#i want to hold at least ONE of their many hands

[frostbitebakery]

for @ferretrade

.Hashmarks

“I’ve seen a few troopers commemorating their kills with those,” Aayla comments, pointing her stylus at his collarbone where his shirt has slipped down.

It’s absolutely sweltering on this planet whose name Bly is saving in his long term memory just to avoid it in the future. Breathing feels like swallowing water, sitting still has him sweating more profusely than the 16-hour battle sims they endured during training. So of course his temp-regulating undersuit is shot to hell and their quartermaster is a mean bastard trying to teach him a lesson in taking better care of his stuff.

Bly had wanted to cry and beg for mercy.

Instead he had narrowed his eyes, nodded once in menacing silence, and turned back to his duties, hoping to instill at least some fear and regret in Q.

Aayla, his cruel savior, had crinkled her nose at him and offered a very large, very billowy shirt when he had sweat-squelched his way to their command tent. “It’s Quinlan’s, originally,” she had explained at his curious look. “He didn’t want it anymore.”

“Too many sleeves?” Bly had guessed hazardously.

So now he’s sitting in shorts and a billowy shirt at their shared desk, the collar constantly slipping off his shoulder because Vos is huge, and it’s an all-around aggravating situation. Except Aayla who’s lovely and can do no wrong, obviously. But who’s also taking an interest in his tattoos which Bly is not prepared for since his brain is actively melting.

“They’re for my batch mates,” he thus replies to her inquiry.

While the frown is settling into her features, her eyes flick down to count the marks.

Bly kind of wants to cringe. Oops.

“I thought batches were… decanted,” bless her for stumbling over that word, “in fives?”

He leans back, shrugs deliberately which has the added bonus of the shirt hiding the hashmarks again. “Now, yeah.”

“Cody, Wolffe, Fox,” she counts, her eyes boring into him. She’s like a massif with a bone, and there are moments Bly wants to be a chew toy. Sadly, this isn’t one of them. “I’m sorry about Ponds,” she says, means it with all her heart. “And you. I thought that was your batch?”

“Now. Yeah,” he repeats, half-smile lifting one side of his mouth. Does his best to not let the relief be palpable for her senses.

.Lightning

“Does it really have to mean anything when it looks this cool?” He almost cracks his neck trying to look at his back in the mirror. Lightning bolts strike out from his spine, wrapping around his upper arms like electric wings.

So cool.

“Your body, your choice,” Aayla says diplomatically.

Never mind the nay-sayers.

.Tic Tac Toe

“Ow,” Bly groans.

“Fucking tubie,” Squid hisses at him, bloody hands doing stuff way too fast for him to follow, “stop crying, it’s just a flesh wound.”

Holy hell, but the spots in front of his eyes do seem to grow larger. “You’re holding my innards,” he points out just as Squid throws away something bloody. “Don’t I still need that?”

“That was a wound pad, stupid.”

Wow, the black spots are in color now. “Mind the regs, soldier,” he slurs out.

Squid pulls a bandage - when did he do that? He’s incredible. He makes tattoos and medic stuff! - way too tight. “Commander Stupid,” he relents with another harsh pull. Bly pouts at him. “Congrats, you won the game.”

Bly weakly fist bumps the air. “Yay.”

.327

“Well,” he huffs out with a chuckle, leans back against the hull, “they’re my everything. Body, heart, soul. I’m ready to die for them.”

“They’re ready to die for you, too,” Aayla says quietly.

“Yeah.” He watches her roll the mug a trooper, long gone, made for her between her hands. “Wish they’d stop that.”

.Splinters

Squid wipes away the excess ink with ease and practice. “Well, it looks as stupid as you wanted it to. My work here is done.”

“Are you sure you can’t see the tattoo underneath?”

“Of course.” Squid pulls off the stained gloves, throwing him a judging side-eye. “No one will know what exactly you “hearted”, Commander.”

.Text

“Out of my way,” Aayla reads off his hand while he is unfairly under the influence of way too many drugs, “Rippin off my flesh, so you can’t recognize me, anymore.”

“I was an angsty youth,” he explains, maybe still sore about Wash forgetting the g in ripping.

She nods sagely. “That explains your taste in music.”

“I love polka.”

“No, the other one—“ She pats his hand which she’s still holding. His hand is so lucky. “Never mind. When you get out of here I’m introducing you to grunge and taking you flannel-shopping.”

His head is already nodding. His body is awesome at responding. “You’re like my sugar daddy,” he compliments her. Her and her twin. No, that can’t be right. He blinks and there’s only one Aayla again.

She snorts at him. “Showing you the holonet has been a mistake and keeps me up at night.”

.Flowers

“I wanna be a hi—,” Bly hiccups, fumbles with his drink before it goes all over Cody. “Hibi—“

“Hibiscus,” Fox suggests more drily than his drink.

“That one! I wanna be a hibiscus in my next life.” Just chilling in the sun all day, getting watered.

“I wanna be a spexcel sheet,” Cody says to the soaked through napkin which is stuck to his face but also to the table.

“We know,” the rest of them say in unison.

Man, being a hibiscus would be amazing. He will not remember this by morning.

Bly sits up in alarm at that revelation, spills his drink over Cody anyway. “I will not remember wanting to be a hibiscus,” he says, keeps his voice from wobbling by the skin of his teeth.

“You could write it on Cody the spexcel sheet to remember,” Wolffe suggests, pats Cody’s head when vague grunts of agreement sound from the napkin.

“Or,” Fox drawls out with a slow grin.

.

Bly very carefully tugs on the bandage with squinting eyes. The foil and adhesive separating from his skin is loud as fuck but needs must when it comes to facing the fallout of a drunken night. The bandage slowly reveals tender but well-healing skin, gold and a dark brown accentuating his skin.

He stares.

“This is not a hibiscus.”

[joemama-2]

nanami kento has always been a patient man. he’s respectful and doesn’t talk to unless spoken to. he doesn’t like most people, might even hate some. but you’re not the type of person he would exactly hate, unlike a certain someone. he thinks you’re kind, polite, you always bow respectfully to your seniors, you diligently complete every task that’s asked of you. there’s also one more thing about you….he just cant put his finger on it. maybe you’re just tolerable, yeah that’s it.

you’re not a sorcerer, at least not a very good one. it’s why you’ve opted to be an auxiliary manager like ijichi and akari. “as long as i get to help the sorcerers in battle, i’m fine with whatever position i’ve been assigned.” you would say with a big and warm smile, innocently, naively. he thinks you’re too good for such a rotten society, something like that will get people killed. and he doesn’t want you on that list.

when he first met you back in high school, he didn’t think much of you. you weren’t a special grade, you didn’t have any awesome technique, you were just simply there. maybe you have connections, he thought. because there’s no way someone like you was admitted into tokyo jujutsu high. to this day, he doesn’t know how you did it. maybe you have some super cool talent that you didn’t like showing, maybe you just won over everyone’s hearts and they felt pity for you, he’ll never be able to find out. that’s one of his many regrets.

his other regrets are letting himself grow attached for no reason. no matter what, his eyes had a mind of his own, searching and scanning any room or environment for your figure. he chalks it up to protectiveness, you weren’t strong like he was and he didn’t want to see another comrade die. because thats all you were, a comrade. a comrade. a comrade. he chants this mantra into his mind every morning.

nanami didn’t know how it happened, but one thing led to another and he was always alone with you. comfortable silence was what he loved the most. you two could sit together for hours in a flower field you came across one day, just watching the sky and clouds form random shapes. you liked when they made hearts and little animals. although he always argued that they’re just clouds.

but, clouds almost reminded him of you. free, soft, floating around from place to place, and residing high in the sky. because he knew, no matter what, you were one of the few people who would go to heaven in this sick world, sick society. you belonged in heaven, you looked like an angel, acted like a goddess.

“let’s go to malaysia together.” you told him randomly one day, seeing an ad pop up about a beautiful vacation spot. kuantan. he didn’t take you too seriously. malaysia? out of all places? he didn’t see the hype.

all these thoughts flood his brain when he sees your body, looking lifeless and bloody, next to ijichi. you two have huge stab wounds in your mid-section. however, you have a bit more than your co-part, clear signs of your fight. even when you know you don’t have the upper hand, you won’t hesitate to fight back.

it’s hard as he carries you two, having to make sure ijichi doesn’t fall off his back while simultaneously holding you close to his chest. his heart twists and turns, stomach churning the entirety of the slow walk he does to bring you two back to ieiri. his mind is running rampant, constantly looking down at you. you can’t be dead, he thinks. neither of you two are dead, he can’t see more comrades die.

it’s almost weird to him how his throat tightens, tears stinging at his eyes. you don’t move, head lolling to the side as barely a sign of a breath is escaping your lips. your skin is pale and bruising. he hates it, hates how you look, hates how hurt you are, hates how he wasn’t there to stop it and protect you.

he sets you down first once he reaches shoko, handing the passed out ijichi to her. finally, he kneels down, taking in your appearance. nanami rarely gets mad, at least not seriously. but this time, he’s absolutely furious. silently seething as he breathing gets heavy. his fists clench by his side, nails drawing blood into the skin.

he gets up, no being able to stand how you look. but, he forgets you’re a fighter, forgets that no matter what, you look out for the sorcerers. out for him.

“kento….” you straggle out, hand weakly clutching onto his. you can barely keep your eyelids open. you mutter out the next few words. “…man….blonde……ponytail……s-sword….”

ah, he thinks. that’s his target.

he gulps, simply nodding. but your hand stays clutched onto his. using all your strength, you open your eyes wider, and he hates the tears that form in them. “….come back to me please…..”

he feels like crying with you. but he can’t, not now at least. he kneels down again, bringing the back if your hand up to his lips to press feather light kisses to each knuckle. his other hand gently uses his thumb to wipe your tears, treating you with utmost care. “kuantan,” he murmurs. “when this is all over, i’ll take you.”

you weakly chuckle, more tears falling at this point. “..p-promise..?”

he hesitates, but you notice. “promise.“ he says back, leaning down to give your forehead a kiss, sealing the promise. he places your hand back to your stomach before getting up to leave, not before sparing you one last glance.

and as you watch him leave, you don’t even know that it’s the last time you’ll ever see him, last time he’ll ever see you. because you trust his word, trusted that he’d come back to you.

nanami leaves with a heavy heart, staring death in the face and yet all he can think about is you. there’s many regrets he has.

he broke your guys’ promise, he hopes you won’t stay mad at him.

he won’t be able to take you to kuantan.

he won’t be able to see you, hold you, talk to you.

and finally, he wasn’t able to confess that he loved the simplicity. that he loved you.

he’ll see you again, in heaven and in another life. until then, he’ll watch over you. because nanami kento has always been a patient man.

[delirious-donna]

Dangerous Games [Hoshina Soshiro]

an: the Vice-Captain may be your boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean you’re immune to the wicked games he likes to play… now, sit pretty.

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x female reader

warnings: cockwarming, dangerous liaisons, semi-exhibitionism (I guess?), Soshiro is a wicked boy but he adores you truly

Masterlist

If you tried to recall what possessed you to think this was a good idea, you were left with absolutely nothing in mind. It was a dangerous game, one you never thought Soshiro would be up for playing, but here you were, sat on the Vice-Captain’s lap surrounded by comrades and the likes in the communal movie room.

Yes, you were more than one of the operatives charged with ensuring the safety of the division’s officers, far more. You were the girlfriend of Vice Captain Hoshina and whilst it still made you giddy when you thought about it, it was no secret. Soshiro wasn’t the type to be too overly affectionate with others around, but he didn’t shy away from touching you when the opportunity struck. A hand on the small of your back, a lightning-fast kiss pressed to the top of your head, a cheeky grope of your behind when he was certain no one was looking. But this? This was something altogether new…

The room was dark with the only light being emitted from the projector shining a movie onto the wall with vivid colour. It felt hot, of course it did, the sticky feeling of being smothered by too many layers itched down your spine and you wondered if the others felt it too. There were far more faces in here than you had predicted when you first fell into Soshiro’s little game—it felt more like a trap now—and you burned with the knowledge that they could discover the depths of your depravity at any moment.

In sheer desperation to distract your wayward mind and the reactions of your body, you tried to remember the plot of the movie. To at least try and follow along with what was happening but it was impossible when the man beneath you was doing his damnedest to ruin you so completely.

The spread of wet kisses started innocently enough at your cheek. They moved lower to your jaw, long clever fingers angling your head so he could suck little marks at your pulse and the delicate bone at your clavicle. A curtain of silky amethyst hair hid his face from you, obscuring the area of his next attack which he disguised as showering you in affection. You were no fool. You could feel his smile against your clammy skin, and it only worsened the predicament.

You rutted your hips, barely an inch but it was enough for the almost silent groan to echo from the depths of his chest. A strong, capable chest that was pressed flush against your back, a hand at your waist to hold you steady in his lap. Immediately you stilled, breath caught fast in your throat, but it was too late for that.

Soshiro’s teeth latched on your ear, tugging the lobe between those perfectly sharp incisors before a strained and quiet voice flowed inside. Despite the strain, he sounded amused—almost manic.

“That was naughty, little flower. Do you want to get caught?” he asked, and the very idea of one of your friends or colleagues turning their attention to the couch that only you two occupied made your cunt clench.

It was all the answer he needed.

His sharp inhale of breath was more audible this time, and you fought the urge to squirm against the hold that was tightening with every passing second. His arm was like a steel band around your waist, the voice that of a devil that was exhilarated by the circumstances he’d found himself in.

“Oh… it’s like that, is it? If only your colleagues knew how filthy you were being right now. Tsk tsk.” His tongue clicked softly against his teeth, a feigned admonishment that left your head falling back to his shoulder and your face pressed into his neck.

You inhaled the scent of skin, the salt mixed with something light and almost floral from his body wash. The temptation to lick a long strip from below his ear to the swell of his Adam’s apple was interrupted by his cock massaging against your front wall. The engorged tissue of your pleasure spot lit up your veins like fireworks, and only turned up the dial on the neediness pooling both in the pit of your stomach and between your sticky thighs.

He knew exactly how to make you melt, the merest flick of his wrist and the right intonation would see you putty in his hand. It should be annoying to be so easily read, but honestly, you appreciated the efforts he had gone to to learn you so intimately. Soshiro was a dedicated man, to his job and to you, it was heartwarming to feel so cared for, even when you found yourself in promiscuous situations such as these.

You knew that, had you been alone in here, you would be riding him to completion and to hell with the consequences. He knew it too and that only tightened your jaw, your molars grinding together as you tried your very best not to move another inch. The Vice-Captain might not be laughing but one quick peek into his eyes told you that he was barely holding back from doing just that.

Hushed conversation from your friends stole your -attention away from the shining humour in his violet eyes, cheeks burning hot as you glanced around the room but didn’t dare to meet anyone’s eye. The moment passed, action returning to the screen, and you exhaled a long-held sigh of relief.

Instead of smacking his chest like you wanted to do, you worked on steadying your breathing, grateful of the breathing techniques taught by the very organisation you worked for. You tried to ignore how every minuscule movement was ticking you closer to yelling to hell with it and bouncing on his dick until your eyes crossed and the band of tension in your belly snapped. You ignored the wet arousal that drooled from your cunt, clenching around his length behind your modest skirt, and you definitely didn’t think about the stains you were likely leaving on the front of his pants…

His fingers splayed beneath the hem of said skirt, rucking the fabric closer to your knee until his hand could disappear beneath. You grabbed up a cushion and pressed to your lap to hide whatever his intent was whilst your eyes squeezed shut in anticipation. You almost moaned aloud at the grazing touch of his nail against your puffy lips, followed by the circular motion of his fingertips teasing your swollen clit. It was enough to make you bite your lip until the iron tang of blood hit your tongue.

Warm breath fanned your cheek, his lips so close to your ear that the sensation tickled down your spine.

“Make it through the movie, sweet girl. Then I promise I’ll fuck you until you can’t walk straight, okay?”

All you could do was nod. There were no words in your head, and quite frankly, you didn’t trust your voice not to give the game away completely. It was imperative you last, that you make it through this mission and receive your reward.

Soshiro smiled against your pulse, nipping playfully at the wildly erratic rhythm beneath the skin. God, he adored you so much.

“That’s it, sit still for me.”

[thatacotargirl]

Shadows and Surprises (7)

Part 7 of Azriel x Reader fanfic! Sorry for the delay!

Summary: Azriel meets y/n at Rita's and spends a single night of passion with you before heading your separate ways. Only, the Mother had different ideas.

Warnings: none.

Tag list - @nickishadow139 @dee-writes-smut @minnieoo @st4r-girl-official

@courtofjurdan @mirandasidefics @lilah-asteria @nyxbranwenn @impossibelle

@mybestfriendmademe @hauntedstudentobservationus @julesofvolterra @acourtofbatboydreams @rogersbarnesxx

@skylarkalchemist @sidthedollface2 @aehllitas-blog @fullmoon-94 @acourtofbatboydreams

@aehllitas-blog @fullmoon-94 @5onedirection5 @mindofthescattered @rcarbo1

@dumblani

Y/N's POV

"And hook the right arm a little, no, I mean like thi-, no wait that's not, y/n, hold your, yes ok now we're getting somewhere".

Absolutely nothing that Cassian just said to you made sense. But, he said you're getting somewhere, and he's the expert after all.

You throw your arm around in a right hook, attempting to catch Cassian in the jaw, but he blocks you and brings his clenched fist up to your throat. He, naturally, stops short and doesn't actually touch you, only showing you where your weak spots are when you throw the first punch in a fight, but it was enough to feel Azriel's wrath seeping across the training ring.

"That's enough, Cassian", he calls out, standing to approach you both in the centre of the ring.

"What?! I'm fine Az, I'm not even tired" you protest, attempting to throw another hook at Cassian whilst he is distracted, which he again blocks - only without even looking at you. How does he do that?

"Az, brother, you need to relax. If y/n needs to stop, she will tell me - she did the other day and we stopped straight away. I promise", Cassian reassures Azriel, but you see his eyes darken.

"Why did you need to stop the other day? You didn't tell me that? Were you hurt?".

You let out a frustrated gruff and start to walk away towards the stairs that lead back down to the house. You are almost 7 months into your pregnancy now, and Azriel is only getting more protective and overbearing by the day. Just this morning he wouldn't even let you put your own socks on so you didn't bend down and 'squash the baby'. As you descend the stairs, you see a tuft of golden hair fly past and run into a nearby room, slamming a door. Peering in the direction the tuft of hair came from, you see Rhysand staring ahead blankly.

"Should I ask?".

Rhys just shakes his head to you and wanders off in the other direction. Looking at the door that had just slammed, you walk over and knock quietly.

"Fey?", you call out, resting your ear against the door. No answer.

"Feyre?", you try again. No answer.

"I'm coming in, Fey", you say as you push open the door to one of the many spare bedrooms. When you poke your head in, you see Feyre curled in a ball on the bed, sobs racking her body. You walk over and perch on the edge, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"What happened?", you ask quietly, rubbing soothing circles along her shoulder and back. She stayed quiet, sobbing into the pillow, so you stay silent too, keeping up the gentle circles until you feel her body still underneath you. Thinking she's asleep, you go to stand, but you hear a soft sniff and Feyre looks up at you.

"I kissed him".

"Kissed who? Rhys?"

Feyre just nods, hiding her face back in the pillow, but at least this time it isn't accompanied by tears.

"What's the problem with that, Fey?"

"I'm in love with Tamlin!"

Who the fuck is Tamlin?

"He's the High Lord of Spring", Feyre whispers.

Ah shit, I said that out loud.

"Yes, you did".

SHIT. It must be the pregnancy brain.

Silence follows.

Right ok, I didn't say that out loud then.

"No, you didn't".

Cauldron boil me now.

"I am with Tamlin, I am to marry Tamlin, look", Feyre holds up her hand showing a huge emerald rock on her finger. There is no mistaking that she is a soon-to-be bride.

"Was it a mistake?"

"Yes", she says quickly. Then pauses. "Maybe?"

"Maybe?"

"Well I wanted to kiss him in that moment. But maybe it's some kind of survivor's guilt thing, Rhys saved me under the mountain and so I owed him a thank you?"

"Maybe Fey, but you don't need to beat yourself up over it. If it was a mistake, it was a mistake. Rhysand will not hold that against you, he's a good male".

"I know", she whispers. After a short pause, she adds "but if it was a mistake, why do I want to do it again?".

You have no answer, so you simply go back to rubbing her back, hoping it is offering her at least some comfort. Your situation was a difficult one, but at least you and Azriel were on the same page. Although, thinking about that, were you? You hadn't discussed the future nor the circumstances of your relationship. Would Azriel see other people? Would you move out when the baby was born and co-parent? You hadn't admitted your feelings to Azriel, certain that he didn't return them, but you hadn't stopped to think about how difficult it would be to watch him start a life with another female one day. A knot forms in your chest as you realise how uncertain your own circumstances are, and you have absolutely no advice to offer Feyre because, if you did, perhaps you'd take that for your own.

You look down and see that Feyre had, in fact, cried herself to sleep. Standing gentle, making sure not to rock the bed too much, you retreat from the room and pull the door closed, wandering off to the library in search of Azriel.

-

You find the trio in the library, sat spread out across the various sofas and chairs in the room. Cassian gives you a wave, sloshing his glass of whiskey and causing half of it to land on the carpet. Rhys only shakes his head and waves a hand, the mess disappearing instantly. Azriel sits himself up from lounging and pats the space next to him on the sofa, a glass of sparkling water appearing on the small table next to the seat. You smile and join him on the sofa, appreciating the water more than you probably should, but you hadn't had a chance to hydrate after your training session since you had found yourself in Feyre's room. Rhys looked at you, a question in his eyes, but you could only shrug a response. You had no update for him.

"How are you feeling", Azriel asks, sipping on his whiskey.

"I'm ok, starting to get a bit sore and achy now, but nothing I can't manage".

"Should we speak with Madja?", Rhys asks, but you shake your head.

"No need, it's all normal pregnancy stuff, nothing to be concerned about". It didn't make Azriel's face look any less concerned.

"I'll stay in tonight", he says, setting down his glass.

"Tonight?".

"Yeah, I'll stay in". You see Cassian glare at him from across the room and raise your eyebrows in question.

"I only went out of my way and wingmanned him a hot date, and he's going to bail only a few hours before. Way to make me look bad Az", he guilts, pulling a pout. But you stopped listening after you hear 'hot date'. Your ears start ringing and your eyes prick with tears which you quickly blink away. Not quickly enough to avoid Azriel's attention, though.

"Are you ok? Does something hurt?".

"I'm fine", you snap a bit harsher than you meant to. Standing from the sofa, you throw a look his way and add a soft "don't worry". You start to walk away, but he calls you back.

"I'm actually quite tired, Az. I'm going to head to bed and get an early night. Have fun on your date and I'll see you tomorrow, ok?'. You leave the room before giving him a chance to respond.

-

Azriel's POV

"You look great, Az!", Cassian says, straightening my bow tie. He doesn't seem to realise that Azriel will be tearing it off the moment before he takes the sky.

"Yeah, yeah, thanks Cass", he offers, looking at the wall.

"What?! I'd definitely do you", Cassian replies, still fiddling with the bow tie. Azriel only look at him with a glare, to which Cassian chuckles.

"Right, you're all ready, off you go", he says, patting Azriel's shoulder and steering him towards the balcony. "Go get her", he winks, before walking back into the House of Wind.

Azriel sighs, rips off the bow tie, and jumps from the ledge, heading into the centre of Velaris.

-

He arrives at the restaurant and finds his date standing outside waiting, even though Azriel himself is 10 minutes early. She is pretty, there is no denying that, but Azriel can't clear his mind of the beautiful female back at the House currently carrying his child.

"Hi!", his date calls, walking over to him.

"Hi Tori", he smiles, offering her a quick hug. The pair of them walk into the restaurant and are seated at a private table on the roof, as arranged by Cassian and Rhysand. The pair of them seem to think that a date will help Azriel's 'brooding', as they call it. But Azriel's mind is in one place and on one thing, and it isn't the female sat opposite him at this table.

The date is nice. The food is good, the drinks are flowing, and the live entertainment is a dream. But Azriel can't stop thinking about y/n.

"You seem distracted?", Tori asks, slurring her words slightly after they finished their 3rd bottle of wine and gestured the waiter for a 4th.

It's like she opened a floodgate. With the question lingering and the sheer volume of alcohol he had consumed to try and distract himself, Azriel suddenly word vomits everything that is in his brain, telling his date every single detail about you and his unborn child.

"A word of advice, Azriel, if I may?".

He nods.

"You clearly care for this female and your baby more than anything on the planet. So why, on the sun and the moon and the stars and the damned cauldron itself, are you on a date with me instead of telling this female that you very clearly love her?".

He sits in silence, stewing over Tori's words, before it feels like a bucket of cold water has been thrown over his entire body. He does. He loves you. He loves you more than he has loved anything or anyone in this world. And tonight, he let you sit at home, uncomfortable and sore, carrying his child, whilst he went on a date. He had fucked up.

Standing abruptly, Azriel reaches into his wallet and throws a heaping handful of notes on the table, covering the bill and then some.

"I'm so sorry", he says to Tori, who merely shakes her head and smiles.

"Go get your girl, Az".

-

Crash landing on the balcony and stumbling through the House, Azriel finds your door and knocks hard.

"Y/n?", he whisper shouts, knocking again.

You must be asleep. But this can't wait.

Azriel pushes the door open, but your bed is empty. He checks the bathroom. Empty.

Perhaps you had a midnight craving? He stumbles down to the kitchen. Empty.

Confused, disorientated, and slightly nauseous, Azriel makes his way to his own bedroom. He walks in and see a small piece of paper folded on his pillow. His eyes struggle to focus but he manages to successfully unfold the paper, only for his heart to fall to his stomach at its contents.

Azriel,

I am so sorry.

Y/n.

It was too late. You'd gone.

[bullet-prooflove]

For Rip Wheeler

“Oh, if all I got is your hand in my hand Baby, I could die a happy man”

Tagging: @1-fuzzy-squirrels @nerdypinupcrystal @babygirl8900 @domquixotedospobresblog @buckysteveloki-me

Companion piece to Thrill of the Chase (NSFW) - Rip has always loved the thrill of the chase.

Rip doesn’t have a heart, at least that’s what they say about him. They see his hard edges, his gruff exterior, the aura of violence and they think there’s a barbed wire where one should be.

For a while even he thinks it’s true. The world has battered him, bruised him, broken him, he doesn’t have the capacity for softness anymore. He tells you that after you fuck him for the second time.

“Don’t expect anything from me. I don’t have anything to give you.”

His relationships have aways been physical, raw, primal. It’s about stress relief, not connection. He assumes it’s going to be the same with you until it isn’t.

There are so many ways you’re different to the women he’s been with before. There’s a softness in you he doesn’t anticipate. You aren’t rough with him like the others, you’re teasing, gentle. When he’s camping out alone, he thinks about the light caress of your fingertips across the scars that line his left shoulder, the tender brush of your lips as you explore every inch of him.

He might fuck but you, you make love.

He tries to fight the fall, really he does but it’s a constant war deep inside of him. He forces himself to leave your bed when he’s finished with you, he redresses in the dark as you sleep, ignoring the urge to climb back into your sheets, to hold you, to love you.

He’s tired, sore and pissed off when he comes across you in the barn. He’s been pulling up hemlock all day in one of the pastures and you’re finishing a check up on John Dutton’s horse Starbuck. The old girl is getting up there these days, she’s starting to have more health problems. There’s going to come a day soon where you make the recommendation to put her down and the thought of that…

It devastates him because the two of them, they sort of grew up together. She was the first foal he birthed back in the day.

You must see the exhaustion in him, the toll of the day has taken. He thinks that’s why you reach for him, why you catch his hand when he walks by. The gesture surprises him because the women he’s been with, they’ve steered clear of his moods, they didn’t walk head first into them.

“Come home with me tonight.” You say as he turns to face you, and he sees the sincerity in your features as you draw him close. “Let me take look after you a little.”

It’s the first time that anyone has ever offered him that, that they’ve cared enough to consider his wants, his needs. He’s tired of this war he’s been waging with himself, he’s tired of resisting you. All he wants right now is to curl up in bed, with the woman he’s falling in love.

“Alright darlin.” He concedes, his thumb chasing over the blush of your cheek. “If you want me, you can have me.”

Love Rip? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[notnotpluto]

(super long post, super pro-elriel, my awesome thoughts and opinions, kinda petty lol)

okayy so I occasionally go into the elucien/lucien tags to look over their theories, see if any of them hold any weight because tbh I love the visual aesthetic of elucien (something about men with scars just rubs me the right way lmaoo I blame psychological issues but whatever) and I came across this post (talks about how elriels fill in the blanks when it comes to their canon moments)

now, I was gonna ignore it but my morning class got cancelled and I can't help myself so lets dissect it<333

They claim that its the author's job to complete a ship's scenes and that its "disappointing" if readers have to "fill in the blanks" for their romantic scenes. (all indented passages are from the post)

Ex 1: The moment where Elain compliments either Azriel’s siphons or his scars as being beautiful- we dont know which it is so we’re left to guess and go with it.

this is the scene this refers to:

soo... its clear (at least to me and many others) that this scene is laced with romantic coding. He carries her through the threshold of the house, she gazes at him, he offers to show her something that interests her, she does not balk at him or loose her confidence, he offers her his hand even though she's fully capable, she compliments him, he blushes, and they go off into the sunset (or a pleasant midday in the garden lolz)

now, imo the author has given us an entire romantic scene. we got physical contact, we got initiative to make the girl happy, we got flirty compliments, AND boy blushing (he's such a cutie patootie ahhh) personally, I don't feel the need to fill any blank bc this this from Feyre's first person pov and she's not privy to Elain's thoughts. This is a whole scene that I ate up with no further questions

moving on...

Ex 2: Elain and Azriel sitting in the garden until early morning, but readers have no idea what their conversation was about. SJM didn’t even let us see on page how they interact one on one (!!)

Here's the scene. With context, ie the big bold blue text, we see that its Feyre's pov. do we expect her to sit alongside azriel and elain, listening to their conversation like a chaperone? no. but the fact that she observed them is what's important in this scene. she could have said azriel and elain were not in their beds or she didn't know where they were, BUT she is written to specifically observe them sitting and talking together in the wee hours after the outside world was asleep. Why on earth would the author have feyre eavesdrop on them? and we DO know what on earth their conversation was! its right in the text! that I've highlighted so nicely!

next!

Ex: Nesta and Cassian met the same time Elain and Azriel did but SJM couldn’t help but show us Nessian interactions because the pull of Mates is so strong the author physically cannot keep it hidden from readers.

okay their very first meeting is actually one of my faves, cause how are you gonna read about elain being in a cobalt dress, azriel looking at her clutching a fork and being amused and say its not cute huh? HUH???

reassuring elain when she's uncomfortable

elain exchanging conversation with azriel while nesta and Cassian passionately exchange glares and feyre and rhysand try to maintain peace lol

also the fearsome spymaster being self-conscious around this pretty human girl is just ughhhh love me some pathetic scary men<333

Here we obvi see that while Cassian and nesta have their thing going on, the author also places weight on azriel and elain and their quiet glances and conversations (wonder why that is?) and maybe, just maybe, they're not loud and fiery because, gasp they're different kinds of people.

m'kay that's all the texts and receipts for today. have to go do math now eww

final thoughts: scary shadow bat and pretty garden girl want to boink each other on the dl (they told me themselves). until next time, xoxo gossip girl<3

[imagines--galore]

||The Thread of Fate|| Part Twenty-Nine

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen, Part Twenty, Part Twenty-One, Part Twenty-Two, Twenty-Three, Twenty Four, Twenty-Five, Twenty-Six, Twenty-Seven, Twenty-Eight,

A/N: The aftermath of it all.

Sokka and Aang were the ones to help him back to his room. They had to carry him partially, his arms slung over both their shoulders to keep his legs from buckling under him. Yes, Zuko was in pain, but he wasn't about to pass out from it or anything, so best to stay on his feet.

Though he was exponentially glad when he finally sat down on his bed. The ache across his chest had intensified and his back was killing him.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright?" Aang asked, hovering over the Prince who sat on his bed hunched over slightly against the pain. His hair did well to hide his expression, so Zuko simply nodded. "I'm fine. I just need to sleep it off."

The Avatar glanced at Sokka, and the two of them shared a worried look. "Well, if you need anything just tap the floor, Toph will be able to sense it." Aang said, gesturing to the younger girl who stood at the doorway with Katara beside her.

Zuko only nodded.

Though hesitant the two boys walked out, lingering in the doorway for a few seconds. And once they were sure that Zuko wasn't going to fall over, they left.

Sensing they were gone, Zuko let out the groan of pain he had been holding back, his hand reaching to press against the center of his chest where the whip had caught him. Carefully, so as not to aggravate his injuries any further, he removed the two layers he'd been wearing to assess the damage.

He glanced down and winced.

Already the wound was discoloring across the expanse of his chest, running in a horizontal line. The bruise was easily the size of his palm, not to mention the strength and power that had been behind it.

At least he could breath properly, he noted after he had taken a deep breath. That meant no broken ribs. Thank Agni for little miracles. His back though, he couldn't get a look at, so he was left to imagine how many bruises were forming there.

He had also hit the back of his head, judging by the sensitive spot and the lump growing in that particular area. Which meant that he shouldn't sleep for a while.

Though he had told Aang he would sleep it off, it was the furthest thing from his mind.

What occupied his mind was Orora.

And the look of pure horror she had worn before racing out of the fountain hall.

He'd seen her, having tilted his head to the side and catching a glimpse of her through the feet that surrounded him.

Gently resting his head on the wall against which his bed was pushed up, he stared at the ceiling. Knowing Orora, and he knew her rather well, she was probably beating herself up about hurting him.

He wanted to go and find her, to go and tell her that it wasn't her fault. After all, he'd been the one to offer her to let loose all her emotions on him. He just hadn't been fast enough.

Truth be told, he'd forgotten how fierce she could get in battle.

His mind drifted back to their first ever battle, back near that lake when they were still living as refugees. He'd managed to best her because she'd been inexperienced.

But now?

He wandered if she was at Master level yet. Though he hadn't been fighting her himself, Zuko was aware enough to know a strong bender when he ran into one. And Orora had become very strong. His Uncle would be proud to see her progress, the young Prince thought to himself, glancing at the portrait of the man he had set on his bedside.

Zuko missed him. Terribly. And he wished, more then ever, that Iroh was there with him now. With both of them, to help give words of wisdom and try to get past whatever barriers that remained between them. Then again, Uncle would advise them to work it out themselves. Aside from that one time he had set his nephew on that had resulted in him and Orora getting closer, Zuko didn't think his Uncle had ever meddled in either of their proceedings as soulmates.

Agni, he had no idea how long it would take him to win back Orora's trust. He was actually counting on her kind and soft heart to give him some leeway, and yet he knew her to be stubborn enough to not make it easy for him.

He didn't blame her though. Besides, he knew it would take time. It had taken a long time for her to actually start trusting him when they first met.

Slowly, his thoughts began to grow fuzzy, and he drifted in and out of memories. All of which involved his soulmate one way or the other.

Zuko had no idea how long he sat there, lost in his thoughts, his body aching all over.

That is until he felt his finger tug and his relieved golden amber eyes opened to meet a pair of worried and guilt-ridden ice blue eyes.

                                           ————————–

Their little battle had happened earlier in the evening.

And now it was getting late.

Orora had only managed to gather strength once the moon had appeared in the sky and she'd been able to rise to her feet, her legs trembling as she did. Looking around, she found herself to have taken refuge in a rather familiar looking clearing.

One that had been a campsite for her and Zuko when they had first arrived.

The waterbender had stood there, staring up at the moon through the branches and leaves that slightly obscured her vision. The gentle breeze allowed her an undisturbed view every now and then. Normally she would've spoken to the moon, would've revealed all that she was feeling and feel better for it.

But right then she just felt numb and empty.

All that she kept seeing in her mind's eye was her water whip, as it flew through the air, hitting Zuko in the chest and making him fly back and smack against the wall with a sickening thud.

Over and over and over.

She didn't cry though. Maybe she had finally run out of tears?

A headache was beginning to throb just behind her red rimmed eyes, and some of her hair stuck to her wet cheeks. Brushing them back, and wiping at her cheeks, the girl slowly, albeit reluctantly, began to make her way back down to the Temple with timid steps.

Once she'd climbed down the stairs, she retrieved her medicinal bag and water skin from her room. Guilt gnawed away against her very skin, her expression one of apprehensiveness as she made her way to where Zuko's room was.

While one part of her screamed at her to stay away from him, lest she hurt him again, the other part urged her, pushed her, to go see how he was.

To make sure he was alright.

And that was how she found herself standing at Zuko's doorway, her eyes wide as a horrified sound fell from her lips at the sight of his bruised torso.

                                           ————————–

"Its not as bad as it looks." Were the first words out of Zuko's mouth as he straightened up, only to wince at the sharp pain that radiated across his back and chest. He brought up a hand to rest it gently against the whip mark. Orora remained where she was, now biting her lower lip, her knuckles white from where she was clutching her bag and water skin to her chest.

Allowing her a few moments to collect herself, Zuko cleared his throat. "You gonna stand there or are you gonna come in and heal me?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at her. A look of surprise flitted across her features. "How did you-" She trailed off, wandering why he would say that after what she had just done to him.

The firebender shrugged. "Well, you always said you were a Healer first and foremost and then a Fighter, so I figured that's why you're here." Quickly pointing towards a cluster of candles, he lit them to give the room some more light for her to work in. "Yeah." She said, her shoulder drooping visibly, her eyes never once leaving the ugly bruise along his chest. "But....only if you want me to." The waterbender said, her voice small, and so utterly unlike her.

Zuko frowned. "Why wouldn't I want you to heal me? You've done it before, and to great results. Remember the time when I was sick?" The memory only served to remind her just how close she had gotten to loosing him to the fever that had raged his body for days. "I meant," She paused, gulping back a lump in her throat. "I meant after what I did."

She was still standing in the doorway, looking almost afraid. And she felt it too, afraid that she might hurt Zuko again. It was a ridiculous notion since Orora knew she wouldn't. In all honesty though, she just didn't trust herself. Realization dawned on him, and he pursed his lips. His suspicion had proven true, she did blame herself.

"There is no one in this world I would trust more to heal me then you Orora."

He didn't just mean his physical injuries.

Maybe she picked up on it, or perhaps she didn't. Whatever her perception, it caused her to look at him, finally meeting his eyes since she had stepped in his presence. He could imagine the storm of emotions that raged behind her ice blue eyes, and yet she was looking at him with a level of surprise, confusion and something else he couldn't identify.

Slowly she took one step forward.

Then another.

Then another.

Until she stood at the head of the bed, placing her bag and water skin next to the portrait of Iroh. She did glance at it, but now wasn't the time to admire the likeness in charcoal. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply before exhaling through her mouth. It wasn't difficult to allow the Healer within her to awaken and take charge.

Coating her hands with the clean water and activating her Healing Abilities, obvious since the water began to glow, Orora moved to sit down next to him. Zuko pushed himself forward so that he could rest his feet on the floor. Purposefully not making eye contact with the Prince, the girl pressed her hands against his abdomen. Though he hissed slightly, Zuko managed to hold back any other sounds of pain aside from an occasional sigh of relief as her Healing Abilities soothed the bruised skin and aching muscles.

And while Orora kept her gaze fixed on the wounds as she healed, Zuko's gaze never once wavered from her face.

He tried hard not to look at her, but he couldn't help himself. She hadn't washed her face, he noted the tear tracks, and her hair was in tangles, since she hadn't bothered to pull them up in a ponytail or comb through them. The look of sheer concentration on her face would slip every now and then, to one of guilt and concern, when he would react to the pain. The flickering candles cast a shadow across her face, making her appear even more downcast then she looked.

It only took her ten minutes until the bruise on his chest was near fading, looking as if it were a few days old rather then having just been inflicted a few hours ago.

"Turn." She said, her soft voice echoing in the otherwise silent room. Zuko mutely obeyed, turning around so she could assess his back as well as the back of his head. Repeating the same process that she had his chest, it took another ten minutes for her to heal the sporadic bruises across the broad expanse of his back, before shifting her attention to the back of his head. Another five minutes, and she was done.

Though the last session went by quicker because she had to brush away some of his hair to get to the swollen area, and the way his body had tensed had not gone unnoticed by her. Neither had the fact that she had unconsciously noted that his hair was just as soft as she remembered it to be.

Finally, once she was satisfied that there were no more bruises she could physically heal, the girl pulled back her hands, bending the water back into the water skin and standing up. "You should take something for the pain." She said, as Zuko lifted a hand to rub the spot where it had been hurting just a few minutes ago. Opening her bag, Orora quickly sifted through the various small pouches within. Once she'd selected one, she pulled it out.

Only for her eyes to fall on the portrait she had barely glanced over half an hour ago. Zuko glanced at her from where he had been pulling on his inner shirt. She paused, the pouch in her hand, while with the other she delicately picked up the frame. Even though it was a drawing, Orora could see the ever-present kindness that had always twinkled in her Master's eyes.

Zuko straightened so he could sit properly, just as Orora sat back down next to him. "Was he alright? When you would go see him?" She asked, her voice holding the pain of missing the kindest man she could ever know. The Prince nodded, his warm gaze flicking from the portrait she held to her face. "Yeah, he mentioned you whenever he spoke to me. He missed you." He revealed, hoping to alleviate some of the pain she felt in that moment.

It did, but it also made her miss him ever more.

Nodding, the girl set the frame back before holding out the pouch for him to take. "Here, just dissolve a pinch of the powder in water or tea and drink it at night before going to sleep. It'll help with any leftover pain." She promised, trying hard not to shudder when his fingers brushed against hers as he took the pouch. Wanting to ease her guilt Zuko decided to go for a rather direct tactic, lest she take the chance to walk away from him.

"It wasn't your fault Orora." Her jaw clenched at his words, and she looked away to stare at her hands which she had placed on her thighs. Her knuckles turned pale as they gripped the fabric of her shirt. "I should've been more on guard." He didn't look away from her, wanting to read her as much as he could to better handle the situation. "And I guess I underestimated you, you've become more powerful and skilled since the last time I saw you bend in battle."

His attempt to lighten the situation was met with a sharp intake of breath, followed by a shudder that wrecked through her entire body as she closed her eyes and shook her head. "Don't" She whispered, her hand hanging low, her hair acting as a curtain around her face, as if to hide her from the rest of the world.

To hide from him.

"Don't try to make it your fault Zuko." His eyes never wavered from her. Even though he couldn't see her face. "I shouldn't have let my anger get the better of me." She bit her lip, as if she were holding herself back from revealing something else.

And Zuko knew it too.

Knew it in the way she clenched her hands and the way her body tensed. Slightly hesitant, and yet hopeful at the same time, Zuko reached out, gently covering one of her hand with his own. Her reaction was immediate. Her mouth fell open, her breath hitched and her head lifted to meet his gaze. "You were right to be angry at me Orora." He said, his voice soft. "What I did and how much I hurt you, I don't even deserve to be in your presence."

Seems she hadn't run out of tears yet, judging by the burning behind her eyes as she tried blinking to keep them from falling. Her gaze dropped to where his hand was pressed atop hers.

There were three things Orora noticed about their hands. The contrast of their skin color, hers dark and his light. The feel of his callouses along his palm, probably from years of practicing his swordsmanship. But what she really noticed was how warm his hand was.

The one thing she ignored, though could not deny, was the glow of their strings.

Blue and red.

Neither of the strings had stopped glowing since their encounter earlier.

"I just..." She trailed off, swallowing the lump in her throat before starting again. "I just don't understand. Were we.....was I not enough for you?"

There.

It was out in the open.

The question that had haunted her every single day since Ba Sing Se.

Zuko's eyes widened as a horrible realization settled in his chest. His mind went blank for a brief moment, unable to comprehend the level of heartbreak Orora must've felt because she thought she hadn't been enough for him.

"No!" His reply came, quick and urgent. "No. No. No. No. No." He kept repeating. Against his better judgement, his other hand lifted to press his palm against the side of her cheek, guiding her face so that he could meet her eyes properly. Seeing her eyes shine with unshed tears only had his heart twisting in his chest. "Orora you-" He swallowed, trying to find the words to explain. "You were more then enough." His thumb traced a gentle path against her skin. "It was me. I thought you were leaving and I don't know, I guess I just......... just......" Zuko trailed off, sighing deeply, his eyes full of regret as he turned away from her, allowing his hands to fall away.

She instantly missed his warmth, while he missed her softness.

"My mother left me Orora. And I thought you were leaving me too. I thought that if I went back home then I wouldn't have to think about you leaving me because then I would've left first." Realization dawned on Orora, as her lips parted. Reaching out, she placed a hand on his shoulder. She felt him tense under her touch, but neither of them pulled away. "I was quick and rash about my decision, and because of that I lost you."

He lifted his head from where he had buried his forehead in his hand to look at her. "But believe me when I say, that I regretted it. The moment you were gone, I began to have doubts." His face was open and sincere as he continued. "When I was going back to the Fire Nation, and I realized I wouldn't be able to see you, talk to you, hold you, hug you, fight you, k-kiss you," He swallowed trying not to let his voice break even as a tear escaped his eye. "I knew I had made the worst decision I could ever have made." The final words were spoken barely above a whisper as silent tears paved a path down his cheeks.

Orora lifted her hand from his shoulder, only to cup his cheek the way he had hers just a few moments ago. She'd never seen Zuko cry, and it broke her heart to know just how much he had suffered because of what had happened to him in his past. Her thumb caught a tear, wiping it gently away, before she traced her fingers to the edge of his scar.

And after months of dreaming about it, of hoping that she wouldn't hate him so much that she never would do it again, her gentle fingers traced the scar that marred his face.

He closed his eyes, allowing himself to soak in the comfort of her touch as she brushed the tips of her fingers against his skin, tracing that familiar path she had memorized so long ago and still remembered it.

Slowly, the tears lessened before they finally stopped, and Zuko opened his eyes to see Orora offering him a tentative lilt of her head. He answered her silent question with a nod, reaching up to cover her hand with his own, savoring her touch for a few moments longer.

Her eyes dropped from his face to the fading bruise that still adorned his chest, a small part of it still visible since his shirt didn't cover the front of his chest completely. Unable to help herself, she found her fingers just barely touching the colored skin. Zuko barely moved, in truth he barely drew breath as he waited for her. He would've stayed like this, waiting for her to talk the entire night if he had to.

The silence prevailed. Yet this one was neither uncomfortable, nor was it heavy with unspoken feelings and doubts. They were both, finally, laying out the tiles on the table. Zuko had shown his White Lotus Tile, now it was her turn.

"I was so angry after you left." The girl began, her voice soft and low. "And for awhile I just stayed angry, but then I realized I was sad because I thought I hadn't been enough for you. To make you stay." His heart twinged at her words once again, but he kept quiet. "I kept it all in. Barely spoke to anyone about it and I was barely able to function."

She sighed, closing her eyes briefly before opening them again. "I finally broke and let everything out. Honestly, I had thought I'd moved past it but then I saw you again and all of it came rushing back." Unable to help himself, and wanting to provide her with the comfort she had given him, Zuko took the hand resting atop her thigh into both of his, giving it a light squeeze as he did.

"All that anger, it boiled inside me and I was unable to look past that anger and see that you had-no,have changed. I," She paused, pursing her lips, the devastation clear in her eyes. "I thought I hated you, and that devastated me." The waterbender finally revealed, feeling Zuko all but freeze in place.

Not wanting to loose him, and hoping to clear things, she continued, this time raising her eyes to meet his because she was desperate. Desperate for him to understand all that she had felt. "But then I realized I didn't, and that only made me more angry so I decided that I should just ignore you."

"But then you came in and you said to take it out on you and I did, and I hu-hurt you." Her words came out rushed and hurried, as if she were afraid she would loose her voice or perhaps her courage if she didn't reveal everything. "I hurt you even after I had promised myself that I would always protect you. You told me how so many people have hurt you, and I promised that I wouldn't be one of those people. But then I went and did exactly that. Just like your father. And-and..." She gasped for breath, the tears she had been holding back now streaming down her face as Zuko stared at her the shock evident on his face as he stared at her.

Did she really think that?

Did she really just compare herself to his father?!

Ever since they had met, it had been Orora who had comforted him. Who had shown him that there could be good in people, and that there was good in him. That he was not his family.

And now? It was his turn to make her see that she was one of the most beautiful people he had ever met. Both inside and out.

"No." He stated, his voice loud and determined as he glared at her. His proclamation was followed by a burst of light as his anger fueled the candles into burning brighter for a second before they resumed their gentle glow. Orora paused where she had opened her mouth to go on, gaping at him as the tears continued. "You are nothing like my father Orora." His voice one of conviction as he held her hand. "He's a heartless monster who doesn't care about anyone."

"But I hurt you Zuko." She tried to argue to which he responded with an answer that had her staring at him. "And I hurt you too didn't I? Does that make me like your father?"

The tears had finally stopped, and now they both just looked at one another. Zuko still held her hand in both of his, while her other hand had come to rest atop his chest in a gentle fist. Lifting her hand away from his warm skin, she gently pulled her hand out of his grip, before turning to sit straight once more.

"Orora." He said, his voice heavy, closing his eyes for a moment before continuing. "Neither of us will ever hope to move forward if we keep feeling guilty about hurting one another. I know you're still angry at me but, I just want you to be happy." He revealed, his hand finding the side of her face once again and turning her to face him. All so that he could force himself to look up her, to meet her gaze and answer any question she might have because she, at least, deserved that much honesty from him.

Though this time, even though he wanted to keep touching her, he pulled his hand back.

The girl shook her head, a look of resignation on her face as she sighed. "I can't be angry at you anymore Zuko." She whispered, and Zuko tried very hard not to let his hopes get too high. "I won't want to be angry anymore." Raising a hand to push back her hair from her face, the waterbender sighed yet again. "I'm just so tired."

"But what we had, that trust, its broken." She continued, once more turning her body towards him. Zuko nodded. "I know, and I am so so sorry for that Orora. I never realized how important it was until I lost it."

A nod followed his words almost immediately. "It will take time, to rebuild that trust again, just like it was the first time." Zuko, finally allowing his heart to swell with the hope he had denied himself earlier nodded. "I understand and I'm willing to do whatever I can to win your trust again Orora."

The two of them continued to gaze at one another, with Orora inwardly battling with herself, unable to decide whether she should ask what echoed in her heart. And Zuko sensed it, because he nodded at her in an encouraging manner.

"Is-is that all you're willing to win back? My trust?" She asked at last. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest and for a moment she thought that perhaps she had crossed a line. A brief flash of confusion sparked in his amber eyes, before he saw her blue gaze drop to their strings which were still glowing.

Eyes widening in realization, and a sharp breath sounding in the air, Zuko swallowed back the sudden lump that formed in his throat. His heart felt like it was doing flips in his chest, as he pursed his lips before speaking. "Do you want me to win back........more?"

Her reply was unsure and yet hopeful at the same time as she, looked away suddenly feeling shy.

"Maybe." She whispered.

Was it too much to ask of something like that? They were barely on speaking terms and here she was asking if they could be more?

Why?

Because during her meditation Orora had been able to comprehend just how easily they could loose one another. They were fighting in a war. What if the next time someone attacked, one of them didn't make it out?

So if he was willing to win back her trust, maybe he would be willing to win back her heart as well.

And if his reaction was anything to go by, what she had asked of him was perhaps something he wanted as well.

Because Zuko grabbed her arms and pulled her in for an embrace that was equal parts desperate as it was intimate. His arms came to wrap around her shoulders, while his face rested at the juncture between her neck and shoulder and he finally, finally, allowed himself to memorize her scent once again. Orora wasn't any better, she had her face buried in his chest, eyes closed as she savored his warmth as any remaining doubt she had were finally, finally, put to rest.

How long they stayed in that embrace? Neither of them had any idea. And even when Zuko pulled back, he didn't pull away. Instead he rested his forehead against her own, allowing them to stay close but so their eyes could meet.

"Then I'll devote every moment of my days to win you back Orora." He vowed, his face serious. "I promise, no matter how long it takes me."

With that, he reached into the pocket of the shirt he had pulled on, only to pull out an item she never thought she'd see again.

Her comb.

The one she had left back in Ba Sing Se.

Orora stared at it wide-eyed and in disbelief. "You dropped it during the fight." He explained, holding it out for her to take, which she did so, her fingers trembling slightly.

"Y-You kept it?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she lifted her gaze from the comb to meet his.

"It was the only thing I had that would remind me of you."

A blush stole across her cheeks as he reached up to brush some of her unruly hair behind her ear. But then he paused as another idea sparked in his head. One that had nearly his entire face flushing red, but he barely took note. Taking the comb gently from her fingers, he placed it against the side of her head, just behind her ear and pushed it into place. "So, of course, I kept it." He finished, his fingers lingering against her hair far longer then it was appropriate.

Sighing deeply, Orora closed her eyes, savoring the closeness and warmth he provided that she had sorely missed. "This isn't going to be easy. Is it?" She asked, and though there was a touch of humor in her words, there was also uncertainty.

Zuko shrugged. "You're from the Water Tribe and I'm from the Fire Nation. This," He gestured to where their strings were glowing.

"Was never going to be easy."

They still had a long road ahead of them, but at least it was a road they would travel together.

A few minutes later Orora walked out of Zuko's room, holding her bag and water skins. The light of the moon danced along her face, as if it too shared in her joy of not going to bed with a heavy heart for the first time in weeks.

And within the confines of his room, Zuko stared up at the ceiling, a rare smile on his lips as he thank every Spirit there was that fate had allowed him another chance to win back his soulmate.

This time though, he had no intention of messing anything up like he had the first.

At least not intentionally.

                                           ————————–

As soon as Orora had disappeared into her room, several shadows began to stir.

First, Sokka was dropped from the ceiling by Aang, who had been holding him up. Both of them had been on the ground near Zuko's door and as soon as they had heard Orora bid him goodnight, the boys had panicked. And Aang had quickly opened his staff, grabbed Sokka and began to levitate in the air.

Second, Toph dropped her camouflage wall from behind which she and Katara stepped out off, with the latter brushing away stray stones from her hair.

Had they been spying since the beginning?

Yes.

Did any of them regret it?

Of course not.

Would they do it again?

..........

Yes, yes they would.

                                           ————————–

Tag List - @wavesofchaos​ @violet-potter​ @rennysketch​ @emma-andrea1 @lovesammikinzz @fuzzyfestcat @msrawog @notsaelty @lust-for-pan @aces-tattooartist @jinxxangel13 @lotr-got @bitterspoons @realrintaro @gatorgirl151 @inutheangel @heartfully10 @lucaaahhh @juniper-july19 @anuttellaa @gfksz @bussyvussy @punksnotdeadbutiam @ablofftoneverland-blog-blog @slut-for-menn @vyliie @army-moa75 @juwhls @aqlodun @lovelybaka @glowyruby

[mjrtaurus]

I'm confused, is he trans or no? Because you say he had Luffy but also refer to him as male in the childhood posts. I'm sorry if i seem disrespectful, i'm still learning about trans stuff.

No problem! It's good to learn!

So the whole Sir Crocodile is Trans thing isn't canon, but it's a very common theory with quite a bit if evidence to back it up. The Crocomom/Crocodad Theory typically goes hand in hand with the Trans Crocodile theory, too. It also isn't canon.

So, officially, as far as we know, canon Crocodile is a cisgender man- meaning he identifies with the gender he was assigned at birth- until further notice.

I headcanon Crocodile as a trans man and as the one who gave birth to Luffy. It's safe to assume that whenever I am talking about Crocodile in a post, he is trans and Luffy's parent.

Now as for referring to him as male in his childhood, I headcanon that he knew he was a boy by the time he was four, which is not outside the realm of possibility in the real world. Kids have a sense of identity all their own, and not all identify as the gender they were assigned at birth. What they do with that information is between them and their parents/guardians. A trans child is not put on HRT- hormone replacement therapy. A trans child is not given sex reassignment surgery. A trans child- if they are fortunate enough to recieve any treatment at all- is put on puberty blockers. This has no detrimental longterm effects, and allows the child to feel at least a bit more comfortable in their body until they are old enough to actually recieve HRT. Again IF they are fortunate enough.

As for the pregnancy. Trans men can get pregnant. They can get pregnant even when undergoing HRT. The only time a trans man 100% can't get pregnant is if they were infertile to begin with, have been totally abstinent, or have had a hysterectomy.

Crocodile was out as a trans man by the time he got pregnant, but he still had a functioning uterus and ovaries. Typically the chances for pregnancy during HRT are pretty low, but they aren't impossible. And typically HRT is put on hold if the recipient is pregnant. Crocodile did not know he was, due to Luffy being a cryptic pregnancy. Iva not following medical protocol to test for pregnancy beforehand is a testament to the broken system in One Piece that mirrors our own in the real world. Trans folks often can't get the help they need safely and legally due to a lot of fearmongering against them from people in power who want to demonize them simply for being "different". Iva is not a medically licensed doctor, therefore protocol isn't exactly a thing to stand on. However, if they knew Crocodile was pregnant, they would not have gone through with the HRT until further notice.

But back to one of the original talking points, being pregnant doesn't mean a trans man is no longer a man. Pregnancy does not effect the identity of a trans man. There are trans men out there right now, many even on this site, who have given birth and still are men.

It can all seem a little confusing when you're still learning, so be gentle with yourself. And most of all, thank you so much for being willing to learn.

I would also like to be clear that I am not trans myself, so if anyone reading this is, and I have failed to relay certain information in a respectful way, or have left some crucial information out entirely, please correct me on that in a reblog, an ask, or a reply. I am still learning, too, and I want to treat this topic with the respect it's due.

[bones4thecats]

Hello (again lol) Can I request Ne Zha x fem pregnant reader please? :3 ✨

Ne Zha's Fem! S/O Being Pregnant

Character: Ne Zha Requester: @bellatrix2901 A/N: While many say that Ne Zha is a minor (specifically around 12), he is a deity, meaning he has lived for thousands of years. He is portrayed as an older adult/teenager, so we're going off of his canonical age and his status as immortal, yet-youthful looking man. ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: NONE ⚠️

••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●•

»»————————————-　 Ne Zha 　————————————-««

🪷 The sound of a pair of geta sandals hitting the ground over and over echoed in the building. And with the sound of rushing water, many would believe this to be a calm environment, oh how wrong were they

🪷 Pacing around you and Ne Zha's shared halls, a nervous whisper rummaged throughout your head; did Ne Zha want a child?

🪷 Eventually, you ran into one of your oldest servants, whom looked at you and laid a hand gently on your shoulder, making you turn to look at her. Small tears were threatening to fall from your eyes, and the elderly woman smiled and offered her arms for you to cry into

"Masashi..." you began, "do you think Ne Zha would even- you know- want a child around the house? I mean, he's a deity with a lot of responsibilities, would a kid and pregnant wife be too much?"

🪷 Masahi looked into your eyes with her narrowing blue ones and chuckled, a slightly hoarse voice coming out as she spoke

"Lord Ne Zha would never see you or your child as a burden. He loves you more than anyone else I have seen. And I've been breathing for 68 years. Take that for experience."

🪷 You smiled and nodded at the woman you saw as a Grandmother. Her smile always lit up a room, despite her constant battle with illnesses, she never stopped working, despite your pleas. She was a fighter and was very observant, so hearing this made you settle slightly

🪷 In the next couple weeks, Masashi readied you for when Ne Zha came home. It had been 14 weeks, and your baby bump was slightly showing through your long pink and blue dress. And while you were slightly nervous, the presence of Masashi calmed you

🪷 Here goes nothing.

»–•–«

"Would you like anything to feast on, my Lord and Lady?"

🪷 Looking up and smiling at the well-dressed man, you asked for a mooncake with soy sauce. Which while the servant found it normal and didn't react, Ne Zha looked at you in surprise and confusion. A mooncake with soy sauce?

"I'll just take a cup of sakura tea."

"Alrighty then. Your mooncake and teas will be out here momentarily, my Lord and Lady."

🪷 You smiled and looked back at your husband, who sighed and interlocked your fingers with his. You could tell he was tired and in desperate need of a nap or at least a happy story

🪷 Mustering up your courage, you thanked the servants who brought your food and tea before clearing your throat and saying the deity's name. His eye's sight connected with yours and he hummed, a signal for you to speak

"Do you remember those young deities who ran around the fields with large amounts of sakura flowers in their hands, just throwing them around and smiling like- well, children?" You asked.

"Yes. I remember them like it was yesterday. Holding a freshly fallen basket of the petals, I have to admit, it was quite endearing seeing them playing and being the children they are."

🪷 You smiled once again and chuckle at his eyes widening slightly as he spoke, he may not show it often, but he was truly a sweetheart. Despite what many like Sun Wukong said

🪷 Laying your teacup down on the saucer and onto the tabletop, you adjusted your position before mumbling a slight 'screw it' and walking to sit beside your husband, making him cock an eyebrow and summon a pillow for you to sit on again

🪷 Reaching out to hold his hands, Ne Zha looked at you in confusion and slight shock once more. What were you doing? And why were you holding his hands to your stomach?

🪷 Wait... is that a slight bump...? It cannot be...

"Y/N are you..."

"Pregnant? Yes. And don't worry, it's not Wukong's. I think I'd die with his hell-spawn in me."

🪷 Ne Zha stared at you in shock before you noticed his eyes watering over and begin to spill tears. The smile that covered his face made you smile yourself

🪷 Wrapping his arms around you tightly, Ne Zha began to sniffle and choke on his happy cries. He was going to be a father! Why would he ever be mad?

[mirandasidefics]

But Home is Nowhere- Chapter 9 (Pt2)

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel X Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Danaan x Plus Size Reader

Chapter 9 Pt2 Summary: Reader and Lucien finally get a chance to be alone while the High Lord of Day attempts his hand at subtle match making. However, things don't go according to plan.

Word Count: 9.3k (oops)

Warning(s): 18 + (MDNI), flirting, angst, alcohol use, self-deprecation, low self-esteem/worth, sexual tension (no smut), and nudity.

A/N: Here is the second part. This is a Lucien heavy chapter and was a BEAST overall. But I had so much fun writing it. There are a couple of places where the POV switches suddenly, but I wanted to show each scene from different character perspectives and not have to repeat the same events to do so. Again, thank you to @hardcoremarvelfan for her assistance with this chapter start to finish! And thank you to my team of beta readers! You guys are all amazing! Please let me know what you think. This is a slow burn fic, and I hope it's not moving too slowly story wise.

Series Masterlist Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Previous: Chapter 9 Pt1

During your breakfast of fruits, yogurt, and pastries, Helion informed you and Lucien of Mor’s return to the Night Court. The story he provided was that she had been called away by Rhysand. You knew that was a lie but didn’t understand why Helion would do so. Lucien simply shrugged, not at all fazed by her absence. You knew that he still didn’t quite get along with many of Rhysand’s closest friends and found family. To your knowledge Lucien never joined the ranks of that found family. Never present for the “family” dinners and only stayed for part of the two main holiday celebrations in the Night Court, Starfall and Winter Solstice.

For your first Starfall, Nyx had been just a bit too young to join in on the festivities. So, you stayed at the River House caring for him. After about an hour of supposed celebrations Lucien had joined you. You smiled as you remembered taking turns reading him a bedtime story.

When the Winter Solstice came around, you had opted to stay at the townhouse alone. You claimed to have your own traditions that you wanted to keep. Which was partially true. However, the thought of not being with your own family yet having to witness the happiness of another kept you confined to your bed. Though you had been pleasantly surprised to find the small gift from Lucien on your dresser that morning. It was nothing fancy, just a small blank notebook. The cover consisted of beautiful, pressed pale-yellow chrysanthemums and daisies preserved in a glass window.

Part of you had wondered if the choice of flowers was intentional. So, you had asked Elain if she was familiar with their meanings. She told you they meant friendship and new beginnings. Fitting in so many ways. You returned the gesture a few days later, baking him some of your Grandmother’s famous fudge. He hesitated at first, but eventually accepted the sweet treat.

One of Helion’s hearty laughs pulled you from the memory. You would have to express your gratitude to the High Lord. For the reprieve from being watched. It was a relief to not find Mor outside your bedchamber waiting for you as she had the past few mornings. Now you could have the conversation with Lucien that you’ve wanted to for over a week. You wanted, no you needed to pick his brain for insight regarding your passage through the Prison wards, your confrontation with Azriel, and your dream. He had left so abruptly. You needed to check in on his well-being as well.

Your eyes drifted over to Lucien; the male’s russet eye crinkled at the corner as he joined in Helion’s laughter. The sight took your breath away. The smile was wide on his features. His shoulders didn’t hold the same tension they had the day before. The golden hue of his skin simply radiated joy. In that moment you couldn’t burden him with your problems, despite the pull you felt to talk to him. At least, you couldn’t burden him right now. You knew that you had to talk to him at some point. The confrontation you had with Azriel and Mor’s blatant comments about your time with your best friend weighed heavy on your mind.

“Oh, if the two of you would excuse me,” One of Helion’s attendants righted himself after whispering in the High Lord’s ear. “I have a few things to take care of, but I will see you later this afternoon. If you haven’t had the chance, I would highly recommend a walk through the botanical gardens.” He winked at you and rose from his spot. While you were happy to finally have the time alone with Lucien, you weren’t sure if you’d be up for a walk.

“That sounds lovely,” the Autumn Court male rose from his seat as well, offering his arm. “Shall we, my lady?” You couldn’t stop the laugh that spilled from you. You soon found yourself rising to your own feet, linking your arm with his. How on earth are you supposed to say no to his smile?

Lucien could tell that she was tired. Her steps were slightly slower, and the light tint of blue underneath her eyes hinted that she hadn’t slept. He wondered if her despondent mood was based on the lack of sleep, or if it had to do with Mor's comments. She had been detached for most of their time in the palace and he was having trouble reading her. He had hoped that with Mor leaving her mood would improve. Seeing as that was slow going, he would have to see to it himself that her good humor returned. 

The gentle breeze jostled her hair. The sound of wind chimes echoed across the oasis, nearly drowned out by the sound of the small water fountain at the entrance to the garden. The lush archway was covered in ivy and wisterias. For a fleeting moment he was reminded of the Spring Court, and the gardens that surrounded Tamlin’s manor. He glanced at the human beside him, her eyes glazed over as she took in the scenery around them. A small part of him felt bad for dragging her out here, but they hadn’t really had any time alone together in over a week. All he wanted was some time with her away from prying eyes. 

Of course, separation wasn’t new to them. There had been times when he would be down in either the Spring Court or Mortal Lands for weeks on end. Yet somehow this past week and half felt different. Perhaps, it was because he had remained in Velaris and…he felt guilty for lying to her regarding his whereabouts. Even more so after learning from Ruhn of her sleepwalking incident. He expressed gratitude towards the Midgardian male for being in the townhouse that night. 

A part of him knew he shouldn’t have let Amren’s admonishing comments get to him. Especially after (Y/N)’s breakdown at the Prison. Nonetheless he stayed away. Those comments, coupled with Morrigan’s penchant for observing the truth of matters, perhaps it was high time that new tactics for the woman’s healing journey be explored. He knew Ruhn would be all too willing to help with how tightly he was warped around the human’s finger. Truth be told, the idea of another male sharing her bed didn’t sit well with him. But if Ruhn could provide her with the care and support that Lucien himself couldn’t… He’d have to bite his tongue and express his gratitude again when he asked him to continue to look out for her. 

As they walked towering hedges, ones taller than Lucien, lined either side of the white pebbled path. Every now and again a small alcove would be carved out. Some with seats that allowed you to bask in the sun, others had tables. One even had what appeared to be a canopy bed. Lucien watched her from the corner of his eye as they made their way through the labyrinth.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” He questioned as she tried to stifle a yawn. She turned her head towards him, eyebrow furrowed. He could almost watch the gears turn in her mind as she debated on telling him the truth. Her focus continued to fade in and out, pupils dilating and contracting ever so slightly.

“I haven’t really slept since our first night here,” Her face fell with the admission. His heart ached at the shame that filled her voice. Prior to the events at the Prison, she had been doing well. At least well enough that he hoped a few days away would not have taken the toll it did on her. And if the tonics weren’t working; then they truly would need to find alternative solutions to managing her nightmares. 

“With Mor around I didn’t want to risk,” She paused. “I didn’t want anyone to worry about me. The tonic isn’t helping. I think I’ll need to talk to the healers directly to find out if there was a change in the ingredients. Or if it's possible that a person can become tolerant of them.” She looked at him then. A sadness mixed with that lingering shame. 

Lucien kicked himself internally. He really should have told Mor to shut the fuck up regarding her opinions on their relationship, especially if she was going to continue to keep the nature of her own romances a secret. The fact that she was now the second of the higher-ranking members of Rhysand’s court to express their thoughts on his friendship was not lost on him. It was also not lost on him that (Y/N)’s feelings were irrelevant to them. In much the same way that Nesta had been forced out of her darkness, it appeared that the Inner Circle believed themselves superior in knowing when a person needed healing and how that healing should occur. The only difference between the eldest Archeron and their new target was that (Y/N) was not on a path of self-destruction. 

“We should rest then,” He took her hand and interlaced their fingers. “There was a nice area in an alcove just a few paces back.” 

“No Lu, it’s okay,” She tried to protest. “I’m okay, I promise.” Lucien continued his path, gently tugging her along. Despite her words, her body didn’t resist him. 

“Then why do I not believe you?” The resting area was the perfect setting for a nap. Tucked behind a wall of green and under a beige fabric canopy was a large mattress resting on a stone platform. Pillows and blankets of varying sizes were tossed about in a decorative fashion. Knowing the reputation of this court’s High Lord, the bed was probably used for activities that did not involve sleep. However, his companion desperately needed some rest. Nothing would deter his resolve in seeing that she had found a few moments of peace.

“Why does he have a bed in the middle of the garden?” She asked, coming to a halt after rounding the corner of what served as the entryway to the alcove. 

“I’m almost certain we do not want the answer to that,” Lucien chuckled, pulling her along. He sat her down on the mattress and began to remove her sandals. 

“I can do that myself,” Lucien swatted her hands away.

“It's fine,” He made quick work of the straps. “I’m already done.” He placed her footwear to the side and kicked off his own boots, setting them next to hers. Gently, he pressed her back to lay on the bed. His own body followed, hovering over her form for the briefest of pauses, and then he was next to her lying on his side. She rolled over to face him, allowing his arm to drape over her waist before he brought her closer.

“Get some rest,” He encouraged as his hand began to stroke up and down her spine. A soothing gesture he often used to get her to calm down when her mind raced at night.

“But I’m not tired,” She fought another yawn.

“Bullshit,” He chuckled.

“Okay, I’m a little tired,” She relented, tilting her head to look at his face. “But I can’t take a nap right now, not when I have so much to tell you.”

“And what is so urgent that it can’t wait an hour or two?” He smirked. She twisted her arm out from underneath her body and pointed her index finger at him.

“You have to promise that this information is cataloged in the farthest and most well-guarded recesses of your mind,” Her tone was serious. “Rhysand cannot find out, even if there is a good chance that he already knows.”

“I swear,” He tried to match her serious tone, but he knew that his smile was getting in the way. Pushing herself up on her elbow, she swirled her head around, looking for any potential eavesdroppers. Once satisfied, she bent down towards his ear. Her breath puffed against his skin, causing the small hairs on his neck to rise.  

“Rhysand’s story of me being his cousin is very likely true,” She whispered. “There is a secret entrance to the Prison that Bryce pushed me into that day. I was able to pass through the ward, in and back out, with no issue.” Her eyes were conspiratorially bright.

“Is that what made you so upset?” He tried to reign in his mirth. “That you found out you are related to an overgrown bat?” Rolling her eyes, she sighed and lightly smacked his chest.

“No,” Her tone became softer as she laid back down. “I cried because I allowed myself to feel a glimmer of hope, just to have it dashed by a failed portal to my world.” The hand at her back reached up to her face, his fingertips brushing the side of her cheek.

“I’m so sorry.” She gave him a weak smile, brushing off her own feelings as she attempted to shrug her shoulders. “Is that what caused your nightmare?” His hand returned to its previous ministration along her back. Again, she shrugged.

“Could be,” He felt a shiver run through her at whatever memory surfaced. “All I remember is a festering and desolate darkness that tried to drown me.”

“That’s not ominous at all.” She released a breathy chuckle as her eyelids drifted close.

“My dreams are never prophetic,” She explained. “Just weird. It’s more likely my mind’s way of trying to process being cornered by Azriel in the kitchen that night.” Her voice drifted, and if she noticed Lucien’s hand freeze at her revelation she didn’t let on. Lucien felt locked in his anger towards the Shadowsinger.

“What did he want?” His voice was clipped.

“He wanted to apologize,” She buried her face into his chest, and the rising anger settled. “I told him off instead. Nicked his chin with a knife as well.” Her exhalation evened into a steady rhythm, and he resumed running his fingers along her back. The repetitive action soothed his nerves as well.

“Good girl,” She hummed in response. As she finally drifted off into sleep, Lucien’s mind swirled.

 You hadn’t even been asleep for 30 minutes when an attendant came and woke you. Begrudgingly, you and Lucien complied, the male putting your sandals back on for you despite your ongoing protests. The attendant led you back to your room where several dresses were laid out on the bed and hanging in the armoire. Dresses in varying shades ranging from stark white to cream to ivory. Some were speckled in golden accents, others all monochromatic. One dress was entirely golden.

The dress that immediately caught your eye was a simple column gown with thick shoulder straps that seamlessly flowed down to create the bodice. The neckline was low and would reveal an ample amount of cleavage. A braided rope created a beautiful silhouette, cupping the outline of the bodice’s breasts and wrapping around the waist several times over. The attendant informed you that the dresses were yours and for your use in the Day Court whenever you came to visit, along with the room itself. While it was a similar gift to what Rhysand had done, Helion’s offer was not one of apology or self-assigned obligation. The true intent of his action had not been lost on either you or Lucien. Helion’s offer marked a standing invitation, and an allyship if ever needed.

With the help of another female attendant, you had changed into the dress. You had to hide the small blush on your face as you watched Lucien pause when you emerged from your room. The two of you then followed the male attendant through the winding cobblestone streets of the town surrounding the palace. He led you to a large building whose entrance reminded you of the Parthenon in Athens.

Helion was inside, sitting at a long central table. A stack of books piled to his mid-chest. He was scribbling on a piece of parchment paper with a feather quill. You smiled at the sight, but you couldn’t quite place why. His greeting was as warm as always. Excusing the attendant, he gave you and Lucien a summary of the central library’s history. The one you were in currently was the largest library within the Day Court, but it certainly was not the oldest. However, he was confident that whatever information you were looking for on Prythian's early history would be located within its walls. You simply smiled in thanks; you had not yet revealed that you were from another world and looking for a way home. 

 After an afternoon spent searching through books, the last thing you had the energy for was another formal dinner. It almost seemed that the High Lord was aware of your lack of sleep when he offered a much less formal affair. An evening in a small intimate chamber. The center of the room consisted of a square recessed seating surrounding a fire pit. Two walls were lined with books, while a third housed a small selection of wine next to the door leading to the rest of the place. The fourth really didn't exist as it was yet another open entrance to a terrace that overlooked the lands. So many of the rooms were open in this manner, allowing the natural sunlight to fill the space.

Currently you were snacking on bits of herb roasted chicken, plucked off one of the wooden trays of food that lined the edges of the pit, a few were even scattered along the empty seats. In your other hand was a large clear goblet, filled with a deep crimson wine. Helion informed that the batch was made from the palace’s ancient vineyard, a testament to a perfect blend of ancient craft and magic. You had to admit that the wine was the best tasting wine you had ever experienced.

Fae Wine was much sweeter than you had expected. Flavors of dark cherry and bergamot coated your lips and tongue.At first Lucien didn't want you to drink the intoxicant. After plenty of reassurance from Helion, Lucien only warned you to pace yourself. Of course, you didn’t listen, not fully realizing that Fae Wine was much stronger than normal wine. You found yourself with your walls and inhibitions considerably lowered. For instance, if you had drunk regular wine, you wouldn't have been unabashedly staring at your friend for the better part of 15 minutes. Despite his continued conversation with Helion sitting across the way, you could tell he watched you as well.  

“Forgive me for asking,” You sat on your knees, leaning towards Lucien as he sat in front of you. His legs stretched out on the large couch in a relaxed posture. “I know it must be a sensitive subject, but how does that golden eye work?”

“I can see out of it just like my real eye,” He explained, turning his gaze fully towards you. “My friend from the Dawn Court enchanted it, allowing me to see. I have complete control over the device, and it responds and reacts in all the same ways my natural eye does.” Your eyes went wide, and you felt your cheeks burn from your smile.

“Absolutely fascinating,” You crawled over to him, the alcohol preventing you from caring about personal space. You climbed into his lap, straddling his hips, and began to examine the contraption. You had never looked at the eye up close. The mechanics were definitely a marvel to behold.

“It does more as well,” He smiled at you, his fingers playing with the ends of the cords holding your dress together. “It has the capability to see through magical deceptions. Glamours, spells, and occasionally lingering traces of magic.”

“How?” You cupped the right side of his jaw, turning his face to get a better look. Accompanied by a faint whirring the pupil of the mechanical eye expanded.

“When there is lingering magic on an object, or even a person,” He began. “The image becomes hazy, out of focus. The eye focuses until the image is clear, which allows me to see the true nature of the object.”

“What do you see when you look at me?” He turned his head forward to look into your eyes. His lips open and shut like a fish causing you to giggle. You gently rubbed your thumbs on each side of his face as you held it.

“I think your boldness has put him at a loss for words,” Helion laughed from his seat across the way. You had forgotten that you weren’t alone.

“He’s spent too much time in those stuffy seasonal courts,” Lucien scoffed at the High Lord’s comment, the puff of air hitting your neck. “Perhaps he needs a proper demonstration on how to respond when a beautiful woman seats herself upon his lap. Care to join me for that demonstration?” The High Lord patted the top of his muscular golden thigh. 

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. Biting your bottom lip, you started to move off Lucien’s lap. You only managed to move about 2 inches before you felt his warm hands wrap around your hips pinning you against him. Heat bloomed in your core at the friction. His lips curled up in a snarl as he stared at the other male. Helion merely grinned. 

“Oh hush!” You smacked the redhead in the center of his chest, your other hand moving to his shoulder to keep your balance. “He’s joking. We all know that I’m not beautiful.” Your voice became softer as you said the words out loud. Despite your slightly drunken state, you felt the shift in the air as both males practically began to examine you. 

“How would you describe yourself my dear?”  Helion asked. It was your turn to pause. You had never really seen yourself as beautiful, but you also knew that you weren't exactly ugly. 

“Plain,” You hummed, twirling a bit of Lucien’s long hair around your finger in your attempt to feign an air of nonchalance. “Homely, unappealing, just shy of decent.” You rattled off each synonym. Your attention shifted to Lucien as your name drifted past his lips. You unraveled the hair from around your digit. 

“What?” You honestly didn’t understand why he appeared displeased with your statement. “Oh don’t give me that look, Lu.” You playfully pushed his face away from yours, but remained seated in his lap. 

“How should he look at you?” Helion asked, leaning forward on his elbows. The merriment that filled the room was slowly dissipating. “Because from what we see the description you provided for the woman in the room with us is a bit harsh.” Your face flushed with irritation, leaning back and away from Lucien’s chest. Why couldn’t they understand that you had accepted the fact that you weren’t beautiful and just leave it at that? 

“Well for starters I don’t need false praise,” You tried to keep the air light, the following lie floating off your tongue. “It’s not harsh when what I say about myself is objectively true.” You shifted your weight, but Lucien’s hold on your hips was firm. 

“Then by all means,” He waved his hand, smiling as if he had won. “Tell us some of these objective truths.”  

“I’m not conventionally pretty, but there are parts of me that are…nice,” You stated, turning your upper body  to lock your gaze with the High Lord. You square your shoulders before speaking again. 

“Like my legs.” You felt Lucien’s hands drag their way down your hips down toward your thighs. You felt exposed by the soothing circles he rubbed into the bare flesh as the dress’ fabric fell at the slits. The alcohol coursing through your veins gave the impression that his hands were warmer than usual. 

“What else?” Lucien’s voice was barely above a whisper. A reassuring squeeze to your outer thighs sent a scorching heat through you. Your legs tensed and your hands fell to your sides.

“My eyes,” You swallowed, your attention returning to the male underneath you. “I think my eyes are pretty.” As Lucien’s mismatched eyes bored into you, you noticed a fire burning in his russet iris. 

The flame grew as he stared at you, and your heart began to flutter. You watched as his golden mechanical eye expanded and contracted. His lips twitched with unspoken words. Words you were suddenly afraid to hear. His fingers danced around yours, trying to interlock them, but you kept them at your side. You needed to curb this conversation before you were set on fire by the intensity of his gaze. 

“But it has been my experience that when men give me compliments they only do so because they want something from me, not because they genuinely believe their words to be true.” Your head whipped back to the High Lord. “As soon as they don’t get what they want their pretty words turn to ash.” 

“That last one is not objective then,” the High Lord pointed out. “Rather those are the words of scorned human men, not Fae males who understand and see the natural beauty in everything the Mother has created.” Your body felt hot, and you shifted your weight as far from Lucien’s hips as you could. Poised and ready to leave if this conversation continued. 

“I’m sorry High Lord,” Irritation flashing over your senses, causing the filter from your brain to your mouth to momentarily slip away. “But those are just more pretty words.” Lucien’s hands gently followed your body’s every shift with a sense of hesitation to them. You didn’t want to focus on what that hesitation meant. 

“No need to apologize to me dear one,” Helion leaned back in his seat. His honey eyes flashed to Lucien, whose grip on your upper thighs tightened unconsciously. At least you hoped the action was unconscious. You didn’t want to believe that he would ever want to hold you close in what was certainly a compromising position. Hastily, you stood up from your perch on his lap.

“I’m sorry,” The apology tumbled from your lips, and you ignored the flicker of disappointment on his face. “If I made you uncomfortable…I sometimes…I should go. Excuse me.”

“Wait,” Lucien swung his legs to the side of the couch and grasped her hand, desperately trying to interlock their fingers. “Please, love.”

“Let go, Lu,” Her breath was ragged as she gripped the wrist of the hand trying to hold on to her. “Please.” Her fingers slipped through his, and he could tell that something wasn’t right. His eyes fell to her legs, the fabric of her dress parting at the high slits showcasing their shape as she raced for the door. Helion sat up again, watching as she darted past, calling your name as well.

“I didn’t intend for the conversation to upset her,” Helion apologized as the door shut behind her. “It’s a shame she doesn’t see her beauty. She is remarkable.”

“She is,” Lucien continued to stare forward, his voice breathless as his eyes lost focus. “She’s beautiful.”

“Beautiful, yet in a very different sense from your mate. I have nothing against the Archeron girl, but (Y/N),” Helion’s eyes lingered over the space that she hurried from. “She seems much more your speed. Don’t let her go so quickly.” 

“She doesn’t belong to me,” Lucien stated simply. His eyes regained their focus on the male before him, schooling his features in the process.

“Hmm…Then should I see if she’s interested in joining me in my chambers tonight? Worship her like the goddess she is.” Frustration built up inside him, nearly boiling over and  Lucien’s mask of indifference fell ever so slightly. The High Lord raised an eyebrow. “Or perhaps not.” 

The two males sat in silence for a few moments longer. The once light atmosphere now dulled in the human’s absence. Lucien could feel the beginning effects of the alcohol on his mind, as he drummed his fingers along his knee. Her departure didn’t sit right with him. The way she spoke of herself. If Helion sought her out, his words and actions may only solidify her beliefs about herself. She should hear it from someone she trusts to be honest with her. Lucien had to make it right. She had to see that she was stunning in her own way.

Abruptly, he stood from his chair and strode over to the wine rack. Grabbing two bottles of Day Court’s best he then stormed out of the room.

“Have fun,” Helion smiled as he watched the door close behind Lucien. “Son.”

Lucien didn’t even bother with knocking on her door when he arrived at her room. With one bottle under his arm, he simply turned the handle and strode right inside. 

“Why must you go and say such things?” He demanded.

“What things?” She was grating his nerves.

“You know damn well what I mean.”

“I’d really rather not fight with you Lu,” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Can we have this conversation when we are both sober? My head is starting to hurt, and I’ve not slept in two days!” She walked over to him, hands wrapping around the fabric of his white linen top. A playful pout danced across her features. Almost instantly the anger drained from him.

“By the Cauldron,” He dramatically rolled his eyes. “How can I say no to that look?”

“You can’t,” She smiled, tucking a stray strand of his hair behind his ear. “You are my best friend here Lucien. I just want to change and relax, preferably by curling up with you on the balcony. The weather is so nice here.” He gently clasped her hand, holding her palm against his lips. 

“As you wish,” He watched as something crossed over her features, but it was gone too quickly for his buzzed mind to process. With surprising grace, she walked over to her luggage and pulled out her nightclothes before proceeding to the ensuite bathing chamber. With the tap water running, he made himself busy by finding glasses and pouring each of them a fresh glass of wine. 

When she emerged, he was lounging on the “L” shaped couch set just at the opening of the bedroom as it led to the balcony. The khaki-colored cushions were plush and soft as he leaned against them. She sat down next to him, and he handed her the glass he poured. She immediately consumed half the glass, before she tucked herself into his side.

The town below Helion’s palace glowed a soft warm golden hue. It almost reminded him of Autumn, with the torches and gas lamps lining the streets of the village nearby the Forest House. Together they drank their wine. His arm over her shoulder, her free hand raised to hold his dangling fingers. They sat like that for a while. They sat for so long that he almost thought she had fallen asleep.

“Azriel thinks you and I are fucking,” Her statement pierced the comfortable silence.

“What?” Lucien nearly choked on the last dregs of his wine.

“Yep,” She emphasized the ‘p’ with a pop of her lips. “Apparently, I am a shameless human whore corrupting the right and virtuous Fae Lord.” She giggled to herself. “Oh! That rhymes!” She lightly smacked his chest in delight.

“He called you a whore?” Lucien could feel his fire just under the surface of his palms.

“No. No,” She took a small sip from her glass. Her eyes still focused on the flickering lights of the town surrounding the palace.

“But there was a clear disapproval of the fact that we share a bed whenever we are together,” She sighed, Lucien’s nod was barely visible as she continued to ramble. “Remember when I told you about how he cornered me in the kitchen? That’s when he insinuated that I must enjoy having another female’s mate in my bed. Apparently, beds are no longer used for sleeping. Just fucking, and since we share a bed that must be all that we do. Fuck.”

That now made three. Three members of the Inner Circle expressed their disapproval of his actions. Already believing that he was not a male of his word. He knew he didn’t have the best reputation after…while living in Spring the past couple centuries. If he had to be honest, he was an absolute rake. So why was he trying so hard to prove otherwise now? He was startled as she let out a dramatic gasp.

“What if that’s the reason my sleep tonics don’t work!” Uncrossing her legs she spun to face him. “What if one of those fucking assholes switched them out? For contraceptives!” Lucien blinked at her a few times, his brain trying to process the near ludicrous statement she had made.

“That is an interesting theory,” He couldn’t hold in his laughter. “But you always fall right asleep after taking your tonic. So how does that fit in?”

“That could be the placebo effect!” Her animated movements caused him to laugh more.

“The what effect?” He laughed. She groaned and slapped her palm against her forehead.

“So, the horrible cliff notes explanation is that my brain had adapted to falling asleep right away after drinking my tonic,” He nodded along even though he had no clue what she was saying. “So, if someone switched it without my knowledge, my brain still thinks it’s taking the same tonic. Therefore, it behaves in the same way by flooding my brain with the “sleepy time” signals. My brain is tricking itself into falling asleep, but the tonic isn’t actually in my system to keep me asleep. I have nightmares because my brain isn’t getting what it had been before.” Her eyes were wide, and if she hadn’t drunk nearly three bottles of Fae Wine on her own since the start of dinner a few hours ago, he may have believed her.

“Okay, well then for the sake of the argument,” He placed his empty glass down and began scooting closer to her, “Maybe they are doing us a favor. I do sleep in your bed more often than I sleep in mine. And I was known as a male with many dalliances.” Waggling his eyebrows Lucien clutched her arm and leaned into her side. She looked at him with round wide (e/c) orbs.

“Perhaps we should take advantage of these contraceptives and ravish each other,” He buried his face in her neck, playfully growling and nipping at her skin. She yelped and pushed at his face, all the while giggling. He grabbed the back of her knee, the act of pulling her towards him resulted in her back landing on the couch cushions below. Taking her wine glass out of her hand, Lucien set it on the small table. Her laughter was contagious, and he felt lighter than he had in days.

“Be serious,” She continued to giggle from under him. “You wouldn’t want me.” He leaned down, hovering above her. 

“What makes you think that?” He brushed his nose against hers. This time she didn’t laugh.

“The fact that you are a good male,” She squeezed his cheeks together until his lips puckered like that of a fish. His vision blurred as the skin was mushed around. She let go and slipped out from under his arm. He sat back up and watched as she picked up her glass. His mouth dried up as her ass jiggled from her prancing a few steps out of his reach and back into her bedroom proper.

“That has nothing to do with wanting you or not,” He said smoothly, standing and following her inside.

“You’re right,” She mused. “But you don’t want me.”

“How do you know? What makes you so sure?”

“First, you have a mate,” Her tone took on a more serious edge. “One that is beautiful beyond comparison.” He remained silent. It was true that his mate was the most beautiful female he had ever seen. So then why did he feel guilty when he saw the sad recognition in (Y/N)’s eyes.

“Secondly, this,” His eyes followed her hand as it waved up and down the length of her form. “This is not attractive. This-”

“Yes, you are,” He was breathless. He watched as she clenched her jaw.

“No,” Her tone was indignant. “And I’ll prove it to you.” She set her glass down on a nearby table and her hands immediately clasped around the hem of her top. In one quick motion the emerald top was gone, and Lucien’s breath caught in his throat. Mother spare him, he tried to look away but wasn’t quick enough. His eyes caught sight of her bare breasts as they gently bounced from the movement.

“I hereby challenge you to a game of chicken,” Picking up her wine glass, she sauntered over to him, swaying her hips. “The first to show physical signs of arousal is the loser.” She held out her free hand to him. He knew that the terms of the little contest were set in her favor. She’d have to allow him between her legs for him to see any evidence of her arousal, but he convinced himself that the wine swayed him to agree.

“What does the winner get?” He asked, pulling his shirt up and over his head. Her eyes roamed over the expanse of his chest.

“The right to determine where the night goes,” Her saccharine smile practically sent him to his knees. “Anything goes, except the direct stimulation of genitals.” Suddenly, the room became unbearably warm. She continued her path towards the bed. She set the glass back down on the nightstand, and slowly removed her matching emerald silk sleep shorts. 

He felt himself stiffen at the view of her shapely bare form before him. While he could blame the wine for influencing him, he had clearly already lost. He said a silent prayer in thanks to the Mother that his trousers were still on, and she was facing the opposite direction.

“Though I do believe that the odds are in your favor,” She giggled to herself as she turned to face him. She placed herself on the bed as she watched him, picking up her glass for a final time. He took the opportunity to finish undressing, watching as her throat bobbed from swallowing the rest of her wine. Her eyes sparkled as he shed the last bit of his clothes.

“You know how I know?” She practically purred from her position on the bed. “Because you’re too good a male to find anyone except your mate arousing.”

“Being a good male is a burden really,” He smiled, and began to crawl up the mattress. A fox hunting its prey.

“Poor baby,” She leaned against the headboard, arms settling over her stomach, blocking it from view. He was vaguely aware the pose served a double purpose of hiding what she felt was a flaw while perfectly framing her assets. He reached where she sat on the bed. She allowed his fingers to trace up along her bicep, over her shoulder, and across her collar bones. His golden eye focused on the skin that pebbled in the wake of his touch.

“Poor baby indeed.”

“If you were to relieve your burden,” She allowed his hand to continue its travels up the side of her neck and cup her cheek. The scent of arousal permeated the air, but he didn’t call her out on it. He lowered his face towards hers, their noses barely touching.

“I would wrap my lips around your nipple like a starved babe,” Her eyes went wide but were quickly filled with doubt. He watched as she visibly started to close herself off. Shoulders slumping forward and her knees rose to her chest.

That was not exactly the desired effect he had wanted from  her. He wanted her to know just how gorgeous and tempting she really was. And Cauldron boil him she was tempting. His gaze wandered over her form to the ivory lace bottoms she still wore. Even without the alcohol coursing through him, he knew in that instant that if she were completely bare before him, he would bury his face between her legs. He should have called her out for the sweet scent she emitted.

“We should sleep,” Her voice whispered, as she turned away from him.

“And miss the opportunity to prove to everyone, to ourselves, that-”

“We are just friends,” She interrupted, turning back to look at him. Her gaze traveled over him. “Besides, you lost the game.”

Lucien sighed as she fought back her own giggle. The tension in the air evaporated just as quickly as it had arrived. He didn’t need to look down to know that he was hard as a rock. He should have known better than to agree to her terms.

“Fine you win,” He turned and sat next to her on the bed, his left leg bent to block her view of him. “But you are a cheater by wearing those panties.” She stuck out her tongue. He took a few deep breaths to try and calm his erection. In through his nose, out through his mouth.

“You know,” Her voice trailed off as she covered herself with the cotton sheet. “I feel a little bad about your situation. But I really do believe that…”

“I wouldn’t have proposed anything more than sleeping, love,” He reassured, pulling the sheets back and climbing under them as well. “Not because you are right, but because you desperately need sleep.” She nodded, humming thoughtfully to herself, before she turned on her side facing away from him. He started to scoot over towards her when she pushed her hand in his face.

“Nope!” She warned. “No cuddles until you’re flaccid.” 

Lucien was just on the cusp of waking. His base senses and instinct were the only things drifting through the fog of early morning slumber. The room was quiet, as was the still sleeping city outside. A cool early morning autumn breeze danced over the bare skin of his shoulder as it peaked out from under the light cotton sheet. The air caused the flesh to rise in small bumps, each one threatening to bring even more awareness to his consciousness. However, it was a welcome sensation compared to the stuffiness of the room. Then again, the shifting body next to him was pleasantly warm. 

Slowly he became aware of his hand resting on a soft plush thigh that was wrapped over his hips. The weight of the limb was comfortable and grounding. A steady rhythm of warm air ghosted over the pulse point of his neck. His voice involuntarily gave way to a whispered hum. With the slightest shift, to not wake himself nor the figure next to him, Lucien merged into the softness. Hand wrapping around the waist to bring the plush figure flush against his, he allowed himself to meld with the body resting nearly atop him. Soft full breasts pressed into his chest and a hand found its home near the top of his shoulder.

The scent of vanilla and honey lulled him back into a relaxing sleep. He didn’t even notice the touch of jasmine was missing from his mate’s scent. It was replaced with another soft warm earthy aroma. Amber. She felt so good sleeping against him. A slight nudge of the tip of her nose against his throat caused his hips to buck ever so gently. He didn’t dare open his eyes or move as the female took a quick inhale of breath. Nothing sharp enough to indicate wakefulness. The nose again brushed along the column of his throat, a set of plush lips quickly following. 

He was nearly awake now with the blood rushing to the growing appendage below his waist. He didn’t know what had entered Elain’s mind to where she felt the need to crawl into bed with him, but he was glad she had. Except…that didn’t seem right. He hadn’t fallen asleep in the Night Court last night. Therefore, there was no way that Elain could be here right now. His heart went into an instant gallop as his eyes shot open. It most certainly wasn’t Elain that was so tightly wrapped up around him. Carefully he pulled his head back far enough to look at the sleeping woman. As he looked down at her figure he tried to prevent his length from stiffening more. 

The early morning rays of sunlight filtered through the sheer white gossamer fabric hanging down around the marble columns surrounding the bed frame, cascading down across her skin that wasn’t covered by the sheets. Her features were relaxed as she continued to sleep on his chest. Something deep in him, deeper than where his magic lingered in his bones, hummed. He knew that he should be separating himself from her, but he couldn’t get his body to comply. It was as if it would only respond to a higher power, one that was perfectly content to have him remain right where he was.

He must still be drunk. That’s the real reason for his lack of control. Bits and pieces of the night before tried to stitch themselves together. He remembered entering her room, another two bottles of Fae wine in his hands. Mother above, two bottles. Internally, he rolled his eyes at his past actions. That had been a mistake. He didn’t remember if they finished said bottles, which then led to his conclusion that they must have. It had been a long time since he had woken without his memory fully intact. As much as he wanted to continue to lie like this with her, he knew that should the wrong person decide to enter the chamber they would have a more difficult time dissuading any rumors. However, he couldn’t bring himself to jostle or rush her out of her slumber.

A gentle tracing ghosted along the skin of your back. The shiver that passed over you slowly brought your mind to consciousness. You knew instantly that Lucien was with you simply from the fact that you were not screaming. You felt like you were floating, you were so at peace. Your own fingers twitched along the warm skin of the chest beneath you.

“Good morning sweet girl,” Lucien murmured. Perhaps you were still dreaming, but you could have sworn you felt his lips press against your forehead.

“Hmm, morning,” You didn’t want to open your eyes. Pressing further into his warmth, something stiff poked at your inner thigh. Your eyes shot open. You bolted upright, flinging the sheet to the side and stared at the expanse of golden skin before you.  

“Why are you naked?” Your voice rose in pitch and volume with each word, your cheeks flushing crimson. ‘Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look!’ You really tried not to look down, but you apparently lost the ability to maintain control of your own body. Your (e/c) orbs darted down and back up. You desperately wanted to rid your mind of the image of his hard cock, if even just to prevent yourself from wandering to it late at night, but you knew that that sight would be forever burned in your brain. You shook your head of the fleeting thought that the females in his life must certainly have had a good time with…well, him. 

“I think the better question is why are you?” His own eyebrow quirked up in mirth. He clearly found this all much more amusing than you did. So far, all this has just proved that maybe it was time for distance. You glanced back down at your own body to see that you were in fact mostly nude. You sighed in relief when you saw that you still had a pair of underwear on. However, your relief was quickly replaced by horror in the fact that Lucien was able to see the rest of your naked form. You were aware this wasn’t exactly the first time you’d been in a state of undress around him, but he had always averted his eyes.

Your head snapped up to look at him. Had you been any slower you would have missed the fact that his gaze rested on your chest. Hastily pulling the blankets to cover yourself, your face flushed a second time. You likely would not have minded his stare had you been wearing a bra or a tank top. You knew that your full heavy breasts were eye-catching and enjoyed that fact when you had your short bouts of confidence in your appearance. But that wasn’t when gravity had full control of them as it does now. 

“What happened last night?” You wracked your brain for any explanation as to why you’d both been in your current nude state.

“What do you remember?” He asked. You wrapped the sheet around you, tucking the ends in at the top to form a makeshift robe.

“I remember returning to my room,” Your brows scrunched together. “The rest is blank. Fucking shit balls, I’ve NEVER been black out drunk before.” You pressed the heels of your palms against your forehead. Your head hurt and nausea washed over you. You were going to be sick. Grabbing the bottom of the sheet you ran towards the ensuite bathroom.

The porcelain toilet was cold against your fingers as you heaved your guts into the bowl. Within seconds, a pair of hands carded their way into your hair and pulled it back out of the way. One hand continued to hold your (h/c) locks back while the other rubbed your back in soothing circles.

You were grateful for him. He seemed to always know what you needed and would support you in any way you needed support. And you knew you’d do the same for him. So, the least you could do is support the fact that he has a mate by putting some distance between the two of you. And he’d need to know exactly why, even if it meant being hurtful at this moment.

“The others have been talking,” You started, but another wave of sickness left your body.

“Shh,” He continued to rub your back. “I-I know. We can talk about that later though.”

“I think it's best if there is some separation between us,” The words felt hollow in your ears even though you say them. “I’m not about to be labeled a homewrecker, despite the fact that no home exists for you and Elain right now.”

“Nothing happened between us,” He tried to reason, but you could hear the uncertainty in his own voice. “Did it?”

“You don’t remember?” You turned to look at him as he continued to kneel next to you, you noted that he had yet to cover himself. His hands paused for the briefest of moments. As the waves of your nausea subsided your attention went towards your lower body. You knew your body well. While you were no virgin, it had been a few years since you had sex. Given Lucien’s size, and the lack of a dull ache between your legs, you could tell that at least no penetration

had occurred between the two of you. He was certainly a much better male than anyone gave him credit for.

“I’m quite certain nothing happened,” You rested your head against the bowl. “And why would it? Look at me, I am nothing compared to her.” You wanted to ignore the flame that shone in his eye. The one you knew was sparked from irritation.

“Surely you must not think that I’d be so shallow-”

“Aren’t all men-males?” You were going to win this fight. You would always make sure you won this fight. Anytime someone tried to convince you that your appearance didn’t matter you would argue against it. You had been scorned too many times by men in your past. You knew that your appearance certainly did matter a great deal to anyone that wasn’t just looking to get his cock wet.

“Then again, men don’t care what you look like if they know the night will end in sex.” But they certainly cared when it meant introducing you to others as a potential partner. And as far as you were aware, your physical appearance wasn’t ‘girlfriend or wife material’ worthy. Lucien just stared at you, so you stared right back. Even if he had to lie to you, lie to himself, you could not afford to hope that Fae males were any different. You could not hope that any of them could find you beautiful.

“I will not lie to you-” His voice almost sounded defeated.

“Good,” You cut him off again, looking up. “Then we can move on.” You hoped he didn’t miss the pleading look in your eyes. Flushing the toilet, you made to rise from the floor. Lucien helped you to your feet, and continued to hold your hair as you took small sips of water from the sink’s tap. Removing his hand from your hair, you interlaced your fingers with his.

“I’m not cutting you out of my life, Lucien. You are very important to me. We are friends and can still support each other. I love being with you. We just need to be mindful of how the others see it.” You knew that space was needed. It was necessary, even as something inside you felt like it withered.

“Alright,” He relented, as you splashed your face with the cold water. “What are the boundaries?” He was leaving it to you to decide.

“We have to be the most careful while in the Night Court,” You started. “Physical contact in public should be reduced to linked arms when appropriate. Verbal greetings only. No more nights spent at the townhouse.” You tried to maintain eye contact with him and not let your eyes drift along the expanse of his still exposed body. As much as it scared you, you would have to brave being alone. 

“You and I both know that you sleep better with someone next to you,” He reasoned. “If I can't be there then at least…at least have Ruhn with you. I’m certain he’ll be willing to step in wherever I can’t.”

“He can’t always stay with me,” You informed him. “He has a battle for his own world that he is trying to fight. What am I supposed to do when he’s in Midgard? It terrifies me to think what would have happened that night.” The fact that you nearly walked right off the roof of the townhouse was a chilling thought.

“Then let’s ask Helion for assistance,” Lucien supplied. “Ask him to speak with Thesan. He’s the High Lord of the Dawn Court, a healer in his own right. Surely, he will have knowledge about other sleep or dream preventing tonics.” He raised his hand and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“That could work,” You quickly turned away from his gentle touch. Something deep in you screamed as you walked away and out of the bathroom.

“What do we do when we’re alone?” You tried to stop your heart, but it’s pounding filled your ears. Naturally he followed you, but it was a long while before he said anything else. He slowly got dressed, as did you. Anything to keep yourself occupied while you tried to think.

You didn’t know what to say. If there was nothing between you now, then there shouldn’t be any need to change what you did when alone. Except, being alone with him may only continue to fan the flames of rumors. You needed to do what you could to keep each other in your lives, even if that meant you couldn't touch him in the ways you wanted. Why did this feel like a breakup?

“It’s probably best that we remain consistent,” You watched as sadness flashed across his features."At least for now."

“As you wish.” 

Next- Chapter 10 (~ 7/12/24)

General Tag list: @loving-and-dreaming

BHIN Tag list: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie @fightmedraco @nikkitch0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion @randomness-it-is @thehighlordishere @rachelnicolee @hardcoremarvelfan @awkardnerd @sundayysunshine @jpgtae @cheneyq @morganwdarius

Crossed out names wouldn't let me tag you, or tag the correct blog.

[gowns]

from time to time i think about how people used to ask me for advice on this blog... i was young and still figuring things out, and i thought it was funny that people asked me for advice. but it's like: you open a conduit one way, and more things start flowing that way. so the asks kept coming in. people are very mimetic.

i feel Older and Wiser now, and might be able to give better advice, but more of my writing is private, my blogging more sporadic... (i am still an external processor in many ways, but at least i have close deep friendships, and i can process with them instead of on a blog.)

there came a point when people started to get weird with me -- the asks got more invasive, spiky, cagey. so i had to close down my inbox

it's open again, but maybe i've done a good job with setting boundaries with strangers, hahaha. there's no pile of messages waiting for me. tbh, i feel like most of the quandaries i used to get, now people could just make a throwaway account on reddit and make a post there. polling a large group of people seems to make more sense than just asking one writer; trying to account for subjectivity and the multiplicity of human behavior and thought...

--

outside of my own experience, i have thought a lot about the concept of "asking for advice"; the concept of "externally processing" (via blogging, therapy, talking to friends, publishing writing, etc etc); the more codified concept of an "advice column" and the wise "advice columnist." the advice column is kinda old-school at this point, and most of them today seem to exist as clickbait to drive people to the comment section, where everyone can put in their two cents on the letter writer and the competency of the advice-giver.

polling the audience. that's a modern thing, too -- quite recent that we could all conduct polls. like, legit, easy polls. when you want to find out people's opinions, and they'll easily give it to you if they don't have to talk or type, they just hit a button. hit this button if you like this food. hit this button if i'm right. if i'm not right, explain.

it's quick and to the point...

--

in "a field guide to getting lost," rebecca solnit brings up an interesting fact that people didn't used to get as lost as people get today. like, there's a lot more search and rescue expeditions today than there used to be. outside of population growth and etc, she said it's likely because of a few factors: people used to be more aware of their surroundings, and their schedules weren't as packed, so they had a slower pace of doing things. people could meander. they weren't worried, they'd find their way home eventually (and in the meantime, they knew more about the flora and fauna, what to eat, and so on). people who get lost today tend to freak out and get themselves more lost, or into more dangerous situations.

thinking about that in relation to the way that people relate to each other and communicate today... the idea of writing someone a letter for advice and waiting a few weeks to hear a response sounds useless. everyone needs an immediate response to everything.

on one hand, it's neat that i can get an immediate response to almost any query i have -- google, wikipedia, polling the audience, texting friends. I Am a Conduit for Information

on the other hand, if the immediate response is incorrect... or only a partial response... or nothing comes up... i tend to feel like a broken computer. come on! obtain the information! complete the task!

and there are many things which will not be easily answered and processed right away. there are a lot of things you have to sit and chew on. hold in your pocket for a while.

this is very frustrating

i just want the answers

--

ask / answer ask / answer ask / answer

answer a person's question, and they will be satisfied for only a moment. teach them how to ask and answer their own questions... and they will likely never be satisfied, but hey, it's good practice

we have to get lost and meander

[phoenix-eclipses]

Casting Love 0.4 -- Missing Details

Kenma woke up early. He wanted to get to the classroom as soon as possible so there weren't many people present when he decided who he'd awkwardly ask to be his partner for the semester. However, he underestimated his classmates' punctuality. When he arrived, there were at least 15 people already in the room, all of which were talking to someone.

Not wanting to awkwardly stand there, Kenma left the room and decided he'd go get something from a nearby vending machine before returning. He hoped by then someone else would be there who wouldn't be talking to other people. Once the drink dropped to where he could grab it, he walked back to the room.

As he entered the doorway, someone grabbed his arm.

"Hey! You're Kodzuken right? I'm a huge fan!" a girl stood behind him, still holding onto his arm. He nods his head, tugging his arm back to gain some personal space. "Oh! Are you in this class too? Do you want to be partners? That would be so cool!"

"Uhm.." Kenma stood there awkwardly. Sure, he had wanted to get someone to be his partner, but he didn't want to partner with someone who was clearly a fan.

"Sorry, I already have a partner." His eyes darted through the room, landing on one person who happened to be sitting alone and walked over to them. "This is my partner."

The girl frowned, clearly upset at the news but nodded her head and walked to another seat in the room. Kenma let out a sigh before looking at the person he had just announced as his partner. "Uhm... sorry if you already have a partner, I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Oh! I don't, don't worry. I'd gladly be partners with you, if you want, of course!"

"Please."

They let out a soft laugh before offering their hand out. "My name is YN, what's yours?"

"Kenma."

0.3 -- Masterlist -- 0.5

Notes

I'll be honest, part of me was so tempted to not make them be partners just to tease you all, but then I realized that would require me picking another character/making a character to be their partners and I'm lazy

This one was almost longer but I decided the next 5 I have aren't necessary for this to end and I also like the idea of it ending on their introductions with each other

Did Oikawa actually go to bed early? The world may never know

Taglist

@staygoldsquatchling02 @walllflowerrrsss @oyasumeii @rinnylvr @bi-bi-papillon @ris-krispie @madiexuberant @giocriedpower

Fill out this form to be added!

[skeleton-mischief]

UHIOUASSFHUIEWHDIO killer sans. Please.

I didn't know what exactly to put, but I brewed something up as some x reader! If you want some more Killer don't be afraid to ask for specifics! Thank you for being my mutual and for reblogging me for stuff, you're so cool. I hope you like the gift, I haven't written something about Killer before! Enjo

⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅

“What's the matter, doll? Do you not like it?”

He was cruel, or at least was supposed to be.

You felt his hand pressing against the small of your back as he pressed his cheek against your shoulder. You said nothing, your eyes dragging away to meet his sockets. You could see the faint white outline of what was his eyelight flickering, faltering.

You didn't have time to say anything as you were pulled off your feet, resting limp in his arms as he pulled you onto his lap. His phalanges traced around your tummy, rubbing them sweetly as he tilted his head with a wavering smile. You could tell that he was nervous.

What was in your hands was a stuffed animal, small and soft. A gift, he said, that reminded him of you. You felt your eyes water slightly as your fingers pressed into the cats cheeks, your lips parting. When was the last time you have been given a gift?

“Woah, hey, are you crying?” Killer's voice dragged your attention back to him as you looked at him. You could see the smears of black on his cheekbones seem faded as he must've wiped it away to keep the cat plush clean for you. He pulled out some tissues, something he always kept, and he handed it to you.

“I didn't think you'd cry! Did I do something wrong, doll?” “No,” your voice was shaky as you accepted the tissue, only barely using it before you promptly pressed your face against his chest. You could feel the way his bones stuttered beneath the weight momentarily, caught off guard.

“I-I really like it, thank you,” Your voice wavered as you pulled the stuffed animal to your chest, clinging onto it as you tried your best to hide your embarrassment. You didn't see his expression since you were hiding your own, but you felt his hands slowly wrapping around you as you felt the tension in his bones ebb away.

You heard the chuckle he let out as he nuzzled his face into your hair and felt the small spark of magic he must've used to kiss the top of your head. One of his hands trailed up to cup your cheek, squishing the warm flesh as he coaxed you to look up at him. “Thank the stars that you do, I would've had to kiss you better if you didn't,”

You snorted slightly, feeling him lean forward as he peppered your cheeks with small kisses. You felt that your face was dipped in warmth, flush as your teary eyes remained. “Then why are you kissing me now?” “Because I still plan to kiss you, is all,” He cooed mischievously, a smirk forming.

You wanted to throw a retort back at him, to joke about how he must really like kissing you to make so many excuses. However, you felt your eyes widen when he pressed a tender kiss against the softness of your lips. It wasn't his usual type of kiss, something so tender was reserved for a skeleton like him. You softened the same way he did as he pulled away, his thumb rubbing under your eyes as he wiped away a stray tear.

“You're evil,” “Guilty as charged,”

You couldn't tell that he was more nervous than he let on, even if the signs were subtly there. He was afraid you wouldn't like the gift, but seeing you get emotional just opened his mind to more possibilities. You're too sweet for him, he wants to just spoil you until you're just as rotten as he is. Instead, he said nothing about his plans, and he remained content with being able to just hold you as he felt your weight shifting to rely on him.

He liked when you relied on him.

[covenofthearticulate]

hiii idk if you’ve ever discussed this before but i’ve been thinking about louis and marius interacting all day and so i’d LOVE to hear your take on what you think their dynamic would be like! what do you think it would take to get louis to engage with him on a more intimate level?

NO KENZIE YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH I ADORE MARIUS AND LOUIS!!!!!

literally all my favorite quotes about Louis in canon come from that little bit in QOTD from Marius' POV! Like!!! I will never get over how IMMEDIATELY smitten they are with each other!!!

Like on the one hand we have: "Louis stood quite still looking at [Marius] as he had earlier, as though he were seeing a myth made real."

and then we see that the feeling is absolutely mutual with Marius: "He smiled at Louis. Something in the manner of this one made Marius happy, though he wasn't sure why."

I think their dynamic is just so especially interesting because they have so many connecting threads re: Lestat and Armand, so up until QOTD they really have this mythologized version of one another— to Louis, Marius is this grand figure with all the answers Louis had always been searching for, and someone who both deeply loved and deeply hurt some of Louis' closest companions. For Marius, Louis is this strange fledgling who had the audacity to expose these secrets he's kept hidden at his own expense for literal centuries. By all accounts there should be some tension there, or at the very least some awkwardness!

But just as Armand and Louis are sort of two sides of the same coin in a lot of ways, I think Louis is one of the only vampires who has an innate understanding of Marius' worldview. Louis is not the artist or philosopher or politician that Marius is, but he holds a lot of the same values. I mean— Louis is a textbook Libra for god's sake— he NEEDS order and balance in his life, and lord knows Marius is the only other person who prioritizes that as well!

So anyway this is all to say that I really don't think it would take much for Louis to want to engage with Marius on a more intimate level!

And like, I was talking to a friend about this the other day as well but I'd like to think that in their contemporary era, Louis could really be the pupil that Marius needs. Yes, Daniel's relationship with Marius is bittersweet and interesting and fun to play with, but I've always wanted to see who Marius is outside of being a caretaker, and I think Louis is just like the perfect middle ground where he doesn't need or want anyone doting on him or worrying over him, but he's still coming into his own in the new era, he's still finding himself, he needs a kind hand, someone to talk with about books and music and art and culture.

And on Marius' end, I think it would do him good to spend time with someone who is just so genuine. As much as Marius needs and wants his pupils to challenge him, I think he would really benefit from having someone who is willing to just listen and appreciate his philosophy (that's not to say that he and Louis wouldn't have disagreements— but even then I'm sure they hash it out Socratic Style and end up with enough intellectual stimulation to get them all giddy).

ANYWAY TL;DR: WE NEED MORE MARIUS & LOUIS CONTENT PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

[dysfunctional-doodle]

YPI PROJECT BEAT MY ASS AND I’M SUPER TIRED BUT THE TOO MANY TURTLES COMMENTARY GRIND NEVER STOPS ‼️‼️💯💯💯

betrayal…. (playing uno is 100% more worth your time than patrol, can confirm, best game ever, played a game with 20 people in a german exchange (but it was kinda quick since we only had one pack of cards and. well. 20 people))

HELL YEAH, WE’RE MAKING PROGRESS!!!!! (i have a feeling this might get a bit angsty…)

😭😭😭😭 (speech to text is really annoying i get the struggle)

y’know, of all the turtles to slander clothes, i didn’t think it’d be him

god noooo the feels 😭😭 (i never quite experienced the bad-teacher side of the neurodivergent experience (my physics teacher was crazy supportive despite the fact i never scored higher than a 40% in his class) but i would get a loooottttt of shit from classmates,,,,,,, sucks ass i feel for mm mikey)

gotta keep expanding your horizons!

ok but. of all the turtles………

love it when this happens

taking action! (also hold on 2012 mikey is an adult in his timeline???)

sighhhh i hope tech stays with the mikeys forever because their dynamiccccc 😭😭😭

not sure if i’m ready for the angst that is most likely coming our way. BUT i’m excited for it

Happy you liked my insane rambles again!

Referring to what you said about teachers, I have personally had some struggle throughout school with the way they teach things which I kind of use to write the issue mm mikey is having, very loosely. Though I don’t have a neurodivergency diagnosed (though a lot of people have kind of told me that I most definitely probably have big ADD or something similar rattling in the old noggin so idk) I learn much differently to what schools want. I am a very hands on learner, and really struggle with visual/auditory classes. It’s like being told how to write a good story but not actually doing it - I just tune out, or it is difficult to get it to “click” unless I explain it to myself in a weird way that actually makes much more sense to me. Once this “click” happens it’s great, I have no issues, but I have a lot of questions and thoughts that others don’t get prior to this point that I’ve unfortunately been disregarded for, as my teacher just didn’t want to explain and deemed me as stupid and needing extra classes because I didn’t learn in the same way. Not to brag but I’m pretty intelligent without even studying so this was a slap in the face for me.

So yeah, I kinda based at least some elements on this experience, though obviously a lot is also made up/fictionalised.

Wow that was a ramble

Anyway, you also mentioned Mikey’s age? I don’t think I’ve ever properly written down the ages outside of a discord I am in that talks about this fic, oops. In short, the timelines are not linear, but rather dotted around the place. A breakdown:

1987 are the ones where I’m not 100% sure on what to age them as, but I imagine around 17 - 19, all the same age

Rise boys are about 6 months - a year after the events of the movie

2012 are about 20 - 22, a few years after their final series (with Mikey being an extra 2 years ahead due to Dimension X)

2007 are what I believe are their cannon ages at 21? Takes place a few months after their 2007 movie (I also consider the 90s movies to be from the same universe due to the details present in 2007)

2003 are a few years after the crossover movie, making them the oldest at around 25 (Mikey being 24 due to him being a few months or so younger when they were sold)

Mutant mayhem boys are literally a couple of weeks after their movie

Bayverse boys are a year after their second movie

Hopefully that clears things up a little :)

[natashaslesbian]

Scarlett’s Here

Summary: Scarlett comfort you through an autistic meltdown

Word Count:

Pairings: (Scarlett x Teen!Reader)

Content: Autistic meltdown and traits (written from my personal experience with my own autism)

————

As soon as the director yelled ‘cut’ you were racing back to your trailer. It was all too much, too many people, too many lights, too many sounds. You usually had your autism under control on set, making a scene was the last thing you wanted to do, especially as no one knew. No one except for Scarlett. You’d been in the acting industry for a few years now, but this was your first major blockbuster film. Scarlett took an instant liking to you when you had met and straight away she felt very protective over you. It was 6 months into filming now, the process had been gruelling and the days were very long. It was last month when you finally cracked and broke down in Scarlett’s arms, it was then you told her about your autism and she was doing everything in her power to look out for you.

When you left the set in a hurry, Scarlett immediately followed you. She checked her trailer on the way to yours, sometimes you would take residence with her after a rough day. When she found the room empty, the blonde figured you had gone to your own trailer. Scarlett nocked gently on your door and after being answered with silence, she made her way inside. “Y/n” she whispered as she stepped into your trailer. “It’s just me, it’s Scarlett” she said walking through to your bedroom. The older actress quietly pushed open the door, her eyes landing on the heap underneath the covers. You were crying quietly when you heard Scarlett come in and you felt the bed dip as she sat down on the end. “Y/n I’m just gonna sit here until you’re alright, you don’t have to talk or do anything ok” Scarlett said softly.

You wanted so desperately for her to hold you, but at the same time you wanted her as far away as possible. You continued to cry for a few minuets under the weight of your duvet, your breath had made the space hot and dark, settling your senses over so slightly. You felt a change in your brain as you sat up and pulled the covers away, you kept your eyes closed but soon realised that Scarlett had already covered the windows allowing you to be comfortable in the space. “Hi sweetie” Scarlett whispered “I got you some water, do you want a sip?” She asked as she held out the bottle. You shook your head as you climbed across the bed to sit in Scarlett’s lap. She welcomed you with open arms and directed your head to lay across her chest. “There we go y/n” she said “nice and calm” she said as she ran her fingers through your hair.

The frustration of it all kicked in as you started to cry softly, you gripped onto Scarlett’s arm tightly, not knowing if you wanted her to go or stay. “You’re okay sweetie” she quietly said. You pulled yourself impossibly close to her as she shushed you softly “I’m here, Scarlett’s here” she cooed. Her voice was calming, it floated around the room so gently that you began to settle. Your skin was still on fire, it felt like it was inside out and you wanted to rip it away. You released Scarlett’s arm and began scratching your own “easy sweet girl” the blonde said as she wrapped her arms around you, closing your hands against her side and stoping you from scratching. You shuffled in annoyance but calmed slightly when Scarlett slotted her own hand into yours, allowing you to stim with her rings.

The two of you sat in silence for at least 20 minutes until you felt ready to speak again. “Did people notice?” You shyly asked “no darling, it’s all okay” Scarlett said. “It was just too much. I couldn’t do it” you cried quietly “I know y/n. It’s ok, no one is angry with you” Scarlett cooed as she rubbed up and down your back. “I couldn’t even make it through the day and now we have to go back, how am I gonna do this?” You asked through your tears. “We’ll figure it out y/n, I promise” Scarlett said “and I told everyone I have a migraine, we’re done filming for the day” she continued. “You did? We are” You gazed up at her, she nodded in response. “Why did you do that?” You asked “because I care about you” the blonde answered “you shouldn’t have to be put into a situation that’s uncomfortable for you, and you shouldn’t have to hide who you are. But I know you’re not ready to let other people know, so I’ll have a migraine anytime you need me too” Scarlett said.

You smiled widely up at her, no one had ever cared for you the way she did. “Thank you” you whispered as you snuggled into her. Scarlett laid a soft kiss on your forehead, her way of saying ‘you’re welcome’. She continued to hold you close until the events of the day finally caused you to fall into a comfortable sleep. Scarlett decided that while you napped she would order your favourite take out, knowing it was definitely going to cheer you up. She was quiet on the phone so she didn’t wake you and you continued to sleep in her embrace, knowing you were safe and protected.

————

Taglist<3

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904 / @nevaeh-daughterofvalcarol