  So we hadn't gotten the chance to try it before."

     Russell tried, as he had many times in the past, to imagine his friend in such an impersonal, grey-stone universe.  And, as always, the image never quite gelled.  Edward was of the vibrant green-and-red world of living things, as surely as Russell belonged to a faded cosmos of paper and dust.

     "That city doesn't sound like much fun."

     Edward shook his head, and seemed to stare into the middle distance.

     "Not really, no...  Also, for gods' sake, sit up.  You'll freeze solid down there, and my son'll have to scrape you up with a shovel."

     With a warm, playful smirk, the doctor extended a friendly hand.  Russell took it gratefully.

     "Hey...  Why couldn't you just scrape me up with a shovel?  You're the one who's around here most of the time."

     Edward brought Russell up into a sitting position, but stopped just short of pulling him to his feet.

     "Because I only have little gardening shovels.  It'd take forever."

     Russell laughed, releasing another small wisp of foggy breath.

     "...Fair enough."

     Edward brushed a bit of snow off his long coat, white on white.

     "Right...  Well, speaking of my son and his shovels, I was just about to go visit them.  Talk to you later, Russell."

     With that, he waved a quick goodbye and continued sauntering down the road.  Russell waved in return.

     "Later, Ed."

     Russell watched Edward leave, then hugged his freezing legs into his chest and cast a quick look around.  The crazy pattern of bootprints, the haunted cobbles; the children, playing more quietly now.

     The afternoon, it seemed, had wound itself down.

     Suddenly feeling incredibly cold and hungry, he coughed once in the dry air, then spoke.

     "So...  You two want dinner yet?"

     Cecilia stopped in her tracks.

     "...Dinner!?"

     Russell stood, shaking off the snow that had clung to the back of his coat.

     "I take it that's a yes?"

     Cecilia nodded enthusiastically, and the mere mention of food had brought Nicholas out from under those perilous icicles.

     "...What's dinner!?"

     ...Shit.  What is dinner?

     "Well, Nicky...  Let's go back inside and find out!"

     It took some effort, but Russell managed to herd them into the Library in a semi-orderly fashion, and got everyone's wet outer clothing mostly onto the coat rack before heading to the kitchen to rummage around.

     Bread...  Eggs...

     Otherwise, his refrigerator was mostly a collection of useless odds and ends, but he supposed this would do.

     "...Hey?  You like french toast, right?"

     Cecilia called out excitedly from the middle of the Library, where she was still struggling with her boots.

     "Yes!"

     Russell began getting the ingredients together, and stole a quick sip from the open wine bottle while he was at it.

     "I know you do, silly girl...  Nicky, you like french toast, don't you?"

     The sound of a pair of boots thudding to the floor.

     "Uh-huh!"

     Russell took down a large ceramic bowl and began cracking eggs.

     "Well, good...  How about helping me make some?  ...Ceci!  Go get my chair from the desk and bring it in here, okay?"

     Listening to the sound of the chair's legs scraping across the floor, Russell sighed to himself.

     I don't even have enough chairs.

     (I really need to get it together.  I mean it this time.)

     But, for tonight, this would be good enough.

     He cut the bread into thick slices, then showed the children how to properly coat them in the beaten egg.  Which was, of course, a rather messy process.  But, all told, the three of them made a fine assembly line; Cecilia carefully coating each slice, Nicholas dropping each one in the pan with a loud splat, Russell working the stove and doing his best to keep the chaos to a minimum.

     And, before long, the bread was gone; replaced with a towering plate of golden french toast, which Cecilia placed in the center of the small table.  Russell unearthed a jar of honey, sat it next to the plate, and admired their work for a moment, just as he had their wild family of snow ghosts.

     That was easy enough, I guess.  And they look happy.

     Feeling in something of a celebratory mood, Russell began pouring himself a glass of wine.

     "You two want anything to drink?"

     Nicholas, who was already pouring copious amounts of honey on his plate, piped up confidently.

     "I want some of that!"

     Russell shook his head.

     "No.  It's not for you, and I'm pretty sure you'd hate it."

     The young boy shrugged.

     "Mom likes it!"

     Gods, this kid...

     "...But that doesn't mean you'll like it.  It tastes funny.  Smells funny, too"

     Nicholas's nose wrinkled a bit.

     "Then why are you drinking it?"

     Russell leaned in conspiratorially.

     "...Because grownups are crazy.  Don't ask me again, okay?"

     In any case, Nicholas had lost interest, and was back to dousing his dinner in honey.

     "...'Kay!"

     Just as he was about to sit down, Russell felt suddenly inspired.

     "You know what we can do, though...?"

     He took down two more wine glasses, filled them from the bottle of grape juice in the refrigerator, and placed them before his daughter and her friend, both of whom seemed to find this very funny.  At long last, Russell was able to sit down.

     "...Now that we've got our glasses, we're going to need to have a toast.  Can either of you think of anything?"

     Only a few silent seconds passed before Cecilia chimed in.

     "Let's toast to our ghosts!"

     Nicholas picked up one of the honey-drenched slices on his plate with his bare hands, waving it and letting it drip.

     "And our toasts!"

     Russell laughed, though he knew he'd probably be feeling different when the time came for him to clean up the sticky mess.

     "all right, then...  To our ghosts and our toasts!"

     Cecilia and Nicholas toasted the day in giggling unison.

     "To our ghosts and our toasts!"

     Three glasses clinked over the sticky table.

~*~

     Russell lay in bed, finally re-reading that old favorite novel and listening to the murmur of the children in the next room.

     They stifled laughs, they joked and conspired...  Really, they did anything but sleep, and he was happy to leave them to it.  He'd read from a book that they both agreed on, he tucked them both in, he kissed Cecilia's forehead, and now the rest of the night would be theirs.

     I guess that all went pretty well.

     Even in the cozy calm that followed their sticky dinner, the evening had never quite lost its sense of boisterous mayhem, but Russell had at least managed to keep a handle on things this time.  It helped that the Library owned several books filled with instructions for various origami animals and Monsters, not to mention plenty of paper.  The trio had whiled away the evening fashioning a menagerie of strange, angular beasts, and the children played out a series of silly adventures with their creations.

     He took one last glance up at his headboard; which now more closely resembled an otherworldly paper zoo, overflowing as it was with the best of Ceclia's creatures, and a fair few of his own.  The lamplight flickered through their translucent bodies, soothing and warm.

     Russell watched it for a while, that hypnotic play of golden light on thin paper.

     It seemed to dance in time with the cadence of the children's conversation, and Russell felt his eyelids growing heavy.  He had decided to stick with a smaller dose, just in case one of them needed him during the night, but he could still feel the Lamp Grass going to work.  Its light shone through him, as though his mind itself was made of intricately folded paper.

     At least I didn't start bleeding this time.

     No, he hadn't bled.  And he was reading.  And he felt warm and safe.

     (Good enough.)

     By all measures, the night was a success.

     Carefully, he plucked one of the delicate animals from the headboard.  The butterfly; always his favorite, because you could use it as a bookmark.  He turned it in his hands a few times, admiring Cecilia's work.  Then he slipped it onto the corner of a page, closed the book, neatly folded his glasses, and turned off the lamp.

     Lastly, as he drifted off to sleep, Russell raised one more silent toast to his ghosts.

[a-song-for-ages]

YOU GUYS IM SCREAMING WHAT IF DACEY'S CONCEPTION OF HER BABY WAS ACTUALLY DONE BY MEANS OF BLOOD MAGIC / HIGHTOWER MAGIC LIKE

Dace had been married to Aegon for years and wasn't pregnant - not even once, because the moontea was doing its work... then Alicent found out, and tightened like the security on her with regards to maids and all that shit... but still, Dace didn't get pregnant

What if Otto did some strange voodoo shit that resulted in Dace's pregnancy?

Because I already wanted the pregnancy to be a sort of death sentence for Dacaerys - at least, that's the way she sees it, not to mention, I wanted to sort of tie this Targaryen woman being pregnant with a child to an unclaimed dragon essentially seeing her for what she is.

I was thinking the Cannibal, but even if she was a female dragon, specially one with a fresh clutch of eggs, the Cannibal would devour her whole because this is an easy kill. (Unless, of course, I pull an author thing and be like the Cannibal can sense the wrong-ness of the child - the blood magic and the targaryen magic that ties targaryens to their dragons, because I like the hc that dragons were made from the flesh of mortals - which is why Targaryen / Valyrian blood is so innately and intimately tied to Dragons and dragonriding.)

But I mean - Vermithor? He gives me "respect a pregnant dragon" vibes, because he's lived with Silverwing all his life, and I think he is essentially not as much as Jahaerys as people would think him to be. (Some dragons take on the traits of their riders - but I think Vermithor saw his own self as a different entity to Jaehaerys, an older more ancient thing... even though he hatched and grew alongside Jaehaerys. I like to think that as Vermithor grew, he took on the role as overprotective big brother - to protect his rider from any horrors that a next Maegor could bring.)

And I also wanted Dacaerys to have dreams.

Not before - when she was young, and a child, no. But dreams which would come the minute she fell pregnant, or perhaps, before that.

This is me, really milking all that Targaryen magic aight.

Also, I wanted Dacey to fully nelieve that she was going to die - in childbirth, like her grandmother, and great-grandmother before her. Yes, her own mother didn't die, and had many children, but Dacey remembered the screams of childbirth - and she knew such pain was a thing she could not bare. Not to mention...

The dreams.

She dreamt she birthed a dragon - well, maybe a baby who took on the form of a dragon, growing both more hideous but beautiful in only the way dragons can be beautiful in their danger... but also, the dragon that came from her was dark, and dreadful, and reminded her of a thing more dangerous than Vhagar, more dangerous than Balerion, more dangerous than Valyria. And Dacey was frightened... not as the child grew - well, dragon, and sucked on her life force, but there was a sense of danger, an electric feeling in the air, a silent wind that threatened to pull her body apart, with the crackle of fire in her ears, and a breath of blood under her nose. There was no ash, but only fire and blood, and Dacey got the sense that if she looked beyond the distance of the dragon child that sucked the life from her in her arms, she would see the ruins of Valyria looming over her.

And while Dacey had yearned to see Valyria in her childhood - out of curiosity, the horrible stories of the return of Aerea Targaryen and the scars of both her and Balerion would often leave her awake in silence at night.

So, I'm not entirely sure how this whole thing would pan out, but one thing is for certain - Dacaerys Velaryon was going to go through hell, have a couple of fever dreams here and there, eventually come to terms of healing her relationship with Aegon, but also, at the end of the day, she was going to have only one child, i think... a daughter.

But the problem is, I don't know if the child borne from blood magic would live or not - I think I like the thought of the Cannibal "accidently" eating him/her as a sort of "you're welcome" to Dacey, but at the same time, I don't know how Dacey would react. She'd probably be in shock, because she never wanted that child - and that foreboding feeling she had when she felt her stomach grow, only had her growing more detached from the child. But then when it is born, and she sees she is not dying, only ill for a long moment, but seeing the hair of the child and the redness of his cheeks, Dacey is at a loss.

She feels herself only to be a child - but her mother is proud, and happy, and Alicent is ecstatic because her oldest son has a son! And everyone seems to be happy, save for Daemon who is (silently) worrying over Davey's survival of the childbed, except... well, Rhaenys can sense that there is something wrong with Dacey.

I think Rhaenys will be the only one who Dacey will tell, "There is something wrong with him," to... and after she says it, she never says it again. The dreams stop, so maybe, that is that? But Dacey feels detached, but at the same time... she birthed this child. (And yet, there is not a feature of her own on his face.)

He has no dragon as well

Lol what if Dacey takes him to see if the Cannibal will let him claim him but instead he eats him.

Like.

That shouldn't be funny why am I laughing

[doberbutts]

lisam7chelle @lisam7chelle

It's almost as if this is a breed standard and dogs that are cropped/docked properly are indicative of a good breeder... what a thought.

I say this as someone who does not like cosmetic procedures and if I had a choice would not have it done for my dogs because I dont see the point. That said, there are reasons a dog might be cropped and docked.

Me: I did not crop and dock Creed and if I had had the choice I would not have done it but he was done long before I knew he existed and at the time the only way to get a doberman from a good breeder was to at least have a docked dog even if the ears were left natural, and my next doberman will be fully natural because the breed is in a different state than it was 8+ years ago.

Me: *deliberately gets three dogs from completely natural breeds in short order*

Me: *already knows who I will get my next doberman from and that dog will be fully natural with intact ears, tail, and dewclaws*

Anon: FUCK YOU, YOU DOG MUTILATOR

[angelasscribbles]

Unlikely Alliances 2: Closure (A Bad Romance Two-Shot)

Series: Bad Romance

Bad Romance One-Shots

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for series: [(Riley x Liam x Max) + (Riley x Drake)] + (Riley x Rashad)

Paring this chapter: Drake x Kiara (past), Riley x M!OC (past), Liam x Madeline (past)

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: none

A/N: The conclusion to how Madeleine got the press secretary job. In part one, Madeleine intercepted some compromising pictures of Liam that were missed by both the current press secretary and security. Riley promised her the job as long as she doesn't turn out to be involved with taking the pictures in any way. Drake is off to the states to chase down leads. Find part one here.

Word Count:  4,640

My other stuff: Master List.

New York, Drake and Kiara

Kiara grabbed her drink from the bartender and turned to make her way back to her table. She ran right into the big oaf blocking her way. Just standing there, arms folded like he owned the damned place. “Oh merde! Regarde ça, gros crétin ! Tu penses que tu es propriétaire de l'endroit ou quoi ? ”

“We need to talk.” The voice was deep, rumbly, sexy, familiar and oh so annoying.

She glared up at him, “Well hello to you too. How have you been for the last three years? Oh, fine. How about you, Kiara? How have you been? I’m good. Nice to see you. What the fuck do you want, Drake?”

She shoved her away around him and headed back to her table, her friends and the rest of her night.

He swooped in front of her again, “If you want to do this in front of your friends we can, but it would probably be less embarrassing if we do it in private.”

“Do what?” Her eyes traveled up to find his, hers filled with defiance.

“I’m here on crown business, Ki, you might want to listen. I don’t want to have to drag you into the embassy for questioning, but I will.”

“Questioning? For what?” She gaped up at him. His steely gaze met her stormy one.

“I told you. Crown business.”

Anger flickered through her eyes, “Oh, you’re here on behalf of your girlfriend! What the fuck does she want? I don’t work for her! I work for Liam!”

She tried to shove her way around him again. This time he grasped her firmly by the arm and pulled her to an empty booth, shoving her into it, then blocking her in with his body.

“What the actual fuck, Drake?” She seethed.

“I’m here on Liam’s behalf!” He hissed at her.

“Ki?” The voice was hesitant.

Drake glanced up to find a nervous looking man with ebony hair falling past his ears fidgeting next to their booth. Drakes eyes raked across the other man dismissively, “Can I help you?”

“Ah…” The man cleared his throat, “Kiara, is everything alright?”

Kiara’s gaze went from the man to Drake then back again, “I’m fine. Just catching up with an old friend.”

“You sure?”

Drake gave the man a mirthless smile, “She’s sure. She’ll come find you when she’s done. Bye.”

The man looked from Drake to Kiara and back again before nodding and reluctantly walking away.

“That was rude. You’ve always been rude, you know that, right?”

“You never seemed to mind before.” He smirked down at her.

She felt herself flush, “Fuck you! If you have legitimate business, spit it out or I’m leaving!”

Drake slid a photo across the table to her.

Her eyes flicked down in annoyance then widened in shock, “Who took this?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

A slow smirk crawled across her face, “What happened? Liam finally get tired of her shit? Decided to cheat on her? Good for him!”

“Someone sent this, and a few more like it, to the press.” Drake said through a clenched jaw.

Kiara’s face dropped, “Who would do that?”

“It wasn’t you?” His gaze bored into her.

She drew herself up in indignation, “How can you ask me that? Of course it wasn’t me!”

“You sure about that? You hate Riley. Some people would consider that motive.”

“I may hate Riley, but I don’t hate Liam, or Cordonia! I would never do anything to compromise my country! You used to know that about me, Drake.” Her voice was full of recrimination.

His eyes scanned her face, searching for clues as to the veracity of her statement, the purity of her intentions. He found nothing but honesty, and anger, there.

He pulled the photo back with a sigh, “Ok, I believe you.”

“Great. If there’s nothing else?”

“Listen. I’m sorry if I hurt you-“

Kiara’s eyes rolled so hard she was sure she’d see the inside of her skull, “Do not flatter yourself!”

Kiara’s pride had been damaged, not her heart. The feelings she’d had for him weren’t of the romantic variety. But he had hurt her. Her voice was softer, lower, laced with bitterness as she said , “I thought we were friends.”

“Ki…” He trailed off as a sliver of guilt panged through him before his memories reminded him why he shouldn’t feel too guilty, “Friends don’t take bribes from people to come between them and the person they love!”

She flushed with shame at the memory of how she’d obtained her job, but the stronger emotion was anger, “You told me you weren’t with her! You told me you didn’t love her! You told me she was a lying, cheating whore!”

“I….” His eyes dropped to the tabletop, “I did say all of those things. I lied to you, Ki. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Except for the lying, cheating, whore part.” Kiara replied with venom, “That part was true.”

His eyes snapped up to her, full of fury and indignation, “Don’t talk about her like that!”

“You defend her, even now?”

“Especially now!” He leaned toward Kiara, lowering his voice, “I love her, Ki! I am still in love with her! I’m so fucking sorry I hurt you and drug you into our mess. I used you to hurt her and there’s no excuse for it. I didn’t think she really loved me back and I was lashing out and seeking comfort where I shouldn’t have. Things were….complicated back then.”

“Oh, and they’re simple now?”

“Yes, they are.” He replied quietly, his face softening, “I love her, and she loves me. Her marriage to Liam is mostly political, though I know she loves him too and any idiot can see how much he loves her. Then there’s Max….”

“Doesn’t sound simple.”

“But it is. We all love each other, my love for Liam isn’t romantic or sexual, but it’s there and it’s real. If you could see Liam and Max together, you’d know their connection is deep and it’s strong and I don’t quite get being in love with more than one person, but I can’t deny what I see on a daily basis. Liam loves them both, deeply. The three of them together….I’ve seen very few couples in my life that can match them for genuine affection.” He shook his head with a smile, “I’m happy, Ki! Happy to be a part of the family we’ve created, however unconventional, and happy to be so unbelievably blessed to have the love and attention of such an extraordinary woman! I know you don’t see her that way, but I do and isn’t that all that matters?”

“I…wow. You do seem happy. Huh.” Kiara had never seen Drake Walker smile quiet like he was smiling, had never seen such tenderness in his eyes, or his voice, as when he spoke about her. Who was she to judge?

“I am. How about you? Are you happy, Ki?” His gaze was honest and earnest as he peered into her eyes.

 “I am.” She gave him a tentative smile, “I love my job, New York agrees with me, and I’m engaged!”

She held her left hand up and thrust it toward him. He took her hand in his and let out a low whistle as he took in the princess cut diamond on her ring finger that had to be at least ten carats. “That’s quiet an impressive stone. What’s your fiancé do? Rule a small country?”

She snorted, “Close.”

Drake raised an eyebrow, “Who is it?”

“Gordon Price.” She answered.

“The prime minister of Terrana?”

“That’s the one.” She was glowing with satisfaction and happiness.

Drake gave her a real smile, “I’m glad, Ki. You deserve to be happy.”

“Thanks.” She said, withdrawing her hand. “So, you see, I haven’t been sitting here pining after you for the last three years, plotting my revenge on Riley. You think too highly of yourselves, both of you.”

Drake let out a wry chuckle, “Point taken. So, that definitely wasn’t Gordon Price earlier, the guy trying to come to your rescue?”

“No.”

“Who was he? He looked familiar. And he seemed nervous. Is he someone you know well? Trust?”

A frown of confusion crossed her face, “Nick? He’s harmless.”

“Nick?” Why did that name sound familiar? “Nick who? Where’d you meet him?”

“Here. He’s the owner.”

Drake looked over to find the guy shooting daggers at him from behind the bar. “So, his interest in you is just professional? It seems like more than that.”

“He’s sort of a friend. I’ve seen him a few times outside of this place.”

“Where?”

“He runs a catering business out of the back. He’s good. We’ve used him for events a few times.”

“Like what kind of events?”

“Most recently, I referred him for the welcome dinner the night before the UN Gala….” Her eyes widened. “You don’t think….”

Drake sat up straighter, “Ki, you saw the photo. It was taken at the hotel the night of the welcome dinner!”

“How do you know it was that night?”

“I asked Liam when he picked up that particular woman. Surprisingly he remembered her.”

“Right.” She still did not understand their relationship, any of it.

Drake turned to stare hard at the man behind the bar. Something tickled at the back of his memory. Nick…. Recognition suddenly flooded over him. He turned back to the woman next to him, “Ki, I’m going to need your help with something!”

“What?” She asked suspiciously, “Don’t forget, we’re not friends anymore.”

“I know and that’s on me. I’m sorry, again, I sincerely am. But Liam is your friend, right?”

“Yes…” She conceded carefully.

“So, what if I told you that you could help catch the culprit that tried to ruin him in the press?”

“I’m listening…..”

Fifteen minutes later Kiara approached the man at the bar, “Hey Nick.”

“Hey, Kiara. Everything ok with you?”

“I’m fine. I wanted the thank you for your concern. I could tell you would have intervened if I’d needed you to.”

Nick flushed, “Of course I would have! We’re friends and I don’t like that guy!”

Kiara feigned surprise, “You know him?”

“Yeah.” Nick glowered, “I’ve met him once.” Fucking bastard didn’t even remember me!

“How?”

Nick fidgeted, “Ah….mutual acquaintance.”

“Oh? Anyone I know?” Kiara tried for nonchalant as she stirred her drink.

“Her name is Riley.”

“Riley? Riley Rys? The queen?”

“I….don’t want to talk about it.” Nick finished drying the glass in his hand and put in up on the shelf behind the bar.

“So have you also met the king?”

“Once.” He admitted.

“You sound like you don’t like him.”

“I fucking hate him!” Nick snarled, “He stole my girlfriend! And he’s not even worthy of her! I don’t give a shit that he’s a king! So what? He doesn’t deserve her!”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because he fucking cheated on her!”

“How do you know that?”

“I saw him! At the welcome dinner for the UN gala! And again, the night after that and again the night after that!” He grabbed another glass and started angrily drying it.

Kiara was stunned. Drake had told her about Nick showing up in Cordonia after Riley’s engagement to Liam made international news. She still hadn’t thought him capable of what amounted to stalking, but clearly he had returned to the hotel on at least two more occasions after the event he was hired to cater. She decided to play dumb, provoking him was the best way to get an ill advised outburst, and possible confession, out of him. “Oh, no! Liam would never cheat on Riley!”

“He did!” Nick’s voice rose as he slammed the glass in his hand down on the bar top, “And I can prove it!”

“How?” She tried for calm, but didn’t quite achieve it.

“I….” He seemed to realize his mistake. He shook his head in denial.

“I’d like to know the answer to that myself.” Drake stepped from the hallway back into the main part of the bar. He’d been listening from a receiving unit. Kiara had been fitted with a transmitter. The conversation was recorded.

Nick’s face paled. Shit!

“It was you.” Drake stated, “You took the pictures and sent them to the Cordonian press.”

“I….” Nick’s eyes went wide as they flew from Drake to Kiara then back again. Resolve and anger hardened his features as he gave a careless shrug, “So what if I did? What are you going to do about it? It’s not against the law to take pictures, or to mail them.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. While there’s no law against photographing people in public places, these…” Drake tossed photos onto the bar that showed Liam and his companion inside a hotel room, “U.S. law says it’s illegal to photograph people in places where they have a reasonable expectation of privacy. I’d say a hotel bedroom is one of those places. Wouldn’t you?”

Nick gave him a smug grin, “So? To prosecute me, you’d have to turn over those photos and you obviously don’t want them going public. Tell your friend to make sure the curtains are all the way closed next time.”

He had him there. Drake slid a glance over to Kiara, “You might want to look the other way.”

“Why?” She asked.

“Plausible deniability.” Drake said before reaching over the bar and dragging Nick across it.

“What the fuck?” Nick yelped as he crashed to the floor on the other side.

Drake pulled him to his feet then pushed him toward the storeroom, “We’re going to your house or wherever you might have any copies of these photos. I’m going to need your cell phone.”

“You can’t just-“

“Oh, I can and I will!” Drake told him with a smug grin of his own, “I have diplomatic immunity. I can beat the hell out of you, and nothing is going to happen to me. I can literally kill you, and nothing will happen to me. So, you might want to consider your next move carefully.”

An hour later Drake had possession of Nick’s cell phone, laptop and hardcopies of the photos in question. The two guardsmen he had brought with him to New York thoroughly tossed the apartment.

“Are you sure there are no other copies?” Drake demanded.

“I’m sure!” Nick answered.

“If these show up again, anywhere, I’m coming back here, and I will find you. You understand that, right?”

“Why are you helping him?” Nick glared at him.

“What do you mean?” Drake frowned.

“I mean……She tossed you to the side too! I know I was just a bartender back then, but I own my place now. What do you do? Whatever it is, it wasn’t enough, was it? But I guess it’s hard to compete with a king.”

“Riley didn’t marry Liam for his title or his money.” Drake said.

“No?” Nick laughed, “Are you sure? Maybe she’s just a gold digging wh-“

Drake’s fist connected with Nick’s jaw and Nick crashed to the ground. Drake knelt next to him, “I think you need to come with me.”

“Where?” Nick sat up, his hand going to his mouth.

“Cordonia.”

“Fuck no, I’m not going to end up in a Cordonian prison! That king guy hates me! He’s jealous of the connection Riley and I share!”

Drake snorted. “Right. That proves my point. You obviously need to hear it from her directly that nothing you do is going to pry her away from him. We won’t go to Cordonia though, you’re right. Liam would probably throw your ass in a cell and forget where he put the key.”

Nick brightened, “I’ll get to see Riley again?” In person, not just on TV or his cell phone.

“Come on, we’ll meet on neutral ground.”

France, Riley and Nick

Drake shoved the man forward through the door. He stumbled into the room and came to a stop in front of the king and queen or Cordonia. He lifted his head.

“Nick?” Riley’s jaw dropped. She spun toward Drake, “You didn’t tell me the culprit was Nick!”

Drake grinned at her like he was proud of himself or something, “Nice to know I can still surprise you.”

Liam looked around the room in confusion, “Your ex-boyfriend was spying on me?”

“He was cheating on you, Riley! I was helping you!” Nick yelled, pointing his finger accusingly at Liam.

She stepped close to Nick, cupping his face in her palm. He closed his eyes and leaned into it with a sigh.

“Nick, I’m sorry I hurt you.”

His eyes popped opened, “What?”

“I’m sorry I hurt you. I wasn’t exactly a good person back then. More to the point, I was shut down emotionally back then, in order to protect myself and I hurt a lot of people. I was careless with the hearts of others. I didn’t realize just how awful I was, how badly it felt, until someone shattered my heart into a million pieces.”

“Who, Riley? Who did that to you?” Nick asked her imploringly, as if he would personally seek out vengeance for her.

Her eyes flicked to her husband.

“The greatest regret of my life.” Liam said.

“But…but you’re still with him! You….forgave him?”

“I did.”

Liam smiled softly, “Greatest miracle of my life!”

Nick’s frown deepened, “But he cheated on you…..I saw him with those women….”

“No, Nick.” Riley stepped away from him, “He didn’t cheat on me because we have an agreement….an arrangement, that allows him to seek physical comfort from others when he travels.”

“But…why would you agree to that?” Nick shook his head.

Riley couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face or the way her eyes flicked to Drake. “I have my reasons.”

Nick’s eyes followed hers and took in the sappy grin that spread across Drake’s face as well. Understanding washed over him, “So…you two…you’re still….”

“Nick, I need you to understand that hurting Liam is the same as hurting me! You weren’t helping me. He’s my husband and I love him. I’m going to take his side no matter what. I’m asking you, for the sake of what we used to have, if you ever cared about me at all, please stop this. Don’t come after my husband again.”

“What about me, Riley?”        

“What about you, Nick?”

“Since the two you apparently have an open relationship, what about me? I can do it! I’ll share! Let me be part of whatever the hell this is you have going on!”

“Oh, Nick, no. I’m so sorry, but no.”

“Why not?” He sounded heartbroken and she felt bad for him.

“Because I don’t love you.”

“You did! You said so!”

“Did I?”

Nick thought for a minute, “Well….no, you never said it back…..”

“Could you give us a moment alone?” She asked the other two men.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Drake asked, glancing at Liam.

“I’m sure.” Riley answered.

“Ok, love.” Liam nodded to Drake, “But we’ll be right outside that door.”

Once they were alone, Riley took Nick’s hand, “I owe you so many apologies. I’m sorry that I was reckless with your heart. I’m sorry I ghosted you, that was unforgivable. I’m sorry that I didn’t return your feelings. I can’t be with you in any capacity Nick. I’m not in love with you but you obviously still have feelings for me so even if I were inclined to, I can’t have casual sex with you either, because that would be cruel and unfair to you. Surely you see that?”

He sighed as he contemplated that, “You never loved me?”

“I’m sorry, no. I shouldn’t have moved in with you. I liked you, Nick. A lot. But I had no clue what real love was, not back then.”

“But you found it immediately after me?” He asked bitterly.

A self deprecating laugh escaped her, “Yes and no. You have no idea the drama and trauma we all went through before coming out on the other side. It’s not a reflection on you. You just weren’t my person, but I know your person is out there, somewhere and I have faith that you’ll find her.”

He lifted his eyes to her, “Thank you. I think…I needed this. Closure. They aren’t the answers I would have liked, but they are answers and maybe that’s what I needed in order to move on. Being ghosted is the worst feeling in the world. It was a shitty thing to do. I deserved better.”

If he wanted an argument, he wasn’t going to get it, “It was, and you did.”

“Well, thank you for that. That…that actually makes me feel a little better.”

“I promise, it wasn’t you, Nick. It was me. I was the fucked up one. I hurt you and I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Riley.” Nick smiled softly then his head jerked up, “Fuck! I guess I tanked my catering business by stalking your husband, huh?”

“What?”

“I own a bar and a catering business in New York now. The Cordonian embassy sometimes hires me, that’s how I spotted him at that dinner that night. Kiara knows now, so I assume that’s the end of my business. I’ll be blackballed.”

Riley considered that. “Well, yeah, clients aren’t going to hire you if you try to spy on and blackmail their guests, but if you’re truly sorry and can be trusted not to do it again…..”

“I am and I can, Riley! I promise!”

She nodded as she squeezed his hand, “Then I’ll make sure Kiara knows not to tell anyone about this. Your business shouldn’t suffer because I broke your heart four years ago. Just promise me you’ll never do anything like that again.”

“I promise!”

“Ok, Then no harm, no foul. But Nick, as sorry as I am for hurting you, if you come for my family again, all bets are off. I won’t be forgiving a second time and you don’t want to know the things Drake is capable of. Do we understand each other?”

A chill went down his spine as he stared into her eyes. Who was she? Maybe he hadn’t known her at all. He nodded in agreement, “We do.”

Cordonia, Liam and Madeleine

“It has been brought to my attention that in order to move forward with your employment, you and I need to hash out our issues.”

Madeleine tossed her blonde hair back with a smirk, “Riley made you come make nice with me, didn’t she?”

Liam flushed, “Ah…it was her idea, but she is correct. If we’re going to work together, we need to have at least a cordial relationship.”

“Nick wasn’t the only casualty of our bullshit, Liam. We both hurt people who got in the crossfire.”

“Yes, love, I know.” He agreed. Standing between him and Riley was not a smart place for anyone to be. Not then, not now, not ever.

“I think you have your own apologies to make to someone.”

“Sit down, Liam.” Madeleine invited.

Liam pulled out a chair and sat across from her at the well appointed table in the private dining room of one of Cordonia’s most prestigious restaurants. “Just water please.” He told the waiter.

 “Liam, let me just stop you before you begin. I know you didn’t love me; I didn’t love you. I never wanted to marry you; I was simply doing my duty to Cordonia. But….”

“But?”

“Yeah, but! You were one, a big one.”

“I…was?”

Madeleine stared at him like he’d just grown an extra head, “Seriously Liam? Were you so blinded by love that you couldn’t see what you were doing to me? To your own reputation?”

“I-“

“I agreed to marry you for Cordonia’s sake and to protect the woman you loved! Do you remember that? You told me all about how you had to reject her to protect her blah blah blah and I agreed to give you a Cordonian arrangement, to look the other way while you made her your mistress. I agreed to a loveless marriage in order to serve Cordonia, give you a wife with proper lineage and protect your precious Riley but did you ever stop to consider what I was giving up? No, you just assumed I was a crown chaser! Then you repaid me by disrespecting me at every opportunity! You flaunted your relationship with Riley in my face and worse, in the publics! You didn’t even try to be discreet with your puppy dog eyes and longing glances and using the king’s guard to track your errant lover down every time she ran away from you! It was pathetic is what it was, and I was just expected to endure it!”

Liam flushed, “I loved her, Madeleine!”

“I don’t care, Liam!” She hissed, leaning across the table, “I could have cared less if you were banging her every fucking night, discreetly! I gave you the fiancée you needed, and I would have made a good queen! I offered you an open relationship with no strings attached, and all I asked in returned was discretion! That you not embarrass me publicly, but you couldn’t even do that, could you? You didn’t care who knew that you were still in love with your precious Riley, did you? No. Which begs the question, why the fuck didn’t you just chose her in the first place?”

“I…I made a mistake! Ok? Is that what you want to hear? I was in love with her from the very beginning and I never wanted to choose anyone else! I felt compelled by circumstances to enter into our little agreement, and I hated every minute of it! Not because I had to be with you, but because I couldn’t be with her! I thought I could do it; I really did. Right up until the moment she walked through the ballroom doors of your estate on the arm of another man! I realized right then and there the enormity of my mistake, the colossal mess I had made of things, and I didn’t know how to fix it! I wanted out of our arrangement in that moment and every moment after, but I didn’t know how to go about it and still protect her, so I acted foolishly, I made one mistake after another and I embarrassed myself and you and I’m sorry for it, ok?”

A smile curved up the corners of her mouth, “Okay.”

Liam’s mouth went slack, “Okay?”

“Yes. That was an admission that you were a bumbling asshole and that it wasn’t me! That’s exactly what I wanted to hear! I mean, I already knew it, but I needed to know that you understood it! We can work together now.”

“Great!” Liam stood, “I’ll leave the official job offer and details to my wife. I’m not going to be the one to hire my ex. I’m not the PR expert here, but I imagine that would look a little….irregular.”

“Quite.” Madeleine agreed, “I approve of the offer coming from the queen. I can spin that quite nicely as two women putting aside their differences and coming together for the good of Cordonia. It should also put to rest any lingering rumors that I’m bitter or holding ill will over the broken engagement.”

He caught the accusation in her tone.

His voice was soft as he replied, “Madeleine, I am sorry. I realize that I damaged your reputation when I drug you through my crap that had nothing to do with you.”

“Thank you, Liam. I appreciate that acknowledgment.”

His lips quirked up into a smile, “Guess I’ll see you at the office.”

She smiled back and it was the first genuine smile she’d given him in years, “Looking forward to it.”

[scuttling]

Lovers' Spat

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 2,738 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Teasing, Daddy kink, Soft dom/sub, Cockwarming (+ unsafe driving practices), Oral fixation, Unprotected sex, Choking, Spit kink, Come marking Summary: You piss off Aaron at work, he's harsh about it, and you're both upset on the flight back. At home, you're desperate to connect and give each other what you need. *Requested by @ssahotchie :) Link to A03 or read below! “I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal out of this,” you say when you and Aaron are back at the hotel packing up your stuff. “It was innocent.”

“It was not innocent, and you know it. There’s nothing innocent about nibbling on my ear and rubbing my thigh in a fucking police precinct.”

Well he’s got you there. Your intentions were most certainly to tease him and make him hard, so he would be praying for the flight to end quickly so he could drag you to your bedroom and do dirty things to you. Admittedly, sometimes your libido gets the best of you.

“Okay, so it wasn’t innocent, but no harm was done. When that detective caught me, she laughed.” Aaron is very much not laughing.

“No harm was done to you, but apparently you forget that I have a reputation to uphold. I’m known in a lot of these law enforcement offices, if not by face than by name, and I don’t need you teasing me, undermining my authority, and being inappropriate.”

You feel that like a slap to the face; you set your jaw, exhale through your nose, and shove your shit into your go bag, and when you’re packed you throw it onto the floor, walk into the bathroom, and slam the door behind you.

You’re looking in the mirror and willing yourself not to cry. Yes, teasing him is fun, being a little shit is fun, but disappointing him is not fun, and you feel like a huge fucking disappointment right now. You feel like a pain in the ass, like a dumb slut who has no regard for what he wants or needs, who only wants to get fucked. It’s humiliating.

After a couple minutes, Aaron knocks on the door. “Time to go, baby.” You take a deep breath and open the door, walk over to your bag and throw it over your shoulder, not making eye contact. You wait for him to catch up, and he puts his hand on the small of your back, turns you to face him. “I’m sorry. I was a little harsh.” You frown and shake your head, holding it high in hopes you’ll trick your stupid brain into thinking you’re not some huge fuck up, a huge mistake.

“No, you were right. You don’t need me ruining your reputation.” He closes his eyes, sighs, and you open the door, gather with the rest of the team in the lobby. They don’t know what happened, but you’re sure it’s obvious that you and Aaron are not in a good place right now. No one tries to talk to you or joke with you, and you sit by yourself on the plane, earbuds in with nothing playing. You stare out the window and wonder what this means for the rest of your day, your week. Your life. When you land, Aaron grabs both of your bags and throws them in the back of the car. You slink into the passenger’s seat, move to buckle in, but he stops you with a gentle hand on yours.

“Are you angry, or sad?” You smile, just a little, because of the fact that’s a question he even knows to ask. He knows you so well, it hurts sometimes.

“Sad. I hate disappointing you,” you say, and your voice cracks a little. It’s easier to hold back your emotions when you don’t speak. He lifts his hand, runs it over your cheek, pulls you close for a soft kiss.

“You didn’t disappoint me. You’re my good girl, you’re perfect.” You close your eyes and lean into his palm.

“I’m not.”

“Do you want to be?” You open your eyes, swallow, make eye contact; his gaze is soft, but serious, and beautiful as always.

“Yes, daddy. More than anything.” He nods, opens his belt and unzips his pants. You lick your lips, second nature at this point, and your eyes move from his face to his cock—now exposed, half hard—and then back to his face. You must look uncertain, because he brushes a thumb over your lips.

“I just want you to put your mouth on me and stay there, until we get home, okay? First step to being daddy’s good girl is just keeping me warm and wet with your sweet little mouth.” You say a silent thanks to the FBI for its heavily tinted windows and lean over the center console, hold him still, and wrap your lips around him.

He knows how it makes you feel to have your mouth full—be it full of his cock or his fingers or your fingers or a toy—how your mouth is like a direct line to both your heart and your pussy that is unlike any other erogenous zone on your entire body. It makes you feel happy, and good, and useful, and cared for, so much more than just an oral fixation; you’re sure that’s why this is step one, because you will be soft and fuzzy and pleased with yourself by the time you make it home, no longer embarrassed by your behavior or wounded by his words.

He pets your head when he can, murmurs, perfect and good girl and so good for daddy, and you moan softly, occasionally, sounds of contentment more than pleasure. Once or twice, he moves his hand to your ass, squeezes, and you moan louder, wanting to bob on his cock, but he reminds you to stay still with a hand on the back of your neck; you want to please him more than anything, so you do.

After he pulls into his parking spot and turns off the car, he tilts your head so your cheek is pressed to his thigh, and you look up at him, your eyes unfocused but full of gratitude and love. He brushes your hair back, takes his cock in his hand and slides it out of your mouth, and you groan softly at the loss.

“Good girl. So incredible for daddy. I need you, you know that? Need my perfect girl.”

“I need you, daddy,” you rasp, and you sit up, and he takes your face in his hands and kisses your soft, wet lips.

“I know you do, and I’m going to give you what you want. Let’s get inside, okay, angel?” Again, he grabs both of your bags, and he puts his arm around your waist, helps you get inside, since you’re a little hazy from keeping your mouth on him for so long.

He gets you a drink of water, then guides you to the bedroom, sits you back on the bed and slowly, lovingly removes your clothes. You brush your fingers through his hair, just stare at him, happy and horny and very in love.

“Do you want to undress me, or do you just want to watch?” he asks, and you slide off the bed, sink to your knees, and take off his shoes and socks and pants while he works on his tie and the buttons of his shirt. When you’re both naked, he pulls the comforter down and lays you back against the sheets, leans in to kiss your throat, your cheeks, and then he puts his fingers inside you, to make sure you’re ready for more than that.

“I’m ready, daddy, ready,” you whisper, but he moves them inside you to decide for himself, because sometimes you’re so horny you say you’re ready when you really aren’t, and then it hurts. You don’t mind when it hurts, but Aaron likes you to be prepared, so you try to be patient.

When he decides you’re ready, he spreads your thighs wide, gets on his knees, and pulls you closer, lines the head of his cock up at your entrance and presses in. You moan, because you’ve been wanting to feel this all damn day, and then he slips his wet fingers into your mouth, gets his other hand on your hip, and starts to thrust.

“Beautiful, baby, so good and sweet for daddy. Perfect angel.” His voice is tense with arousal, his face a gorgeous combination of concentration and pleasure; you move your hips, pressing your thighs against his, taking his deep, slow thrusts to the next level, and he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, holds your waist tightly, moves a little quicker.

“Oh, yes daddy,” you breathe, your hands on his forearms, your tits bouncing and your body sliding back and forth across the bed. “Feels so good, so good. Fuck me, fuck my body, daddy.” He groans, and his grip on your waist gets tighter; he’s really pounding you now, and you’re breathing heavily, but you want something more, something you can’t reach yet but that’s at the edge of your mind, on the tip of your tongue.

“That’s right, good girl, daddy’s fucking your soft little body. Filling you up with his hard cock. You love that, angel; this is what you wanted earlier, isn’t it? When you were teasing daddy? You just wanted to be fucked, filled up with cock like the good girl you are, and daddy wasn’t nice. I’m sorry, baby, I love you.”

“It’s okay, daddy, love you, daddy. I shouldn’t have been inappropriate but I wanted you to get hard and think of me.” He hums, moves a hand to your thigh and the other to your throat, squeezes tightly. You arch off the bed, up into his hand, whimper and move your hips faster, more desperately. “Oh, god, oh, yeah.” You groan, tense, and come, digging your nails into his forearms, and he grunts as you quake around him, letting up on your throat just a little.

“There’s daddy’s girl, coming so hard. Good girl. So wet for me now.” You absolutely are, you can hear the sounds of his cock moving in and out of you very clearly, and it makes you feel hot and dirty and eager for more: but more what?

Your question is answered when he leans forward, sucks on one of your nipples, then pulls back and dribbles some spit on it, rubs his hand roughly over it when it’s damp.

Jesus Mary and Joseph. New challenge unlocked: get this sexy fucking man to soak you in his spit.

“Oh, oh, please, please,” you babble, and he spreads his spit to your other nipple, lets a little more drip off of his tongue. “Oh god, oh, please.” He sucks it, then looks up at you, because you’re clearly losing your fucking mind.

“What is it, angel? What do you want from daddy?” He squeezes your neck again, and you whine high in your throat, can feel your wetness soaking your ass and the sheets beneath you; you want to be wet all over, a mess all over, you want him to fill your pussy and your mouth, you want him inside you in every way. You whine again.

“Spit on me daddy. My tummy and my tits,” you plead, and his eyes get dark and he swirls his tongue around a nipple, spits on it, moves to the other side and does the same. Your chest is heaving, drenched, filthy, and he changes the angle so he can drip some into your belly button, too. He’s higher up for that, and you can see a string of spit falling from his mouth as he does it, and you move a hand to your throbbing pussy and rub it, moaning like an absolute whore.

“You like that, baby? You like when daddy spits on you? You like being a dirty slut, covered in daddy, filled by daddy?” You nod as best as you can with his hand on your throat, your mouth open, panting, and he gets a glimmer in his eye that makes you even fucking wetter. He slides his hand up from your throat to your jaw, squeezes, and leans over your body, presses his lips to your slack mouth for a kiss. “Open wide, good girl.”

You shiver, whimper, and open your mouth, and you can see him rolling his tongue, collecting spit; you moan on repeat like a broken record, your fingers beating your clit, his cock pounding your pussy, and you start to come again just as he presents you with a tongue coated in spit, as he pours it into your mouth, stringy and slick and thick and everything you didn’t know you needed.

You tip your head back, swallow, and your eyes roll a little as your orgasm only continues to build. He leans in for a wet, sloppy kiss, groans against your mouth, and then pulls back and spits again, this time onto your closed lips, so it rolls down your chin, your throat. You swipe your tongue over your bottom lip, sigh happily, and Aaron comes, pumping inside you a few times and then pulling out to let the rest coat your thighs.

You have never been so thoroughly debauched, your body trembling, sticky and shiny and covered in a multitude of fluids, and Aaron climbs off the bed, making you whimper at the loss.

“Be right back, baby,” he assures, so you just raise your arms over your head, sigh, so content; when he comes back, he kneels on the bed, holds his phone over you, and takes a picture. You laugh softly, surprised.

“Okay, and what’s that all about?” you ask as he crowds in next to you, rubs his fingers gently over your jaw, your throat, where he’d been rough.

“This is an image I won’t let myself soon forget, but just in case my imagination is failing me one day, I need to have a backup.” You huff a laugh, pull him close for a kiss, and he tosses his phone toward the end of the bed, holds you closer. “I’m sorry about earlier. I could stand to be a little less uptight. I wasn’t thinking about how my words could affect you, and I didn't mean them anyway. I do need you, inappropriate and teasing me, or any other way you chose to be. I love you.”

“I love you too, but I’m also sorry. There’s a time and a place for what I did, and the precinct wasn’t it. I wasn’t thinking of how my actions could affect you, or your reputation.” You brush a hand through his hair, look into his perfect, gorgeous eyes, and sigh. “Besides, the only place I want you to have a bad reputation is here in this bed with me. I like that you’re a gentleman in the streets and a nasty, choking, spitting, fucking machine in the sheets. Really gets me going, when you’re standing there all pressed and proper in your expensive suits and I know you’re probably thinking about pulling my hair and railing me on the nearest surface.” He hums, nods like you’re a little silly, but you know deep down he loves it.

“I am thinking about that most of the time,” he says with a smile, and you kiss and get cleaned up and change the sheets, and then you curl up on your stomach, his heavy body on top of you, all around you, and fall blissfully asleep. A little less than a week later, you’re on a case, and Aaron thinks the unsub would open up to you, if you’re up for it. He gives everyone directions, but asks you to hang back a moment, which is not unusual; he’ll do that to everyone before an interrogation, to go over his expectations, warnings.

The two of you are in the conference room, your makeshift workspace, alone, when he steps up to you, towering over you, and wraps his fingers around your chin. He presses one soft, gentle kiss to your lips, and then says, “open up for daddy.”

Your eyes get wide, but you do as instructed, and he spits on your tongue, then gives you an open-mouthed, filthy kiss.

“For luck,” he says, humor in his eyes, because he can see how all of that delicious nonsense has affected you. He smacks you on the ass and tells you he’ll be watching, lets you go.

You make that unsub your bitch and get a confession in five minutes flat. Everyone asks what’s gotten into you to make you such a... spitfire, but you’ll never tell.

Except Garcia. You’re definitely telling Garcia. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul

[ripperdoc-is-daddy]

Sanemi as a Dad (Labor and Delivery)

Been sitting in my drafts for a tic. MORE SOFT BOY SANEMI! TW: Pregnancy, Food, Maternity shit, Vaginal Birth, Epidurals, Pain, Soft Boy Sanemi, Crying, Shinazugawa fluff READER IS BLACK Minors Do Not Interact

This is a side story that relates to future events in Ohagi n Chill. Feeding my ONC peeps. If you are new here- Please Reblog! <3 Prequel, Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4

Is chill while you are waiting to be induced or to hit active labor

Had your bag packed months in advance

Sneaks in snacks to the maternity ward if they aren’t allowed

Brings your favorite handheld and console to your maternity room

Makes sure your birth plan is followed

Stays out of your nurse's way

Pro-skill at calming you down and building up your confidence

If you are having a c-section he will hype you up and be with you the whole time (if allowed)

Insists on wearing PPE

Has a high-def camera ready

Isn’t bothered if you squish his digits while pushing (It’s his kid after all)

Speaks when you ask for reassurance

If an emergency happened, he would need to be escorted out cuz he is your ride or die

When baby shows up he melts

Why is this man still holding MY BABY!?

Reluctantly gives you the baby and melts watching you both together.

Takes amazing photos.

Has already followed your instructions regarding cord clamping and placenta and relayed them to the nurses ahead of time

Encourages skin to skin

Bought you things to wear the newborn so your hands are free

Encourages whatever feeding style you want and will beat the shit out of anyone pressuring you.

Holds baby in carrier when you are wheeled out to your vehicle after your mandatory 3 day stay in recovery

(Blurb written as a Vaginal birth with Induction)

The night before you needed to check in you were a fucking mess. Sanemi was watching you pace and rearrange the baby’s room for the nth time. He learned way back in your early second, trimester to stay out of your way when nesting took over.  As much as he wanted to interject and tell you things will be ok and to just settle down, he knows that his words would fall on deaf ears. Instead, he used his trump card. Going to the freezer he grabbed a ziplock bag of frozen brown liquid.  He set it in a stockpot with some water and let it boil. Staying by the stove to make sure nothing caught on fire.  The aroma calls to you and pulls you into the room. “Wats thaaat?” you ask knowing exactly what you are smelling.

Sanemi smirks lifts the partially melted liquid in the ziplock out of the pot, drains the water then dumps the bags contents into the stock pot. “You know what this is.” he says calmly, his eyes smiling.  You cheer and waddle over to the stove and inhale deeply. He comes behind you and wraps his arms around you, rubbing your belly, gracing your neck with Featherlite kisses.  “Gumboooo!” the words come out of your mouth mixed with a moan of pleasure.  Your lover smiles into your neck, pleased he has distracted you.

“Go sit down. I’ll bring you a bowl. I got rice already done. You want the crab legs, claws or both?” He turns and guides you to the living room. Making sure you are tucked in comfortably on the couch while he waits for you to respond. “Both! Why is that even a question?” You stare at him like he is insane. “Just making sure. If you said anything but both or claw I would have to check you in early. Something would have been wrong.” he chuckles as he dodges the pillow you chuck at his head.

Sanemi tosses the remote at you then goes to get both of y’all a bowl of deliciousness. When he comes back you are watching “Ring the Doula”.  You enjoyed watching him squirm at all the crazy situations women had to give birth in back in the day and he enjoyed your enjoyment of his squickness.  It was a weird relationship.  

You ate and stayed like that till it was time for your check in. Sanemi carried all of your supplies and the baby bug out bag to y’all new Lexus RX. You got situated in the front seat while he preset up the car seat and set everything inside. He gives you control of the radio while you drive over. Singing along with you when he knows the tune. 

He looks calm as hell but it’s a Lake Placid effect. Under the surface he is a nervous wreck. Is he going to be a good dad? Will be able to provide enough support for you during labor? Will you throw him out the room? Will he be allowed to stay in the room? Are y’all crazy ass mutuals going to show up? These thoughts raced through his head as he parked, guided you up to the check in desk for L&D, got you comfortable in your room then went back out for your things.

He asks permission before he sets up your favorite console under the TV.  You are playing on your handheld console as him and another nurse get things situated. They play a friendly game of Boku no Yaiba: Training Camp Chronicles since there isn’t anything going on the floor at the moment.  Your OB shows up and gives you a brief rundown of how things will go. In an hour she will be back to start the induction process. You give her a thumbs up and ask if she wants to play at all. She declines needing to tend to another patient.

Your room quickly becomes the hangout spot. Nurses taking breaks to play games while they check on your monitors. Baby doing well. Sanemi gets reprimanded several times for being overly motherly towards you. Everyone reminds him baby isn’t here yet, you are fine, he doesn’t need to check in every 30 seconds.  He grumbles off to the side and texts Tengen on the phone with righteous indignation.  You snicker watching him mumble to himself.

The nurses cast curious glances at his scars. The both of you are aware and try to ignore it.  Eventually you have enough and summon him to your bedside so you can kiss the ones on his face. Making him blush while asking what is going on.  You shrug and go back to your game. His eyes look from you to the handheld gadget. Sighing he scoots you over and snuggles up next to you. Arms wrapped around you lovingly.

Your contractions started shortly after you nodded off to sleep. At first you thought they were gas. As the intensity grew it became clear that what you were feeling was 1000% NOT gas.  Your lover and fiancée was sleeping peacefully next to you. Limbs tangled up in yours.  Initially you decided to quietly suffer through assuming since them feeling wasn’t gas that it might have been Braxton-Hicks.  As the pain grew stronger and the time lessoned between the crests of pain something inside told you that you were going into labor. 

Carefully you tap the call button on your bed then nudge Sanemi awake. “ ‘nemi. Wake up. I need help.” You whispered to him. Anxiety rising quickly. Groggily he rises up and looks at you completely out of it. “Mmm? What do you need?” he asks barely awake. “I don’t know. It just hurts.” you whimper back to him.  He untangles himself from you pats the blankets in front of you, asking you to scoot forward silently. He slides in behind you after you move up and begins to rub your lower back while leaning his head against you. Murmuring words of confidence and encouragement to you.

As the pain increases you start to whimper more audibly. The nurses enter the room and are startled at first at the sight. Sanemi has his shirt off and that initial look at how badly marred his body is jarring to them. They are professionals though. Moving quickly, they ask what is the situation and he updates them. One pages your OB to ask what she would like to do as far as cervical checking and the other offers you the option of several pain relievers.

The information plus pain is a bit overwhelming for you. Sanemi picks up on it and envelops you in a hug. “It’s ok. Just say what you want. Nobody will judge you.” A nurse says sweetly next to you. “You are the star of the show. We are your supporting cast.” the other nurse chimes in happily. Your love peppers kisses along your neck to encourage you to say what you want. “I want the pain gone but I don’t want to seem weak.” you say quietly.

One of the nurses takes your hand and rubs it sympathetically. “There is no correct way to have a child. What matters if that you are comfortable. Content mothers make for smoother births. Even if you have a c-section it’s easier when mom is calm and happy. Let us help you.” she speaks in soothing tones.  Tears fall from your eyes and you ask for a walking epidural, feeling immense relief you aren’t being judged. The nurse beams at you and releases your hand. Immediately she requests an anesthesiologist. 

Your doc appears at the same time as your anesthesiologist. She does a quick cervical check and says you are at 7cm so making good progress but not quite there. Your pain doc promises you some quick relief and give you’re a spinal shot of the magic juice to take the pain away before he gets the walking epidural set up. The immediate relief is amazing. You moan happily.  Sanemi chuckles off to your side and thanks everyone for their assistance. Pulling your head into his bare chest as he comforts you.

Your doc and the anesthesiologist leave. One of your nurses stay with you and the three of you talk about Boku no Yaiba a little bit. You nod off again in Sanemi’s warmth.  The nurse politely excuses you and he nods in acknowledgement. 

Sanemi gets lost in thought as he thinks about the large change in his life about to happen.  Here you are in his arms peacefully sleeping away (which is grand!) and he is having a hard time wrapping his head around the event to come. How will he support you? Can he do what he needs to do? What you need him to do? Will he be his father?  These thoughts invade his mind once more. No matter how much you reassured him you were not his old man it was hard for him to believe he wouldn’t become like his father in the long run. 

He simmered in his thoughts before your nuzzling into him sleepily broke him out.  Sanemi shook his head and smiled down at you. He would not become the trash his father is.  Sliding his phone out of his picket he decided to answer the group chat that had formed in anticipation of baby’s birth. The messages were the normal well wishes and requests for updates. His little brother was particularly worried since you had left your special ghost king plush. He tells Genya to come on by and drop it off. It should be ok if he stays. Will give Sanemi someone to support him as well if he falters and needs to leave the room to regroup. Or his little brother can stay in with you.

Returning his phone to his pocket Sanemi leans backwards and pulls you more fully onto his chest. Hands stroking your sides and as he tells you how beautiful and amazing you are in your sleeping. Willing your dreams to be pleasant and happy. He observes how your dark sienna skin practically glowed and was flawless. Aesthetically, pregnancy had done you well. Your hair was thicker, fuller and you had the cutest, most amazing 60’s style panther fro he had ever seen. He loved it. He loved you.

You began to stir, nose wrinkled as you grimaced. “I think I need to go to the bathroom?  Something feels weird.” you grumble out sitting up and stretching.  Sanemi gave you a side eye from behind you that you weren’t able to see and he tapped the nurse call button. When one came in the room he asked for another check. Your waters had been ruptured at the start of the induction so you were on a time clock to get this baby out but that wasn’t what his gut was worried about.  Something told him that kiddo may be making an appearance.

You consented and he got off the bed to kneel beside it watching you with adoration and concern. The nurse barely started to check when her eyes went wide. “Oh my, that is a head. That is.... I’m going to call your OB. Somebody decided to stealth their entry into the world now that mama was relaxed.” she cheerfully stated then hurried out the room.  Your brain skidded to a halt as the words processed.

“Noooo.” you started unsure of your abilities to do this. Sanemi was up and tucking your head into his chest before you could finish that thought. “You got this. I am here. Genya is on his way because you forgot that damn plush. We’ll both be here for you. Whatever you need.” he reassured you.  Slowly you nodded your head. He grabbed a scrunchie out of your bag along with a brush and quickly did your hair up in a single puff.  You thanked him and asked him to stay with you.

Sanemi chuckled and kissed your forehead. “Awwwe, they are so cute and adorable. I am going to get cavities.” You both heard as the team walked in. Half of them setting up the weigh/ warming station for baby along with anything else they would need. The other half were at the foot of your bed. “How would you like to do this?” your OB asked you. Puzzled you tilted your head.

The room was awkwardly quiet as you didn’t know what she was talking about. Sanemi’s throat clearing broke the silent and he asked what was on your mind. “There are options?” he asked. The Ob nodded seriously. “Yes, you can stand up, kneel on all fours, sit, lay down, whatever is more comfortable for you.” she said.  Your eyes light up as you think of the options. “I would like to stand.” you say confidently.

Carefully you are helped up. Two nurses flank you and Sanemi stands in front of you. Supporting your body. The OB watches your monitors and gives you the all clear to trust your instincts and bear down when you need to. You do as you are bid trusting your body to do what it needs to do. Sanemi encouraging you the whole time, keeping you motivated and not letting doubt enter your mind.

The L&D staff watching with happy smiles at the touching scene playing out in front of them. The two of you were so into your own little world you didn’t notice Genya’s arrival or register his gasp of surprise.  He was so proud watching you and his big brother working together as one solid unit. Sanemi’s eyes were full of love and you were locked on them. It almost felt invasive for everyone else to be there with you both.

The OB called for you to do one final push and you nodded, giving your all into that last push. You felt the pressure in your groin disappear as the baby came out and your OB caught them.  You nodded to Sanemi and he released the hands supporting you to cut the cord while the two nurses braced you.  Another set of nurses guided him over to get baby cleaned up and taken care of.  Faintly you heard instructions for you to push out the placenta and you did as you were told. Your eyes locked on your newborn. Instinct telling you not to let them out of your sight.

The soft, angry wails of the child finally met your ears and you relaxed. Guided to the bed to get yourself cleaned up and comfortable. Sanemi barked at his little brother to give you the button up you had prepared for after delivery. Genya jumped into action and found the green BNY top and handed it to you, turning away to give you some privacy.  Gently you put it on and thanked him.  He nodded still facing away.

“Child” Sanemi ribbed his little brother. Ruffling his hair. Genya and you both went to scold him but stopped upon laying eyes on Sanemi.  He was smiling with tears streaming down his face. A tiny bundle wrapped in a BNY blanket tucked against his chest. He was the very image of a proud father. Looking down at the babe, Sanemi’s doubts vanished and all he could think of was how beautiful this tiny person was. Skin brown like yours, purple eyes like his. The hair was salt and pepper which was unusual but adorable on the tiny kidlet.

Reluctantly he gave the child to you when you coughed and asked for your baby. Genya snickered and Sanemi boxed his ears growling at his baby brother to shut the hell up.  You tuned them both out as you focused on the tiny person staring up at you. Turning the bundle so you could lay them on your chest, skin to skin, without flashing everyone in the room.  You booped your baby’s nose and marveled at how much they looked like the two of you.

Genya leaned over and introduced himself to your tiny human. Proudly asserting himself as Uncle. Telling the tiny baby all the things they would do once they were ready. You listened happily wondering how much Sanemi was going to let the two of them get up to as your child aged up.  The man on your mind was on the phone letting your friends know the good news. Mother and child were safe and getting to know each other. They could come over but try to keep the visit short because everyone was tired. None of Tengen’s flashy shit or Rengoku’s loud bullshit.  You rolled your eyes knowing that wasn’t ever going to happen. Nice wish though.

Genya slipped out along with the rest of the staff after your family unit was taken to a recovery room. Sanemi climbed into the bed behind you and held the both of you. Proud papa vibes rolling off of him and blessed mama glow on you. The three of you were picture perfect, which is why Genya snuck a picture of the moment before dipping back out into the hallway waiting for the rest of the group to arrive. Giving your new addition the time to get acquainted with their parents and some quiet time for the three of you.

Smiling he made a silent prayer and took out the charm he bought for the little one. Happy his brother had found someone to love and start a family. Joyful tears rolling as he thought of the times to come. He kissed the amulet and prayed for everyone’s continued safety and happiness. Then he simply stayed outside smiling against the wall and listened as the two new parents fawned over their child.  Sanemi roughly dragged him out of his musings saying that this was a family moment and Genya needed to get his ass in there.

Your family unit had grown by one and everyone was happy. Looking forward to what the future would hold and what mischief the newest Shinazugawa would get up to.