#the sun has risen i think i should go to sleep

[sexlapis]

# the D word

꩜ nanami x gn!reader

ns4w, daddy kink, penetrative s e x, praise, fluff, crack, undisclosed kinks, the tiniest bit of angst, petnames

⤷ synopsis : nanami accidentally reveals his “secret” kink.

wc: 1.4k

a/n: i love a good daddy kink fic #sorrynosorry

masterlists

*

the first time that word slips from his lips, you don’t even think he realises.

it had been a tiring, stressful day for nanami and unfortunately, those types of days are not uncommon in his line of work.

some days are better than others. some days he is here, with you and present even after a bad day but other times…he can be gone for months.

luckily, it wasn’t one of those days.

while you finished off preparing dinner, nanami rests on the couch, head lolling back into the headrest. his noticeable tie is long gone, along with his suit coat and goggles. the top few buttons of his blue shirt are undone, the sleeves of it rolled up to his elbows, revealing the pale expanse of his trimmed forearms.

you walk into the living room, where he is. “nanami, dinners ready. let’s go eat!”

nanami grunts, eyes closed and not making any viable efforts to join you or to eat.

you tilt your head, sympathy in your eyes. maybe he has a headache or just wants to sleep. i’ll leave him the leftovers for work.

“_____,” nanami drawls out, sounding like he’s minutes away from passing out, “_____, c’mere, come sit for a second, hm..”

“hm? oh…ken, are you okay?” you move closer to him, placing the back of your hand on his forehead, “maybe you should go to bed.”

“no. yes. no. i’m fine,” nanami huffs, running a hand down his face before patting his lap, “just c’mere, come sit. come sit on daddy’s lap.”

any thoughts in your head, any words you were to utter, any movements you were to make instantly come to an abrupt halt.

uhm…what?

daddy?

your jaw may as well be plonk on the floor.

now, you and nanami’s sex life is not boring or unsatisfactory in the slightest, the exact opposite in fact. you and nanami were happy with what you had. but you most definitely did not peg him to be the type who likes to be called…that word.

did you like that word though? growing up, you had always thought it was a bit strange hearing your friends call the guys they found attractive a term that one would use for their father. for you, it wasn’t even a question or even a thought. you simply and absolutely were not a fan. it wasn’t for you…or so you thought.

that word. nanami said it so easily, so readily, like he didn’t even think about what he was referring to himself as, like he did it every day of his life.

the way in which he said it, in a weary, gentle groan, urging you to sit on his lap, so unfazed like he knew you would say yes to his request as if he has ever called himself “daddy”.

it makes the pit of your stomach alight with unexpected desire. all because of one word.

so you decide to indulge him (and maybe, secretly, yourself too).

you shuffle the short distance to nanami, carefully sitting yourself right in the middle of his lap and curling your knees up on his thigh, you cheek now smushed against his shirt. the steady rhythm of his heartbeat almost sends you to sleep.

he hums, content when he rings his arms around you body like vines and prods his nuzzles the top of your head, breathing heavily and letting his eyes close.

“this is all i needed…”

the next day, all is forgotten.

*

the next time he said it, the sun had just about risen over the clouds on a lazy weekend.

sweat slides between the gravitating bodies of you and nanami, luminary, golden light shining over the two of you. only the sound of skin coming together and the sounds of soft, tired pleasure were all that could be heard in the room.

nanami embraces you closely as you move on top of him languidly, not in a rush at all but already so, so close to reaching your peaks.

he groans, loud and deep. nanami is more vocal in the morning you’ve noticed, all drowsy and vulnerable and pliant. blonde strands of hair stick to his forehead as rouge washes over his neck and cheeks.

“hmfp…fuck…oh shit,” nanami’s hands finds your rippling ass, groping gently and pulling it, exposing you most intimate areas to the chill of the morn, “i’m cumming. fuck, i’m cumming. you’re gonna make daddy cum.”

it embarrasses you. how quickly your eyes roll into the back of your head when he calls himself that damn name again.

you don’t stop and the unhurried circling of your hips around nanami’s cock as you, quite literally, ride out your high has him clutching onto your waist whilst he releases himself inside of you, jerking himself upwards and holding you in place, ensuring you take it all.

languorous rolls of the hips turn into soft grinds as you milk him for all he’s worth. he’s jelly in your hold, moaning quietly and long eyelashes fluttering.

“god…” you chime, lifting yourself up and off his manhood, making him hiss at the cold. white drips out of you, dripping onto nanami’s lower torso.

the next few moments are still after he moves you lay next to him, still regaining your breath and coming back to earth. you peer to your left and that his eyes are closed.

probably going to fall back asleep…

you kiss his sweaty shoulder, “it’s okay baby, you can go to sleep.

nanami whines, breathes out and he…sleeps once again.

no mention of that either.

*

later on in the day, rain patters against the clear window. you and nanami sit closely on the couch, a book in your hand and a very loved kindle in his. he wears his nerdy reading glasses and a cream-coloured sweater, looking all cosy, homey and domestic.

…your mind is not on the book in front of you. not in the slightest.

daddy… just when i think i’ve got him all figured out…

to you, it’s odd. i mean, it would be odd to anyone if their partner began referring to themselves as “daddy” out of the blue, right? why not discuss it with you first? what if it was a turn-off and you didn’t even like it? then again, nanami has not heard any complaints from your mouth. you’re not even sure you have any complaints about his quite generous use of the word.

i think it’s starting to grow on me.

you should just ask him. but what if he’s embarrassed?

well he should’ve thought about that and discussed it with me?

what if it’s awkward?

well not all conversations in a relationship are going to be comfortable.

what if he just shuts down and gives me the silent treatment?

well, maybe-

“since when you do you have a daddy kink?”

nanami chokes on his own spit, coughing before he sputters, staring at you like he should be the one that’s shocked, “wh-what?!”

“don’t play dumb! are we just gonna pretend that you haven’t been calling yourself da- the “D” word recently?” you whisper-shout the last part, feeling heat rise on your face, “where did that even come from?”

“alright, alright i-,” he sighs, “listen i…i’ve-i’ve liked.. it for a while now. it was just-,” he sighs again, looking to the floor, “embarrassing.”

“…oh nanami…” you cuddle up to him, moving his hand away from his now red face, kissing the back of his hand, “you’re so silly. you don’t have to be embarrassed. loads of people like those things…a heads up would’ve been appreciated though…”

“right. sorry.”

you shrug it off, “nah, it’s fine. i actually think it suits you. “daddy” huh?”

“oh, jesus christ.” nanami presses his eyes together, rethinking his life choices.

“oh no, don’t backtrack now. you brought this upon yourself this time…you do have a lot of…”daddy” qualities to be honest,” you genuinely begin to ponder, “you’re caring, kinda fatherly, dominant, you even carry me to bed sometimes and pick out my clothes and -”

“please-”

“what is it? is daddy getting shy? you weren't shy last night.”

nanami might as well melt into the ground as you snicker in his face. you are having far too much fun with this.

“are you done?”

“yes, daddy.”

“eugh.”

you giggle some more and really, nanami does see the humour in this. a stoic man too embarrassed to tell his partner about his little kink? that is silly.

“but seriously, it’s fine. i kinda like it!”

“yes, i got that impression.”

you smack his bicep. “not too much. just tell me next time, yeah? i don’t want to be having sex and then next thing i know you’re calling me “master” or something, that would be crazy.”

“…yeah… that would be crazy…”

“…”

“…”

“nanami? what-”

*

< thank u for reading ૮꒰ˊᗜˋ* ꒱ა >

[1roentgen]

picrew tag game 💥

tagged by @princeofpittsburgh thank u my friend (((o(*°▽°*)o)))

link: https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1243146

adding this incredibly crunchy selfie for image scaling purposes but also mod face reveal? (￣～￣;) (original tag game was just the picrew fyi but dear mutuals it would be pogged to see yall)

tagging any and all mutuals (or even non mutuals) who like picrews / want to do this…….🫵👁️👁️ ❔

[southislandwren]

ive been astoundingly Normal at my internship so far so maybe [redacted] just made me act like that :/ i bet it was that damn mustard gas incident

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

7am. Can't sleep. Have to wake up at 9am. The sun is rising. Probably just won't sleep.

[elaci]

One For The Road

The morning after what's meant to be a one-night-stand, Nat convinces you to stay in bed a little longer.

cw; mentions of drunk sex, thigh riding n pussy eating as god intended

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader | 18+ mdni

Nat, she told you to call her.

The woman whose taste still stains your lips, whose touch still burns your skin and voice still purrs in your memory. The woman whose bed you wake naked in, with her arms snaked around your waist.

She’s warm in a way that makes you think, for a moment as you wake, that this is familiar. You’re more comfortable than you’ve been in months, her bed plush but firm enough to support you and the gentle ache of your body after her extensive ministrations the night before.

The sun has long risen, and shines through her window in such a way that the room is bathed in radiant golden hues. You turn a little, still half-drunk on sleep, and take in the sight of Nat as she sleeps soundly. You know you should get up while you can, leave without the awkward goodbyes that follow a one night stand, but her skin is so soft and her arm such a comfort around your waist that you feel wholly stuck in place. You wonder if you could get away with closing your eyes and drifting off for a few more minutes.

“Better not be thinking about leaving me,” her voice breaks the morning silence. You turn your head and meet her eyes, tired and heavy with sleep but still boring into yours under the morning gold.

You offer her a gentle smile. “Go back to sleep,” you hum. “I’ll get out of your hair and call you later, yeah?”

You aren’t sure you even have her number saved in your phone, or where your phone is, for that matter. Despite the pang in your chest at the thought of never crossing paths with Nat again, you take the high road and move to get out of bed. Her arm tightens around your waist before you get the chance.

“Nope,” she mumbles, pulling you into her body. Skin against skin, it brings back memories of the night before that you doubt you’ll rid the taste from your lips. Nat manages to press a kiss to your collarbone. “I’m not done with you.”

She kisses you again, and again, peppering open mouthed kisses across the expanse of your chest, each time eliciting a shiver in their wake.

Your judgement isn't clouded by alcohol anymore, you can feel each trace of her lips like fire against your skin as she trails soft kisses up the column of your neck. Every breath sends your blood rushing south. You can barely manage the words you speak, drunk once again with desire.

“I thought…” you gasp when she bites at your pulsepoint. “You said last night was a one time thing.”

Nat pulls away to look at you with raised eyebrows, you grieve the loss of contact. “You think I tell the truth when I’m drunk?”

She traces a nail down your bare chest, underneath the sheet that covers the two of you, tracing invisible designs against your rib cage until your skin feels impossibly tight. You’re lost for words again, and she takes advantage of the moment, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips.

“Stay, and let me taste you again,” her tone is steady. “Or get out of my bed, you gorgeous piece of shit, and make breakfast.”

Your mind betrays you, throws away all rules and notions of a one-night-stand and moves your body on your behalf. You’re catching her lips in a kiss before you can register the hand that slips from your stomach to your thigh. You taste alcohol, and the remnants of a cigarette you barely remember her slipping out of your arms to smoke on the balcony. She takes your bottom lip between her teeth and bites down, shooting the most beautiful pain right from your lips down to your pulsing core.

Her grip is strong on your leg, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh as if she’s trying to stake her claim on you. It’s a feeling that drives lust through you like electricity: the notion of being desired, owned. When she pulls the sheet off of the both of you and climbs over your naked frame, you feel like a woeful miscreant for ever thinking of leaving this bed. Your heart beats so hard it almost hurts. You wonder if, when her mouth latches onto one of your peaked nipples, she can feel the thrum of your heart against her lips.

“God,” starved, she presses a kiss to your other breast. “I should tie you to this bed, keep you here until you’re too fucked out to remember your own name.”

“Nat—” you try, entranced by whatever spell she’s washing over you. Her kisses trail down your stomach.

“That’s right,” she groans against your hip bone. “Let me make you mine.”

“Yes,” you vocalise your consent, but Nat tuts.

“Say please.”

“Please.”

With not even a second to spare, Nat is delving between your thighs for a taste of your lust. She groans against your pussy, already high off the taste she’s gotten, and latches her lips onto your clit in an assault fueled by need and need alone. She’s a woman with a mission, and you feel dizzy with desire for more already. You want her inside of you, her body as tightly pressed against yours as she can manage. You ache for every inch of her. For everything.

For now, though, she does what she knows you need. Your hand snakes down to grab at her red hair as her tongue works violently against your clit until you’re a writhing mess beneath her.

Once you’re close enough to the edge that you’re seeing stars, Nats scalp must burn from the stress of your pulling. Trying anything to get closer, become one with the woman so pussydrunk she’s moaning against your clit like she’s the one being unravelled.

Being as coy as she is, however, you can feel her smile against your pussy as you come close to orgasm. Just as your toes curl and a sobbed moan starts to break from your chest, Nat pulls away and leaves you bucking your hips into the air for any semblance of stimulation. You could cry.

“Had to punish you somehow for thinking you could sneak away,” Nat pushes herself up to your face, you can see a gloss of your arousal coating her lips and chin from her messy ministrations. “Sorry.”

You’re about to comment, through babbled words, that she doesn’t sound sorry when her lips meet yours once more. The kiss is messy and harsh, your teeth click together and tongues meet and you can taste yourself. She is one to share, after all. The taste of your lust mixed with the intoxicant of her lips is almost enough for you to forgive her for your ruined orgasm. Almost.

When Nat pulls away, wiping her lips with the back of her hand to maintain at least a little composure, she catches your frown and mirrors it with her own.

“What’s wrong?” She pouts, her tone mocking in a way that makes your body ache to be filled by her.

“You know what’s wrong.”

Her frown fades, and her replacing smile worsens your ache. Her chest heaves with laboured breath as Nat repositions herself, straddling one of your thighs and lowering herself against your skin.

She must have gotten off on your taste alone, because she’s wetter than you’d think reasonable. A slut for servicing you, it seems.

You lay in silence, looking breathlessly up at the woman from the bar as she starts ever so slowly rocking her hips. The sharp inhale as her clit grinds against your skin, made easy by her arousal that coats your thigh. Part of you wants to take control, grab Nat's beautiful hips and hold her down against your thigh as she rides you until her vision is tunnelled and blood boiling. The other part of you, the part that wins, can’t move an inch at the sight of the redhead using your body as nothing but a tool to get herself off with.

The sweetest of moans fall from her lips and into the air around you, a song of pleasure you doubt you’ll ever forget. You think if this goes on long enough, you could come from the sight alone: how her body moves as she rides your thigh, the bounce of her peaked breasts as her pace quickens and sounds get louder and skin gets hotter. If you’ve died and gone to heaven, you pray there’s no such thing as resurrection.

The jolts in Nats movement are a testament to her impending orgasm, she’s close, and you can tell. You almost want to buck her off you as payback for ruining your orgasm just before, but every thought of revenge is washed clean from your mind when she reaches down and slips two fingers inside of you without warning.

“You’re gonna come for me,” she bites, hips rocking against your thigh at an ungodly pace. “You’re going to come with me.”

It’s no request. It’s an order.

Nats fingers are skilled, she scissors them inside of you and circles your clit in tandem with her thumb. It’s a celestial experience, the devotion of her fingers inside of you, curling to meet your g-spot as she abuses your clit in the same motion. The sight of her losing herself as she rides your thigh to the end of her sanity— the mess of her hair and glaze of her eyes as he watches you.

“Come.”

All it takes is a word, and you’re coming unmoored beneath Nat. Black spots flood your vision as you drool a string of ‘thank you’ into the sex-heavy air. Nat shakes against your thigh, so deep in her own orgasm that she doesn’t bother to pull her fingers out of you, working on muscle memory.

You just reach the brink of tears, overstimulated as Nat returns to her right mind. You’d bet on giving her the satisfaction of pulling another orgasm from you, but she comes right and pulls her fingers away just in time to let you breathe.

The sun's golden morning glow has since passed, you aren’t sure how long you’ve been away in Nirvana. Nat brings her fingers to her mouth and licks them clean, a pornographic sight that has your glossy eyes wide. Sweat coats both of your skin, breath shared between you are laboured and heavy, and the sun seems cold in comparison to the heat of your skin.

Nat rolls off you, leaving a glistening mess on your thigh and a cold loss at her missing heat against you. When she speaks, her voice is quiet and gentle. “You were perfect.”

Another kiss as she leans over and pecks your lips. A goodbye kiss, maybe— or a ‘thank you’. She moves away, swings her legs over the side of her bed to get up and rub at her eyes, sleep still plagues her.

“I’ll uh, get you some water and find where I threw your clothes last night,” she hums. “The shower is just through those doors, if you—-”

Natasha Romanoff is stitched silent by the hand that grabs her wrist, and the body that climbs over to straddle her lap. Your eyes, dark as they look down at her and lift her chin to force her gaze. The low words you speak by her ear, poison as you parrot her own words back to her.

“Nope. I’m not done with you yet.”

req rules ⁞ request here | crossposted on ao3

[bamsara]

For the prompt thing, may I suggest, "good morning sleeping beauty" with moon? I think it'd be really sweet to have y/n finally comfortable enough to sleep near moon and they wake up to see him next to them.

(also, hi bam!)

Moon-Centric | Wordcount: 1,018 | A03 Version

Adjusting to living with the Daycare Attendant was easy in some ways, odd in others, and in some cases: just weird.

You've gotten quite used to a few quirks or theirs, or simple things. Like remembering you're not alone in your apartment anymore when you suddenly hear the TV turn on to the news in the other room or the sound of doors opening and closing. Or the smell of food cooking (burning) when Sun decides to try a new recipe that he may have forgotten that your fridge is not an endless supply of ingredients and you do, actually, have to go to the grocery store to keep supplying his new hobby.

There's the whole showering situation. The laundry situation (they don't need clothes, per say, but one of the upsides of being free robots means they can dress however they like now, so their wardrobe is growing) and coming home to see that your furniture has been rearranged for a third time that week because the Daycare Attendant wants everything to look just right.

There's also the sleeping situation.

You mostly wake up to Sun in the morning. Unless you don't, and it's the middle of the night, and Moon doesn't know the meaning of 'personal bubble.'

One evening you wake up with a sore, dry throat, open your eyelids and find two bright red glows casting back down at you. "What the-"

A silicone-coated hand gently, quietly, comes over your lips. You are silenced, though still sending a glare, to the robot that hushes you, hovering inches over your face. Moon sits cross-legged on the bed, tall body hunched over your foam. His T-shirt brushes up against your bare arm. The bell of his hat rests beside your head on your pillow. This was the norm for him.

You glare up at him and talk through the fingers on your mouth. "Whattyadoing."

The Moon does not respond, but his smile and half-lidded eyes tell you its an obvious answer.

You blink through he bleariness and look to the clock. It's about 5AM, not the middle of the night like you thought, but the sun hasn't risen yet. The space behind your curtains is still a blue, purple of a day not born yet. "How long have you been like this."

"Only a few moments." He talks quietly, voicebox in a whisper. Any louder would disturb you, and he wants you to fall back asleep. "You were stirring."

You yawn, and the hand brushes down your chin and to your neck, and lingers there. The bed on your back and warm blankets are lulling, but the ache in your throat is becoming more noticeable as you breathe. "I need water."

"I can get it for you."

"No, it's fine." You grab his arm before he moves, and he stays. Though a dulled look comes across his face, he returns to hover above you. "Give me a minute. I should get up for the day about this time anyway."

Moon's face twitches. Obvious disagreement. But the hand near your neck returns just to brush the hair away from your face. "You are getting up early?"

"Yeah." You yawn, and stretch your legs under the blankets. Any moment now you'll have to bite the tired and sit up. "Gramps has doctor appointment at 8AM, and we're driving him. Might as well get some stuff done and ready before we go."

"Hmm." His thumb moves to your eyes, and you close them briefly as he thumbs away the sleepy bits in the corner. He does what Sun does all the same, greasy hair and dried drool on your face do not stop him from petting you, for some reason. It's a nice feeling, if not too soothing when you know you need to get up.

The Moon clicks dully, pulling at the skin underneath your eyes (dark circles, thin skin with taut veins from sleepless nights and days full of worry and agitation. ) before a soft grin stretches on his face. "Good morning, sleeping beauty."

You glare at him, blinking out of synch.

"I never tell you good morning." He continues, unphased by your less-than-impressed reaction. "I only tell you Good Night. My turn."

That was...correct. Moon was the one who followed you to bed, but never the one to wake up with you. That was Sun. You never thought to wonder if they'd prefer to see how it is to switch. "God, you're corny. I hate 'sleeping beauty.' Makes me cringe."

"I can use a different name I have for you." Moon's smile turns slightly wicked.

"Pass."

"I can try a different way-"

"I'm going back to sleep." With one swift motion, you pull the blanket up to your chin and turn away, back to the animatronics. "Wake me up in an hour."

A low, amused chuckle comes from the static voice box behind you, and the presence on the bed shifts, the weight moving as Moon's head comes down to your face directly. "I won't."

"Mean."

"I'll wake you when the sun rises."

You blow air out from your nose and onto his face. It swivels, the ball falling with it. "You're totally preventing me from getting my extra hour of sleep, by the way."

"A shame." Moon hums. The face disappears from your vision, and the darkness of the room is all you have to see. Against your back, you feel the bed shift, and an arm comes up underneath you. The covers are lifted (not like you didn't help with that) and the space behind you is occupied now. Your legs brush up against star-pattern pants, a metal arm secured around your waist. "We will make it two hours."

You realize with faint defeat that you never got your water, but you're already lulling back to sleep too late to try. "Don't make me late."

"Hush." The other hand finds its way over your eyes. Moon's faceplate rests on your head, his t-shirt presses into your back. "Good morning."

"G'morning." You mumble, shifting backward further into the animatronic, and letting your lingering sleep take you.

[ironstrange1991]

Starting Over

Paring: Tony!Stark x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Synopsis: Tony Stark is the best friend you can have when you're struggling with depression.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and medications, depression, social isolation, suicidal thoughts (in the fic they appear in some ironic and deprecatives thoughts).

A/N: I'm not going to pretend I wasn't writing about myself in this fic, you're all too smart not to realize that. It's been difficult days, weeks, months and writing this fic has helped me in a way. There is a lot of angst but also some fluff moments. Hope you guys like it.

You were stuck. In life, in love, at work. The whole world seemed to be spinning, running, happening and you were just there, standing, motionless looking through the window, stuck in gravity.

You were depressed. Not just sad or down, but really depressed. After fighting depression for years, taking every type of antidepressant there was and not being able to get out of that state, you simply stopped trying. Depression was part of your personality now and you wore it almost like a battle trophy, a victory flag that you brandished as if to say: I survive.

Surviving became the thing you were best at. A true prodigy when the subject was to endure. You withstood the strong winds of life, endured through each wave of catastrophe, and remained. Even if inside you were falling apart.

To fall apart. What a funny way to say it. To actually fall apart it was necessary that, in principle, you had risen up at some point. That somehow, even if just for a little while, you had managed to let go of that sad and pitiful state, but that wasn't what happened. You never made it out. Once you got close, but the doors closed before you got through them. The sun set before you could finally reach it just like in that Marilyn Manson song. The same song that played on repeat now through your tv speakers as you sat on your couch in your small apartment on a Friday night after getting home from work. Your cat, Sebastian, sleeping lazily next to you on the couch, completely oblivious to your problems. You liked watching him sleep, he calmed you just by existing and you envied his innocence.

God, you hated Fridays. To be honest, there wasn't a day you liked when in fact you hated being alive. But Fridays were oppressive. They were like a reminder that the world was a living, breathing thing where things happened and you were on the outside, never a part of it.

On Fridays you would hear the conversations of your coworkers talking about the parties they were going to, the dates with their crushes, the family dinners, the happy hours with friends. You once heard a colleague saying that weekends are made for enjoying your family and you wondered if you would feel better if you had a family to run to.

All these fruitless and cursed inquiries would arrive on Fridays like an unwanted visitor and weigh on your chest as soon you close the door behind you and contemplate the emptiness of your apartment. Of your life.

I should get another cat. You would think every Friday night and ended up on the couch, like now, with a bottle of wine, a clonazepam pill, and the vain hope that one day maybe things could change or that one day you just wouldn't wake up on the next Saturday morning. The second option would always bring a sadistic smile to your lips.

Flirting with death again, Y/n. Why do you always end up on this couch flirting with death?!

You were distracted by your own thoughts, immersed so deep in them that the very air around you seemed thick and unbreathable when you heard the sound of the doorbell. You froze for a moment scared by the intrusion. The sound, which you weren't at all used to, sent a shiver down your spine.

There was only one person in the world who had access to your apartment, one person in the world who you trusted enough to give your address, your phone number, your friendship. And this person unfortunately had a too busy life to spend time with you. Even if he tried very hard.

However, contrary to everything you knew to be true, when you opened the door, he was the one standing there, dressed in jeans and a hoodie with the hood pulled to hide the majority of his face and a pair of sunglasses, although it was night. Tony Stark.

"What...?" You started to say, but were interrupted.

"Are you going to let me in or am I going to have to stand here and risk being recognized by one of your weird neighbors?"

You opened the door for him to enter and closed it behind you, still amazed that he was there in the first place.

You and Tony met at one of his science fairs. You worked for a technology company and he offered you a scholarship because he was enchanted by one of your creations. The rest was history. Well, in fact the rest was the only real friendship you had or have in your life, not counting the financial help that ensured you continued paying your rent when the company you worked for went bankrupt and you were fired.

"I've sent you at least ten messages all day. And I've tried calling you a thousand times." He ranted looking at you as if looking for something. "I thought you’ve died or worse."

"What could be worse than dying?" You asked, your voice sounding as monotonous as your life.

He raised an eyebrow but didn't respond, returning to where he had left off.

"What I'm trying to say is that I was worried about you. The last time we spoke you didn't seem well and that was two weeks ago."

You sighed, sitting down and he pushed Sebastian to the side so he could sit next to you. The old cat seemed to glare at him before getting off the couch and starting to lick the exact spot where Tony touched him.

"I'm fine. I'm sorry about the messages, I didn't know what to reply and I didn't see the calls because the cell phone is on do not disturb mode."

Tony sighed. "What's going on? Aren't the medicines working? Is there a problem at work?"

You shrugged. "Same as always. And I'm not taking medication, you'd know that if you read my latest messages, which you haven't done in the last week."

He didn't seem satisfied with your answer. "Why the hell did you stop the meds, Y/n? You  just said they were helping!"

You shrugged. "For the first few weeks. Then they stopped working like all the others. Plus, they don't let me cry. It's a strange feeling."

Tony ran a hand over his face. "Isn't this a good thing?"

"Not really. They don't take the sadness away, Tony, they just don't let me cry it away."

He stared at the TV sighing. "I'm sorry I didn't respond to your messages. I was away. I just got back."

You nodded. "Out of the country?"

"Out of the planet." He said with a shrug "Alien threat, long story. The short version is that I was there leading a team and we won. The earth is saved again. I saved your life again, I'll send you the bill later."

You smirked "As far as it's up to me, you don't need to bother anymore."

Tony made a face, analyzing you closely, but didn't say anything.

"Why are you here, Tony? Really. Don't tell me you were just passing by because you have no reason to come to this side of town."

He sighed. "I'm worried about you. I dreamed about you last night. It was bad, really bad. It made me think..."

You frowned, waiting for him to continue, but instead he pulled you into a tight hug like he was afraid of losing you. You were surprised at first, but then you hugged him back and that feeling, the human touch, was enough to make you start crying.

"It’s okay." Tony whispered in your ear. "You can cry. I'm here, now."

And you cried. In a way you hadn't cried in a long time. All the feelings pent up inside your chest seemed to overflow and you felt relief, almost as if you had carried something heavy in your arms for a long time and could finally let go.

When the torrent of tears finally stopped you pulled away hugging your knees and feeling a little embarrassed, but Tony somehow always knew how to deal with every situation in such a natural way. Sometimes you would catch yourself looking at him and thinking how you could be so lucky to have him as a friend. Good things didn't usually happen to you, but Tony was an exception.

"Can we turn this thing off or at least find something decent to listen to?" He said while searching for the remote.

"Anything but your old man bands." You responded finding the strength somewhere to tease him. He rolled his eyes, finally finding the remote and turning off the TV.

He made himself comfortable on the couch and leaned his face in his hand, staring at you and simply said it. "I want you to come live with me."

And before you could show any reaction, he continued explaining himself.

You shook your head in disbelief. "Tony, you're not responsible for me. We're friends, that's all."

"I have more rooms available in that tower than I have people living in them. Besides, it would make things a lot easier for me. It's hard to keep an eye on you when you live on the other side of town."

He seemed to completely disagree. "It's what I do. I care about the people I love. Please, just... consider it." He ran his hands over his face again. "This is my way of saying I care about you, Y/n."

You sighed heavily. The idea of ​​no longer needing to pay rent was tempting, but on the other hand, what would you do in that place? You would feel like a fish out of water.

"I don't know, Tony. I'm not your superpowered friends, I have nothing to do there."

He stood up looking around and heading towards the cubicle that was your kitchen, somehow completely ignoring your answer. "Have you had dinner?" He asked rummaging through your fridge and grimacing. "Y/n there's no food in here. It doesn't even look like there's a human being living in this place."

You shrugged. "There's enough."

He opened the freezer, rummaging through the packages of frozen food. "For God's sake, is this what you're feeding on?"

You sighed, slightly irritated by the intrusion. "Tony, fresh food is expensive."

He closed the refrigerator, took out his cell phone and typed quickly. "Well, I guess we'll go for pizza tonight. Do you like Pepperoni?"

You weren't hungry, but you nodded anyway, knowing there was no point in arguing with him. Tony might be the smartest person you knew, but he was as stubborn as a mule.

He sat back down next to you. "If you need money just tell me."

You rolled your lips. The idea of ​​asking Tony for money was always in the back of your head, but since you got your job you stopped accepting his help and didn’t want to give in to the temptation again. "I don't want to overstep the boundaries of our friendship. Besides, that would put me again in an uncomfortable position, Tony..."

"Then come work for me. Okay, sorted. I need someone with your skills..."

You rolled your eyes "Do you need someone to create software for you?"

He smirked, "Okay, you got me. But, we can think of something."

You sighed, the corners of your mouth turning up in a smile. Tony was so sweet, you could see an herculean effort from him to make you feel better and it was definitely the most amazing thing anyone had ever done for you.

"I would like to quit my job. It’s a shit job." You admitted staring at your hands. "… and I hate that place. I hate those people."

"Is there any person in the world that you don't hate?" He teased.

You smirked, "You're not so bad."

He grabbed your hand and pulled you closer to him. You snuggled feeling the pleasant warmth of his body and laid your head on his shoulder.

"In fact, I think you're the only person in the world I don't hate."

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders. "I'll take that as a compliment."

You smiled to yourself. “Yeah, as you should.”

He looked at his cell phone's display for a moment and then informed. "Pizza in 20 minutes." He grabbed the TV remote and turned it on again, this time looking for something to watch. He went through the streaming catalogs – from which he was paying for - and ended up deciding on a random horror movie.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes watching the opening scenes of The Nun. The silence, however, was not the uncomfortable kind, the kind that you need to fill with anything because the situation starts to get messy and strange. In fact, there was a certain comfort in being next to Tony, the intimacy that existed between you was something comforting and even cuddling with him on the couch, your head lying lazily on his shoulder, your arms wrapped around his waist, his arm resting affectionately on your shoulders, you felt completely at ease and carefree because you knew it was completely platonic. Tony had Pepper and you had simply given up on having a man in your life. Romantically speaking.

"How are things at home?" You asked, breaking the silence. "With Pepper and Morgan."

"Very good. Pepper has been taking care of the company and so she's been traveling a lot, but we're doing great. Morgan is doing really well in school. I think I've done well in life."

You smiled, genuinely happy for him. "Does she know you're here?"

He nodded, but you pushed a little harder.

"What does she think about me?"

"She knows what I tell her. She doesn't care about our friendship, if that's what you're asking."

You nodded, getting distracted by a particularly scary scene in the movie.

"She agreed to you coming and living with us." He said proudly.

You looked at him in surprise. "Seriously?"

"She also warned me that I should offer you a job if I expected you to accept the offer. Pepper knows people, she deals with them better than I do."

You smirked to yourself. "She's an incredible woman. I don't know what she saw in you." You teased tickling his ribs and eliciting giggles from him. You loved the sound of Tony's laughter. It would do you more good than all the anti-depressant pills you've ever taken in your life.

It took about 30 minutes for your pizza to arrive. Obviously, it was you who greeted the pizza guy at the door. Tony was terrified of any of your neighbors finding out he was coming to your house, not only because it could be fodder for the gossip tabloids, but also because it would ruin your privacy.

You put the pizza box on the coffee table and got two cans of soda from the fridge and threw yourself back on the couch.

Sebastian, who had settled into the small loveseat, was now staring at the two of you jealously.

You were surprised by how much you enjoyed your slice of pizza. It was the first thing you were eating that day, but you were sure that what made everything feel so special was the company. Any food, no matter how tasty it was, seemed tasteless in your mouth when you ate it alone sitting on that couch using TV to pretend a non-existent company.

"I could use an assistant." Tony said finishing his soda and looking at you waiting for an answer.

You took the last bite from your piece and chewed slowly thinking about what to say. Deep down you wanted to say yes, but rationally you wondered if you weren't crossing a line.

"You'll have your own room, which is bigger than this entire apartment. You'll have a good salary, meet new people, and spend more time with me. Something tells me that would do you good."

You smiled "I wouldn't know where to start. I don't know your work, Tony and I've never worked as a secretary."

"Assistant." He corrected.

"What if I screw up? What if I disappoint you?"

Tony touched your face "The only way you can disappoint me is by not trying. I want what's best for you and we both know that's not continuing to live in this place alone."

Immediately you glanced at Sebastian sleeping peacefully in the loveseat. "Can I take him with me? You know I'm not going anywhere without him."

Tony pretended to think about it. "You know he hates me, right?"

"He doesn't hate you. He's just jealous of me." You corrected him.

Tony smirked "You can take him, but he will have to stay in your room the whole time. It's not safe for him to be loose in the tower."

“Is it safe for me? I mean, with your weird friends there?”

Tony nodded “I’ll be there to protect you from them, don’t worry.”

Tony pulled you into his arms and you finished watching the movie like that, feeling safe in his arms and with a sense that somehow everything would be okay.

You sighed finally surrendering.

"Then the answer is yes."

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing ;)

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[sashi-ya]

𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 [+𝟏𝟖] 𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗! 𝚊𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚜𝚞𝚔𝚎 𝚡 𝚏! 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

⬥ Happy birthday, Aizen-sama! ⬥ tw: +18. vag, fingering, possessive aizen taicho. I included many references: one of his phrases in hueco mundo, poem 12, the ink because of his lessons of calligraphy, momo and the letter to momo, Kyoka Suigetsu's meaning, the "untouchable" aspect of his personality and the development of his plan. toxic aizen.⬥ wc: 2k

“I refuse to let you go” “Sosuke, you are making this way more difficult than it should be. Please, stop it”

Your knees carve into the wooden floor of his room. The sun hasn’t even risen in the Seireitei, and you wanna leave before it does. But he won’t let you. Sosuke Aizen’s reiatsu is way stronger that the rest of the people know about. He can make you choke with just a simple stare from his deep brown eyes.

You cough, in all fours, spiting on the ground and panting. You need oxygen. “Sos…Sosuke… just- stop this… you are gonna kill me”

He stands up from the bed you were tangled with him a few moments ago in, and puts on his glasses. “Don’t go. I told you, I won’t let you go” he says, almost like a child throwing a tantrum for a sweet.  

He stops that rib crushing pressure and extends his hand to you. You look up at him, with eyes filled with tears. It still hurts that he thinks is ok to control you with that. Yet, controlling you with Kyoka Suigetsu could be worse. But he said he never will… right?

“Why- why are you wearing your glasses after all?” you ask, bitter. You know his secret. Captain Aizen isn’t that innocent after all.

“Because- never mind” he sighs, taking them off. “Stay. I need you here” he replies, as he leaves those supposedly fake glasses over the desk where a letter that has already been written lays.

You shake your dizziness away and stand up with difficulty. “No. Why? Call that little girl you like to fuck better” you grunt, believing that you have already decided you won’t be next to him when the “treachery plan” starts.

He laughs. “Are you serious, right now? I thought you were more intelligent than that, (Name)” he tries to gaslight you while walking towards you in a peaceful but dominant way.

His hand surrounds your wrist; but Aizen isn’t hurting you, not even grabbing you strongly enough for you not to leave. “Jealous? For me? Are you jealous, (Name)?” he asks, then taking his thumb to your lips.

You are tired of always succumbing to his lustful, so sinful approaches. He is unsatiable, and you are the only one knowing such thing. Because for the rest, the sweet captain of the fifth division of the Gotei 13, could never do such nasty things to their subordinates. Right?

“Aren’t you satisfied already? How much more you would like to use my body, Sosuke?” you spit, venomously.

“Why are you angry exactly? Is it because I told you tomorrow night not to come? Or because you want to come with me?” Sosuke asks you, making you walk backwards until your legs hit the desk behind you.

You swallow. Truth is that, you want to go with him to Las Noches. And also, you don’t want him to sleep with that annoying one… even if, it would be only Kyoka Suigetsu.

“Because… fuck you, Sosuke. That’s why” you back up, being the only woman able to talk to him that way. He would never, ever, allow anyone else call him by his first name, and much less insult him. But he knows where all of this comes from, and he is having so much fun with it.

You try to look away; Aizen is barely wearing his lose pants over nothing. If you focus on him, your eyes will only fall into the trap of his caramel skin. If you look past him, into the wrinkled sheets of his bed where he just fucked you.

“Look at me, (Name)… you really wanna go?” he asks grabbing your chin in between his thumb and index. So delicately he makes you look at him, as he comes closer and whisper into your ear. “You want to come with me, then? You really wish to be a traitor? You will be considered a criminal by the Soul Society. Would you go that far for me?”

You close your eyes. Frowning in pain… he is absolutely right. And he wouldn’t do the same for you; you just know that. You know he will never ask you to trust in him, if you do… it is just because you wish for it.

“I would go further, Sosuke. Even if I know, you will never, ever, protect me” you murmur, accepting an inexorable truth that makes you wanna cry.

You can hear him gasp. Somehow, your words were… surprising for him? For a man who has every step planned?

Aizen passes his hands behind your legs and lifts you up, sitting you over his desk. The calligraphy tint spills, falling like dark tears into the floor. Your palms get stained in black ink, almost like traces of blood that hasn’t yet been spilled… the blood of your people in the Gotei 13. You, knowing the truth of Aizen’s plans, and hiding them, make you already a criminal to them.

In between your legs he comes closer, pressing his forehead on yours. His chocolate eyes, as sweet but also as bitter, can’t look at yours for a couple of minutes. Aizen takes your hand to his chest, place in where you leave your handprint.

“Who said I won’t protect you, (Name)? No matter what may happen… As long as you walk by my side… There shall be no enemy that can stand before us.” He murmurs, giving you the gift of empty words, you chose to believe in.

You let your head fall over the crook of his neck. The smell of his skin, the deadly perfume you inhale and feel like your body relaxes instantly; the protrusion of his collar bones that call you to bite; the tickling sensation of his soft wavy hair… so inevitably irresistible.

He plants a warm kiss on your shoulder, grunting and inhaling your skin perfume. His hands travel to your arms, pulling down the yukata you quickly grabbed from the floor to cover your nudity.

He scoffs, sexily. “Where you planning on going out like this? with my clothes?” he asks, as he exposes your skin once more. “You want the rest to know you are mine. Don’t you, (Name)?”.

The way your name sounds with his deep voice, and the way he so subtly degrades you to his absolute sex doll makes you shiver. Your cheeks burn. He is not exactly right, but neither he is wrong, you want the rest to know you are his, and how much of yours he is.

“Is not that… I- Sosuke, please” you beg, what exactly… you don’t know. “Mhh? What?” he asks, smirking so deadly, as he slides his two fingers inside you.

You throw your head back, biting your lower lip. Even if you are still sensitive and swollen from before, you want more. Your body screams for more of his sweet torture.

Aizen knows perfectly well where and how to touch. The perfect rhythm, the ups and downs. Your body is yet another subject of investigation, one of his most successful ones.

“If I go without you, who would you fuck if it’s not me, mh?” Aizen inquires you, with tricky questions that have no right answer. He only wants to have a reason to punish you, even if he doesn’t really need one.

“No- Nobody” you murmur, in between whines and little moans. His fingertips bury right on the spot, making your inner thighs to tremble and your lower part to lose the sense of control. Your stained hands make a mess of his back, with nails that carve in marks that soon time will erase.

He keeps going, fingering you with merciless pace and enjoying every little whimper coming from your lips. Ah, so swollen lips he attacks with nibbling teeth that could make you bleed. Just like the love you have for this man, painful but so addictive.

It hurts, but keep biting, pulling, possessing me.

Aizen rejoices with the juicy sound of your cunt being violated by his fingers but is never enough for him. As much as he enjoys control over you, it is him who is losing it for his own body. For some reason, tonight he wants so much more than any night.

Is Aizen afraid of something? Of losing you? Even a genius like him sometimes feels doubt in his heart when it comes to love and loss.

“Let’s go to bed…” he murmurs. Usually, he wouldn’t care to fuck you almost everywhere. His desk, the floor, the bathroom, or his secret laboratory. But, tonight Aizen seems soft.

You nod, surrounding his waist with your legs, allowing him to carry to his bed. It is still warm from your bodies, even perhaps a little wet. And now, it’s about to become stained with ink, too.

When he deposits you on the mattress, you sigh loudly. His topping body over yours always leaves you out of breath. Sosuke looks at you, with eyes that aren’t proper for a man like him. Eyes that hide a tint of longing, there, where you can only see.

None of you speak. Would have made any difference? Absolutely not. The calm before the storm is always the most silent moment.

He takes your arms up and pin them above your head. With his free hand, he unties the cord that holds the hakama up, offering you a slow-motion show of his hips being revealed. It will definitely be painful when his body won’t be here to admire no more.

The stain of your hand remains there, in the middle of his chest, like the hollows, like the outcome of his plan… There, where your fingerprints have been left, will be then something shiny and powerful. Something that, in the end, will be the death of him, of you.

“Sosuke… if this is our last night, could you please make love to me?” you ask, moved by the painful ideas you just had. Love, what a stupid word to name in front of him.

“Love…” he whispers, letting go of your hands. At this point you are sure he will start giving you a three-minute-long speech on why love is stupid, and only belongs to humans.

But instead, in total calm, he takes his hand to your cheek, giving you the sweetest caress ever given by his soul. “Yes, I will…”

Your eyes widen, and probably your pupils do too. Your lips separate, but they are immediately tightly closed by his overwhelming kisses. If this is some kind of hallucination created by his Zanpakuto, you don’t know… but you definitely want him to keep going.

His hips search for your open legs almost naturally. He doesn’t need to see, his own hardness knows the way. The tip of Sosuke’s sex grazes your wetness, dragging your fluids up and down, pressing against your clit.

You let your hands printed all over his back and neck, as you clench with passion to his body. His intrusion is violent, but it flows so perfectly. Mixing both in one, feeling his impaling lust.

You can feel the way his back muscles move on your palms, the grunts coming from his mouth. Wishing for some moments to be able to see him fucking you from away… as beautiful and dangerous to enjoy, as a flower in the precipice for so many… and yet, a jump into the abyss just for you. A deep hollow, in which you drown.

“Take me with you… I’ll do anything” you bargain. “Take me with you, or kill me”. “I’m… taking you with me… I can’t- I- yes…ngh” he moans, turning you to the side, with him still deep connected with you.

You face him, noses touching. His hips going in and out, non stop, both reaching climax together, in the peak of pleasure and lust. One million finger prints all over his body, like the imprints of a love that could soon meet the end.

His façade, in pure ecstasy, is like those famous paintings of the human world…

“Aizen Sosuke, you are pure art. Like the reflection of a beautiful flower in the calmed waters of a lake…But, will I ever be able to touch the flower?”

You are the only one, who has ever touched it, (Name)… because even if I become untouchable, there are stains on my skin that will never fade away”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤAnd the blade crossed your heart, but it didn’t hurt. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤAfter all, you didn’t need to betray Gotei 13…

taglist: @stygianoir @vexronicaa 💖

[rebelliousstories]

Family

25 Days of Ficmas

Relationship: Louis Pointe du Lac x Reader, Lestat de Lioncourt x Reader

Fandom: Interview With The Vampire

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Light Angst

Word Count: 910

Masterlist: Here

Summary: Claudia has requested that everyone get along for one night. Hopefully, they can make her Christmas wish come true.

Every Christmas, Claudia was given any and every present she desired. New dresses, dolls, fabulous art; you name it she had it. And since being gifted a mother figure, she only had one wish for Christmas. Well, one main wish. She wanted everyone to play night and have a family night in for Christmas. Her two papas and mama bickered constantly. Louis tended to isolate himself from the other two, but she never went without love from them.

Oh, they would pretend in front of her, but she knew that they would argue when she retreated into her coffin for the evening. They would try to keep their voices down in the beginning but inevitably, they would start shouting at some point. One night, Claudia hit her breaking point. Her papas and mama had been arguing for hours. The sun had almost risen, and they still were not done. Crawling out of her bed, she held her doll tight as she made her way to the living room where the adults stood.

“All he is asking is that you don’t bring Claudia along with you to hunt all the time, Les. Please, she’s an impressionable young lady and it’s Christmas. Will you please calm down for an evening?” Her mama pleaded, grasping Lestat’s hands in hers. He tugged them away sharply.

“Well, I think she should be going out. Experiencing life as a creature of the night. Why shouldn’t we when it’s Christmas? It’s not like god has forsaken us or anything.” He lamented, as dramatic as ever. Louis remained silent, which gave the young girl the perfect time to slip in.

“Will you all stop fighting?” Claudia demanded, standing firm in her place.

“Claudia, what are you doing up?” Louis finally spoke after a moment, coming to scoop her up. She let her papa hold her to his chest, while she continued to speak.

“I couldn’t sleep because of the arguing. It’s not right for you all to be this unhappy at Christmas.” She cried, tucking her face into Louis’ shoulder.

“Oh dear,” her mama came near, “we’re not unhappy. Just sometimes adults sound that way when they are passionate about something.” Stroking her daughter’s head, Claudia’s eyes became wide and filled with tears as she looked around.

“Will you please get along for one night? No arguments or anything. Just one night, please?” Her tears flowed down her face, and even Lestat seemed moved by the display. No one said anything as they looked at each other.

“Let’s get you to bed, little one.” Mama and Louis walked with her still in his grasp to her coffin. They laid her down, and with a final goodnight kiss to her perfectly curled head, the lid was shut. Walking out of the room, the couple stopped for a moment and stood in silence as they took in the gravity of Claudia’s words.

“Have you finally decided to join me once more, or am I too much trouble for you?” Lestat growled as they re-entered the room. She made her way across the floor, skirts flowing behind her to hold the blonde vampire.

“Les, we only want what is best for Claudia. But you heard her tonight. All out arguing is doing her no favors. Let’s just try to be more understanding for the season?” He stopped, and just stood there with an indignant expression on his face. Looking over, Louis seemed to straighten up under his gaze, with hopeful green eyes. Lestat held out a hand to his other lover, and brought him into the mix. Everyone was holding each other and standing still in the moment.

“I suppose we can put the debate on the back burner for now. I’d like to spend the night surrounded by my people, if that’s alright.” His tone was teasing,but the other two vampires were content to being there with him. It was a tight fit, but they made all three of the sleeping in the same coffin together work.

They spent the evening together, loving the ability to get back to how they used to be as younger vampires. Kisses were shared, as well as words of love that seemed to envelope the vampires in the coffin. No one called attention to the fact that this was the most Louis had spoken to Lestat in months.

The next evening, after the sun had fallen and the moon had replaced it, everyone began to stir from their resting places. However, Claudia noticed she heard no voices. No one was talking, or arguing, or shouting. It was silent. Tentatively, she opened the lid of her coffin and went to check the others. Louis’ was empty, as was her mama’s. Maybe they had taken off to go do some shopping before the shops closed for the evening.

But her ears caught something, that her eyes found next. Lestat’s larger coffin was emitting noise and was slightly cracked open. Tip toeing over, Claudia peaked her eyes in and found a sweet scene. Her two papas were wrapped around her mama in a sleepy embrace. No one had quite made the effort to get up, but all of their eyes were still closed. She smiled as she beheld them, happy to see them get along for once. Closing the lid back to where it was cracked, Claudia went back to her own coffin and figured she could use some more rest on this cold winter’s night.

[zukosdualdao]

to leave the sun behind

summary: the gaang is about to leave the sun warrior civilization after aang spends a few weeks learning there. katara has a goodbye to make. she really doesn't want it to be goodbye.

other notes: didn't come up in the fic itself but this is an au in which ozai never gave the stipulation that zuko could be un-banished if he captured the avatar, which is why he did not do All That. instead, iroh took him to the sun warriors. also, yes there is a work study joke in here. if atla can make jokes about not qualifying for vacation time then i can do this also! (i think i am much funnier than i am.)

It's their final night staying at the ruins of the Sun Warriors—not so ruined, as it turns out. They had planned to stay for longer, and Katara still thinks maybe they should—Aang has been training every day, with the warriors and with the dragons, but there's still so much more he could learn. With the comet still months away, though, Sokka had finally pointed out that there were people searching for them, and if they didn't want this secret, ancient civilization to be destroyed for real as Azula and company pursue the Avatar, then it’s time for them to leave.

There's a banquet being held in honor of their departure tonight. They pull out a large table of stone and set with golden and orange gems, and the rice and kimodo chicken is piled high atop it.

It's genuinely a lovely evening—she smiles as she watches Sokka and Aang try their best to pretend the spices aren't getting to them, and as Toph answers questions about badgermoles from Iroh—but Katara can't help but notice someone missing and ducks out a little early, making an excuse out of an imaginary headache.

Really, though, Katara is making her way to a familiar room of stone, preparing to say a final goodbye to the Sun Warriors' apprentice.

When she and the others first arrived, it was him that found them stranded after Aang first set off a floor of spikes and looked back at the rest of their group with alarm.

The apprentice had looked at them with an unimpressed, quirked brow but didn't seem otherwise perturbed, reversing the trap and leading them to the warriors and to his uncle. From there, Aang had been judged worthy to study under the dragons and the warriors themselves.

Zuko trains with them, too, every day, diligent. All these weeks, he'd barely said three words in front of the others, but the second night, unable to sleep, Katara had stumbled across him late in the evening, practicing on his own. When he'd spotted Katara, she had reeled back at first—he seemed like too much of a loner to want company—but he'd raised his brow again, like a challenge. They'd spent the evening sparring with their respective elements, water meeting fire blow for blow, the blood in her veins soaring as they did.

After, they'd spoken until the sun was nearly risen. She'd regaled him with the stories of her travels, and he was mostly quiet, still, but when she asked questions, he answered.

Yes, he and his uncle used to be royalty, and his father was the Fire Lord as the Warriors said. No, he didn't leave home because he wanted to; he was banished. No, he no longer wanted to go back. No, he didn't want to talk about it. Yes, he'd been training with the Warriors for years.

Katara didn't ask about the scar, but her thumb ran gentle circles over it when she first kissed him.

Things have gone on like that for a handful of weeks they've been here, sparring and learning new moves from each other, talking, and kissing, sneaking away moments in the dead of night or when the others are distracted.

And now...

"I'm going to miss you," she sighs against his lips after he lets her in. His eyelashes flutter open.

"Don't say that," Zuko says wryly. "You'll give me the wrong idea." He leans back down.

"Maybe it isn't so wrong," Katara says, a little breathless as he kisses down her neck. "You could come with us, you know." She pauses. Wait. That's brilliant. Then, Aang could keep learning, and it wouldn't feel like half her soul was being torn in half as she left. (How did things happen this quickly? How does it feel like she aches wherever and whenever he's not touching her?) "You should come with us!"

Zuko freezes, looking into her eyes searchingly.

"What? Why?"

"I'm serious," Katara insists, placing her hands against his chest. Maybe he doesn't want that. "Aang's learned a lot while he's been here, training with you and the other sun warriors," she adds, feeling a little pathetic even as she hopes the argument convinces him. Zuko now looks unsure and rigid.

"I'm not a teacher," Zuko insists, his voice sounding sort of hollow. "I'm not even officially a Sun Warrior yet."

"Oh, you are in everything but name; all the elders say it," she points out. "You're just not old enough yet. You'll be of age soon, and then you will be." Katara purses her lips as he takes in her words. "Maybe this will help. You know. Hands-on experience. Like a work-study?"

Zuko laughs, some of the tension bleeding out of his gaze as he does. The sound of it is light and breathy and lovely. Katara likes that she can make him laugh. She's only ever seen his uncle accomplish it, otherwise.

"You can teach Aang," Katara promises. "You're better than you know."

His eyes don't quite meet hers, but they haven't let go of each other's embrace. "Don't say things you don't mean."

"Zuko?" She uses her fingertips to tilt his chin up, though he still avoids her gaze. "I mean it."

His eyes swim with an emotion she can't name. Katara waits for his answer, hopefully seeming more patient and less desperate than she feels.

"I'll come," Zuko says finally, the words wrapping around her like a promise. "I'll teach the Avatar. If that's... if that's what you want."

She sighs. Oh. He thinks that's all she wants. That's easily solved, then.

Katara leans her forehead against his. Time dwindles down. It is just them in here. "I want you with me," she admits as his hands tighten ever so slightly against her waist. "That's what I want."

Zuko captures her mouth in a long, gentle kiss before pressing their foreheads together again.

"I'll go wherever you are."

[travellingarmy]

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✦❘༻𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝙼𝚢 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝༺❘✦

Ch. 2 - The Day I've Been Betrothed

Malleus Draconia x fem!reader

Chapter list + Summary

[Previous] [Next]

Do not steal/copy + paste my works and upload it anywhere else.

⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱

You remembered that day.. 

“Mn..” Soft.. The bed, it was soft and warm, making you not want to get up despite the sun having risen hours ago and blaring its light on your face. You buried your face further into the pillow. Ever since the war had come to a halt just shy of six months ago, it had been peaceful and you could sleep easily without a constant nagging thought of enemies breaking down your door in the middle of your sleep. Your home is still situated within the kingdom’s territories, but it was so far out– far from the castle and the main city– that enemies would have no trouble infiltrating it and not alerting the castle of their presence within the land. 

Sure, you had guards situated outside and inside the manor and even had your father who was a commander of one of the Queen’s troupes but still, it did not completely quell your nervous anxiety. You’ve heard what creatures faes were during on one of the tea parties you’ve been invited to and honestly, you didn’t think the kingdom would last against them should the war go on for much longer. Unlike faes who are all natural-born magic users, not many humans possess them, yourself included, so it was not like the citizens could defend themselves while troupes were stretched far and thin across the land. Speaking of, since the war killed many soldiers, your father had to gather some of his from the manor, leaving not many to protect you which only did nothing but raise your alertness especially during nighttime where you’re aware that you could not see anyone past what the light of the lamp posts outside could reach. Those faes.. If they have sharp hearing, surely they have keen eyes, especially at night. You feel a chill crawl up your arms every time you think about it.

You planned to sleep just until a bit before lunchtime, enjoying the peaceful time. ��My lady?” A soft knock was at your door, following an equally soft voice of a girl. When you ignored it to continue dreaming, another knock sounded and this time, it was a bit more firm and loud. “My lady, it’s half past eight now.” 

Sighing, you slowly sat up on your bed, the ruffling sound of your silk sheets could just barely be heard on the other side of the door. “Mm.. Come in..” Groggily, you finally answered. You rubbed your eyes tiredly when the servant girl came. “Thank you, my lady,” she said and smiled warmly. 

“What do you need?” You yawned and stretched your arms to shake away what the feeling of sleep remained.  “Yes, of course, my lady. I shall not dawdle longer,” she gets to the point and explained her reason.

“What?” You blinked owlishly after she had finished telling you. “The palace had asked to see me? Today?” You were surprised in all honesty since anything related to the palace is usually your father’s business. Besides that, you were still not of age to be handling matters of the court. 

“Yes, my lady. And the Queen had asked that you arrive on time– exactly 1 in the afternoon sharp,” she answers with immeasurable patience. You turn your head to the window adjacent to your bed and look at the rustling of leaves just past it with two black birds perched on a branch nearest to you. You were silent for a while. It was not as if you planned to decline order’s from Her Majesty, but you were wondering what today was for her to wish an audience with a baron’s daughter who has not made an effort to look worthwhile in banquets. One would assume that there is no chain of hierarchy within nobility, but they were quite wrong. It was a fight of popularity within the circle and you found yourself at the bottom of it.

—

“Huh, it seems that I’m not the only one who the Queen asked for..” You mumbled, looking at the long line of carriages outside, yours included. You peek your head out of the carriage window and find that those who have been invited were young ladies around the same age as you. If I remember correctly, they’re mostly unbetrothed daughters. You say mostly as opposed to all since you were unsure. You grew curious, especially after knowing that if you were told to come alone, it must mean that all these important daughters are without a guard either. 

Finally, your carriage rolls to the front of the castle and someone from the palace opens the door and helps you out. You had informed your father about the situation just before you left in your best dress. Seeing as you were going to meet the queen, you chose a red dress adorned in white pearls and lace. White pearls were also added to your updo to complete the look. 

But I guess the others also thought the same.. You sweatdropped at the number of girls wearing a red dress crowding the front steps of the castle, some flashier than others while some more modest. The questioning look they had on their face and the soft murmurs made you believe that they were in the same boat as you were; not having a single clue why you had been called so abruptly on the most random of days.

“Alright ladies, if I could have your attention.” The man who had been standing at the top of the stairs finally spoke loudly to draw attention after looking satisfied that all were accounted for. “Her Majesty, the Queen, is waiting for you all in the throne room, but I will first escort you to our great hall.” 

The ladies looked at each other with questioning eyes before shyly following after the man. You followed of course since you were one of the invited guests. With all these people, you had expected your audience with Her Majesty to be brief; maybe she just needed to ask you a favour. However, that proved to be wrong when you saw the carefully decorated hall with long tables on each side draped in a white tablecloth. On them were vases of  carefully assorted white and red roses and a few food and drinks. 

Even though you shouldn’t based on your assessment, you were surprised. It was almost like a banquet, if it weren’t for the lack of people. But you were pleased to know that there was something to eat since you had spent the last hour getting to the palace and did not have the time to enjoy lunch. That was one of the many disadvantages to live so far out of the kingdom’s walls. Although, you believed that you weren’t the only one that was famished; the look on the others suggest that they had fretted over what to wear to have eaten. It might have been due to different reasons, but it was certain that the majority had not eaten. 

“I apologize for the short notice,” the man spoke and then gestured to the tables and chairs in the centre of the hall. “I had assumed that you all must have not eaten so we had prepared you all sorts of food to fit your preferences.

“Please enjoy yourselves while I wait for further orders from Her Majesty,” he ends his little speech and exits from a side door tucked further into the room’s corner. There were slight murmurs before you dispersed. Some chose to sit while others stood idly by at the long table, but one thing remained the same: they all looked tense. Surely, seeing all these people must have caught them off guard. 

You wandered off to one of the long tables to see if there was something small you could eat so you wouldn’t be seen as a glutton. Although, despite all of the food laid out that was meant to be eaten, it had been barely touched. No doubt it is because they were too nervous. Understandable since you had this nagging feeling that you were being observed the moment you entered the hall and no, it wasn’t from the servants that came and went. Was this a test of some sort? 

With a small plate in one hand, your eyes scanned the hall for any abnormality, but you were disappointed to see that nothing seemed off. Actually, you should feel relieved if it truly is just you being overly sensitive. 

Still.. 

One thing that your father taught you that he learned while he was still a knight in training was to always trust your gut when you feel a predator’s gaze. Even if you don’t see it, this feeling of being watched that settles in you is not something you should brush aside. 

This time, you subconsciously craned your neck up. To the left side of the room, there was a door leading out to a small balcony that watched over the hall. There, you see it opened and although there were no lights, you squint your eyes at a particular part just past the frame of the door. You swear you can see.. Eyes? But they seemed to contrast the darkness behind it; it was glowing and unlike the shine of normal eyes when light is reflected on them. An abnormality. 

You stare at it long and soon, you see its eyes trailing. Trailing until it lands on you. ‘Oh!’ They really are real and just aren't a glass orb with a similar look of eyes. You should be scared, that much you understand, but when you finally look at it, you feel oddly calm. You didn’t feel relaxed, but you did feel like it meant no harm. 

After having what felt like prolonged minutes of a staring contest, the eyes vanish and you can faintly hear the sound of shoes walking away. Huh.. How odd.

—

You were all now ushered to the throne room just a few minutes after. “Greetings, your Majesty.” You all spoke in unison and curtsied. When you look back up, your attention was drawn to an oddity in the room which just stood beside the queen. There was a man standing there silently. He looks frightening. He was dressed in black head to toe adorned in silver here and there like his shoulder pads and the chain that held his cloak together. Other than that, the only striking features were the red crystal brooch on his cravat and his.. Eyes. 

You blinked owlishly as you stared at him— well, specifically his eyes. They were the same striking deep colour like the one you saw earlier. Was it him? As if to answer your question, when his wandering eyes stop on you, you swear you can see his eyes smiling musingly. Before you could dwell on it, your thoughts were interrupted when the guide spoke. At this point, you believed him to be the Queen’s advisor. 

“If you could please form rows..” He directs, gesturing with his right hand. There were looks of uneasiness passed around but did as told. When you got into formation, you couldn’t help but look towards the throne once more. This time, you see Her Majesty talking with the strange– huh? You blinked a couple times thinking that you might be seeing this but you’re sure you really were looking at pointy ears; not human ears. 

“Wonderful,” the advisor said and then offered the stage to the queen. When your eyes land on her strikingly beautiful figure, you feel your face warm in awe. She’s like a cold beauty.. Her eyebrows were naturally shaped into a high arch so whatever she does— or in most cases, whatever one does, she seems to always look down on people. 

“As you may have heard, today marks the start of proceeding through peaceful treaties with the Valley of Thorns,” she begins and you all couldn’t help but be all captivated by her stunning beauty when she spoke. “To keep the peace going during my reign as monarch, we had agreed to make arrangements so that no matter what, that peace will be unshakable.

“If you will.” She looks to her side—at her advisor— all the while having her nose still pointed high and to the front to show her superiority. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He does a quick bow and does the talking again. "Ahem. For the treaty to happen, the Valley of Thorns' Queen has chosen a representative to come in her stead."  

So he’s a fae, you thought. You’re well learned about the creatures that are at war with your homeland and something notable to know are their ears. You’ve been overly cautious of everyone after learning it and for a while, looked at the side of their head’s first. Silly, I know. 

You know how important this was and that you should listen carefully, but you couldn’t help but be drawn by the strange man who was talking to the queen with words you couldn’t hear from where you were and how low they were speaking. Normally, one would slightly shiver in the presence of the queen, but all he had on was an unreadable expression. 

“Very well..” The advisor looks side-eyeing at the fae just on the other side of the queen. When he looks at him directly, you notice his confidence slightly deterred, now speaking with a slight nervousness in his tone. “Uh– Ahem. These are all the noble ladies that you requested for.. Sir.” 

The fae’s eyes wanders over the heads of many until it lands on you, but you felt like its wandering eyes were just for show. That its true purpose was to spot you. You didn’t realize that you gulped a nervous feeling down. What does he plan to do? You see him now taking slow and elegant steps down the little steps that lead to the throne. 

“And what is your name, my dear?” Before you knew it, he was in front of you and looking with kind eyes. You stiffened up and stuttered out, “I’I’m [Name], sir.. From house–” “I don’t need your family name. To tell me your family name is to give up your life,” he interjects with a serious look on his face that tells you that he was indeed telling you the truth. You stood stone cold. You swear you felt your heart drop. 

He sees the look on your face but continues to talk, this time holding a hand out. “Your hand,” he said, hinting with his eyes. It took a second for you to snap back from your daze, blinking a couple times, and another to understand what he was asking for. While all the ladies look on apprehensively, you hesitantly place a hand on his palm. You had no idea what he planned to do and the cold sweat on your forehead was totally understandable, but it was soon answered rather blindingly. The moment your hand brushes with his, a soft light that seemed to come out of nowhere engulfed the both of you. 

Air gets caught in your lungs as a million images— a million scenes go through your mind. You also felt lighter as if you were floating— or to better describe your situation, drowning. Drowning in a pool of memories. It felt like you were looking back at memories, but you don’t recall having these as yours. Suddenly, you felt afraid. Just what are these..?

Before you could piece what they really were, you were brought back to the present with everyone looking at you worriedly and.. With sympathy? You were confused. Why were they looking at you like that? It was then you noticed that a single tear has cascaded down your cheek. 

There were so many ‘memories’ but one thing stood out to you. ‘They were all..’ You recall one particular memory and it alone gave you massive heartache.

You look at the fae who now stood in front of you with eyes just like the rest of them. And although it’s small, he is finally smiling, but also sympathetically. You wanted to croak out what you’ve been wanting to ask since seeing whatever those things were, but you couldn’t. You felt that the tears that were trying so hard to fight back down will suddenly have a chokehold on you and you didn’t want to cry in front of so many people. You bite your bottom lip as you stare in disbelief at him and that was all you could do.

—

“My lady.” There is a soft knock on the other side of the door with an equal soft voice. Normally, you would grumble incoherently and ignore it until they went away, but here you were, wide awake before the sun could have even greeted you with a proper soft, warm light gently caressing your face. 

“Come in.” Your voice is hoarse but is clear nonetheless. The same servant girl walked inside with a smile that shows how much she doesn’t know from yesterday’s event. Yesterday.. You hadn’t slept a wink when you recalled what you witnessed yesterday and it shows from the dark circles under your eyes. 

“Oh, my lady, you’re awake early,” she points out with a look of cluelessness. “Do you want to have breakfast right now? Your father is about to leave for his duties after breakfast.” 

“…” You stared aimlessly at the blanket that draped over your lap. It was only when she had to repeat herself that you answered with a quiet ‘yes’. 

You went downstairs with your nightgown and tried to have a normal breakfast and by which it meant trying to smile through the entire meal and ask your father about his plans for the day. He had known about the letter that the queen sent yesterday since he was still at the manor to receive the messenger so you had to lie through your teeth that everything was fine. You had told him briefly about what occurred, leaving out the small details such as the fae approaching you and.. ‘Whatever that was.’

‘I have no idea what that was all about yesterday, but I’m sure he meant no harm..’ Now sitting in the great chamber, you were now in a fresh change of clothes. You had no plans to go out today so you wore a simple dress and indulged in reading a book you had randomly picked up from the library’s shelf in your home. 

It was still midday with the sun still way above your head so you shouldn’t have gotten so startled when there was a knock on the front door. You were curious so you placed your book beside you on the sofa and got up to peek around the hall’s corner. One of the maids stationed at the entrance opened the door to reveal a man who dressed in a tabard embroidered with the card suits and a hat to match. Another of the queen’s messengers?

When he had made eye contact with you, you knew it was time to get out of your hiding spot and receive him. “My lady, are you the lady of this house?” The messenger takes his hat off and places it over his chest in respect. “I am.. Is something the matter? If so, my father isn’t here right now..” You said as you walked closer to the door. The servant steps aside for you to fully face the man. “Ah, you’re mistaken, my lady. It is you that I come for,” he explains. “If you will, Her Majesty, the Queen, has asked for your attendance relating to your marriage.” 

Now this is where you became visibly confused. You don’t recall being betrothed to someone and your father had made sure to tell you time and time again that he won’t force you into any proposals and that marriage was free reign for you to decide. You trust him so you earnestly believe that there must be a misunderstanding somewhere. “My lady, the Queen said this to be of urgence so..” “Alright. Just give me a minute to change.” 

—

You didn’t believe that you’d be invited to the palace again and in just a matter of hours. ‘Since the Queen sent the invitation..’ You looked out the window to see if there were carriages from other noble daughters but to your surprise, you pulled right up at the castle’s steps without any delay and got safely escorted down the carriage. 

“Ah, Lady [Name], we have been expecting you here today.” The advisor from yesterday was also in front of the carriage with a kind smile. You weren’t sure if you were growing two heads or something because while people do approach you kindly, it was rare and only happens during parties where you’d be forced to interact and the same goes for the others. It’s hard to believe that you’d be talking to the queen’s advisor. 

“Come, let us go. Her Majesty has been waiting for you for quite some time now,” he said smilingly and began to lead the way up the same very steps and down the familiar halls as yesterday. When you entered the throne room, the queen was sitting on her throne with a perfect posture. 

“Your Majesty, Lady [Name] has arrived.” He does a bow before turning his attention to you and gestures with his hand to go to the throne. You did so, walking across the long room all the while looking at the queen to see her expressions. “Greetings, Your Majesty..” You do a curtsy and stay like that until given the word. 

“You may stand.” You did as told and stared at her, your hands in front of you and fidgeting nervously. “Well then, I congratulate you on your marriage,” she said plainly. You were stone cold like a statue. ‘Marriage? So, it’s really true..?’ Your brows knit together and look at her with dubiety as if you had misheard it. “I.. Uhm.. You’re Majesty, could you have mistaken me for a daughter from another family?” You ask. You could feel your fingers growing cold and your heart slightly quickening. 

“You are the daughter of that baron from the far east of the kingdom, yes?” She asks, although she was mainly just pointing it out. “Ah.. Yes, Your Majesty..” You tried to find some confidence in your tone, but it was already nerve-wracking to be in the presence of such a cold beauty. “Then make no mistake that I have called upon you today,” she said rather coldly. How could this have happened? You were sure that your father hadn’t mentioned anything about you getting married.. And if that were to be the case, why would the crown need to come and congratulate you? Marriages between aristocrats happen all the time and not once had you heard about being congratulated by the queen.

You chose your words carefully.“T-then.. Who am I being wedded off to, Your Majesty?” Every millisecond she doesn’t answer, the more your head starts to spiral until you feel dizzy. “Why, to the prince of the Valley of Thorns,” she answers with a raised brow and adds, “You were there to hear it, yes?” 

Your eyes widened and felt a large, gaping hole in your stomach as if someone had ripped through it. You were frozen on the spot, not believing your ears. It was your fault that you weren’t really paying attention to the advisor yesterday, really. Otherwise, you would have made sure to not let guests come to the house, not even that messenger. You could have prolonged this news or even better, prevented it from not attending yesterday at all. You felt tricked, realizing how brief the explanations were from yesterday.

The queen could see the conflict in your eyes and decided to say something, “Lady [Name], I assure that you will be in good hands. The crown prince is amongst the strongest magic users out of all the rest in the world, which is why we have no choice but to go into a period of peace..” She grumbles lowly at the last part, but you heard it nonetheless. “No matter what happens, it is a sure fact he’ll protect you as written in the agreement.” 

You could only nod in a silent agreement. Before you could leave, she said one more thing, “Do remember that the Rose Kingdom is your home and so it will forever be open to you. I entrust that should anything happen, you will return home, Lady [Name].” 

You had only a week to prepare your belongings after telling your father that night on the same very day before someone from the Valley of Thorns had come to pick you up at your door in a black carriage pulled by equally scary horses. Where did it bring you? Well, to your new forever home of course.

That was the day when your chapter had suddenly taken a turn..

⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱⊰♤⊱⊰◇⊱⊰♡⊱⊰☆⊱⊰♧⊱

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[trigunwritings]

Vash x Fem!Reader

Vash slowly realizing that he’s falling in love with her and might even wanna marry her one day. Just him enjoying every bit of time he spends with her.

When the thought first crosses his mind, its too early in the morning to ponder upon it—the sun has barely risen from its hiding spot behind the horizon, and the sky is aglow in pinks and oranges so beautiful that it’s hard to believe someone could die beneath it in the span of just a few hours. The land is barren for iles beyond where the sand kisses the sky, but it looks so peaceful at a mere glance. Strokes of golden dunes beneath the brief but peaceful dawn.

But the sky isn’t what’s holding Vash’s attention.

You must have gotten up early, possibly when the sky was dark and the stars still visible. You’re lightly dressed, but facing away from him and sipping lightly a drink which must have been warmed by the fire not too long ago given that the ashes are still smoldering. Coffee? Tea? Vash can’t tell, but it smells nice on the soft morning breeze.

He watches your silhouette against the horizon as the thought crosses his mind for a second time, but ultimately decides it’s better to pretend that he’s still sleeping.

-

When it happens again, the two of you are at a nameless bar in an equally nameless town—one of many across this stretch of the desert, if only because of the multiple reserves of ground water and compact soil that make it easier to grow small patches of crops. Not easy, but easier; there’s always a difference.

But it means the town is lively and the booze is all too easy to get ahold of. Vash never intended for the two of you to get tipsy, but you’re giggling at his stupid jokes all the same with a soft smile that never quite leaves your lips.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, but Vash feels his heart race for the entire evening, even when he finally retires to his rented bed, and tries not to think of you in the room next door and how nice it might be to sleep beside you.

He fails spectacularly and barely gets a moment of rest in the entire night.

-

It’s almost too easy to ignore his injury. Given that his body is more scars than smooth flesh, Vash can ignore a majority of the pain flashing and flaring across his thoughts. It was a small bullet, and it had just barely caught the side of his abdomen—missed anything important, but there was still so much blood to deal with.

He tries to assure you that he’s okay, but it doesn’t help; you fuss over him with hands grasping at his coat, tugging off his layers of clothes until fear is gripping harder around Vash’s heart than the pain of being shot. But before he can say anything, before he can even prepare himself for the inevitable disgust-laced pity sure to come over your eyes, your hands are already tearing apart strips of cloth from anything you can spare to destroy off your own body.

Don’t you notice? Don’t you see? The countless marks, the poorly-healed wounds and broken bones of a man who would barely keep his own mind and body together.

Still, the look across your tear-filled eyes is nothing short of desperate and miserable, voice muddled with sobs as you try to assure Vash that he’s going to be okay, even as your hands are stained with his blood soaking through all the layers of makeshift gauze.

And Vash—the one who is injured, the one who should arguably be the most concerned in the situation—can only feel one thing as he watches you cry for him.

The pain is dull and distant in comparison.

-

“I love you.”

Vash blinks, taken a bit by surprise when the words leaves your lips. It takes a few moments for him to fully comprehend what you’ve said, and a few moments more to react to it—his eyes widen and his heart starts to race just like that one drunken night together, only this time he can’t blame the alcohol.

You look so scared. Eyes flickering across the ground as if unable to meet his, your hands twisting together so tight that he’s almost worried that you’ll hurt yourself without meaning to.

But the words, they echo over and over themselves within his mind.

And this time, the response comes from him all too easily. It’s natural and instinctive, blooming forth like a flower as it drinks up the sunlight. No longer idle thoughts, no longer ignored, no longer denied.

“I love you too.”

And he wants to keep repeating it forever.

[preciouslandmermaid]

🕸🕷 Free Fall 🕸🕷

Pairing: Insomniac Peter Parker/Spider-Man x Fem!Reader (code name: “Huntress” + she is Kraven's daughter)

Rating: T (there are mentions to Kraven's abuse toward his children, but nothing described.)

Prompt: It was strange to touch each other without one of them dying, but maybe touch was also something for the living.

This is a drabble for the enemies-to-lovers fic that I haven’t written (and idk if I will write it). This takes place after the events of Spider-Man 2.

tags: angst, pov second person, no use of Y/N, no hurt/some comfort, unhinged fmc lmao

🕷🕷 ( read on ao3 ) 🕷🕷

New York City :: 4:25AM

Your legs dangle from the edge of the building, but the height doesn’t terrify you—never has, never could—not with Kraven as your father. Your necklace emanates a soft click-click-clack as the wind knocks its animal teeth together. For each kill, your father once said, take a trophy with you. Their coat, their teeth, their claws and wear it with pride, Huntress. You press your thumb into the tip of the largest canine tooth.

You think, what’s the point of collecting a trophy when I have no one to share the victory with?

Lower Manhattan sleeps fitfully below you. Three police cars, one ambulance, and groups of tiny black dots like fleas jumping on the back of a tremendous gray-skinned beast. You wonder where the fleas are going. Home? Work? To their lovers and friends? Something akin to loneliness bites at your heels and you stubbornly kick it away.

How can you be lonely in a city of millions? You twirl the canine tooth in your grip. Snow flurries drift through the sky like dandruff and the crystallized air scraping through your nasal cavities reminds you of home. Or whatever you could call a ‘home’. Kraven had home-bases, with all the luxury and technology money could afford, but they forever lacked warmth.

I should leave this city, the traffic lights below switch to red and a car screeches to a stop, I should leave…

An influx of cold air hits your spine followed by the sound of someone’s feet touching the rooftop.

“Hey, this doesn’t look like Barcelona,” Spider-Man says casually.

He’s referring to your last conversation---“there’s nothing left for me here. I’m relocating.” When Spider-Man asked where, you said “Barcelona, obviously.”Granted, your tone wasn’t as cauterizing as you wanted. You were bleeding out thanks to the Symbiote that speared you through the collarbone and it’s difficult to be snarky when your vision is doubled and your brain is on fire.

“Plane’s delayed,” you toss the words over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of him. The sun hasn’t risen and all the artificial light reflecting from skyscraper windows paints Spider-Man in an interesting arrangement of shadowy grays and muted red. You recall the not-so-distant time when you hunted him. All the tricks you played, all the injuries you gave each other, and you have nothing to show for it.

You release the tooth from between your fingers and it knocks against the others. What trophy would I take from the spider anyway? You return your focus to the fleas and machines between the gap in your feet. A piece of his suit, perhaps. You search within for the rage, the anger that typically fueled you, the desire to hunt that Kraven taught you—instilled in you—through his cruel voice and crueler hands.

Yet, no rage comes to greet you with its fiery white-hot grip. You find stark emptiness akin to the featureless skyscrapers that cage around you.

“Seriously,” he leaps onto the ledge beside you, “there is a place for you in New York, I mean, you’ve met Tombstone, and Martin Li, you could help at FEAST or--” he makes a plaintive gesture with his hand, “there’s other places for you.”

You clench your jaw and create a low ‘hmm’ sound with the back of your throat. His eyes burn into your cheek. Why haven’t I left yet? You could’ve at any moment after Kraven’s death.

You had a complicated relationship with your father. On the one hand, you wanted him to find a worthy opponent and achieve his ‘warrior’s death’, but on the other hand—you wanted to be that warrior. You stayed in New York to kill Venom because he killed Kraven before you could. But then...well...that didn’t work out, now did it? Venom was dead. Kraven was dead. The vultures and crows were circling, circling, circling, and if you were smart then you’d get out before they started plucking out your eyes.

“You know anyone in need of a big game hunter?”

“You’re more than that.”

Your gaze slices toward Spider-Man. His lenses widen. You don’t say anything and let him stew in the uncomfortable silence. How dare he presume to know you? The gall of these heroes. You are what Kraven made you to be. A hunter. A killer. A panther stalking through humid forests, a polar bear staining its white fur red, a sharpened blade sinking between the ribs and puncturing a lung.

You recall the wheezing, rattled breath leaving Spider-Man’s lips. His blood on your hands, staining your palms crimson, drying rusty on your wrists. ‘Gotcha’ you had said before he kicked you in the chest with both feet and sent you into the wall. He was flexible and fast, you’d give him that. An almost worthy opponent.

A true worthy opponent would’ve killed you, you think.

“I saw your notes in Kraven’s study,” he says it quietly, like it’s a secret, and your shoulders bristle close to your ears.

“What about it?” You snap, annoyance corrodes your tone and hides the soft and vulnerable parts of you. My worthless notes. Saving no one. Healing nothing.

“Oncology isn’t an easy field of study,” if he’s trying to convince you of your goodness then he is destined to fail. Your motivations for studying tumors and cancer were inherently selfish. You were trying to save your father—as cruel, and mean, and abusive as he was—you tried to save him. That wasn’t virtue at work. It was fear.

You were afraid of a world without Kraven. A world without purpose, without something to prove, without something to overcome. Kraven never loved you—never could. But he gave you a reason to live, to fight, to thrive against all odds.

You wanted to kill him with your own hands and you wanted him alive. A paradox, you know, but your relationship to your parent’s was an unsolved Rubik's cube, a labyrinth of missed opportunities. You grew up in a home made of kerosene and lit matches. What do you say to a child who grew up breathing smoke? And how can you expect them to live in the clean, fresh-air? You catch a snowflake on your thumb.

“Those notes could help someone,” he continues, gesturing, his voice growing more animated the more he spoke, “I glanced at them and I’m not saying I’m an expert, but they were thorough and they were--”

you cut in, “useless.”

“I know a guy--”

“I’m sure you do, friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

Spider-Man continues, unperturbed by your interruptions, “he’s continuing the Emily-May foundation on a much, much smaller scale. Maybe he could use the notes. Maybe it could help someone.”

“Or maybe it winds up in a drawer, or in a box somewhere, and is eaten by rats.”

Spider-Man huffs, “he doesn’t have rats!” A thoughtful pause, “at least, I don’t think so.”

“It’s New York,” you roll your eyes, “there are rats everywhere.”

The silence slips into the space between you, but it’s not uncomfortable or cold. It’s just there. Like the dusting of snowflakes coating the ledge. This is the longest you’ve ever spoken to him without trying to maul him. You watch him out of the corner of your eye, waiting for an attack, but his body language is relaxed. His elbows rest on his knees, his sinewy yet lanky arms, and supplicant bowed spine. You trace the curve of his throat with your eyes.

Kraven would tell you to strike. He’d say to take a tooth hanging from your necklace and ram it into his jugular. But Kraven is gone.

Why am I here?

Spider-Man stands, “can I show you something?” he extends his hand toward you and his long fingers curl slightly as they await your hand.

Your heartbeat is loud in your ears; loud, and hot, and claustrophobic and begging you to say ‘no’. Toss the spider from the ledge. Reassert your status as his enemy. Remind him of the blood you’ve spilled from his body. Reignite the animosity between you. It would be so simple. Like lighting a match in a house of gasoline.

But, you’re so tired of inhaling smoke.

Your hand slides into his. It’s solid and warm. His fingers encase yours and bring you close.

It’s strange to touch each other without one of you dying, but maybe touch is also something for the living.

“Hang on,” he mutters before the space between your bodies vanishes.

You dig your fingertips into the strong sinew of his shoulder as cold wind whistles through your ears. The skyscrapers and snowfall dim into smears of chrome and white, the noise of the city deafens, and you feel Spider-Man’s heartbeat against your own.

Your feet hit solid ground. The air tastes colder, thinner.

“Just in time,” Spider-Man says.

You open your eyes. You’re standing in a sea of roiling clouds. You look below, seeking the maze of streets and honking taxi cabs, but fluffy, blue-gray cotton greets you instead. You’re above it all. Above the constant noise, the mesmerizing traffic lights, and warm bagel shops, and kitschy tourist stalls. It’s dizzying.

A spark hits the horizon. An orange light, a tiny flame, and illuminates the clouds into a pastel landscape of pink hues. Your breath catches. Your fingertips tighten on his shoulders. The sun pushes from the clouds like a seed emerging from soil and the clouds ignite. You can’t feel the warmth of the sun, but you see it in every stroke of color, against every bulbous mound of cloud.

Spider-Man’s arm hasn’t left your waist.

Maybe touch isn’t meant to always be sharp and serrated and bloody.

“Give me your friend’s number,” you don’t turn your face away from the sunrise.

“Sure, yeah, of course,” his voice is warm, “no problem.”

A gentle orange and pink hue bleeds out; like sliced grape fruit, or a flock of flamingo feathers, or a painting done by a child with an enthusiasm for warm-tones.

“Does that – I mean – are you staying?”

“Hmm,” you step out of his embrace, “catch me and I’ll stay.”

His lenses widen, “w-what?”

You drop sideways into the cotton-candy colored clouds with laughter bubbling up from your throat.

You place one hand on the grappling hook at your waist—just in case.

He catches you.

And you stay.

[cerise-on-top]

Hey! It's me again, I've been a little needy these days and I'd like to make a request, something really cute.

Valeria, Farah and Kate.

Like, they spent the night with you having fun at home, but in the morning they had to leave for work without even having time to say goodbye, but before leaving there was a noticeable mess that remained in the house, a tremendous mess. But when they arrive late from work, they find the house shining completely clean, and soon they find the reader sleeping in the living room with the TV on, but still sleeping peacefully, because her tiredness does not allow her to stay awake to receive them.

(I would love to be spoiled by Valéria in exchange for being her housewife)

I think this scenario is so cute and I love your writing, and sorry if something is wrong, I'm using the translator again. Kisses and have a great day. <3

Hey! That's a really cute idea! Sorry this is short, I'm just really tired again tonight!

Valeria, Farah and Laswell Finding Reader Asleep

Valeria: She’s not particularly surprised to find you asleep, she usually comes home extremely late at night. However, the sight warms her heart every time. Stands in the doorway for a few seconds, watching your chest rise and fall as you sleep, a small smile on her face. It’s only afterwards that she realizes you’ve cleaned your shared home. Valeria will sigh a bit, the home was in complete disarray when she left, so it must have taken a while for you to clean it all up. No wonder you’re asleep. Although she may not be the tallest person, Valeria is strong, so she’ll pick you up and carry you to your bedroom, giving you a kiss on your forehead. During these moments she loves nothing more than to hold you, even if she normally isn’t a very touchy feely person. But something about you being asleep in her arms as she carries you, completely vulnerable, just gets to her. However, it won’t be long before Valeria goes to bed herself, getting ready for such a thing, she’s tired as well. The day after she’ll spoil you rotten, though. You’ve earned a nice reward for being such a good spouse for her, and so she’ll take you on a fancy date. Or maybe, since you’ve cleaned your home so nicely, she’ll just stay home with you to cook a good meal together. The choice can wait, she’ll just ask you later.

Farah: She’d be ecstatic to see you’ve cleaned your home. It must have been a long and boring task, but she truly does appreciate it. Like Valeria, she watches you for a few moments, thinking about whether or not she should wake you up. In the end she decides against it since you truly must have been tired. However, she will drape a blanket over you and give you a small kiss on your cheek, hoping to not rouse you too much in the process. Farah makes herself a small snack so she has had something to eat before she finally goes to bed herself. However, she doesn’t go to bed, she joins you on the couch, holding you close and nuzzling into your hair. While she may be extremely tired herself, she still daydreams a bit about how she could possibly repay you for doing that Sisyphean task. Anything from ordering takeout and paying to going on a walk during the sunset sounds good to her as long as she can show you her appreciation. Since she’s feeling very content around you, she might also start humming a bit, knowing fully well that you can’t hear her. But it’s just something she does when she feels comfortable around someone. Plus it helps her fall asleep too. In the end she’ll likely settle for something calm like staying at home and just cuddling the day away while thanking you. Or just doing whatever you say so she can feel like you’re getting enough rest and she did something for the household as well.

Laswell: By the time she’s home the sun has probably almost risen anyway given her line of work. Laswell would be dead tired, so I’m not even sure she’d notice you having cleaned right away. However, she would see you having decluttered the desk in the living room and be grateful. Although she may almost fall asleep herself, standing in the doorway and barely noticing her surroundings, she will see you sleeping on the couch and immediately think about sleeping next to you. Granted, Laswell isn’t a very cuddly person either, and she can’t sleep particularly well holding someone either, but she thinks it would be unfair if you slept on the couch while she slept in the bed. At least that’s her logic at the moment. She won’t even try to carry you to bed, she just wants to head to bed. Gets changed and stands still in front of the couch for a few moments before draping a blanket over you. Naturally, she’ll turn off the TV, but afterwards she gets some shut eye for a few hours as well. Only in the morning does she notice that everything is spic and span. Laswell will feel bad if you woke up before her and made some breakfast. However, she will make it up to you as well. If there’s anything you ever need from her, she’ll do it. She’ll have done it before as well, but she doesn’t want to be indebted to you. Gives you a kiss before promising you that she’ll clean up next time. Either on her own or with you. You did such a good job, she’ll likely get you some cake to show her thanks in the meantime.

[ino-tamukas-baggy-sweater]

A Second Chance, A Father's Curse - Part 3 (Ryomen Sukuna x Reader)

I'm trying so hard not to burn myself out on writing because I've written and posted so much the past few weeks. which is a really short amount of time for me, also I'm going away for about a week which means I won't be able to write, so hopefully by the time I come back I'll be refreshed and ready to write more! In the meantime enjoy part 3 :)

Part 2 here

Warnings: sukuna is a volatile lil shit, possibly incorrect descriptions of disabilities? i did do a bit of research but also it's a lot of heavy headcanoning

Word count: 3.6k

“Have you seen the news?” “Prince Ryomen L/n…” “Why do you think he changed his last name?” “He’s part of Iqoria now, whether he meant it or not,” “Surely there’s an explanation for it,” “There must be, but he’s here now and he’ll be a great asset if he knows what he’s doing,” “That is true, I suppose we should just trust the King, if he trusts him with Princess L/n then we should too,”

There have been no shortage of murmurings in the streets about the sudden and unexpected marriage and arrival of the newlywed Ryomen L/n. It’s only been a couple of days, the people will adjust. You’re making sure that you take the time to walk him around the castle and actually get to know him before you take up the traditional clan tattoos that will bind the pair of you to Iqoria, of which he holds a curious fascination.

“What are the origins of your clan tattoos?” He asks on the second morning. A lovely warm day, you’ve chosen a light dress and a parasol to accompany you on your walk through the gardens. You look over to him beside you, the pair of you hidden amongst the bushes as you sit together on a shaded bench, “There are a few different opinions and accounts, but I believe the most popular stems back to an ancient era of the kingdom where curses were much more abundant than they are currently."

"One of my female ancestors centuries ago used ink to disguise herself and played pretend as a fierce and strong curse, almost acting as a god, and she led great numbers of them to their destruction to protect her village. Adenfast is said to be named after that village, but the original location is unknown,” You explain.

“Have they changed much over the years?” He has taken your hand and is tracing his thumb over the lines on your wrist, “Not as far as I know, I know a few lines here and there that came from specific people from my family tree because of things they achieved, but it’s mostly stayed the same,” You point to your wrists, the two thick black bands there prominent, “These were added by my great great grandmother, as protection for the young children in the family, two lines done at age ten and then renewed after marriage,”

He smirks, but it’s softer than it has been, “Interesting…” He murmurs. “How will you be incorporating your clans tattoos into mine?” You ask quietly, because ultimately it’s his decision, and you’re already fearing his answer. He just shrugs, “Not sure,” He looks away, still holding your hand, “It all doesn’t feel real,” He murmurs. “Freedom?” You squeeze his hand gently.

He nods, his gaze traveling around the quiet gardens as you take in the moment. He’s been skittish, he flinched when your father raised his voice at dinner the night before and you’d made sure to scold your father afterwards. You can always sense the storm within him, he can’t easily suppress his energy and you’ve had to deal with one other outburst than the one on the journey here.

He’d been here only a day, his sleep was restless and this you knew because you spent that night in the same bed together in lieu of the wasted night spent in a carriage. Nothing happened between the two of you, but he jolted the both of you awake in the early hours of the morning after a nightmare. The sun hadn’t risen, his face was barely visible in the dim starlight creeping through the window, but you could feel his sadness. He wouldn’t tell you what it was, he didn’t say a word, just allowed you to pull him against you and hide his face in your chest. His outburst later that day was aimed at Geto, who’d foolishly commented on his younger brothers.

“Does your father not see your younger brothers the way he sees his precious eldest heirs?” He’d said during one of your tutelage sessions with Gojo in which Ryomen was watching from the sidelines, and you knew he was deliberately stepping over a line. You thought Geto was better than that, but after this happened you weren’t sure you could trust him in the same way you always had.

You felt Ryomen coming up behind you and stepped to put yourself between them with a glare in your eyes before Ryomen could even think about throwing a punch, “Suguru Geto, you know better than that, do I have to tell my father about this?!” You had shouted. His eyes had widened and he’d dropped to a knee, immediately apologising. He clearly hadn’t expected you to support your husband. You suppose he held a grudge against the man for his actions towards you on the journey to Iqoria and thought you would share these reservations, but you refused to stand for it. “You fucking bastard, never speak of my brothers again, do you hear me?!” Ryomen spat over your shoulder, “My brothers are better men than you will ever be, I can fucking smell the hatred that you exude,”

You also didn’t appreciate the accusation that came from Ryomen but you let it slide, you’d seen his last interaction with his brothers and knew it still rubbed him raw to even think about them. “We’re done here, Geto I will speak with you at a later time,” You turned and herded Ryomen out of the room. His eyes held that familiar tint of red at the edges of his irises and his energy had flared to such a level that you’d taken him out to the rear of the castle, where the guards trained, and he had destroyed a wooden dummy halfway across the courtyard beyond recognition within mere seconds of arrival.

He was breathing heavily when he finally looked back at you, and you refused to look away or show you were afraid. He was in pain, and you needed to let him work through it and seek help only where he wanted it. “Let’s not tell anyone about that,” You nodded vaguely in the direction of where the dummy used to be as he returned to your side, his breath ragged and sweat dripping down his face and neck.

He nodded in response, swallowing thickly, “I’m sorry,” He mutters, “You shouldn’t have to see me like this,” “Is that your technique?” You asked, gaze flitting to the pieces of the dummy. He looked away and you didn’t question him further, you just took his hand and lead him into the castle to force him into a bath.

Back in the present as you’re reminded of the fear in his eyes, you look back to him, “Are you… afraid of yourself?” You murmur. He looks like a kicked puppy when he turns to you and your eyes widen, “Sorry! Sorry, I take it back, you don’t have to answer that,” He clutches your hand just a little tighter, his knuckles going white and his lips set in a thin line, “Yes,” He states, his voice shaky, “I am afraid of myself,”

“I’m afraid of what I might do to you if I’m left unchecked,” He continues, “I’m afraid of hurting you and lashing out at the people around me because I still feel like a caged wolf even though the reality of my situation has changed,” “I hope you can one day see me as home,” You say, putting your parasol down to reach your hand up to his cheek, “I know it will be hard, and I promise I will know you down to your core one day, but there is no rush,” He nudges his nose against your palm for a moment, “I am first and foremost your new friend, and I want only to be your strongest ally,”

He nods, “Thank you,” He whispers softly. “Princess Y/n!” The shout of your name shatters the small bubble of peace around the two of you. You drop your hand from his face but keep your fingers intertwined as you stand. A young maid around your age that you grew up with, Belinda, comes racing around a dense rosebush and comes to a skidding halt when she spots you. She bows for a moment, “Your father has requested your presence for the application of the L/n clan tattoos,” She informs you and you hand your parasol to her, “Thank you for letting me know, take this to my closet and we will make our way to the throne room,”

She darts off with the parasol in hand and you link arms with Ryomen as he stands again, leading you back into the castle. Once in the throne room, you’re greeted by the pair of artists responsible for both your and your brother’s tattoos, “Ah Princess Y/n, and Prince Ryomen, an honour it is,” The couple bow as your father stands and opens his arms, “My children, it is time,” He smiles widely, “See to this duty with dignity,” You curtsey to the tattoo artists before they lead the two of you to a room dimly lit with candles.

“As you aren’t the Crown Prince and Princess, this isn’t considered an extravagantly formal affair,” The woman assures you, “You may speak freely with one another while we work, there are a few rituals we will conduct during and after the inking process, but nothing remarkable,” The tattoo artists are specially chosen for their artistic abilities and their knowledge of cursed energy, as a reverse cursed technique is needed for royal family tattoos which are expected to appear to the public within the first twenty four hours of application.

“If you please,” The other artist, the man who gave you your wristbands when you were ten, gestures to the outline of a person on a poster you didn’t even notice at first on the wall. It’s not quite life size, just smaller than you, but it shows you the complete map of tattoos that you will be getting for the L/n clan including a back view just beside it.

Bands on your upper arms and around your shoulders as well as a large spot on your shoulders, two sharp parallel streaks down your abdomen with matching lines reflected on the small of your back, two broken lines that wrap over your shoulders like overall straps and veer up and then down again just below your collarbone on your breasts. You’d always known about the facial tattoos, the lines that follow the jaw bone, the emblem in the centre of the forehead that was said to represent wisdom, and the line over the nose, but you’d always seem then as quite delicate and symbolic of the fragility of life.

The tattoos hidden beneath the clothing were thick and strong, reminiscent of the ones on your wrists that were there for protection. These were the tattoos of fierce and noble protectors. Those who would risk their lives to keep the weak safe. Your family was strong, a fact perhaps forgotten in times of peace, and this reminder gives you a boost of confidence as you begin stripping down to just your bottom half undergarments. There are no tattoos below the waist save for a pair of thick ankle bands and the symbol on your forehead copied on both hips.

“How would you like to incorporate the Itadori clan tattoos?” The man asks Ryomen behind you. You hear the shuffle of clothing and then his hand on your bare upper back. Having to get really comfortable really fast with one another, you rip the bandage off and turn to him with your arms crossed over your chest, hugging yourself, “I don’t think I will,” He grins as he looks you up and down, his gaze flicking between you and the poster on the wall a couple of times. The artists exchange glances but you just nod, “Make it so,” “Your majesties, this isn’t a wise decision diplomatically speaking,” The woman speaks softly, her head bowed.

 “This marriage wasn’t for the sake of diplomacy so why the fuck should I care what my father thinks?” Ryomen snaps. You grab his hand, still keeping one arm tight over your bare chest, “Ryomen,” You say softly, “Ryomen, it’s okay, they’re allowed to be worried for their kingdom, this has never happened before, are you sure you don’t want to add anything? Even if it isn’t from your clan?” He looks into your eyes for a fleeting moment and then looks to the map again, frowning as he breathes deeply. “Can you tattoo a pair of fake closed eyelids just above the edge of where the lines will end on my cheeks?” He gestures on his face just below his real eyes.

You look confused for a moment but he clarifies, “My second eyes, Yuji always used to tell me I had an extra pair of eyes reserved for my brothers,” The artists seem to relax only slightly and the woman asks you if you’ll be getting that modification to which you reply, after confirmation from Ryomen that he is comfortable, that yes you will. The entire process is long and tedious, difficult, you spend more time squeezing Ryomen’s hand than actually talking because the pain gets to you after a while. He’s antsy the whole time, he reaches up and fidgets with your fingers and plays with your hair after his arms and shoulders are done while you’re sat up getting your back done.

“Tell me about your brothers,” You ask softly once the man starts work on his back, the woman in between the two of you tattooing atop your breasts and collarbones. “My brothers? What would you like to know?” You shrug, “Anything you want to tell me,” He looks up for a moment, “Well, Yuji and I were always the closest, since Choso is the Crown Prince he spent a lot of time in studies and learning how to be king. Eso and Kechizu are five and eight years younger than me, fifteen and twelve, both born with disabilities that prevent them from leading normal lives,”

There is an intense sadness in his eyes and you squeeze his hand gently, “Eso significantly lacks in his movement and coordination ability, the doctors would never tell us exactly what it was but we knew he couldn’t play the same way we used to as children, so we never played rough. Kechizu is hard to explain, because he was born with significant tunnel vision and a high sensitivity to light, and so hasn’t bothered opening his eyes most of his life, but also has problems with his blood. He bleeds heavily if he gets hurt, he bruises extremely easily, so then we learned we had to be gentle with both boys,” You’re sure your sadness is palpable at this point, but he seems to be perking up slightly just talking about them with someone.

“Despite the limitations in their abilities, they were always so lively and never wanted to be left behind if we went out to train, Eso spent his time describing in exaggerated detail the three of us as we trained to Kechizu, and I just remember them being so happy when my father wasn’t around-“ He cuts himself off, his lips returning to a thin line as his eyes sparkle slightly in the candlelight. You know he doesn’t want to cry in front of the artists, so you instead begin to tell him stories of your childhood, your brother and Geto, the young maids who grew up alongside you and now serve you, the kindness of the Iqorian people and the events and festivals you’ve attended all your life.

“That all sounds lovely,” He murmurs as he cups your cheek, tracing a thumb over the new tattoo just below your eyes and letting his energy flow through you to heal the raw skin left there. The gesture warms your heart, healing his addition to your clan tattoos, and you uncover your chest shyly to place your own hands over the newly healed tattoos on his collarbone, tracing the edges of the thick lines gently. “You know, now that it’s happening, I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else,” He says, his voice thick with emotion.

You blush softly, “You really do have a way with words sometimes, I think you could have been a poet in another life,” He steps into your space, half attempting to hide your exposed skin from the artists, “I think I’d very much like to be reborn as a songbird,” He whispers, his large hands still gently holding your cheeks as the artists begin their final rituals, leaning his forehead down and resting it against yours. “Then I could sing you songs of every kind of love every morning when you wake,” A soft glow surrounds the pair of you as you look into his eyes, the tattoos emitting the glow as the artists murmur softly.

You’re unsure of what exactly they’re doing but you know this is a moment you won’t ever forget, stood in the center of a dark room with the man you saved within mere hours of meeting him. Your new husband, perhaps the most dangerous man alive if Satoru Gojo’s Six Eyes are to be believed. But he’s here, he’s right in front of you holding you like a butterfly, bearing your last name and the marks of your clan because of the ignorance of his father.

The artists have left the room by the time you come back to one another, the glow slowly dimming with every second, but his hands never leave your body. He traces his hands over everything he can see, and everything he can’t, in an effort to familiarise himself with you and seek comfort in your warmth. It doesn’t occur to you that this is a little scandalous, you simply allow him to softly caress your skin, nothing but a hint of innocent desperation in the air. He needs this. He needs you to step into the role Yuji had tried his best to fill, his main protector and advocate, and if Ryomen needs to know you inside and out to allow himself to trust you then you’ll do whatever it takes.

“We have a people to address,” You murmur, still looking up into his half-lidded eyes. He nods gently, sitting back down on the table and breaking the trance, allowing you to search for the robes and bring them back to him. Simple white clothing, symbolising purity, adorned with green stitching, symbolising new beginnings. Both outfits are sleeveless, the straps thin and the neckline plunging deep on both your front and back to expose the main shoulder to collar tattoos to the air. Nothing can be done about the tattoos on your stomach and lower back, but the sleeveless nature allows for the arm and shoulders to be fully exposed.

“Allow me,” He murmurs, reaching for the simple dress and then helping you step into it, clasping it at your hips and just below the middle of your back to secure it. It’s oddly comfortable, it had looked itchy and uncomfortable on your sister-in-law but you suppose she just didn’t like the stares of the people. When you turn back to him he’s already pulled the loose pants on and you watch his muscles flex and relax as he slips into the shirt.

“You look good,” You murmur softly, clasping your hands at your stomach, “Are you alright?” He looks up, fixing his hair slightly. His soft smile sends a shot of warmth through your body as he reaches for you, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I can say with full confidence,” He starts, holding you to his chest and hiding you against him as the door opens again, revealing your parents, “That I’ve never been better than I am right now,” He whispers for only your ears, and you feel tears welling up in your eyes as you nuzzle against him.

“It is time,” Your father announces, “For you to address the people as husband and wife,” You steel yourself as you pull away, noticing a hint of red in Ryomen’s eyes as he looked down at you, but feeling nothing but strength from his aura as opposed to rage. You look to your father and nod, “We’re ready,” Time had seemed to stand still while the two of you were in that room, but the moment you stepped out you saw the day had ticked over and it was now the morning again. The rituals performed by the artists had prevented you from becoming weary or hungry, you felt refreshed if anything, and the two of you walk hand in hand with your parents in tow to the main castle entrance.

Geto is there at the open doorway, and past him you can see the courtyard and the steps up to the entrance are flooded with the Iqorian people. This is it, the first step into the public eye, with your husband by your side. News travels fast, you’re sure the Itadori clan will hear of his tattoos before the sun has set, but a small part of you holds no remorse. “Are you prepared for the consequences?” Ryomen murmurs into your ear, “There’s no backing down now,”

You squeeze his hand and then tug him out into the growing sunlight, walking forwards until you’re at the edge of the steps. The reactions you can see are mixed, but there is an overwhelming amount of positive energy flowing up at you. Your emotions get the best of you, tears slip down your cheeks, you tuck yourself closer to Ryomen as he lifts an arm to wave. “Live in the feeling,” He whispers, seemingly to himself, “Savour the moment,”

You decide to do just that. Peace washes over you, and you find yourself once again thinking to the future, the countless possibilities and unknowns. Whatever comes next, you’ll face it with Ryomen L/n unapologetically by your side.

Might start putting a 'fanart of the day' at the end where i link a fanart of the character in question (in this case sukuna) for you all to enjoy if you haven't seen it already lol

Part 4 here

[colossalcriminal]

One for the Money, Two for the Show - a.h

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Summary: The title of father looms on Aaron, and he can’t seem to let go of his mistress, and she wants nothing but for him to provide her with release.

Content warnings: cheating, swearing, takes place in s1 episode 1. angst??

Aaron Hotchner’s lifelong tenure as a family man begins now.

He’s got his wife, his baby’s on the way, a nice house and a big car, a true family man.

It was inevitable for him, he wasn’t the kind to doubt marriage or children, life would take its course and he would let it, and he was sure he’d never have the chance of interacting with anything that would change that.

This odd, perhaps even life-altering, wonder had arrived in 2004, in the form of a new team member, a pretty girl. Mankind's greatest enemy would be a pretty girl. One singular woman could be so captivating she could tear down industries and destroy the world's infrastructure, and he was sure he had met her.

He himself was fresh in Quantico, just in from Seattle.

"Do you need any help?"

He wanted to decline her offer, he really did, but the intoxicating scent of strawberries had taken over his brain, and he could not produce the word 'No'. "You don't need to."

Y/N waved him off, sitting down across from him, picking up half the stack of his papers. "No worries, I like helping. I'm also trying to make a good impression."

“Don’t worry, I think you’ve made a good one.” He reassured.

Several hours passed them by, the sun had risen in their hours of work, light was peeking through the closed blinds and it was finally Saturday morning. They were much quieter now, and she had moved to sit beside him rather than across. "Take a coffee break?"

The older agent shook his head. "If I drink any more coffee, I'm never going to sleep again." She giggled, pouring herself a mug before leaning on the desk, looking down at him. "You can go now, really, I can finish this off."

She didn't budge. "I'm not leaving you behind, Hotchner." Her tone was teasing, a smirk accompanying her words. “What was it like in Seattle?”

“Rainy.”

“Oh, I love the rain.” His eyebrow is raised. “It’s romantic.”

Their faces are close together, she can smell the remnants of his aftershave and it’s nearly intoxicating. “This is not ideal.” She whispered to herself, and he pushed his lips onto hers, and despite her initial internal debate, she kissed back with equal ferocity.

He still doesn’t know what possessed his body, nor does he recognise the electricity flowing through his veins when he touches her.

In the distance, heavy shoes hit the cold floor of the BAU as the pair sprung apart in fear of the new presence in their office. "What the hell are you guys doing here? It's Saturday."

Y/N downed the last of her coffee. "We could say the same for you, Gideon." She quirked a brow at her unit chief and the unknown man beside him. "We've been here since yesterday, literally."

"Since Friday evening, yesterday?"

"Yeah."

Gideon shook his head, turning to gesture to his counterpart. "Well, while we're here. This is Dr Spencer Reid, he'll be joining the team. Dr Reid, this is SSA Aaron Hotchner," Aaron nodded in acknowledgement, offering his hand to shake.

"I don't really do handshakes." Spencer said, sheepish, relieved when no one was offended.

"And this is Special Agent Y/N L/N." She merely smiled. "I just wanted to show Dr Reid around on a weekend so the office is empty." It was smart to avoid Monday morning's usual rush in the bullpen.

“It’s good to meet you, Spencer.”

"You both should go home."

"It's too early, the subway doesn't start up for another hour." She interjected.

Aaron looked at her with a softness in his eyes that would be difficult to decipher unless you were at the receiving end. "I could drive you home."

The woman couldn't get a word out before Gideon snapped his fingers. "There you go. Now get some sleep and stop wasting your weekend away."

It has been determined, every family man needs his young, alluring mistress.

She was on medical leave in 2005, Adrien Bale’s warehouse bombing had done a number on her. He payed her visits, like any good lover. "How have you been?"

Y/N got up, moving to straddle his waist, he welcomed the intimacy, his fingertips drumming along her waist. "I've been okay." They joined in a kiss, him smiling against her lips. "How are you, Unit Chief of the BAU?"

His smile did not cease as she praised him with his new title. It was nice of her, too kind, as his own wife didn't celebrate such promotions. The higher the rank, the longer his working hours. "Better."

"You want something to eat?" Her hands travelled up his arms, soon to rest on his chest as he shook his head.

"I need to tell you something."

The seriousness dripping from his words, tinged with regret, had her pushing off of him and sitting on the other end of the small sofa. "What is it?"

His eyes narrowed from pure stress. "Haley's pregnant."

"Oh." Her mouth was left agape, just a little, until she regained the will to close it. "Congratulations, I'm happy for you."

"Y/N."

"I hope it's a happy, healthy baby."

Aaron attempted to take her hand, only for it to be snatched away. "Don't react like this."

"Act like what? I'm just happy for you."

“Don’t go quiet on me.”

It’s sounded like an order, and she was never one to disobey. Y/N scoffed. “What, you want me to scream and cry like a crazy mistress? Do you think I like knowing that you're going to bed with her every night? That you spend Christmas, New Year's, every fucking holiday, all with her!" He was quiet, and she stood, chest heaving. "All I get is office quickies and sneaking around on cases, because I'm the other woman! That's what I deserve."

“You deserve better than that.”

Her hands ran through her hair, clutching at the roots. “I’m the other woman,” She repeated to herself in disbelief. “This has been the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life.”

She was stumbling, grabbing her bag, she left the apartment and slammed the door behind her.

Aaron remained seated for a moment, his head in his hands. Her declarations of hate were loud, and clear as day, yet he found it difficult to breathe when she wasn't in the room.

Y/N hadn’t been around since then, not even at the grocery store, until Spencer’s faithful call.

"They want both of you back in the saddle. Medical leave's over."

Her and Gideon exchange tentative looks. “You're sure?"

Aaron smiles, just a little, at the hint of excitement in her eyes. "Order came from the director."

"Well, we better get started."

They each file out of the room, all except for two. Y/N intends to stay just to read the case file a little more, while his objective is to catch her alone for only a minute. "I came to your place a few weeks ago."

Her voice is monotoned. "You shouldn't have."

He seems unaffected by her response. "You weren't there, no one knew where you were." Her head tilts upward a little, flattered by his efforts to find her.

"I’ll send out a national announcement next time I go on holiday." The man plucks the manila folder from her grasp, just about softly catching her left hand in his grip. "Aaron."

"I didn't know if you were coming back to me."

"Don't do this because you know I'll give in." He comes closer, and closer, with every half second that passes.

Her hand is flat on his chest, halting him. “I was so attached to you, Aaron. My life depended on you,” She dares not look up at him, her gaze fixates on his tie. “Our affair had made me jealous, and I don’t want to hate your marriage, and I really don’t want to hate Haley,”

Y/N peers up at him through thick, wet lashes. “so please, don’t make me.”

His actions have a mind of their own, encouraging him to lean down and just kiss her like he’s been itching to for several months, and so he does. Because Aaron Hotchner can’t always do what he wants, but when it came to her, his Y/N, she’s putty in his hands, and vice versa.

"I miss you." He murmurs after they part.

"I know, but we can't do this anymore."

He steps away, and she’s the first to leave the tiny office.

When they’re alone there’s a potential to hurt a lot of people, it’s dangerous, and so they don’t catch themselves making that mistake until they’re outside Richard Slessman’s house, towards the back.

She’s on a call. “I love you.” The affections he hears pang at his heart. “Bye, mom.” He can breathe, she tucks her phone away.

"Everything alright back home?"

Y/N shrugs. "Yeah, she just gets worried.” She looks down at her shoes, and his eyes flicker to it for a second. "I didn't ask, earlier, how's Haley? And the baby?"

"They're good. It's a boy." Her chest inflates a little, he notices, and his eyes tear away from her silky blouse.. "I'm sorry, I don't want to-"

"You're having a baby, Aaron, you're allowed to boast." The grin that envelopes her lips was one that should been photographed, but he can’t ignore the way the corners of her eyes don’t crinkle like they usually would, or how her eyebrows knit together ever so slightly. "That's amazing, though. I'm happy for you. A boy."

Her actions contradict her words, she looks away, a way of avoiding the obligation to smile any longer. "Thank you."

"By the way," She grabs her handbag from the nearby ledge of the house, pausing at the sight of it before rummaging through. He recognises it, he bought it. A small stuffed animal is outstretched to him. "I got this for him when I was away. In the future, maybe he could look at it and think of his Aunt Y/N."

He chuckles, looking down at the toy in his hands, a little plushie of a dog. "Of course. Haley and I really appreciate this." She nods, unsure of what to say.

“I have something for you, too.” His is smaller than hers, it’s in a small velvet box and it makes her breath hitch in her throat. “I wanted to give it to you a while ago, I wanted to tell you that I was finally leaving Haley, that we could be together properly in the way that you deserve.”

She opens the box, and the ring inside is nothing short of exquisite. “Fuck, Aaron.” 

"But things didn't go the way we, I, had planned."

Her head is slowly shaking in incredulity. “This is crazy.”

"A good kind of crazy?" His features are hopeful.

Her breathy laugh is pained. "This is a crazy kind of crazy, border-lining insane."

A smile plays on Aaron’s lips anyways.  "This is it, my final, grand gesture. I love you, Y/N, I always will and I would give up everything I have for you right now if you asked me to."

She takes a single step towards him. "You don't mean that, because I won't let you. I won't let you do it." She places her right hand on his cheek, the other still holds the open ring box. "You love Haley."

"But I'm in love with you."

"It'll go away eventually, and I'm telling you this because I know you. You'll hold that beautiful little boy in your arms, and you'll forget about all of it."

The older man shakes his head, but not necessarily in denial as the surface of his eyes become glassy. "I'll never forget."

"I won't either, but we have to let this go."

“The ring is yours, you deserve it.”

Y/N shuts the box, and it makes that satisfying sound, and she drops it into her purse with a smile, and the wrinkle at the corners of her eyes makes him grin like a boy. 

And although she wants nothing more than to shout her love for him from rooftops and kiss him while August heat slips away as September looms on them, she readjusts her handbag on her arm and turns the corner around Slessman’s house.