#only to find them on the side of your enemy

[cameronspecial]

omg please write, enemy!rafe texting reader about something, and then he just starts flirting with her but she’s just bitchy back, and he’s like “see you later” or something like that

Let Me Fix This, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and Toxic Rafe

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Masterlist

Rafe’s rules weren’t normally a probably and Y/N understood he created them so that they could have a healthy relationship and she was safe. However, at this moment, she can’t because he is going too far. “I turned it off by accident, Rafe. I don’t know how it happened, but it wasn’t on purpose,” she grits through her teeth. His eyes narrow as he holds her phone up to her, “That’s literally impossible. You have to go through so many steps to turn it off. You intended to do it!” She cowers back at the harshness of his words. He hasn’t spoken to her like this since their first fight. Since then, whenever he felt his volume rising, he would leave the room to calm down. “It was an accident!” she argues. Anger takes him over. Before he can control himself, he throws her phone across the room and the smashing of glass against the wall has her turning to see her broken for on the floor. She looks back at him and shrinks away from him. The fear in her eyes makes him instantly regret what he did. It tears his heart apart. 

“You crossed a fucking line and I don’t think I can handle this side of you anymore.”

He freezes as she grabs her purse and storms out of the room. Once she’s out of the room, the reality of her words sets in. He runs after her, “Angel, wait. I’m so sorry.” He doesn’t find her in the hallway and he rushes down the stairs to see if he can catch up to her. “She’s gone, Dude. Kelce is giving her a ride,” Topper announces from behind him. Rafe’s fingers go through his hair and he pulls, “Shit.” He totally fucked up. And he doesn’t know what he is going to do if he can’t get her back. 

———

He blocked her. He knows she did because the texts don’t show as being seen or even as delivered. It’s only been three hours but it has been the longest they haven’t talked and he is getting seriously concerned that they aren’t together anymore. He finally thinks he has figured out what to do. His knuckles wrap against her dorm door. He takes a deep breath, nervous she won’t open the door. His hand, not holding the bag and flowers, fidgets with his sleeve. The door swings open and her familiar scent fills his nostril. “What the fuck are you doing here? I thought I made it clear what I think we are,” she grumbles, trying to close the door in his face. He drops to his knees and this bars the door from shutting. His hands clasp in a plea, “Please, let me fix this, Angel. I can’t live with myself if this is where we end.” She shouldn’t. What happened early today was a red flag and she wouldn’t want to be someone who ignores those. Yet, something in her knew that even if she was scared at that moment, she should at least hear him out. 

“Fine, you have three minutes,” she orders, stepping back so he can enter her room. He rushes to his feet and he resists the urge to pepper her with kisses. He hands her the flowers, pulling out the phone box from the bag. He hands both to her. “These are for you. I’m sorry I broke your phone,” he apologizes. She takes them both and sets them on the table with a mumbled thanks. 

“Is that all you are going to say?” she prods. His head shakes vehemently, “No. No. No. Honestly, it’s only the start of a thirty-hour speech I made in my head. I’ll shorten it for your sake though.” She flicks her chin to get him to keep going. 

“There isn’t an excuse for how I reacted today. I let out a side of myself that I never wanted to be directed toward you and I will regret it for the rest of your life. I never should’ve thrown your phone or yelled at you. I let my insecurities and my worry get the best of me and it clouded my judgement. I know it was an accident, Angel. I should’ve believed you when you said it. I just get so anxious when I can’t be there to protect you because you are my whole life. And… And…”

Tears are formed in his eyes and his voice is breaking. She doesn’t need him to finish the sentence to know where it is going. They’ve never really needed words to communicate how they feel. Her need to comfort him overpowers her and she steps into his reach, wrapping her arms around him. He buries his head into her neck. His tears stain her skin. “Shh, it’s okay. You don’t need to finish. I understand and I forgive you. I couldn’t live with myself if I lost you,” she admits, running her hand through his hair. “Don’t misunderstand me though. Pull a stunt like that again and you won’t ever see me again.” His lips press against her skin. “I’d never dream of it.” 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

[archangeldyke-all]

rough sex with cowboy sevi after an argument 🫣🫣

i miss cowboy sev

i was just thinking about cowboy sevika omg

men and minors dni

the bar's been suspiciously quiet this evening.

you put the girls to bed around eight like you've been making a habit of doing: you read somewhere once that giving kids a steady schedule makes them feel secure. you don't know if it's true, you've only been doing this parenting shit for a year, but you and sevika are trying your best.

still. despite their usual bedtime, both girls are restless sleepers. most nights, one or both of them will make several trips down from their room in the inn upstairs to sit at the bar for a while, watching you work and entertaining the locals who've come by for a drink.

tonight, you haven't heard a peep from either.

and most nights, after the girls finally settle down and all your patrons either head up to their rooms or stroll home, sevika will finish her share of the night-chores and then meet you in the bar. it's your nightly tradition: you pour her a whiskey, make yourself whatever you're in the mood for, and the two of you sit side by side, chatting and laughing and occasionally slow-dancing in the moonlight to the sound of sevika humming a tune.

but tonight, sevika doesn't come find you.

you do a final sweep of the floor, wipe off the bar one last time, and take off to find your wife-- assuming she's fallen asleep somewhere or is in the girls' room.

only, as you climb the stairs to the second floor, you realize that the linen closet at the end of the hall hasn't been replenished with fresh towels and sheets for tomorrow's guests. you pause, looking out the window and huffing at the sight of the sheets blowing on the line in the night breeze.

stomping back down the stairs, you march outside and snatch the linens off the line. on your way back inside-- you realize the chicken's coop is still open. you groan as you climb into their pen and close up the coop, careful not to let the bundle of sheets in your arms touch the shitty, hay covered ground.

these are sevika's chores. this is the shit she's supposed to be doing all night while you're taking care of the customers. tonight, it seems, she's decided that you can take care of it all.

you expect to find sevika in bed, you're a little worried she might have a fever or something. she's usually so good about doing all her chores-- the only time she doesn't is when she's sick or the kids are bugging her.

but, after twenty minutes of folding and stacking the laundry and a quick check in on the girls, you get to your room only to find it empty.

your heart sinks. you stumble out of your room and down the stairs, checking the girls' room again-- thinking maybe your eyes had missed sevika slumped to sleep in the reading chair or one of the girl's bed on your first check.

but when you push open the door and take a real good look around the room, you nearly shit yourself when you realize that the twin lumps in vi's bed aren't your kids: they're a lump of pillows with the comforter on top.

your mind starts to go a mile a minute. there's no way something's happened to your family... right? there were people here all night, someone would've said something if they saw sevika or the girls in trouble.

but then... where are they?

as you descend to the main floor, you start to choke with panic.

sevika's got a shady past and a whole lot of enemies-- people who are willing to do evil things in the name of revenge.

and you still haven't figured out what really happened with the girl's birth-parents. for all you know: they could've been killed because they were in some kinda trouble themselves-- there could be people out there you don't even know about looking to hurt violet and powder.

you're on the verge of tears by the time you reach shimmer's stable.

but when the sound of giggles and whinnying reach your ears, relief floods your body.

you pull open the stable door with a slam, glaring at sevika where she's helping the girls off shimmer's back. three pairs of guilty eyes snap up to look at you, and sevika whispers a 'fuck' under her breath. violet muffles giggles at the curse.

"where the fuck have you three been!?" you cry.

powder springs off of shimmer's back-- fearless of the fact that she falls a distance twice as tall as her tiny body, and runs up to hug your legs, defaulting into puppy-eyes as her defense. "don't be mad." she pouts, blinking up at you.

"i couldn't sleep, so sevika took us out to see the stars." violet cuts in as she cautiously jumps down from shimmer's back to wrap her arms around your waist. "we thought you wouldn't notice..." she says guiltly, rubbing the back of her neck.

the anger and panic in your body leaves momentarily. you can't be mad at the kids-- not when they're so fucking cute. you roll your eyes at their pouts, then ruffle their heads and nod your head toward the inn.

"go wash up and get in bed. y'all better be sleepin' by the time i come in." you threaten, kissing both their heads and gently pushing them out of the stable. violet jumps up to kiss your cheek, then takes powder's hand and drags her out of the stable: aware that sevika's in the doghouse and not wanting to catch any stray punishments.

you turn your loving gaze away from the kids, the anger in you picking back up as you glare at your wife. sevika shrinks on herself.

"sevika, what the fuck!?" you shout. she cringes and sighs.

"i'm s--"

"i thought something bad happened sev. i come up to bed and my wife's not there-- then i check on my kids and they're fucking pillows under the blankets-- sevika, i thought--"

"darlin', i'm so sorry." she cuts you off, reaching forward and trying to touch you. you smack her hand away, snarling at her. "i thought we'd be back way sooner! we got distracted-- there were so many shootin' stars tonight-- it musta been a meteor shower or som--"

"sevika!" you cut her off. she cringes again. you smack her shoulder, then turn around to storm back inside.

"where're you goin?!" sevika calls after you as you walk out of the stable.

"inside!"

"i'm not done putting shimmer to bed!" sevika says, reaching out and grabbing your wrist.

"i don't give a fuck, sevika--"

"well i do!" she cries. she spins you around in her arms, her grip on your upper arms strong and solid. you couldn't squirm away if you tried. "i'm not lettin' you go to bed mad at me, baby, i'm not breakin' our wedding vows. so come back to the stable while i finish up with shimmer, and you can scold me all you want."

your nostrils flare a bit, and sevika raises an eyebrow at you. you're simultaneously furious and touched-- sevika's sweet words making you fall all the more in love with her even though you wish you could smack her right now. eventually, you sigh. "fine."

sevika tries to bite back her smirk, but you still elbow her ribs anyways-- seeing the way her lips twitch at the corner as she guides you back to the stable with a hand on the small of your back.

you push her off of you when you're back inside the stable, not yet ready to give up being mad at her and knowing you'll be putty in her hands if she keeps touching you. "sevika, do you know how fuckin' scared i was?" you whisper.

sevika sighs, hanging her head as she walks toward her mare. "i'm sorry. really. i didn't even think how spooked you'd be if you caught us-- i didn't think you'd catch us at all!" she defends.

you scoff an exasperated laugh. "just-- next time you fucking kidnap the kids, leave me a note?" you ask.

sevika huffs, pulling the saddle off of shimmer's back and shooting you a little glare. "it's not kidnapping to take my own kids out." she grunts. you roll your eyes.

"you know my point--"

"--and maybe, if you let them ride with me in the first place i wouldn't have to sneak 'em out!" she shouts.

you groan. "oh, for fuck's sake sevika, not this shit again."

"they need to learn!"

"they're too fuckin' small to even get on the horse!" you cry. "they're babies sevika, you don't put a baby on the back of a wild animal!"

"shimmer is not a wild animal!" sevika shouts, stepping into your space, backing you against the wall with her glare. "and i'd been riding for years by the time i was their age! you're just scared about the horse 'cause you can't ride."

"you left the fuckin' linens out!"

sevika falters, her glower cracking for a moment as a smile pulls at her lips. you try to ignore the urge to giggle at the way sevika's lips twitch-- you want to be mad goddammit-- but you let a little huff of laughter out despite yourself.

"that's what this is all about, huh?" sevika teases, tentatively. "mad you had to do the laundry?"

"fuck off-- i'm mad because--"

"take your fucking shirt off." sevika grunts.

it's your turn to falter, blinking up at your wife in surprise. her gaze is hot and heavy, her tongue darts out to lick her lower lip as her eyes catch on your own mouth. you gulp.

"w-what?" you squeak.

she smirks, then reaches out to cup your face, ducking down to gently kiss your jaw, your neck, your shoulder. you gulp. "i really am sorry, darlin'." she drawls, nipping your earlobe. "i didn't wanna scare you. just wanted to do somethin' special for 'em."

you relax a bit into her touch, then shove her away. sevika stumbles backwards and lands in a haybale, blinking up at you in shock. you smirk down at her. "you're cute." you say. sevika gulps. "but if you're gonna try 'n talk you way outta this one, i got a much better place for your mouth."

sevika whimpers, and then she's clawing at your hips, getting your lower half bare while she simultaneously tries to pull you up to straddle her face. you chuckle above her, shuffling a bit as you remove your garments, then sinking your fingers into her hair.

she looks ravenous. her eyes are locked on your cunt, her tongue licking her lips as she squirms beneath you, anxiously waiting for you to sink down onto her mouth.

"say it again." you demand. sevika blinks up at you, confused.

"say what?"

"apologize."

sevika grins. "i'm so sor--mpf--" you chuckle as you sink down onto her mouth, cutting her off mid sentence. her eyes roll back in her head, and her fingernails sink into your hips as she moans against your cunt.

you pull up for just a moment, watching her gasp for air beneath you and giggling. "what was that, baby?" you ask.

sevika's responding grin is dazzling. in the back of your mind, it occurs to you that this is probably not a very effective punishment for your wife-- if anything you might be giving her incentive to piss you off even more. "i'm sorry, darlin'." sevika repeats, blinking her eyelashes at you. you giggle. oh, well, you think as you sink back down onto her mouth.

sevika's tongue is devious, you have to bite the back of your hand to keep from screaming and waking up all your inn-guests just a few yards away.

"shit-- you know i hate folding the sheets." you grunt as you grind against her face. she laughs against your cunt. "i got chickenshit all over my good shoes closin' the coop, too-- fuck, baby, just like that." you whine.

one of sevika's hands sneaks up from your waist to start palming your tits under your shirt. you groan.

beside you, shimmer makes a little grunt, like she's disgusted. sevika just flips her horse off before putting her hand right back on your tits.

you burst into giggles, on the brink of cumming and worked up from the spat you'd just been in, and then sigh. "fuck, i love you, sevika."sevika groans underneath you, shivering and shaking, and when you realize she's cum in her pants, you fall apart on top of her. "i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, baby, fuck!" you cry.

you're not sure how long you grind your hips against your wife's mouth as you chase your orgasm, but eventually she pushes you away and takes a big gulp of air-- so you assume it was long enough to suffocate her.

still, she looks pretty happy about almost being killed underneath you.

you laugh down at her, then crawl down her body to press your lips to hers, licking the taste of you from her tongue. she hums against you, her hands groping your bare ass as you lazily kiss.

"how much d'ya wanna bet you woke up a guest?" she asks.

you groan, hiding your face against her throat in embarrassment. "i wasn't that loud, was i?"

"sev! sev! sev, i love you, you're so good, you're the best wife in the world--" you shove your hand against her lips, cutting off her horrible impression of your own voice.

"i do not sound like that!" you squeal.

sevika smacks your ass as she laughs. you smile at the sound, pressing kisses agianst her throat as you both catch your breath.

"thank you." you mumble eventually. sevika picks her head up from the hay bale to stare down at you like you're crazy. you laugh.

"for scarin' the shit outta you?" she asks. you giggle.

"no, jackass. for makin' us fight it out-- makin' sure we didn't go to bed angry. fuckin' me so well." you list off. sevika snorts, and presses a firm kiss to your head.

"'s my pleasure, darlin'."

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352 @artinvain

[itsoka-y]

Alright chat is time to ask the real questions here and by real questions I mean who of these kids is chronically online and what flavor of chronically online are they. I bring forth some of my choices (plus a few headcanons)

I just know she ran a Tumblr account like the navy during the golden years where Superwholock reigned supreme I just can feel it in my bones. She also strikes me as someone who enjoys a bit of a conspiracy but she'll have an alternate account for that (and also I think this was a phase for her to develope her writing and journalism skills through her posts even though she was kinda pulling some things out of her ass sometimes but then again she was 13)

Kinda self-explanatory if not even canon. He'd be one of those annoying ass otakus who try to gatekeep fucking naruto of all things because if you cannot name the sharingan Sasuke used in episode 234 then you're not a real fan.

(i have not watched a single episode of Naruto and it shows i'm sorry)

He's also a misogynist and would engage in discourse with any fujoshi that crosses his timeline because why you forcing Naruto and Sasuke to be gay?

Unrelated but this is like my favorite picture of him of all time i'm afraid he's the only man i'll choose over a bear

My favorite headcanon is that he's the wildest card you'll ever cross paths with in your life. Like you see him from afar and you kinda get a feel for what he's going to be like (shy, polite bordering on coy, reserved etc. etc.) but then you get to meet and sure it's not like he's outregous or anything but him cracking a galvinazed steel and eco-friendly wood venneer joke or him sending one of those alpha images of an anthropomorphic wolf ripping its shirt would have never crossed your mind. And he has such a wide range as well; one day he's referencing world is mine by hatsune miku the next day you hear him quote breaking bad (someone cooked here) after someone scores a goal with a new hissatsu technique. He definitely knows what the omegaverse is

He really is oomf

Queen of tiktok. She'd be one of those younger gen z kids/older gen alpha that kinda romanticizes being a fangirl during the 2010s and feels nostalgia for it even if she never lived through those years. She also dabbles into some of the booktok territory, but I don't see her as those who only care for books based on "spicyness" but one of them "you like enemies to lovers because you want to believe that someone will fall in love with you even after seeing the ugliest parts first" kinda gals

When he's not training or working to support his little siblings, you bet your ass he's on facebook. He shows you memes that were relevant like two or three whole years ago but you don't have the heart to tell him so you just awkwardly laugh, reinforcing the cycle (the only ones who'd genuinely find them funny would be Tsunami but that's only because he's chronically offline)

He's so out of the loop and let's pray to god It stays that way. Bless his little soul

Hear me out. Terrible case of ipad kid even if he got out of it. I mean, he was playing to recreate the fire tornado when he was five years old and I like to imagine him as that one scene of little deku asking his mom to play on the computer the video of all might saving people but it's him pestering yuuichi to play him a compilation of all of Gouenji's hissatsu techniques. I find it adorable thank you very much. He's still lurking somewhere on twitter with his private account (he has 0 followers and he'd like for it to keep being that way) where he just vents about his life and feelings (look he's gone through so much and he needs a place to let it all out ok?) and retweets stuff from other emo kids online. I also know his spotify playlists are curated to perfection

As any child with a troubled home life, he copes by being an absolute MENACE online. He for sure has told people to off themselves at some point. Has sided with Drake during this years beef with Kendrick Lamar for the hell of it (doesn't even listen to the guy's music). Thank god the FFI wasn't running digital footprints' checks way back when because his ass would not have made the call into the team because of it. Got tamer as an adult and realized how fucked up some of the shit he was doing and saying was but has still gotten into trouble for some of his old tweets (he's definitely ruffled some feathers for quite a few football fans online and is quite the controversial character, you either love him or hate him i fear)

Same as Fudou but whereas Fudou was trolling through the league of Legends chat and on call of duty lobbies this one was trolling on fortnite. Maybe even roblox

And that would be it. Feel free to add as many other characters as you feel like because this is so fun to do and I want to see someone else's takes to this kinda thing 🫣

[mae-i-scribble]

Seeing that one reblog of yours about the manhwa I Became The Male Lead's Adopted Daughter really intrigued me! Is it a good one? 👀

Funny story about that, after your reblog brought the post to my attention again and after talking with a friend on discord about stories that subvert tropes I just went back and reread that entire manhwa up to the end of season 2 so this is great timing XD. Im summary: It's absolutely worth your time if you're a fan of father/isekaied daughter fantasy, if you're an isekai manhwa fan in general, or if you just want a well made fantasy father daughter story. Its fantastical concepts are handled with a grounded maturity that most stories in the same genre just don't manage to pull off because it takes the time to truly flesh out its characters as human being first and any tropes last.

The long story is below the cut, I'll be discussing vague spoilers throughout seasons 1 and 2. (side note, im using the official TL names for this bc i like em better)

I Became the Male Lead's daughter has a lot going for it, first of which being Pelliot, the cold duke of the north who adopts Lionia from the orphanage. Most manhwa of this nature have the isekaied person be our main pov with brief glimpses into the parent's perspective, usually done more for plots sake or to comment on how strange the isekaied child is acting. Pelliot shares the protagonist spotlight with Lionia because this story is about both of them concurrently- in fact, we don't even get a look int Lionia's head to find out she's been isekaied until chapter 8(i think, either way its after chapter 5). Before that we get to know her from how Pelliot and the people at the estate see her. Which is such a refreshing take for me, especially when you consider that Pelliot while a stereotypical "violent and competent northern duke who becomes a parent" in theory, is actually played out in a grounded way. The reason he even wanted a child is because he's feeling lonely and he sees how his best friend (yes!! our cold duke has friendships!! and they're super sweet!!) is so happy with 2 children, that he goes about getting a child in the most pragmatic way possible. He is violent and regularly commits war crimes, but he isn't cruel to his staff or his knights as is standard fair for these archetypes. (Can't say the manhwa avoids classist tropes, but such is the way when you have noble protagonists and don't want to make them look complicit in a degrading class system but overall things are handled well enough in that regard). Pelliot, in his fatherhood, also avoids falling into trope traps yet again by being a very believable first time parent. He struggles to adjust to Lionia's emotional needs but is learning, he goes to his knights for advice, he's studying Lionia and trying to make sure she gets a proper childhood and does his best to protect her from further exposure to violence beyond what happens with the abusive orphanage staff. They have a believable banter and play off each other to a scary degree, and while he loves her and worries for her he isn't an overbearing protective trope either. I feel like this is already too long but like. He's such a cool protag to have in a genre that tends to have very narrow and singular dynamics of parent/child relationships. And this isn't even talking about the other relationships we see him have with his peers which are just as good.

Moving onto our other protagonist, Lionia, the post made by @living-as-the-enemy-prince HERE (which clearly you have read but in case other curious souls want to look at it) sums a large part of what makes her work. This is a story that fully realizes its concept to the most effective degree. And I love in turn the story addresses the trauma that comes with being reincarnated- not only from a "i miss my home and family and friends" but from the inherent trauma of being an adult only to one day become a child. Lionia didn't get a chance to rest, she was thrown into a life of abuse, all her agency stolen from her, forced to look after the other orphans because she was the only one who could thus she felt responsible. That sort of disruptive event isn't something that can be brushed off, and it shows in the way Lionia is deeply insecure about her relationship to Pelliot. In this way their dynamic is made equivalent from both sides- in many stories its almost one sided, with the parent figuring out this relationship naturally and the isekaied child playing things 'for the story' and only recognizing the relationship theyve built later (thank you wmmap for helping solidify that -_-). It's truly so well thought out and every aspect of the central relationship feels so natural.

As for the story at large, I'm very excited to see what the plot has in store. As of season 2 of the manhwa, we're only just starting to kick things off plot wise, up until now its been far more concerned with relationship building and giving us a foundation on these characters. But things are definitely cooking now that we've heard mention Baria- the protagonist of the novel Lionia read in her past life (I could probably write another blurb about how well that is being handled but this post is so long already so). On that note though, don't be worried about that "oh but i have to follow the original plot against all common sense and reason" trope bc that doesn't matter at all here. Lionia has her concerns when it comes to the story, some of her insecurities stem from the fact that Pelliot never had a daughter in it, mentioned or otherwise, but at the end of the day she doesn't give a shit, she just wants her dad to have a happy and peaceful life.

Tbh anyone who hasn't read this should absolutely give it a chance bc I haven't even mentioned half the things I find cool about it like all the side characters that I love or the empress storyline that I am eyeing with extreme interest, etc etc

[electrikworm]

Thanks for the request @sadiecoocoo! Hope you like it :)

Fallen brother

Relationships: Hunter & Wrecker

Content Warnings: Blood and Injury, Needles

Summary:

Wrecker's fear of heights have taken a turn for the worse since Tech's death. When he freezes up during a mission, he and Hunter end up having a conversation about it.

Word count: 1,588

Read on Ao3

Work Text:

Of course this would turn out to be another dead end. Wrecker huffs as he turns back to shoot at their pursuers. All it's netted them is another band of criminals wanting them dead, and brought them no step closer to finding Omega or Crosshair.

Wrecker almost runs into Hunter as he stops dead in his tracks. “What are you doing?”

Hunter gestures forwards to the narrow walkway they've come across. A good ten meter drop to the warehouse floor lies beneath it. “A way around would take too long. Can you handle it?”

Wrecker scoffs, firing further shots at the enemies behind them. “Of course I can handle it.” They've crossed worse drops, and Wrecker can pull himself together if his siblings lives depend on it. And Crosshair and Omega's lives depended on everything they do to find them.

He makes it halfway across the walkway before he looks down. It shouldn't be a problem, it really shouldn't. He's gotten better with heights over the years. But suddenly, Wrecker's breath catches in his throat and his body feels heavier than lead. He feels sick, can't seem to get any air into his lungs.

All he can think of is Tech, falling, falling to a death Wrecker failed to prevent. Wrecker grips the railing in front of him, distantly aware of a metallic clang that accompanies the action. The awareness of his surroundings start to dull as all Wrecker can see is his brother, separated by the broken half of the rail cart, hanging above a drop Wrecker was too slow to save him from.

Pain erupts somewhere along his right side. Wrecker can't bring himself to care. It's loud, but Wrecker can barely hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears and the erratic way he's breathing.

Time seems to slow as Wrecker relives that awful moment. How long has he been standing there? Minutes, hours? Wrecker can't remember why he's there in the first place.

Something grabs Wrecker's arm, pulling him to the side forcefully. He lets himself be dragged, and when something is shoved into his arms, he takes it without objection. Wrecker gets his eyes to focus on the back of the head, or rather helmet, of the person dragging him.

That's right, he's with Hunter. He trusts Hunter. Wrecker lets his brother guide him where ever he wants to. He knows Hunter won't lead him the wrong way.

Pulling Wrecker into the Marauder and forcing him to sit, Hunter quickly gets the ship off planet.

The mission had gone to osik enough without Wrecker having a shut-down mid fight. They can't afford slip ups like this, not when Omega's life and safety is on the line. Hunter's about to storm back to where he left Wrecker, but takes a moment to breath. As annoyed as Hunter is, taking that frustration out on his little brother isn't fair. Hunter knows Wrecker's scared of heights, it's not like this came completely out of the blue.

Still, Wrecker hasn't been this bad in ages, if ever. He just froze up, even dropped his blaster onto the walkway. Hunter shakes his head. Of all the days, Wrecker could have hardly picked a worse one to have such an intense reaction to his fear.

Hunter sighs. He can't hide in the cockpit forever, if only because Wrecker got shot and needs to be treated. Doing his best to push his anger aside, Hunter retrieves their medkit and rejoins his vod. Wrecker hasn't moved.

“Get those off.” Hunter orders, tapping Wrecker's helmet and backplate respectively. “I need to take a look at your back.”

When Wrecker pulls his helmet off, the last bit of frustration in Hunter's chest dissipates. Guilt twists his little brother's face, Wrecker no doubt already beating himself up internally about the situation. The backplate and breastplate come off together. Hunter sits down behind Wrecker, helping him ease his shirt off.

A patchwork of older and newer injuries are exposed as the clothing item is removed. Hunter sighs. There's a reason their medkit weighs barely anything right now. The two of them have been going through medical supplies faster than ever. They'll have to restock soon, but Hunter worries they might not have the credits to do so.

Hunter pulls on sterile gloves before inspecting the newest injury his vod sustained. The blaster wound is right near Wrecker's right shoulder blade, and the cauterization from the shot has already been torn through by movement. Blood trickles down Wrecker's back. Hunter wipes some of it away.

“You need stitches.” Hunter says. They've ran out of any sort of numbing agent weeks ago, so Hunter's words serve as a warning. Wrecker will know the pain he's in for from that warning alone. Wrecker just nods. Hunter guesses it's the guilt he feels that stops him from complaining about the needle involved in the process. “You're going have to tell me what the kark happened back there.”

Wrecker shrugs. Hunter shakes his head as he lines the needle up with the edge of the injury. Blaster wounds are never fun to stitch. But Wrecker barely flinches as Hunter starts working.

“What made this time worse than other times you've been high up?” Hunter tries again. He's gotten better at saying the right thing since they picked up Omega, but it's far from being one of his skills. Wrecker says nothing, but the next time Hunter pulls the needle through his skin, he makes a noise dangerously close to a sob.

Hunter immediately stops. “Osik, did I hit a nerve?” Another thing Hunter had never been the best at is giving stitches. Wrecker shakes his head, followed by what is definitively a sob. “Wrecker?”

Hunter can smell the tears before he can see them. He awkwardly tries to get a look at his brother's face without pulling on the unfinished stitches on Wrecker's back. Wrecker's face is twisted by pain as he cries.

Hunter feels at a loss for words. What brought this on? Wrecker's been stable and in control this whole time. If Hunter's honest, Wrecker's the only reason he hasn't fallen apparat entirely himself. Hunter doesn't know what to do.

“Wrecker?” He asks again. Hunter quickly begins the next stitch on the wound, but leaves the needle in the skin. Hardly comfortable for Wrecker, but Hunter can't think of a better way to secure the half-finished first-aid attempt. He removes the bloody gloves before crouching in front of Wrecker. The large clone seems to look right past him. Hunter puts a hand on Wrecker's arm, taking care to be gentle.

“I couldn't stop seeing him.” Wrecker forces out between sobs.

“Wrecker?”

“Tech. I kept seeing him falling.” Wrecker's inhaling in short gasps by now, turning his face away from Hunter. The fresh reminder of their fallen brother intensifies the constant ache in Hunter's chest.

“Breath, kih'vod.” Hunter says, trying his best to remain calm for his brother. He runs his hand along Wrecker's arm.

“It's my fault.” Wrecker's voice sounds so small, faltering around those words. Hunter sits next to Wrecker and pulls him into a hug, not really knowing any other way to ease his brother's anguish.

“It's not. It could never be.” Hunter speaks softly as Wrecker cries, face buries in Hunter's neck. Hunter had never considered blaming Wrecker for Tech's death, hadn't considered that Wrecker would blame himself either. If anyone is to blame, it's Hunter. He's the leader, or was during the war at least, so he should have slammed the breaks on the risky mission. Taking care to avoid the needle still in his brother's back, Hunter tightens his grip on Wrecker.

“Should have done something to save him...” Wrecker mumbles. The tears are still flowing freely, but his breathing is a little more consistent.

“Listen to me Wrecker.” Hunter's aware that tears have started rolling down his own face as well. “If you had enacted plan 99 and died, would you want any of us to blame ourselves for not stopping you?”

Wrecker pauses for a moment, inhaling shakily, before shaking his head.

“See?” Hunter fights against how his voice threatens to crack. “Tech knew what he was doing, knew the risks. We all did.”

The next sob that tears itself from Wrecker's throat hits Hunter hard, and he losses the fight to keep back one of his own. “I miss him so much, Hunter.” Wrecker says weakly.

“I do too.” Hunter barely manages to force out, pressing his cheek to his brother's head.

It takes a long while for either of them to calm down. When they do, Hunter's face hurts and his throat feels raw. He doubts Wrecker feels any better. Hunter finishes off tending to Wrecker's injury, and they both end up on the sleeping rack, Wrecker's head resting in Hunter's lap.

Wrecker falls asleep fast, the emotions of their tearful conversation having worn him out. He looks pained even in his sleep. Hunter frowns. The last few weeks have been terrible, full to the brim with stress and pain with barely any successes or moments of peace. Wrecker won't stop blaming himself for Tech's death just because of one conversation, Hunter knows that. He's not been the best brother since Eriadu, has he? He should have noticed that something's been eating at Wrecker.

Hunter sighs, carefully putting his hand on Wrecker's. He'll have to keep a better eye on him from now on. The last thing Hunter wants is to watch another of his little brothers die.

[iamnmbr3]

I love your meta but it's gotten to the point for me that when I read fics and Harry says something like "He's a disgusting Death Eater" I'm like- Nope, not in character. Harry? No. 1 Draco Malfoy apologist Harry? Unrealistic, I can't.

Thank you so much! That's really nice of you to say! And lol saaaaame. I mean don't get me wrong. I love some bitter 'both-these-characters-have-literally-tried-to-kill-each-other' enemies to lovers but that's not drarry (as their dynamic is portrayed in canon). And I think that's fascinating because they should hate each other a lot more than they do but they just can never bring themselves to. I just find it so striking how little real violence there is between them despite their very intense rivalry evolving into them literally being soldiers on opposite sides of a war. And how they just can't bring themselves to really truly hurt each other the way you'd expect and how they both always risk everything to save each other even when they should have no reason to.

Personally I think that's more interesting than them just disliking and distrusting each other. Because yes there is rivalry and bad blood and hostility but there's so much more than that and that fascinating push and pull is what makes their interactions so interesting to me.

I mean, canonically by the end of book 6 Harry has shifted into full-on worrying about Draco. And he keeps worrying about him all through book 7. (Not to mention saving his life and being saved in return by Draco at the Manor). This is wild. Draco is a Death Eater. Draco let other Death Eaters into the school. Draco almost got Katie and Ron - 2 friends of Harry's - killed. Draco is indirectly responsible for Bill's face getting ripped off. He also seemingly contributed to Dumbledore's apparent murder by disarming him and leaving him vulnerable.

But Harry doesn't hate him. He understands that Draco has changed his mind and doesn't want to be doing what he's doing anymore and has realized the folly of the side he's chosen (but tragically too late). He pities him. He worries about him. He doesn't despise or blame him. He even apparently conceals Dracos's crimes from magical law enforcement and blames everything on Snape.

Given this, I always personally find it a bit jarring when canon compliant fics have Harry go too overboard with the whole "omg he was a Death Eater" angle because it doesn't fit with his actions in canon. I mean after he walks in on Draco crying in book 6 and saying some hugely incriminating things Harry's reaction is to completely back off - simply because his investigation is putting Draco in danger. Even though Draco is pretty clearly a potential danger to others. And by the end of book 6 he's even more sympathetic to him after seeing Draco's change of heart. In book 7 he's viscerally horrified by seeing Draco forced to torture Rowle and the thing that motivates him to block out his connection to Voldemort for the first time is not wanting to see Draco tortured after the escape from the Manor. And he thinks about him quite frequently. And he even puts not only his own life at risk to save him, but also the lives of his friends (who he values far more than he values himself).

Given all this, while I certainly think Harry wouldn't immediately be best friends with Draco or forget about all the bad things he and his family did, I don't think he'd be over the top hating him like I see in some fics where Harry is outraged Draco didn't go to Azkaban or enraged by his mere presence at Hogwarts for 8th year or stuff like that, given he wasn't that bothered by Draco in 6th or 7th year when he had a lot more reason to be. That level of hostility and mistrust just doesn't feel like it fits to me.

Of course everyone is free to interpret and write the characters how they like. These are just my personal views and preferences. (And to be fair I also find it a bit jarring when Harry starts talking like he's been on tumblr reading drarry metas in defense of Draco so it's definitely a balance).

[waterfire1848]

Azutara number 29 please 🥰

Thanks for the ask @gold-fire!!!

29. going away to war au. My apologies that this one is a little shorter. I really wanted to capture this fleeting moment Azula and Katara could have before they both had to...well go away to war.

Katara rolled over in her bed. Her fingers gently pressed against the Earth Kingdom royal green colors on the blanket and her head was resting against a darker green pillow. Spirits, she hadn't enjoyed peace like this in months. The wind was gently pressing against the windows, there was a soft sound of people talking out in the streets and, the best part, her secret girlfriend was fast asleep next to her.

Azula's black hair was spread all over her pillow. Her side of the blanket went up and down as she released gentle breaths. Anytime the two managed to find an opportunity to spend some time together, Katara noticed that Azula slept in more than other firebenders. From what she heard, firebenders rose with the sun but Azula was usually the last one of them to wake up. Maybe it was because she felt safer and more at peace with Katara. Well, at least, Katara hoped that was the reason.

"Morning." Katara whispered.

"Morning." Azula smiled, rolling onto her side, "How'd you sleep?"

"Amazing. I think I crashed after our secret dinner which was delicious by the way."

"Thank you." Azula said.

"I think the chef deserves the thanks." Katara let a small laugh escape her so Azula knew she was only joking.

"How do you know I didn't make it?" Azula asked.

"Princess raised with more servants than I could count? I'm thinking you didn't cook our meal last night."

"It's very rude to assume things, Katara." Azula said, sitting up in the bed.

"You're right. I shouldn't have assumed. Did you make our dinner?" Azula looked around the room, anywhere but Katara.

"Well, no." Katara giggled, "But you still shouldn't assume. I can cook just as well as any chef." She argued.

"I'll hold you to that next time we see each other."

"I look forward to it." The two shared a quick kiss before Azula got up and walked behind a room divider to change her clothes, "Katara? Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." Katara perked up when Azula left the hidden view of the room divider, taking a seat at her dresser and brushing her hair, "Where do you see this...leading?" Azula asked. She couldn't see the waterbender but she could hear her walk closer and closer to her and, for Azula, that was somehow worse.

"What do you mean?" Katara asked.

"This. Us. I'm in the city. I'm going to-" Katara stopped her from talking.

"Remember? No talking about the war. Azula, I really, really like you and I don't want this to end yet. Can we, please, just pretend the war doesn't exist for a while longer?" She begged.

Azula just stared into Katara's wide blue eyes that were pleading with her to agree. The same blue eyes she feel in love with back in Tu Zin, the ones she looked at while they danced in an Earth Kingdom village away from their teams, the blue eyes that made Azula feel so safe.

"Then can you help me with my hair?" The princess asked, handing Katara the brush.

"Of course." Katara began brushing out Azula's long black hair, "You know you should learn to do this for yourself." Katara said.

"Why would I need to when I have you around?"

"Wouldn’t it hurt your reputation if people found out you don’t know how to do your own hair?” Katara put the brush down and grabbed a hair tie.

“I have a feeling enemies of the Fire Nation have more things to worry about than whether or not I know how to do my hair.” Azula said, inspecting her nails.

A smirk formed on Katara’s lips, “So, you’re okay knowing I know how to do something that you don’t?” She asked.

“Katara, unlike my brother, I don’t get mad over every little thing. I’m perfectly content with-“

“Knowing that Sokka knows how to do a top knot and you don’t?” Katara asked.

Azula froze. Had she been a waterbending, Katara is pretty sure she would have frozen the vases in the room with just her look.

“What?” Azula turned towards her girlfriend, her hair only half done.

“Sokka knows how to do a top knot. He learned while we were in the Earth Kingdom and he’s pretty good at it.”

Azula’s glare turned deadly, “Your brother, that peasant, knows how to do a topknot better than me?”

“What’s the matter? You were fine when I knew how to do it and you didn’t.” Katara smirked.

Azula launched out of her seat but Katara was far from scared or worried. She was actually holding back laughter.

“That was you! You and your brother are different-“

“Thanks, sweetie.”

“I refuse to not know something that idiot knows!” Azula declared.

“I mean, Sokka is incredible smart-“ Maybe Katara shouldn’t have just told her stories of Sokka being an idiot. Even if they were a great way to break the ice between the two when they started dating.

“I refuse!” Azula yelled. She gathered up all her hair supplies and sat back down at the mirror. Katara’s half done work caused her hair to fall into her face. Azula pushed her hair back and brushed it out.

“Then you wrap it up into a tight ponytail.” She mumbled.

“Good.” Katara nodded, assuring her she was on the right path.

To her credit, Azula did get pretty far. She was in the process of wrapping her hair around her hair tie, the second to last step, when he hand got caught in the tie. A couple of times.

“Do you want me-“

“I can do it.” Azula said, “If Sokka can learn then so can I.”

“Azula-“

“No. I can do this!” Azula argued, “Look! See!” It wasn’t done. They both knew it wasn’t. The hair was lumpy and Katara was 90% certain it was pulling on her scalp in some places. Still, Azula refused to let her smile fade.

Without a word, Katara picked up the brush and undid Azula’s hair. Azula didn’t say a word against Katara’s action.

“Can I tell you a story?” Katara asked.

“Go ahead.”

“When I was younger, my mom did my hair all the time. I used to hate it so much but in the South Pole you need to keep long hair up so it doesn’t get in your face. I told my mom how much I hated it, so she told me to try doing it myself the next day. In all my five year old genius, I told her I could do my hair just as well as she did every morning.” Katara let out a small chuckle as the ending of the story made its way into her mind.

“This sounds like it doesn’t end well for little five year old you.” Azula said.

“It does not.” She confirmed, “I grabbed everything I thought I’d need for my hair and tried to replicate it as best as possible. Somehow, I ended up with my hair in the most spirit awful pigtails you’ve ever seen and, even worse, I ran out of hair ties, so guess what I used? The same string we wrapped fish in.” Azula couldn’t hold back her laughter, “And not fresh fish. No, I had to pick the string that was wrapped around fish that was a couple days old. It took my mom three hours to get the smell of dead fish out of my hair.”

“I would have loved to meet five year old you. You sound both adorable and insane.”

“Why do I get the feeling we wouldn’t be dating if we met when we were five?” Katara asked, “I’m sensing a very spoiled brat energy that I feel was very strong when you were younger.”

Azula put a hand over her chest, “I am offended! My own girlfriend makes such assumptions-“

“Am I wrong?” Katara asked.

“Not at all.”

The two girls laughed a little while Katara finished up Azula’s hair, “Perfect.” She smiled, hugging Azula from behind, “I have to go.” She whispered.

“No you don’t. You have to stay here with me. We can go to the Fire Nation together. We’d still have to be a secret but we’d be together and-

Katara cut her off with a kiss, “You know I can’t do that. Just like how you can’t run away with me and join the Avatar. Even though I beg you to.“ Katara was already dressed up so all she had to do was go to the door so she could sneak off and back to the Gaang.

“Until next time.” Azula smiled.

“See you later, Princess.”

Had Azula known the next time she saw Katara’s blue eyes they’d be looking at her with pure hatred (almost screaming at her that Katara know believed she was a monster just like her mother did), she would have held Katara closer, would have begged her to stay.

Had Katara known the next time she saw Azula again she’d be screaming and ranting about her mother and her, she would have begged Azula to follow her, would have savored the last few moments she had.

[possumsarenice]

Separated AU but instead of being separated at birth (mutation?) they get token away when they were kids.

Young enough to where their personalities change a good bit (because isn’t that the point of these AUs?)

But old enough to where they remember each other and all the things that could evolve from that. Like, one might miss the others greatly, another might resent everyone for one reason or another

(Ramblings in the tags)

[syxnewt]

okay this is my valorant oc her name is accord and she is a menace to society :3

i tried something new with the shading here so i hope it looks good

[jasonntodd]

.

[frogchiro]

virgin sacrifice reader offered to war god ghost?? prepare to be his lovely wife instead of a sacrifice with at least 10 demigods running around, he wants to raise strong warriors!

Ghost would definitely be a god similiar to Ares; a god of war, brutality, bloodshed, masculinity and virility. Men go and pray by his shrine or in his dedicated temple to give them strength in both battle and bed, to be a strong and unbeatable warrior and be able to father strong, healthy children.

One such temple, the main one, is in a surprisingly remote location, surrounded not by a major city or capital but a few villages. According to myths it was this place where a brutal battle took place millenia ago where the fearsome god Ghost defeated an army all by himself, the blood of his slain enemies served to make the land fertile and for many villages to grow and prosper...until now.

Usually sacrifaces to appease the god would be made by the men of the villages; black stallions, the strongest bulls, wine, silver and pure steel, everything that has connections to masculinity and power, however some kind of horrible fatum seems to hang over your little village. The animals either die young or are sickly and weak, the wine turns out sour like vinegar, there in so money to buy anything either and it's taken as a curse by the elders. If nothing will be done and Ghost won't have his sacrifice who knows what will happen?

So they decide on the next best thing, a desperate last choice reach in hopes to appease the brutal god-a virgin sacrifice. The prettiest, unmarried and untouched young woman is to be chosen, dressed in the finest, gauzy silks and locked inside the stone temple in hopes that the god will come down and the blood of a slain virgin will calm his fury. Luck wasn't on your side it seems, you were chosen.

All you could remember were the desperate cries of your mother, the dissapointed remorseful look on your father's face and the ritual cleansing of the old crones in the village. You were cleaned in rose water, intricate patterns were drawn with a mixture of honey, mushed up berries and flowers on your breasts, around your nipples and bellybutton, and the most intricate was drawn on the place where your womb was. You were clothed in a white gauzy dress that was a symbol of your purity and then you were bound and dragged to the temple no matter how much you struggled and kicked and pleaded until you were finally locked in the dimly lit temple, only the many candles present to lighten the main chamber and to show the powerful, majestic sculpture of the god, Ghost.

Imagine crying yourself to sleep, everything hurt, you were scared and confused, all alone to die in this forsaken temple because some old men decided on it. Falling asleep out of exhaustion, the images of your crying, terrified mother haunting you even when sleeping.

Imagine waking up and instead of feeling cold and sore from sleeping on the unforgiving stone floor, and instead finding yourself laying on and under the most luxurious furs you've ever seen, the warmth of them felt like a blanket and the smell of them, pleasant warm masculine musk made a shiver run down your spine, just where were you?

Before you had the chance of looking around the room, you felt huge, strong arms clamping togehter around you and bringing you into a powerful, broad chest which rumbled with a growl like purr and a stern voice saying:

"Stay. Don't move around girl."

And the very same arms turned you gently around to face the man behind you and you couldn't help but gasp and breath out a tiny, frightened yelp-behind you was laying a man who looked like the stone sculpture of Ghost cane to life and became human. It...it was Ghost. You laid next to a god.

[shotmrmiller]

ik its hyper unrealistic but like imagine being in las almas during the 'alone' mission as just a civilian who's hiding in their home with the lights off, praying no one finds you.

then in sneaks a skull face man who's too light on his feet for his burly size, but you remain silent, pressing yourself flatter into the dark corner you're tucked in.

his boots come to an abrupt stop in your living room, and you're biting down on your tongue painfully to keep from whimpering, but you think he hears you anyway- how could he not? each quivering exhale that escapes you sounds deafening even to you.

"hide better."

you start when he speaks, a gruff baritone that reverberates in your very chest.

"now."

his unyielding tone has your body moving before you can even acknowledge the fact, scrambling away on all fours to your bedroom in a panic, when he's suddenly behind you.

a strong arm lifts you like you're but the size of a child and shoves you into a small closet, pushing you behind him and swiftly closing the door, holding the knob so it doesn't click as it shuts.

the space is too tight, your nose aching as it's forcibly pressed into his broad back. you're pinned between a solid wall and the back of the closet- a noise of protest about to fall from your lips when you hear glass shattering.

you flinch, your fingers digging into the sides of the man's jacket in reflex. voices begin to flood your quaint, little home, american by the sound of it.

it all muffles after that, a thunderous roar inside your ears, heart slamming against your chest, dread sinking into your stomach.

god don't let them find you, don't let them find you don't-

the skull man shifts imperceptibly, and a large hand curls around your thigh that's firmly pressed against his own, and tightens-

grounding.

slowly, you let out a calming breath, the rough hold he has on you soothing your frayed nerves. he wouldn't have done any of this if he was an enemy.

the moments after that feel like an eternity as the sound of footsteps that fill your home slowly dissipate. the wait feels endless, until your savior finally emerges from the closet, freeing you from confinement as well.

he walks forward a little, then turns his head your direction.

"hidin' in plain sight works only on the amateurs. these men aren't. i won't be here t'save ya next time."

he unsheathes a blade from his waistband, metal gleaming under the dim light, and silently pads toward your back door.

"thank you," you whisper.

the only sign you get that he heard you at all was a subtle pause of his movements before exiting, effortlessly melting into the shadows.

hours later, when johnny finally stumbles in through the church doors, simon notices a very recognizable fabric tied around johnny's arm in a makeshift bandage.

hm.

[tarrynightss]

what happens when sukuna’s precious little jewel actually does get pregnant ???

I’m so glad you asked Anon hehe

Concubine!reader x Sukuna thoughts part 1 here

Tags; Pregnancy, Concubine!fem!Reader, smut below cut, breeding kink, size difference, bit of lactation kink

Sukuna is not surprised when it happens after all the hard work you both put into realizing his dream. He notices a subtle change in your smell, in the energy that pulsates around you when he caresses his hand over your body. A wide grin splits on his face as he lays his hand over your lower stomach, his chest sturdy against your back. He can’t help but nuzzle his face against the side of your head, inhaling more of your intoxicating smell. “It took.”. Those simple words have your eyes widening and your heart pounding in your chest, looking back at him to ensure you understood correctly. “You’re with child.”

He’s overjoyed with the prospect of having a baby, an heir of his own. He’s more affectionate than he ever was, taking time to settle you close against him, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the growing bump on your stomach. He even caresses your hair and kisses you in an attempt to comfort you when you feel pain, all of it shockingly gentle for Sukuna. In his mind there’s a simple explanation. You did as he wanted, and you continue to do your duty well, ensuring his child is safe and growing strong inside you even when it hurts you, so you should be rewarded for it.

Sukuna has always been wary of others, but with the pregnancy he turns outright paranoid. With the amount of enemies he has he worries that one might now lash out and target you and your baby. He focuses more on maintaining barriers around the house, has someone sample your food in front of him before it’s allowed to be served to you, and you never sleep alone anymore, him always curled protectively against your side. He also decides to dismiss a large portion of his harem, not trusting them to have your best interest in mind. He knows how jealous humans can get, had seen women scratch each others eyes out just to get ahead of the other, and so the only other concubines allowed to stay are the ones you claim are your friends. He still keeps a careful eye on them, only truly allowing it because he knows that when the time comes, you will need women to aid you through it, and he doesn’t trust random midwives more than he trusts them.

Sukuna will spoil you more than ever, making sure you are comfortable in whatever way he can offer. The pregnancy is clearly taking a toll on you, your stomach having grown large and heavy, and he almost worries the size difference between you that excited him so might become the death of you. He carries you basically everywhere the last two months, wrapping you up in his strong arms and doing anything you need of him. It’s quite ironic; you used to be the one helping him get dressed, fawning over your master, and now he does the opposite for you. Though you know it’s out of necessity, it still makes your heart flutter.

That Sukuna is stressed out when you finally give birth is putting it lightly. He waits outside as customary, trying to appear stoic but panicking on the inside at your pained screams. As soon as he hears a baby cry, he barges in, watching as another concubine places the child against your bare chest. He quickly finds himself on his knees beside you, brushing one large hand over your sweaty forehead to comfort you as the other joins you in holding your baby. It’s a daughter, but she’s healthy and strong, screaming her lungs out for a minute more before calming down. You laugh, and he breathes in deeply, knowing you both made it. Relieve makes him bend forward and press a kiss to your forehead, leaning back just in time to see the child’s eyes open. Four in total, just like her father, but with the scarlet stare replaced by the lovely color of your eyes.

It surprises everyone, including you, how much of an involved father he is, holding his baby as often as he can, a large finger prodding at her pouty lips till she smiles and coos. When you apologize to him for not giving him a son, he stares at you blankly, gesturing for you to rise from where you kneel before him, putting one hand on your cheek as two others still cradle your baby. “I don’t need your apology. The child is healthy, and you will give me a son next time.” The surprise is evident on your face as your eyes snap to his. Not only is he being benevolent, but he also just said he wants another child with you. You were afraid he would discard you like a broken toy after this, no longer interesting enough to him, but it seems you still manage to hold your position as his favorite, bringing a smile to your face.

It has to be said that Sukuna can’t take his eyes off of you from the moment that tiny bump appears on your stomach. There’s something about it, about you, that makes every fiber of his being crave touching you. Maybe it’s that famous pregnancy glow, or maybe it’s the fact that he knows he’s the one who fucked a baby into you. You’re his, more clearly now than ever, and it excites him beyond his own comprehension.

Luckily for Sukuna, the hormones coursing through your body have you seeking him out desperately throughout most of your pregnancy. The first few months he fucks you like he wants to ruin you, rutting into you like an addict, but as soon as you really start showing he becomes more gentle. He wouldn’t risk seriously hurting you or his child, often seating you in his lap as he thrusts into you, his mouth lapping at your sweet neck. You still mewl so sweetly for him, so eagerly, and he already knows he might want to do this all over again after you’ve given him his first child.

Sukuna takes such good care of his little jewel, even massaging your poor sore breasts, teasing your aching nipples with his tongue. The changes to your body have him drooling all over you, his hands constantly on your growing breasts or belly. It becomes a guilty pleasure of his to touch you there, enjoying just having you on his lap as he rolls your nipples between his fingers, loving the way you squirm against him.

You find some of the changes quite embarrassing, especially when your breasts start leaking milk as you enter your third trimester. He only grins wolfishly when he notices the wet patches on the fabric covering your breasts, tutting as he pulls you to his chambers. “You need to relieve the pressure, little one.” And of course your benevolent master knows just how to do it, massaging your breasts till more drops come out, making sure he’s right there to help you through it all. This definitely gets far worse after you’ve given birth and your milk fully comes in, aching painfully to be released, Sukuna hot on your heels after ensuring your baby is fed to ‘help’ you.

[tizeline]

Some snippets into Donnie's relationship to his brothers in the Separated AU

So after having figured out that Donnie is in fact their Long Lost Brother, the Drax Trio obviously want him back, and while Donnie is initially excited to find out that he has a bunch of siblings, he's less excited to find out that they're a bit, uh, evil. And they keep insulting April!! How dare they!!! Not to mention, he already has a dad, he doesn't need a new one! So no, Donnie isn't planning on just leaving his current family behind for this new one, and his brothers react to this in various different ways.

As much as Mikey wants Donnie back, Dr. Feelings understands that this is quite the adjustment for Donnie and that he may need some time to come to terms with the fact that he actually belongs with them and not with the humans. Mikey doesn't wanna force his brother to reunite with them, so instead he tries to convince Donnie to come home willingly through various ways. I mentioned this in an earlier post, but AU Mikey is essentially trying to give Donnie a redemption arc like Canon Mikey did with Draxum

Raph, however, sees Donnie and immedietly goes full Protective Big Brother Mode. He thinks the best course of action is to "forcefully rescue" (kidnap) him and and then convince him to stay and be apart of their family. He's can't help catastrophizing about all the way his baby brother is definitely being mistreated by Lou Jitsu and April and all the other evil humans oh NO they have to SAVE HIM!! The only reason he doesn't is because no one else in the Draxum family thinks it's a good idea

And then Leo. I'll go more into detail about Leo's character in this AU at a later dat cuz hhhhhhh but basically, he's still dealing with pretty intense Middle Child Syndrome and the LAST thing he need is another middle child joining the family! Why are all his family members so obsessed with getting Donnie back anyway? He's already clearly chosen the human side so why waste their time on him! .....Now that's not entirely the whole truth, he's kinda ecstatic when he first meets Donnie, except Donnie doesn't seem to care about them any, which... ouch.

Another way to describe their dynamic would be similar to their canon dynamic, a lot of friendly bickering.... except they don't really know each other and are also enemies here so like.... UNfriendly bickering.... which is just bickering lol. They fight a lot, is what I'm getting at.

Anyway you know the family dinner scene with Draxum in season 2 of the show? Yeah, Mikey tries that tactic here too. Like I said, Mikey wants to be patient with Donnie, but he does eventually get a bit tired of Donnie acting so hostile all the time so he starts organizing hangouts for the four of them (attendence is mandatory!)

And poor Donnie, this whole situation is a bit of an emotional rollercoaster for him, as you might imagine. Reuniting with your secret lost family is fun for all of five seconds before you find out that they're actually kinda messed up uh oh. A big reason why Donnie acts so hostile towards his brothers is because it's easier for him to just dismiss them as mere enemies that he feels no attatchment to. He's basically being made to pick between this new family and his old one is Not Fun.

[writing-in-glitter-pen]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ what I know to be true ⋆｡˚ ೀ⋆｡˚ ༘

Childe wasn't a big fan of the Tsaritsa's demand for him to find a wife, until he'd come upon the perfect girl for the job. You—a lady he knew in his childhood to be a horrible nuisance and demon on Earth. Not only would this marriage fulfill his duty, but would let him settle a long-time grudge as well. Little did he know, he stood more to gain from this partnership than he thought.

Childe x fem!reader II arranged marriage, angst? to fluff, childhood enemies to lovers, romance!

Childe was never one for romance, and especially not for commitment.

He just had so much else on his plate, much bigger dreams than that of settling down in a household and abandoning his place on the battlefield.

He was always looking ahead to a future of bloodshed, of power, of someday ruling the world.

That wasn't going to happen if a distraction stood in his way.

He would sometimes muse about having kids, loving the idea of continuing his lineage and watching a bunch of mini-me's run around, but ultimately, he decided his duty to the Tsaritsa would stand in the way of him being a good father. So he'd just have to settle for being an amazing uncle to the children his siblings would eventually have, spoiling them with presents at Christmas time and teaching them how to protect themselves out in the wild.

So when he was called into the Tsaritsa's throne room and received the news that a harbinger of his status was to be married, in order to keep up with regal airs the nobles of Snezhanaya, he was, respectfully, very unhappy.

"You'll be seen at balls and lead battalions. Your role must be carried with honor. Nobody will respect an old lonely man.", she claimed, then drew out a long, thin arm to hold his chin with a bony hand—long pointed nails pressing divots into his skin. Though her touch was frigid, she looked down at him with a certain fondness in her eyes, though the sincerity of it was undistinguishable. "You need a pretty thing by your side to elevate your status. You know I only want what's best for you.", she cooed, like she was addressing a child.

He new better than to disobey her commands, and something about the smoothness of her voice assured him that this was the right choice. He only nodded, though his fists clenched at his sides in dismay.

Childe read over the listed names of eligible young ladies for him to marry with contempt; scrolling through the meaningless last names and accompanying statures, ordered from top to bottom by how highly they stood in the totem pole of nobility. Like he cared where the girl would come from.

He felt guilt for the miserable thing that would have to marry him; though he could care less about who these women were, he believed that they deserved a partner that loved them, or at least a good man that could stand to take care of them. All they would be to him is a nuisance, a label which they had done nothing to earn.

Though, when he neared the end of the list, a section devoted to common folk who had certain merits like striking beauty or some sort of fame, that he found a name he recognized.

Your name.

Oh, how he remembered you.

You were the daughter of good friends of his parents. Your families would often gather for holidays or dinner parties, sharing what little they had in the name of kinship. The gatherings were lively, full of happiness and cheer...

But you had a certain countenance that stood out to him and branded your name into a special part of his brain to be remembered for the rest of his life.

You were a little brat was what you were.

Though you were only a toddler when he met you, having only just taken your first steps while he was already halfway through being eight, he found you to be the most insufferable little human he'd ever met.

Your parents would always gab and brag about what a good little girl you were; how you never cried or screamed, how you were sweet and patient and loving—a wonderful surprise for parents preparing for the "terrible two's.".

They had to be lying, because every time Ajax would come into view you'd immediately throw a fit, wailing and swiping at his face with a kind of rage an entire army of men could not match.

He had no idea why; he never touched you, or spoke to you, all he did upon your first meeting was draw back in repulse.

You weren't a pleasure to look at; with your beady little eyes and thick eyelashes that lined them, your thin eyebrows and piercing gaze. You looked like some haunted porcelain doll. And there was a certain consciousness behind your eyes that children your age were not supposed to have.

His little siblings were much cuter.

And he did not hesitate to say that.

"Tonia was a prettier baby. What's wrong with her?", he piped up, humiliating his mother and father who immediately scolded him for his rudeness. Your mother only laughed.

"Trust me, she'll be a beauty when she grows up. I won't be surprised when you come around here in sixteen years asking to marry her."

This started a little musing session between your mothers, giggling about the possibility of their children being wed and how wonderful that would be for their friendship and their families.

Meanwhile, Ajax was dwelling on how that would absolutely never happen—if the look on your face was any indicator.

You were red as a tomato, nose scrunched in distain as your eyes pierced his. Like you'd understood him.

How was he supposed to know babies could take offense?

Whether or not your infant brain could comprehend his words, your hatred was clear, and before he could react, your soft little hand went flying towards his face and landed with a resounding THWAP!

Even though you struck him, you immediately burst into tears, bawling crocodile tears that ran down your face and dripped off of your chin.

All of the adults in the room immediately ran to your aid, hushing and petting you while scorning Ajax for "tormenting the poor girl."

Never before had he felt so cheated.

That begun his feud with a two year old.

Your detest for one another ran deep. So much so that every gathering between your families ended in you receiving plenty of sneaky pinches to your fat baby skin and him risking a bald spot with the amount of hair you'd rip out of his head.

It was a nightmare you could walk too, since you'd often seek him out just to babble in annoyance and tug at the knee of his trousers.

"See? Look at how much she likes you!", his mother would coo, but he knew better. Your grappling with his pants was your pea-brained strategy to get him to bend down and remove you so you could bop him one on the nose.

He swore you were such a strong baby. He'd rather take a hit from a club than suffer the force that your tiny fists could bring down on his head.

That's why you were the perfect girl to be his wife

If he were to marry any other woman, the guilt of leaving her alone at home for long stretches of time, depriving her of having the good husband she deserves rather than a man who could never love her, would be overwhelming.

Sure, he was a monster, but he wasn't about to let some innocent bystander be collateral damage.

But you? The evil, horrible little wench you are? You more than deserved it.

In his mind, he'd actually be doing his fellow man a favor by saving an unsuspecting bachelor from accidentally marrying a grisly thing like you.

So, although his retainers were already in the process of scheduling meetings with his potential brides, he plucked your name from the list without hesitation.

"Set the wedding date. I'll have that one."

The organizers looked between themselves warily, deciding whether or not they should challenge him on this monumental decision.

"And nothing too grand—it'll just be family.", he cooly added, leaning back in his chair to rest his feet upon his desk and crushing the list of names under his dirty boots.

In the end, the harbinger always gets what he wants, so his retainers retreated with quiet nods and quick steps.

Though Childe acted aloof towards the decision to have you as his bride, when the day of the wedding actually arrived and he found himself standing at the altar of a small church in Mosepok—his home town, his palms were sweating and eyes darting around nervously. He shifted his weight on his feet as the congregation waited for you to enter; this was supposed to be a small ceremony, but leave it to his mother and father's proud announcements to their friends and neighbors to draw a crowd. As his eyes scanned the faces of those who'd known him in his youth, he realized near all of the small port town was packed into the pews. He wracked his brain for the answer as to why these people would want to watch their old town troublemaker's union, but he supposed it would be the most interesting thing to happen in the town since his era of delinquency.

It was a miracle that the budget the Fatui gave Childe for this wedding greatly superseded the amount he'd needed for the original plan of a small gathering; it was more than enough to feed the whole town for a night, which actually brought a flicker of joy to Childe's chest.

He was pleased that he could give back to the community that handled him like a family in his childhood.

But that flicker was immediately quenched when the creaking sound of the heavy oak doors that led into the chapel reverberated through the room—revealing the silhouette cast in white of his bride.

His stomach turned with anxiety. Childe had led battalions into what could be considered suicide missions if not for their miraculous victorious outcome, and yet, somehow, the fear he felt standing in front of a girl that, though she may not be small by definition, definitely looked so standing next to him, significantly surpassed that of which he's ever felt.

His cold body shook like he stood inches from death.

Suddenly, he remembered the fury your little body had when you were only a baby, and it dawned on him that you've only gotten bigger, smarter, stronger. A little arbiter of the apocalypse couldn't have grown into the meek woman he imagined, if anything, her bloodlust grew with age.

What did he get himself into? Was he an idiot? Did he, blinded by his scheming for revenge, land himself in a lion's den?

With a light tap on the shoulder from the priest, he jolted out of his stupor and found you standing in front of him already, suddenly remembering that he was now to lift your veil.

His hands shook as he reached out, bracing himself for the hideous face he'd been forced to associate with at every friendly gathering between your parents in childhood, and now, due to his own brashness, would have to associate with every time he returned home or attended public events.

He took a deep breath and shut his eyes as he took the fabric between his white-knuckled fingers and threw the thing up and over your head. The procession hummed with awe and approval—some more boisterous men from the docks whistling, to which their wives jabbed an elbow into their ribs.

The sounds of adoration resounding from the audience perplexed Childe, drawing his interest and encouraging him to open one wary eye and peek at you.

But his cautious peek grew into an owlish gawking and dropped jaw when the woman before him shined like an angel.

This couldn't have been the girl he knew in her infancy; her once-beady eyes now twinkled like stars, her red puffy face was now sculpted and the only remnants of her discoloration resided in dusted pink pigments on her cheeks. They were so perfectly placed that they could be mistaken for a painting by an artist with a keen eye. He pried his gaze from your enrapturing eyes to ogle your lips—plushy and inviting. He'd give anything to kiss a gorgeous woman like you.

And he remembered with an unexpected delight that he would by the end of this ceremony.

Before he knew it, the soft ring of your voice settled upon his ears. Having been caught in a trance, he hadn't realized the procession already arrived at your vows.

He only tuned in after the opening sentences of your declaration had passed, your words blurred by his reverie.

"I promise to wait for you when you go and embrace you when you return; to make a warm, solace of a home for you that you can always come back to, whether there be a roof over our heads or not. I promise to follow you through this life and meet you in the next, to be by your side when you need me, no matter how far apart we may be forced to exist. I promise to love you and only you, to be true as long as your ring encloses my finger, and promise to keep it there forever. I will take your family into my arms just as you will me, care for them—as they are an extension of you, to love them just as I do you. I'll hold you ever close to my heart, speak to you with nothing but kindness, recognize your face as that of my partner in life, my one and only, and..."

Childe jumped when he felt your warm hand sneak up on his and gingerly intertwine your fingers, to which he did not resist, nor want to.

"I promise to love you as you are; no matter how much the years we spend together may change us."

To his puzzlement, Childe felt a certain wetness roll down his cheek, causing him to look up at the skylight above the both of you to check if it was raining. When another droplet ran down the other side of his face, he realized he was crying.

Childe never cried, he couldn't even remember the last time it had happened; maybe it was sometime when he was a boy, but the memory simply did not exist. These were not tears shed in misery, they were spurred by your words of devotion, words he'd never been blessed with before. He truly wondered now if you may be divine, but all he beheld of you told him you were, in fact, human, and not a vision of absolution sent from the heavens above.

You tilted your head to the side and blinked your dollish eyelashes at him, obviously waiting for something, to which he remembered that is was now his turn.

He had neglected to write vows beforehand or memorize the traditional vows spoken by couples bound by marriage as an arrangement. He had, in fact, planned on skipping the process altogether, but your profession of love caught him off guard and incentivized him to speak his own.

So, with a blank mind, he resorted to letting the few truths he knew spill from his mouth.

"I'd only known you during our childhoods, but how you've blossomed and changed has..."

He had never been one for words, so making something up on the spot in front of quite literally a hundred people was daunting. His voice seized with trepidation, but he took a breath and moved forward.

"Has...left me speechless. My mind is empty, and all I can think of now is...that I am blessed."

He swallowed a lump in his throat and continued, struck by your endearing gaze on him—it made his voice quiver as it resounded from his chest.

"I'd assumed I knew you, but it's clear to me now that I have so much more to learn."

He unconsciously squeezed your hand for comfort, and, with a gentle smile on your face, you reassuringly squeezed back; making him sigh and yearn to feel more of you—imagining that you felt like warm cotton, soft and homey, something he could bury himself in and happily stay there for eternity.

"And I want to learn it. I...want to spend my whole life in awe of you, discovering as much as I can, knowing you like I know myself."

He could not hesitate before he blurted his next statement, his voice getting carried away from him and spilling his most personal beliefs.

"And loving you as you love me."

Your cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink, and your eyes glimmered as your perfect lips stretched into an even more enticing smile. He could hear your soft, happy sigh, a sound that not even the priest beside the two of you could catch, almost like a secret meant just for him.

Your sweetness enthralled him like nothing he'd ever experienced— slowly convincing him that you very well may be the best thing that's ever happened to him.

"I'll take care of you.", he promised, and meant it. "I'll spend the rest of my life ensuring your safety and happiness. Despite what you promised before, I will always put a roof over your head. You'll be forever warm and safe. I will fight for you, die for you, do anything you ask. You will want for nothing as long as you're mine."

His vow had come upon its conclusion with one final promise he all but growled, like it was somehow in danger of being broken—that he would go to any length to protect.

"And you will forever be mine."

His pause at the end indicated to the priest that the his vow had ended, and the way your lips parted in wonder and your wide eyes remained locked on his made him want to lean in and kiss you like every inch of his body burned to do. But he had to, begrudgingly, wait; hoping the ceremony would end as soon as possible so he could finally have you to himself and ask you all the questions he was dying for the answers to.

Did you really mean what you said? He sure did, and he didn't even know he had the capacity to not only promise, but want, desperately so, the fulfill the oaths he had declared to you.

Soon enough, the priest announced it was now time for the bestowing of the rings—a symbol of the bond you will share for eternity.

As the ring bearer, Childe's dear brother, Teucer, brought the rings resting on a white silk pillow over to the altar and held it over his head while he balanced on his tippy toes so the two of you could reach the rings with ease. Childe immediately felt awash in shame. All he'd purchased for you was a simple silver band—no precious gems, no original detailing, just a band. He didn't expect to want to take pride in the symbol of his loyalty you'd wear for him on your finger. He'd get you a new one, a better one—one he could admire as he kissed your hand, held it with adoration and smoothed his fingers over it.

But although the ring fell below expectations, there was no disappointment on your face. You barely glanced at it, your eyes trained on his face with a fondness he'd never received before. Your gaze had his heart spilling over with exaltation.

You took his hand in yours and slipped the perfectly fitted ring around his finger, giving it a small squeeze when you were done—as if to brand your affection deep into his hand.

He returned the gesture, taking your other hand in his and, carefully, securing the ring around your finger as well; he breathed a sigh of relief and felt a weight he hadn't known was resting on his shoulders alleviate. His heart thundered in his chest, threatening to leap out in a desperate attempt to be ever closer to yours.

The priest spoke, but his voice was drowned out by Childe's inner voice, wailing for you.

All he could register was the sound of your silver bell-like voice, piercing through the fog in his head like a star's light in the void of the night sky above.

"I do.", you said.

He couldn't tell if he'd rushed ahead of the priest's announcement of his turn or not, but he followed your statement blindly.

"I do.", he whispered ardently, brushing the backs of those precious hands of yours softly with his thumbs.

After the final blurb recited by the priest, a sentiment he couldn't bring himself to listen to in his anticipation, he finally heard the words he'd been waiting for.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Without a moment of delay, he brought both of his hands up to cup your cheeks, a look of ache in his face as it felt like you had reached an invisible hand into his chest and gripped his heart, and kissed you.

Fervently, passionately kissed you.

It took your breath away, left you panting when he finally pulled away after remembering he was, in fact, in front of his parents and broader community.

But cheers sang from the crowd for your union as he led you back down the steps of the altar and out of the church, eyes trained on your feet with your hand secured in his—watching carefully as you descended to make sure you wouldn't fall. He treated you as if you were sculpted from crystal glass.

After the two of you crossed the threshold out of the church as one, Childe gently tugged your hand to draw you closer so that he could whisper in your ear.

"Could we take a walk in the garden?"

While the guests made their way to the reception hall for their lavish dinner, you and Childe strolled through the church's garden together, hands still intertwined as the two of you gazed at the various winter shrubs and evergreen trees sprinkled with snow. It was beautiful in its own kind of way; the way life persevered through otherwise uninhabitable conditions, how even the bear oak trees existed as intricate silhouettes against the grey sky—providing cover as the sun sank down and gave way to a grim dusk, it was wonderful, and in this moment, it was yours to share.

The two of you came to a halt at a marble bench next to a large, frozen fountain, adorned with swirling details and moulding from an older, more fanciful era. He swiped off the snow that had built on top of the bench, then removed his large, fur-lined cloak to rest on the surface. He led you down to sit on it, having fashioned a dry, warm seat for you as he stood.

"Won't you be cold?"

"I'll be fine.", he assured you. He'd grown used to the frigid air of his home country, having entered various conflicts with nothing but thin linen to cover him for the sake of his movements not being burdened by thick, heavy fabric.

"Thank you.", you spoke, softly, and the words warmed his chest more than any coat could.

He stood there for a long moment, just taking in the sight of you. He just couldn't believe you were real, and couldn't believe you were his at so little a cost—he'd done nothing but bellyache and pluck your name off of a paper, and somehow the situation ended up being the best decision of his life. He'd found someone that claimed to truly, deeply love him by sheer chance.

And that thought brought him to the question that had been weighing on his mind since your vows.

"Did you really mean what you said?", he asked, quietly, hesitantly. After the words left his mouth, he wished he'd never said them. He didn't want to know the answer; if he could live in a fantasy where a miracle like you truly adored him, he'd seize the opportunity and hold it close to his heart for the rest of his life. He felt like such a fool.

"Of course I did.", you chuckled, like the question was ridiculous.

"I thought you hated me.", he confessed, his curiosity for your change of heart getting the best of him when he knew better than to ask too many questions. You only quirked your head and blinked at him, indicating that he needed to clarify. "When we were younger, you acted like you wanted my head on a stick."

To that admission, you laughed heartily. It was a lovely sound, one his mind would no doubt play on repeat in his darkest of times, sending sparks to his heart that would keep him moving forward—back to you so he could hear it again and again. "I was a toddler, dear. I didn't understand my feelings! And you were pretty nasty to me, too.", you said with a playful, pointed look.

The term of endearment made his heart bubble, craving to hear you say it again, but his mind was desperate for more answers. "But...how did you...", he coughed awkwardly, "fall for me?".

His carefully spoken question only made you giggle once again, but you could understand his confusion.

"Oh, Ajax. You were the most entertaining person I've ever met. I know we fought, but I remembered your presence in my life so fondly. And I'd look at pictures of us from our old gatherings, where our parents would force you to hold me on your lap and smile, or take candid shots of us chasing each other around, and I'd wish for you to come back so we could fight again.", you laughed at the memory. "I thought of you all the time, you know. And, as I grew older and life passed by, I'd keep looking back on those photos and...", your cheeks turned even redder than the chilly air had already done, flushing your cheeks and nose. After this conversation, Childe would make sure to rush you inside so you could warm up by a hearth. "Well, my heart would beat for you. And I wished you would come back for different reasons...so I could see you again and fall in love with the man you've become."

Childe gulped in shame. He knew the man he'd become was...cruel. Wicked. He'd never thought so little of himself than when he stood before you, your glorious, pure eyes assessing him like Celestia would upon the day of his death.

But how you looked on at him was not in judgement, but affection. "And when I met you at the altar, I did. I truly did."

He was so swayed by your words, so caught up in your devotion, that though he knew he was undeserving, he leaned down and connected your lips with his once again; his large hands warmed you where they caressed your cheek and the side of your neck, his lips thawing your frozen ones. The flavor of you was intoxicating, but as much as he wanted to prolong this moment, your icy skin pushed him to get you inside immediately.

So he drew back, drawing the most angelic whine of protest from your lips. It made him grin in pride.

"Let's warm you up, huh?"

Though you wanted to stay in the privacy of this isolated garden, continue to live in this moment that only existed for the two of you, you couldn't deny how you shivered and your stomach growled. It was time for your reception, and you couldn't keep your guests waiting.

So you, albeit reluctantly, let Ajax pull you up into his arms and throw his cloak around the both of you before taking you back to the church where he married you, now entering sharing one heart, one life, one love. Forever.

[fangswbenefits]

Ao3 . Ko-fi

ASTARION

⤷ Book - Astarion comes across an interesting book and decides to share the knowledge with you. Quite literally.

⤷ The Arrangement (on-going series): masterlist

⤷ Lockpicking - You ask Astarion to teach you how to lockpick and things get... out of hand.

⤷ Pointy Ears - You accidentally find just how sensitive Astarion is when it comes to a certain part of his body…

⤷ Curiosity - Astarion wishes to satisfy his curiosity when it comes to breastfeeding... and comes up with a proposition that is mutually beneficial.

⤷ Oral Fixation - Astarion is quite sure you are going to drive him insane from how adorable and clueless you are when eating those juicy fruits around him... and he just has to do something about it.

⤷ Unexpected - Astarion has barely ever considered starting a family with you in the old-fashioned way, but an unexpected conversation might just trigger that urge.

⤷ Breathe - Astarion is more than eager to show you the perks of not breathing.

⤷ Questions - Your curiosity drives you to ask Astarion a very unexpected question, and he's more than happy to give you a proper reply.

⤷ Patience - You are too eager to ride Astarion, and he proposes a solution to your impatience. After all, experience is the best teacher and impatience its fiercest enemy.

⤷ Backfire - You should have known better than to make Astarion jealous, and now you are left to deal with the consequences.

⤷ Reading Session - Astarion walks in on you reading a rather suggestive book, and far be it from him to interrupt your learning process. 

⤷Trance - Astarion is having a hard time trancing, and you offer to help him out in more ways than one.

⤷ Fever - You're running a fever, and Astarion offers to cool you down… only to make things a whole lot worse.

⤷ Everything - You're used to staying still whenever Astarion feeds on you. This time, he wants you to feel everything.

⤷ Comfortable - Astarion walks in on you in a rather compromising situation. Naturally, he offers to help, but then you ask him to promise you something that he was not expecting…

(LINKS ARE CURRENTLY NOT WORKING - I'LL FIX THEM SOON 🙏)

MIGUEL O'HARA

✫ 18+:

⤷ Tension - Miguel walks in on you late at night doing something unexpected, which makes things really awkward afterwards…

⤷ For Science - There has been a rumour circulating in regards to Miguel’s venom. It has to be too far-fetched, right?

⤷ Intimacy - Lack of intimacy after childbirth can weigh a relationship down. Thankfully, Miguel always finds new ways to keep the spark alive.

⤷ Perfect Morning - Miguel’s definition of a perfect morning involves a comfortable bed and being buried deep inside you.

⤷ Comfort - Miguel has been having nightmares as of late and seeks a level of comfort only you can provide.

⤷ Breakfast in Bed - Miguel wakes you up to breakfast in bed.

⤷ Stress Relief - Peter B. Parker should know better than to swing by unannounced.

⤷ Sharing is Caring (I) - (II) - A mission has both Miguel and you sharing a room… what could possibly go wrong?

⤷ [COMPLETE] (0) Sweet Girl , (1) Frustration , (2) Suit Up , (3) Obsession , (4) Consequences , (5) Discovery , (6) Double-edged Sword , (7) Confession , (8) Devotion - Miguel’s desire for you has been taking a toll on him, and he really has no other option…

⤷ Second Intentions - You’ve been tense lately, and Miguel offers a massage. Quite thoughtful of him… except you know exactly why.

⤷ Tracking - You find out Miguel has been tracking something that concerns you… and him.

⤷ Gentle - Miguel shows you how gentle he can be during your pregnancy and how worthy you are of it.

⤷ Backfire - The math is simple: you make Miguel jealous + push him past his breaking point = hot rough sex. Too bad Miguel doesn’t do simple.

⤷ Side Effect - Miguel has been acting off lately and you find out why… the hard way.

⤷ Stubborn - As far as you’re concerned, you just want to stay in bed all day, admiring Miguel’s glorious chest.

✫ Fluff/Comedy/Comfort/Hurt/Angst/Misc:

⤷ Memories - You are ready to tell Miguel he is going to be a father… but he isn’t.

⤷ Revelations - Miguel asks you to keep a secret, so naturally everyone is about to find out.

⤷ Solution - Period cramps always leave you feeling miserable, so Miguel offers a solution.

⤷ Tiny Spider - Your daughter has a few questions, and you suspect Miguel might just open a portal to another dimension.

⤷ Another Chance - You go into labour and all you know is that you need Miguel more than ever.

⤷ Broken - You wonder if Miguel is broken beyond repair, because he surely believes that.

⤷ Family - Miguel is a natural when it comes to being a father.

⤷ A Series of Firsts - You and Miguel are ready to become parents and you must now go through a series of firsts together.

⤷ Appreciation - Miguel catches you staring at a very specific part of his body…