#i have been feeling uncharacteristically soft these last few weeks

[nekrosdolly]

this is based on nothing in particular but i think vergil would eat you out more eagerly while you're on your period.

cw; afab sub reader, dom vergil, pussydrunk vergil, blood drinking, very brief pussy sniffing, cunnilingus, reader is written to have pretty gnarly periods, somewhat soft vergil to start.

blood has never tasted so good, flowing steadily from your sweet cunt in ichor streams and into his mouth. while he's never been fond of getting blood on his clothing from demons, or perhaps having it stain his coat (god forbid it taint yamato), this is different. you needed him and he wanted you all the same.

your periods aren't usually so bad, but it seemed to be getting worse. especially this month- it had to have been the worst yet. vergil had gone out of his way to make sure you were beyond comfortable, hardly allowing you to leave his bed- yes, his bed, not your own. he didn't want you to be suffering without him there to support you. the blue twin was uncharacteristically doting for the entire week. while he wasn't a fan of physical affection, he kept snuggling up to you in hopes that the inhumane temperature his body keeps would be enough to dissuade your horrific cramps.

he fed you when asked, made you plenty of tea that was supposed to help, and kept a good distance when you got cranky. the last thing he needed was you, pissed off at him for trying to help. though he wouldn't blame you by any means- he was suffocating you. within good reason, of course.

vergil had brought your immense pain up to trish and lady as inconspicuously as he could as a means of asking for help. what could he do to lessen your suffering?

"give her head," trish's voice is blunt. lady nods in agreement from her spot beside the tall, blonde woman.

"orgasms make periods shorter and less painful. we would know."

you're in bed, lying on your side with a heating pad tucked to your lower abdomen. your cramps were lessened thanks to vergil's efforts (the heating pad, some tea, and food,) but not quite gone. you're wearing one of his shirts and some very loose shorts made for sleeping when vergil walks in, and he all but pounces on you. it's embarrassing, how quickly he gets a semi just from looking at you in his clothing, in his bed, smiling at him.

sharing blood is intimate, right?

you're so sweet, looking over your shoulder at him with a little smile and meager wave.

"hi, verg," you hum politely as he shrugs off his coat and sets on the coatrack hanging on the back of his door. he settles on the edge of his bed to unbuckle each strap on his ridiculous boots.

"how are you feeling?" you turn onto your back to watch him undress, gloved fingers undoing the complicated buttons on his shirt, then unzipping it. underneath lies a black tank top and like a victorian man, you swoon at the sight of his collarbones.

"um, still a little crampy, but fine," he nods once, peeking over his shoulder at you. his fists clench, then relax.

"would you like my assistance?" he stands, peeling off his grossly hot, sticky leather pants that you love because they "hug his ass." you shake your head softly, closing your eyes as another cramp storms your uterus.

"you've done enough, verg, i'm alright-" a sudden weight over you cuts you off, feeling the bed shift beside your head and hips. when you open your eyes, your dear half-devil is on top of you and damn-near purring. his hair is starting to break free from its slicked-back state, a few strands falling over his face. he looks hungry, his powder blue eyes dark and murky.

"let me help," he rasps, one leg shifting in between yours dangerously close to your cunt, "allow me."

never a patient man, he fights himself to be calm as you ponder your answer. period sex has always struck you as gross. besides, nobody wants to fuck someone while they're literally excreting blood and chunks of flesh- or so you think. the minute you nod, he's pulling your shorts off, your underwear (and subsequently, your pad,) slipping down with them.

at first, you expect him to pull his boxers down, but your eyes widen at the sight of him slithering between your legs so he's face-to-face with your bleeding cunt. he's perverted in his own special way, closing his eyes briefly as he sniffs your blood-slickened folds, making you squirm. you open your mouth in hopes of telling him to quit being weird, but he beats you to the punch when he licks a stripe up your seam, thus drawing a moan from you instead.

blood has never been so sweet. mixed with the taste of you, he's in heaven. your legs hook over his shoulders upon his guidance, his tongue delving into your leaking entrance to taste more and more gore. plush thighs hug the sides of his head, making him hiss quietly as he forces them to part. red coats his chin, nose, and lips as he eagerly fucks you with his tongue, nails digging into your skin. drowned out beneath your noises of pleasure, soft noises of his own bubble in his throat.

you should've put a towel down, an afterthought that strikes you as he withdraws his tongue from your fluttering walls to lap at your clit with hunger only a vampire might have after tasting blood. your back arches, a cry leaving you when he sucks at your pulsing clit. he'd never say it aloud, but he loves getting you off. seeing you in such a pretty state, spread out or pressed against him, moaning until your throat was raw and tears spilled from your eyes all because of him- his tongue, his fingers, his dick, whatever it may be.

to vergil's disappointment, blood continues to seep out of you and onto the bedsheets instead of in his mouth, so he suckles on your clit until he's sure you're close before rubbing it with his thumb eagerly, forcing his tongue inside your cavern yet again. he growls into your cunt at the taste again, his mind hazy with the need to keep drinking you in. he can taste your arousal mixing with crimson, fueling him to keep going. the now sharp-ish tip of his tongue prods at your spongy g-spot, a pleased purr emitting from his chest at the way you're crying out for him to continue.

the hands on your hips gain a rough quality, his once-dull nails pricking into the soft skin of your thighs and dear god, his tongue- ribbed down the sides and pointed at the very end- fucks you masterfully.

"vergil," you reach down to take his hand, your climax fast approaching, only to find a scaly mass where his human hand once was. a quick glance downwards tells you all you need to know: he's triggering, albeit only halfway. sharp, glowing blue eyes meet yours and it's like he knows you're going to cum, your tight walls squeezing his tongue like they would his cock.

"i-i love you," you whine, a sound that falls short in comparison to the volume of the slurping and squelching filling the air. your hands grasping for something to hold onto as your climax fast approaches. your lover takes your hand in his clawed one with a soft grip. your head falls back against the pillow, squirming against his mouth. he purrs, nose nuzzling into your puffy clit. the vibrations send you tumbling over the edge.

with a cry, you cum hard on his tongue. he laps up your release and blood combined, a soft moan leaving him as he tastes you so sweetly. fire lights your veins, white-hot and all-consuming as he tongue-fucks you through your heady high, thighs shaking under his rough hands. he doesn't stop, burying himself in you until you're whining, pleading for him to stop with crystalline tears that he wants to lick away. with a soft tug to his hair, you pull him off and he allows you. but not before pressing a kiss on your overworked clit.

standing from between your legs, ichor coats his face from the nose-down. it's dripping from his chin down his neck, soaking into the collar of his tank top. it's enough to make you squirm under his gaze and pull your shirt down to cover yourself. red-stained (human) tongue pokes from between his lips to lap at the blood left on them, pale blue eyes boring into your own.

"...i'm going to get a tampon in," you mutter, getting out of bed on shaky legs and meandering to his en-suite bathroom. luckily, he's kept a small stash of period products for you ever since you started dating.

in the wake of your absence, his eyes travel to the tempting bloodstain on his bed. he has half a mind to lean down and nuzzle his face into it, perhaps try to suck the crimson from the stain in order to taste you again. he doesn't. instead, he waits by the bathroom door for you to finish so he can wash himself of your fluids, albeit reluctantly.

-

in the end, when he's holding your unconscious body against his in a tight manner, soft snores falling from your lips, he presses a ghost of a kiss on the shell of your ear.

"i love you," the sound of his voice is lost with the wind blowing through the cracked window, just how he would like it to be.

[coloriza]

"(For how long? No matter. A moment is forever.)" — Virginia Woolf

[bunnis-monsters]

OK SO- I fou d you from your werebunny post which-

BTW

Was really good?? I- it made me feel things- If possible, more werebunny crumbs please? It could go either sfw or nsfw, I don't mind! (Or both but its up to you!)

NSFW

It’s always fun watching his cotton tail wag with excitement when you’re near. He has the cutest pink nose, soft bunny ears and a fluffy tail that goes crazy with every kiss and touch.

Momo, your pretty bunny, really enjoyed having you near. His heart would explode with joy every time you kissed him, his bunny ears flicking as his nose twitched.

“Mmph… love~”

He couldn’t stand being apart from you, living in separate homes just wasn’t an option. He set up a nest in your room within weeks of your first meeting, unable to be away from you for more than a few minutes.

Lately, he had been extra clingy, and very possessive, which was uncharacteristic for him. Usually he was pretty submissive and sweet, almost like a lap pet that wanted all of your attention… but now he was more like a guard dog, constantly on alert, his body always subtly in front of yours.

It was only when you woke up to him humping your leg, his face buried in your neck that you realized what was going on.

He was in some kind of heat or rut… whatever it was, it was making him cling to you, desperate to mate and keep you safe.

All he wanted was to be close to you. The first stage of his rut had him making a cozy little nest in your bed, then spending all his his time snuggling you, his cute fluffy tail wagging furiously as he pulled you in for more kisses and nibbles.

The next stage… you weren’t ready for. You had sec with Momo before, but this was his rut. He was insatiable, fucking into your cunt fast and hard, unlike to gentle, sweet love making you usually experienced.

And his stamina was way too high, one breeding session lasting nearly 5 hours. Every time he came, he bit down on your shoulder or neck, his hips fitting against you as he begged for your forgiveness.

“Sorry, so sorry… just need it so bad, angel! Need to… g-give you my litter!”

After each session, he ignored his own exhaustion and pampered you, purring and bathing you, letting your head rest on his chest as his cotton tail wagged. Momo felt terrible, breeding you for so long… but he just couldn’t help it! His rut made him so horny, and he could only focus on filling you with cum and impregnating you!

But he adored you so, making sure you were treated like a princess once your baby bump began to show. Momo was so proud, not able to keep his hands off of your belly.

“My princess… gonna be a good mommy, the best…”

[ellemj]

Time & Temptation - Roommates w/ Benefits Pt. 4

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Read parts 1-3 first if you haven't!

Summary: The somewhat hostile dynamic between you and Bucky shifts the morning after a questionable chain of events. The tension between you seems to be mostly resolved...until it isn't.

Warnings: profanity, teasing, alcohol consumption, mentions of previous smut, gunshot wounds, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: It took me too long to write this and I don't love it, but it'll do. My mind has been all over the place lately and I have a hundred different things going on irl. Side note for anyone who reads my A/Ns, I kinda wanna post a pic of me in a slutty little dress next week for absolutely no reason. That questionable decision is still under advisement.

            Bucky wakes up to an ache in his side and the feeling of a wet sheet stuck against his bare abdomen. He doesn’t even have to open his eyes fully to know it’s his wounds from last night, bleeding through the bandages you’d fashioned for him. He heals quickly, but deeper wounds take a little more time. Only a couple of minutes later, Bucky is standing in front of the bathroom mirror, pressing a wet cloth to the exit wound on his lower left side. The bandage you put on his lower left back is still intact and fine, but the one in front just didn’t cut it.

            Fuck, I’m cumming. Those three little words in your soft, breathy voice suddenly come to the forefront of Bucky’s mind. That’s the final thing he heard last night before he fell asleep. It all comes flooding back to him. The charged banter in the kitchen, the teasing, locking yourselves in your separate bedrooms for the night and then getting yourselves off. He remembers your moans and whimpers carrying through the walls, straight to his ears. What the hell were you the two of you thinking? You weren’t thinking, and Bucky sure as hell wasn’t thinking.

            He glances down and peels the wet cloth away from his skin but sees a fresh stream of blood threatening to spill from the wound and drip into the waistband of his sweats, so he quickly presses it to his skin again and braces his free hand against the edge of the bathroom sink. He’s so lost in thought about last night that he doesn’t even notice your bedroom door opening a few feet down the hall and you shuffling out in your oversized t-shirt.

            “Are you bleeding again?” Your raspy morning voice has an almost uncharacteristic meekness to it, and Bucky freezes at the sound of it. His gaze flits to the side and he sees you through the open bathroom door, standing a few feet down the hall, staring at him. Your hair is messy and your faded blue shirt looks like it could be fifteen years old, but your appearance and your soft tone send a bit of blush to his cheeks.

            “It’s fine, it’s not bad.” He says flatly, watching as your eyes float down his bare torso and land on the red-tinged cloth he’s holding against his abs. You don’t listen to a word he says, and instead quickly begin walking toward him. You can tell it really isn’t all that bad as you place your palm over his hand and force him to pull the cloth away. It’s a steady bleed but it’s by no means a major hemorrhage.

            “Are you going to let me fix it?” You ask, letting go of his hand and letting him press the cloth back to the wound. You stand between him and the bathroom vanity now, looking up at him with a raised brow. Bucky doesn’t really understand the difference in the dynamic of last night versus the dynamic of this morning. You were up in arms all yesterday evening after the incident at the club, and then the entire drive back to the apartment and even in the kitchen you were pissy with him. Is one self-serving orgasm all it takes to completely turn your mood around? Is that why you’re almost being nice this morning? Bucky’s confusion is evident on his face, but you continue to wait for his answer.

            “You’re asking this time?”

            “If you want to bleed out on the bathroom floor I won’t interfere, but try not to stain the rugs.” You say, rolling your eyes at his stubbornness. Bucky gauges the situation. You’re in a better mood than yesterday, it almost seems like you’ve forgotten the disaster that was last night’s mission. He isn’t going to ruin that and end up with you driving him mad for the rest of the day.

            A few moments later, Bucky is sitting on the edge of the bathtub as you sit on your knees between his feet, using a special kind of quick-clotting gauze to fashion a new bandage for his wound. The atmosphere around the two of you doesn’t feel so electrically charged this time, there isn’t an undeniable tension threatening to snap with a single word or touch. Bucky peers down at you with a cloudy gaze as you carefully size the gauze and place it where it needs to be. He can’t help but wonder for a moment how the two of you went from sharing takeout and beer on his couch to being at each other’s throats yesterday. He thinks back to the night he invited you in, the night he said that you and Vision should switch apartments. He liked you that night. After your second beer, you talked to him like you hadn’t lived across the hall from each other for 6 months and simply been acquaintances all of that time. He never would have thought he’d end up taking a bullet for you within the first two days of sharing a place.

            The sound of a key sliding into the apartment door catches the attention of you both, and your hands falter against Bucky’s lower abdomen as you look up at him with questioning eyes. Does Vision still have a key?

            “Bucky, I swear to god if you laid up in this apartment and bled to death last night—” Sam stops short when the apartment door swings shut behind him and his eyes land on the two of you. He can see straight down the short hallway, through the open bathroom door, to where you sit between Bucky’s feet on the floor, still facing his torso. “Shit, I should’ve knocked.”

            “Why the hell do you have a key to my apartment?” Bucky asks gruffly, lifting one hand from the edge of the bathtub and running it through his hair. It takes Sam two more seconds to figure out that it’s you on the floor, and that you’re not doing Bucky the kind of favor you appear to be doing him.

            “Why the hell are the two of you half-dressed, sitting in there like that?” Sam’s question reminds you that you’re not wearing any pants. You let out a soft sigh before continuing your work on Bucky’s wound, placing the last piece of medical tape firmly against his skin to secure the three layers of gauze you so neatly arranged. “Wait, did you sleep here last night?” Sam asks with an obvious hint of amusement in his tone. Bucky narrows his eyes at the man and notices the playful smile taking over his features across the apartment.

            “Why are you here, Sam?” Bucky responds with his own question. Placing your hands on Bucky’s knees, you push yourself up to a standing position and step away from him. For the quickest moment, he's staring right at the line where your t-shirt ends and your thighs begin, but then you’re gone, moving to the sink to wash your hands, and he’s left staring at Sam.

            “I texted you three times last night and you didn’t answer me once. It’s sort of basic human decency to respond to texts after you’ve been shot.” Sam points out. He walks further into the apartment and turns in the direction of the kitchen. You shoot Bucky a look over your shoulder as you dry your hands on a towel. It’s a look that says are we not telling Sam I moved in here? Bucky understands it instantly and returns it with his own look that says I don’t know what to tell him. So, neither of you say anything about it.

            You head back to your own room to find some pants while Bucky heads to the kitchen to see what Sam’s on about.

            “It’s making more sense now.” Sam chuckles, just as Bucky rounds the corner of the hall and comes into his view. Sam pulls the fridge open and starts rummaging through its limited contents, searching for any semblance of breakfast food. Bucky leans his back against the nearest edge of the kitchen counter and listens to the soft fabric sounds down the hall as you search for a pair of sweats to pull on.

            “What is?”

            “You two being at each other’s throats last night. It didn’t make sense to me then but it makes sense now.” Sam has a shit-eating grin plastered across his face as he closes the fridge and turns around to face Bucky.

            “How so?” Bucky really shouldn’t be egging him on, but here he is.

            “You’re into each other.” Sam says assuredly. Bucky scoffs, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his still bare chest. “She slept over last night, didn’t she? Did you two take your heated differences straight to the bedroom after I dropped you both off here?”

            “I slept in my own bed last night.” You interject. You’re tying the drawstrings on a pair of joggers as you step into the kitchen and shoot both of the men passing glances. Your claim may be blurring the truth in the slightest way, but it’s not a lie. Sam looks between the two of you with narrowed eyes and disbelief written all over his face.

            “Fine. I’ll give it a rest.” Sam concedes, holding his hands up. He steps toward the middle of the kitchen and plants his hands on the surface of the island while you begin filling a small glass with water. Bucky’s eyes are heavy on you. He’s watching you closely, and you can tell, though your back is to him.

One orgasm. One orgasm is all it took to turn you back into the girl you were when he found you standing outside of his door with a bag of takeout and an offer to share with him. He doesn’t even tune into what you and Sam begin conversing about. He’s stuck in his head, thinking about how you went from becoming his roommate, to becoming his enemy, to patching him up, and then to getting yourself off at the end of it all. He thinks if he dwells on the chain of events too long, he may end up with whiplash.

—

            You lie on your back on the living room floor with the backs of your thighs against the front side of the couch and your lower legs resting atop the seat cushion. You’re two and a half beers in and feeling buzzed, listening to good music and drowning in your own thoughts when you hear the apartment door handle turning.

            Bucky had been out with Sam all day after he stopped by this morning. They were doing a bit of recon on Elias Leveaux. It was something you should’ve been a part of, and Sam had indeed asked you to ride over to SHIELD headquarters with them and spend the day working on it, but you politely declined.

            “After last night, I think I deserve a day off.” You had said. “I would’ve nailed him last night if someone hadn’t interfered.” You were obviously referring to Bucky.

            “I’m sure you would have.” Bucky grumbled back. You knew exactly what he was implying, yet your only response was a roll of your eyes in his direction and a friendly goodbye to Sam before they left.

            You turn your head to the side and watch as the door swings open and Bucky steps inside, immediately looking to his right and taking in the sight of you half on the floor and half on the couch, with a couple of empty bottles and a few unopened ones scattered around your body. The first thing you notice when you meet his gaze is how tense he looks. You can see the beginnings of dark circles forming under his eyes, the way the muscles in his neck and jaw look taut, the unreadable look on his face. You’re sure he planned to come in, shower, and go straight to bed, even though it’s barely past eight at night. You’re so sure he had no intention of engaging with you, especially after last night. After the heated exchange in the kitchen and the following mutual masturbation through the walls of the apartment he probably wanted nothing more than to pretend you don’t exist. Letting you patch him up again this morning was likely just a lapse in judgment, or maybe he’d forgotten about last night entirely. For a second, you get the horrifying feeling that your moans and sensual sounds might’ve actually been forgettable for him. Wait, why does that possibility bother you?

            As you lie on your shared living room floor, still staring at Bucky as you overthink, he starts tugging off his leather jacket.

            “Drink with me.” You say softly, nudging one of the unopened bottles of beer across the floor with your index finger. Bucky drops his jacket on the arm of the couch nearest to him and weighs his options. He can hear a hot shower calling his name, but the way you’re looking at him is tugging at him a little more than it should. You smile to yourself when he narrows his eyes at you, yet sinks into the far seat of the couch and reaches down to the floor, accepting the beer you pushed in his direction. “Did you guys find anything good today?” You ask, returning your gaze back to the ceiling above.

            “Nothing you don’t already know.” Bucky pops the cap of the beer with ease and raises the bottle to his lips, taking one long sip.

            “But you were out there for almost twelve hours.” You say incredulously, giving him a questioning side-eye. Bucky raises a brow at you and cocks his head to one side.

            “You were counting?”

            “Counting every hour of pure, rejuvenating quiet time I got today.” You retort.

            “Oh? After what I heard last night, I was sure that quiet wasn’t really your thing.” The words leave Bucky’s mouth and they come as a shock to him as much as they do to you. He’d like to blame the beer for his slip of the tongue, but only being one sip in and having the metabolism that he does renders the excuse unusable.

            “If you want to talk about that, can we also talk about your volume? I heard you loud and clear, soldier.” With your heavenly sounds from last night replaying in his mind, Bucky begins to notice the way the front of his pants are starting to have a little less room than usual. He takes another sip of his beer and lifts his gaze from where you are on the floor to look out the windows making up the wall to your left. Ignore it, he thinks to himself.

            “You started it.” He grumbles, his words sounding a bit like those of a child. You laugh to yourself as you tug your legs down from the couch and move to sit upright on the floor.

            “But we both finished it, didn’t we?” When you look into each other’s eyes this time, you’re definitely feeling the effects of the drinks you downed before he made it back home. You’re thinking about him wrapping his hand around the shaft of his hard cock, working up and down the length of it while he lies in his bed and listens to you through the walls. You’re lost in thought, as evidenced by the look on your face, and Bucky narrows his eyes at you.

            “Is that why you seemed so normal this morning?” The question comes tumbling out before he can second-guess himself and stop his tongue from forming the words. “Because you…finished?” He chooses to go with your safe choice of words.

            “I seemed normal this morning?” You raise a brow at him. He runs a hand through his messy hair and holds his beer atop his knee with the other hand.

            “You weren’t pissed like you were yesterday.” He’s watching you carefully, studying the way your expression softens and your eyes roll away from him, toward the ceiling again.

            “I guess an orgasm does that to a girl.”

            As the two of you continue drinking in the unexpectedly comfortable silence, you find yourself wondering if last night’s orgasm did him as much good as it did you. You woke up feeling refreshed and at ease, even though, just as Bucky said, you were pissed yesterday. It was the perfect solution to your anger. Just by listening to Bucky and touching yourself you were able to lull yourself into a nice sleep and your bad mood had seemingly dissipated by sunrise this morning.

            “Maybe you should do that more often.” Bucky says under his breath. Though he doesn’t know why he decided to say it, he didn’t feel like holding the words back. He watches you with the most nonchalant gaze as your lips part and your eyes begin to search his. He shouldn’t have said it, he knows that. But it’s just like when he said maybe you and Vision should switch rooms. He sits down and drinks with you and somehow, his inhibitions melt away and he says shit that he shouldn’t say. He watches as your bewildered expression turns into a more adjusted, thoughtful expression. You push yourself up off of the floor, coming to stand on your bare feet as you continue looking into his steely blue eyes.

            “On my own?” Now Bucky’s the bewildered one. He does a good job of masking it as he sips on his beer, but you know you’ve gotten to him with just three little words. You smirk at him before turning on your heel and bending over to gather your empty bottles from the floor. You don’t even think about the view you’re giving him. You have no idea that the combination of your insinuating question and your current stance in front of him have his cock straining against the fabric of his jeans. He draws his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down, squeezing his eyes shut for a second until he hears the clang of the last beer bottle being gathered into your arms. He looks back at you just as you’re turning around to face him once more.

            Fuck it. Bucky shrugs his shoulders and you shoot him a quizzical look, frozen in place a foot to his right, with all of those bottles in your grasp. You follow every move he makes as he rises from the couch and downs the last sip of his beer, keeping his eyes trained on yours. His stare is hard and penetrating, feeling as if it’s going right through you.

            “Did I say on your own?”

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[undiscovered-horizon]

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

[Just a sunny afternoon with bear Halsin. What more can a heart desire?]

Halsin claims that sleeping in his bear form provides better rest. Whether that is true or not, you have no way to know. But no matter what the truth is, the druid comes out the winner anyway: he's lightly napping, drifting in and out of slumber, while you're leaning against him.

For the past week, it's been raining on and off. Cold wind nipped at your skin, even sneaking its way into your tent and making sure you shuddered uncomfortably for an hour or two before finally falling asleep. Nighttime storms left you carrying drenched clothes for long hours.

But today, the weather is exceptionally nice. Warm sunlight is peeking through the crowns of the tall trees. Wind, much gentler than for the past few days, is only strong enough to make long blades of grass sway from side to side. Even birds seem to enjoy the change - their melodic songs are carried by the forest's echo.

Halsin and you have decided to spend your day off from travelling in a small gathering. Although your companions-turned-friends are a delightful bunch, the rather crowded camp doesn't allow much liberty in terms of intimacy. Not to mention the sheer noise of so many people going about their day, cramped in one place...

The woods are as silent as nature can be - filled with rustling, birdsong, chirping and chirring. It's the whispering of nature, Silvanus himself enjoying the chatter of his creations. On days as pleasant as today, it wouldn't be too far-fetched to think that he's wandering among the trees, checking in on things, so to speak.

Your back is leaning against Halsin's massive bear frame. With each of his sleepy, shallow breaths, your entire body is moving along them. Every now and then, he lets out a snore and you can't help the loving smile curling your lips. When was the last time he was allowed so much peace?

Dry paper rustles as you turn over the page. Your voice resounds in this part of the woods as you continue reading aloud the book you found just a few days ago. It's a typical, run-of-the-mill court drama but written well enough to have you thinking about something other than the rather unwelcome guest squirming inside your skull.

But the tale of prudish ladies and cunning servants is suddenly brought to a halt as you yawn and stretch your arms. It's been at least an hour or two since Halsin and you have sat down.

The bear underneath you opens one of his eyes curiously. His careful gaze studies your visibly tired face.

"Lay with me, my heart," he says in a groggy voice. There is nothing pressuring about his tone but you feel so enticed to fulfil his words that you don't have the mind to argue against.

Soon you find yourself lying on the ground, cuddled into the side of a bear. Which, by itself, sounds quite funny. And you do chuckle quietly but not because you find the situation humours - no, it's the all-consuming cosiness that makes you uncharacteristically giddy. His fur is thick and soft, as though a moment of distraction could cause you to fall into him.

Halsin, consciously or not, shift his bear body to engulf you a little more. Although a frame of that size is awkward to manoeuvre, he tries to fit his body around your curled-up physique. If it wasn't for the absolutely crushing weight of his wildshape form, Halsin would probably lay himself on top of you to satiate his desire to take care of you.

For the first time in long weeks, snuggled up to a snoring bear, you feel content and safe.

___

I have thought about having a nap with bear Halsin like two weeks ago and that thought has not left ever since. Actually, I think it's already built a house in my head.

[joelscruff]

(not a request, just wanted to share💗💗💗💗💗) I saw this on a prompt list “I wasn’t ready to say goodbye” and why is this so bfs dad joel and reader😢 my heart ughhhh

also yes to the glasses

words (boyfriend's dad!joel x f!reader) 18+

ik you said this wasn't a request, anon but this inspired me so much ;-; get ready for sadness. combining this with a request from @rrrrosie: Okay, boyfriends dad has been on my mind like crazy! Like I swear I’d just slip and tell him ‘I love you’. And he’d totally try and not say it back even if he wants to because he knows the situation they are in is so messed up. But omg he’s such a SAFE character. Idk Maybe this is a request?? Idk 😭

this fic is a direct sequel to "prove it". you can find the other fics in this series on my masterlist. and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip!

summary: you and joel are left reeling from your boyfriend's discovery. rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) warnings: daddy!kink, oral (m receiving), praise kink word count: 2.2k

it's been a week since you last saw your boyfriend, since that moment in his car where you'd suspected he knew what was going on between you and his dad. it's been one long week of anxiety, worry, sadness, and now - acceptance.

joel hasn't texted you since that night and you have no idea if something happened, if your boyfriend went home and confronted him. you figured it might take a few days for them to sort out their issues, but a week? a week with complete radio silence? it's so uncharacteristic for them to be so distant, especially your boyfriend who you thought would've come back to give you a piece of his mind.

you've now accepted that things have changed. what exactly that change is, you don't know, but you're desperate to find out. the distance from your boyfriend has been welcome, even a relief, but the distance from joel...your heart aches just thinking about it. you want him to hold you again and tell you everything will be okay.

so when you show up on their front porch on a sunday afternoon you're not sure what to expect. you ring the doorbell and wait, biting your lip and fidgeting while you wait to see who'll greet you.

you feel warmth flood your chest when joel opens it, a soft smile spreading on his face when he sees it's you; he looks tired, like he hasn't slept properly in a few days, "hi."

you don't say anything, just rush forward and wrap your arms around him tightly, feeling tears already stinging in your eyes. it's been a whole week without seeing him and the emotions you feel are almost too much, all the worry you'd felt bubbling to the surface again as you bury your face in his neck.

"shhh, it's okay," he whispers, rubbing your back soothingly, "i'm sorry."

"joel," you whimper into his jacket, shutting your eyes tight and letting a sob wrack through you, "daddy."

he seems to stiffen under your touch at the name, and when you pull back to look at him you're beyond confused to see that he seems uncomfortable, grimacing a bit as he pulls out of your embrace. you feel your mouth downturn into a frown, tears spilling down your face.

"you don't want me to call you that anymore," it's a statement, not a question. you can sense the truth of it in his body language, in the way he looks at you now like he's about to break some awful news to you, "this is over, isn't it?"

he exhales deeply at the question, "come inside," he says softly, tugging on your arm and urging you to follow him, "let's talk."

nothing good can come from this.

you walk down the hall slowly, joel leading you with your hand in his as you reach the staircase and begin to climb. you assess the house a bit, looking around for any sign of your boyfriend.

"he's not here," joel says quietly, "he doesn't live here anymore."

you're not sure what to make of that, eyes still scanning the house once you reach the upstairs hallway. you and joel head for his office, a path you've crossed many times before but never in such a state of dread. something bad is going to happen, you can feel it.

you enter his office and settle on the couch, crossing your arms and watching him shut the door behind you. he doesn't bother to lock it; if what he said is true, your boyfriend won't be interrupting you this time.

"why can't i call you daddy?" you ask immediately, voice firm and serious, trying not to let the tears still flowing down your face completely betray you.

he sighs, squeezes the bridge of his nose under his glasses and walks over to you. he nudges you, quietly asking you to make room for him to sit beside you.

"a lot has happened," he says softly, reaching out to take your hand and squeezing it gently, "i just...i need to talk to you like an adult."

it's only then that you realize he hasn't used a single one of your pet names when he's spoken to you. no baby, babygirl, angel, nothing. it's almost like he's being too formal, like this is some kind of business transaction and not a real conversation.

"what happened?" you breathe, tears still streaming down your face, "what did he do? does he know?"

he almost laughs at your questions but without any humor, shaking his head slowly and reaching into his back pocket to show you his phone, "he looked at our messages."

your blood runs cold; you and joel haven't texted that much but your messages are more than enough proof for your boyfriend to have realized what was going on.

"oh god," you murmur, "so he...he knows knows."

"he knows you call me daddy, yeah," he says quietly, voice slightly rough with anger, "he said i was a sick man."

"you're not," you say immediately, shaking your head and inching forward a bit more on the couch, "joel, you're not. i want it just as much as you do, you know that."

"i know," he closes his eyes then, takes a deep breath, "anyway, he said he couldn't look at me the same anymore. said it made him sick to his stomach. not just because it was with you, it was everything as a whole," his mouth twists and you can hear raw emotion in his voice, "he moved out, i don't know where he went. i just hope he's alright."

"i don't give a fuck about him," you reply coldly, "i could care less."

"you're not his father," joel replies, shaking his head, "he's hurting, i hurt him."

"by doing what? so i call you daddy, so fucking what?" you feel anger begin to burn in your stomach, "yeah i cheated on him but that's on me, not you. you didn't do anything."

he pulls back from you, releasing your hand and standing up to walk over to his desk. you watch as he settles in the chair across from you and tilts his head back to look at the ceiling.

"it's wrong," he says, voice breaking at the words, "i know it feels good but it's wrong and it has to stop."

you look at him with an expression of pure disbelief, brow furrowing in sadness and confusion. he looks over at you once, just once, and you see he's fighting back tears just saying the words.

"you don't mean that and we both know it," you whisper, shaking your head, "this is more than some silly game we play together, you know that."

he takes a breath, leans forward and puts his head in his hands, "don't say that," he murmurs, voice muffled.

"we care about each other," you continue, standing up and walking over to the chair where he sits, "joel, why the fuck do you think i call you daddy? really?"

he slowly pulls his face up from his hands to look at you, tears swimming in his eyes, "don't," he breathes, "please."

"you're the only person in my life who's ever truly taken care of me," you kneel down so you're at his level, reaching forward to take both his hands in yours, "yeah you fuck me, you use me when i ask you to, but you protect me. you hold me. you listen to me and you kiss me and you mean it." you drop his hands and slowly ease your palms over his thighs, squeezing gently, "i feel so safe when i'm with you, joel."

you hear the low rumble of a groan in his throat as he looks down at you on your knees, thumbing his thighs. "what are you doin'?"

"just let me take care of you," you whisper, tears drying on your face as you reach forward to pop the button on his jeans, "please, joel. just this once and then i'll leave."

you can see the protests burning behind his lips but he doesn't say any of them. he watches as you pull down his zipper and take his cock out, already half hard. he'd said last time that he was always turned on by just seeing you, hugging you; it hadn't been a lie.

"just feel it, don't think," you whisper, then carefully wrap your lips around the tip of his cock.

he hums immediately, jaw going slack as he watches you swallow him down, already growing harder in the wet heat of your mouth. you feel his hands in your hair, pulling you closer as you slowly bob up and down. it's different this time; he's not the man who protects you and always gives you what you want. he's just joel, your ex boyfriend's father who deserves a quiet moment of pleasure for himself.

he whispers your name; not a pet name, your actual name. it's rare for either of you to just be completely yourselves in a moment like this. there's always been the added sexy addition of the power dynamic, the words that separate you both from being on the same level. but that's not what this is.

"just like that," he whispers, "fuck, that feels good."

he's fully hard now, the head of his cock bumping against the back of your throat. you do your best not to gag, holding him there and swallowing around him as his hips buck gently. you reach up and thumb the v of his hips, still half hidden by his underwear. your eyes are hooded and hazy but you can see his soft belly and his happy trail, all the parts of him you love most.

you pull off to take a few breaths, drool spilling down your chin as you slowly stoke him, looking up at him with a soft smile as he peers down at you. you lean forward and press a kiss to the fat head, lap up his precome and revel in the way he moans.

"tell me when you're close," you breathe, then take his full length in your mouth again and start to bob up and down a bit faster, nails digging lightly into his skin.

he holds your hair firmly, helps you move back and forth on his dick as you give him what he needs, "i love your mouth so much," you hear him groan softly, shakily, "you're so fucking perfect."

tears sting your eyes but you're not sure if it's from your actions or his words. either way you feel your throat tighten around him and he groans again, low and deep.

"gonna come," he warns you softly.

you nod but don't remove yourself from him, just take him as deep as you can and hum around his length, urging him on. it only takes a few more bobs of your head before his hand is tightening in your hair and he's coming in your mouth.

"fuck," he groans out, trembling beneath you.

you wait until he's stopped coming to slowly pull yourself from his cock. he looks down at you, looking more tired and sleepy than he had when he'd first opened the door for you. without him asking you to, you open your mouth and show him the thick globs of his come pooling on your tongue.

"swallow." he whispers.

you do as you're told.

there's a few moments of silence as you carefully slip him back inside his pants and do him back up. his hand stays glued to the back of your head, thumb stroking you gently back and forth as he watches you. he looks exhausted, it makes your heart ache.

"i still want you," you breathe, squeezing his thighs through his jeans again soothingly, "i'll always want you, daddy."

"i know, babygirl," he breathes, barely a whisper, "but you need to give me some time. please."

your grip on his thighs loosen as you peer up at him. he's looking at you with an expression you've never seen before, truly pained and full of sadness. it hurts to look at.

you feel yourself nod slowly, "okay," you whisper, voice shaky, "if that's what you want."

he doesn't say anything else, just watches as you ease up from the floor and walk over to his office door, turning back to give him one last glance before you leave.

"i love you," you whisper, soft and sincere, "but you already know that."

you shut the door behind you and shuffle quietly down the stairs. part of you still expects to hear sound effects from some game coming from your boyfriend's room, but there's nothing. you take a quick peek inside on your way to the front door, eyes widening when you see that the whole room has been cleared out. his gaming set-up is gone, his clothes, even his bed.

the emptiness makes you understand why joel is hurting.

just as you reach the front door you suddenly hear footsteps coming from behind you. you turn, surprised to see joel appear on the stairs.

"joel?" you ask softly, confused.

he walks toward you and fully embraces you in a tight hug, holding you close to him in the way you love most. you hug him back immediately without any hesitation, squeezing his body and making sure he feels just as safe and protected as you do.

"i wasn't ready to say goodbye," he whispers, still holding you tight.

you let him hold you for as long as he needs.

[strawberrystepmom]

nanami x gn!reader. a christmas surprise from your favorite man. this is a repost from my sweetest season event last year ⭐️

On the surface, Nanami Kento is nothing but composed.

Perfectly gelled hair, soft blonde strands in place away from his face. Pressed slacks, glistening wristwatch, a soft moss green cashmere sweater - if he were a model from a magazine you’d believe it. But he’s sitting next to you, gazing deeply into your eyes, a storm of emotion swirling inside of him.

His golden gaze is tender, his affection for you unspoken but unwavering and today he has a very important question to ask.

One of his hands is wrapped so hard around a small square box in his pocket he’s afraid the delicate little hinges will break. His palm is uncharacteristically sweaty and it’s all he can think about despite how softly you’re smiling at him from your spot across the couch.

A man who has killed, seen death at the hands of others, experienced loss larger than any one man should have to and he’s afraid to ask four little words. The absurdity isn’t lost on him. His palms feel clammy once more.

The tremendous weight of his losses is what finally made him decide to stop putting off making things official with you. Kento has loved you from the moment you smiled in his direction. You are a bright sunbeam in the otherwise gray world he lives in and what kind of man wouldn’t want to bottle sunlight forever if they could?

He knows making you a permanent part of his life puts you at risk and that it’s deeply selfish. He bought the ring on your first date two and a half years ago. He has spent every day since weighing the pros and cons of asking in his mind. With Christmas around the corner, he decided a few weeks ago the time is now.

“Darling?”

Kento’s voice wraps around you like velvet and you smile at the sound, the comforting familiarity. He reaches out toward you and delicately places his palm against yours, fingers lacing together.

“I have something to ask you, if that’s alright.”

You can feel your mouth go dry at the thought of what he may ask. Today has been nothing short of idyllic, starting with a beautiful walk through flurries and breakfast and ending with the two of you cozy next to a fire.

“Of course. Anything.”

His cheeks redden, eyes glancing down from yours for a moment as he sighs deeply. Anxiety pulses through his body but he knows if he doesn’t do it now, he may never get the chance to. Clearing his throat you lean forward and squeeze his fingers in between yours and you notice the way his pocketed hand is tensed.

“You are the greatest gift this life has ever given me,” he starts, voice thick with emotion. Kento said when he returned to working as a sorcerer that he wouldn’t be married until after he left. You changed his perception completely, taught him how to live again and not merely exist. Doesn’t he deserve a little self indulgence?

“I cannot return all you’ve given me but I want to ask if you’re willing to give me forever to try.”

Feeling yourself tear up, you blink wildly and sniff, eyes fixed on where his shaking hand leaves his pocket with a small black box between his fingers. Realization dawns and you can no longer stop yourself from crying, joyful tears dripping down your cheeks and onto your chin. Kento lifts your joined hands to your face and uses the back of his to wipe the salty tracks away.

“Will you marry me?”

No words have ever sat on his tongue the way these ones do. Not the first I love you, not the promise to come home safe to you every time he leaves.

Unable to open the box as quickly as you climb into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, you nod wildly and sob against the side of his neck. A serene smile graces his face as he kisses the side of your head and rubs your back.

“So I’ll take that as a yes?”

You laugh, nodding as you pull away from his neck to look into his eyes, the same ones where you’ve found a home. “It’s definitely a yes.”

He laughs, a joyful sound that you want to keep and replay until it wears out, and places his hand between the two of you. The small black box is open and you gasp at the jewelry inside, tears falling again as he kisses them off of the apples of your cheeks.

“None of that, love. We’re celebrating now.”

Shakily you offer your hand to him and he slides the perfectly sized ring onto your finger. Admiring the sight, you press your palm against his chest and take a deep breath. His voice comes from your temple where his lips are once again pressed.

“Merry Christmas.”

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Gabe/Stephen; largesse (pt I)

For the prompt: Gabe and Stephen being sappy at SOME point

Feat. everybody's favourite: Soft Stephen Petersen (but don't you dare call him that to his face)

I'm going ahead and posting this a day before the poll even closes, because it was winning by a landslide and also, well, Passover. This thing decided to grow legs, as so many prompts do. The second half will be posted next week.

Stephen loves holidays.

It takes a long time for Gabe to figure that out — he's talking literal decades — because Stephen’s actually pretty good at hiding it. Or maybe it isn’t that he’s good at hiding it so much as it’s exactly what someone would expect from him. Stephen exudes ‘too cool for holidays’ energy.

But then, to be fair, Stephen exudes a lot of things that aren’t true. Like how he pretends to hate hugs, but that’s only true in limited circumstances: he dislikes hugs from strangers and distant acquaintances, that’s true, but he liked hockey hugs, and hugs from his family, even though he always scoffed before he got them, just so they wouldn’t get the right idea, and a good hug is often enough to get him out of a bad mood. The thing Stephen hates most about hugs is how much he doesn’t hate them.

He’s like that with a few things: he spent years pretending he couldn’t stand math, even as he was getting straight As in it, helping Gabe out with his homework, but never without muttering how pointless math was. He still pretends to hate his sisters, and groans when Dmitry and Oksana come over, even when he explicitly asked Gabe to invite them, and constantly pretends he isn’t absolutely delighted to find a kindred soul in Jared. Gabe can see right through all of that. Always has. But Stephen’s apparent holiday hatred managed to fool even him.

That is, until Stephen accidentally shows his hand when Passover arrives. Stephen’s been doing something or another for it for years, packing Gabe little lunch boxes so he has options on the road, even including uncharacteristically sweet little notes during one playoff run.

Gabe always figured it was because Stephen knew it was hard to be across the country from his family, especially when Passover fell at the same time as their birthdays, or the last stressful days of the season, or the even more stressful start of the postseason — it’s never been great timing. And as much as Stephen would like to deny it, he’s always been thoughtful about those kinds of things. Always been kind.

But this year it's different. Gabe’s Passover planning usually just extends to hitting up the kosher section at the grocery store to stock up on non-leavened alternatives, maybe head to the deli he likes to get some inferior version of something his mom would make if he’s feeling particularly homesick.

Stephen’s putting a little more effort in. For one, he's decided to cook. Relatedly, he's spending half his time on the phone with Gabe’s mom, it feels like — recipes can’t take that long to convey, no matter how chatty Gabe’s mom is — and shooing Gabe out of the kitchen with his traditional Passover lunch box, even though he isn’t on the road this year, and, thank fuck, it’s still the regular season this time. It’s rough, having to abstain from all of his favourite ways to carboload just in time for the postseason.

And then there's Seder. The fact they're having one, but also the fact they've got a guest list: a few of Stephen's university friends, a Jewish colleague of his who also lives across the country from his family, and Jared and Bryce, Dmitry and Oksana.

He spends Gabe doesn’t even know how much time and energy getting it together, brushing off most of Gabe’s offers to help. Gabe’s exhausted just doing his minor part and low-key worrying about Dmitry or Jared saying something to set Stephen off.

Everyone's shockingly well behaved, though, to the point where Gabe wonders what Stephen threatened them with. Something horrible, he’s sure. At the end of the night, everyone parts with leftovers, which Gabe is a little wistful about — he knows they kept a little of everything but it’s his favourite, and Stephen did good job with it, if not a Miriam job — and Gabe starts clearing the table, because Stephen looks like he’s hit his limit.

The kitchen is such a disaster Gabe doesn’t even know where to start — he didn’t think they had this many dishes. He doesn’t even recognise all of them. Gabe has never been more grateful to have a dishwasher. He only wishes they had two. Or three, even. Three would be good.

“I think that went okay,” Stephen says as Gabe starts rinsing the dirtiest of the dishes.

“It went great,” Gabe says. “What’s the occasion, anyway?”

“Passover,” Stephen says.

“Steve,” Gabe says.

“Oh, well,” Stephen says. “It’s important to you.”

But he’s flustered, and not just flustered in the way he gets whenever he has to admit he’s done something nice for someone.

That doesn’t typically apply to Gabe anyway. Stephen claims that it’s inherently selfish to do nice things for Gabe, because they’re a partnership, and helping his partner helps him. Gabe figures whatever helps Stephen sleep at night after doing embarrassing things like offering Gabe the last piece of pizza — obviously not during Passover — or telling him he likes his playoff beard when they both know it’s mid at best.

Though, Stephen actually seemed pretty into it, last year, to the point where Gabe was starting to think he might have a bit of a thing for the beard. So maybe that was selfish after all.

Gabe, equally selfishly, hopes they make it even further this year, just to test that theory.

"Well," Gabe says. "Thank you," and notices Stephen looks relieved that he's letting it go. Even grateful.

So of course that's when Gabe starts paying attention.

[thought--bubble]

The Final Scratch

Epilogue to Kitty-Cat Series

Ettore X (Neuro-Divergent Reader)

Warnings Below

Word Count: 1,707

Kitty-Cat Masterlist

Ettore Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners and Dividers by @arcielee

Warnings::Ettore, birthing, pregnancy, ect ect. No Spoilers

"Will she live?" Ettore growls, neck craned downwards and shoulders perched like a lion on the hunt.

Once again, he started his day by immediately stalking to Dibs' office and demanding assurances. Demanding to know that you would survive the birth.

"I..... I don't know, " Dibs responds, her hands outstretched in front of her as if protecting herself from the expected onslaught.

He stalks closer to her as she backs up towards the wall.

I will rip you limb from limb.

"Did you hear me before?" He snarls. Feeling as if she isn't taking his threats seriously and he is determined to make sure she understands fully what awaits her if she doesn't deliver what he has asked of her.

"I have done all I can, I have tracked her health. I have given her the right supplements and monitored her blood pressure. The rest.... the rest is up to god"

He huffs. God. God has never been there for him, and he doesn't expect him to show up now.

He storms out of Dibs' office and heads back to his room. Where he knows you'll be. Waiting for him. His good girl. His sweet pet.

She's dying

He tries to force the thought from his brain. The helplessness of the situation had started eating away at him lately. As you inch closer and closer to your due date. He hardly sleeps, his eating has all but stopped.

The nights are the worst. Laying beside you, listening intently to your soft, quiet breathing, Boyse's voice bouncing around in his head. "You're gonna kill her!" The words still crisp and clear. It felt like Boyse was haunting him.

She was right

He rounds the corner into his room, and there you are. Laying on your side stroking your cheek. He crawls into the bed pushing your hand away and replacing it with his own.

You purr and nuzzle into his hand like you always do, and he pulls you closer. He leans down, presses his nose to the top of your head, and breathes in your sent. The scent is comforting. Familiar and heartbreaking.

Do I have a heart to break?

The idea of love had been hammering around his head for the last few weeks. Was he in love with you? Did he love you? He was unfamiliar with the feeling, so he couldn't be sure.

What he did know was that he wanted you. He wanted to keep you right here next to him. The thought of being left on this ship without your presence was suffocating.

He rolls you over and spoons you from behind, pushing himself up close.

Mine.

You smile softly and close your eyes. You have gotten so used to this feeling that Ettore pressed up close to you is now a comfort, a need.

He bites gently into your shoulder, eliciting a small squeak from your lips. That's not the sound he's after. Ever since the first time he had you moaning, he chases the sound.

He brings his hands to your hips, sliding your panties down. One thing that had not changed about Ettore was his insatiable appetite for sex.

As always, you were pliant in his hands, a light purr emanating from your throat. He lifts your leg slightly, pulling it towards him, and rests it on his hip before sliding even closer to you.

He owns you. Mind, body, and soul, and he knows it. He grips himself tight rubbing the head of his hardened cock against the curve of your ass. Every stroke of his skin against yours, building up heat in your belly.

He pushes against your entrance gently. Uncharacteristically gentle, and slides into you.

He grips your leg slightly, lifting it as he thrusts his hips, slowly building up speed, his eyes glued to where your bodies connect.

He hears your little pants and mewls and they urge him on.

"Cmon Kitty. Give me what I want. " He croaks from behind you, snaking his hand down your leg and grazing over your pearl.

You whimper and turn your head back to look at him pleading with your eyes and he smirks.

"I know what you need. First, give me what I WANT"

He hastens his movements, the skin of his hips slapping up against your ass, his fingers hovering just above your pearl. Close enough to feel the heat from his fingers.

You pant heavily, mouth hanging open, and eyes rolled back. You arche your back, and that lines him up perfectly to pummel the spongey spot inside you, so you finally give him what he wants.

You start with low moans he can barely hear but once he finally brings his fingers down and caresses your clit you moan out loud, the sound echoing off the walls of room.

Purr my Kitty Purr

"Good, Kitty." He pants heavily behind you, his body now moving at his full pace.

You nearly shriek when your climax overtakes your body a mixture of pleasure and pain as your uterus contracts with your orgasm.

Ettore follows quickly behind with a loud grunt as he finishes inside you.

He rests his forehead against your back, breathing heavily. You can feel the rhythm of his pulse beating behind you, your own pulse relaxing.

Ettore pulls out of you, and it is followed by a gush, and you both freeze.

It's time.

Dibs had told him to expect this. This would be a sign, but he didn't want it. Wanted to stop it somehow.

You groan out in pain.

"Ok, cmon Kitty." Ettore rolls you onto your back and then shimmys you toward the edge of the bed, helping you onto your feet.

As he is walking you toward Dibs' office, Monty is standing against the wall watching the two of you.

You feel heat flush your cheeks due to the bareness of your bottom half. The embarrassment is quickly forgotten as you are hit with another contraction, your legs nearly buckling beneath you.

Ettore grips your arm tightly, nearly dragging you, his eyes locked on the door to Dibs' office.

Almost there, almost there

When you reach the office, dibs and Ettore quickly get you onto the examination chair, and from there, everything moves really fast.

Ettore watches on in horror. Your face contorted in pain, still you hardly screamed just some pained gasps and groans.

Please don't die. Please don't die

Dibs delivers a seemingly healthy baby girl as Ettore speechlessly watches on, she washes the baby and does all the necessary after birth checks.

"Check her " Ettore motions toward you as you still sit in the chair, face pale and slow moving.

Dibs hands the baby to Ettore and runs off to check you over.

He looks down at the baby in his hands and feels confused. The little thing. He made this thing. He is supposed to love and care for this thing. Two feelings he wasn't sure that he was capable of.

He looks back over toward you and sees that Dibs is done with her checks. He quickly hands the baby to you not wanting to hold her anymore.

She's still alive. She's ok

Ettore looks to Dibs for confirmation and she shrugs.

"Sometimes they survive a day or two, she seems healthy, but only time will tell, if she goes to sleep and wakes back up. Well. Thats a good sign."

The feeling of nausea swirls around his stomach again and he returns to your side. Pacing by your bed and occasionally looking down at you. The little girl in your arms making him uneasy.

You reach out your hand to him weakly, ushering him to come to you, and after a few minutes of pretending he doesn't see your hand, he finally acquiesces to your request.

You take his hand and place it gently on your daughters head. The little baby skull is so soft and gentle beneath his fingers, and he squirms a bit.

He is not made for this. Not built for this.

You start to nod off, and he shakes you by the shoulder.

"Hey, hey Kitty? Stay awake for a while longer, yeah?" The desperation in his voice rattles you slightly. You knew this would most likely kill you and you had felt at peace with that, but the pained expression on his face and the little girl in your arms had you wishing for a different outcome.

As your head lulls back again, Ettore reaches out again and tightly squeezes your arm.

Please don't sleep. Please don't sleep

You take his hand and place it on the baby again and your eyes meet his.

"So Beautiful"

Ettore's entire body goes rigid as he hears your voice for the first time. The sound weak but so sweet, so soft.

"Yeah....." He looks at you with reverance. Is this love? He can't be sure. What he does know is that you have changed him. Not entirely, but you have affected him in a way he didn't expect and isn't sure he likes. He is experiencing an entire host of new feelings. Fear, shame, pain, sorrow.

You lean your head back and close your eyes. Slowly being pulled down into the darkness of unconsciousness.

Ettore takes your hand. He's saying something, no doubt, trying to raise you from your sleep, but it's no use. You sink faster and faster into that darkness, the beautiful calm settling over your body.

Nothing hurts. All you feel is a comfortable hum that lightly vibrates through you. It feels good. It feels safe.

You reach your hand out and touch his face. There is a little stubble, you enjoy the feeling under your fingers, it's calming, familiar.

As your eyelids grow too heavy to keep open, you curl your fingers in bringing your nails to his cheek, grazing the skin.

"Hey, Kitty, stay awake." He near begs.

You bring his hand to your face and nuzzle. As a wave of euphoria passes through you.

You dig your nails into the skin of his hand at the intense sensation until you no longer have the strength and let go.

Leaving the imprint of your nails in his skin. Leaving that one final scratch.

To be added to taglist click HERE

[wordbunch]

a little secret (Bilbo x f!reader)

a/n: my brain wrote this on its own while i re-watched the hobbit trilogy twice within like, a week, so... there is that!! it's been sitting in my drafts for months??? anyway it's just a fluffy little piece cause he is an absolute cinnamon roll (i've been neglecting him too much and i'm gonna fix it) 💖 let me know ur thoughts and opinions, and please be so kind to reblog? 🥺 i'm exciteddd to be back and figuring out new things to post!

Yet another all-day-long march was behind them, and the setting sun signaled that it was time to set up camp for the night, and rest, as much as it was possible by sleeping on the ground and eating tiny portions of anything that was at all edible.

[y/n] let her weighty bag plop down onto the rough forest terrain and she let out a weary sigh, stretching her back and arms as much as it was humanly possible, wishing she could stretch away the negative feelings and thoughts that plagued her mind on that particular day.

As soon as Bilbo neatly stored his belongings near the bark of a tree, which seemed like a moderately comfortable spot to take a break in, his eyes keenly followed the movements and expressions of his beloved, who was uncharacteristically quiet and perhaps even sorrowful during the day. Normally she would put her things next to his and enjoy the few short hours of peace, but this time she just tossed them onto a random patch of grass and turned her back to him and the rest of the company, who were already discussing dinner. Before anyone asked her to weigh in with her opinion, she took the chance to walk away and among the trees, away from the commotion of the dwarves. 

Bilbo's curious eyes followed the shape of her in the shadows as long as they could, but soon enough she was out of sight and, inevitably, he began to worry immediately. As much as he wanted to let her have a few minutes of silence and contemplation, it was too dangerous for any of them to go wandering around alone, especially while exhausted in every way; so his anxiety got the best of him, and even though it was nice to finally sit down for a moment, he had to make sure she was alright.

She was expecting he would follow after her shortly, as she stood among the trees and hugged her own arms for extra warmth; trees were swaying in a chilly breeze as the last rays of sun painted them in saturated hues. The moment she heard some shuffling she turned around cautiously, but sighed in relief at the sight of her favorite (as a matter of fact, the only one she knew) hobbit. A small smile stretched her lips, without quite reaching her eyes, and that’s all it took for Bilbo to all but run to her and pull her close.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” he spoke, albeit a little bit breathlessly, as soon as he reached the taller woman. “All day you have been acting…differently.” He murmured with caution, hoping not to offend her with his probing.

[y/n] released a shaky breath and shook her head slightly, looking down at his hands on her waist. Even though she felt like she would start crying if she spoke up, she didn’t want Bilbo to think she was keeping something from him; she knew him well enough to know he would surely overthink it later in the night, instead of sleeping.

“You know you can tell me anything,” he urged her in a soft voice, reaching up to her cheek and stroking it with the back of his hand. “Even if it’s about something that i’ve done,” he added, half-jokingly.

After a string of rough days packed with danger and uncertainty, she was rather moved by the display of tenderness, and she felt her lower lip quiver. At last her eyes, that were brimming with tears and exhaustion, met his, and he let out a quiet gasp. [y/n] could swear he looked like he could start crying only at seeing her like that.

“i just- I cannot,” she confessed shakily, while he pulled her as close to him as possible, “I cannot really handle all of this right now. I’m so tired, a-and there are so many terrifying things going on all the time, and it seems like this whole undertaking might never end, and I just can’t,” she rambled on, trying her best to fight the tears that wanted to spill. The grip she had on the hobbit’s shoulders was so strong, as if he was going to evaporate if she let him go. It was terrible for him to see her feeling that way, and for a second he felt a stab of guilt - maybe he was failing her - but he had to fix it as soon as he could. Both of his hands found a way to her tear stained face, and he gazed at her with so much love and understanding that she could have melted right in that moment. [y/n] wrapped her fingers around one of his wrists to ground herself in reality.

“My beautiful flower, most beautiful in all the world,” Bilbo began, speaking so lowly that only she could hear him, “do you want to know a little secret?” he raised his eyebrows with a playful glint in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. If he couldn’t make her smile, then what was the point of anything at all? She immediately recognized a small attempt at cheering her up, and her heart fluttered in her chest. she really considered herself lucky amid all the chaos.

“Yes, dearest,” she sniffed, but the beginning of a smile was playing on her lips too.

"I can’t either,” he chuckled airily, with a small shake of his head, “but with you by my side, maybe I can. And all of this has been… well, insane, to say the least, but it won’t last forever. I mean, I really hope so.” [y/n] finally laughed, and a tremendous weight was lifted off of his chest. Bilbo stood a little taller as he looked up at her with more hopeful eyes.

“But sometimes insane things lead to beautiful things, I suppose,” he continued, still cradling her face as if it was made of the finest glass, and his smile was contagious as she let those words sink in. “Trust me, I would love nothing more than to be at home with you right now, holding you close, wrapping you in blankets when you get cold, bringing you breakfast every. single. morning,” he accentuated his words with three taps of his finger to the tip of her nose, and her giggle warmed him up from his curls to his toes. “And look at the stars with you on every clear night, and read by the fire together, and chase away visitors because I want you only to myself…” he trailed off, suddenly very aware that she was looking at him with such open love that he needed to remind himself to breathe before continuing. “And, petal, I promise you, very soon we will be doing exactly that, we just need to finish up this-this little dwarven errand.” 

[y/n] all but threw herself over him in a haphazard hug, drawing out a startled laugh from the hobbit.

“Thank you,” she muttered into his hair. “I cannot wait to do all those things with you.”

“Anything for you, my love,” he replied, “and until then… even if we can’t, we can’t together.”

-

✨

taglist my beloved @starlady66 @queenmeriadoc @entishramblings @thesolarangel @silversword7000 @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @averys-place @valkyriepirate @emmaarenstarr @noldorin-painter @asianbutnotjapanese @adamgetawaydriver @fenharel-enaste @ironmandeficiency @starryeyedrogue @dinofromspac3 @wisheduponastar @lady-of-imladris @frodo-cinnamonroll @unethicallypleistocene @deadlymistletoe @suncran @high-sea-husbands @asianbutnoteastasian @aidansloth @moth-makay

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[zeewritez]

The Sailor and The Samurai - II

Mizu x Femme Shipmate/Pirate Reader

Hello lovelies! I didn't expect so many people to enjoy my last fic, but I have some time between classes to make a little sequel. Hope you enjoy!

Notes: A leanbh (uh lan-uv) means my child :), alcohol consumption, peer pressure (?)

Part I

It had been a week since the Banshee had taken sail and the crew expected to dock in Shanghai the following day. Y/n had woken up uncharacteristically early with an unexplainable feeling of anxiety. She could feel in her bones that something was wrong.

Upon getting dressed, she made he way to the stern. The winds were powerful and packed a mighty chill for the spring. She was glad to be wearing a proper coat. The girl peered out into the vast abyss, looking for potential danger. Yet to no avail, as the sky was still a deep blue and nothing could be seen in the distance except for faint outlines of waves. See and sky blended almost seamlessly.

"Good morning my dear," her father's voice rang behind her along with the sound of his heavy boots. "How come you're up so early?"

"Something's off," she told him, not removing her gaze from the distance. "I can tell."

The captain placed a firm hand on the shoulder, squeezing gently. "I feel it too, a leanbh," he said, reaching for his rosary absentmindedly. As he walked away his daughter did the same, unintentionally mirroring him and running her fingers over each blood-red bead. She repeated her silent prayers several times as she roamed the ship. Looking for danger around every corner and from each angle of the vessel.

"y/n," a voice rang out from above. It sounded like an angel but when she looked up it was no other than the latest addition to the ship: Mizu. "What's the matter?"

Y/n couldn't help but smile at him despite the distress in his voice as she climbed to join him on in the crows next. It was odd to her that he was up there, especially so early, but she set that aside once she was greeted by his beautiful blue eyes.

"Something is wrong," she told him as she sat in front of him, her legs tucked neatly to her side. The wind blew with more anger than it had on the deck, causing her hair to dance around her face in pirouettes.

"What's wrong?" the young man asked plainly.

"I don't know," she said. "But I can feel something bad is approaching us. Like there's a danger we can't see yet."

"Is that so?" Mizu asked with a small smile tugging at his lips.

"You don't believe me?" y/n said with a grin, tilting her head.

"I didn't say that," Mizu retorted. y/n rolled her eyes, her smile not faltering, as she rose to her feet. Mizu did the same, not wanting her to leave without him. She had no intentions of this regardless. She gazed upon Mizu's face, so strong yet equally soft. She leaned towards him like the moon to the earth, falling forward endlessly. Yet as the moon never reaches the earth, neither did she reach Mizu. Just behind him, golden rays began to reflect on the water.

Turning around she was greeted with the cause of her worries: a bright red sun began to paint the sky. It was only a few brush strokes, yet she knew it was the beginning of crimson sunrise.

"I need to go," Y/n told Mizu with sudden urgency, her voice serious like Mizu had never heard previously.

Y/n rushed down the crow's nest with speed and purpose. Once on the deck, she rushed to the rear of the ship. She swung open the doors to the captain's cabin with no hesitation.

"What is it, y/n?" her father asked, taken aback.

"Look at the sky," she said. The two walked out onto the deck and sure enough the red had grown larger, taking up more and more of the sky.

"We'll monitor the winds," the captain said. "If they don't settle by early afternoon we'll begin furling the sails and bunker down for the night. I pray we won't be blown off course too badly."

As the day went on the winds refused to calm down, they stirred up the water with anger, tossing the ship ferociously before even a cloud could be seen.

Yet the cloud eventually made an appearance. First, they fell over the sky like a chiffon curtain at noon, then by early evening, they fell over the sky in thick drapes. The sun was nearly blotted out completely.

Captain Cabe called for all hands on deck to secure what cargo was on the deck, furling the sails and anchoring the skip in some attempt to stay on course. Two of the largest men were tasked with escorting Fowler from the cell to a secure storage room on one of the lower decks. Rain began to fall from the heavens as if on queue.

Mizu was pulled aside by the captain with a special task.

"I want you to stay by y/n," he told him, his voice both sounding like a demand and a plea. "You are a trustworthy man, I can tell. The storm will pass, but God forbid Fowler escapes, you keep her safe."

Mizu nodded without a word and went off to look for the woman in question. She was scurrying across the deck in an attempt to void the cold rain that poured from the heavens.

"Y/n," Mizu called out for the second time that day. She saw him and took his hand without a word, pulling him close behind her as she led him to her quarters: a small room next to the captain's cabin.

"Your father has requested I stay with you until the storm is over," Mizu said plainly, though he felt his face heat at the words being said aloud.

"Truly?" y/n asked as she kicked off her boot and threw off her coat which was now soaked. Her blouse and skirt were surprisingly dry, with only some dampness at the hem of her skirt. She sat down on her cot, leaning forward.

"Are you mocking me?" Mizu asked as he sat on the chair by y/n's desk, his eyes trained on the young woman.

Y/n shook her head, telling him "I would've wanted you to stay with me regardless of what my father asked of you."

"Truly?" Mizu asked coyly.

"Why of course, good sir," Y/n said as she laid down and looked at the beams that made up her ceiling. She could feel the boat rocking, yet she knew from experience this was only the beginning. She only prayed the doors to her bookshelf wouldn't swing open like last time. A strong wave hit the vessel, causing Mizu's chair to slide a few inches.

"Is this normal?" Mizu asked, her voice no longer playful.

"Pretty normal," y/n replied nonchalantly. "Judging by the winds it will get worse before it gets better." The boat shook again, this time throwing Mizu off of the chair and y/n off of her cot. Both of them giggled as they came to their feet, only to nearly be thrown back onto the floor. Mizu grabbed y/n gently by the waist, afraid she might fall.

"How do you normally pass the time during storms?" Mizu asked. A sudden glee lit up y/n's face.

"I thought you'd never ask," she said, removing herself from Mizu's grasp to dig through a chest. It was filled mostly with clothing, yet at the bottom a promising clear bottle. "Behold!"

"What's that?"

"Vodka," she explained proudly, taking a seat on the floor. She patted the ground next to her, beckoning Mizu to join her. "It's like sake, but ... different."

Y/n popped the cap and took a long swig from the bottle, then offered it to her companion. He eyed it suspiciously, before taking an equally long sip. She raised her eyebrow in anticipation of his response. At first, it tasted of nothing, then a sudden burn scalded the back of his throat.

"You drink this?" he asked. "For fun?"

"A few more sips and I promise it'll be fun." The sailor took the bottle from his hand and threw back another gulp. Then two more. A trail of the clear liquid ran down her chin, which she wiped away. She handed the bottle back to the samurai. No words needed to be exchanged to signal that this was now a matter of pride. Mizu took the bottle, taking just as man sip as she had, but with a pause between each as though he was questioning everything. y/n giggled at his expressions.

"It's not that bad," she said, taking the bottle back and corking it again. With great effort, the bottle was returned to the chest. She nearly stumbled as she attempted to sit once again. It was impossible to tell whether it was the alcohol or the state of the rocking ship that caused this. Regardless, Mizu gently held onto her waist as she sat down once again, this time much closer to each other. Y/n looked over at her new friend's face, her lids heavy as the alcohol took its course.

"You're so beautiful Mizu, did you know that?" The man didn't know whether to laugh or be flattered by her drunken affection.

"Nowhere as beautiful as you, y/n," he retorted. He just then noticed that his hands were still around her. Y/n raised her hand to gently cupped his face, gently stroking his cheek with her thumb. She was fully aware that her sober self would never do such a thing, but she couldn't stop herself. There it was again, that force that brought her to Mizu, drawing her in. Then, a sudden realization hit her like an earthquake. She was astonished she hadn't noticed it sooner. 

"You're far too beautiful to be a man," she said. "Too kind, too gentle, as well. No man would be satisfied with simply holding me in his arms. He would try to claw at me and undress me."

Mizu's eyes grew wide. She'd never been outed so quickly, so unprompted. She thought she had mastered the appearance of a man, yet hadn't mastered their cruelty. Mizu, dumbfounded by y/n's observation, opened her mouth to speak yet no words could exit her lips. Y/n gently placed a finger across the blue-eyed woman's lips.

"You need not speak," the sailor spoke, her voice more sincere than Mizu had heard before. Y/n reached behind the woman's head, untying her hair, which fell down her shoulders like black silk. With her hair untied, it was now plain as day: the samurai she had grown to admire so this past week was indeed a woman. Y/n repeated her question: "You're beautiful, Mizu, did you know that?"

A wide smile fell upon Mizu's face. She now cupped y/n face, peering into her eyes. There was a safety in them that she hadn't seen in a long time. Without uttering another word, the two women finally gave in to their gravitational pull. Their lips met in a powerful collision of passion, their bodies melding into one. They became a supernova of desire. 

[actual-changeling]

ellie learns how to draw, and, if she might say so herself, gets pretty damn good at it, especially faces. it helps her ground herself to see happy memories physically stare back at her from her sketch book, her walls, the fridge, and wherever else joel puts up her drawings. he loves all of them, even the very first ones that aren't much more than vaguely human scribbles.

the first year in jackson is a pain, and she spends most of it holed up in their house, drawing, painting (she has no idea where joel gets all the paint from and he refuses to tell her), and once they make it through their first winter together, she feels comfortable enough to show them to other people, too. mostly tommy and maria, and in a weak moment she even gifts them a drawing she made of them and their baby.

she's over at their house a lot, it's a lot more lived in and settled than theirs but they're working on it, and notices some actual pictures, the kind you take with a camera, decorating the living room. it's obvious that they're prized possessions, framed and front and center on the walls. a handful of them show maria and what must have been her family before the outbreak, others are newer. jackson does have some cameras saved for special events, and there are two pictures of them on their wedding day, and even one from a few days after the baby was born.

she doesn't think much of it until their second summer in jackson when she notices the way joel stares at the baby pictures and realizes that all he has to remember sarah by is the broken watch on his wrist. the only tangible memory and it's one of pain and death.

ellie mulls over it a lot, it keeps her up at night and while joel picks up on it, he doesn't press the issue when she refuses to talk about it, though she assures him she's fine.

it takes her another two weeks after her realization to catch tommy alone one afternoon with joel safely away on patrol, oddly nervous and unsure how to phrase what she wants to ask. eventually she manages to explain her idea and the positively soft, distantly heartbroken look he gives her makes her breath catch in her throat.

do you think he would be okay with it?

i think he would love it, sweetheart.

they sit together for hours in his kitchen, ellie is determined to make it look exactly right and urges tommy to not hold back his criticism if something isn't accurate, and by the end, they have missed dinner and her wrist hurts like hell, fingers stained with pencil lead and color, but her chest is brimming with a warm sense of accomplishment.

tommy gives her a frame and she wraps it as well as she knows how to. he insists that she gives it to him alone, but ellie draws him into an uncharacteristically tight hug before she leaves and hides her smile in his chest when he presses a hesitant kiss to her hair. family, she realizes, is pretty damn great.

the waiting is the hardest part. she puts her gift on the coffee table and paces the living room for at least half an hour while she waits for joel to return from his patrol, switching between chewing her lips and biting her nails. by the time he finally walks through the door, she has almost convinced herself to abandon the whole thing and just pretend it never happened, but then joel's there, gaze immediately softening when he sees her, and suddenly she can't wait to give it to him. it's a pretty big frame and the best paper she owns, rivaling some of her larger paintings on actual canvas, and joel has to sit down to open it without running the risk of accidentally dropping it.

i hope you like it.

the quiet tremor in her voice makes him stop halfway through unwrapping it, but she just gestures for him to continue, rocking on her feet.

tommy helped.

when the last of the paper falls away and joel sees her work for the very first time, they both hold their breath at once, even the summer breeze stilling, air brimming with something neither of them have the words for.

joel is looking at a vibrant water color painting of sarah, face at a soft angle as she wonders at a small purple butterfly resting on her finger, hand raised in front of her, eyes and smile shining brighter than the sun, hair a shimmering cloud of brown and gold. a frozen moment in time, sarah forever fourteen, capturing the love ellie feels pouring out of joel whenever he talks about her, a wave of affection and distilled joy that makes her miss a person she has never known.

i thought you might want a happy memory of her to look at, too.

ellie points at his watch, broken glass fracturing the light falling in, hand shaking.

i hope it's okay that i- if you don't want it-

joel's arms are around her before she can finish, cutting off her stuttered attempts, frame safe on the table as he hugs her so tightly her feet lift off the floor and she clings to his neck, relief bringing air back to her lungs. he holds her with his face buried in her hair, and ellie only notices he is crying when she can feel a few stray tears run down her neck. when he sets her down again, eyes glassy even after he dries his cheeks, her knees buckle under his gaze. they're both bad with feelings, bad with words, love shown through touch and gestures, through don't forget to eat, i'll stay with you until you fall asleep, fresh cups of coffee left on his nightstand before she leaves for school, hands searching for each other in the crowd again and again and again, never letting go.

love brought to life by a painting of the daughter that taught him how to be a father, made by the one that helped him find his way back to the light.

thank you, ellie.

they both know it means i love you, too, sarah immortalized on their living room wall where the morning sun illuminates her face with every sunrise.

more rambles in the tags

[intern-seraph]

i will wait (and hope)

book 7 spoilers! malleus/gn!reader

also on ao3

Malleus is afraid of the Prefect’s dream. Or, well, he’s afraid of what it could be. After all, there’s a chance that he’s not a part of it. He’s visited several dreams since he cast his blessing upon Sage Island, and many hadn’t included him. Understandable, he’s not close to many of his peers. But if his newest and dearest friend, the very human sleeping peacefully in his lap at the moment, doesn’t see him as essential to their perfect world..? He’s not sure what he’ll do. Still, the urge to satisfy his curiosity urges him to take a peek. Just a little one! So, with uncharacteristic hesitation, he throws himself into their dream.

When he opens his eyes, Malleus finds himself standing in an unfamiliar bedroom. The walls are built of immaculate stone brick that reminds him both of his dorm and his home. It’s the same size of his dorm room, or just about, and decorated in much the same Gothic style: black and green dominate the color scheme, but there are splashes of other colors that catch his eye. A pink heart-shaped pillow on the luxuriant onyx bedsheets, a few posters for things he doesn’t recognize on the walls, foreign tech in stark white and electric blue. The most conspicuous item hangs proudly above the bed’s headboard: a lavishly-decorated certificate framed in silver. He takes a few steps towards it, intent on reading what it says, but a sudden, powerful sense of magic draws his attention towards the floor-length mirror next to the wardrobe. He turns, eyes wide, as the mirror’s surface warps. Two hands emerge from the swirling glass, bracing against the frame, followed by one foot, then a second. Finally, a familiar face bursts from the mirror. Malleus is struck silent as his Prefect stands before him. Older, perhaps, but still his Prefect in all their loveliness.

They sigh and dust off their trousers. Mid-patdown, they finally meet his eyes. A brilliant smile blossoms on their face, and they rush to embrace him. He whispers their name, and they laugh. “Hey, honey. I know I was supposed to be home at the end of the week, but I wanted to surprise you.”

“Honey.” “Home.” Malleus feels dizzy when he hears those words. Before his stunned silence drags on for too long and makes them suspicious, he says, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, but I know my Hornton is strong enough to last for a month while I’m away.” They pull back, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips before they walk over to the wardrobe. He watches them change into a more comfortable set of loungewear — looking down at himself, he finally notes that he’s wearing a soft black robe that matches one hanging in the wardrobe — and tries desperately not to ogle their bare body as parts of it are exposed. As they dress, they continue to speak: “My family’s asking about you, you know. They want to have you over again sometime soon, maybe for our holidays? It’s not for another month and a half, so there’s plenty of time to coordinate with your advisors and maybe even convince Lilia, Silver, Sebek, and possibly Grandma Maleficia to come with us.” They pause and look back at him, eyes twinkling with warmth that turns his insides soft and gooey. “No pressure, of course. They just want to get to know you, is all. After the honeymoon, there’s been so little time between your duties and my work to really bond more as a family.”

“I shall see what I can do. I, too, want to get to know everyone better. After all, they are my family now as much as they are yours.”

The Prefect, done changing, takes his hand and walks him over to the bed. He follows dutifully, sitting beside them and letting them rest their head on his shoulder. “I’m so happy that everyone’s getting along so well. I was worried, y’know, when we got the gate to work. Like, what if everything had changed since I arrived in Twisted Wonderland, what if everyone forgot about me, what if they didn’t want me back, all of that. But it’s been wonderful. I’m so happy I can share this with you.” They wrap their arms around his waist, and he feels his heart seize in his chest. “I love you, Malleus.”

Throat tight, he replies, “I love you, too.”

[fiction-box]

Blood From A Stone

Blue Lions Boys X Fem!Reader

Hello, my lovelies! I wrote this in an attempt to psyche myself up for these next few days as I will be traveling for a job interview. I hope you all have been staying warm these past few weeks (the temperature has been consistently negative where I am now). I will attempt to start working on my inbox once I return. This work was not originally going to go this far in-depth, but this is where the story wanted to go. Nonetheless, please enjoy!

Requests are open. The story will continue under the cut.

After what might have been a ten minute walk, Professor Byleth halted her Blue Lions in the middle of the woods surrounding the monastery. You felt the warmth of the late spring sun shining through the trees; an experience made more pleasant by the soft breeze rifling through your hair.

You and Ingrid had been speculating what exercise you might be coming outside to do, taking an opportunity to make conversation during the walk. Each Friday, the professor enforced some group activity - shopping relays in town, competitive hunting, blindfolded sparring matches - to let everyone better learn the strengths of their classmates.

Sure enough, you watched the former mercenary pull the infamous blindfolds out of the satchel sitting on her waist. A hefty exhale resounded next to you.

“Aw, come on! Not this again…” Annette whined.

No one could blame her; Dedue had hit her uncharacteristically hard in the confusion of his blindness during their match. She might even still be sore from last weekend.

“Now, now - repeating the same exercise two weeks in a row wouldn’t be much help to us. This is meant to build our sense of camaraderie, not our dread for the end of the week,” Byleth corrected. “Line up, please.”

You did so, shuffling into a spot between Annette and Ingrid as your teacher scrutinized the class.

Dimitri caught a green bandana in the same second Dedue was handed a brown one. Green for Ashe and Mercedes, brown for you and Annette.

“Teams,” Dedue noted.

“Please tie them around your foreheads. I’ll explain in a moment.”

A brown scrap of fabric landed in Felix’s palm, the bluenette bringing it to his forehead before Ingrid and Sylvain received their green cloths. Silently cheering, you watched Professor Byleth fix the final brown textile to her own head.

“Today’s activity focuses on both stealth and strategy. Everyone received a color responding to their team. Your objective is to steal all of your opponents’ headbands - the first team to lose all of which will lose.”

Immediately, Sylvain reached over Ashe’s head to pull Felix’s bandana off his head, dangling it in the air.

“One down, everyone!”

“You know damn well we haven’t started yet!” the swordsman snapped.

Dimitri grinned, “I must say Felix, I never saw you as someone to be so easily caught off your guard.”

Ingrid hardly held back a snicker, Ashe’s body practically trembling with a similar sentiment as he reflexively moved out of the way of the two nobles.

Felix clenched his hands into fists, “I’ll tear that cloth into tatters while it’s still wrapped around your insolent-”

“That’s quite enough.”

Professor Byleth eyed Sylvain, prompting him to quickly return Felix’s band. Not without receiving a moderate punch to the arm in retaliation, of course.

“The forest will be split down the middle in regards to starting positions. Those with green bands will begin on the east while brown will start on the west. Each team will be given one minute to conceal themselves, come up with a plan, and do anything else they see fit before I sound the whistle.”

“Your opponents’ accessories can be taken by any means necessary. While use of stealth is encouraged, feel free to use weapons and other advantages as you see fit. The goal is to win, first and foremost. Once you are eliminated, you are to return here until we finish.”

“Prepare to sit on your ass for fifteen minutes, boar.”

You couldn’t help the sound that came out of you at that. Dimitri’s eyes flashed over to discern your reaction before his face promptly flushed a light hue of pink.

“Wh- Sylvain took your headband, not me!”

The redhead frowned, lightly ghosting his hand over his new injury, “Throwing me to the wolves so quickly, your Highness? Maybe-”

“Oh, enough already,” Byleth huffed. “Off to the woods with you all. Right now. Sixty seconds!”

Newly motivated by the time constraint, everyone shifted to group up before rushing to their respective sides.

You weaved between the trees, Professor Byleth following close behind as you trailed Dedue and Annette. Not long after you reached a central-western location, Felix instantly pulled the two in front of you aside.

“...-ce at the northern end of the forest where the dirt is…”

A bit confused, you shifted your eyes to meet those of your professor. Apparently, neither of you were invited to this strategy meeting.

That meant you weren’t needed then, right?

It was all the same to you. Better than the same, actually; an archer flying solo on a stealth mission in the woods didn’t sound like a terrible assignment in the least.

To top it all off, Professor Byleth on her own elsewhere in the forest at the same time? The anticipation would surely kill you. Maybe you would even see her skills more personally than you had on the few traditional battlefields your class fought on so far.

You were brought back to the present as your professor turned to you in real life, nodding at you before slipping into the shadow of a thick tree.

Sticking around just a little longer, you gathered enough snippets of Felix’s conversation to understand his plan. He wanted to make a hole in the ground on the northern side large enough to hold as many members of the opposing side as possible. It sounded a bit ambitious, but you supposed that was nothing new concerning the second son.

In any case, your team seemed to masquerade as the better part of a mess. You wondered how things were with Ingrid…

…45, 46, 47…

After a moment, you strengthened your resolve. The best way to see what the other team was up to would be to go see for yourself, right?

Swiftly working your way counterclockwise around the forest, you snuck over to the eastern side, crossing over only upon hearing a shrill note knocking against the trees. It was now imperative to stay hidden in whatever darkness would conceal you. Having a bow certainly made this easier in terms of mobility since you could just sling it across your body.

Even the animals seemed quiet. Accordingly, you were on high alert. Your movements became more careful, more deliberate as your heart began to race in anticipation. No stepping on branches or leaves; just grass and dirt. No bumping against the trees or sudden movements; just liquid flow and shady cover. Soft, swift, and silent.

Once you believed yourself to have rounded the terrain far enough, you stopped, climbing the tree with the best vantage point in the area and scanning the shady path where your opponents must have started. That is, if the ruined leaves on the ground served as any clue. Prepared for action, you took your bow off your back and pulled an arrow out of the slim training quiver you had been given. Patience was a game you were sure to win, especially in such a good position.

Nothing happened, though. You detected no movement, no flash of colors, and you eventually concluded that the other group must have had a similar idea. After all, most people are right handed, so they might have felt more comfortable countering on the northern side than from the south.

You were somewhat discouraged at your failure to help, but it was no big deal. Especially not when you heard the sound of branches snapping back the way you came. Felix’s strategy must have worked - there was nothing else you could imagine that might make that kind of sound. It must have been effective, too; you recalled an offhanded comment he made about Leonie teaching him something about traps.

Resigning yourself to picking off any stragglers that might have strayed from the group near Felix, you lowered yourself from your tree. Perhaps enough time remained for you to return to your side and assess the damages to see who was left.

Progressing back the way you came would be simple enough. Although you were intent on remaining undetected, you heard several branches snapping and some shouting up ahead.

Felix must have really gotten to them.

You grew close enough to the commotion to recognize Dimitri and Ashe’s voices as the ones yelling, but it made no sense. You had hardly moved a few paces past the tree you were in, and you were still circling the southern side of the forest.

Why were they being so loud? Did they lose, or did they forget this was meant to be a stealth exercise?

But that didn’t make sense, either. They were the best listeners in Professor Byleth’s class, barring Annette; there’s no way they would slack off now of all times.

Silently, you crept toward their shouts until you were brought to a wall of greenery. If you went through…

You didn’t have enough time to hide before they came barreling through the bush.

“Woah!” an ambush? And you fell for it, no less?

Ashe’s eyes widened, his natural agility allowing him to dodge you just in time. Dimitri, with no such skill, slammed into you. The two of you crashed into the ground, the prince scrambling to the weapon you knocked out of his hands as Ashe pulled you onto your feet.

“Come on, get up!” the archer begged you.

 Dimitri frantically shot off the dirt while Ashe started to guide you in the direction they were running. You didn’t have a moment to collect your thoughts or ask questions.

The crown prince’s longer legs carried him past you before he grabbed your left arm with his free hand. Your right hand still connected to Ashe, the three of you formed a chain for a moment as Dimitri lent you his momentum.

A terrible roar emanated from the bush where the boys appeared, prompting you all to detach and pick up the pace. The sounds of three sets of feet slamming against the dirt bounced off the trees in the forest. 

Two crest beasts barrelled through the shrubs, snapping branches in their pursuit of you and your friends.

“How?” you pleaded, your legs moving impossibly faster with the new adrenaline rush.

“No clue,” Dimitri weaved between the trees, his breath heavy, “where they came from.”

A wave of terror pulsed through you. All you felt were eyes on your back, on your friends, and there was nothing you could do about it. They approached, so much larger and covering so much more ground.

Naturally, your smaller size and unfamiliarity with the area caught up with your group. The demons pursuing you could simply demolish the forest in their path, but Dimitri could only get so far before his height forced him to fumble through a group of low-hanging branches.

Unable to slow down, you crashed into him, sprawling to the forest floor. Ashe had once again been attentive and agile enough to change course, but you and the prince lied prone on the ground.

A sound of anticipation came in the form of an unearthly squeal from one of the monsters trailing seconds behind you. If you did nothing here, you would surely die. 

Upon noticing Dimitri had again dropped his lance in his fall, you snatched it and flipped over to face one of the beasts, contesting a well-timed snap of its jaw by holding the weapon up and angling it to act as a pike. It worked just well enough to force the creature’s mouth open…

…until the beast’s maw clamped down on the training weapon, struggling over it with you before it splintered and snapped.

Knocked backwards, your shoulders never got the chance to hit the ground. Dimitri had been given enough time to stand, placing his hands under your arms and dragging you back while Ashe shouted from another direction.

The archer’s cries were enough to split the horrific hunting party, though the only thing you and Dimitri did was continue running.

This is hopeless. All our weapons are meant for training, Ashe is on his own, there are no other fighters with us…

“We can’t keep running,”  you breathed, looping around a tree to throw the monster off your trail, “something has to change.”

…Felix…

You curved around the forest, switching to head back to your group, “Follow me.”

The two of you determined that zig-zagging was the best way to outrun the monster, though if you slowed down, you would no doubt be back on the ground again.

Intuitively, you followed the path you were fairly certain Dimitri’s teammates must have taken to get to the western part of the forest. All the while, you silently prayed that your legs would continue to carry you at a pace fast enough that the beast wouldn’t gain too much ground.

Not that it could be helped; you took two strides for every one of the beast’s.

“Felix! Felix, where are you?”

“Felix!” Dimitri followed your lead.

A figure appeared in the distance, his fair skin and blue hair giving him away, “Why the hell are you two-?”

The shriek from the beast trailing you and the prince drowned out the rest of his sentence.

“Felix, where’s the trap?!”

“Shit,” he cursed, though you couldn’t hear. “This way!”

Pushing yourself just a bit further, you forced your mind to ignore the screams of protest from your body. Felix sprinted just ahead of you, his lack of fatigue allowing him to match pace with your adrenaline spike before he rounded a bush.

“Get the professor!” your teammate ordered someone you couldn’t see.

Dimitri rushed past you to follow the bluenette. Upon leaving the beast’s line of sight, however, he was yanked into the large shrub. You recognized Felix’s hand wrapping around your arm before you stumbled into him, entering the branches as well.

“Thank you, Dedue,” you heard Dimitri’s voice next to you, the phrase uttered out between gasps for air.

It was in the split second before the beast rounded the shrub that you turned your head and recognized the trick. The covering on the pit was placed in the path next to the bush you four were in. If someone hadn’t known to stop and take a route through the hedge, they would have fallen through the dirt.

And upon seeing Professor Byleth appear at the other end of the pit, creator sword drawn to lure the crest beast toward her, you recognized how smart your teammates really were.

The pit wasn’t big enough to hold a crest beast by any means, but it certainly did the trick to immobilize it as the monster lost its footing. A well placed strike to the crest stone on the back of its neck shattered the source of its power. You could only stare at the crumbling animal, its bony limbs reduced to dust. The only thing lying in the crater at the end was…

“A person?” Dedue balked.

You moved to get a closer look before realizing Felix still had his arm around you.

“Um…”

Absentmindedly, he released you, throwing an apology over his shoulder before going to examine the woman lying dead in what very much could have been her grave.

Unbeknownst to you, your body was beginning to shut down. Running all that way left you exhausted, and having done so at a sprint certainly didn’t make matters any better. Yet the second you sank to the ground to truly catch your breath, you remembered.

Ashe.

“P-Professor,” you coughed, “...Ashe-”

“...What?”

“Damn, we left Ashe in the forest!” Dimitri agonized.

Byleth’s eyes sharpened, “Understood. I’ll go find him.”

“I’m coming, too.”

“What?” Felix questioned. “No, there’s no way - you’re way too tired.”

“Dimitri and I are the only ones who know where he is!”

At this, the prince attempted to rise from his position bracing on his knees “Then I’ll go.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re a worse candidate than I am - you’re still bleeding from the trees!”

“Bleeding? I’m not-”

“Your highness,” Dedue cut him off, “your chest.”

Certainly, his uniform was ripped in places, blood pooling out from the cuts he received when he scraped himself on the branches, earlier.

“You must not have felt it due to the adrenaline. We should get you to Mercedes.”

Sure of yourself, you began to walk backwards in the direction you came from, “Professor, there’s no time! You have your sword, so if push comes to shove, I’ll be fine. Ashe doesn’t have a proper weapon, though, and he must have been running for a long time!”

Professor Byleth wasted no words, “Fine then. Lead the way.”

As the two of you picked up the pace, she turned to call out, “Be sure to clear that girl out of the pit! Get her to Mercedes!”

The dull ache in your legs became impossible to ignore once you ran back into the forest. Still, through a mix of retracing your steps and following the sounds of roaring and trees snapping, you managed to get close to where you and Ashe had parted ways.

Sure enough, several trees had been reduced to splinters and fallen trunks. The damage created a small clearing, through which you could see your friend. He looked really out of it, the forest around him a mess from the beast’s rage. 

“Ashe! Over here!”

The professor hit the creature a few times with her sword, extending its reach to divert its attention to herself. Recognizing her attempts to hurt it, the beast reared its head and focused its efforts on Byleth.

She had provided enough of a distraction that Ashe could make it to you. Allowing himself a moment’s respite, he braced himself on his knees similar to how Dimitri had earlier. Breathless, the two of you watched your mentor’s skills at work.

The creator sword would wrap around the wild creature’s neck; Byleth’s obvious attempt at trying to break the stone. Each time, the tether was countered by a snap of the beast’s teeth, or her attack missed entirely. The angle was impossible from where she was standing.

“Fall back, you two - I’ll be right behind you!”

Ashe began to protest, “But-”

“You’re both tired, you’ll need whatever headstart I can give y-ngh!”

Her opponent had grown impatient, swiping its claws at the chain of her sword before her next attack could connect. The weapon was yanked to the side, knocking the professor off balance for a moment and sending the weapon flying out of her hand.

“Just go! I promise I’ll be right there!”

Willing your legs to move, you grabbed Ashe’s wrist and pulled him up, guiding him the first few steps of the way. Once he managed to find his footing, you took a position to lead him back to the group in the west.

You didn’t think you would be able to do much of anything tomorrow, after this. The taste of blood stained your every breath, your throat felt dry to the point it hurt, and you were surprised you could even lift your legs anymore. The adrenaline had worn off by the time you left Dimitri with Dedue.

The noise increasing behind you cut off your train of thought. The pounding of paws much heavier than your own feet thundered against the forest floor. Leaves crushed so loudly you could have sworn they were snapping logs, and the veil of the safety you thought you still had was quickly torn away.

What about Professor Byleth? She should have been on her feet, should have caught up to you and Ashe by now if-

“Keep moving!”

The voice next to you startled you almost enough to make you lose your footing, but a steady hand at your back and the sight of a flash of green hair at your side kept you upright.

“Over here, Professor! This way!”

Annette waved her arms over her head, signaling a new location nearby. They must have created a separate trap in the time you had been away.

But why…?

A snap at your backs inspired the three of you to round this new shrub at record speed. This time, you were ready when Dedue pulled you into the bushes.

“Woah!”

You supposed you had forgotten to warn Ashe.

Sure enough, everything else was the same story, just with different people. The Professor pivoted out of Sylvain’s hold in time to pull the sword she retrieved from her hip. The beast fell in the trap upon rounding the hedge, giving her a more advantageous angle to properly fracture the stone, reverting the creature to the body of a young man.

“I don’t understand,” Felix’s brow furrowed, Ashe ducking out of his hold and falling to the ground to finally breathe.

You were beginning to feel similarly. Were it not for Dedue, you doubted you would be standing. Your classmate seemed privy to this knowledge, as well.

“I will bring you to Mercedes.”

A nod was all you could muster while Dedue bent to put an arm beneath your legs, lifting you off the ground. The air you were practically drinking filled your lungs with more oxygen than you thought they could hold, and your resulting breaths sounded almost raspy. Respectfully, you ensured that your head was turned away from Dedue (though it was also to ensure you could get as much air as possible).

Even still, you managed to catch the final words of those behind you.

“Why didn’t you just take that girl to Mercedes and reuse the last trap?” Professor Byleth wondered.

“Well…” Sylvain, “there wasn’t really a point...she was already dead.”

“...then…this boy…?”

You tried not to focus on the silence that followed her final question.

A few paces later and Dedue had made it to the outskirts of the woods. It was where you all met at the beginning of the exercise.

Mercedes approached the two of you before you cleared the trees, guiding Dedue to set you down on a patch of soft grass in the shade next to three green scraps of fabric. She must have anticipated your arrival.

“Will she be alright?”

“Oh, yes,” Mercedes assured him, though her light tone didn’t match the furrow of her brows. “She’s mostly dealing with fatigue, but the strain on her lungs should be soothed before she tries to go anywhere.”

A moment of silence.

“Where is his Highness?”

The glow of soft magic hovered over you before you felt inclined to close your eyes. You tried not to focus on the strange feeling coursing through you - you still weren’t used to healing spells, yet.

“He and Ingrid went back to the monastery to consult Lady Rhea about all this.” She sighed, and you felt a pause in the flow of her enchantment, “I don’t really understand everything that happened today. It all feels so wrong.”

“I agree. There should not have been any crest beasts this close to the academy. The knights should have noticed.”

Another pause led to a stronger wave of magic passing through your lungs; it was all you could do to focus on breathing next to this weird feeling, but you opened your eyes just to make sure you were still okay.

 “I will head back to the monastery as well.”

The healer nodded, “I’ll let the professor know.”

“Let me know what?”

It seemed the rest of your class made it out of the forest. Professor Byleth approached at the lead, followed close behind by Annette, and finally by Felix and Sylvain supporting a pale and winded Ashe.

As Dedue filled your teacher in on everything, Mercedes abandoned you to go help Ashe. Annette replaced her, kneeling where her friend sat just a moment ago to continue her work. Fortunately, you didn’t feel like there was much left to do.

“Right. You can head back. Take some of the training weapons with you, please - I have a feeling everyone else will have their hands full by the time we head back.”

Dedue removed the brown band wrapped around his forehead, adding it to the pile lying about a meter away from your feet. Picking up the discarded wooden lance, bow, and sword lying in a pile closer to the woods, he turned and wordlessly took the path leading back to Garreg Mach.

“My bow…” you remembered, testing out your voice from your position on the ground, “I think…I dropped it somewhere in the forest?”

Felix scoffed, “With the amount of trees those beasts managed to fell, I don’t think a bit more wood lying around would hurt anyone. The Church can just buy a new one. They replace training weapons all the time.”

“Take it from Felix, they’re used to broken weapons,” Sylvain grinned. “Repairing a broken bow can’t be much different than replacing a missing one.”

A small huff of air came from the swordsman’s nose at his classmate’s remark. Rather than respond, however, he just turned back to you.

“How the hell are you still awake after all that? I expected you to have passed out by now.”

“Me? Shouldn’t you be more worried about Ashe? Whatever running I did, he ran and then some.”

“He did pass out.”

Turning your head to where Mercedes knelt, you found your friend sleeping on the grass, uneven breaths heaving from his chest.

After everything he went through by himself, you could only think that he deserved to rest.

“Professor? What is it?”

Annette’s inquisition immediately led your mind to drop the subject, turning instead to see Professor Byleth lost in thought.

“I’m just…trying to understand something. Those people that came from those monsters - did I kill them, or were they already dead? How did this happen so close to the monastery without anyone coming to help us? And…”

No one knew what to say. You hadn’t recognized the people that died, not their clothing or their faces.

“Nevermind. We need to head back in case anything else unexpected is looking to find us.”

“That should be just fine, Professor,” Mercedes agreed. “I’ve made sure these two are stable. The best thing for everyone now would be to rest.”

“Very well,” your teacher began circling around to everyone, collecting their headbands to place in the bag she had left here earlier.

Annette extended her hand out before Professor Byleth made her way over to the two of you. Taking it, you attempted to get up only to be frustrated by the fatigue of your legs. A sharp inhale followed by a hiss of pain accompanied the feeling of Annette lowering you back to the ground.

“Yeah…might not be ready for that yet…” you gritted your teeth.

Byleth walked over, tugging the brown textile off your head in a fluid motion, “Sylvain, please help her get back to the monastery. Felix, you can carry Ashe.”

“What?!”

Sylvain barely contained his laughter, approaching you with easy footsteps and lifting you off the ground bridal-style.

“You’re sure you want Sylvain of all people carrying the woman that can’t walk? Or fend for herself right now, for that matter?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of experience with this sort of thing.”

“...with carrying people?” you raised a brow.

Sylvain winked, “...with carrying women that can’t walk.”

Professor Byleth hit him on the back of the head so hard that Sylvain dropped you on the ground.

You landed, reeling with a small squeak and a light curse. Your breath came labored through your teeth from the incidental blow to your legs. Not that it could have hurt as much as whatever she just did to Sylvain.

“Agh- What the hell, Professor?!”

“You and Felix have done an excellent job of changing my mind. I think we would all feel better if you volunteered to carry Ashe back with us, instead.”

Now it was Felix’s turn to fight a smirk, though he was hardly trying. After making sure you were okay from your slight fall, he picked you up in much the same way Sylvain had mere moments ago.

Meanwhile, Sylvain seemed to be making a point to carry Ashe over his shoulders.

The seven of you headed back to the monastery together, Professor Byleth calling off her lessons for the beginning of next week just to make sure everyone was well rested. Annette tried to reason that taking the weekend off would be plenty of time for most of the Blue Lions. After all, you, Dimitri, and Ashe were the only ones that really suffered any fatigue. Your teacher countered that if she were holding class, you three were the most likely suspects to insist on attending regardless, no matter how badly you were injured.

Perhaps you left too good of an impression on the professor today for her to think such things of you. Regardless, you agreed with her, if only to save Annette from the pointed glares of Felix and Sylvain at the idea of rejecting a day out of class.

[scar-crossedlvrs]

can i request life with carlos and s/o after marriage with kids and stuff. kind of like a continuation from ur last drabble where he said they should get married and start a family? thanks!

Carlos Oliveira - I’ll think about it

okokok I know this took an entire week to get to, but I'm a mess and I had so many random ideas, so please take this collection of random drabbles, snippets into what this could look like. I had so much fun writing this. Anyway, this pretty much picks up after the last drabble.

You thought about it, and he kept asking. 

Once, twice, three times in the span of a month. Always in that same flirty tone that makes you think joking around. “C’mon, quit. Be my pretty little housewife instead.” You refuse to take him very seriously each time. Not because he’s not completely intent on it, being a man that knows exactly what he wants, but because of your own stubborn nature.

If he’s going to ask, it has to be the right way. 

It had seemed the subject had been dropped when that day came, the arguments about your job disappearing like the bruises on your abdomen. Carlos had framed the outing as a celebration of your all clear from the doctor. All of your favorite spots, the excuse of you being cooped up at home for weeks disguising his true intentions. 

You didn’t notice it, the way everything seemed to line up perfectly, the way he had tried to tame his normally unruly hair, or the uncharacteristic twinge of nervousness every time there was a pause in the conversation. It wasn’t until he was in front of you, down on one knee that the pieces fell together. 

“I want an answer this time.” Carlos has a coy smile across his lips, “Marry me.”

------

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, nerves coursing through you as you hovered in front of the mirror. Dressed in white, you had mere minutes before you were expected in the chapel. Everyone else had already left, they all had something or another to prepare for in time for the ceremony.

There’s a soft knock on the door and you turn. “It’s unlocked. Come in.”

“Can’t. You know that’s bad luck.”

You sigh, taking a few steps towards the door, but stop before you could open it. “Carlos?” Just hearing his voice helped calm the nerves. “What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

“Just came to check on you, doll. Making sure you’re not going to run away.”

You stifle a laugh, fingers tracing lines onto the wood of the door frame as you imagine him on the other side.

“I’m not going to run away.”

“Good. I’ll see you downstairs.”

—--

He had insisted on being a father since the day you had gotten married, but sitting here with the test in hand seemed to be too much for him.

“How long do we have to wait?” He’s pacing, unsure of what to do with all of his pent up energy. It wasn’t helping your already on edge mood.

“Just give it another minute, okay?”

You try your best not to snap at him, to tell him to sit down. His heavy footfalls were making you nauseous, or maybe it was the anticipation. Either way, the worry was beginning to set in. Part of you already knew what you were going to see once you flipped over that test and the thought terrified you. There was no way you were ready for this, right? The thoughts flooded your mind.

“Fuck it, I’m looking.” Carlos is reaching across the table now, his impatience getting the better of him.

You can’t even stop him at this point, he’s already got the test in his hands. God how you wanted to scream, tell him every single one of your worries before he could even get his hopes up.

Soft brown hues widen, flickering up to your face and he’s got you wrapped up in his strong arms before you can even protest, feet lifted off of the floor.

And just like that, the worries have melted away.

—--

“Baby I told you we should have paid the extra fifty dollars to have it assembled.”

Your eyes trail down to where he was on the floor, surrounded by a mess of wooden pieces. The instructions splayed out on the floor in front of him as he pushed his messy hair up to get it out of his eyes. The crib was the last thing the nursery needed before it was ready, and for whatever reason he had put this off until it was almost too late.

“Yeah, and where’s the fun in that?”

You roll your eyes, hand resting on your swollen belly. “C’mon let me see what it says.” You reach for the packet of instructions.

“And risk you climbing down here to help?” His eyes meet yours and Carlos shakes his head. “Nuh uh, not a chance. You’re supposed to be resting til that little monster decides to show herself.”

“Fine, take hours to finish it then, see if I care.”

It took him twenty minutes to give in, and another three hours for the both of you to figure out how to put the damn thing together.

—--

A shrill giggle caught your attention from the other room, and you couldn’t help but lean against the doorway to watch the scene unfold.

“No daddy, like this!” The dark haired toddler insisted.

“Right, that’s what I’m doing.”

Carlos was seated on the floor, and from where you could see, tufts of his hair were sticking out in all directions, your daughter to another handful of it with a rubber band in tow.

“Not that one.” her little balled up hand moves to point at a spot just about an inch away, taking his hair with it. “That one.”

You could hear him wince, “Hey hey, easy on the hair little lady. I’m not ready to go bald yet.”

You can’t help but laugh now, and soon there’s two pairs of eyes on you and the padding of small feet in your direction

“Look!” a small hand clamps around your own, pulling you into the room. “I made daddy pretty.”

Your gaze is met by five haphazardly made ponytails and a lopsided grin.

“Your turn.”

[drpeppertummy]

friend & i exchanged tiny little prompt stories last night & i forgor to post mine forgive the lack of ending i was Done With It gjfhdfg

[nonspecific illness/tummyache, brief emeto mention but only in dialogue, nothing really happens]

"Are you sure that's all you want?" Laurie gave Sunny a perplexed look. It wasn't like her hungry little friend to quit so early; Sunny was infamous for his appetite, or at least the appetite he thought he had. He nodded, and his quiet response was the second red flag. If there was one word nobody in the world would use to describe Sunny, it was quiet.

"Alright, what's up with you? Are you sick?"

"No," he lied defensively. Laurie narrowed her eyes skeptically at the uncertain wobble in his voice. Looking at him more closely, he did appear a little under the weather. His big dark eyes looked tired and unfocused, and it wasn't like him to sit so still. They were sitting together on the floor between her couch and coffee table, their lunch spread out before them. Ordinarily, Sunny might have wolfed down half the pizza by now, but he'd spent the past ten minutes picking listlessly at a single slice.

"Yes you are," she said, a little more accusingly than intended. She reached out to feel his forehead and he pulled away. The movement was sluggish and uncomfortable.

"I'm fine," he mumbled.

"Sunny, you are obviously not fine. You look like you're about to fall asleep sitting up. And since when do you give up after one piece of pizza?" He looked glumly up at her. Something in his expression seemed utterly defeated, as though the brief interrogation had beaten him down, and Laurie felt sorry for him. For some reason, Sunny never seemed to want to admit to her when he didn't feel good. He could bitch up a storm to anybody else who would listen, but when it came to Laurie, his pride and stubbornness prevailed. Still, there was a certain pleading look in his eyes, a needy sadness that begged silently for her to care.

"Come on," she said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Laurie was about as gentle as Sunny was quiet, especially when it came to dealing with him in particular. Sometimes, though, when Sunny was quiet, he provoked a certain gentleness in her. He remained tense for a moment, still reluctant to bare his vulnerability to her. Then, without a word, he gave in, laying his head against her shoulder and letting her take him into her arms.

"So what's the matter?" She gave his back a gentle rub. As if on cue, his stomach answered with an upset gurgle.

"Oh, jeez, Sunny, you should've said something! We didn't have to get pizza today! Hey, you're not gonna puke on me, are you?" She took him by the shoulders, tipping her head to look into his eyes, and he shook his head. He didn't look entirely sure, but she supposed it was good enough.

"Hey, wait there." She stood up and headed for the kitchen, hoping she still had a can of ginger ale in the fridge. She'd put a few in a couple weeks ago when she'd been feeling a little queasy herself, but she was sure she'd only drank one. Pushing a few containers of leftovers aside, she was pleased to find that she was right, and returned to the living room with an ice cold can in hand.

Sunny was leaning back against the couch when Laurie entered the room, eyes closed, his head laying awkwardly against the cushion. He'd been hunched over the table before, but his position now showed that his normally flat tummy was slightly puffed out. His eyes fluttered open as she sat down beside him.

"Here," she said, opening the can and passing it to him.

"Thanks," he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. He took a tiny sip, followed by a strained little burp, and Laurie winced at how uncomfortable he sounded. He tried to force up another burp, with little success, and his stomach let out a miserable whine. Carefully, Laurie slipped an arm around his waist and held a hand against his belly. It felt taut and bloated, and she could feel it grumbling away as it worked weakly at the pizza he'd eaten. Not sure what else to do, she rubbed his belly gently, hoping to help soothe the ache, and Sunny laid his head against her once more.