#these are ever changing and will probably continue to change

[screampied]

sukuna never says “i love you.”

to him, the words are meaningless. he’s been alive for thousands and thousands of years, of course he knows what it means. he’s not stupid, but for some reason—every time it comes out of your little human mouth, his heart aches. you say it so sweetly with the cheekiest grin on your face, not a single care in the world. he hated it. three words, eight letters of pure rubbish. at least, that’s what he thinks to himself. for sukuna, he expresses his love in a different way.

physical touch. flicking your forehead, teasing you, saying things he’d never say to you while you were awake. that was his version of love, he didn’t need those stupid, stupid words. or did he?

“love you, ‘kuna,” you’d pepper another kiss against his cheek. he tchs, the audacity for you to do something so embarrassing. he never says it back but you know deep down he’s got to feel at least something in that cold heart of his. he just has to, after all you did steal his heart in a way. and he stole yours. your eyes always had a glinting sparkle whenever those words would come out and he hated it. his response to you saying you loved him would always be the same.

“yeah yeah,” he gruffs. or a simple, “i know..”

but— there’d be a time where he’d regret not saying it back. a cold, cruel time where it’s just you and him, no one else. except, it would really just be him.

sukuna had a hard time at expression his feelings. it’s not like he hated you—despite his rough, barbarous persona.

he didn’t hate you but he did. it was complicated. it was a struggle trying to put it into words. all he knew was that he loathed how soft you made him, he noticed his behavior would change around you overtime. sukuna’s voice was get more gentle, his shoulders would relax, and he’d always finding himself flicking your forehead for some strange reason. it’s annoying,

you’re annoying.

the feeling was love though, it had to be.

had to be,

so the moment comes where he regrets not saying it back.

it’s something he’d continuously beat himself up over for. because now, here you are, laid all out near the ground in his arms. all four of his arms held you in a tight, cradling embrace and he’s got an expression you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. sukuna’s scarlet red irises were blown and fearfully dilated. his thin nostrils flared up and his slit brows contort in panic and confusion.

sukuna ryomen was scared.

“brat. get up.” he murmurs, three simple words was all he said to you. three simple words but you could barely even hear them.

all you heard was a brief inaudible mumble. you saw his lips moving but barely any sound came out. your body felt crushed, the pain was excruciating. your limbs, they felt like they were on fire. getting up was the last thing on your mind and you’ve probably sone the most careless thing imaginable.

you took a hit for sukuna, a deadly hit that was powerful enough to cost you your life. it’s funny though—all the talk of seeing your life flash before your eyes, and now, being snatched into the inevitable end, you were starting to really see it.

“get up,” he repeats, and this time, a single tear falls right onto your cheek. you meet sukuna’s gaze. the king of curses was a mere mess right before your eyes. he was like this for just you. teary eyed and sniffling, he can’t stand this pain.

you’re being held in his lap and not once does his eyes leave yours. sukuna takes a while to speak again and it’s as if he’s carefully thinking of what to say. time was precious right now, but he didn’t wanna think about anything. his focus was solely on you, his favorite little human.

“can you hear me? say something.”

“you .. you’re gonna get wrinkles if you keep frowning too much, ‘kuna.” you hum, a weak finger stroking against his cheek.

archons, for whatever reason, that little comment brought a smile to his face. you were so annoying to him and yet, he wouldn’t wanna be in anyone else’s presence. everything hurt though,

your body felt scorchingly hot, your pulse remains to ring through your ears and you were wheezing a bit. “hey, hey,” he watches as you try to cling onto his hand. sukuna didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to say - all he did do though, was hold you. it was the least thing he could do. your hand was so small compared to his, his long fingernails gently tickling against your skin.

he didn’t have it in him to scold you for trying to protect him. as fragile of a being you knew you were, you did it anyway. you risked your life for him. sukuna let his guard down and you jumped right in the way without a second thought for yourself. that’s what love was, his heart bleeds at the recent flashback before a shaky breath leaves his lips. “this wasn’t supposed to happen. you can’t leave me like this, please.”

“i’m not l- leaving.” you reply, your voice weak and frail. sukuna knew that was a lie. the more you stared at him, how the look of worry on his face paints and marinates his features, he was really scared. you were his everything, his breath of fresh air, maybe even his one true love. “never gonna leave you, sukuna.”

and sukuna lays there with you on his lap. you seem still - too still. right before his eyes, he watches as your body’s temp run cold, final breaths making its introduction. everything was going so fast. he barely had time to react before he realized,

you were gone.

“no,” he whispers under his breath. the demon was at a loss of words. the feeling in his chest, it was indescribable. painful, and tight as he watches the light leave your eyes, something within him leaves also. a part of him. you were drifting away and there was nothing he could do about it. “no.” he repeats against, feeling a dull ache run cold through his body. sukuna didn’t know what to do. he’s seeing red, but perhaps that wasn’t just bloodshed and anger. maybe, maybe it was the one true feeling he was denying all along,

love.

his breaths become heavy once he realizes you’re actually gone. no movement, no cheeky replies, no random “i love you ‘kuna’s,” no nothing. the tear in his heart was enough to make him see the light with you. it hurt horribly, a lump in his throat builds up before he starts to weep. one tear comes then multiple shortly follow, landing past the thin fabric of his sown kimono and onto your lifeless body.

sukuna hated you. he hated how you made him so soft, so vulnerable, so weak. you came into sukuna’s life, stole his heart, and also broke it.

as his eye twitches, his smile had already faded once you left him.

for the first time in centuries, sukuna was defeated. his enemy wasn’t a sorcerer, a curse, or even himself who he believed was his true worse enemy. sukuna ryomen was defeated by four simple letters, love. not only did you leave him in tears, but you also left him with an engagement ring inside his right palm.

he was far too late, he was gonna propose to you. that way, he’d build up the courage to say those stupid, stupid words. opening up his right hand, he stares at the ring he wanted to give you way earlier before this incident even happened. sukuna waited too long, he’d actually plan this for quite some time but again, he was scared.

with a defeated sigh, he surrenders, glancing at you for one last time. no smile on your face anymore but he just used his imagination. there you laid, peaceful, almost as if you were asleep. taking a deep breath, sukuna gives you his last gentle forehead flick before finally telling you the words he’s been longing to say for years.

“i … i love you too, brat. never leavin’ you either.”

[joelscruff]

imperfect for you (joel miller x f!reader)

masterlist | a/n written for @janaispunk's 1500 kisses challenge! i got joel + nose kisses with this lovely moodboard and actually managed to write something!!! believe it or not this started out as a drabble lmao. i hope you like it jana - sorry it's a bit late, and congrats again on your milestone 🤍 summary: you never thought joel miller would accidentally call you baby. warnings: age gap (joel is mid 40s, reader is 23), fluff, very brief instance of blood, tending to a wound, joel is eepy, soft kisses, cuddles word count: 5.5k ao3 dividers by @saradika-graphics

"When's the last time you slept?"

He doesn't bother to grace you with an answer, hands clenched on the steering wheel as you barrel down the vacant stretch of highway back to Lincoln. He's been ignoring you for the past fifteen minutes now, eyes straight ahead, brow furrowed, jaw clenched. But he looks pale, almost sickly, the whites of his knuckles stark against the sudden greenish hue of his skin. The last thing you need is for him to pass out and for the two of you to crash into a damn ditch.

"I'm just saying," you continue with an exasperated sigh, "I could drive the rest of the way, we're almost there."

No reply. You roll your eyes and cross your arms indignantly in the passenger seat, returning his icy demeanor. He's in one of his moods again, the ones only Tess really knows how to handle, but you'd volunteered to try your hand at a supply run in her stead which means she's not here to mediate. You should've known some issue would arise, stubborn Joel inventing problems in typical Joel fashion.

"You could've tried to last at least one more hour pretending to like me," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. He doesn't say anything.

Almost a year of working with them now, and you still don't understand him. You're not sure you ever will. Tess, she's much easier to understand, much more open to being understood. She'd seen your potential and taken you under her wing, brought you in to help, taught you everything you needed to know about smuggling. And Joel... well, he's a different story.

"You know, Tess thinks I have promise," you continue anyway, expression crumpling into a scowl, "She thinks I can do this. I don't get why you don't."

No answer.

"And don't say it's 'cause I'm a kid, because I'm not. I'm twenty three now, I'm past the point of being called a fucking kid. The shit I've seen in that QZ-" you cut yourself off, shaking your head, "I'm not a kid."

His lack of response is beginning to hurt deeper than you'd really like to admit. You glance over at him again; he's still staring straight ahead, still ignoring your presence. It makes unwanted tears prick in your eyes, nose stinging a little as you peer down at your lap and fold your hands together.

You'd been excited for this supply run, probably against your better judgement. You'd wanted to show him how much you know and understand, how hard you've been working, how you're up to the task. Hoped maybe he'd give you a smile - rare, but not impossible - and tell you that you did good, that he sees potential in you too.

You care what he thinks, almost more than what Tess thinks. And you know why, can sense it deep in the pit of your stomach and in the way your heart stutters when he looks at you, but you're clearly living in a fantasy world if you think he's ever gonna get past whatever this stigma is that he has against your age. She's too young, Tess. She'll get hurt, Tess. She shouldn't be doin' this, Tess. You've heard it all, muffled through closed doors in a dark and damp hallway.

He doesn't want you, and you're not sure how much longer you can go on like this. If he's not willing to change his stance, view you as anything other than an inconvenience...maybe Tess will have to find somebody else to help out.

"I know what I'm doing," you mumble, a tear dribbling down your left cheek, "I just wanna help."

You spare him one more look, fruitlessly hoping that maybe he'll feel bad now that he's made you cry - a childish thought, considering you're trying to make a case for being mature, but you can't help it. You know he's capable of being gentle, of being kind. You've experienced it with him before, quiet moments between the two of you in his apartment while waiting for Tess to return, making small talk, him peering at you with a softness in those brown eyes that have since made frequent appearances in your dreams. Moments where you swear you felt wanted under that gaze, but it must've been in your head, because you certainly don't feel wanted right now.

He doesn't look well, you have to admit. His skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, getting paler by the second, turning an unnatural grey color akin to some of the hair on his head. His eyes are glassy, dark bags settled beneath them that you've noticed getting worse and worse over the past few weeks. You shoot a glance at his hands again and are surprised to see that he's loosened his grip, that his fingers seem to be trembling against the rubber.

"Joel," you say, raising your voice a bit, "Joel, are you okay?"

His lack of response no longer angers you - it worries you. Carefully, you reach over and slowly wrap your hand around his right wrist, eyes trained on his face. At your touch, he finally turns to look at you, almost like he's only just noticed you're even there.

"You say somethin'?" he asks, voice raspy, a bit slurred.

Your grip tightens on his wrist, "I think you should stop the car."

He looks at you curiously, dazedly. It's the expression of a man who's running on two, maybe three hours of sleep in the last few days. You choose your next words carefully, eyes flickering back and forth toward his face and the road that he's suddenly no longer watching.

"Let's slow down a bit," you murmur, thumb stroking gently along his skin - he's warm, warmer than normal - "I'm gonna drive the rest of the way, okay?"

You expect some pushback, an attempt at an argument, but the tiredness is setting in quickly. Without any hesitation he eases his foot off the gas and you hurriedly reach your own leg over into his space to push down on the brake. He doesn't seem to notice the way your bare leg brushes his jeans, the crease in your knee bending over the warmth of his thigh.

"There we go," you say softly, bringing the car to a slow stop. He's still looking at you, eyes unfocused as you carefully lean over a little more to unbuckle his seatbelt. You try to ignore how good he smells, how big he is compared to you, putting all your attention on getting him out of the front seat. You unlock his door and then unbuckle your own belt, hurrying out of the car to his side.

"M'okay," he mumbles as soon as you open his door. You start to help him out, and you think he's becoming a little more aware of the situation now, allowing you to pull him to his feet as you tug open the back door. "What's happenin'?"

"You're just tired," you tell him softly, "It's okay, you can sleep in the back, I'll drive."

"Bill n' Frank's," he says as you lead him the right way, pushing him a little and helping him place his knee down on the seat, "Y'know where it is? You remember?"

"I do," you tell him confidently, your hand coming down to press flat against his back - he's so solid, heat radiating against your palm, "Only twenty minutes away now, I got it. You just sleep."

He doesn't argue; in fact, he makes your job easier by crawling onto the seat and settling down with a low groan, rolling onto his back and breathing deeply. You can't help but let a small smile cross your features, watching as one of his hands comes up to rest atop his belly, the other dangling onto the floor. His eyelashes flutter a little, lips parting, and you're about to shut the door when he speaks again.

"I know you jus' wanna help, baby."

You stand there for a moment just staring at him, confusion racing through your thoughts. Goosebumps rise on your flesh as the last word repeats like a mantra in your head, steady and slow as Joel drifts off. It's only when the door is shut and you're in the front seat that you're able to put some meaning to the words, eyes wide as you stare at the faded lines on the road.

I know what I'm doing, you'd said, I just wanna help.

You leave him in the car when you get to Bill and Frank's, typing in the gate code with a backward glance at his loose form in the backseat. They must see him on one of the security monitors, because as soon as the doors open you spot them sprinting out of the house toward you, a scanner gripped in Bill's hand. Typical.

"He's okay," you tell them as soon as you're out of the car, instantly alleviating their stress, "He's just exhausted, I think he needs to sleep for a little while."

"Understatement of the century," Frank replies with a relieved laugh, eyeing the backseat, "Think we can get him in the house?"

"Just leave him in the car," Bill says with a wave of his hand, already turning to head back towards the house with the scanner hanging out of his pocket, "He'll be fine."

Your gaze meets Frank's and he rolls his eyes, "Come on, baby, let's get him upstairs." Your brows go up at the pet name, the same word that had fallen from Joel's lips only twenty minutes ago, but then Bill is shuffling back over with an annoyed look on his face and you quickly realize he's not talking to you.

Getting Joel out of the car proves to be a lot more difficult than getting him in. You try a gentle approach at first, brushing his arm and stroking his skin with your thumb again like you'd done earlier. You can feel Frank's eyes on you as you squeeze Joel's bicep, his wrist, his thigh, and you pretend you don't see the look that passes between him and Bill as you step out to let them take a turn.

Bill goes for a much more aggressive approach, shaking Joel's shoulders wildly and practically yanking him out of the car. Understandably, Joel wakes with a gasp and kicks his legs out, hand reaching for his pistol as he frantically tries to escape Bill's grasp. Before he can grab it though, he's suddenly falling forward, knees buckling as he faceplants onto the pavement beside the car.

Well, that certainly wakes him up. His hands press into the gravel and his head shoots up, blood trickling down his nose as he peers up at the three of you, stunned.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Bill," Frank groans.

"That was not my fault."

Ignoring them, you kneel down and gently touch Joel's shoulder, a concerned look on your face as you eye the splattered blood on the ground, "Fuck, are you okay?"

"What in the hell is goin' on?" he groans, turning to look at you, "Did Bill just break my fuckin' nose?"

"Don't be dramatic," Bill barks, spinning on the spot and heading into the house, "Shoulda just left you in the car."

Joel starts scrambling after him, rising up and standing on wobbly legs, hand reaching for his pistol once again. You and Frank grab him before he can do anything, both of you taking an arm and holding him back.

"Joel, you're exhausted," you tell him quickly, utilizing all your strength, "You just need to lay down. Please."

He turns his face to look at you and something flutters in your chest when you catch the way his eyes soften, the anger in his expression fading as he acknowledges your presence. You can vaguely make out Frank watching the two of you in your periphery, but you try your best to ignore it, instead opting to give Joel a reassuring smile.

"Let's just get you cleaned up, okay?"

You're grateful that Frank leaves you alone with Joel to tend to his nose. You've only met him a handful of times, but each time he'd somehow been able to clock the way you interact with Joel, the way you look at him. The last time you'd been here he'd subtly pulled you aside to give you a few words of wisdom.

"You do realize he's extremely unavailable, right?"

"I- I don't know what you're talking about."

He'd smiled, tapped his nose and given you a knowing look, "And I don't just mean because of Tess. That man is emotionally constipated, kiddo. He's an island." He'd laughed then at your confused expression, shaking his head, "Just be careful, s'all I'm saying."

You'd gone to walk away, forget the conversation even happened, when he'd softly called after you:

"And I'm pretty sure Tess would hang your head on her wall."

You think of those words now as you stand in front of Joel in the small bathroom off the landing, lip between your teeth as you eye the cut on his nose. It isn't broken, thank fuck, but you can see some dirt and gravel in there that you need to clean out.

"It's not broken," you tell him softly. He's sitting on the edge of the bath tub, peering up at you with a much more alert expression. The fall definitely woke him up, not to mention the choice words he and Bill had thrown at each other as you and Frank helped him up the stairs. He's still exhausted though, and he needs to rest.

"I know it's not," he grumbles, "Just wanted to give Bill a piece of my mind for once."

You laugh softly as you reach for the damp cloth beside you, bringing it up to carefully pat it against the gash on the bridge of his nose. You can feel his eyes on you, watching and assessing as you do your best to wipe the area clean.

"I can do that myself," he murmurs.

"I just wanna help," you say quietly, and your eyes fall to his in a knowing glance. He doesn't seem to remember though, just nods and lets you carry on.

It's rare for you to be this alone with him. And by that, you mean this far from Tess. You're painfully aware that it would be impossible for her to walk in at any moment, to see the way you're standing over him, touching him. Frank's words from last time echo in your head but you're not quite sure you believe them; would she really be that angry if she knew how you felt about Joel? It's not like he'd return it, right? The man is twenty years your senior and, as Frank said, extremely unavailable. Not to mention Tess and Joel's relationship has been a point of confusion to you for a year now, still unsure exactly what they are to each other - would she really care?

You reach for the antiseptic - one of the many perks of having an injury in a supply house - and carefully dab some onto the cloth. Your hand trembles a bit as you reach up to carefully hold Joel's chin, your thumb getting lost in his greying beard.

"You haven't shaved in a while," you breathe, your eyes meeting his, and you wonder if you've already crossed a line by even noticing.

He doesn't seem to mind though, sighing deeply, "I haven't slept in a while, so let's hurry this up," he eyes the cloth, "Don't gotta warn me, just do it."

His words bring you back to the present, and you slowly ease the cloth down onto his cut. He hisses a bit, a normal reaction, but it only takes a few seconds to clean and then you're already reaching for a bandage, reluctantly letting go of his chin.

"I was worried about you, before. In the car," you tell him softly, unpeeling the adhesive, "Why haven't you been sleeping?"

His eyes fall to the floor, "I just don't sleep good. Never have."

"Is there anything I can do?"

He shrugs, gives you a humorless laugh, "Handful o' pills and a couple sips o' whiskey usually does the trick."

It makes sense, then, why these past few weeks he's seemed worse. It's been longer than usual since your last supply run and the three of you had started running out of vital supplies over a week ago now, not only for buyers but for yourselves. Joel had written whiskey near the top of the latter list, along with hydromorphone which he'd underlined several times.

"You should've told me you weren't feeling well," you murmur, applying the bandage carefully, "I could've driven the whole way."

"Could've, should've," he dismisses you with a grunt, "Doesn't matter now, does it? We got here, that's what counts."

You linger a little longer than you should on the bandage, thumb falling to gently trace the crease of his nose as you assess your work. It might scar, but it feels pointless to voice this - he already has so many, scattered across his face and neck like confetti. It hurts a little, knowing he's been through so much, seeing the evidence written all over him.

"My mom had this superstition," you tell him softly, a smile playing at your lips as you trace one of the scars under his eye, soft and delicate, "Whenever I got hurt, skinned my knee or busted my elbow playing, she'd bandage me up and then kiss it. She said a kiss would seal her love in there, keep me safe and protected. And if it scarred, that meant it worked."

He blinks at you, expression faltering a bit, "That's...that's a nice thought."

You shake your head, "It's silly, and not true. But... but I still do it anyway, even though she's gone. Just in case," you bite your lip, "I mean, who doesn't wanna feel a little more safe? A little more protected?"

Your gazes lock, and neither of you seem to move, caught in the stillness of the moment and the way your thumb is still stroking his face. You know you have limited time, maybe a few seconds before he breaks it, so without much thought at all you lean down and lightly press your lips to the bandage, eyes closed.

He inhales sharply, a sound that triggers butterflies in your tummy as you hold your mouth against his nose, soft and sweet. It's the closest you've ever been to him, even if you're kissing gauze and not skin - you can still feel the warmth radiating from him, sense the way he freezes below you. A squeaking sound pierces the silence, his hand squeezing the edge of the bath tub tightly. It startles you, your eyes blinking open as you pull back to look at him.

His cheeks are tinged pink, eyelids heavy as he peers up at you with slow blinks.

"You're tired," you breathe, unable to stop your hand from flitting to his hair, pushing a little behind his ear, "Let's get you to bed."

The Joel Miller in Bill and Frank's guest room is not the Joel Miller you thought you knew.

This Joel is loose, pliant. He lets you lead him into the bedroom with a hand on his back, lets you carefully turn him on the spot to reach up and undo the buttons on his flannel. Frank had told you on your way up to make sure Joel didn't get blood on the sheets, so you're only following orders, only doing what you were told.

"Sorry," you murmur softly, fingers shaking every so often as they toy with the buttons, sticky with his blood. Joel doesn't seem to notice though, retreating more and more into the sleepy state he'd been in earlier.

Once his flannel is off you assess his t-shirt and jeans, and you're not sure how to feel about the fact that they didn't get dirty in the fall. On the other hand, though, you're not sure you'd have been brave enough to take them off. Instead you help him toward the bed, pull back the sheets and carefully push him ahead.

"There you go," you whisper, helping him under the covers and pulling the blankets back over him. The sun is streaming through the window, casting the golden light of early evening across the bed, and while it's quite beautiful you shut the curtains anyway, knowing he'll sleep better in darkness. When you turn back around, he's already fallen asleep, lips parted, face peaceful. A different man.

You don't linger, even though you want to.

It's around ten o'clock when you decide to check on him again. You'd watched a movie with Bill and Frank, feeling more than a little unwelcome as Bill tossed you a few dirty looks every so often, though Frank repeatedly told you to ignore him. Now they're in bed downstairs while you pad from your own room across the hall to Joel's, turning the knob carefully. The hinges squeak a little as you open it and you wince.

"Who's there?" you hear Joel grumble from the bed. So much for just taking a peek.

"Me, just me." You push the door wider and walk inside, eyebrows going up when Joel turns on the bedside lamp. He seems a little more rested, although you know he still needs a full night's sleep. "I sent a message to Tess through the radio to let her know we're not coming back tonight - well, Frank did. Picked a song called Tomorrow or something like that."

"Hope it was the Johnny Mathis version," he mumbles, and you watch as he brings his hands up to rub across his face. He accidentally dismantles the bandage and you step forward without really thinking, hurrying to his side and reaching down to fix it.

His hand comes up to grab yours and you freeze in place.

"I can do it," he says, giving you a curt look and then releasing your hand to adjust the gauze himself.

Well, you suppose lax and sleepy Joel couldn't stick around forever. You stand awkwardly by the side of the bed, toying with the edge of the blanket as he rubs his eyes and sits up a little, leaning back against the headboard. He looks so much older in this light; you can see the little flecks of grey in his beard and hair that have been starting to get more noticeable lately, the crows feet, the wrinkles.

He's so handsome.

He turns to look at you with a frown, as if he's only just realizing what you said, "We can go back tonight, I'm fine."

"You're not and you know it. Besides, it's already past ten and now I'm tired, I won't be able to drive."

"I can drive."

"Joel," you surprise yourself by sitting down on the edge of the bed, narrowing your brow as you give him a serious look, "You can't drive. You almost fucking killed us both."

"No I-"

"Yes you did," your tone is firm, suddenly angry - are you angry? - "If I hadn't been talking to you, if I hadn't noticed something was wrong, you would've driven us off the damn road."

He goes quiet at that, frown deepening, the lines on his face more prominent in the low lamplight. You sigh, eyes falling to rest on where your hand is settled on the bed, only inches from his. Part of you wants to reach out and touch, feel the warmth of his skin, the rough of his palm - the other part decides to do something even more stupid.

"You called me baby."

It's out of your mouth before you've even really acknowledged it, and once the words have tumbled out you know there's no taking them back. Your gaze snaps back up to his, slightly surprised to see that he doesn't seem very shocked by your admission.

He clears his throat a little, averting his gaze and shuffling a bit under the covers, "Did I?"

"...Yeah."

You think maybe he'll say something else - anything else - but he doesn't. God, it really is like pulling teeth with him; he's so fucking beautiful but so impossible, never being able to expand on something unless prompted, never being able to answer a single question without jerking you around first. How the fuck has Tess managed to deal with it for so long?

The thought of Tess sends a wave of guilt through your body, Frank's words echoing in your head, but you shove it down.

"What made you... I mean why..." your voice is soft, apprehensive and shy in the quiet of the bedroom, "why'd you call me baby?"

A beat of silence. Then-

"Don't ask me that."

The mood has shifted, your sudden anger ebbing and his annoyance fading into something else, something on the brink of being real. He's avoiding your eyes, peering at the window with the curtains drawn and tapping his fingers anxiously against the mattress, so close to your hand. He's nervous; you're making him nervous.

You stay silent, hoping he'll speak again, hoping maybe just this one time he'll tell you what he's thinking.

"I don't know why."

The words are barely a whisper, almost like he's telling you a secret, and he leaves them hanging in the air briefly before amending - "Well," he sighs and finally looks at you, an emotion you can't place crossing his features, "that's not true. But... I didn't mean - fuck, I was passin' out, for Christ's sake, I didn't realize-"

He cuts himself off again, raising his hand up to press his fingers to the bridge of his nose, briefly forgetting the bandage. He winces when he comes in contact with the gauze, "Can I take this off? It's drivin' me fuckin' crazy."

"Let me do it," you say quietly, inching forward on the bed and reaching for his face. He flinches when you go to touch him, and your hand freezes mid-air.

"Sorry," he mutters, shaking his head like he's shaking off a sensation, a chill, "Go ahead."

With careful - and slightly trembling - fingers, you remove the bandage from his nose. It looks much better than before, no fresh blood in sight, and you suppose it's okay for him to keep it uncovered for the night. Without really thinking about it you gently thumb the side of his nose just shy of the cut, the tips of your other fingers brushing against his cheek.

"It's not too bad," you murmur, and before you know it you're suddenly cupping his jaw, feeling the weight of it in your palm. Your gaze falls to his lips, your thoughts going a mile a minute.

You realize you're close enough that you could kiss him, if you really wanted to. If he really wanted to. All it would take is one small movement, one little push from the both of you, one leap of faith...

And then he whispers your name, almost a warning, and it's like his thoughts are mirroring yours - like he can see exactly what you're picturing, wishing for. Your eyes meet his and you feel a flutter in your stomach when you see the way he's looking at you, a quiet hunger hidden in the deep brown.

You decide to test the waters. You lean in and softly press another kiss to his nose, this time without the gauze in the way. Just like you'd thought, his skin is hot under your lips, soft but scarred, and his smell - god, he smells so masculine and safe, invading your senses as your lips trail downwards to press a small kiss to his cupid's bow, then another to the corner of his mouth. It's sharp, prickly from his scruff, but it doesn't bother you in the slightest - in fact, you kind of like the dull pain, the way it grounds you, keeps you in the moment.

"Baby," he whispers, and a soft little whine falls from your lips without meaning to as your lips move to ghost across his mouth, going for another kiss - a real kiss.

He pulls away before you get there, but then his hand comes up to touch your face, big and wide. He holds you like you're precious, small. His baby.

"S'not right," he whispers, though his thumb strokes your cheek soothingly, "S'not okay for me to want you like that."

You close your eyes at his touch, breathing deeply, "But you do."

"Yeah, I do," you hear him murmur, "You know I do."

"For how long?"

He doesn't respond right away, just continues to stroke your cheek, hold what feels like all of you in his warm palm. You tilt your head a bit to the side, eyes fluttering open to look at him again. You catch the way his lips turn up a little at the movement.

"Too damn long," he sighs, "But that don't... that's not..." he brings his other hand up to cup the other side of your face, holding you still as he peers at you in earnest, brow furrowed, "Point is, we shouldn't... you shouldn't be out here alone with me. Tess knows how I-" he cuts himself off again, and you can see now how difficult it is for him to communicate like this, to be open and honest, "I told her it wasn't a good idea."

"Why?"

He laughs lightly, thumbs circling the apples of your cheeks, "'Cause look where we ended up." He swallows, eyes falling to your lips, "Look where you are right now, baby. Look where my damn hands are for cryin' out loud."

"Keep calling me baby," you breathe, a desperation in your voice that betrays your emotions, tears pricking in your eyes as the weight of this conversation comes crashing down around you. He wants you - he's always wanted you. His words to Tess about not wanting to put you in danger, wanting you to stay away, those soft looks you've shared in his apartment, the small talk, all of it - it's because he wants you.

"We can't do this," he murmurs, leaning in to press his forehead to yours, eyes closing, "I can't do this, you're so- you're too-" he groans, fingers digging into your hair, "You're so young, baby."

"I don't care," you whine, butting your head forward to chase his lips, suddenly yearning to be kissed and held and protected by him, be wrapped in his embrace.

But he pulls away, removing his hands from your face and shuffling back a bit on the bed, away from you. Your hand drops but you reach out pathetically for him anyway, moving closer, attempting to pull the covers back. His hands capture yours and he squeezes them firmly, shaking his head.

"You need to go back to your room," he tells you, and his tone has changed from soft to serious, "It's late and I'm... well, you know I'm fuckin' exhausted. And you've had a long day." He looks at you with pleading eyes, like he's silently begging for you not to put him in this situation, "Let's just call it a night, okay?"

"But-" you start, tears shining in your eyes.

"Please," he breathes, "Please don't make this harder than it needs to be."

You do not want to get up from his bed. But you do.

You do not want to leave his room. But you do.

You do not want to lie awake in your own bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how his hands felt on your face, the way his eyes searched yours, the way his skin felt under your lips.

But you do.

You lie there for hours, thumbs twiddling against your belly, tears trickling down your cheeks every so often. All you can hear in your mind over and over again is the word Baby, punctuated by that soft groan he'd made, the way his thumbs had stroked your cheeks, how large and warm and safe he'd seemed in that bed.

All you want to do is be in that bed with him.

So it's no surprise when, as the sun is beginning to rise and that warm golden light starts to stream through your window, you crawl out from under your blankets and cross the hall one more time.

"We shouldn't" he murmurs when you climb into bed with him, when you tuck yourself into his side and bury your face in his shoulder, but his hands are already in your hair, fingers stroking along the back of your head.

Your bodies mold together like they've always been meant to fit that way, your legs tangled with his, arms trapped under big biceps and hairy forearms, breasts flush with his suddenly bare chest.

"I wanna be your baby," you whisper.

The nose you'd kissed brushes slowly up and down the side of your face, and he doesn't hesitate this time. He reaches up to turn your head, presses his lips against yours and lets you melt into him. Lets you trail your hand downward to unbutton his jeans in the silence of the early morning.

"You already are."

[ninyard]

please can you explain what kevins part of the deal wth andrew is because ive never really understood it and i feel like you probably get it

Okay. So. (tw; brief sh/suicide mention)

My understanding of Kevin and Andrew’s deal in the best way i can possibly explain it and HOPEFULLY i saw what i mean and it makes sense:

TLDR: Kevin promised to give him purpose, and Andrew’s waiting to see if that’s even possible.

There’s this part in TRK where Kevin tells Neil about their deal -

I’ve seen a few posts about Andrew’s mental health recently - about how Andrew wanted to recover, how he wanted to survive.

I think it’s hard to imagine Kevin and Andrew’s relationship sometimes because we see so little of it aside from Kevin keeping his pills, but there’s this;

I think it was Andrew who told him this. Andrew told Kevin that without his drugs he was destructive and joyless, in whatever context it was mentioned in. He told Kevin he had no ambition for life. (or because Neil says he tried to “remember her exact words” he talked to her? Read the files? But what are the chances of that?) I like to think that early on before they’d made their deal, Kevin asked him about his meds and Andrew told him. I think he’s quoting Andrew, who quoted his counsellor.

We know Andrew was struggling with self-harm. I know when Neil described Andrew’s scars as “up and down” his arm, it most likely means in a literal sense - from the top to the bottom of his forearm, but coupled with this;

I wonder if Andrew’s depression led him to have a closer relationship with suicide than we think. He had 12 psychiatrists before Bee. What are the chances that all of them are from after Cass? (ie Andrew’s mental health journey started before her)

STICK WITH ME HERE.

Regardless of who told him what, I think a part of Kevin saw that Andrew having no purpose was dangerous. I think Andrew himself worried that without his meds he’d fall back into this rabbit hole of having nothing to live for, having no purpose, having no point to continue living. And Andrew wanted to survive. Any excuse to live was worth it. Even if he didn’t believe in it himself, even if he saw it was pointless - leaving us with:

Going back to that first quote “he’s waiting to see if I can keep it.” If it’s even possible. It’s like finding tiny reasons to stay alive when you’re suicidal - I can’t kill myself because my favourite band might release new music. I can’t kill myself because my favourite tv show was cancelled, but there’s a chance it might come back. I’ll never hear my favourite person laugh again, I’ll never see the sunset again, there a chance that I’ll miss being an uncle, or I might miss my brothers wedding, or I might miss the invention of something life changing. My favourite band that broke up might get back together again - it’s unlikely, but I have to stay alive just in case.

Exy might be my purpose, and even if I don’t believe it, I still need something to live for.

So Kevin gave him something to live for. He believes in him.

Kevin was the first person to see any worth in Andrew - maybe since Cass, maybe ever - and Andrew knew that.

So Andrew gave Kevin his game; even if he won’t play with Kevin because he thinks it’s funny or whatever.

When Kevin came to PSU, he needed a reason to stay, something that would make transferring to the team worth it. And he knew Andrew was worth it. He knew how Andrew could play, how he should be court. Sure, David was there, but Kevin stayed because of Andrew. Andrew offered him protection, and then gave Kevin a reason to believe in the foxes. Every other player might’ve been dog shit and not worth a second of Kevin’s time, not worth his talent, not worth investing in.

But Andrew was.

Andrew could be court.

If Andrew promised Kevin he would allow him to give him purpose in Exy, then that gave Kevin reason to stay. Does that make sense? Kevin wouldn’t have stayed infthe Foxes were actually the worst team in the league. But with Andrew there, they weren’t, and that was reason enough to stay.

Kevin sees Andrew’s worth - he sees what he can do to keep Andrew going, so when Kevin says “he’s waiting to see if I can keep it,” I think it’s Andrew waiting to see if he’s right. Can he actually give me a career out of this? A life out of this? Maybe it’s a lack of self worth on Andrew’s part. He clearly doesn’t care about how good he is. But does he know? Does he even believe it?

So he’s waiting for Kevin to keep his promise. To prove that he’s good enough. To prove that Exy can realistically actually be his purpose.

But Andrew both believes and doesn’t believe that that’ll ever happen. He’s a walking contradiction. On the one hand he says out loud, “im waiting for Kevin to give up,” but I don’t think he means: im fucking with him and don’t believe him. I think he means: im waiting for him to finally see in me what I see in me, which is somebody who isn’t worth it. It comes from a place of self doubt/lack of self worth. It comes from a place of not believing he actually has anything to live for. It comes from that self destructive instinct that he has.

Andrew wants to survive, but he doesn’t believe that he can.

Andrew’s deal with Kevin: I’ll keep you safe and give you a reason to stay*

Kevin’s deal with Andrew: I’ll give you purpose and something to live for*

*but neither of these things can exist without the other. Kevin won’t stay if Andrew doesn’t see that he’s good enough for Exy to be his purpose, if he doesn’t let Kevin prove he was right by believing in him. If he doesn’t, then Kevin can’t give him something to live for.

Kevin promised to give him purpose, and Andrew’s waiting to see if that’s even possible.

Does uh. That make sense?

[warblogs17282]

Stolas and his accidental racism problems that is still an issue in apology tour, plus how this affects Stolitz coming back together.

Go to bottom for a tldr

Yea there's no justifying what Stolas did in s1 e1, he took advantage of Blitz by using his bad circumstances, which Stolas could figure out (the phone call plus the bubbles would hint him off to the fact Blitz is in danger), to get the arrangement started, already starting it off as a thing where Blitz is basically serving the royal by having sex with him once a month, that being the only thing Blitz is useful for, making Stolas pretty manipulative and using Blitz's low status as a tool to get what Stolas wants, making it pretty racist as a result.

Then we get into the pet names and shit Stolas mostly used in season 1, in e2 Stolas refused to take the hint, constantly flirting with Blitz the entire way through, ignoring Octavia and sometimes doing it right in front of her, much to Octavia's dismay, as we know and is proven later on, Blitz took these pet names and stuff pretty hard. He gets pretty racist in the harvest moon festival as well, now using those pet names and stuff in front of a huge crowd of people, even after Blitz tells Stolas to stop, putting down Blitz's race of people in front of basically everyone, also making this kinda thing pretty racist of Stolas? He did not do this with the intention to be racist, he's just a horny weirdo who's trying to match Blitz's levels. Like just look at the imps faces while he says this. This specific comment however, is probably just something engrained into Stolas' subconscious, most likely from Paimon as we can see evidence of in s2 e1.

Then we get to the full moon episode, with the two major comments here being 'you were serious?' and 'Treat me like one of your little Butler imps'. The first statement being proof that Stolas gave Blitz enough reason to believe that this was only about sex and nothing else, with evidence to support this being that Stolas didn't even bother to tell Blitz about the change in the planned events, causing Blitz to believe that Stolas was only ever in it for the sex, and now he's getting tired of Blitz, leading directly into the second statement, telling Stolas that he thinks that Stolas thinks so low of Blitz as a person, and because of a later statement and behaviour before this, leading Blitz into thinking that Stolas is being racist towards imps again when that is not Stolas' intention at all.

And then it gets entirely addressed in a better setting, Blitz still thinks it's a sex thing even after the argument in the full moon episode, and this statement proves it, Blitz thinks that Stolas has a fetish for imps and such, all perpetuated by Stolas' pet names and such in the past, his general incompetence at times when discussing heavy topics, and finally, his lack of self-awareness. The last one is the major selling point for Blitz, as much as Stolas tries to get Blitz to understand this isn't all about sex, they both fail miserably at doing so, with Stolas not bringing up the butler imp comment, in 'When I see him' we see the servant imp be fed up because Stolas has just emptied the fridge, leaving him to clean it all up, and in seeing stars where Stolas nearly kills the imps by squeezing him so hard, leaving accidental racism towards imps unaddressed for Blitz, so Blitz will continue to believe that Stolas is still racist towards imps, even if that's not Stolas' intentions, it's still in Stolas' subconscious, something Stolas needs to fix asap otherwise this will be a reason of the many reasons Stolitz has fallen entirely apart right now.

Description reads 'Stolas still not quite being self aware enough at times'

So Stolas believes he's not looking down on Blitz, but he does and just doesn't realise it, leading Blitz to have reason to believe Stolas does in fact look down upon him. Stolas does not seem to understand WHY what he did in the past hurts Blitz so much, proving that Stolas is not being self-aware at all at the moment.

tldr: The fact that Stolas has still yet to address his unintentional racism towards imps at multiple points during this show is a roadblock that Stolas needs to fix otherwise Stolitz cannot get back together.

[shiny-crocodile]

the best person i’ve ever met

lucy bronze x ona batlle

Summary

lucy and ona origin story; semi-slow burn, semi-quick; multi chapters that will get a little smutty

chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6,

CHAPTER 7

Chapter summary: injuries and jealousy

Chapter notes: thank so much for all the suggestions! already had this written but tweaked to include one. hope you enjoy xx

Smut

As the days and weeks passed it was harder and harder for Lucy to keep this hidden from her teammates. She wasn’t a natural at keeping secrets, and there was only so many ways she could reject Mapi’s relentless offers of another tattooed friend for her to date.

The two right backs called each other nearly every night, knowing it was about to become extremely difficult to hide with Ona going to the Chelsea game and having to spend time with both Lucy and her Spanish teammates afterwards. They had zero clue how they were going to navigate that one.

The game only a few days away, Jana and Salma were in the changing room discussing match tickets in earshot of Lucy.

“So I asked her if she wanted me to get her tickets to the game on Saturday but she said she’s already got some,” Jana continued. “Did you get her them? I need to make sure she’s in the family area so my mum will have someone she knows there.”

The group around Jana all shook their heads.

So Jana turned to the rest of the room, announcing, “did any of you get Ona tickets to the game on Saturday?”

“Not me” chimed out from different parts of the changing room as they all looked at each other.

She was in the family area, but Lucy was going to keep quiet and no one was really looking at her, they wouldn’t think to. Apart from Keira and Alexia but they would have never said anything.

“Why don’t you just ask her?” Alexia suggested.

Jana sighed, “I did, she’s aired my messages, must have lost her phone again.”

Lucy chuckled in her head, knowing full well Ona’s phone was alive and well as they were messaging each other 10 minutes ago.

Jana huffed and stropped out to training.

As the last two out onto the pitch, Alexia matched Lucy’s pace. “She’s sitting in the family area yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool I’ll let Jana know, can’t have her sulking all day,” Alexia said, “you know everyone’s going to find out on Saturday.”

Before Lucy had time to respond, Alexia had jogged off to catch up with Jana.

She knew her captain was probably right, but the barça girls were still more Ona’s friends than Lucy’s. She would wait for the younger girl to be ready to tell them, not putting any pressure on. Lucy could keep her mouth shut.

////

As the Barcelona coach pulled into Stamford Bridge, the day had finally arrived and crowds were starting to build. Lucy looked out the window to see as many “Bronze” shirts as she did Chelsea or other Barça ones, giving her the warmest welcome when she jumped off.

Ona was already at Stamford Bridge, excitement building as she chatted to a lot of familiar faces, mingling with the friends and family of her Spain teammates.

She had been so looking forward to being reunited with Lucy but also to watch her play, never having actually watched her from the stands, she couldn’t wait to fan girl.

The Spaniard loved that she wasn’t the only Lucy fan, with Bronze shirts everywhere! She proudly took photos of any in her eye line. If anything it made Ona feel even luckier to be with her.

Just watching Lucy warm up was adorable, in a world of her own, and then sweetly swinging the arm of her young mascot, Ona was well and truly swooning.

As the game kicked off Ona felt similar rush from watching Lucy play as when roles were reversed a few weeks ago. The number 15 won every duel, was first to each ball, and even made an insane goal line clearance, Ona was in awe. Mesmerised enough that she even felt it lower down, knowing exactly where her hand would be right now if she wasn’t sat next to Jana’s mum.

So transfixed by the game and the girl, she nearly missed what Alexia’s sister was up to a couple rows in front of her. Nearly missed, but not quite.

Scrolling through TikTok, Ona could easily recognise these as Lucy edits, she’d seen most of them before herself. Some were thirstier than others but video after video was just Lucy.

Ona knew that either Sofia had literally searched “Lucy Bronze edits” or her algorithm was just pure Lucy. Whichever was true, Ona’s blood was boiling, completely taking over her as she lost all focus of the game, pissed off that this girl, a beautiful girl at that, was thirsting over her Lucy.

With her eyes off the game and burning a whole in the back of Sofia’s head, the younger girl didn’t see Lucy go down until the whistle drew her attention back to the pitch.

“Shit, what happened?” Ona asked Jana’s mum next to her. Medical staff were surrounding Lucy now as play was paused.

“I didn’t see properly but she went down holding her knee.”

Fuuuuuck, Ona thought, knowing exactly what this meant. Lucy wasn’t one to require treatment or stay down this long if it wasn’t serious. Ona was panicking.

Lucy limped off the pitch and straight into the changing room, leaving Ona feeling helpless and biting her nails for the last 30 minutes of the game until the full time whistle went and Lucy reappeared, not walking right as she made her way onto the pitch to congratulate her teammates and commiserate with her Chelsea friends.

Rather than going round the pitch to see fans as she usually did, the English girl hobbled back down the tunnel. She couldn’t bring herself to wave up at the family area, worrying Ona further, who was ignoring the congratulatory hugs to try and read the expression of the older girl for something, anything.

//

The Man U player was feeling incredibly anxious as she waited for Lucy in the hospitality restaurant that all the family and friends were told to wait in. She was temporarily distracted as the Barcelona players gradually started to make their way into the room, giving her mini reunions with the girls she’s known for years.

As more and more players came in, the English girl never appeared. The Spaniard couldn’t wait any longer.

Ona - all good?

Lucy - sorry, medics are taking their sweet time on my knee.

Lucy - can you go to the lifts? I’ll send someone to get you.

Ona discreetly made her way out, not noticed by the rest of the room who were digging in to some post game burgers.

//

“Shit,” Ona said as she entered the room to see Lucy sat up on the medical bed with an insane amount of ice around her knee.

“Not as bad as it looks,” Lucy lied, getting an eye roll from Peter the physio.

Peter picked up one of the ice packs to take a look at the knee in question.

“Ok you need to stay here a little longer, I’ll go and get you both a plate of food from upstairs.”

Lucy wasn’t particularly hungry but she wasn’t going to argue with him offering to leave the room.

The second he was out the room, Ona was by her side, leaning down to kiss her lips gently.

“You were so good, and crazy hot,” Ona said, moving some of the sweaty hair out of Lucy’s face while staring into those mesmerising green eyes.

“Thanks bonita,” Lucy said, blushing while pulling the Spaniard down into another kiss, more passionate this time.

“You have fun with Jana’s mum?”

Ona nodded, rubbing circles in Lucy’s palm.

“Mm yeah,” Ona started, pretending she had just remembered something when really it had been at the back of her mind for the past hour. “And I was sat a couple of rows behind a whole other kind of Lucy show.”

“Oh yeah?” Lucy asked, curious.

“Yeah, more of a TikTok edits type of show,” Ona continued, “Alexia’s sister spent most of the second half glued to her phone watching sexy videos of you.”

Lucy grimaced slightly and Ona noticed.

“What’s that look?” Ona asked.

“I do kind of know Sofia,” Lucy admitted, feeling incredibly awkward, looking down at her hands that Ona was still playing with.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm, we hooked up a few times last year,” Lucy said, now looking up at Ona, not knowing what her reaction would be.

“Oh really? A few?” Ona asked. Lucy had mentioned in one of their late night phone calls that she’d not exactly been a nun since her break up, so that wasn’t surprising. But Ona had got the impression they were all one time things.

“Yeah, a couple parties and couple booty calls, never anything close to serious.”

“How did it end?” Ona asked, she had quite a lot of questions but wasn’t going to ask them, she knew the answers would only feed her jealousy.

“I mean it never really started but I guess the nail in the coffin was when this one girl nearly vomitted on me at a wedding and the other girls suddenly didn’t matter,” Lucy said. She was trying to be cheeky but it didn’t come out as anything but adorable, earning her a playful shoulder shove from Ona.

Before Ona could say anything back, Peter returned with the burgers. Killing the mood but, unlike Lucy, the younger girl was starving so she wouldn’t complain.

“So I have to get a scan tomorrow,” Lucy said to Ona, changing the subject. “Sorry I know we had fun weekend plans.”

“That’s ok, we can still have fun in a hospital waiting room,” Ona said, unwrapping the foil round her burger, the older girl loving that it didn’t even cross the Spaniard’s mind to not be at the hospital with her. “What do you want to do tonight?”

“Well the girls have booked out a part of the hotel for a little fiesta, so we could go to that for a bit so you get to spend more time with that lot, and then we can just hang,” Lucy said with a knowing smile, both girls fully intending to minimise the party time and maximise the “hang” time, but they couldn’t say that in front of Peter.

///

The party was one of the more low key ones for the Barça girls. After all they were still in season and under the watchful eye of their coaches.

Sub groups had formed around the room, which was scattered with tables holding bottles of Prosecco and beer.

Ona and Lucy spent the evening at a safe distance from each other. They knew they’d have the rest of the weekend together so this temporary time on other sides of the room wasn’t a big deal.

They still stole glances and smiles, unable to stop their eyes from wandering to the other every few minutes. That’s why it wasn’t hard for Ona to spot another brunette making her way towards Lucy.

“Sofia, hey,” Lucy said giving her ex-fuck buddy a quick hug.

The younger Putellas held onto Lucy’s arms a second longer than needed. “Hola Lucia, it’s been a while.”

Lucy laughed awkwardly, she didn’t really want to have this chat with Ona nearby, but she’d never be rude enough to just dismiss her. “It has, how have you been?”

“Yeah really good, I just got a promotion at work, and bought my own flat!” Sofia said.

“Wow congrats, look at you go!” Lucy said, honestly happy for the girl. While their connection wasn’t the deepest it wasn’t as if they ended on bad terms or anything. Sofia was just a sweetheart.

Sofia leaned down slightly to stroke Lucy’s bandaged knee, “how is it?”

As platonic and friendly as the conversation felt for Lucy, it looked the opposite to Ona from across the room, who’s eyes were narrowing in on the pair, ignoring Jana and Mapi yapping beside her, not that they noticed.

She stared as Sofia kept touching Lucy’s arm, laughing excessively loudly at anything Lucy said, starting to whisper in Lucy’s ear instead of speaking from a normal distance.

It felt like the temperature in the room had just gone up by 20 degrees as jealousy took over her.

Lucy’s reaction to all this certainly didn’t cause this to cool.

The older girl laughed back, she grinned, she chatted, looking carefree and relaxed. Well carefree and relaxed until she caught Ona’s eyes on her.

Lucy had never seen her look like that before. She stepped back on instinct, reestablishing some distance between her and Sofia.

She recognised the anger, she recognised the lust, but the two in combination was new. Whatever that look was, she’d be lying if she said it didn’t excite her, looking deep into her.

The temperature of the room was now 20 degrees hotter for both of them.

Now Ona had Lucy’s full attention, she couldn’t stop her feet from marching over to the pair.

“Oh hi Ona, are-“ Sofia started, but before another word could be uttered , Ona was barging Sofia out the way and latching her mouths onto Lucy’s, instantly forcing her tongue in.

Once Lucy had got over the initial shock she joined in on the messy kiss. With the younger girl keeping her close with hands on either side of the English girl’s head. Lucy used her hands to grab Ona’s arse, squeezing hard enough to spur on the lust and energy flowing through them.

Meanwhile, they’d obviously attracted the attention of others in the room.

Jana’s jaw dropped to the floor, tapping Mapi incessantly to get her to turn around, who followed suit with the jaw dropping.

“What the actual fuck? Those two? I can’t believe Lucy is the person Ona’s obsessed with,” Jana says, having been on the receiving end of many of Ona’s ramblings about the nameless girl she was seeing.

“Well that explains all the extra Spanish classes she’s been begging for,” Mapi had said, shoving her girlfriend, “see Ingrid, I told you she wasn’t trying to steal me from you.”

Ingrid wrapped a hand round Mapi’s waist, giving it a squeeze. She was relieved her girl wasn’t going to be stolen by the Lucy Bronze but also finding it hard not to be turned on by the steamy kiss in front of her.

Apart from those 3 and Sofia, who was frozen in shock, the rest of the room were too distracted by their own conversations to notice, but they would surely know soon enough now the team’s chattiest members had seen.

Ona pulled back from the kiss, a smug smile on her face as she turned to Sofia, giving a “yeah, sorry” before taking Lucy’s hand and leading them out the room, not giving Lucy’s head time to catch up as she hobbled after her.

After entering the lift, instead of jumping back to Lucy and picking up where they left off, Ona gasped in realisation of what she had just done.

“Shit Lucy,” the Spaniard said, “I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry I should have asked you before kissing you in front of everyone.”

Lucy was still in shock herself, not really computing what had just happened and why it had happened. All she did know was that she was very into it.

“Shh, come back here,” Lucy said, pulling Ona over to her, who quickly forgot what she was sorry about, pushing the older girl up against the lift mirror and reattaching their lips.

Ona took complete control of the kiss, sucking her tongue, fingers tangled in her hair.

The lift pinged at their floor and Ona resumed her position of dragging Lucy around by the hand.

The younger girl walked straight into their room and over to the bed, ordering Lucy to lay down. They’d be limited on positions with Lucy’s knee, but the Spaniard had plenty of ideas.

Pushing Lucy onto her back and climbing on top, Ona started sucking on the older girl’s neck.

Lucy moaned loudly as she felt the brunette leave marks all over her neck, loving this side of Ona.

“Oh my god,” Lucy uttered out between moans.

“Gonna mark you up and show that bitch you’re all mine,” Ona whispered into Lucy’s neck, sending the older girl’s head into orbit.

Between head spins it dawned on Lucy, that look she didn’t recognise Ona serving her, the reason for the public kiss bombardment, it was all jealousy.

This perfect, beautiful girl was jealous of someone else. If she wasn’t so turned on, she’d laugh.

Once Ona had finished her attack on Lucy’s neck, she made her way down the older girl’s chest and torso, discarding tops and bras as she went, leaving deep red marks everywhere her mouth went.

In a complete change of attitude, the Spaniard switched from possessive to caring mode. She looked up at Lucy to sense any hesitation as she gradually brought her trousers down her legs, not wanting to disturb the knee strapping.

“You ok?” Ona asked, noticing Lucy wincing as the trousers went past her knee.

“Yeah, all good, knee just hurting a bit.”

It wasn’t just hurting a bit, it was throbbing, the pain killers were wearing off. But Lucy was desperate for that not to stop the Ona show that she was living for.

“We don’t have to do this,” Ona said. As much as she wanted to, she didn’t want to hurt her.

Lucy wracked her brain, thinking of what they could do that could still let Ona get this jealous rage out but also not require Lucy to mess up her knee further.

Then it came to her. “You don’t have to say yes but d’you wanna sit on my face?”

“Oh my god,” Ona said, feeling her knickers get soaked at the offer alone.

The way the younger girl quickly ripped all her clothes off gave Lucy the answer she was waiting for, putting a pillow under her head as she shifted herself up the bed.

Ona followed her, crawling up the bed until their lips met again. “I can’t wait to ride your beautiful face,” she whispered in Lucy’s ear, pulling a delicious moan from the girl beneath her.

“Did you ever do this with Sofia?” Ona asked as she repositioned herself, legs straddling Lucy’s face.

Lucy couldn’t help but laugh at the timing of that question coming as she had the world’s best view of Ona, admiring her as she was absolutely dripping.

“Did you?” Ona asked, more forcefully this time.

Lucy thought about her next words very carefully, “you don’t want the answer.”

That was all it took for Ona, pushing herself down onto Lucy’s face.

Taken aback at the speed and force, Lucy grabbed Ona’s arse to establish some stability, not able to resist squeezing it. She pushed her tongue flat to Ona’s pussy, licking up her folds as the Spaniard shuddered above her.

The Spaniard, feeling the control over Lucy that she wanted, grabbed onto the headboard as she started fucking herself on Lucy’s face.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” Ona screamed as Lucy’s tongue destroyed her, causing her to rock even harder, getting everything she needed from Lucy’s mouth while the older girl’s hands ground at her arse.

Lucy tilted her head so her nose to get better friction on Ona’s clit, knowing exactly what the girl needed.

“Oh my god. Your mouth. Never stop,” Ona said, rapidly approaching her high.

Lucy pushed Ona up slightly, enabling herself to breathe for a second and assure the younger girl, “it’s your mouth, and this is my pussy.”

Ona let out an earth shattering moan, Lucy’s words were exactly what her jealous ass needed to hear as the older girl continued to fuck her with her tongue.

Lucy could feel Ona was close, drowning in her wetness, so she sucked on her clit, sending the younger girl hurtling into her orgasm.

Ona cried out again, continuing to rock herself on Lucy’s mouth as the older girl helped her through her high, swallowing everything she could before Ona couldn’t take anymore, lifting herself off Lucy’s face, collapsing next to her.

“Wow,” Ona said, panting, absolutely exhausted.

Lucy wiped Ona’s juices off her face, also panting as she rolled on her side to face the Spaniard.

She held the younger girls face lightly, turning it to face her, looking deep into each other’s completed fucked out eyes.

“You know you’ve got nothing to worry about, right?” Lucy asked. She was grateful for Ona’s jealous side when it led to that, but she had no intention of letting that jealousy carry on any longer.

Ona hummed, staring into Lucy’s warm, reassuring eyes.

Lucy continued, not satisfied that Ona was sufficiently reassured, “in case it wasn’t already abundantly clear, I only want you.”

Ona sighed, it was exactly what she needed to hear and she knew she had been behaving a little extra.

“It’s just not the nicest thing to see,” Ona admitted, “like girl stop drooling over my girlfriend.”

Ona didn’t notice the slip of tongue, but Lucy absolutely did, eyes opening wide in shock.

“What?” Ona asked in response to Lucy’s raised eyebrows, really not computing what had just come out her mouth, until she did.

“Oh shit!” the younger girl said, hand clasping her mouth.

“Your guuuuuuuuurlfriend?” Lucy teased, trying to pull Ona’s hand away from her face.

The Spaniard’s cheeks turned a bright crimson, not made better by being teased.

“Ughh,” Ona said, pushing Lucy away as she tried to tickle her through the teasing coos. “Stop, I take it back.”

“You don’t wanna be my girlfriend?” Lucy said, teasing tone still there but sticking her lower lip out to pout.

Ona shook her head, “no thank you.”

“Suit yourself, shall we head back to the party and see if anyone else will be my girlfriend,” Lucy smirked.

The English girl was absolutely loving this, while the Spaniard was hating it.

“You’re not as funny as you think you are,” Ona said, knowing she was lying but Lucy just knew how to get under her skin.

Too shattered to continue teasing, Lucy dragged Ona towards her by the hips, kissing her gently before pulling back.

“Forgive me Oni,” Lucy pleaded in her cutest voice possible as she placed the younger girl’s hair behind her ears. “I think of you as my girlfriend any way. I was just waiting on you.”

Ona found it impressive how Lucy could go from being the most annoying person on the planet one minute, to the sweetest the next.

“You don’t need to wait, I’m right here with you,” Ona said, bringing Lucy’s fingers up to kiss each of them softly. “And I don’t want to hide it from our friends either.”

“Well I think the hiding it may be out the window now, but I’d like that a lot,” Lucy said, voice starting to drag slightly as the tiredness took over.

“And I especially don’t want to hide it from any of our flirty friends,” Ona said, pushing herself up and straddling Lucy, knees either side of the older girl’s hips.

Suddenly Lucy felt a rush of energy at a naked Ona on top of her. Linking a hand behind Ona’s neck she pulled the younger girl in for a messier kiss, gearing up for round 2.

////

[chateaaa]

"he probably hates me" x "i love you so much"

pairing: Rin Itoshi x fem! reader

warnings: angst, fluff, swearing

req: "he probably hates me" x "i love you so much" Trope with rin is so true! Mau I request a one-shot of this pls? If u do make it, Tysm! ❤

Rin Itoshi was bad with his feelings and emotions. He knew that but deep down, he is actually a very fragile and sensitive man. Whose heart has been shattered into a million pieces because of how his brother left him.

Ever since you met Rin, your life has changed by becoming his girlfriend, Rin may not seem like it but he would be your typical act of service guy at the start of your relationship

Rin Itoshi, who after blue lock changed, his demeanour changed, his attitude changed and more importantly, your relationship changed. It's like he hates you, he never cares for you, Rin who after blue lock didn't even spare a glance at you.

You knew about Rin's ideals to beat his brother, but you still continued to support him, such as watching how the blue lock won against the football team of japan.

After the U20 match, you received a message from your cold beloved boyfriend, who asked if you can both meet at the park near the stadium because he has something to tell you, which you replied agreeing.

You walked to the park with a small frown, fully expecting that the Rin Itoshi is planning to break up with you.

You sat down at a swing in the park waiting for Rin.

An hour has passed after he messaged you, and he was still not at the park, you then thought positively about how Rin is probably being held up for interviews because of the victory of blue lock.

you saw a stray cat coming near you, and you gently picked it up as it purred when you petted the cat's head.

The park was silent, the only person was you (and the cat) and you were completely thinking about how Rin probably ditched you.

"Hey Mr. cat, do you think my boyfriend hates me?" you suddenly asked the cat, the cat then purred as you chuckled thinking how stupid you look talking about your boy problems to a literal cat.

"You see, i really love him, however i know that i'm a hindrance to his goal so i think it's time for us to break up" you continued talking to the cat.

"My boyfriend is the best, i love his smile and how passionate he is to football and i think i won't be needed in his future" you chuckled bitterly.

You then stood up from the swing, prepared to leave the park then suddenly you saw a figure running towards you.

And that was your boyfriend, The Rin Itoshi, who was now in front of you, still in his jersey, sweat beads going down his forehead as he looked into your eyes.

There was an awkward silence in the air, with Rin catching his breath, you decided to break the silence by speaking up "Rin, how are you? Congrats on winning the game!" you smiled genuinely.

"Y/n listen i—" Rin tried to talk to you.

"Let's break up, Rin" you smiled sadly.

"What...?" Rin replied genuinely shocked.

You closed your eyes, with the fear of getting the look of hatred from Rin as you spoke "Listen Rin, i know that you hate me, it's very obvious and i know i'm an hindrance to your goal in beating your brother, so it's okay and let's break up, thank you for being my boyfriend, Rin, Goodluck on your journey" you smiled, when you opened your eyes you saw something very shocking

You didn't expect the reaction from your boyfriends face when you said that, It was the first time you saw your boyfriend sad, looking like he was about to cry.

"W-What's wrong?" you replied in a panicked state, clearly not used to how rin expresses his emotions to you.

He then hugged you very tight, hands gripping your waist silently pleading for you to not let go, his head resting on your shoulder inhaling your sweet scent.

"I love you so fucking much, Please don't leave me"

changed my theme! hehe hope you like this! tysm for making a request <33

[barrenclan]

I think it would’ve made very little sense if Rainhaze ever stood up to his mom. Some asker said earlier that his mom had control over him in that sense, and I’m sure that’s true to some degree!

In essence I wouldn’t even trust him to make the “right” decision.

But I think it’s more a kind of unknown control. Rainpaw saw his sister getting hurt but was moreso deeply confused than he was complacent. For a kid, that’s really confusing! For a teenager too, especially in an environment with so few people, it’s hard to learn things from outside of his little bubble, ya know?

So he didn’t do anything, he watched, no matter how much it made his stomach churn. But that wouldn’t stop his mama from hurting her, it didn’t change anything. Being indecisive, not making a decision, really is a form of complacency. I wonder if Dustfeather knew how her son felt about this. It’d make most sense if Rainpaw kept it all inside, but did Dustfeather realize? Did she see her son get dizzy every time she hit his sister? How WOULD she feel? In the end, Rainhaze never graduated from this “don’t make a decision” mentality. Neutrality always lets things continue as they are happening. Poor little meow meow got crippling decision making…… idk, just silly speculation on my part!

Oh, yes, just because Rainhaze was the "favored child" doesn't mean he escaped the toxicity of Dustfeather's parenting. He just got it in a very different way than Slugpelt did. And it shaped him in ways that probably would've remained subconscious, until he was forced into situations that brought out the worst and most damaged parts of him.

[acourtofclutter]

Nightlight (Part 3 of 4)

"All of the laughter, all the sleepless nights, waiting for ever after... keeping on the night light."

Pairing: Rhysand / Night Court Emissary (Pixie!) Reader

Format(s) and Word Count: Headcanons and Drabbles, 2.11k words (the longest part yet!)

Summary: Amarantha's reign over Prythian continued as the years progressed, but you and Rhysand preserved in hopes you'd find a way out. A bargain is made behind closed doors and there are feelings left unspoken, though everything changes when you infiltrate the Spring Court.

Tags: Moderate Angst, Hurt / Some Comfort, Implied Violence, Torment, and SA, Set During Under The Mountain

Notes: Another continuation, thank you everyone who has liked, reblogged and commented, it means a lot to me and has made me want to write more for this series ♡

You can read the first part here and the second part here if you're new, enjoy!

A few more years passed before Rhysand convinced Amarantha that your pixie form could be used to her advantage, that your miniature eyes and ears were perfect for gathering information from the Spring Court. It was clear what he had done to persuade her, but it allowed you to accompany him whenever he had to leave the accursed court.

He asked you to make a bargain with him shortly afterwards: a small fraction of his power in exchange for your re-established camaraderie. It was a simple bargain, one that he wouldn’t make with anyone else, and it would allow you to protect yourself if anything happened whilst you were in the open – but you didn’t accept the bargain at first.

You had been trying to reminisce about the past when Rhysand appeared in the dark and lifeless room, the room that was supposed to be his when he wasn’t attending to Amarantha. He didn’t hesitate to make a bargain right then and there, but you wouldn’t take his hand when he placed it on top of the bed. “...What do you mean ‘no’?” He raised an eyebrow as you crossed your arms and turned your head. “You can’t fight in this form and you can hardly fly with those wings.” He pulled his hand back to his side and crouched down to the bed to look at you closer, though you simply shook your head and expressed your disapproval with sharp, brisk chimes. There was a minute of silence before Rhysand said your name with a low growl, a warning.  “There’s no telling what you’d attract now that you’re a pixie, there’s a reason why no one has seen any for centuries – they’ve been killed and enslaved for entertainment.” Your body stiffened from his words, the Attor and dark faeries’ laughter resounding in your head, but you refused to respond. You couldn’t bring yourself to take his hand, take part of his power, not when his powers were restricted as is – and you would never forgive yourself if something happened to him because of it. Another minute passed before he placed his hand back on the bed, his voice soft. “...It would let you speak to me through your head, you know – if you had part of my power. You could speak normally that way.”  You turned to look at him, his starry eyes looking down at the black silk sheets. “I haven’t heard your voice since that night, that party,” he paused to relive the memory. “I was trying to get through her mental shields when you warned me about the wine, but I cast those words away and paid the price and now– now I can barely remember your voice.” His hand made a white-knuckled fist, his eyes closed to try to conceal his pain and regret, his self-hatred. “If anything happened to you, if you died, I wouldn’t know what to do. I’d probably lose all hope.” You walked towards the edge of the bed and pried his fist open before reaching out to place a hand on his palm. His magic pierced through your body, and it was painful for a brief moment before you saw the tattoo emerge in the centre of his palm – the black star constellations making your chest tighten when you saw it on your own. “I don’t regret the things I had done that night, at her party.” You couldn’t stop the thoughts, the words that left your head when you finally spoke to him. “I forced you to take me, and I would do it time and time again if it meant you didn’t go through this alone, whether I turned into a pixie or something else.” Rhysand opened his eyes to meet yours, tears being held back as you continued. “I won’t let you endure all this pain and suffering by yourself, not when I’m here – I’m still your emissary, even under her ruling – and I refuse to serve anyone else but you.” Everything was still for a few minutes before you saw his lips curl up slightly. It wasn’t a full smile, it wasn’t even half of one, but it made something pull and yank at your chest before you willed it away.  “...I’ve missed your voice,” he murmured, blinking the tears away. “You always have a way with words, it’s why I made you my emissary.” He got up from the floor before sitting on the bed, seemingly waiting for Amarantha to summon him before you flew up to his lap. “Through the hardships and to the stars Rhys,” You reminded him, the words making him place a thumb on your cheek to caress it softly. Your chest wrenched again as he repeated it back to you. “Through the hardships, and to the stars.”

You and Rhysand went to the Spring Court’s borders when you learned that Tamlin had become more fierce and merciless with Amarantha’s faeries in recent months. It didn’t take long for you to realise that he was trying to hide and protect something from Amarantha, and you had risked your life to fly to his manor and look through one of the windows.

There, Tamlin and Lucien were speaking to a female that you couldn’t recognise, and she didn’t have any pointed ears or any magic about her. You could hear nothing but your heartbeat as you pieced everything together, and by the time the High Lord and emissary realised something was amiss, you had flown back to Rhysand.

You landed on Rhysand’s shoulder, gasping for air as you opened your mind and shared everything you had seen moments before.  “They’ve done it– They found– There’s a human woman in the manor–”  Rhysand had told you about the Spring Court and their curse from Amarantha when you tried to think of ways to break her spells and ruling. Tamlin had forty-nine years to find a human woman who’d kill a faerie but still fall in love with him, and if he broke the curse in time, he would surely bring Amarantha’s reign to an end. “–They still have time to break the curse, there’s four months left!”  Your wings fluttered from all the information you uncovered, but Rhysand was still deep in your thoughts and didn’t respond until he had taken everything in. “That woman has been there for a while if she hasn’t tried to leave the manor or cross the wall, but there’s no telling if she truly loves him, and if she’d tell him word for word.” “Maybe she can’t bring herself to tell him right now – or maybe she’s waiting for the right time or place.” You could tell that he wasn’t completely convinced, but there was nothing else that could be used as leverage against Amarantha at this point. The Day, Summer and Winter Court had tried to rebel early on, but there was no stopping the High Queen’s magic, not when she had most of the High Lord’s magic. “But the most important thing now is that woman, she’s all that’s left – Calanmai is next month, and the manor will be left wide open while everyone else attends the Great Rite – there’s no telling what could happen to her then if no one’s there to protect her.” You spoke like an emissary then, your words firm and unwavering. Rhysand had stared for a moment, as if he’d forgotten that side of you, the side that held strength and willpower whenever you were doing negotiations and alliances. It seemed that he was in awe, though there was another emotion there that you couldn’t discern. “I’ll convince Amarantha to let us attend by bringing back traitors,” he finally said. “She’ll also want to know who Tamlin picks as the Maiden before she has their head.”

And on the night of Calanmai, right before the ceremony took place, you saw the human woman being cornered by three picts as they tried to drag her to a secluded part of the forest. Her hair and face were slightly concealed by her hooded cloak, but there was no mistaking that human scent when it stood out from everything else.

Rhysand’s presence was enough to make those dreaded lesser faeries scurry away, though the human pulled out a dagger to try and defend herself. You flew in front of the blade, and Rhysand nearly grabbed you to pull you back to safety before you raised your empty palms and opened your mind to speak aloud.

“You shouldn’t be here, it’s not safe for humans to walk around on Calanmai.” Your voice was soft and gentle, and the woman lowered her dagger slightly before taking a step back. “I’m not alone, my friends brought me here.” Her eyes shot to the bonfires and the cave in the far distance. “I got separated from them before I got lost.” A lie of course – she was most certainly looking for Tamlin, though it was clear she didn’t know what she was getting herself into, and what Calanmai was all about. Rhysand took a step closer to you, which made her raise her dagger again. “Your friends shouldn’t have taken you here, the ceremony is about to start – the High Lord of the Spring Court will become a Hunter and choose a female faerie to make his Maiden, while everyone else engages in physical, carnal activities to help restore the magic in the lands for Spring.” Her eyes widened at your words, her face going red while her grip on her dagger faltered. “But my friends, they’re looking for me–” “There will be other faeries, like the ones you met, who will think you wish to join in.” Your voice became firm, and she stilled at your words. “Please, go back to where you were before, and make sure you don’t come out until morning.” She hesitated, unsure whether to believe you or not before Rhysand spoke up.  “My friend and I mean you no harm, truly.” He looked at you before looking back at the woman. “You should go somewhere far from here, before more faeries pick up your scent and start to look for you.” Everything was silent for a moment, and you thought that she would run to the bonfires and cave before she put her dagger down. “...Thank you.” She murmured, before she turned to the other direction and hurried back to the manor. It hadn’t taken long for Rhysand to find the picts and rework their minds to make them the traitors that Amarantha had been looking for, but you couldn’t stop thinking about that human woman. Should you have tried to tell her about the curse, all the spells? Would she have believed you?  “There’s two months left,” You whispered to Rhysand when he came back into the dark room. “Do you think that woman loves him? That she’ll tell him?” You waited for his response, and he looked as if he didn’t know whether to tell you what he truly thought or try to lie. He sat beside you and stared at the floorboards. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. Amarantha doesn’t know about that human, and Tamlin’s managed to take care of her all this time. Maybe she’ll be the one to do it.” Maybe, that was his true answer. He was uncertain himself, and truthfully, you were too. There wasn’t much you could do now, all you could do was wait. But two months passed, and you and Rhysand had accompanied Amarantha when she marched into the Spring Court with the Attor and the other dark faeries. Tamlin and Lucien had been waiting in the dining room when she entered the manor, and the human woman was nowhere to be seen.  The High Lord and his emissary didn’t put up a fight and went willingly, and you had screamed and cursed at them both in your head, paying no mind to when Rhysand looked at you for a brief moment before he went back to playing his part of Amarantha’s dutiful pet. And when you were back in that dark room, you had collapsed on the floorboards and wept to the Mother.  Forty-nine years, that’s how long you had been a pixie, how long Rhysand had been Amarantha’s slave. There was no telling how long Amarantha’s reign would last for now, whether the other High Lords would try to organise another rebellion or the King of Hybern would finally step in. But you couldn’t bring yourself to lose hope now. If Rhysand hadn't lost hope, then neither would you. The human woman was strong-willed enough to go to Calanmai with nothing but a hooded cloak and a few daggers – maybe she’d come back for Tamlin and come Under The Mountain. Maybe.

Taglist: @saltedcoffeescotch ʚїɞ

[russsiangirl]

a cowboy's sweetheart. ( dodge mason x you! )

North Carolina, 2016. 

You had never understood the hype behind rodeos, a bunch of guys practically begging to get injured in some way just for riding a bull? Well, that was bullshit if you had ever seen it. And you were about to. 

Your friend Lauren had practically begged for you to come, she had even bought you a pair of cowboy boots for the occasion! Lauren had a weird obsession with cowboys since this one boy in 8th grade, the year when the two of you got really close. Ever since then, you two had been glued at the hip, a thorn in each other’s sides as well. But here you two were, in college, together! Practically living the dream. “Please come, just this once!” Lauren pleaded, standing at the door of your shared dorm. You look at her with a sigh falling from your lips. She was persistent, but you just wished she would be persistent with other things. She looked at you with puppy dog eyes and repeated your name. “Fine,” You said with a huff, shaking your head. You couldn’t believe this. “I’ll go to your cowboy thing.” Lauren practically leaped with excitement as you agreed to this thing. You smiled back, watching as she dropped the cowboy boots at the door. Yeah, you were not wearing those. Over your dead body. 

at the rodeo… So you ended up wearing the cowboy boots. As you and your friends made your way to the stadium, you couldn’t help but take in your surroundings. “The toughest sport on dirt, huh? My ass.” You scoffed as your friend nudged your shoulder with a giggle. You didn’t really understand why she liked cowboys this much. It honestly astonished you. Cowboys were never really your type. But maybe, just maybe would this change your mind. You weren’t against liking cowboys, it just never really stuck with you. “Noo, you just need to see it to understand it.” Lauren clung onto your arm as she looked around like a kid in a candy store. You were glad she was excited. You wanted Lauren to be happy. You looked around at your other friends, Aubrey, Stella, Brianna. They weren’t huge cowboy fans, yet they went along. You had heard all about their nights with the different cowboys. As y’all found your seats in the bleachers your attention was drawn to the current cowboy in the chute. He donned a cream-colored cowboy hat and you could hear your friends giggling next to you. The announcer’s voice went off with a rumble, you listened closely trying to find out who this mysterious cowboy was. 

“Let’s go guys as we now have Dodge Mason from Martinsburg, West Virginia!” You raised a suspecting eyebrow, Dodge Mason was certainly a cowboy name, no doubt about it. The stadium immediately erupted with cheers as the announcer continued, naming the bull that Dodge was going to be riding. You and your friends made your way down closer to the fence, trying to get a better view. Your friend Brianna seemed like she knew this cowboy. He had probably been here before, you thought. You watched intently as he gave the nod to be released and watched as the bull tried to buck him off. The roll of his hips to stay balanced was hypnotizing, you watched as his face contorted with concentration. There was a cloud of dust that followed as the bulls hooves’ scuffed the dirt. You never had thought that bull-riding, for fucks sake, could be so.. entrancing? Your gaze didn’t leave him, the way he looked so stable on the bull that was so desperately trying to buck him off. It looked like second-nature for him, probably was too. He was, what, 52nd in the world? That must’ve been pretty high up there. You were sadly taken out of your trance as the bell went off, signaling that the 8 seconds were over, that the cowboy had made it.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a champion!” The entire stadium broke out in cheers and yells and whistles. You and your friends immediately hopped up and cheered as well. Why wouldn’t you? He had just won! It was astonishing! Anybody who could win at one of these things deserved some fucking applause. You beamed as you continued to applaud, though the cowboy didn’t have much reaction. Like he was used to this? 

Your gaze tracked him as he hopped off the bull. The helpers came over to reign the bull back over, except they couldn’t.  The bull rushed at the cowboy and you examined how his eyes widened in fear before he bolted over practically to where you were, his cowboy hat falling over the fence. Your heart pounding in your ears as you reached down to pick it up, offering it back to him.

“Oh no, you keep it.” He nods at you with a small smirk and you find yourself smiling back. His voice was nice, it was the kind of voice that could calm you down when you couldn’t sleep at night. A voice that was just naturally comforting.. Now that you could see him up close you started to see things about him. LIke how he had a small splattering of freckles on his face or how part of his left eye was brown. You looked down at your feet before setting the hat on your head. Dodge gave you a small nod before hopping off of the fence and making his way back to the exit. Maybe cowboys weren’t so bad after all..

Your friends immediately giggle and swoon behind you as you smile and you couldn’t help but find yourself smiling as well. Who knows, maybe you’d go looking for Dodge Mason later. There was just something about him that was so captivating. Something that made you need more, like a drug. You wanted to see what was up with this mysterious cowboy. You needed to see him again.

uhhhh yeah there's chapter one for you guys!! sorry that its so short this is my first time posting anything like this enjoy :3

[death-limes]

Say, which characters in HB and HH do you hate the most character wise and then design wise

OHHH MAN i could write an entire video essay about this topic lmao, let me try to be as brief as possible

~~~

Hazbin - Worst Character: This one's hard, there are a few characters who probably suck but I just don't know that much about them. But based on what I know now, honestly…? Charlie. Coinsidering that… I think Faustisse?… confirmed that she's over 200 years old, the sheer level of naivete on her part is just annoying and unbelievable. She's over twice as old as Alastor, she should not be swayed so easily by him. As far as I'm aware she's not in a Disney Princess situation where she was shut inside the castle walls her entire life (PLEASE correct me if I'm wrong on that though) so there's no reason why she shouldn't be at least a little savvy to the ways of sinner demons. She should also have been able to see the VERY OBVIOUS SIGNS that Vaggie used to be an exorcist. Even Carmilla comments that it's super fuckin obvious; the Princess of Hell herself should be knowledgeable enough to pick up on hints that even the fandom picked up on when it was just the pilot. Overall, Charlie just comes across as kinda stupid imo. I don't find myself rooting for her at all.

Hazbin - Worst Design: Alastor. I know he may not necessarily look the worst, and I do in fact simp for him, but his design does absolutely NOTHING that a character design is supposed to do. Namely, it doesn't tell us anything about him & it doesn't help him stand out from the cast. Nothing about his design is uniquely 1930s (nobody wore their hair like that, pinstripe suits started in the 1800s and continue to be popular today, monocles were more of an 1800s thing and were considered old-fashioned by the 30s) or deer-esque (his ears really do not look like dear ears at all, and his "antlers" are just microscopic salad forks that don't even show up on his silhouette). The whole Voodoo thing, aside from being super disrespectful to a literal religion that is still actively practiced, is also so inconsequential to his character that it can be removed entirely and change NOTHING about him. Any of his traits that are in line with the Voodoo thing can still exist without it -- him being a trickster and a dealmaker, mostly. All the blacklight stuff doesn't match his aesthetic at all: in Princess and the Frog where everything was 1920s it gave a magic effect, but in Hazbin where all different time periods comingle it just gives a raver effect, which doesn't fit his anti-modern preferences at all. Also the living-shadow thing is yet another direct ripoff from Dr. Facilier (that might just be in the pilot though I'm not sure), I think the living microphone is a better route to take if you want him to have a spiritual companion type of thing; it's more relevant to his theming and more original. And of course none of this even touches on the "he's half-black" bullshit excuse that only came after V*v received backlash about the Voodoo thing. And it doesn't even solve the issue anyway. A mixed-race man from the 1930s would make for a very interesting character IF that unique experience/identity was actually integrated into his character in any noticeable way, but it's not. It was just slapped on at the last minute. Ugh. I could write an entire essay about Alastor alone tbh.

Helluva - Worst Character: Fizzarolli, but mostly when he was first introduced. Aesthetically he's the closest thing that I have to a "blorbo" in this show, but in the Ozzie's episode he just gave me the most rancid vibes ever. Definitely a "asexuality doesn't exist, you just haven't been with ME yet~" type of person. Admittedly that's more of a personal preference thing and less of a poor characterization; they're in the Lust ring, that type of attitude is kind of expected. What IS poor characterization, however, is his "development" later on when he and Ozzie basically get their own arc. His entire personality changes to be much softer and like…. idk, very obviously a trauma VICTIM and not so much of a potential trauma CAUSER? His character is not nearly as abrasive, but there's no corresponding event that would cause such a change. It just seems like now that he's supposed to be a sympathetic character, they changed his personality to be more appealing. He's not nearly as mean and rude as he used to be. Ozzie has a similar thing going on but it's not quiiiiite as severe, and he's saved from being the Worst by having a far more interesting and unique design. (If you had asked who I think has the BEST design in Helluva, I'd probably say Ozzie.)

Helluva - Worst Design: Beelzebub, no contest. A lot of people seemed to have a problem with her being bee-themed instead of fly-themed like the real Beelzebub in demonology, but that honestly doesn't bother me; I'm not expecting any Hellaverse stuff to be super accurate to The Real Lore so any tiny reference they can slip in (like with Ozzie's design) is just gravy. To me, bee and fly are close enough, I think it counts as a reference. Plus, the bee theme goes well with Gluttony ("nectar" is a common synonym for delicious food) and calling her Queen Bee is an easy way to make her name more appealing/sexy than, yknow. "Beelzebub." What DOES bother me is her canine aspect. Why is she a sparkledog? What is the logic behind that? Why isn't she huge-by-default like Ozzie and Mammon? (You'd think GLUTTONY of all sins would be a big character!) It really just feels like V*v wanted Ke$ha to have a cameo role as a major character and just arbitrarily picked one of the sins for her to be. So the character design has Ke$ha in mind faaaaar more than it has Beelzebub in mind. ***(Funny thing about Queen Bee: for a solid week after her episode came out, I was actually fooled by this page from an RP wiki: [https://hazbin-hotel-and-helluva-boss-rp.fandom.com/wiki/Beelzebub] The explanation that I'd gleaned for this version of her is that the picture shown is the REAL Beelzebub, and the one we see in the show is her daughter by the lord of Hellhounds, Cerberus, which explains her canine features. Queen Bee Jr. is the heiress to her mom's title in the same way Charlie is the heiress to Lucifer's title. The picture shown on that page is just SUCH a better design, and it looks like the show's style, and she seems to be a giant like Ozzie and Mammon…. can you blame me for being like "OH that makes sense!!" Cut to me a week later finding out this is just a fan RP wiki. Siiiigh.)

[polyamorousmood]

My gf (mtf) is fairly monogamous but I'm not necessarily, especially with sex. I have an offer from our mutual male friend (cis) to try penetration since I (afab nb) am terrified but curious about it and he's one of the only cis guys I'd feel comfortable trying that with. I have hooked up with him once before, prior to meeting my gf, and it was really good. My gf is fairly supportive about it, one of the things that really works for us sex-wise is that neither of us want penetration in our relationship. I'm just absolutely terrified of making her insecure and ruining her friendship with our friend. I know I can function fine with blurring the lines between sex, friends, and partners, but she's got the trauma of an ultra-Christian childhood and has so much constant dysphoria that I'm scared something like this could ruin our relationship. We talked so much when he first offered and I know she's not opposed, but I just keep thinking about all the horror stories I've read about couples opening up their relationship or trying poly after being mono and it ruining them. Especially if I end up wanting it more than just once with our friend. I don't particularly need advice, I'm just laying in bed next to her in the dark scrolling horrifying stories on Reddit while talking with our friend over text getting all up in my head about our dynamics and I don't have anyone to vent to about this right now. I figure a polyam blog on tumblr will at least understand that nuances that come with figuring this stuff out. Thanks for listening

It's really fair that you'd be worried about this, and it's a really good sign for everything that you want to do this consciously and carefully - if at all. Sincerely the worst thing about polyamory (and related things) is how isolating it can be. 😣Oftentimes, the only person you can even discuss problems with is the partner who is also all up in the problem. Which I clearly don't need to explain to you how that sucks.

You said you didn't need anything but listening. But like, it's me. So.... 🤷‍♀️

Reddit and the forums are the mother of all selection biases: happy people generally don't feel the need to post about their lives online, and people who have found something sustainable but not completely perfect don't feel like their input is valuable because they "still have problems" even though how things can work really well or well enough is probably some of the most valuable information to you!

It's not your fault if your partner lies about or grossly mis-estimates her okayness level on this. And if she is the type of person to usually lies about or grossly mis-estimates her okayness level with things, its bound to be a problem at some point, even if you can successfully avoid it being a problem on this one issue by being really anxious.

🗣📢EXPLICITLY UNSOLICITED ADVICE WARNING🚨🚨 Everything up to this point could be construed as "just thoughts" but the following is unambiguously advice. Stop reading now if you want to continue in your unadvized state. She cannot assure you with 100% certainty she will not have a problem with it. If she tries, all she'll do is lock herself into not being able to tell you if she does. The only helpful thing in these situations I have found is to establish a procedure for what to do if there is a problem. Give her the tools to find something that's comfortable for her. Give her the certainty that you will listen to her, talk things through (which is sometimes a solution on its own!), and not hold it against her if you need to make changes. Then you can rest assured if there are problems, they won't last.

When you're doing "but I don't want to hurt herrrrrr😖" anxiety calculus, remember your non monogamous tendencies probably aren't going to stop! So also evaluate if you'd be okay with never ever doing anything with someone besides your gf. And if you're not. It will probably hurt her worse if you say you're fine with staying monogamous forever now, and then feel like you're about to snap two years later. So just like. Factor that into your calculations, too, haha!😅

And as a close

I'm with you. I feel you. This blog has DMs open if you want to talk more organically or about details you don't want to be public. No matter how this shakes out, you will get through to the other side.💙💖🖤

[bibibi-tchx]

Does lil man ever have moments where he just needs to be with both mami and papi at all times? I can see lil man just waking up extra clingy needing to have both of them in his eye sight at all times just wanting their comfort :(

oh anon of course he does

especially when hes teeny tiny- being that small, where hes smaller than about 1yrs old, everything seems that weirder. like, the world feels as though its going to swallow him whole, and he can’t even think of any way to describe it- all he knows is that he wants his papi and his mami right there right now.

which cues him waking up in his normal adult bed, and feeling as though everything is out of place, and hes much too small to be in his big boy bed- tears ensue, and he is sobbing

hes too small to even communicate whats wrong, so he just continues to cry, trying his best to call out for both of his caregivers but because hes way way too small, all he can do is repeat “ma” over and over again. even a full “mami” or “papi” feels too out of reach for his tongue, so hes just babbling a very wet, a very sad sounding “ma” the best he can in between all of the hiccups

of course it doesnt take long for both of his mami and papi to be in his room, picking him up and consoling him, rhea rocking him gently from side to side whilst damians right next to her, singing his usual lullabies to try and soothe dominik

sobby lil babie immediately shuts up, to the point where rhea and damian then proceed to turn to each other and make small quizzical faces- like, it was so swift for him to stop crying, and hiccuping not long after, that they are puzzled; they make the look.

theres a look that all caregivers have when their baby does something that is baffling, but they are still amused by it. trust me here. cgs yall know the look im on about. <3

“im going to run downstairs to grab him a smoothie or something for him to drink, solid foods might be a bit too overwhelming for him at the moment.” comes out from damian after a few minutes of them playing with the very teeny baby, with damian and rhea making different faces and such and watching how hes reacting to try and gage exactly how small dominik has woken up that morning

rhea’s nodding, because thats a fair idea, and its also a way for damian to have another means of hiding veggies in dominik’s diet and she can’t oppose that really

but the moment is out of dominik’s sight from where him and rhea are cuddling on the bed, with rhea holding up his lamb to his face to try and distract their iddy biddy boy, even though it hasnt worked the moment damian turns his back from their cuddle on the bed, and dominik’s wails ensue once more, probably even louder than before

he deffo tries to clumsily reach out and grab at his papi too, needing to have him nearby at all times or else all hell is gonna break loose

damian aint all that impressed either, feeling absolutely horrible that he has to leave, “oh niñito, papi’s got to go make you some breakfast. dont you wanna eat?”

surprise surprise, dominik shakes his head, “nuhuh- pa!” looking so forlorn, purely upset

rhea looks upset too- she doesn’t really know what to do, but she knows that if damian leaves, shes gonna need to follow him with dominik in her arms, “dont you want to have a cuggle, baby blueberry? arent you comfy, hm?” because she knows that dominik dont do well when changing locations when hes that small

dominik nods, bcus yuh duh of course hes comfy!! he has his mami, and he has his papi. its a no brainer, however he cant even think to deal with not having both of them nearby, so he starts to tear up a little bit at the thought, but hes still so so comfy, which means that hes nodding, but hes still crying

caregivers confusion to the max

“are you comfy, little one?” in the most soothing whisper that rheas voice has ever gone, the pads of her thumbs gentily wiping away at dominiks tears

“mhm.” with a little hiccup, big brown eyes staring up at damian, bcus nuhuh papi cannot go

it definitely is a whole back and forth, until, eventually, rhea has to bring the babie around with her everywhere

thank u anon !! <3

[guilty-pleasures21]

Dragon!Miguel

@captain-liminal it took me a while, but I did it! I also have to credit @exhaslo on this for supporting me and answering my dragon questions and giving me a foundation to build on. I hope it's all right and I look forward to any future requests!

Based on this request.

Warnings: none. Just grumpy and whipped Miguel 😉.

----------------------------------------------------------

     “Miguel!” Gabriel yelled, chasing his brother down the palace hallway. “It will be good for both our kingdoms-”

     “It will be good for her kingdom,” Miguel interrupted, refusing to slow down his unrelenting pace. “What do we need an alliance for?” Of course they didn’t need an alliance: not when he was the most powerful fire dragon to be born in five centuries!

     Gabriel rolled his eyes at the haughty implication of his brother's question. “Well, number one: you need an heir, obviously, and combined with her powers, your children would be the most powerful beings to have ever graced this earth!”

     Miguel let out a snort as he pushed open the double doors, unconvinced by his brother’s argument. “I'm only twenty-three, Gabriel. What do I need heirs for?”

     He finally stopped, arms folded across his chest and brow furrowed stubbornly as he turned around to face his brother. Gabriel clenched his jaw and took a deep breath, trying to hold onto his patience. Dios, his brother was annoying. “For when you make stupid, reckless decisions that cut your lifespan by half, hermano.” 

     “Hmph.” Miguel sniffed as he glanced away, not wanting to admit that his brother maybe possibly could have been a little bit right. But that didn’t mean that he needed kids; it just meant that he had to be a little more … thoughtful. 

     His heart thudded in his chest as his brother’s expression turned pensive and Gabriel jumped on the opportunity to change his mind. 

     “Look, just … just be a little open to the idea when you meet her tomorrow,” he suggested cautiously. “I'm not saying you have to fall head over heels in love with her immediately, but just … be nice, Miguel.”

     Miguel narrowed his eyes at the plea in his brother’s voice, but continued to avoid his gaze. “I can be nice.”

     Gabriel raised his eyebrows, fixing Miguel with a knowing look. Miguel slid his gaze over to him and huffed when he saw his expression. 

     “Whatever. I’m going to take a flight.” And before Gabe could stop him, Miguel had turned around and leapt into the air, his body lengthening into his dragon form as he flew away.

     He clenched his fists as he strolled around the edge of the village, his thoughts still focused on his earlier conversation with his brother. How dare his ministers arrange an alliance on his behalf?! Without even consulting him about it first?! Of course, if they had consulted him about it, then he'd immediately have disagreed. Which was probably why they hadn't asked him in the first place. But to marry a woman he'd never met?! To give himself over to her and have children with her?! The thought lit his insides on fire. He stopped suddenly as an unfamiliar scent wafted through the air towards him: warm, slightly spicy, like a good soup being cooked atop a strong flame. He looked up and his heart stopped when his eyes landed upon the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. Her hair was dark, the silky strands cascading down her delicate shoulders as she moved gracefully along the path; her skin was golden, like she'd been left in the fire for the perfect amount of time and would be comfortingly warm to the touch; and her eyes were round and dazzling, framed perfectly by long, curly lashes that brushed her cheeks everytime she blinked. She was perfect. Miguel rushed over to her, desperate to make her his, but he stopped abruptly when he reached her, his mind going blank as he got close enough to see the shards of gold scattered around her irises. “Hi.”

     She raised an eyebrow, amused by the handsome stranger who had approached her without a plan in mind. 

     “Hello,” she greeted him calmly, her voice as melodious as a nightingale’s. “Nice to meet you, sir. May I know your name?”

     She held a hand out to him, but he watched it carefully, hesitating. Finally, he took a step back from her, afraid that he might accidentally burn her with his flames - there were a few downsides to being the most powerful fire dragon to be born in five centuries. “Miguel.”

     “Miguel …” she repeated carefully. His heart pounded in his chest at the sound of his name in her sweet voice; at the sight of her rosy lips puckering to form the letters. Dios, she was beautiful. 

     “And yours?” Miguel asked, his features melting into a dazed smile as he continued to gaze at her. 

     “X,” she replied, her heart fluttering at the look he gave her. He really was handsome, this tall stranger, especially when he smiled like that. 

     Miguel felt his insides start to heat up at the wide grin on her pretty face and he took another step away from her for good measure. X raised an eyebrow, confused, but Miguel refused to provide her with an explanation, embarrassed by his lack of control over his own emotions and powers. 

     “I … I don't recall having ever seen you here before, my lady,” Miguel said, wanting to carry on the conversation and spend more time in the company of this exquisite creature. X’s eyes widened in surprise. 

     “Oh!” she gasped, suddenly looking a little nervous as she stammered out an explanation. “I … I have come to visit some distant relatives of mine.”

     Miguel nodded slowly, filing the information away for later: if he was able to find out which family she belonged to, then he’d have a definitive way of finding her when they eventually parted ways later that day. “And how long are you planning on staying for?”

     X pursed her lips in thought and Miguel felt the saliva begin to pool in his mouth as he wondered what they would taste like against his. “It depends.”

     “On what?”

     Her smile turned mischievous and she took a moment to let her gaze travel over his broad and muscular form. “On if I find a good enough reason to stay.”

     She glanced up at him from beneath her dark and curly lashes and Miguel reflected her thrilled expression as they two of them gazed at each other in silence, the both of them studying and admiring the other shyly. Finally, Miguel cleared his throat and straightened. 

     “Well, perhaps I can help you with that,” he suggested, gesturing to the path in front of them. “If you would join me for a tour, my lady?” A soft giggle escaped X’s lips as she took a step forward and Miguel swore his heart melted in his chest as he followed beside her. 

     Gabriel tugged on the collar of his shirt, trying to dissipate some of the heat that had gathered around his neck. His brother was furious - he could feel it in the stifling heat that radiated off of him and engulfed the entire room. But he refused to give in to his brother's temper - someone had to make sure he didn't blow up all their diplomatic relations when he became king and if Gabriel was the only one unafraid of him enough to do it, then do it he would. “Calmate, hermano.”

     Miguel continued to glare out the window, arms folded across his chest as he refused to look at his brother. He grunted in response and a puff of smoke blew out of his nose. 

     “Presenting Princess (your full name) of Risendelle,” the steward announced, stepping aside to allow their esteemed guest to make her way into the room. Miguel turned to face the princess, the irritated scowl still spread across his face: he didn’t want some spoiled princess he’d never even seen before. He wanted the lady he'd met yesterday - the most perfect treasure he'd ever laid his eyes on. But then X walked into the room and Miguel’s heart stopped in his chest.

     She paused, startled to see the handsome stranger she’d met yesterday waiting for her. He looked especially impressive in his princely outfit though, his dark blue tailcoat perfectly matching the black collar and trousers he’d been fitted in. She dropped into a curtsey, then flashed him a smile when she straightened, her heart fluttering at the dazed grin stretched across his lips. 

     “Thank you for journeying all this way, Princess,” Gabriel began, sweeping into a low bow in greeting. “We are grateful to finally be able to make your acquaintance.” He straightened and slid his gaze over to Miguel, still frozen in place, stupidly wide smile fixed on his face as he gazed at the princess. Gabe frowned and elbowed his brother’s side, finally pulling him out of his reverie. 

     “Uh, yes! My lady!” Miguel exclaimed, giving a bow as well. “I mean, my princess! I mean, uh, not my, but … um … hi?” 

     X giggled at his flustered demeanour before straightening her expression once again. “Thank you for the warm welcome, Your Highnesses. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well.”

     Gabe glanced between his brother and the princess, the both of them smiling shyly at one another in silence. Then he let out a sigh of relief: thankfully, his brother seemed enamoured enough with the princess to have tried to set her on fire immediately. Not that it would have mattered anyway considering that she was a phoenix - another reason he’d been so desperate to make this alliance work. 

     “Right! Well! Miguel?” Gabe turned to him, clapping his hands together to grab his brother’s attention. “Why don't you take the princess on a tour of the Royal Gardens?”

     “Huh? Oh! Yes! Would you like to see the gardens, princess? They are especially lovely this time of the year,” Miguel agreed, gesturing to the doors. X gave him a sweet smile as she passed him and he felt his heart start racing in his chest. They strolled together quietly for a while, the both of them flashing each other the occasional thrilled smile. Then finally, Miguel broke the silence. “So, about yesterday …”

     “Oh! Right! I came to your kingdom a day earlier so I could get a more accurate sense of what it would be like,” she explained, her expression turning sheepish for a moment. “I didn't expect to get a more accurate sense of what you would be like too.”

     Miguel let out a huff of amusement at that and X tried to take a step closer to him, but he moved away, maintaining that bit of distance between them. 

     “Miguel,” she began, stopping in her tracks so he’d be forced to turn around and face her. He fixed her with a quizzical look and she gave him a little pout. “Why won't you let me touch you?”

     His eyes widened, taken aback by her bluntness. 

     “I-I … I just …” He lowered his head, embarrassed, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. “I don't want to hurt you, princesa.”

     She swallowed hard as her heart fluttered at the nickname. “Then don't.”

     Miguel glanced up at her again, surprised by her response. “It's … not as easy as that.”

     She tilted her head, waiting for an explanation. Dios, she was cute. Miguel slid his gaze away from hers, embarrassed. “I … I tend to … lose control of my powers … when I get too … ‘emotional’.”

     She took a step closer to him causing him to panic and take a step back. 

     “Miguel …” She raised her eyebrows at him. “I'm a phoenix. We don't burn in the flame; we rise from it.” Her eyes flashed golden, fire dancing around her irises, and Miguel sucked in a breath at the captivating sight. X quickly took advantage of the distraction to step forward and place her hand on his forearm, letting him know that she wasn’t afraid. Miguel swallowed hard at the rare moment of physical contact, but didn’t pull away, allowing her instead to move even closer to him. X stretched onto her toes and leaned over to murmur in his ear. 

     “If you can become this shy from me just touching your arm, oh great and fearsome dragon prince, however are you going to make love to me on our wedding night?” She lowered herself back to the ground and grinned as he lit up in embarrassment, swallowing the both of them with his fierce and beautiful flames. 

     He clenched his fists, trying to tamp down his fire, but then she dropped her hand to his side and told hold of his, twining their fingers together. Miguel relaxed at the encouraging smile on her face, letting his fire take over the both of them. 

     He studied her carefully where she sat at her dresser, fully made up for the ball that night. He pointed at one of the many piles of jewellery around the room, gesturing for her lady’s maids to hurry over to it. “Put that on, too; the head thing. The one that clips into her hair and hangs over her forehead.”

     X flashed Miguel  an amused look. “Querido. Any more jewellery and I won't be able to walk!”

     “I’ll carry you,” he replied immediately. X let out a soft snicker, amused by how much he doted on her: he was almost like a child sometimes, chasing after her with whatever new treasure he’d found and then insisting she carry it around for at least a week to show it off to everyone. But she’d have to draw a line eventually considering the rapidly growing hoard accumulating in their shared bedroom. 

     “That wouldn’t be a very good first impression, mi amor,” she pointed out, not wanting to let down her new people at her introductory ball tonight. 

     His jaw tightened, annoyed by the knowledge that she was right. But then she flashed him one of her soft smiles and he felt some of the tension leave his body. “But … But …”

     “How about this,” X suggested calmly. “I'll wear the maang tikka if you let me remove one of these necklaces.”

     Miguel growled as she pointed to one of the many shiny necklaces layered elegantly across her neck. She was his wife - his most precious treasure of all - and he always felt a surge of pride whenever he saw her decked out in whatever finery he’d collected. Everything was just so much more beautiful when it was on her, so much shinier and so much more irresistible. But she was his wife and he never wanted her to be upset or uncomfortable.

     “Fine,” he grunted, folding his arms across his chest.

     X stood up when she saw the steam start wafting off of him. She sank down onto the bed beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing him soothingly. Miguel glanced away from her, not wanting to give in so easily, but then she pressed a kiss to the side of his head and he melted instantly. 

     She stood up and held her hands out to him, waiting for him to get up. “Vamos, querido. We’re going to be late otherwise.”

     Her husband smiled up at her as he took her hands and stood up too. He rubbed his thumbs across her skin, then guided her hands to his shoulders before sliding his around her waist. X giggled as he wrapped her up in his arms and Miguel felt his heart turn into a puddle before he leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. “Vamos, querida.”

     Her lady’s maid knocked on the door, waiting for a response before entering. But no reply came through. 

     “Ma’am? May I come in?” she called through the door. Silence. She opened the door a crack and tried again. “Ma’am? Are you a-”

     She gasped loudly when she saw a mound of blankets, pillows and hot water bottles piled on the bed. “Your majesty!”

     “I’m here!” X’s muffled voice broke through together with her hand, sticking out of the middle of the pile. “A little help, please?”

     The maid rushed over and started digging through the pile, tossing some items aside to clear a space for the queen. Finally, there was enough of a gap for her to sit up. She sucked in a deep breath of air as she stroked her swollen stomach. Then she turned to her maid with an amused smile. “I knew that dragons built nests too, but I didn’t know that they'd be this obsessive about it!”

     The maid held onto her arm as she stood up, helping her maintain her balance. “Yes, well, the King is … especially in touch with his dragon side.”

     X straightened her dress around her baby bump once she’d steadied herself. “Indeed. Well, while he is still out, perhaps I should seize the opportunity to take a turn about the gardens?”

     His claws maintained their firm grip on the crown the elves had gifted him at their meeting. He couldn’t wait to show it to his beautiful wife, his most glorious treasure of all. She’d make it look so much more dazzling, the intricately crafted golden vines sitting perfectly atop her tumbling dark curls. He spread his wings as he approached the Royal Gardens, the sudden resistance slowing him enough for him to transform back into his human form before landing gracefully on his feet. He smiled smugly at the way the crown glimmered in the sunlight as he made his way towards the palace - to the nest he’d so lovingly built for his pregnant little wife. But then her sweet scent wafted through the air and into his nose and he froze in his tracks. He spun around in the direction of the scent and his eyes narrowed into reptilian slits as the fury took over him. His wings popped out of his back and he sped off towards the Royal Gardens.

     She bent over to take a whiff of one of the many exquisite roses thoughtfully planted around the gardens. Then she caught the scent of her husband and turned around to greet him with a delighted smile on her face. Miguel stormed over to her in a cloud of smoke, the air around him radiating with heat. He swept her into his arms as soon as he reached her, holding her firmly against him and refusing to let her go. 

     “What are you doing out here, mi reina?!” he exclaimed, glancing around until his gaze landed on one of the guards unlucky enough to be situated nearby. “You! How dare you let the Queen leave her nest in her current state! I should have you-”

     X slid her fingers up her husband’s broad shoulders and into his hair, tilting his head down to hers. She glided her fingers along his scalp, calming him down until he was no longer on fire. “Querido. Calmate, mi amor. I was the one who chose to leave my nest. You can’t keep me locked up at all hours of the day, mi vida. I’m a bird, remember?”

     A plume of smoke escaped Miguel’s nostrils as he huffed in frustration. “But you need to rest, mi reina!”

     X retained the amused smile on her face: she always knew exactly how to deal with his temper. “Any more resting and I’ll forget how to walk, mi querido!”

     Miguel grunted at her response. But, as always, he ended up giving in to his wife. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then turned to walk with her as she continued around the gardens. 

     The midwife gave a victorious smile as she held the screeching baby in her arms. “It’s a girl!” 

     She handed the baby to Miguel who gazed down at her adoringly as he cuddled her against his chest. She was so pretty with her wide eyes that roamed around the room and her rosy lips that were pursed in curiosity and her tiny fingers that reached up to her father. He held a finger out to her and she grabbed it quickly before giving a little yawn that expelled a stream of flames. Miguel laughed at the display of power, delighted, then sank down onto the bed beside his wife. “¡Mira, querida! It’s our baby! Isn’t she such a treasure?!”

     X gave him a tired smile as he carefully transferred their daughter to her arms. She stroked the little wisps of their baby’s hair, then turned to smile at her husband. Her chest filled with warmth as she watched him play with their baby, tickling her gently as he made funny faces to try to get her to laugh. Their daughter sneezed, letting out another puff of flame, and X’s heart swelled as her husband laughed again. 

     “Yes,” she agreed softly. “The most precious treasure of all.”

[zhonglissummeroutfit]

[zaacoy]

Hiii I just wanna say that I love your art so frikin much like the way you draw is just so perfect like how??? bro Im stealing your hands so be cautious/j

anywayz

I dunno if your still doing Freenoodles suggestions but here's one if you are cuz Im absolutely obsessed with that ship rn:

so just Tang and Pigsy being relatively gay and someone litterly anyone (maybe MK I dunno) walk in and is so confused because my lil headcannon is they're Relationship is probably closeted if thats even the term idk Im like half asleep idk what Im doing

(Help why is this so long-)

Hihi!! Thank you!!!! You'll have to fight me to get my hands tho >:3c

Here's theyyyymm

[bonefall]

Hello! I absolutely adore Better Bones despite never reading beyond the first series of Warrior Cats. Last time I checked canon, Bramblestar was a kit that nearly died in a fire. So your canon is canon to me and it’s probably better that way.

I do have a question though. How big do your cats think the world is? The meaningful size of their world is from the Lake to the Forest to the Ocean, but I keep thinking of how medieval peasants sometimes had their whole lives uprooted for a crusade thousands of miles away, and wondering what Clan Cats think the real edges are. Do they see Ireland and France as mythical, far off lands filled with fairytale creatures? Do they know that anything exists beyond the oceans at all? The other side of possibility is that kittypets have given them some concept of human geography, and the cats can tell stories about a land further south than a cat could walk in a lifetime, where the stars are unrecognizable and the very moon is upside down.

Have fun with your worldbuilding!

Clan cats believe that the sky, earth, ground, and aquifers below are actually one big mobius strip, and that existence repeats from top-to-bottom. Water that soaks to the bottom ends up in the sky just as steam rises up to it.

Moles dig down so far that their pelts become gently touched by StarClan, and that's why they're so soft without shine.

The world in a horizontal sense is less important, they don't talk to kittypets very much, not enough for cultural diffusion to take place in regards to human geography. They are blissfully unaware of London, let alone anything beyond the coast of Albion.

The closest anyone's really come to learning more was Heartstar, when she was on her Dovewing Quest, seeing trains and a singing cat. She decided that this was not anything she needed to know about.

SO when they see something like the sea, they believe it's a really big lake. Airplanes are probably birds flying far away. Clan cats believe that StarClan is the greatest force in the world, so surely, wherever they choose for the cats to live must be the most beautiful of all. They're a pretty self-absorbed bunch, but more than that, culturally discourage "wandering" cats!

Depending on where they are exactly (this is why Albion isn't exactly the isle of Great Britain and it's been renamed, I'm shuffling some geography) they may also be able to see part of Wales, Ireland, or the Isle of Man from where they usually collect salt. Which just leads to them believing the ocean is just a big, salty lake, given time.