#working names for the bloom were also the wake and the rise!

[softmarsh]

YELLOWSTONE COLONIES SEASONS

let’s start off with something nice and simple: seasons!

yellowstone national park is a sprawling landscape located in the temperate coniferous forest biome, which is marked by warm summers and cool winters. being temperate, the land does cycle through four seasons—but, they’re not clearly defined by deciduous forest standards of 3-month-long springs, summers, autumns, and winters. additionally, because the dominant tree type is evergreens, observing the changes of the leaves is not a reliable indicator of the season.

because of this, the yellowstone cats have developed their own names, lengths, and identifiers for their seasons, where they look to animal behaviors to determine the current one!

THE BLOOM

the bloom is the equivalent of early spring, with march being the only month of this season. it is named after how the land wakens from its winter slumber, ‘blooming’ into a flourishing land of plenty once more. the most common indicators of the arrival of the bloom are:

the appearance of mountain bluebirds, western meadowlarks, ospreys, and american robins

the emergence of grizzly bears from hibernation

and humans snowplowing the park's interior roads

THE THAW

the second season is called the thaw, which equates to late spring and the entirety of summer. its duration is april to august, and it is called the thaw as it is the season when animal activity really kicks up. winter fully sheds its grip on the environment, and the cats do not yet have to prepare for the next freeze. it is marked by:

APRIL

the appearance of ruby-crowned kinglets and wilson's snipes

the emergence of black bears, marmots, ground squirrels, and chorus frogs from hibernation

bison calving

bison and elk returning to higher elevations, with elk dropping and regrowing their antlers

growth of buttercups, shooting stars, and pasqueflowers

and an increase in human visitors and cars on the road

MAY & JUNE

elk, moose, pronghorn, and bighorn sheep calving

wolf pups emerging from their dens

cutthroat trout starting to spawn

ruffed grouse starting to drum

growth of glacier lilies and bitterroot

water levels rising due to snowmelt

and humans fishing in the rivers

JULY & AUGUST

bison rut

water levels dropping

wildfires are more prone to occur

and a greater increase in human visitors and cars on the road

THE FEAST

the feast is the most important season, being their autumn before winter. taking place from september to october, the third season is named for how animals prepare for hibernation by becoming hyperphagic and stocking up on food! the traditional indicators of the start of this season are:

elk rut

animals preparing for hibernation

deciduous trees entering fall colors

snow accumulating at higher elevations

and a decrease in human visitors and cars on the road

THE FREEZE

the final season is called the freeze, which is appropriately named for being the colonies’ winter! grueling and arduous, the freeze tends to be the most challenging season to survive through, especially if one inadequately prepared during the feast. it spans november to february, and is signified by:

bighorn sheep rut

bison and elk migrating to lower elevations

mule and whitetail deer shedding and regrowing their antlers

coyotes and foxes snow diving

snow accumulating at lower elevations

and a greater decrease in human visitors and cars on the road

[rosieofcorona]

In the Blue Morning

Sharing this gentle little fic here again since the Solavellan girlies (genderless) are so back!!! In my mind I am sliding this across the table to you all. Also on Ao3, if you prefer. As always, thank you for reading! 💕

She cajoles him, some mornings, away from his office, from his maps and his books and his paintings and out among the newly-planted gardens, all their tight, unfurling blooms. 

It’s always empty at this hour, when most of Skyhold is still asleep, save for the guards in their high towers, the recruits in the practice yard. The only sound is the clang of their swords through the mist like distant bells, the only light the pink and gold of the nascent sun.

They have been careful, desperately careful not to draw undue attention, not to generate rumors that could harm the Inquisition in the future. It is easier on the road to find a quiet moment alone– to steal a kiss or hold a hand or put words to their love– but the castle, however safe, is full of eyes, forever watching.

It is only in the narrow, muted hours before dawn that Solas weaves his fingers with hers as they orbit the courtyard, side by side.

He names the blossoms as they pass, first in the trade tongue and then in Elvish, the softened syllables like music on his tongue. She repeats them half as gracefully, but he smiles at every attempt, correcting her gently now and again, praising her efforts.

“Gail’lealis,” he says, pointing out an elegant bellflower, its blue-white petals bundled tightly in green sepals.

It sounds off, even to her ear, when she says, “ Ga’lealis,” back.

They pause for a moment, and Solas turns and bends and plucks an early bloom from the same plant, rotating it slowly between his fingers, holding it up for examination. 

“Ga-il,” he repeats softly, separating the sounds. “Meaning ‘bell,’ in the common parlance.” 

“Ga-il,” she says again, correctly this time. 

“Followed by lealis , meaning ‘glass.’”

“Gail’lealis.”

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, tucking the flower behind her ear, the meaning vague yet all-encompassing. It is all beautiful– the morning, the garden, how she catches the light, his ancient language in her mouth, her mouth– 

Solas kisses her in the empty courtyard, parts her lips with a linguist’s tongue, and she kisses him back again and again as if each time might be the last. He wants to stay like this forever, wants the sun to forget to rise, wants the castle to sleep and sleep in an endless dream.

But the light keeps coming, every moment. The castle will wake, and they will see. 

And this will cost them, in the end. 

She is pink as the sky when they finally come apart, and continue their long walk around. 

“I hear you were out here yesterday,” she says, breaking the silence as they turn a corner. “Cullen says you beat him soundly at chess.” 

“It was a closer game than he thinks,” Solas says, but she has learned when he’s just being modest.

“Must not have been that close, because Bull says the same. As do Blackwall, and Varric, and Dorian, though he swears that you cheated.”  “I did no such thing!” 

When they turn again, the chessboard in question comes into full view, set and waiting on its table beneath an awning. 

“He seemed very certain,” she shrugs. “Though I suppose I could find out for myself.”

They stop again before the table, and Solas looks at her intently.  “Is that a challenge, dear Inquisitor?”

“That depends on your level of skill.”

She’s teasing him now, enticing him, a dynamic he’s come to enjoy. There are so few who impress him with thoughtfulness, who make him work at being clever.

“Very well, but you should know that I am merciless,” he warns, a contradiction to the chivalry of pulling out her chair. “Even to one I love.”

He takes the seat opposite her, the board and the pieces adorned in glittering dew. 

“I believe the Lady Inquisitor moves first.”

He sets a dozen little traps for her, a dozen clever gambits, and she evades them every time, to his astonishment. Where he moves to attack, she counters; where he baits her, she defends or retreats. By the end, with the sun fully risen overhead, they reach a deadlock, both depleted, neither victorious.

“Again?” She asks cheerfully, when they’ve finished. Already she is freeing her captives from his end of the table. “Don’t look so stunned, my love. Unless you’re trying to offend me.”

“Forgive me, vhenan,” he says, shaking his head. “You surprise me as always. It is rare to find an opponent so…discerning.” 

His beloved laughs with the morning breeze, a sound like air that surrounds and envelops him. 

“Rare to find one you can’t beat, you mean.” 

She’s right, of course– it is rare that he loses, even rarer that he plays against someone so evenly matched. He still can’t quite puzzle through it, where he went wrong, where she figured him out. 

He had gotten a lead on her early on, or so he thought– he had taken a tower, a mage, and two pawns– and left his queen open for the taking, which she had entirely ignored. She caught onto him quickly, though too late to win, and when she realized she couldn’t beat him, she had blocked him instead. 

Solas leans thoughtfully back in his chair, replaying their game in his mind. No matter how he tries to beat her, he finds no way through. She sees his scheming, sees him coming, cuts him off. 

“Why did you not take my queen, given the chance?”

“Because you gave me the chance,” she reasons. “You wouldn’t do that except to win.” 

“It could have been a tactical error.”  “It wasn’t,” she says assuredly, resetting the pieces along their battle lines. “If I had taken her, it would have left my king undefended from your mages.”  “You could have moved him.”  “For a turn or two. Then your knight would have circled back. Isn’t that right?” She looks up at Solas, her eyes smiling and sharp, affirmed in her answer already. “Or shall we call that a ‘tactical error?’”

“Mm,” Solas nods his approval. “You’ve become quite the strategist. Have you been spending time with our Commander?”

“I’ve been spending time with you,” she counters. “Learning all your little tricks.”

Not all, it occurs to him, but Solas smothers the thought with a laugh. “It seems to me you have a few of your own.” 

“Our Keeper used to call me harellan,” she tells him. “Trickster. Though I needn’t explain that to you.”

He fights to keep the easy expression on his face, feeling suddenly caught in the snare of her gaze, as if she sees directly through him, sees him fully, all he is.

Harellan, his mind echoes. How could she know?

The wait for her judgment feels infinite, inevitable– but it does not come, and does not come, and does not come. She only moves a white pawn toward the board’s center, the leaves rustling softly around them. 

No, he decides. She does not know. She only means he knows the word. 

Solas mirrors her opening move, their pawns face to face on the battlefield. “And still, your Keeper named you her First.” 

“I was more troublesome as a child,” she says, with a grin that implies that the mischief has never left her. “I’ve settled down a great deal since. Can’t you tell?”

This time, when Solas laughs, there is nothing else hiding beneath it. No uneasy feeling, no great fear that she will discover him, cast him out. There is only happiness for a moment, the war reduced to a board between them, as if sorrow and death are nowhere, and the end of the world is far away.

[tswaney17]

I Do Bad Things with You - Epilogue

@elriel-month | Tropes & AUs

The offical end is here! I cannot believe it! 😩 For nearly four years, this has been a part of my life and to say that it is finally finished, wrapped up with a nice little bow is such an overwhelming feeling. Whether you were with me from the very beginning or just recently joined, thank you for encouraging me to continue this story. It will always hold a special place in my heart, along with you. 💕

Also, I had an alternate ending, but couldn't get my gear into writing it. It was the complete opposite of this one, so consider yourselves lucky. 😘

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Catch up here.

Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘

Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault , language, NSFW

Word Count: 4,039

Four years later.

~~~~~

Elain woke with the rising sun, the distant sound of ocean waves crashing along the beach filled her ears. Her husband’s sturdy presence was at her backside, his warmth washing over her and creating a sense of blissful calm.

She loved waking in the cradle of his embrace, his possessive need to hold her as close as possible even in his sleep. They never slept apart while sharing a bed, always managing to drape themselves around the other.

Some may have called their relationship co-dependent, but Elain knew it was because of all they had been through. How the world tried and tried again to rip them apart that the thought of being separated was unbearable. Their touch reassured the other that they were still here, still with them. And she loved that bond they had over it.

Turning in his arms, she began placing soft kisses over his bare chest, trailing her lips up to the sensitive spot on his neck.

His arms tightened around her as he let out a contented humming sound. Gorgeous, golden eyes blinked open, his mouth curling up at the corner. “Good morning, my beautiful wife.”

She huffed a laugh. “Good morning, birthday boy.”

A deep, rumbling sound vibrated from the center of his chest. “Birthday boy, eh?”

Elain pressed her lips on the tattoo of her name on his pec, their children’s names having been added to the swirls of ink surrounding hers. She had something similar running along the left side of her ribcage. Ruhn had done an incredible job with the bouquet of peonies. A large, fully blossomed one with Azriel’s name carefully scripted within the petals, and three partially blossomed ones with Kaden, Ryder, and Rosalie’s names blooming around his.

The work was intricate and beautiful and she absolutely loved it—even if it hurt like a total bitch when she got it last year.

“Yeah, birthday boy. You know the day that comes around once a year to celebrate all things you?” she teased.

A large, scarred hand threaded through her hair, pulling her in for a slow, sensual kiss. Azriel’s tongue slipped between her lips, caressing hers in a way that had heat building low in her belly. “How about birthday breakfast?” he breathed against her mouth.

Without giving her a chance to respond, he hooked a leg over her hip, flipping them until Elain’s back hit the mattress. She let out a yelp, swiftly followed by a blissful sigh as he made his way down her bare body, licking and sucking at her soft skin. “Azriel,” she breathed huskily, her fingers threading through his thick hair.

Her husband peppered kisses down her torso, making sure his lips paused at every pregnancy marker on her body; every stretchmark still visible on her stomach. He always made sure to show her just how beautiful she was.

“Fuck, I love when you say my name like that,” he murmured into the junction of her left thigh. His teeth nipped at the tender flesh, leaving his mark right on the inside. Azriel still loved sprinkling her pale skin with his bruises and had become adept at placing them in places only he would see. Kaden had once inquired about the bruise on her neck not long after the twins were born, in front of their entire family, which then invited knowing smirks and questions about their sex life.

Elain had no desire to respond to those requests and neither did her husband.

Said husband who was currently sucking a matching love bite onto the inside of her other thigh, glanced up at her through his full lashes, a devil’s glint shining in his hazel eyes. His mouth hovered over her drenched slit, ready to devour her, when they heard one of the bedroom doors opening down the hallway.

He froze, gaze clashing with hers.

Soft feet padded to one of the other bedrooms and another door opened, followed swiftly by a third and the hushed voices of their children as the three of them made their way down the stairs.

“Shoo, guys,” Kaden reprimanded. “Mom and Dad will hear you.”

Twin giggles from their four-year-olds chased their elder brother down the hallway.

Elain sighed as Azriel let out a groan.

“Why are they up already?” he asked. The sun had just started to rise, and when she looked at the clock, she saw it was only a half past six in the morning.

She smiled softly at her husband, “They wanted to make you breakfast in bed—”

“I’m trying to eat my breakfast in bed,” he all but growled.

Elain smacked his shoulder, laughing. “You’re so bad.”

Those big, beautiful, strong hands flexed on her hips, squeezing her. “Don’t act like you don’t love it when I do bad things with you.”

She shook her head, still grinning. “I should probably go down there before they destroy our kitchen.”

“Kaden’s down there and responsible.”

A perfectly groomed brow rose. “Kaden against the twins?” She and Azriel adored all of their children. Wouldn’t change a single thing about them. But they were both quite surprised at how rambunctious Rosalie and Ryder were compared to their elder sibling. And mischievous too, always getting into things. They were quite the handful.

Her husband’s eyes widened in realization. “Fuck, yeah. You better get down there.”

At that, she laughed, attempting to detangle herself from his grasp.

But he held on tight, a knowing smirk raising the corner of his mouth. “But I want dessert later. And to ensure I get it…” his tongue delved between her legs, lapping at her wetness and then he sucked her clit between his teeth, guaranteeing that she would be desperate for release later.

A muffled moan passed between her parted lips. “You wicked, wicked man. You expect me to go all day like this?”

“You bet your pretty ass, I do.” Dropping another kiss to her sensitive clit, smacked her butt, before he rolled over, plopping down onto the pillow beside her.

Elain grumbled a few choice words as she climbed out of bed, grabbing suitable clothing to head downstairs. At the door, she pointed a finger at her husband. “You better pretend to be asleep when we come up here.”

He made a crossing motion over his heart. “Promise, baby girl.”

She could only roll her eyes, shutting the bedroom door behind her.

In the handful of minutes her children had on her, they still managed to ensue chaos in her kitchen.

“Momma!” Rosalie cried, running over and crashing into her legs. “Momma, Kaden won’t let me help!”

Elain lifted her onto her hip, eyeballing her son as he measured the ingredients for breakfast. “Kaden, let Rosalie help with the batter.”

“But Mom! She’s just making a mess!” he said exasperated.

She walked further into the kitchen, setting her daughter back on one of the stools at the counter, and ruffled her eldest’s hair. He was a neat freak like his parents. “Then show her how to make it. Help her. Don’t exclude her—Ryder, I know you’re not turning that stove on without me there,” she warned without even looking at her youngest son, already knowing his silence meant he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to be.

All three of their children loved to help in the kitchen, and they enjoyed teaching them things. But both she and Azriel had told them they were not allowed to use the stove without one of them present and standing right there with them. Being the eldest, Kaden had some leeway, but the twins knew better than to turn on the burner.

Elain spun around to face her guilty-looking son.

“Sorry, Momma.”

Forty-five minutes and one meltdown later, they were walking up the stairs with multiple trays toward her bedroom door. She shot Azriel a text to let him know they were on their way, but their kids’ attempt at being quiet would’ve alerted him before they even made it to the top of the stairs.

Ryder threw open the door just as all three kids shouted, “Happy birthday, Daddy!”

Azriel’s, bless that man, surprised “I was sleeping” face was so unbelievable, but they still ate it up, the twins running to climb on their bed as she and Kaden carried the three trays with their breakfast on them.

He let out a grunt, catching their daughter as she flung herself into his arms.

“Were you surprised, Daddy?” she asked, flashing those big brown eyes at him.

“So surprised,” he said, kissing her all over her face until she was squealing in delight. “Did you guys make me breakfast in bed?” Az questioned, winking at her.

Ryder was crawling into his lap, squeezing next to his sister. “We did, Daddy. I helped!”

He kissed the top of his son’s head. “Well, I can’t wait to eat it.” Those amber eyes turned on her. “I’m famished.”

Elain turned red from head to toe, but damn, did that comment send warmth running low in her belly. Fucker, she wanted to say, but just gave him a look that said to knock it off.

His lips turning up at the corner told her he absolutely would not.

They spent the next hour in their bed, eating and spending time together as a family, making an absolute mess, but Elain wouldn’t have traded that time for anything in the world.

Azriel’s only birthday request was to spend a week at their home in the Summer District. He wanted just quality time with his family, and Elain couldn’t agree more. Even though there was an agreement between him and his biological brothers, with three children, Azriel was still overly cautious in their protection—and hers, to be honest. The Moonbeam brothers often traveled with them, acting as protection detail in addition to being their kids’ uncles.

Elain was sitting in a low, sand chair under an umbrella on the beach, Connall a sturdy presence on her right. Her husband and two boys had wandered into the ocean, while Fenrys was helping Rosalie build a sandcastle.

She watched as her daughter clung to Fen’s leg near the shore before he swooped her into his arms and carried her into the shallow water.

Rosalie’s aversion to water was not born, but an accident that created a lasting traumatic response. She wouldn’t get into anything larger than a bathtub without an adult; not even her twin being able to coax her into facing her fear of water no matter how hard Ryder tried to. 

Elain could still remember that day… There was something different when it came to fear for your children. She had been kidnapped, held hostage, attacked… But the fear she felt when Rosalie fell into the deep end of their pool was unlike anything Elain had ever experienced before. It was a raw, crippling kind of terror.

They were hosting an early spring barbeque with their siblings; all the kids engaged in a rousing game of tag on the lawn. Kaden led the pack, holding his littlest cousin’s hand. At only a year old, Nyx wasn’t able to keep up with the rest of them, but their eldest kept him by his side to ensure he got to play. And little Nyx’s squeals of delight told her he was having an absolute blast, even if he didn’t understand what was going on.

The first time one of the kids stepped onto the concrete surrounding the pool, she called out to them. “Stay off the concrete or you’re going to come sit down.”

Typically, the kids listened well when one of the adults told them to do something, and she could see them trying to avoid the non-grassy area. But in an attempt to avoid being tagged by Sutton, the twins split and then collided, sending Rosalie crashing into the chilled water.

Elain screamed her name, but Azriel reacted faster, running and launching himself into the pool, scooping their daughter as she slowly sank to the bottom. Cash beat her to the edge as Azriel and Rosalie emerged, waiting to help pull his niece out before handing her off to her mother.

She immediately started patting her back, getting Rosalie into a position on the ground to better cough out the water she inhaled. Her small body shook from the force, expelling every drop of liquid.

Azriel heaved himself from the pool and was at her side a second later, scarred hands fluttering around his daughter.

When her coughs turned to cries, Elain knew she’d be all right, the shock of what happened kicking in and causing the waterworks from her two-year-old. “Shhh, you’re okay, sweetheart,” she cooed, cradling her small body to her chest and rubbing her back.

“Should we take her in?” Az worried, those hazel eyes bright with fear as he inspected his baby girl for any injuries.

She shook her head. “I’ll grab my medical bag and check her out, but she should be fine.”

And she was, physically. Totally and completely fine. But when summer rolled around, they realized what, exactly, that experience had done to her. She and Azriel had worked hard to break the fear, but even two years later, it still stuck with her.

A little body crashing into her brought Elain back to the present. “Momma! Did you see the sandcastle Uncle Fen and I built?”

She kissed her plump cheek. “I did, sweetheart! You two built an amazing castle.”

“Mom?”

Elain turned her head to look up at Kaden, not having heard him approach. He was getting stealthy like his father. The furrow in his brow had her instantly on alert. “What is it, sweetie?”

He looked over his shoulder toward his dad and brother…and a woman. “Do you know her?”

She slid her sunglasses down her nose, eying the blonde who—just put a hand on her husband’s bicep. Azriel held Ryder tight on his hip, stepping back out of her reach. It was obvious from her son’s tone to the way he was watching the interaction that he was uncomfortable.

Elain lifted Rosalie off her lap and placed her on the blanket beside her chair. “Guys,” she said, addressing the Moonbeam brothers. “Watch the kids, please.” Without a backward glance, she made her way down the beach, plastering a fake smile on her face as she approached her husband.

“So, are you interested?” the woman asked just as Elain reached his side.

“Hello, husband,” she purred, sliding her left hand across his bare chest possessively, her diamond wedding ring sparkling in the sunshine. “Who’s your friend?”

The woman looked unamused, arms crossing and emphasizing her scantily-clad breasts. She was pretty, Elain wouldn’t lie. Perfect curves and a toned stomach. Not marred with stretch marks and the like from pregnancy that her body now bore.

But the thing is, Elain knew she had nothing to worry about when it came to her. Because Azriel loved every single thing about her body and more. He loved every line she bore from carrying their children. He kissed the scar on her thigh, the marks around her navel, the faint lines on her breasts. There was nothing he did not love about her.

So, she wore her earned markers proudly. Elain never hid who she was and what she had been through. And like hell would this woman, who was very obviously hitting on her husband, while he held one of their children, going to make her feel insecure about herself.

“Momma!” Ryder called out, reaching for her.

She happily took her son from Azriel, kissing his cheek. “Hello, sweet boy. Did you and Daddy have fun in the ocean?”

“I did, Momma! Water went up my nose!”

Elain laughed, kissing his button nose and taking Azriel by the hand. He brought their laced fingers to brush his lips across her knuckles, his gratitude shining in those hazel-colored eyes. She barely glanced back at the woman whom she could feel was glaring at her, muttering, “It was nice to meet you,” before tugging her man back toward the beach where their family had set up camp.

“Thank you,” he told her once they were out of earshot. “She wouldn’t take a hint and I didn’t want to be rude in front of the kids.”

She set Ryder back on his feet, telling him to head up to his siblings and wait for them. Once Elain was sure he was safe, she faced her husband. “I understand why you refrained from being rude in their presence, but I think this is an opportunity to teach our children about unwelcomed advances and how to handle them.”

So that they didn’t go through what she had.

Realization dawned on his face. Azriel swore, running a hand through his hair, his bicep flexing from the movement. “Fuck, you’re right. I should’ve made a point to address that in front of them.”

Elain reached out, placing her palm over his heart. “We can still use this experience to talk to them. I could tell Kaden was uncomfortable with her presence. The twins may be a little young, but I still think we should talk with them about what happened.” She wrapped her arms around his trim waist. “This is a learning opportunity for them.”

He smiled down at her, tucking her close and kissing her softly. “I love you,” he breathed onto her lips. Swooping down, Azriel threw her over his shoulder, making her squeal as he smacked her butt. “Come wife, I need to make sure my dessert is ready for me later.”

Gripping his hips, she laughed, shouting, “Put me down, prick!”

Az swung her back onto her feet, wrapping her against his chest and cupping the curve of her ass in his large hands. They were never afraid to show their affection for each other in front of their children, wanting them to grow up knowing they had parents who loved each other dearly. “Thank you for making this the best birthday.”

She grinned, mouth curling up at the corner. “Your birthday isn’t over yet, baby.” Not by a long shot.

His brow raised at the comment, but before he could ask, Kaden shouted, “Dad!”

Azriel didn’t take his eyes off her as he hollered back, “What?”

“Come quick! There’s a crab!”

“Don’t touch it!”

Because the last thing they needed was a crab pinching one of their fingers. “You better get over there. I don’t want to have to take one of them to the emergency room for stitches.”

“Why take them to the emergency room when their mother can patch them up even better?” He smirked, shooting her a wink before jogging back to their curious children.

Elain took a moment to just watch her husband and kids from afar, smiling at how beautiful they were. And she considered herself the damn luckiest person in the whole world.

~~~~~

Azriel had just finished putting the kids to bed, all three of them thoroughly exhausted after playing all day in the sun, and made his way to the kitchen where Elain stood, finishing up cleaning the dishes from the dessert she had made him. His arms slid around her waist, palms cradling her torso as he nudged her hair out of the way with his nose to kiss her neck.

She let out a contented breath, body melting into his embrace. “Did the kids go down okay?”

“The twins were out within minutes of my reading, and Kaden’s eyes were drooping on his book when I went to his bedroom. He didn’t last much longer.” He tightened his hold on her as she shut the dishwasher. “Thank you for all of this.”

Elain twisted, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Happy birthday, my love.” Her smile lit up her face, reminding him of just how damn lucky he was.

“Are we all good down here?” he asked her, hoping that they were.

Her head cocked to the side. “Yes, I’m finished cleaning up, w—what are you doing?” she squealed quietly as he lifted her into his arms, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist.

He flicked off the kitchen lights, carrying her up the stairs. “I want my birthday dessert.”

Elain shot him a dry look. “Azriel, I just gave you dessert.”

“Yes, and it was delicious. But now I want the dessert I was promised this morning.”

A finger trailed up the side of his throat, toying with the edge of his thick hair. “Oh? And what dessert is that, dear husband?”

He kicked their bedroom door shut behind them, locking it. “You, my darling wife.”

She let out a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a moan, his words always her undoing.

Az took a seat on the edge of their bed with every intention to undress her and place her sweet cunt right over his face, but Elain seemed to have other thoughts, pulling back to look at him.

“I have a birthday present for you, still.”

“I’m trying to get to my birthday present right now,” he muttered, sliding a hand beneath her dress to stroke her, his mouth moving to attach to her delicate collarbones.

Elain hummed in pleasure, eyes fluttering closed. “Not that present,” she murmured, huskily. Azriel knew exactly what his wife liked and where she liked it. Just a few more swipes of his tongue and she’d forget all about her other present and let him take her the way he wanted to.

But she was also very persistent, placing a palm on his chest to push him back. Her breath was already unsteady, dark eyes smoldering with heat. “Other present first. Then you can unwrap me.” She dropped a kiss on his nose, ignoring his groan of protest as she clambered off his lap and over to her dresser.

He leaned back on his hands, watching as she rooted around in one of the drawers until she procured a small box, wrapped in black paper with a cobalt ribbon.

Elain settled herself back onto his lap, a small smile tugging up the corner of her lips. “Happy birthday.”

Az frowned. “I thought I said no gifts.” Truly, the only gift he wanted was to spend time with his family. No interruptions. And that’s exactly what he got, so this additional present was a surprise.

“Yes, but you also got me that stunning tennis bracelet after I said the same, so I think this is fair. Besides, it’s not exactly a gift-gift per se.”

Well, that had his brows furrowing together. Carefully, he pulled the ribbon off, tearing at the wrapping without care. His eyes glanced up and saw his wife’s fingers steepled, pressing to her lips in anticipation.

Whatever was in the box was obviously very precious to her.

Casting his eyes down, Azriel opened the lid and revealed…

His gaze snapped to hers. “Are you serious?”

She dipped her head in confirmation, an infectious smile pulling at her mouth. Elain looked absolutely giddy.

Az’s throat tightened as he choked on his emotions. “El, we’re pregnant?”

Tears rolled down her cheeks, chin dipping in confirmation.

They had talked about having another baby, Elain having her IUD removed just a few months before. But he honestly didn’t expect them to get pregnant so quickly again. He pulled out the sonogram and let his fingers brush over the little blip that would grow into their fourth child.

And then his eyes traveled to the onesie. Azriel laughed loudly, lifting the small clothing from the box, the words, here we go again, scripted across the chest.

“I thought it was fitting,” Elain said softly, eyes bright with unshed tears.

He cupped her cheek, bringing her in for a slow, sweet kiss. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

His thump wiped under her lashes, catching the droplets as she murmured, “Happy birthday, Azriel.”

Words weren’t enough to thank her for this gift, this wonderfully, amazing, beautiful life he’d built with her. So, Azriel showed his wife just how much he loved her, over and over again. The perfect end to one chapter and the start of their next in life.

~~~~~

The End.

~~~~~

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[the-kittylorian-writes]

"Only One Creed"

Rating: General Audiences

Type: One-shot

Word Count: 1k+

Summary:

Ragnar has just sworn the Creed, and yet the boy still has so many questions. On the night Din and Grogu have flown off-world, Ragnar seeks Paz for answers.

or: Paz struggles to make every shot at fatherhood count

Another “missing scene” from s03ep01. Potential spoilers.

Read first part but can be stand-alone on AO3 or Tumblr.

Read on AO3 or here:

"Only One Creed"

Ragnar found the Mandalorian clad from head to toe in blue and gold-yellow armor hunched over his blaster canon. 

Paz Vizsla. That was the Mandalorian’s name. He had a position—their heavy infantry gunner. Many times, Ragnar had noted the many blaster bolt dents over Paz’s armor. He was their most powerful, most reliable source of firepower. The other kids told him so. In battle, they’d said, the enemy would try to take Paz down first. Without their ruthless heavy gunner, they had no cover. They’d be defenseless.

But Paz also had another title… but somehow it’s slipped Ragnar’s own world of thinking. The other kids told him that Paz was something like a prince, but those days had long gone. In that vein, Ragnar stopped pursuing that lone trail of breadcrumbs.

This Mandalorian had taken him in. Now Ragnar had come of age and he’d just sworn the Creed that very morning. His coming-of-age ceremony may have been a little too eventful, and he’d hoped it wasn’t an omen portending bleaker times… but no. In this moment, Ragnar had only one thing in his mind as he beheld this towering warrior, almost larger than life: he had a father. 

“Dad,” called Ragnar. He respectfully stood a small distance away from the blue-clad warrior.

Paz’s visor gleamed in the warm light of the cave as it turned to him. 

Ragnar could see the pieces of Paz’s blaster canon cast on a low table in painstakingly neat order. His father had been cleaning his weapons again. Paz would do that ever so faithfully, like clockwork. Sometimes Ragnar would wake up with Paz maintaining his amor; at night, it was cleaning every weapon strapped on his person. They were like prayers every morning and every night.

Weapons are part of our religion, Paz taught him. Ragnar’s heart was full of wonder.

Paz made no sound; only a motion of his helm for the boy to approach him. 

Ragnar’s heart bloomed. This gesture had become so familiar to him. Paz would sometimes speak to him with expressive body language and Ragnar would catch Paz’s meaning right away.

Ragnar eagerly stepped closer.

Paz, however, continued with his reverent work. It would be Ragnar’s initiative to begin conversation. 

“Who were they?” Ragnar abruptly asked. “The—Mandalorian in silver. And that green baby…”

“The baby is his son,” Paz replied to him quickly, his voice a low, gentle growl through the vocoder. “As for the other… we do not speak of him.”

Ragnar clenched a fist and bit his lip underneath his newly forged helm. He was still getting used to the novelty of it all. His first day as a sworn member of the Tribe… he should be content. But the questions just kept racing over and over in the boy’s head. Over and over until he had to fall silent and sit still just to wrangle all these jumbled, noisy thoughts.

“Dad,” Ragnar ventured, too boldly. “I would like to speak of him, with your permission.” As an afterthought, the boy immediately concluded with a, “Please.”

Paz halted his work. The hulking Mandalorian seemed pensive for a moment. Ragnar could see his father’s chest rising and falling with a bit of effort. Paz’s breaths through the modulator were measured; they sounded a little pained.

“Very well.”

Paz’s full attention was on Ragnar. The child couldn’t believe his luck. His father gestured to sit beside him on a low bench before his work table. 

What happened next was surreal. It was a rapid fire back-and-forth, everything succinct and boxed in.

Ragnar began. 

“Who is the silver Mandalorian?”

“He used to be our Covert’s Provider,” said Paz, voice gruff and contained.

“Why do you outcast him?”

“He’d broken the Creed.”

A small distressed gasp fell from Ragnar’s lips. His limbs suddenly felt cold. 

So there were those who had indeed broken the Creed. Ragnar had witnessed how his father treated the silver-clad Mandalorian coldly, at an arm’s length, so noncommittally. The other Tribe members avoided him as well, never meeting his gaze or treading too close to where his footsteps marked the sand.

“Will you outcast him forever?” Ragnar heard the cold fear in his own voice.

“Yes, if he doesn’t atone,” replied Paz. “He would need to atone, and we will welcome him and his son back to our Covert.”

Ragnar couldn’t bear it. He wasn’t deaf or stupid. 

(Perhaps he was reckless. Paz had given him a stern earful about freezing on his feet on harm’s way when the warrior had trained him to stay alert and work on his reflexes. The boy’s cheek still smarted from where Paz’s elbow guard had knocked him clear off the range of the monster’s jaws.)

His father seemed hurting, deep inside. Ragnar knew. He just knew. 

The child would dearly like to believe that Paz had his own special way of communicating with him. A parent and child usually formed a hidden language only known to both. No one else could ever decipher it. When Ragnar closed his eyes and he listened to Paz’s voice during the times his father would lecture him, teach him of the Way of the Mandalore, he noted the inflections, the curls, the dips and strains and peaks. Paz’s voice was full and rich and regal. Maybe the kids were right: he was a prince, after all.

This time, however, Paz’s voice sounded fractured, wounded.

Ragnar hadn’t seen his father’s face yet. He would, someday, when Ragnar had further completed training. He would earn the right to see Paz Vizsla’s face. This sacred uncovering was permissible between and restricted to close clan members.

Now, it was just his voice. Yet Ragnar had to press on despite the hurt. The questions would just keep cornering him until bottling up would certainly backfire on him. 

“Dad,” Ragnar went on. “Do you still care for the silver Mandalorian? Does he have a name?”

Paz was silent; even as the cave echoed with ambient noises, Paz’s reticence added an oppressing weight to it all. Time stretched and wore thin.

Ragnar was pushing his luck. The child bowed his helmeted head. 

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Ragnar choked the words out. “I—thank you for accommodating me. I’ll go now. I’ll help the others with the evening meal.”

The boy was about to get up from where he sat, from the place beside Paz under the comforting canopy of his father’s shadow.

“Ragnar,” Paz suddenly called.

The boy stopped in mid-motion. Facing the hulking warrior, Ragnar patiently waited for Paz to speak again.

Ragnar didn’t see his father’s huge, gloved hands move at first. It was so faint—gentle and reassuring and firm, as Paz reached out to grasp Ragnar’s much tinier gloved hand.

Paz gave it a squeeze.

“It’s not my place to tell you his name,” relayed the large Mandalorian at last. Ragnar then caught it—the dip of his father’s voice that meant that he was contrite, and even respectful. “But… do I still care for him?”

Paz’s beefy hand gave Ragnar’s little one another squeeze. This time, the pressure on Ragnar’s hand lingered. It was gentle yet held the weight of a million words, perhaps even a lifetime’s worth.

A childhood’s worth.

When Paz spoke no further, Ragnar thought that his curiosity just needed to stop. At least, for now. 

Ragnar had taken his free hand—his young boy’s hand whose grip that would still infinitely improve, a grip which would hold many years’ worth of weaponry as he grew older—to cup Paz’s massive hand which had been over his other one.

Paz’s visor moved to look into Ragnar’s own. 

“It’s okay, Dad,” Ragnar whispered at length, the modulator scarcely registering his voice. “I’m done with my questions. I’m grateful for your time.”

For Ragnar, they sounded a little perfunctory. His politeness and his detached manner of interaction which oftentimes felt ritualistic had grown into him. He saw how others spoke and moved. He’d need to do the same.

However, in this instant, the boy meant it. He fully meant it.

Paz let out a long sigh that carried the worries of long, arduous years. 

“If you want,” interjected Paz, lending the air around them with the earnest warmth of his deep voice, “we can start reviewing your Mando’a tonight, ad’ika. Would you like that?”

Ragnar’s head shot up. Paz’s offer had caught him off-guard. Usually, his father would indeed send him off to help others of the Covert until it was time for bed, while Paz finished the work on oiling up his munitions. 

“Yes, Dad,” said Ragnar, almost greedily. He was too elated over every minute he managed to spend with this Mandalorian who could be a prince, but now was simply his father. “I’d like that very much.”

Ragnar didn’t care if Paz’s voice wavered from time to time. He didn’t care for the lapses in discussion as his father paused in thought. There would still be the pained air around him. Ragnar thought of the Creed, and how breaking it would completely shatter his father’s heart. 

Right now, Ragnar cared only for one Creed. It was in his father’s voice and unspoken words and the small gestures only Ragnar can understand. Ragnar had seen it on the silver-clad Mandalorian too, as he spoke with his small green son.

There was only one Creed for a child, when his father’s love was the entire universe to him.

*****

A/N: Tmw Paz starts to feel a little bit (just a little bit) guilty about treating Din the way he did. I have my 5ever headcanon that Paz and Din may have grown up together in the Fighting Corps. While Ragnar being Paz's foundling (or even bio son, who knows?) is all still speculation at this point (check date ^^), I'm one of those wondering if Paz caring for a foundling would change his perspective about Din's own dedication to Grogu. B'aaawwww. (or... as Vizslas go, this might not go too well but I'll just be expecting the best. *tears*)

BTW I'm getting invested in this possible father-son connection lol I'm already two fics down. Halp

Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed. <3

[vsnotresponding]

CHAPTER 9 - THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM - IRA

masterpost

It’s raining again.

The rain drops hit the earth above my head, far away, the interlude between storm and storm brief. My body, tired after the last few days of work, is ready again for an afternoon of exploding imitations—and of localizing them, a new game the aldamu came up with.

His name is Garvan, I correct myself. Garvan, who watches me work with an attention that unnerves me in spite of having grown used to it. His eyebrows going up when I look at him after I’m done, as if he were surprised of what he sees.

I don’t ask him about it.

And his sister, Emhi, who also watches me, but with hostility, without rising her hand from the pommel of her sword just in case. Even if she’s the one that makes the others calm down when they get too excited or when their questions overcome me.

And then Áine and the mirzaan, both curious, both exhausted behind it all. Taking notes, talking about concepts no one else understands. It’s entertaining, even amusing, seeing them discussing the problems we encounter. The mirzaan’s hesitation to impose his voice; the ease Áine has to allow him to do so.

I keep going back to our conversation, when he tried to apologize, and when he promised. Maybe that's what he was trying to do that first time. He gave me something, and I gave him something in return. Do I trust in them? I don't really know, but I realize I’ve started to think about them as more of people I have to put up with due to the circumstances we find ourselves in. My situation isn’t perfect, it’s nowhere close really, but each day it gets easier.

And our progress, that makes my blood hum and hope to bloom in my chest every time the mirzaan and Áine smile satisfied at the day’s results.

I allow myself to think of Níniam and Hamza, to accept that, if what the mirzaan told me was true, the latter is on the streets fighting for them to leave us alone. I convince myself, most of all, that the first one’s okay, that in spite of it all, he’ll hold on until we find a solution, until I brave facing the Iria again, and his connection.

It's terrifying, thinking of the pain, the cracks that opened over the island and me. The hearts that suddenly stopped beating, their silence in between a sea of deafening voices—an inexplicable void that, I realize, I still carry on my shoulders. They are now faraway whispers, but they’re still here, reminding me, like the nightmares I don’t remember when I wake up, like the darkness that watches me at night from inside the cell.

I shake my head. The lamp’s flame is almost out, which means they’ll be here soon. I try to clear my mind, to save these emotions for later, so they can give me strength.

When Garvan arrives accompanied by Vesa, I’m surprised to find that I’m content about spending another afternoon with whom I start to think of as friends.

The mirzaan is not in the room when we enter, the air uncomfortable as Áine and Emhi tensely watch us. In the prince’s usual place, though, it’s his brother, seated besides a young woman I’ve never seen before. The prince’s clothes are back to his customary white and gold instead of the black he wore in the throne room. She doesn’t look énna, or khithi, and smiles at me, vibrant. I ignore her and focus on the mirza.

“What’s this one doing here.” I wasn’t planning on saying it aloud, but oh well.

He moves his head slightly back in surprise, the woman at his side looking at me with an open mouth. Garvan elbows me.

“Ira,” a whisper.

“What?” I look at him, disbelievingly. That was a pretty decent reaction to the situation, if I say so myself.

“Ira.” Emhi interrupts us, her voice formal. The mirza leans his head to the side, curious, the surprise erased from his face. “I present Sahare of Derya, Raichta mirza’s fiancée. She insisted on… attending today’s session,” she first says in ilan to me, then, I assume, in gair to the pair.

I look at the young woman, tanned skin from the sun, light brown hair. What impresses me the most is her smile, uncomfortable at the hostility I look at her with, but kind nonetheless. I move my head in her direction as a greeting, and she moves her hand in return. She talks.

“What happened to your ear?” a pretty decent attempt at ilan, direct. She points to my left ear, the wound visible thanks to my tied up hair. I look at the mirza in return, squinting my eyes at him, daring him to tell his fiancée what he did.

He obviously doesn’t.

“It happened when she came here,” he answers instead, also in ilan, his accent like his brother’s. I don’t recall the shahin talking like this. “You’ve already been informed of the… unique circumstances we find ourselves in.” And she nods, satisfied. I smile at both of them.

And move my arms towards Garvan so he can unchain me, my eyes never leaving the mirza’s.

His get bigger, even if slightly, and he moves towards the window that, closed because of the rain, allows him to lean on it.

Fortunately for him, Áine moves from where she was preparing the imitations and explains what we are doing here in an attempt to distract them, I guess, so I can calm down.

“You could have told me he was here,” I whisper to Garvan as he finishes unchaining me, my voice coming out louder than I intended. Áine is besides the glass things, which they’ve told me are called test tubes, as she keeps talking in gair.

“I’m as surprised as you are.” He has to lower his head to my height to whisper back, and looks around the room for his sister. When she notices us, she shrugs.

“And the mirzaan?”

“I don’t know,” he worriedly murmurs. “Haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

“Do you think he has something to do with it?” I point to the heir with my head, but Áine interrupts us before he can answer.

“Ira, if you are ready…” she points to the pillow I usually sit at on the other side of the room, the floor cleared, the chalk marks remade. “They’d like to see.”

Without saying anything I move to my position, preparing myself and, very deliberately, moving a stray lock of hair behind my left ear, my eyes on the mirza. His right hand twitches, his head rising slightly to hide the creation on his ear.

I smile and, immediately, close my eyes to focus.

Sahare talks in muted voices to Áine and the prince, I assume asking more questions. But she talks in gair and their voices are soft enough to not distract me, at least not much.

Until she starts talking to me.

“So you can do what the imitators do on your own?” Her accent is strange, slipping around the vocals, but I can understand her. I admire her effort, but this is not the time.

“Yeah,” I say between clenched teeth, trying not to break my focus. Garvan softly laughs besides me, and I tense my arm to avoid moving and hitting him on the leg. It’s good that someone derives some amusement from my exasperation.

The young woman pauses before asking again: “Is that what you are doing now?”

“No.”

Some minutes of silence, the aldamu fidgeting at my side. With my eyes closed, I can feel his chest shaking trying to stop a laugh. She talks again.

“What are we waiting for?” That does it for Garvan, who breaks and snorts, laughing quietly, uselessly trying to stop himself. I try to calm myself, taking a deep breath, containing my desire to slap him so he stops laughing at me.

“We are waiting,” I open my eyes and looks at her, “for me to be able to concentrate.”

“Oh, sorry. I apologize.” I grunt at her, now in a bad mood, and go back to focusing.

Thankfully, she seems to have learned the lesson, because she stays quiet, and after a few minutes, I destroy the imitation.

Relaxing on the pillows, my arms at my back to support myself as I lean back, I dry my temples with a towel. I look at Garvan, giving me the thumbs up, pointing with his head the clocks besides him. New record then. Now that I can see his face I notice the grimace he wears under the leftovers of his laughing attack still on his eyes.

On the other side of the room, Sahare talks to Áine, gesturing wildly with her arms, while the mirza’s eyes are on me, serious and cautious. I once again fix my hair, and his hand winces.

He interrupts his fiancée’s conversation and motions to the door, leaving without adding anything else. Sahare stands up, outstretches a hand to Áine.

“It’s been an honor,” she says to me. I look at her with skepticism. “And I’m sorry for being disrespectful when you tried to focus.” She bows to me before I can answer, and disappears after the prince.

Once the door closes behind her, Garvan laughs again, this time without containing himself, roaring with laughter. It’s high and uncomfortable and helps dissipate the tension in the air.

“Did you see his face? It’s the first time I see him so out of himself.”

“Out of himself? Garvan, I've known him since we were kids,” Áine has joined us on the floor, she gives me a slap on the back. “That thing he was doing with his hand?” we nod. Apparently, we all noticed. “It’s because he was scared.”

“I knew not talking was a good strategy,” I tell them. Garvan ends up on the floor holding his stomach, his laughter more authentic now. The others roll their eyes at him, but smile too. It was all pretty ridiculous. I do too, even if it doesn’t last long, the right corner of my lips lifting. “And the mirzaan?”

Garvan stops laughing, drying a tear that escaped his eyes, sitting down again. We look at Áine for answers, but she shrugs and moves to cuddle Emhi.

“I haven’t seen him since yesterday. I don’t know… maybe he's catching up on some sleep, it’s been days since he last did.”

“I hope he comes back soon, from the royal family he’s by far the only one I’m up to tolerate.” I cross my arms, trying to joke, even if I am worried about him, even more taking into account his brother’s presence here. He will surely come back with his fiancée eventually. She looked excited about this.

“Ira, you don’t need to lie, we know you are starting to develop a soft spot for us.” I push Garvan away, who, without resisting, ends up laying on the floor again. He doesn’t bother righting himself.

“Either way… What with the fiancée?” They look at me at the change of topic. “It’s not the best moment to negotiate a marriage between nations, is it? I mean, the island is dying and there’s civil unrest.” They tense up at that. I snort, annoyed. It’s like they keep waiting for me to jump every time the subject is mentioned, even if it’s been a week since we started working together.

“Her nation showed special interest in how imitations work,” Emhi answers me.

“But they are useless outside the island,” she shrugs.

“Their tech is better than ours, maybe they want to use the idea?” Garvan adds, still on the floor, throwing and catching an imitation.

“Does that mean that I’ll also have to answer her questions on top of yours?” I huff as I join him on the floor.

“Don’t be dramatic.” A pillow hits Garvan on the face as my answer. I smile.

Without the mirzaan here, it looks like we’re taking a free afternoon. Áine insists on repeating the test a few more times, but I don’t think we’ll get new results after days doing the same with the exact same results.

I listen to them talk about imitator drama, how the rookies can barely hold a sword, how, like them, they struggled to memorize properties and other science stuff I don’t really care about. It entertains me, though, and it helps me humanize them. Garvan’s laugh and how Áine and Emhi hold hands, how the siblings argue and how Áine shakes her head at them like they are small kids.

They are young like me, even if our lives have been significantly different, contradictory experiences of the same events. I’m glad to have met them, in spite of it all.

The mirza and Sahare are there the next day. And the next one after that. For almost a week.

The first one watches in silence for a few hours before leaving, but the young woman stays, unstoppable with her questions. I try to be civil each time she opens her mouth, I can understand that our island is unique in how she works, that she’s curious about it all. On one side, it feeds my ego.

On the other, it annoys me.

She repeats the same questions I already answered to the mirzaan and Áine, and even though I’ve gotten better at explaining, her lack of general knowledge makes my and Áine's job difficult.

It’s frustrating, like trying to explain to someone how to walk. You just do, you don’t think about it, but you control it. Even if it’s more complex, creating is like that. Natural.

She doesn’t seem to understand.

“But what if the imitation you are trying to communicate with is moving?” I sigh, tired of this. We are sitting on the floor, all but the mirza, watching us from the window. Well, he watches his fiancée and I.

“I don’t know, I never tried,” I rub my face. Outside, the rain keeps falling, gentler now. The humidity is unsupportable inside the palace, made of stone and marble. “Generally, as you can see, imitations light or feed something, like lamps or kindling for fire. And the rare occasions when someone is wearing them,” I look at Garvan. I ended up telling him what I almost did with the imitations in his pocket. He glares at me, but I know he’s not really mad at me anymore, “usually I wait for them to stop moving to connect.”

“Shouldn’t you then train with imitations in motion, then?”

“Last time I checked, the Iria's tones heavy. And oh yeah, he’s stuck to the island because he is the island. I don’t think we need to worry about him moving anytime soon.”

“Still.” I look at Áine in search of help, so she can stir the conversation in another direction. She massively disappoints me.

“Actually, it’s not a bad idea.” A look at Emhi, and the imitator stands up to fetch an imitation. I grunt at them as Garvan claps my back.

“Come on, Ira, do it for the future queen.” Sahare fidgets at that, but she forgets about it once she sees me preparing. Attacking immobile imitations had turned into a boring way to spend our time anyways. She claps, excited, the same hunger in her eyes as in Áine and the mirzaan’s when I connect.

For the next fifteen minutes, Emhi and Garvan move around the room, throwing an imitation at each other like a ball, feinting and kicking it across the floor.

The fuckers find it funny, too. I don’t. I’d rather go back to exploding them when they were still. Focusing is difficult, even if they are being quiet. Both wear imitations around their necks and chest, on their pockets or hanging from their tunics. When I close my eyes they turn into a blur of orange dancing in the darkness, the only trail of the imitation I’m supposed to destroy the occasional ray that travels from one to the other.

I grunt again, frustrated. Imitations are too exact, too alike to each other. Once together, I can’t tell them apart. If we add the movement and that I can’t use anything to sharpen my senses, it’s an impossible task.

Like the game Hamza used to play. One of the Zanji vendors used it to trick foreigners: three cups and a mud ball that he hid in one of them. We all knew he cheated, of course, except his victims, and even if it was fun at the beginning, I got tired of it quickly enough.

Not Hamza, who found a way to use his abilities as a creator to, somehow, find a way to follow it through the vendor’s tricks.

He would be so much better at this than I am.

“I can't do it,” I tell them after ten more minutes. My brow is sweaty, and I’m having trouble breathing—I feel the illness returning, even if I’ve been much better since the Iria.

When I look at the siblings, they keep playing, the rest watching me. I focus on the mirza, who moves his gaze away to his fiancée. I don’t like him watching me all the time. For what they’ve told me, he doesn’t know much about the imitators, not to say creators, so his constant attention is suspicious.

“Come on, Ira,” Garvan throws the imitation to his sister again. “Have you tried opening your eyes for a chance?”

“Shut up.”

Fortunately, he does.

I let myself fall on the pillows, my breathing returning to normal, and uncomfortable sound coming from my lungs. If they address me, I ignore them. I close my eyes, a hand on my stomach.

The door ends up closing when the mirza and Sahare leave. The pillows beside me dip as someone sits on them.

“Everything’s all right?” I answer with a grunt. Áine laughs. “What’s so challenging about it? You’ve improved this past few days, in time and precision, I don’t see how it’s that different.”

They’ve tried to communicate with me more lately, making me talk about what I feel or why I sometimes get angry or irritated. I know I don’t answer much. It’s difficult for me, to talk about these things, but they take every scrap I offer.

“They have too many imitations on them. It confuses me.”

“But you are good at Garvan’s game, the finding hidden imitations.” I stand up and turn to look at her. At least this I can explain.

“Yeah, but this is different. Those are still, separated. When they get together…”

“Their structure gives you trouble?” her eyes are kind.

“I guess,” I shrug, “but it doesn’t matter. It’s not relevant for what you want me to do in the end.”

“Still… it might help us understand how all of this works.”

“Yeah,” I lay down, relaxed now. “Maybe.”

And so the days repeat. We try the stupid game again, without success, but we fortunately focus on the same tests as always. Search and destroy, again and again.

They never ask me to create for them, and I silently thank them for it. The thought that it would be difficult for me to deny them if the mirza wasn’t here crosses my mind, and it surprises me. It does because I’ve grown used to the situation, I feel useful, I feel like we are progressing. And I do like them, I like talking to them, arguing with Garvan about whatever, the silent understatement Emhi seems to have with me, and the patience with which Áine treats me—her calming voice, relaxing my body and mind. It makes me think of our ancestors and how they used to work together.

Not everything’s perfect, though. I don’t see the mirzaan, even if Garvan tells me he’s alright, that the shahin has assigned him a special project that prevents him from coming. And it might be just that, but his brother’s watchful eyes and his sudden disappearance disquiet me. As if something were coming, the calm before the storm. I’m not capable of shaking a bad feeling, his eyes always on me, watching, listening, focused, taking the position that belongs to his brother.

Sometimes, in my dreams, his gaze turns green, like the shahin’s, like the one I saw at the Iria.

When I wake up, I can almost swear I hear screaming.

tag list (ask to be added or removed): @my-cursed-prince @on-noon @aquil-writes @dotr-rose-love

[squidyyy23]

happy friday! nope. it's saturday now. happy saturday! hi. here. have a thing. blame @gallawitchxx and @heymrspatel for sparking things. it's been a week around here, yall.

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

The lights are still on, but beside him, Mickey’s chest rises and falls in the steady, familiar beat of sleep. Ian knows he’ll be comatose for at least the next hour, always is when Ian works him over like that. But Ian’s wide awake, his blood still pumping too hard, energized exhaustion like after a long run. So he props himself up on his elbow and lets his gaze linger on his husband’s spent, naked body.

His eyes land on his misspelled name. They always do. Etched into Mickey’s skin in a desperate plea for Ian’s attention. Powerless back then but irresistible now. 

Bruises bloom around the scared letters, small patches of skin darkening till they almost match the ink. Ian traces the circles with the tip of his fingers. Light, gentle, not enough to wake him.

He draws a path from mark to mark across Mickey’s chest. Some already fading to pink and will be gone by tomorrow. Others deepening purple and threatening to stick around all week. Ian’s favorite reminders.

Next, up to his collarbone, tracing the red crescent of imprinted teeth that's bumpy beneath Ian’s thumb, licking his lips at the memory of the taste of Mickey’s sweat. He slides his palm over the warm, raised scratches running the full length of Mickey’s upper arm, all the way down till his hand comes to rest over top of his husband’s. The same hand that not long ago was squeezing its own marks into Ian’s flesh and now lies lax atop his stomach. 

Ian laces their hands together — the silver of Mickey’s ring shining bright under the light from the bedside lamp — and even in his sleep, Mickey’s fingers instinctively curl around Ian’s, pulling them closer.

How does he get to have this? When did this become Ian’s life? The freedom to let himself go, to release all inhibitions, to entirely consume the man he loves. And for that man to give back just as much of himself.

If someone had told a young Ian, cheeks still red and numb from an afternoon romp in the store’s freezer, that one day the boy he was fucking would be in his bed, exposed like this, he’d have laughed in their face. The boy who couldn’t even look him in the eyes when their dicks were out. Or even later, when things had changed between them — in private at least — the thought of leaving any trace, any evidence of their sins, would have sounded preposterous. 

Now, Ian eyes the cluster of bruises extending along Mickey’s neck all the way up to his ear. Bruises Mickey won’t even bother trying to hide. Bruises he’ll wear proudly, “fuck you, you’re just jealous you don’t get dicked down this good” when one of the siblings gives him crap about it. His husband who is absolutely nothing like the boy he once was but also exactly the same.

Ian looks around the room littered with discarded clothes, half their damn toybox scattered across the bed, dried lube starting to form a thin crust of some of their favorites. But there’s no need to jump up and tend to any of it. This is their home. Their space. No one's going to walk in on their mess. They are safe here. Free. Together.

Mickey’s hand still wrapped around his own, Ian slides down, nuzzles into his husband’s neck, and closes his eyes. Drifts off to the soft sound of Mickey’s breath.

When they wake, he’ll fetch Mickey a snack. Make sure he drinks plenty of water. He’ll kiss each and every remaining mark. Apologize for being too rough, too much, and Mickey will tell him to shut the fuck up about it. But later, Ian will make it up to him anyway with another round of tenderness that they’ll enjoy just as much as the first. Because that’s the kind of shit they get to have now. All of it.

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

[modx-reborn]

A spring affair

Bunny techno goes brrrr.

That is all.

SMUT UNDERCUT! MINORS DNI!

Spring had set in and the warren was being expanded, your hulking bunny hybrid partner was insistent on having at least two more rooms in the home before the winter snows fully melted and the flowers started to bloom once again. The living room was filled with the sounds of thumping and scratching, dirt and clay being packed into rounded walls that are braced with curved spruce, overall a lovely look if not for the grimy pink-haired male that came tramping out of a too-small hole.

He was at least six-five and the hole he had just wriggled his way out of was half that, but the size didn't matter as his ears twitched as he caught sight of you drapped across his couch. Shirt half pushed up your stomach as you dozed lightly, waiting for him to finish so you could steal a little bit of his time, having fallen asleep during the wait and so you don't notice as the once empty room was swiftly filled with blankets and pillows. You stir slightly as he works to move you through the small doorway, freezing as you look up at him with gentle eyes, sighing your name as he settles you down.

When he stands there is a good few inches between him and the curving roof, clothes being tugged off and thrown across the room as he settles in beside you, burying his head into the crook of your neck. Ears flicking about before he speaks, "It's spring, isn't it? Snows going to melt and we will have flowers on the roof again... It'll be nice, but you know it will also be-"

"Tech. Shut up and sleep please, before you start expanding the warren again to build another carrot farm..."

"Sure, Darlin' sure..."

There is no way to tell just how much time had passed as the two of you layed cuddled up in the darkroom, the lack of windows giving the feeling of midnight even if you had only arrived at the warren at about midday. Not that you minded, laying across his chest enjoying the feeling of his chest rising and falling as you drift off back to sleep.

As you sleep he wakes, it's in his blood to know when winter gives way to spring, sure he was able to fuck and breed every day of the year but something spoke about spring, about the perfect time to start really getting into how good you looked under him, a tangle of pleasure and limbs. The felling of your form sprawled across his chest gives him room to work, the arms wrapped around your waist moving slowly, slipping under the fabric of your clothes, fingers shaking at how slowly he must move, keeping you resting as he works his way to the join of thigh and hip

Teasing the soft skin till he hears the whines, soft things that come with small movements, little jerks and rolls of your hips. Gods he could almost smell how you were getting worked up, but for now, he would try to keep away from waking you, content to listen to the quiet versions of your pleasure.

Waking again you find yourself somewhere only slightly different to where you had been before, no longer held to Techno's chest but sprawled out beneath him the feeling of his soft ears brushing against your thighs follows the warm feeling of his mouth kissing up the plush skin. Red eyes peeking up from a tangled mess of pink hair, catching the lidded stare you cast down at him as he lays a final kiss to the cloth covering your sex, huffing out a breath before tucking his hands under your hips and flipping you over.

"You know how good you sound? Even when you sleep you sound so good under my hands, whining and making me more and more aware of the season..."

It clicks in your head as he presses in close, rutting his cock against your ass as he grumbles out more words, voice deep with sleep and lust as he positions you as he needs. Strong hands quick to simply pull down what had been keeping him from sinking his cock into you, sucking in a hissed breath as he see just how worked up you had become from his touch.

"Look so good like this... Will look even better dripping my cum but for now, I'm going to enjoy how you feel. Plenty of time later to fill you back up."

You are well and truly awake now, long fingers slipping easily in and out of you, working to stretch you open and have you ready, all too aware of what would happen had he not been in the mind to do so.

Whining his name and hands scrabbling behind you as he pulls away, the need for his touch to return being quelled as you feel one of his hands spread you open, the blunt head of his cock sliding against you for a few moments before he begins to press in. The hand not holding his cock steady is quick to tangle in your hair, pressing you face-first into the pillows, groaning from deep in his chest as he watches how you take him.

"Just like that, so good for me, gonna keep you fucked and full all spring. Watch you try to keep it all in, and you will? Won't you? Keep all my cum right where I left it, where it should be..."

It's now clear why this new bed is simply a mess on the floor rather than a wooden thing, with how harshly he was driving his hips into you, any other base would have snapped, creaked or rattled its way out of shape by now. Even your white-knuckled grip on the sheets below you can barely hold you still as Techno fucks into you, a steady rhythm becoming more and more feral as he begins to give in to his more hybrid traits.

Spring would be long, and these nights with Techno would be longer, as you felt him pull your hips back into him grunting as he filled you, only stopping for a moment before you feel him start to move once again. He was eager to keep his promise of keeping you fucked and full, but when he moves to pull you up, pressing your back to his chest as he makes you bounce on his cock, you find you are fine with that.

The crow father and the little inchling will just have to steer clear of the warren for the next few months, is all...

[lonely-lost-soul]

A Pirate's Life for Me

Cover Art Done By: @fridaydev-draws and @friday-dsv (Dreamsmp x reader) Pirate Au! Love Interests: C!Wilbur, C!Techno, C!Dream, C!Sapnap, C!Quackity, and C!Schlatt

~~~

Salt burned your lungs as you tossed open your window with a loud bang, the seagulls perching on your flower boxes screeched in protest and flew from your window. “Fucking sky rats get the fuck out of here you heathens!” You snarled out the window shaking your fist at the bothersome birds, the sounds of the ocean crashing on the shore filled your ears as well as the chatter of the dock workers. You let the breeze blow back your hair and you heard someone calling your name from down below.

“Good morning (Y/n)!” You glanced below you and grinned,

“Morning Eret!” They waved back enthusiastically their dress spilling around their ankles, a basket of fruit was balanced on his hip. “Opening early today? I'm sure your patrons would be happy to start their drunken stupor early,” She held a hand to his mouth snickering and you shot them a look.

“If that gets more money in my pocket then so be it, I won't complain too much.” You shrugged, “Will I still see you later tonight?”

“Always do dove, how can I resist a drink from my favorite bartender.”

“You can’t it’s my charm.”

“Will the both of you shut the fuck up!” Another man’s voice growled from another open window, “It’s too early for your bullshit.” You saw Eret click his tongue but smiled up at you despite the man's protests,

“I’m heading to the market anyway. These fruits won’t sell themselves, I'll see you later.”

“See you soon!” You closed your windows once more, but not before urging your daisies to grow one last time. You tossed open the curtains allowing light to spill into your cozy home, a small carpet was in the middle of your room. It was a deep red and the pattern was made of gold yarn, aside from that everything in your residency was made of dark wood. Your shelves were littered with books and empty cups, and your old worn journal sat open on your desk. It was filled with childhood memories and you continued to write in it to this day, it was easier then, things were simple and everything was innocent and new to you. Now your days were filled with sea fairing idiots who liked to drink themselves stupid, but you could handle yourself, you always kept your father's dagger on your thigh at all times. Those who were frequent customers knew not to mess with you and those who were new learned their lesson within the first ten minutes of meeting you. You inherited the bar from your father, a kindhearted man who died a few years before today, leaving you with the bar and the dagger you had on your hip. You fished through your closet pulling out your clothes for the day, your dress was a gorgeous light coffee color and came down to your ankles. The bottom was flared and had dark brown panels on the sides, it faded inward to a light green then back to the coffee color. The corset around your waist was a dark brown with light green trim, you tied it tight with a small huff making sure your waist was sinched perfectly. The sleeves came down to your elbows allowing you to move your arms freely while making drinks. The top of the dress ended just below your collarbone, you strapped your dagger to your thigh before lacing up your knee-high black boots.

You thought back to your tavern downstairs, you were fortunate enough that you weren’t running this entire operation yourself. You ended up hiring help and they were like family and you knew they saw you as such as well. Most of the girls didn’t have a family of their own so you gave them room and board, also money, of course, you weren’t a terrible boss! You opened the door to your room, you watched Cecil, the tavern’s mascot trot out of Juniper’s room. The border collie liked to switch up which rooms he stayed in protecting every one of your girls when you couldn’t be there for them.

The first of your girls was Adelaide or Addie, she was one of the first to fall under your care. She was around your age, a motherly type, sheep hybrid, who cared for the girls, and always gave the drunk patrons with mommy issues a shoulder to cry on. Her long brown hair always hung down her back, she typically worked tables, served food and drinks, and always got a generous tip from patrons.

The next girl was Judas, a squid-enderman hybrid who was taller than you could ever wish to be, although intimidating you couldn’t meet a kinder woman. A jack of all trades the woman helped out wherever she could, black-ish purple hair curled around her shoulders and some people came specifically to hear her sing. Her voice was like rich velvet and lured men and women in like a siren.

Juniper was after Judas, a demon hybrid who was naive but you’d be a fool to underestimate her. She worked beside you at the bar, she can make some mean fruity drinks, Eret always preferred her drinks over yours. Freckles adorned her face and shoulders, her light brown hair curled down to her middle back, purple horns sprouted from the top of her head. You wanted to adorn it with gold jewelry and you were saving up to gift some to her.

Yeti was a human woman like yourself, she didn’t bother with those who were rude or obnoxious. She kept to herself only really talking when she was spoken to or when there was an opportunity to crack a rare joke. She typically stayed on the sidelines, out of the scenes and Yeti liked to help Judas decorate her sets.

Zig was a kind young adult, they got along with everyone who came inside the tavern. Soft emerald eyes drew people in, and they tried to make sure tensions within the bar didn’t rise and start a fight. There would always be one or two that’s just natural, but one look at Zig and his magic words and they seemed to disperse, not wanting to hurt the kid’s feelings.

Vendetta was the tallest member of the group you had taken in, she was stunningly beautiful and didn't take shit from anybody. She was a guard dog if you will, making sure no one fucked with any of the girls in your tavern. While Zig did their best to keep people under control sometimes they couldn’t win. That’s when Ven would step in and ‘kindly’ escort them off the premises with or without force.

The youngest member here was Luvena. She was a moo-bloom hybrid with soft brown hair that sprouted flowers, her cow ears would twitch when she was excited and followed Addie around like she was her daughter. Addie took her under her wing and was training her to be a perfect little waitress, absolutely warming customers’ hearts. Luvena also loved to give out flowers, she was a fan favorite bringing new life into the tavern.

Cecil barked seeing his mama and scampered over to you, you poured food into his bowl as Juniper wandered into the hallway. Her head rested on the doorframe as she gave you a tried wave, “Morning (Y/n).”

“Morning Juni, We’re opening a little early today. Take your time I’m not expecting a big rush of bar patrons this early.” You assured her and she gave a sleepy nod,

“I’ll be down as soon as Ven’s out of the shower.” She yawned, “This beauty doesn’t come naturally.”

“Hardly darling you’re gorgeous just the way you are.” You reassured with a wink, Juniper flushed a little, happily laughing beside you.

“Just go wake the others will you, you flirt!”

Tossing your head back you gave a happy laugh heading down the hallway to make sure everyone was awake and ready to go for later. Addie and Luvena shared a room so she was in charge of waking up the youngest member of the tavern. Judas was already awake making breakfast for everyone when you headed downstairs, Zig was sitting on the counter beside her, they were the designated taste tester.

“Good morning Miss (Y/n)!” Zig chirped, the young adult hummed fondly, “Sleep okay?”

“Absolutely. What about you both? Thank you for making breakfast Judas.” You hummed fondly and Judas had a shy smile on her face.

“I slept well thank you.” Judas hummed softly, “Also it’s my pleasure. Want to make sure everyone’s healthy and alright.” She let out a little squeak as you wrapped your arms around her body, you barely came up to her chest,

“Judas please marry me,” You complained, “Your breakfast is always heavenly and you care for everyone. Please be my wife.”

“(Y/n)! Please.” She sputtered face turning a dark purple, Zig made a noise of protest and held his hand in the air.

“If she won’t marry you I will!”

“Zig! I’d be honored!”

Their entire face lit up with excitement and they hopped off the table to hug you tightly, you hugged them back and pressed a fond kiss to the top of their head. “I got to open up the tavern, you mind setting the table for me Zig?”

“Sure Miss!”

You sent Judas a kiss in the air which her face burned at, quickly going back to her cooking. You smiled eagerly and unlocked the door to the tavern, you shoved a bucket in front of the door to keep it open. The salty ocean air wafted through your nostrils and your eyes sparkled wondrously.

Today is going to be a good day.

Almost immediately a particular bastard caught your eye,

“You’re here early.” You mused raising an eyebrow,

“Heard you were opening early today sweetcheeks,” His voice was a low baritone, rough from years of smoking and drinking. Horns curled around his fluffy ears that stood out against his gruff exterior, he was a ram hybrid at its finest. “Figured I’d take the opportunity to get a special drink from my special girl,” He mused looking you up and down drinking in your figure. You scoffed at the retired man, he dressed like he was cosplaying captain jack sparrow, the gun’s in his belt just added to his costume and so did his large ruffled shirt, he was never one to forget his gold jewelry.

“Where’s Quackity?” You ignored him sitting him at his usual table, he frowned but you knew he was taking it as an opportunity to stare at your ass. He slid into the stool and put his feet up on the table, his boots were muddy but you could only control him so much. He was too much of a regular to get scared off by your threats and scolding.

“He’ll be in at his normal time. He’s not much of a day drinker, although can’t say I’m complaining. Having all your attention on me and all, considering I’m the only one in here. That being said, I’ll have my usual sweetcheeks.”

“Stop calling me that,” You scolded with a certain fondness that was reserved for the man. “You’re lucky you’re my favorite regular Schlatt,” you gave his ears a fond pinch and he bleated. He sent you a scalding look as you walked away, although the look soon fell as he got a good look at your ass once again.

“I’m your only regular sugar tits!”

“Schlatt feet off the table.” Addie criticized whacking his boots with a rolled-up menu, he rolled his eyes but dropped his feet to the floor. “You should know this by now, we go through this every day.”

“Yeah, yeah little lamb I’m on it. Judas here?”

“She’s always here,” She huffed spreading the menu down on the table. “Do you want your usual or something different? Should I get Quackity’s drink ready too?”

“Nah just stick with mine, for now, tell Judas I’d like to see her.”

Addie clicked her tongue and placed her hand on her hip, “fine. But if you’re just going to grossly flirt with her as you do with (y/n), then keep it to yourself.”

“You’re not the boss of me. Just because you look like an old hag-” The way she glared at him sent a chill down his spine, “shit babe take a joke will you.”

Eventually, people began to file into the tavern, as the morning faded into the afternoon and then into the evening. The tavern was bustling with life, Judas’s elegant voice traveled through the crowds and her voices seemed to float above the voices. Quackity joined Schlatt by his side seemingly irritated by a conversation they were having, Schlatt was about five drinks in at this point, which was much less than his usual, and Quackity on his second.

“What are they talking about?” Luvena asked swinging her legs as she sat on the bar beside you. Her moobloom ears twitching every so often as she tried to eavesdrop on their conversation,

“Vena it’s impolite to eavesdrop.” You scolded bopping her on the head lightly, she whined and rubbed the top of her head.

“I wasn’t!” She argued as you rolled your eyes, you looked over at the two men to find Quackity looking over at you. His hand was raised in the air, one finger was up summoning you to get him another drink.

“I’ll be back, why don’t you talk to Ven while I’m gone. She’ll keep an eye on you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter!”

“Good thing she doesn’t want to babysit your ass either, now shoo.” You motioned her to hop off the bar and she did so with a long, dramatic sigh. You looked over at Ven who gave you a silent nod, letting you know she’d watch out for the youngest member of your band of misfits. Meanwhile, you grabbed Quackity another drink and walked over to the two men at the table, “Someone order a drink?”

“Aye! Mamacita! Fancy seeing you here.” Quackity purred a bright smile spreading across his face seeing that you were the one to deliver his drink,

“Hey Big Q,” You greeted placing the drink in front of him, “You doing okay?”

“Better now that an angel walked into my sight,” He flirted and you rolled your eyes. “What? It’s true! You always brighten my day you know? Ow!” Schlatt hit his ex-first mate over the head,

“Take a breath lover boy. Thanks for the drink sugar tits.”

“You’re welcome, what were the both of you talking about if I may ask.” You hummed grabbing some of Schlatt’s empty glasses, an uncharacteristic frown came over both their faces. “Oh? Touchy subject?”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Just dishing out some old problems, most of which are better left unsaid.” He aimed that statement at Quackity, his jaw seemed clenched and Quackity’s brow furrowed in annoyance.

“Well I just want to remind the both of you,” You passed the tray of empty glasses over to Addie as she walked by, she took them swiftly. You grabbed the side of both their heads and pressed them against your chest, not that you knew but both men’s flushed to the tips of their ears. “No physical fights are allowed in this tavern. If one starts I won’t hesitate to kick your fucking asses. Got it?” They looked over your chest and locked eyes with one another, after years on the sea they could read one another’s facial expressions rather easily and at that moment they shared the same thought,

‘They should fight more often.’

“I said, got it?”

“Yes ma’am,” The repeated simultaneously as you pulled away,

“That’s what I like to hear-”

“(Y/n)!” Vendetta’s velvety voice called out from behind you, you turned and saw a group of newcomers file into your bar. Your body tensed momentarily,

Pirates.

Schlatt turned his head to follow your gaze and he tensed from behind you, “fuck me.” He growled and Quackity raised an eyebrow at his captain, he turned to look over his shoulder and his face lit up.

“Sapnap!”

The pirate who had a white bandana tied around his forehead glanced over at him and a smile lit up across his features. “Quackity? Is that you?”

“My man!” He stood up from his chair heading over to wrap the man in a hug, “I haven’t seen you in years, man.” You zoned out of their conversation eyes locking with a few of the other pirates who walked into the tavern. Vendetta and Addie both greeted them, but everyone who was under your care knew to keep their guard up around pirates. From what you could gather there seemed to be two crews, a crew of what only seemed to be two, Sapnap was included. The fire demon was still talking with Quackity, while the other man took in the view of the tavern, he had shaggy blonde hair, and had a few scars across his face. A porcelain mask sat on top of his head, a forest green cloak was around his shoulders, his hood was lowered around his neck. A sword was strapped tight against his hip and there was another dagger that seemed to be tucked against his side. His eyes gazed towards you and he winked teasingly with a coy smile, you scoffed looking over at Addie.

“Seat those two gentlemen yeah? Be careful, I’ll tell Ven and Yeti to keep an eye.” Addie looked at you, concern written on her soft features but she nodded. While Addie departed, you noticed Ven talking with the other group. Luvena was hiding behind Vendetta’s long legs, although a tall blonde boy seemed very keen on talking to her. You smoothed out your dress and moved towards the group of three, you eyed them up casually. The blonde looked to be around Luvena’s age, he had a shit-eating grin on his face and his uniform matched that of the second tallest in the group. The second tallest was clad in a light blue jacket with large golden buttons on the red collar. He had a cream-frilled shirt underneath and a black belt holding up his brown slacks, those were tucked into black boots. On his back seemed to be a guitar and was the only one of them not holding a weapon, but you knew better than to assume with pirates. His curly brown hair seemed to bounce every time he talked, he seemed to be the ringleader but there was no doubt that the real ringleader was the hybrid standing beside him. He was taller, on par with Vendetta in height, he had long pink hair that was tied in a ponytail on top of his head. A few pieces framed his face elegantly, there was no doubt he was the captain of the little crew that was in your tavern. He had a white shirt on with a deep low cut ‘V’ it showed off a good portion of his scared chest, around his shoulders sat a deep red jacket but his arms were outside of it and crossed over his chest. He seemed content on letting his second in command do all the talking, his red eyes were the only ones to meet yours. His head tilted upwards and before Vendetta could stop him he walked over towards you,

“You own the tavern?” His voice was a low monotone and it sent an array of pleasant chills up your spine.

“I do,” You raised an eyebrow crossing your arms over your chest, “Names (Y/n). You are?”

“Captain Technoblade of the ship Odyssey, I was hoping you had a few rooms and a table available. My brothers and I are pretty exhausted, we’ve been sailing all night.”

Brothers, they certainly didn’t all look alike, but then again you certainly had a mix of girls in your care. Your tongue swiped against the top row of your teeth, “Why don’t you and your brothers take a seat at the bar for now. Juniper will be happy to serve you, I’ll see if we have some free rooms available.”

“Thank you, once you return I’ll introduce them to you if you’d like,” Technoblade bowed his head before turning back to get his brother’s attention.

“I’d like that thank you.” You gave a nod motioning for Vendetta to follow you as you slid behind the bar with Juniper, Judas had also taken a spot sitting on the bar. You figured you’d let her know as well, considering she was another adult figure in the group. You knew either Juniper or Judas would fill in Addie considering the three were close. “Ven, can they be trusted?”

“Not too sure about the masked man, the one Quackity seems to be familiar with seems decent enough. He’s a fire demon though, could smell him from miles away, we all just need to be cautious.”

“Agreed,” Juniper added tapping her finger on her chin. “We should just try to curb all fighting if at all possible, what did the captain of the other group ask you?”

“They want a room, I’m about to check to see if we have availability. Thoughts on that?”

Judas let out a low hum her eyes followed both sets of pirate groups around the tavern, “I say if we have availability let them stay. They seem harmless so long as we don’t mess with them, which we’d never do.”

“Plus I can always stay awake to keep an eye on them.” Vendetta tapped her nails against the table,

“You sure.”

“As if I’d let anything happen to any of you, you’re my family.”

You all smiled softly, and you noticed Judas’s eyes widen, “Zig! Get that out of your mouth this instant!” She shot up from her spot and over to the person in question. The three of you laughed fondly at the nonsense, meanwhile, Juniper saw the three brothers sit at her bar. She moved away from you to greet them, you immediately could tell she was taken with the second eldest brother.

He seemed to be an absolute lady killer.

Vendetta ruffled your hair before going back to stand at her place by the door to keep the peace. You headed up the stairs to the rafters to check on the extra rooms you had, “Excuse me?” You tensed visibly turning around to face the man in all green. His eyes were mesmerizing, a fierce jade green to contrast his cloak, “Do you happen to have two rooms available?” The man held up two fingers to clarify his request,

“Do you usually start introductions with a blatant request like that?”

He chuckled a smile spreading across his lips, “I’m Dream and you gorgeous?”

“(Y/n), it’s your lucky day I’m about to check and see if any are available. My tavern is a hot commodity tonight.”

“Well, I can see why,” he spoke and you raised an eyebrow and tilted your head to the side.

“Oh?”

“It has the hottest owner around. Word spreads fast.”

You couldn’t believe this man was making your cheeks burn, he chuckled softly taking a step towards your figure. “Oh really, word spreads that fast on the open sea, Captian?” It was his turn to turn light pink, but he covered it up quickly with a chuckle.

“Touché.”

“I’ll get on that room for you and your friend. Take a seat, for now, this part is for guests and staff only you know?”

“So I have you all to myself?” He cheekily mused, he stepped towards you and before you knew it you were pinned against a wall. His hand suddenly brushed against your cheek, it was cold in comparison to your warm cheek. You felt Dream’s thumb brush against your cheek slowly, “You know...being on the open sea alone does something to a person.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” You mused pushing your forehead back against Dream’s, “All alone with only your crew with you.” Taking his other hand within your own you slid it up to your hip, you saw his entire face turn red as he stared down at your chest. “You’re probably missing a little love in your life, aren’t you Dreamy?” He nodded dumbly, his eyes still not leaving your chest,

Perfect. You weren’t going to let some pirate boy get the better of you.

He let out a grunt of pain as you spun him around and pressed his head into the wall with your elbow, your other hand has his pinned behind his back. “This hallway is for staff and guests only,” You purred in his ear before letting him go and swinging your hips before heading up the stairs fully. From behind you, Dream’s face was a deep, dark red and he had to clear his throat. Dream wasn’t going to let you go after that, I mean look at you, tough and able to hold your own, it awakened something inside him.

After checking up on the rooms you headed back down into the main hall, three-room keys in your hand. Glancing over at the scene in front of you, you saw Juniper dancing in the middle of the tavern the flirtatious brother at her side. Judas was sitting beside Schatt and Quackity at the bar, Addie was tending to Technoblade and the blonde at their little table. Dream and Sapnap were whispering to one another in the corner but still seemed to be enjoying the show. Vendetta was smiling softly by the door, beside her were Luvena and Zig both playing various instruments. You noticed Eret was also amongst the crowd, she had a brilliant grin on his face, it was flushed pink with alcohol and you smiled to yourself.

It was peaceful, and for a moment you forget half the patrons were scoundrels or pirates.

That was until the man dancing with Juniper locked eyes with you, his eyes lit up and he spun Juniper off into Addie’s arms. She giggled snuggling into the mother sheep’s arms, you heard a distressed “Juni! I’m holding glasses!” Before your vision was overtaken by the handsome flirt.

“Hello love,” He hummed, “May I offer you a dance?”

You were about to refuse but you saw Yeti, who finally made her appearance as it was getting closer to Judas’s set, giving you a big thumbs up “I’d be honored.” You responded taking his hand within your own, he pulled you out onto the dance floor and you felt his other hand politely hover on the small of your back. He allowed you to lean into his touch as he began to elegantly spin you around the dance floor, you were almost embarrassed to say felt like a princess. “Maybe I could get your name?” You asked above the music, “Since it seems you’re my dance partner this evening?”

“Wilbur Soot my love.” He hummed proudly, “The first mate of the ship Odysseus at your service. Plus I play music on the side.”

“Well now you need to play for us,” Wilbur twirled you around in a circle,

“Maybe one day. If you give me your name?”

“(Y/n) (L/n).”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

“I was right.” You commented biting the bottom of your lip trying not to smile,

“About what?”

“You.”

“Ah? Already talking about me I see? Is my manliness and gentlemanly qualities that renowned?”

“Not exactly.” He picked you up slightly and pulled you into a low dip, “I was right in thinking you a nothing but a flirty playboy.” Wilbur almost dropped you, you squawked grabbing onto his neck. He began to laugh as you clung to his chest,

“Alright love. You caught me red-handed.”

Wilbur set you on your feet hands on your lower back, you were pulled close to his chest. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“I get them for free hon. I own the place.”

“Oh...oh.” He paled a little, “I didn’t fuck up our chances of getting a room did I?”

“Nah lucky for you and your brothers, I have you covered, same with your buddies over there.” You motioned to Dream and Quackity’s friend, Wilbur’s face paled as he felt the chilled room key get placed in his palm. “What’s your little brother’s name?”

“Tommy.”

“Tell them both we serve breakfast free from 7 am to 10 am.” He nodded as you walked past, Wilbur meanwhile turned to look at Technoblade. It seemed he had his red eyes on the couple the entire time they were dancing. He held up a room key, it was labeled 205; Technoblade nodded his head before leaning back and talking to Addie once more. “Dream!” You called throwing a hand up into the air, instead of Dream, Sapnap looked up he nudged Dream with his elbow. The man was now wearing his mask, but at least you could tell he was looking at you,

“Well hello, darlin’ you must be (Y/n). Name's Sapnap. Dream told me about you, so you have good news for us I hope?”

“Pleasure, I'm sure he told you all about me,” He nodded, his eyes taking in your body especially your ass. “Got you both a room key, your neighbors. Across from the other crew of pirates. Just don’t fight and we won’t have any problems.”

“You mean those jackasses are staying?” Sapnap complained loudly, looking over your shoulder at the other crew members.

“You both didn’t think you were the only patrons, did you? This is a business after all.” You, tossed the keys their way, Dream caught it with ease and Sapnap fumbled it only a little bit. After they were in their hands, you waved them off with a flutter of your palm you turned around to go speak with Judas about her set but before you could take a step you saw Schlatt stumbling up from his seat. “Ah shit,” You knew what was about to happen, you weren’t paying attention to the ram hybrid so who knew how many drinks in he was. You felt responsible, for a while you and Judas had been trying to help Schlatt with his addiction. You couldn’t help but wonder what exactly set him off for him to get this drunk, Quackity caught him in his arms with a grumble. The man was a drunken mess, and as you approached you could hear his slurred speech and could practically smell the alcohol on his breath. “Schlatt,” You spoke carefully and as soon as you got close Schlatt detached himself from Quackity and lunged at you. His head was buried in his chest, he almost purred like he was very happy to be there, you rolled your eyes and ran your fingers through his hair. You were mindful of his horns but he seemed pretty eager for you to touch them,

“(Y/n).” He whined although it was muffled against your ample chest, “Why do pirates have to fuck everything up?”

“What are you on about Schlatt? No one likes pirates.”

“They’re gonna take you away from me, sugar. You’re my safe space, this tavern is my safe space.” You sighed listening to his drunken ramblings, you grabbed his horns and pulled him away from your chest.

“This is my life Schlatt, I’m not going anywhere trust me. Plus my family is here, they need me. So try not to worry okay?” You slicked back the hair on his forehead before planting a fond kiss there, everyone in the tavern narrowed their eyes at the scene. Even your girls were green with envy, at the sight of their lovely boss kissing someone who wasn’t them. He leaned against your lips eyes fluttering closed,

“Well, well, well if it isn’t Captian Schlatt? Or ex-captain if I remember correctly.”

“What?”

You turned your head and felt Schlatt’s arms wrap around your waist and held you close to his chest. The touch was protective and you felt your heart skip a beat, why was he protecting you, and why did you actually feel protected?

“Has the drinking finally caught up to you? Or was it the fact that you lost your so-”

Was that Dream's voice?

“Shut the fuck up.” He snarled and you were shoved behind him into Quackity’s arms, you felt less protected. “I’m not that person anymore and you fucking know that,” Vendetta came to stand beside the both of you a hand was placed on your shoulder protectively. You knew she was desperately wanted to step in and you held up a hand to stop her.

“This isn’t good…” Quackity murmured, “They’re going to fight. Schlatt’s going to get himself fucking killed.”

“Calm yourself. We won’t let it get that far.” Ven grumbled eyeing you waiting for your signal. But you were lost in the conversation or argument, the two were having, you couldn’t believe Schlatt was a pirate. He was so...he just didn’t...he was a drunk okay? That didn’t exactly shout feared pirate to you!

“Oh, are you sure? I remember that look, that’s the look you’d get before you stomped someone’s lights out. No wonder your son disappeared under mysterious circumstances-” Dream was shoved against one of the poles holding up the building. He grunted and Schlatt’s arm was pulled back ready to punch, but his arm was stopped by smaller hands,

“Pardon me Mr. Schlatt but you know how we feel about fighting in our tavern.” Addie bubbled, she had a smile on her face but it wasn’t kind, it was full of warning.

“Get the fuck off me, sheepie. This doesn’t fucking concern you.” Schlatt shoved her away and as soon as his skin made contact with her body he made a sound of distress.

“(Y/n)...” Addie murmured quietly, your father’s dagger was embedded in Schlatt’s arm,

“Fucking hell you bitch!” He snarled baring his teeth, you glared at him twisting the dagger he yelled in agony.

“Touch one of my girls again and next time this dagger is going right into your back.” You ripped the dagger out, splattering the floor with blood. He grabbed his arm tightly and looked at you with slight betrayal in his yellow eyes. “I mean it Schlatt, Quackity take him home.” The man nodded looking at you longingly, he muttered a quiet ‘Sorry’ before escorting him out of your tavern. “You,” You glared harshly over at Dream, “Go to your room.”

“You’re not my mother.”

“Then find another play to stay.” You spat, he turned away and you looked over at Addie, “Are you alright?” Your voice turned tender as you cupped her cheeks. She nuzzled against your palms and nodded her head,

“I’m fine. You didn’t need to-”

“Yes, I did. No one messes with you. With any of you on my watch.”

The sheep hybrid made a little sound as her bottom lip trembled, she wrapped you in a tight hug which you accepted without hesitance. Judas walked over next and wrapped you both in her arms, pretty soon you were surrounded by your girls and Zig.

All of them had the same mindset: comforting both you and Addie.

It was good to be loved.

Wilbur watched the scene curiously and glanced over at Technoblade who stood up from his chair.

“I think that’s our cue to leave for the night.” He looked over at his first mate, Wilbur nodded in agreement grabbing his guitar from the chair beside Technoblade.

“They...Techno were they talking about Tubbo.” Tommy whispered to his brother, his brow furrowing in concern as they all climbed the steps up to their room, “You don’t think-”

“It just might be Tommy.” Technoblade tilted his head to the side, “Guess that’ll be something we ask him when we get back to the ship tomorrow.”

“Well, this trip is going to be way more fun than I thought.” Wilbur snickered lighting a cigarette, taking a long drag, before letting the smoke curl out of his mouth and up into the rafters. ~~~

Tag List: @v01dw4lk3rz, @jam-bombs, @abovenyx, @glitterydigitalart, @phoenixaesthetic19, @luluwinchester, @boiled-onionrings, @pastelmoonwitche, @roxy3457, @alovestruck-fool, @victory-is-here, @mack4676, @fiorenc, @theoneandonlyyeti, @bloodrose0723, @sandyy-woo,

[double-hoe-seven]

AFC Richmond as boyfriends

Here’s a lil headcanon collection of our favorite himbos as boyfriends.

I did it again for the staff (: AFC Richmond Staff as partners

A/N: Definitely didn’t put everyone but these were my top ones and it’s 2 AM so imma leave it here.

Sam Obisanya

The absolute sweetest man you have ever met

Such a softie, very concerned about making sure you’re happy and comfortable with whatever choices you make together.

He always picks the most random times to surprise you with things; showing up at your work randomly for lunch or with coffee/tea, random little souvenirs from his away games.

He’s always putting himself second and sometimes you have to remind him “hey, babe, you can do things for yourself, you deserve nice things too.”

Just, compliments galore with him. He’ll always find a way to compliment you on something.

The most cuddly person ever, he loves public affection (hand holding, piggy backing, hugging, kissing if it’s not raunchy, etc), he really just likes showing you off because he feels like the luckiest man in the world to have you.

He takes his time with your relationship, letting it bloom and grow at it’s own pace.

There aren’t many fights between you, hardly ever, the last “fight” you had was because you couldn’t unanimously decide which dog to rescue. The solution? You adopted both, now you share a one-eyed Jack Russell Terrier named Starro and a three legged German Shepherd puppy named Harry (Pawter. He was so proud at his pun when he showed you the then 3-month old puppy.)

Again, just the sweetest, more romantic man you’ve ever met and ever will meet.

thesexisgoodtoo. hesaverygentleandgivinglover

Isaac McAdoo

Man’s stubborn.

I mean it, he is as stubborn as a mule.

I’M DEAD SERIOUS, he once pouted for 5 days when you accidentally ate the last Rolo in the flat.

But he’s also romantic in a sort of rugged way?

He won’t go shopping with you but he knows what colors look best on you, he knows what styles look good on you, and he has your sizes and shades memorized.

Bear.

Mr. sometimes-crank-teddy-bear over here.

He’ll say he doesn’t want something but he will eat half of your food if given the chance. If you step away from your food to get a drink or something, there will be a good part mission when you get back.

Its a tradition to go on a date the morning of a game, and snuggle up with a movie after the game.

You have had more than a few drunk texts from him, all of them equally funny and full of sexual innuendos.

You don’t address his Rolo addiction. It could be something much worse anyway.

Richard Montlaur

So many visits to the goat farm he was raised on!

He really has to drag you back to London after visiting his parents because you don’t want to leave all the precious goats (and you and his parents get along famously).

You spend alternating holidays with each others families (except for Bastille day, you always spend that either together or with his family.)

There are always roses in your shared flat.

It’s a constant battle over his facial hair.

He has a grudge against the way the English make French pastries.

He has a habit of falling asleep on the couch or in uncomfortable positions and then wondering why his back or neck hurts.

Little spoon.

He’s teaching you French.

This man is a smooth operator, master at flirtation and romance. He’s good at planning romantic dates and outtings.

Dani Rojas

You 100% believe his mom when she says he was born caffeinated.

One of your first dates was a Mumford and Sons concert which was an interesting experience.

Soft boi hours with him. He’s a lil puppy dog.

Does this man ever sleep? Rarely.

He rises with the son and wants to get the day started immediately but he’s mostly letting you sleep in now.

He LOVES trying new things, exploring new places, generally having new experiences.

His absolute favorite thing to do when he’s not training is playing football (or any game, really) with the kids in your neighborhood. They all love him.

He’s a sweet boyfriend, not as sweet as Sam but he’s a close second.

You alternate who plans date night. You split the chores 50/50 but divvy it up if one of you is sick or has more work to do.

There’s so much alcohol in your flat its unreal.

You usually go to sleep before him but he has a bad habit of throwing himself into bed and partially waking you.

He makes the best breakfast most mornings.

And don’t forget the trips back home to visit his family in Guadalajara.

After a long day of training, he loves just laying down with his head on your lap while you run your fingers through his hair.

Jamie Tartt (Season 1)

FUCK NO

Jamie Tartt (Season 2)

On your first date you got drunk and bonded over shitty fathers.

Not that either of you really remembered the next day, you were both too hungover to immediately recall the night.

His love language is kind words.

At the start he needed a lot of reassuring that you did care about him for who he was, warts and all.

He’s slightly awkward when it comes to romantic gestures so most of the date planning falls on you don’t mind.

He still has some high maintenance behavior but he’s working on it and you’re proud of how far he’s come from the prick he used to be.

Your fights are usually over petty shit like where to eat for dinner or what movie to go see.

He will not hesitate to buy your feminine products for you. He knows your preferred brands and sizes and what treats you like when its that time.

He’s good at those rigged carnival games, the many little stuffed animals in your closet can attest to that.

He talks in his sleep. It’s all nonsense.

He has a soft spot for the neighbor’s cat (and cats in general).

Roy Kent

Rugged.

He’s great to snuggle up to.

The man is honest to boot. He doesn’t sugar coat anything at all.

10/10 times he will go down on you if asked. He’s a giver.

He is the heaviest sleeper in the world. You don’t know why he bothers setting alarms.

Phoebe has a room at your flat and spends so much time with you both.

Many nights have been spent reading different books on the couch together.

He has to clean the drains since 75% of it is his.

Fuck is a very versatile word in your home, used daily.

Not the most romantic man alive but he has his moments.

Date nights are usually relaxed and proper but sometimes you can make the old man have a little fun.

He growls at least a dozen times a day, it’s his main response.

Jan Maas

My beloved

My sweet, beloved Jan who can’t/won’t use a filter to save his life.

He’s blunt in everything and sometimes it makes you want to slap him.

Jan is still getting used to English ways and mannerisms.

He has good intentions but sometimes needs a little help with wording.

He likes going on Aquarium dates.

The more tired he is, the clingier he is and it’s too cute.

Once after a game he plopped onto the couch next to you and basically tried to curl up in your lap.

He can make amazing pancakes.

Thats it though.

You’ll do most of the cooking if you value living in a flat that’s not on fire.

He’s a sweetheart though.

Mostly good intentions though.

Doesn’t mind nudity and had to quickly be reined in by the team. Not at home though.

At home he can easily be found lounging in boxers and a t-shirt while he sips coffee.

He knows what he’s doing.

Tag Team: @bdffkierenwalker​

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

Home (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Umm... Surprise!

Double Lizzie! Here's a little something I don't think any of you expected. :)

There she was, smiling back at you. When she moved towards you, everything slowed down and when she pressed her lips to your it was like you had all the answers you ever needed to know. Forever.

Leigh pulled you closer and you wrapped your arms loosely around her, the feeling familiar.

When you pulled away you looked over Leigh’s shoulder to see Wanda smiling weakly back at you, her hand connected with someone else. Someone that wasn’t you.

Before you could look any longer, Leigh gently placed her hand on your cheek to get your attention. You smiled easily back at her. It was Leigh. It always was.

With a start, you shot up in bed, the images from your dream still flashing vividly in your mind. It was like your subconscious was telling you the path that you should take.

Suddenly, the tangled webs in your heart came undone because you knew. You knew. Even though it was going to break your heart, you knew what you had to do.

You would never forgive yourself if you didn’t.

With shaky hands, you scrambled for your phone. The simple action felt heavy as you blindly scrolled through your contacts until you landed on the familiar name. Your finger hovered over the contact, the weight of the action feeling almost impossible as your heart thrummed heavily against your ribcage. The phone rang steadily, and you were certain there would be no answer until-

“Y/n? Is everything okay?” The groggy voice floating softly into your ears. The sight of her face on your screen caused your heart rate to increase.

“Yes- No… I don’t know. I just- I needed to talk to someone and I realize how selfish it is of me to call and ask that of you, but I just-… I needed to hear your voice.”

Her voice interrupted your nervous ramblings as she sleepily rubbed her eyes. “Y/n. Breathe. It’s fine. Let’s talk.”

Hesitantly you laid back in your bed, the images from your dream still racing intensely in your mind. “Thank you, Wanda.” You mumbled, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck. You quietly watched her yawn as she shifted the pillows around on her bed. “What are you doing?”

“It’s late. We can talk while I’m comfortable in bed.” She explained simply and you could see her smile slightly at your question.

All you could do was wish you were there. In her arms with your head on her chest. The study strum of her heartbeat under your ear. You held tightly to a pillow and pretended it was her instead.

For a moment silence settled into the air and you were almost certain Wanda had fallen back asleep until her voice broke up the silence. “What made you call at…” You could see her tilt her head to glance at the clock on her bedside table. “4 in the morning. Is everything okay?”

Her words were cautious. “I had a dream about you.” You eventually mumbled.

“What was it about?”

You swallowed thickly as you contemplated the answer. “In the dream, I was with Leigh and you… You were there with someone else.” You admitted. Honestly was something you valued with Wanda and she deserved to know.

“Oh.”

There was disappointment in her voice and you could feel the distance between you grow. That was the last thing you wanted. You wanted her to pull you closer. Always closer.

Desperately you changed the subject after several minutes of unbearable silence. “Wanda?” She hummed in response. “Why do you love me?”

“Well… because you’re a bad dancer.” She began teasingly, her voice still thick with sleep. You huffed and opened your mouth to respond until she continued. “Because you’re an over-thinker… but not in a bad way. You over-think when you care... Because of how you repeat the words under your breath when you read… Because you’re complicated.”

A soft chuckle fell from your lips. “I think that’s an understatement.”

Her eyes fluttered slightly, and a small smile spread across her lips. The sight took your breath away. “And also… because I always thought I was impossible to love… Then you came around and made it look so… easy.”

You smiled slightly back at her, your heart thudding in your chest. “It is easy.”

The only response you received was a small smile in return as you watched her eyes slowly close through the screen. You still hadn’t said the words that were on the tip of your tongue. Even if you wanted to. You couldn’t. Not until you could tell her it was only her.

The steady rise and fall of her breathing slowly lulled you to sleep.

Maybe love wasn’t always lightning bolts. Maybe sometimes it was a blooming flower. Growing slowly and steadily until suddenly it was all there was in the world… And Wanda was.

She was all there was in your world.

When you opened your eyes the following morning, you were greeted by the sight of Wanda still on the screen before you. Her face was free from any tension as she continued to dream soundlessly. You didn’t have the heart to wake her.

Slowly picking up the phone, you whispered. “Sleep tight, Wanda.”

As you were preparing to hang up, a sleepy groan filled the serene morning air. “Where are you going?”

“There’s something I need to do.” You told her somberly.

Still half-asleep, Wanda turned and mumbled, “Hurry back to me.”

Your lips quirked up slightly at the familiar saying. “As fast as I can.” You whispered back to her before ending the call. There would be no more avoiding it. You knew what you needed to do.

With unsteady fingers you began to type the message that you dreaded. The unsteady path of your heart had never felt more treacherous.

_____________

The closer you got to the destination, the more your heart ached. You could feel it splintering with the loss of something you hadn’t even said goodbye to yet. The loss of something that had never been yours but had been all that you were for so long. The loss of the foundation that was all you loved and how you learned to love.

The chase and the ache.

With a heavy sigh, you opened the door. After you found a secluded table in the corner of the familiar café you were greeted by the sight of the woman you had spent the majority of your life thinking was the beginning and end of love for you.

You never would have thought that your heart was capable of more.

“Y/n.” She greeted with a hesitant smile. She was nervous. The sight alone made your stomach turn in agony. “I thought we would be meeting at the spot later today.”

There was hope in her voice and you hated that you might dimish that.

You licked your lips and pretended to not notice the way her eyes were drawn to the action. “Can we talk?”

Her smile fell, and she shut her eyes. “Do we really need to?”

“I think it’s best we do, Leigh.” Wordlessly, she gestured for you to go on. Your vision became blurry with unshed tears as you struggled to push through. “Leigh, I love you-”

“Then why are you doing this?” She asked quietly, tears glistening in her eyes.

Your heart thudded at the sight. You never wanted to hurt her. You came back to help her, not cause her more pain. There was no better way to do this though.

The truth would hurt but you knew lying would hurt her more.

With a shaky breath you continued. “I’m not in love with you anymore. I can’t-… I can’t let you wait around for something that I’m not capable of feeling again. It’s just… When I think of Wanda… I’m home.”

Her lip quivered. “Did you ever see that with me?” You bit your lip in hesitation. “It's okay... I want to know.”

A sigh fell from your lips as your gaze fell to the floor. “Even on our best days I couldn’t.” Leigh took a shaky breath. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still think about you. That your voice didn’t echo in my chest and your fingerprints weren’t stamped all over my heart… I just think we never got it right. And maybe that was the universe telling us that maybe it wasn’t us.”

“What if we ignore what the universe is saying? What if I want it to be us anyway?” Her words were small. A stark contrast to the self-reliant woman you knew she was. You hated that you reduced her to this.

Your eyes clenched shut in anguish. “Leigh… You deserve happiness. You deserve all the little moments of joy that life has to offer... You deserve everything you told yourself you didn’t deserve and so much more… I can’t give you that. Not when I’m in love with her.”

“Why her?” She asked, and you looked up to meet her pleading eyes.

The answer rolled off your tongue with ease. You didn’t need to think about why you loved Wanda when the list was endless. “I was running for so long that I never thought anyone would catch me. I never thought I’d even be able to catch myself again… Then I let her find me and it felt like everything fell into place with her. I stopped feeling so lost… It’s like the thing I didn’t know I was searching for found me and suddenly everything made sense again.”

“That’s how I feel about you.” You could hear her whisper brokenly over the heavy sound of silence. Sometimes silence was so much loud than any words could be.

Unsteadily you reached across the table and took her hands in your own, the feeling of her skin against yours was comforting, but it didn’t set you ablaze like it used to. “I’m always going to love you, Leigh, even if it’s not the way you want me to.” You began quietly, your thumb stroking a soothing pattern along the back of her hand. “We weren’t meant for each other and I think that was something we both knew… But that never stopped you from loving me and it sure as hell never stopped me from loving you.”

Tears fell down Leigh’s cheeks and you could feel a hot trail of tears on your own cheeks. “Kiss me.” She whispered.

“What?”

Her lips turned up sadly. “Kiss me goodbye.”

“It doesn’t have to be goodbye.” You replied quietly, your mind flashing to the night of her wedding.

Your eyes fixated on the way her lower lips quivered as she worked desperately to maintain her smile. “It does. Kiss me goodbye.” She repeated. You stared back at her with parted lips, the words stolen from your chest because even though you knew it was going to hurt, you still couldn’t have prepared yourself. “Goodbye because I love you.”

Gently you released her hands and leaned across the table, your palms sliding against her cheeks until they rested on the back of her neck as you slowly pulled her closer. The pull was slow as you both waited with bated breath for your lips to connect.

When your lips finally met, you could feel Leigh tangle her hands into your hair and press herself as close as she possibly could with the table in between you. Your lips fell into a familiar dance as you allowed yourself to get lost in the moment. To get lost in one final embrace.

It was the end of something monumental but the start of something beautiful.

After several minutes you finally pulled away, you allowed your eyes to remain closed for a moment and relish the finality of it all. When your eyes opened once again, you were met with the sight of familiar green eyes turning away from you over Leigh’s shoulder. Your blood ran cold.

“Wanda.” You whispered as you saw her disappear around the corner.

Leigh’s hand on your face gently redirected your attention. “What?”

“Wanda saw.” You mumbled, already standing up to chase after her. “I have to explain.”

As you were leaving, Leigh caught your hand and you turned to face her. Meeting her heartbroken expression made your chest clench. “I'll still look for you. Even in places I know you’ve never been... And I’ll miss you without saying a word. Goodbye, Y/n.”

Your world slowed down as you watched her heartbreak in front of you. No words would suffice. No words could make the situation better as you slowly released her hand and let her walk away. Watching the way, she disappeared to the left of the café. In the opposite direction as Wanda. How poetic.

Though life was easier when you finally knew what you felt. You followed the path to the right. You followed the path of your heart.

________________

Despite following after Wanda minutes after she left, the woman vanished without a trace. Quite literally vanished. Her phone went to voicemail and her apartment was vacant. The fear that bubbled in your chest made it almost impossible to function because all she had seen was you kissing Leigh. She didn’t hear you tell Leigh you were in love with her. She didn’t hear you tell Leigh goodbye. All she knew was that you kissed Leigh after dreaming of her the night before.

You knew there was one other place that she could be and that involved a trip across the country. Wanda was worth it though. She needed to know it was her. It would always be her.

With steely resolve, you drove to the airport and booked the first flight to New York, taking only the clothes on your back.

_______________

The sight of the Avengers tower looming over you was a daunting sight and it took all your willpower to step into the building and approach the front desk.

A large man dressed in all black was sat at the desk that was in front of the elevators. You hesitantly made your way over to him, trying not to wince at how much bigger the man was compared to you when you were face-to-face.

“Um. Hello.” The man continued looking at the screen of the computer before him as if you didn't exist. “I’m here to see Wanda Maximoff. Is she here?” The man grunted in amusement.

You shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot as the man continued to ignore your existence. “I’ll give you another thirty seconds before I forcibly remove you from my building.” He mumbled distractedly.

“I’m pretty sure the building belongs to Tony Stark.” You mumbled sarcastically, wincing when the man glared at you angrily. “I just need to see Wanda Maximoff.”

He stood up from behind the desk menacingly. “And I need you to get the hell out of my lobby.”

“I-I’m dating Wanda Maximoff!” You exclaimed. Were you? You hoped you could still say that at least.

He sneered down at you. “Yeah and I’m Natasha Romanoff’s husband. You’re not fooling anyone kid.”

When he made his way around the desk, he towered over you threateningly. “I just need to talk to her!” You explained anxiously.

“Yeah and I just need to take Black Widow on a date.” He began pushing you back by the shoulder, clenching his jaw when you refused to move. “Get the hell out of here!” He stated as he picked you up and began walking you towards the doors.

Out of desperation you began squirming in his arms, your hand slipping as you were desperately trying to slip out of his grasp. The slip caused you to punch the man in the lip.

Your eyes widened when you saw the blood trickle down from the split you had created. He dropped you and you sprawled out on the floor, glancing up at him fearfully. “Sir, I’m so sorry. I just need to-”

The man angrily wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand. “I don’t care what you need. I’ve lost my patience.” The man pinned your arm to your back and twisted, your face pressing into the floor from the force of it all. “All this could have been avoided if you just listened the first time.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

From your position on the floor, your eyes met Wanda’s whose eyes were practically glowing in fury. The eye contact was broken when the man twisted more and pressed your face further into the cool tile of the lobby. A small yelp of pain fell from your lips as you could feel the bone in your forearm bend in ways it shouldn’t.

“Just taking out the trash Miss. Maximoff.” The man said smugly, and you couldn’t even see her reaction from the tears that were clouding your vision from the physical pain.

“Let go of her.” Wanda warned darkly. The man just twisted more in response and you were sure you something was about to snap as you yelled out in pain. “I said let go of her!” Before you knew it the weight that was bending your arm was removed and you heard something crash into one of the walls.

You rolled over on your back, panting from the pain as you cradled your arm. Your vision was blurry as you blinked to attempt to focus on the world around you again and not on the pain in your arm.

Before you knew it, Wanda was swimming in your vision as she cupped your cheeks worriedly. “Are you okay?”

Suddenly the pain was the last thing on your mind as you looked up at her. “Wanda, I need to talk to you.” You huffed out through pained gasps.

“Y/n, your arm might be broken! That is not priority right now.”

You shook your head. “It is priority, Wanda! I don’t care about my arm! I just need to talk to you.”

Wanda sighed. “Okay. But only after you let Bruce tend to your arm.” You heaved out a defeated breath and nodded. Wanda carefully helped you up and your heart fluttered when she wrapped an arm protectively around you.

As she began leading you to the elevators, you heard the man groan in discomfort. Wanda’s eyes began to glow and your own widened slightly in surprise. You watched as red energy drifted from her fingers and wrapped around the man before she tossed him into the opposite wall.

“If you ever set foot in this building again I'll make sure it's the last step you take.” Wanda warned with a point of her finger, her accent thick. Your mouth went dry at the sight. Hot, you thought to yourself.

After an hour of being examined by Bruce Banner, your arm was wrapped in soft cast and you were sent off. You were still processing the fact that the Hulk just tended to you as Wanda led you to her room. The ride up the elevator was tense with silence. You just wanted to tell her everything, but you wanted to tell her the right way. Not blurt it out in an elevator.

When you finally made it to the safety of her room, you took her hand, frowning when she lightly took her hand back. “Wanda. What you saw…” Her gaze fell to the floor. “It wasn’t what it seemed.”

“It seemed like you were kissing Leigh.” She mumbled.

You began fidgeting with your fingers. “Okay, maybe it was what it seemed… But it wasn’t like that. I-I… With Leigh… It was…” The words tumbled from your lips awkwardly as you desperately tried to express the contents of your heart. You needed her to listen, but you couldn't seem to find the right words.

Wanda sighed. “You don’t have to explain to me, Y/n. And you certainly didn’t have to fly all the way to New York to do this. I get it.”

“I didn’t know that it was possible to survive a heartbreak like that… To move on.” You said suddenly, not even allowing your mind time to process anymore. Wanda's eyes widened in surprise at the shift. “And I think it echoed in my heart even when I didn’t want it to anymore... Making a full recovery was never in the plans, Wanda. Even if I never said it out loud.”

Wanda’s gaze fell again, the sleeves on her jacket stretched from the way she had been anxiously pulling on them. “Y/n, it’s okay.” She turned, and you could feel your heart break. The shattered pieces calling out to her. “Maybe you should go.”

Before she was out of reach you caught her hand, reveling in the feeling of love that burst in your chest from even the slightest contact. She turned back to you but refused to meet your eyes. You resented yourself for what you had done to her.

“I thought the ache would linger forever, Wanda.” You continued, taking a sharp breath. “I didn’t know I’d ever be capable of loving someone again… Only so much deeper. Deeper than I even thought possible.”

You could see the way she stopped breathing for a moment, as if she wasn’t sure how serious you were. “What does that-”

“It was that smile… The first time I saw it, I knew I wanted to see it for the rest of my life.” You softly tugged her closer. “It was never a question, Wanda… I was just too scared to let go. To step into the daylight when I had spent so long being comfortable in the dark.”

Her eyes watered, and you felt panic begin to rise in your throat because maybe you waited too long. Maybe she realized that it wasn’t worth waiting for you to finally see what she had known all along. Maybe she was tired of waiting for you to realize how stupid you would be to walk away from something so pure. To realize how stupid, you were to think even for a moment that she wasn’t the actual love of your-

Your brain short circuited when she placed her hands on the back of your neck and pulled you into her lips. You sighed contently against her as your mind finally slowed down enough to allow yourself to bask in the warmth of her love.

Your mind – your heart – seemed to only be capable of functioning around her.

Without hesitation, your arms wrapped around her waist tightly and pulled her as close as you possibly could. You gave yourself over to her entirely. You had never wanted anyone like this before.

All you wanted to know was Wanda. All you wanted to see was Wanda. All you wanted to love was Wanda. She was… everything.

With the fog finally lifted you could see that your heart had belonged to her since the moment she sat across from you in that café and there would have been no coming back. Letting her walk away would have been the greatest regret of your life.

Wanda was home.

When you finally pulled away you couldn’t help the goofy smile that spread across your lips. Wanda smiled back at you and your heart ached in the best way possible. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”

“It’s just all so clear now. You’re daylight. I don’t need anything else now that I have you.” The way her eyes twinkled made your smile widen. “I love you.”

Wanda just stared at you for a moment, her eyes shining so bright they rivaled the morning sun. The sight made your heart flutter happily against your rib cage. “You said it.” She breathed out quietly.

Your stomach flipped at her words. “It was long overdue.” Your palm raised to slid tenderly over her cheek. “I love you. I am so, so… so in love with you, Wanda Maximoff.”

The sound of her breath hitching filled the quiet room. “Say it again.”

You smiled. “I love you, I love you, I love y-”

As the phrase was falling from your lips, your words were interrupted by the woman before you. “I love you, too.” A breathless laugh fell from her lips. “I’ve been waiting to hear those words. To know that you love me back. To know that you feel the way I do.”

You lightly pressed your forehead against hers. “I may have gotten a little lost along the way, but I’ve found my way home.”

Wanda lips turned up slightly in a confused smirk. “You’ve been home.”

“No, I haven’t.” You licked your lips. “Home is your eyes looking back at me, home is the way your nose scrunches when you're happy, home is the way you laugh. Home is waking up in your arms every morning. Home is wherever you are… You are home to me, Wanda.”

“Y/n…” She whispered, her hands bunching into the front of your shirt.

You rested your forehead against hers. “Loving you was always easy. Even when it shouldn’t have been. And I know it will always be easy to love you, no matter what. You are my home, Wanda Maximoff. And you are my heart.”

Wanda leaped into your arms and you stumbled back slightly as she connected her lips to your and your heart exploded. The only life worth living would be a life you spent with Wanda.

Thankfully, that was exactly the life you ended up living.

Surprise, Team Wanda! An alternate ending to hopefully easy the damage I caused to your hearts last week. This was always in the plans because I knew I couldn't hurt you guys. I just wanted the true ending to have it's moment. So Leigh's ending is the ending, but if you're team Wanda... You can pretend it's this one instead. Huge shoutout to @mionemymind for helping me out of my writer's block and encouraging me! and @abimess for the constant motivation!

I hope you all enjoyed! Would love to hear your thoughts and comments as they are always welcome. :)

Tag List: @khiaraaa-in-spacee // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @halobaby // @madamevirgo // @aimezvousbrahms // @trikruismybitch // @marvels-writings // @izalesbean // @imdreamingblo // @i-choose-you-cyndaquil // @helloalycia // @scarlets-maximoff // @cantcontroltheirfear // @women-am-i-right // @funnysoldier // @myfavoriteficss // @imapotatao // @imagine-reblog // @blackxwidowsxwife // @purplemeetsblue // @cristin-rjd // @ravens-ss // @legaypandaboi // @myperfectlovepoem // @diaryoflife // @stupidsapphicsstuff // @ouat2017 // @abimess // @wellsayhelloaagin

[five-rivers]

Changeling Chapter 1

A DP Fae Au fic. I've been promising you this for so long XD. I can hardly believe I'm finally delivering, even if it's only one chapter for now.

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Chapter 1: In the Beginning, There Was an Offer

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They studied legends. According to those legends, today, Beltane, was a time of renewal, of birth, of fertility.

It was not supposed to be… this. Their dreams weren’t supposed to be crushed today. Not under this sun, not under these blue skies and among softly blooming flowers.

This kind of news should have come with rain. It should have come with storms.

Maddie wiped tears out of her eyes and Jack patted her on the back. The air smelled sweet and dusty at the same time. The bench was uncomfortable.

“We could try adoption,” said Jack. He sounded shocked, too. Drained. His voice was pulled taught over a great hollowness. “Lots of people adopt. We can- can do some good in the world, maybe.”

Maddie sniffed and cried harder. She’d wanted her own children, and Jack knew it. Adoption was all very well and good, but at this point the suggestion felt like some consolation prize, and she felt terrible for even thinking it was, because Jack was right, it could be a good thing, and…

She wanted children. Her own children.

“Excuse me, I believe I can help.”

There was something about how he said that, about how the voice wound and slipped through her ears that had Maddie’s head snapping up. The man who stood to the side of the bench wore a long coat with a deep hood. Symbols, symbols that Maddie had spent hours, days, weeks, researching were stitched into the fabric. His eyes glittered in the shadows. The fingers of his hands, clasped in front of him, were too long, their coloring faintly lavender, as if they had been dipped in ink and retained the stain even after they’d been washed clean.

This was not a human.

“How?” asked Maddie, feeling hope drip back into her limbs even as Jack tensed behind her. “How can you help?”

.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” said Jack as they drove home. “We really shouldn’t have done that. Maddie, they’re evil, there’s always a catch and it’ll always be looking for a way to push us into it.”

“The catch is in the open,” said Maddie, leaning back against the seat of the car and closing her eyes. “It isn’t as if it’s in the fine print and we’re going to stumble into it. We have one, and then I get my tubes tied, or you get snipped, and we go on with our lives.”

“What if we have twins? Triplets? Maddie, we should have talked about this.”

“There wasn’t any time,” Maddie said defensively. “I had to decide right away.”

“What are we going to do if we have twins, Maddie?”

Maddie bit her lip, her eyes opening without her full permission as she thought. “We know how to deal with things like him.”

The car jerked just a little to the right as Jack failed to suppress his flinch. “Do you remember our work on motivations? On why they take artists, musicians, children?” he asked. He forged on without waiting for an answer. “Creative sterility, we called it. For this one to be able to cure sterility, he has to be powerful. I don’t think nails in pockets and inside-out clothing is going to stop him.”

Such protections were hit and miss to begin with. One faerie might hate bread, another might love it. The sound of bells would drive off one, and another would wear them in their hair. Even cold iron was no guarantee against them.

“We’ll have to find something better, then,” she said, firmly.

.

Maddie laughed. Not a twin. A single child showed on the ultrasound monitor. A girl. A beautiful baby girl. Perfect.

On the other side of the bed, Jack sunk into a chair, obviously relieved. “She’s healthy?” he asked the OB/GYN.

“Completely,” she said. “This is quite the miracle the two of you put together here.” She shook her head. “We must have gotten something wrong during our examination. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am to have put you through all that, and I won’t blame you if you wanted to find a new doctor.”

“It’s fine,” said Maddie, patting the woman’s arm. “It happens.” Yes, being approached by a powerful fae just ‘happened.’ “The important thing now is to make sure there aren’t any complications.”

.

They made sure Jazz was born on a Sunday, with two middle names, one of which Maddie made sure to forget. They scheduled her baptism for as early a date as possible, even though both Jack and Maddie were as lapsed as it was possible to be.

Precautions.

Jack had his surgery only a month later.

They were safe. They had won.

The family of three snuggled together on the couch. Well, Jazz snuggled inasmuch as a newborn was able. They watched TV.

“Jack, dear,” said Maddie, roused to awareness by a news story about a rising young businessman. “Is that our Vlad?”

Jack blinked at the screen. “I think you’re right,” said Jack. “I haven’t seen him since college. I don’t think we’ve talked to him since college.” He frowned. “Did something happen? The three of us used to be so close… He was the only one in the whole folklore department that would put up with our theories, do you remember?”

“I don’t know,” said Maddie, trying to remember. “It was like he was there one day, gone the next.”

“Do you think he’ll mind us getting back in touch?”

“Only one way to find out.”

.

(As it turned out, Vlad did not particularly care to get back in touch.)

.

Jazz was not a normal child.

She saw too much. She understood too much. Her teeth grew in early. She learned how to get the milk out of the fridge at about the same time she learned how to walk. Her eyes were too large, even for her age. She didn’t start talking until she was almost two, and when she did, it was in complete sentences. She took to responsibility like a duck to water. No, she demanded responsibility, from waking up the family in the morning to answering the door. She loved rules and games, and the rules of games.

But they had never raised a child before. Perhaps this was simply how they were. Perhaps this was within the expected variety of humanity.

Most importantly, Jazz was theirs. Completely.

.

Maddie was not terribly concerned when her period missed a few days, or even when it was late by a week. But when it started pushing two…

She bought a test.

It came back positive.

.

Danny’s birth was different from Jazz’s in almost every particular. Instead of being infused with a sense of joy, proceedings were overshadowed by dread. Jazz had been born in a hospital. Danny would be born at home, behind every ward and protection Jack and Maddie could conceive of. The midwife they hired was more than used to odd belief systems and threw a few of her own traditions in as well.

It couldn’t hurt.

.

It didn’t help.

After the birth, Maddie held Danny in her arms. He’d been born in a caul, which had been slightly alarming, even though Maddie had known that it was a thing that happened regularly, and that, by most accounts, it was lucky.

He was such a tiny little thing. Smaller than Jazz. Which made sense, he was a little premature.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” she promised him, whispering into the silky, wispy curls on top of his head.

Someone knocked on the door. Maddie jerked her head up, even though the front door wasn’t at all visible from the basement. Jack flinched hard enough to drop the towels he was holding. The midwife froze.

“Hospitality,” croaked Maddie. Those rules were always humanity’s first defense against the uncanny. Don’t want something in your house? In your life? Don’t invite it in.

Although, she had arguably already invited in the fae they were worried about. Hence all the other contingencies.

The knock came again. And again, louder.

Jack let out a sigh of relief. “It can’t get in,” he murmured. Then he smiled, broad and bright. “We just have to wait it out.”

Maddie nodded, tears in her eyes. The knocking continued. This was far from ideal, obviously, but she’d been half expecting the fae to simply rip through the wards like tissue paper.

Perhaps the theory that more powerful fae were more bound by custom, more vulnerable to their weaknesses, held water? She and Jack had always dismissed it as fanciful, but they’d never been able to gather evidence before.

Then, a sound that made her heart stop.

“I’ll get it!” called Jazz, childish voice muffled by distance and the obstacle of the floors above. She’d been told not to answer the door when Danny was being born, to wait patiently in her room, but for all her unusual maturity, she was only three.

Faster than she’d ever seen him move, Jack bolted for the stairs, pushing aside several pieces of furniture and medical equipment in his haste. He took the stairs four at a time and nearly taking the door off the hinges.

He wasn’t fast enough.

“Who are you, mister?”

“Me?” said a voice Maddie had prayed against ever hearing again. “I am your uncle, my dear. Did your parents not tell you about me?”

.

Jazz tipped her head to one side and stared up at the man, making her eyes extra big. She knew it made a lot of people uncomfortable when she looked at them like that, so she treated it as a kind of test.

The man smiled, kind and patient. He was kind of funny looking, but in a good way.

“No,” she said finally. “Are you Mommy’s brother or Daddy’s brother?”

“Ah, you already know about uncles, then. I was worried I’d have to explain. May I come in? I would like to greet your little brother, as your parents promised I could. I have gifts for both of you.”

Jazz liked gifts. “Okay,” she said. “But I dunno if Danny’s been born yet. Mommy said it can take a while. And I dunno if he can have gifts, yet. He’s gonna be really little. That’s what all my books say, and also the internet.”

“Jazz! Don’t!”

Jazz turned to see her Daddy skid around the corner, just as her uncle stepped across the threshold.

“Not quite on time, I fear,” said uncle. “Young Jazz has already let me in.” He patted Jazz on the head. She ducked away and stuck her tongue out, like she always did when Daddy did that. “Having greeted my niece, I would like to see my nephew.”

.

The fae did walk past the rest of the wards as if they weren’t even there. It didn’t even break them, just ignored them. Some of them he even commented on, as if approving.

He gazed down at Danny with his otherworldly eyes. The midwife had retreated to the corner of the room, refusing to look at what was happening. Jack had attempted to attack the fae with his bare hands, only to be pushed away with something approaching gentleness by an invisible wall. Maddie didn’t know where Jazz was. Upstairs, somewhere, hopefully.

“So beautiful,” the fae said, brushing Danny’s forehead with his off-color fingers. Faster than Maddie could react, he had a pair of scissors in his hand and was cutting off a lock of hair. “A lovely child.” The lock of Danny’s hair disappeared into the fae’s coat.

If Maddie didn’t know better, she’d call the expression on the fae’s face love. But she did know better. Love was as incomprehensible to the fae as fae laws were to humans, so she’d call it by its true name: avarice.

She tightened her grip on Danny, as if she could keep the fae from plucking him from her arms.

“Not now,” said the fae, after another moment. “Soon, I should think.” It ran a hand over Danny’s head. “Soon.” The fae looked up, meeting Maddie’s eyes. “I will return,” he said, “in one year.”

“For what?” demanded Maddie, unwilling to get her hopes up.

The fae blinked slowly. “For his birthday.” He tilted his head. “To determine whether or not he is ready. Perhaps, also, to visit my niece.”

“You stay away from Jazz!” snarled Maddie. “You have no claim on her.”

The fae merely shrugged, then smiled, slyly. “She does, however, have a claim on me. I promised her gifts, before your husband whisked her away.”

“Gifts,” repeated Maddie, hoarsely.

“For the sister of my child, yes,” said the fae, voice and face as calm and even as ever. “Would you ask me to forswear myself?”

“Then,” said Maddie, “you can leave them here, with us.”

“You will give them to her?”

“Yes,” said Maddie, through her teeth. She did not say how long she would let Jazz be in the presence of these ‘gifts.’

“Very well, then,” said the fae, pulling a number of boxes out from beneath his coat. “One year. Be prepared.”

And, with that, the fae faded from view, as if he had been an illusion all along.

Danny was still with them. Their son was still with them. Still theirs.

“One year,” she said, breathless. “Only one year.”

“One whole year,” corrected Jack, rushing to her side. “You’ll see, Maddie. Next time, that fae won’t know what hit him!”

“One whole year,” echoed Maddie, weakly.

“One year to prepare,” said Jack. “Look what we did with half that time! We’re Fentons! We can do it!”

“We can do it,” breathed Maddie. “One year. We’ll be ready.”

Jack nodded, firmly. “We’ll be ready.”

[rosieofcorona]

In the Blue Morning

BELOVEDS, a soft little Solavellan fic for you. Mostly fluff this time around to soothe the eternal, unyielding hurt. Also on AO3, if you prefer. As always, thank you for reading. 💕

She cajoles him, some mornings, away from his office, from his maps and his books and his paintings and out among the newly-planted gardens, all their tight, unfurling blooms. 

It’s always empty at this hour, when most of Skyhold is still asleep save for the guards in their high towers, the recruits in the practice yard. The only sound is the clang of their swords ringing through the mist like distant bells, the only light the pink and gold of the nascent sun.

They have been careful, desperately careful not to draw undue attention, not to generate rumors that could harm the Inquisition in the future. It is easier on the road to find a quiet moment alone– to steal a kiss or hold a hand or put words to their love– but the castle, however safe, is full of eyes, forever watching.

It is only in the narrow, muted hours before dawn that Solas weaves his fingers with hers as they orbit the courtyard, side by side.

He names the blossoms as they pass, first in the trade tongue and then in Elvish, the softened syllables like music on his tongue. She repeats them half as gracefully, but he smiles at every attempt, correcting her gently now and again, praising her efforts.

“Gail’lealis,” he says, pointing out an elegant bellflower, its blue-white petals bundled tightly in green sepals.

It sounds off, even to her ear, when she says, “Ga’lealis,” back.

They pause for a moment, and Solas turns and bends and plucks an early bloom from the same plant, rotating it slowly between his fingers, holding it up for examination. 

“Ga-il,” he repeats softly, separating the sounds. “Meaning ‘bell,’ in the common parlance.” 

“Ga-il,” she says again, correctly this time. 

“Followed by lealis, meaning ‘glass.’”

“Gail’lealis.”

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, tucking the flower behind her ear, the meaning vague yet all-encompassing. It is all beautiful– the morning, the garden, how she catches the light, his ancient language in her mouth, her mouth– 

Solas kisses her in the empty courtyard, parts her lips with a linguist’s tongue, and she kisses him back again and again as if each time might be the last. He wants to stay like this forever, wants the sun to forget to rise, wants the castle to sleep and sleep in an endless dream.

But the light keeps coming, every moment. The castle will wake, and they will see. 

And this will cost them, in the end. 

She is pink as the sky when they finally come apart, and continue their long walk around. 

“I hear you were out here yesterday,” she says, breaking the silence as they turn a corner. “Cullen says you beat him soundly at chess.” 

“It was a closer game than he thinks,” Solas says, but she has learned when he’s just being modest.

“Must not have been that close, because Bull says the same. As do Blackwall, and Varric, and Dorian, though he swears that you cheated.”  “I did no such thing!” 

When they turn again, the chessboard in question comes into full view, set and waiting on its table beneath an awning. 

“He seemed very certain,” she shrugs. “Though I suppose I could find out for myself.”

They stop again before the table, and Solas looks at her intently.  “Is that a challenge, dear Inquisitor?”

“That depends on your level of skill.”

She’s teasing him now, enticing him, a dynamic he’s come to enjoy. There are so few who impress him with thoughtfulness, who make him work at being clever.

“Very well, but you should know that I am merciless,” he warns, a contradiction to the chivalry of pulling out her chair. “Even to one I love.”

He takes the seat opposite her, the board and the pieces adorned in glittering dew. 

“I believe the Lady Inquisitor moves first.”

**********

He sets a dozen little traps for her, a dozen clever gambits, and she evades them every time, to his astonishment. Where he moves to attack, she counters; where he baits her, she defends or retreats. By the end, with the sun fully risen overhead, they reach a deadlock, both depleted, neither victorious.

“Again?” She asks cheerfully, when they’ve finished. Already she is freeing her captives from his end of the table. “Don’t look so stunned, my love. Unless you’re trying to offend me.”

“Forgive me, vhenan,” he says, shaking his head. “You surprise me as always. It is rare to find an opponent so…discerning.” 

His beloved laughs with the morning breeze, a sound like air that surrounds and envelops him. 

“Rare to find one you can’t beat, you mean.” 

She’s right, of course– it is rare that he loses, even rarer that he plays against someone so evenly matched. He still can’t quite puzzle through it, where he went wrong, where she figured him out. 

He had gotten a lead on her early on, or so he thought– he had taken a tower, a mage, and two pawns– and left his queen open for the taking, which she had entirely ignored. She caught onto him quickly, though too late to win, and when she realized she couldn’t beat him, she had blocked him instead. 

Solas leans thoughtfully back in his chair, replaying their game in his mind. No matter how he tries to beat her, he finds no way through. She sees his scheming, sees him coming, cuts him off. 

“Why did you not take my queen, given the chance?”

“Because you gave me the chance,” she reasons. “You wouldn’t do that except to win.” 

“It could have been a tactical error.”  “It wasn’t,” she says assuredly, resetting the pieces along their battle lines. “If I had taken her, it would have left my king undefended from your mages.”  “You could have moved him.”  “For a turn or two. Then your knight would have circled back. Isn’t that right?” She looks up at Solas, her eyes smiling and sharp, affirmed in her answer already. “Or shall we call that a ‘tactical error?’”

“Mm,” Solas nods his approval. “You’ve become quite the strategist. Have you been spending time with our Commander?”

“I’ve been spending time with you,” she counters. “Learning all your little tricks.”

Not all, it occurs to him, but Solas smothers the thought with a laugh. “It seems to me you have a few of your own.” 

“Our Keeper used to call me harellan,” she tells him. “Trickster. Though I needn’t explain that to you.”

He fights to keep the easy expression on his face, feeling suddenly caught in the snare of her gaze, as if she sees directly through him, sees him fully, all he is.

Harellan, his mind echoes. How could she know?

The wait for her judgment feels infinite, inevitable– but it does not come, and does not come, and does not come. She only moves a white pawn toward the board’s center, the leaves rustling softly around them. 

No, he decides. She does not know. She only means he knows the word. 

Solas mirrors her opening move, their pawns face to face on the battlefield. “And still, your Keeper named you her First.” 

“I was more troublesome as a child,” she says, with a grin that implies that the mischief has never left her. “I’ve settled down a great deal since. Can’t you tell?”

This time, when Solas laughs, there is nothing else hiding beneath it. No uneasy feeling, no great fear that she will discover him, cast him out. There is only happiness for a moment, the war reduced to a board between them, as if sorrow and death are nowhere, and the end of the world is far away.

[honey-milk-depresso]

The Wild and The Quiet (Floyd Leech x Kuudere Reader)

Part 1 : How You caught feelings in your fishing net.

“Koebi chan~~~!”

“...hi, Floyd..”

“Where are you going???”

“...back to Ramshackle..”

“Ehh??~ Can I come~?”

“...fine...”

It was quite funny to see the two of you interact. You and Floyd were complete polar opposites of each other, where Floyd is that wild, rambunctious and certainly loud student, you were the much calmer, shy (or seemingly emotionless-) and quiet student.

Well, you know what they say, opposites do attract.

How Floyd even got attached to you was a mystery even to yourself.

You had no idea how he even started clinging and conversing with you everyday at every hour. You didn’t try to bath in the limelight, well, accept you possessing no magic. But that certainly wouldn’t attract anybody, right? There’s nothing spectacular about that. In fact, that would have sounded lame and boring to anyone’s ears, so certainly Floyd wouldn’t be interested in something “boring”, right? Well....

Floyd at first, for the most part, scared you like any other student would be scared of Floyd. He was tall and intimidating, his attitude is very unexpected, at one point he’s smiling and another his face darkens and your met with his fist. You never know, and that’s what scared you sometimes.

But, you never showed that fear. Towards him. Towards anyone. Something in you had always made you tell yourself: “Don’t show them how vulnerable you are.”

Over time, you got used to the large, rambunctious mer-eel’s shenanigans. And over time, you secretly enjoyed his company. You just thought of it as him always treating his friends like this. Although, you would admit, you wanted your relationship with him to grow a little further.

Stepping into the Ramshackle dorm, you made way for Floyd to come in to which he sloppily went in before making himself comfortable on your couch.

You put down your bag and took out your notes and homework, before heading to the coffee table, where Floyd rested on the couch behind it to do your work. Floyd stared at you lazily as you scribbled away formulas and answers.

“...You don’t have work to do?”

“Eh~~ I can do it later.”

“...You should do it now.”

“Huh~~~? I don’t feel like it..”

You stopped writing and glance back at him, he closes his eyes as he wore a relaxed expression on his features. You hesitated a little, eyes averting away from him for a few seconds before turning away from him again.

“.......Want to do homework with me...?”

His eyes shot opened and widened. This was one of the rare moments where you offer him to do something with you. It’s usually him who forces offer you to do something with him, but it seems the tables have turned. He smiled a toothy grin before standing up and bending low where he rested his chin on your shoulders.

“Ehehehe~! Why didn’t you say so!”

Just went he placed his chin on your shoulders, you swore you shivered a little due to the skin sudden cold feeling of his skin. Of course, you showed no sign of being affected, and just shifted more to the left sub consciously.

Floyd came back with his own homework and writing materials, but rather than sitting opposite from you, he sat beside you on your right, which made both your elbows rub in contact of each other, making it even harder for you to focus on your work as your flustered emotions continued rising inside of you, harder to contain.

Floyd was simply oblivious and in his own bliss of being able to do something together with you and did his work.

A few moments of him being halfway distracted and started talking to you, to which you asked him to go back to his own paper continuously, you finished your second to last worksheet. All that’s left is the alchemy worksheet Professor Crewel has given you today, which was assigned tomorrow. Obviously do it now, who wants to be discipline by the strictest professor around.

You took it out of your file and.... it’s crumpled, almost life it was bleached, as the ink prints were faded and smudged. Words were written all over it: Loser, weirdo, bitch.. a bunch of nasty nicknames which you admitted kind of put you down. 

You should’ve known. Those Savanaclaw delinquents and their constant bullying towards you. Jack had to always chase them away for you, but he doesn’t take the same Alchemy class as you did. Those Savanclaw students did on purpose so that you would be scolded by Professor Crewel for having a toilet paper of a worksheet. Great, now you have to ask Deuce or Ace. Grim certainly can’t help.

“Hmmmm~? Is koebi chan spacing out? I though you told me to focus, now it’s my turn~!”

He tried snatching the crumpled and vandalized worksheet out of your hand, but you immediately caught it before he could even view it to his face.

Truthfully, you didn’t want him to see it as you felt like you would look stupid in front of him. When it comes to being bullied, you rather hide it than tell anyone about it. That feeling of hiding it made you turn on your instincts and told you to take it back, hoping that Floyd would just let go.

Yeah, those chances of him letting go of something unknown to him were a chances of slim to nothing.

He held on and tried pulling it out of your grip, and he proved to be much stronger than you, easily getting the worksheet.

He faced away from you as you only crouched back, a little nervous of the outcome. 

“....Who did this, y/n...?”

You gulped internally. You had never heard him in such a low, threatening tone. And it’s been quite a while since you heard him call you by your real name.

“Nothing.”

“Koebi. Tell me. Now.”

“I really don’t know.”

Floyd isn’t stupid, and you know. He knows when something’s up, and he would be very persistent in figuring out the situation. It’s his job together with Jade. So why bother denying to him?

“....”

“.....”

“Why do you care?”

Ouch. You didn’t mean to sound harsh towards him. 

Without hesitation, he immediately replied. 

“I care about you, obviously.”

======================================================

“What..”

You saw a familiar teal haired eel in his lab coat,  sleeping soundly under the shade of a tree. 

You were carrying blankets and pillowcases you collected from the Heartslabyul dorm. Trey and Riddle allowed you to used their clothes dryer to hang your blankets and stuff. Pretty neat.

You stared at the peaceful eel. He’s way more different than his wild usual self. You couldn’t help but think he looked cute. He really did. Then you took note of his lab coat. He had alchemy. And Floyd only sleeps at random places if he ever felt moody or sleepy. Maybe he had a rough day in Alchemy class?

Well I mean, who wouldn’t? Professor Crewel and his ridiculous amounts of homework with his seemingly impossible to meet deadlines. 

You quietly knelt beside Floyd and gently draped the blanket around him. Seems like he really is deep in sleep. Sitting down beside him you looked up to the sky and took a deep breath.

Lazily, you felt your eyelids feeling heavy, unconsciously falling asleep on Floyd’s arm. You didn’t mean to, but you were so tired yourself.

Little did you two know, that Azul and Jade were trying to search for Floyd, and only find you and him sleeping.

And little did you know, that Floyd used his fingers to intertwined with yours.

===========================================================

“Oh..”

Cornered by the same Savanaclaw delinquents. Just great.

They’re probably here to extort your food and valuables again.

You know you said you hated looking vulnerable, but you also hated getting into trouble. So you just complied and gave them your bag.

They dumped out all your contents out of your bag, crushing and stepping on them.

In your head, you’re insulting them of how they are equivalent to an angry baby throwing a tantrum, but on the outside, you remain stoic.

Emotionless.

“Hey.”

All four of you immediately looked to the left upon hearing a dreaded voice. Floyd stood, casting a dark shadow as his eyes gleamed danger. The Savanaclaw students stopped their harassing and cower at the sight of the tall eel.

“You three were lucky I didn’t chase you down two weeks ago, after you ruined Koebi Chan’s homework. This time, I’m not holding back.”

You closed your eyes shut as you could only hear screaming from the Savanaclaw students, you went behind the door of your empty classroom until you heard only silence.

Three Savanaclaw students all passed out on the ground. Floyd gave them one last menacing look before he met your eyes with his dramatically softened ones.

He cling onto you.

“Ne~~~ Koebi Chan! You should’ve told them to stay away from you~”

“I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“Huh~~~~? But you need to toughen up a bit~”

“What are you going to do with them?”

He glanced back to the pile of students he had created.

“Ehehehehe~~~ I’m sure they’ll wake up!”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

His sudden change of his easy going attitude to a serious one slightly caught you off guard.

And then very quickly, he grinned a toothy grin.

“Koebi Chan shouldn’t let others tell you what to do!”

He took your hand in his.

“I will protect you! But make sure to protect yourself, too! Ehehehehe~~!”

Something in you told you that the warm feeling blooming in your chest, would only grow bigger.

============================================================

Want me to do part 2????

How to procrastinate 24/7

[colossal-fallout]

Historia and male bodied reader. Breeding kink. I'm making you go further down this hoe you dug

The Farmhand Father 🌾

Male bodied reader X Historia

Momma Sarah is feeding you male bodied readers well with this one...

Warnings: 18+ NSFW smut. Breeding kink. Size kink. innocence tainting. Seducing. Orgasm denial. Slight pillow Princess Historia.

Seriously... This is filth. You've been warned.

You remember mere hours ago that cute face of Historia blushing deeply, squirming in such a shy way, you thought it was absolutely adorable. Her huge, sky blues' glancing away nervously, her hands behind her back a sure sign of her feeling uncomfortable as she confessed her desires for you.

This powerful, high queen dressed now in normal clothes as she came to your farm escorted by her two most trusted guards.

You blink, her words melting into a blur as if you were receiving some awful news.

Yet, it couldn't be further from the truth.

Queen Historia. In all her royal glory. Someone who had visited your farm a fair few occasions. Nothing special. Royal duties and all that. You had been in awe at her beauty - as were most. She was straight from a fairy tale. Innocent, pure and sweet.

No.

She wasn't like she were from a fairy tale. Historia was the physical manefestation of inspiration to write the most gorgeous queen in the land. The most dangerous calling siren; her luring beauty so hazardously tempting.

You had to admit it, you were more than surprised to see her at your door, still looking devine even in nicely pressed civilian clothes.

"And so, due to royal duties I must produce an heir, to keep the Riess bloodline and - "

You were sure you'd heard her but your mind just wasn't accepting it. This had to be a dream. There was no way this was actually happening.

Perhaps you'd fallen and hit you head on the horse plough again and this was some weird coma dream. You were sure to wake up to those two Colten boys from the next farm over annoying you by trespassing. The usual, fantasy free life.

"Of course, I understand if you don't want to. Please don't feel forced because I am your queen. It's just... You are my first choice. I've wanted you for some time." Her crimson face glances away.

You already felt your cock twitch at the mere words of her suggesting what she was.

It was torture every single time she's visited to boost morale of the farmworkers. Her graceful form would float in, her delicate frame surprisingly strong as she even helped out with certain tasks, her kindness overflowing, pouring into the hearts of her citizens.

God what you wouldn't give just to smell her...

The amount of times you'd tugged yourself stupid, panting her name and imagineing her little pussy stretching around your colossal cock.

Boy was she in for a shock.

You hold yourself steady, your mouth watering with excitement. You did well to hide it. Surely if she knew how desperate you were for her, the extent of the yearning for her would surely make her rethink her decision.

You sit tense - still not really allowing yourself to believe this was real.

"What about your guards?" You ask, trying your hardest to keep your words steady.

She glanced back out of your living room window, the guards waiting by her carriage at the bottom of your large yard.

"They've been told to stay put. But, I don't mean we do this right now. I want you, I do. But shouldn't we get to know each other a bit more?"

Shit.

Now she was within your grasp, you couldn't risk her changing her mind. This was an opportunity of a life time. And you'd be damned if she gave up her innocence to some soldier.

But what could you do?

You most certainly were not going to force yourself upon her. You weren't a monster. Also, even if you were, you would probably be executed for such a thing.

And rightly so.

Your mind races as she stands up to excuse herself.

"It'll allow you some time to think. I'll be back here in one month from now."

A whole month?!

30 whole days of knowing she wanted you, was wet for you and might change her mind at any given time?! No way were you about to let that happen.

You spring to your feet, throat now suddenly dry.

"Historia. If I may...?" You hold out your hand feigning patience.

You're thrilled when her satin soft palm lands within yours, a touch you'd craved for the longest time. A gasp escapes her as you sit back down and pull her comfortably onto your lap. Her heart hammering with excitement as this strapping farmer she had been wanting for a while now pulls her down with such bold strength.

Her lips stay parted and that cute magenta tone etches her cheeks.

"Of course. Let's get to know one another better." You sneer. "There's something I must warn you about."

"Oh?" She sings in surprise as you allow yourself to finally inhale her scent. Her warm form on your lap was enough - your monster cock growing, yawing and stretching itself awake.

You swivel her around so she's now straddling you as you lean back further into the chair, your hands firmly caressing her thighs as her crotch sits on your solid errection.

Her eyes widen, nails slightly dig into your skin reflexively when she feels the sheer size and girth of you. Her thighs subconsciously squeeze together as that Magenta colour deepens into more of a crimson hue.

"Oh... I..." She stammers, squirming uncomfortably.

She didn't think it would be possible to want you more. You'd certainly caught her eye and she'd thought about you often, wondering how you were doing and wether or not you saw her the way she did you. And now, feeling your huge beast beneath her ceased all of her cognitive functions.

"Would that be okay, my sweetheart?" You coo, brushing her hair from her face and holding back a sneer.

You needed this to work.

You. A mere farmer about to fuck the queen. The innocent, pure queen who no one else had fucked (male anyway). You didn't mind the rumours that she had dated a fellow female soldier in her cadet days. She's still untainted by sinful cock.

Beneath your cool exterior was a panicked inferno of hazed lust. There was no possible way she was walking out of that door without being fucked by you, now you felt the warmth of her pussy rolling through the cloth of her panties under that skirt as her legs splayed across you.

Historia's blood ran hot and she was close to crumbling.

"I need to go." She muttered yet didn't make a move. Her eyes were still wide - her mind telling her to leave but her body refusing to let her.

Your fingers snake up to her waist before you begin you push her back and forth, her slit rubbing against your large buldge.

"I just wanted to make sure." You mutter, your soft facade quickly falling away as you have her warmth massaging you, moving her small form with such ease. "Before you go. I need you to be sure. I need you to really feel me. To know what you're going to be having."

Her face deepens in colour as warm, beautiful sensations caress her clit and folds as you rock her up and down against your length what was now throbbing; aching to be released and inside of her.

Wit great restraint, you prevent yourself from running your hands all over her. If you come on any stronger it would surely break the spell. You had to wait for the right moment.

"y-yes. Of course." She swallows hard, her chest rising and falling as you push her down a little harder, your groan being held back.

"You're so beautiful." You marvel, as if it was your first time noticing it.

Her hands suddenly and quickly run up your chest as she leans forward with a moan and crashes her lips against yours, her hips now grinding against you on their own accord, your hands now free to roam up her back as her hands run through your hair with desperation.

You sneer into her mouth, her lust too far gone for her to notice as this beautiful woman rubs against you frantically like a cat in heat, moaning into your mouth.

"I need you." She breathes, rubbing her head anywhere she could against you. "Please don't let me go. I need you now. Please have me... Oh please..."

With a grunt you get to your feet, her body wrapped around you as you carry her towards your bedroom. Your tongue swirled around her sweet little mouth, devouring her as you lock your door behind you and lower her down onto your bed.

"Jesus, Historia..." You gasp when you see a wet patch on your trousers where she'd been sitting.

"I'm sorry!" She squeaks, mortified. You didn't think there were a deeper shade of red on the colour spectrum as she slithers in embaressment.

"Don't be." You breathe, removing your damp pants and springing your cock free.

She gasps at the sight of your huge dick, it's fat head gleaming with malice as it almost angrily pulses and throbs, demanding entrence inside of her.

Pushing her legs up harshly, you put your face close to her soaked crotch, finally inhaling her scent before you encase your mouth around her, sucking the moisture from the material - your hot breath feeling heavenly as her head throws back.

She'd never wanted a man so much in her life. Nor had she been so turned on in all of her twenty one years.

You continue to suck and hum, your wish finally coming true. You couldn't wait to ruin her tiny frame, your fingers hooking at the cloth and pulling them down her legs.

"Please, don't stop." She pleads.

You glance down at her bloom that sat neatly between her legs.

Thick ropes of slick covered her small pink lips, her hunger making it twitch and clench, her insides spasming and trying to grab onto anything it could to ingest.

"fuck..." You sigh before leaning down and running your tongue up, moaning at her taste.

"Ah~!" She cries out in Hysteria, her back bending and hands gripping your sheets as you run your tongue painfully slow over her clit.

You had to give her the best orgasm of her life. You would go insane having her then not being able to again.

You take a fingertips and push it against her warm hole. You weren't sure how your were going to fit inside of her.

You'd make it fit.

Your name leaves her lips over and over as you insert your index, her insides instantly pulling you inside with glee.

Suddenly you pull away, leaving her starving as you make her way up her stomach, removing her shirt.

"You can't cum yet..." You explain as your trembling fingers removes her coverings. "It needs to be huge and at the same time as me. Best chance of becoming pregnant."

She nods, pained but understanding.

"Gonna fill your pretty pussy with my hot cum..." You groan into her as her now freed breasts are caressed by your mouth. "Get you nice and full with me. Gonna breed you like a pedigree bitch."

She whines at your words, your name repeating over and over as you kiss her breasts as if they were her mouth; tongue lapping and swirling around her pink nubs, lips smacking loudly against her soft, clean skin.

You lean back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Queen Historia, a flustered quivering and pleading mess - naked and splayed on your bed.

"Let's get you a little used to my size, huh?" You grunt, pupils dilated with a predatory hunger, pushing her arms up by her head and hovering above her chest removing your shirt with one hand.

You push your leaking head to her mouth.

"Kiss it." You command.

She does so immediately, her mouth pouting as she presses it against you, smearing your messy liquids around her lips. Rocking your hips you grab her hair with one hand pushing her mouth down. Her jaw is wide and you can only get her lips just past your huge head.

Hissing loudly you push her as far as she'll go, her eyes tragically beautiful as they water at your size her warm mouth sealed tightly around you; her tongue flat as you rock her head by her hair, her stifled moans loud and hysteric.

"Shi~~~t..." You sigh, as she gags and chokes, the back of her throat spasming around you, pulling her faster as you thrust into her, now with two hands as you push yourself up higher onto your knees.

"You've never had your mouth around a dick before, huh?" You ask.

She shakes her head, wet lashes fluttering with blinks before they roll with another loud choke.

You pull out, allowing her some air, ropes of her saliva sticking to you, keeping you connected to her mouth.

She whines your name after her gasp of oxygen before you push yourself back in, thrusting harder than before, your grip on her hair nice and tight as you skull fuck your queen.

"By the time I'm done with you, you'll only ever want my cock." You hum, sneering as her eyes roll furher, the squelching noises like music to your ears. One final deep thrust and you pull out, your orgasm brewing at a dangerously high speed.

"Take me, please!" She begs. "I need you inside of me! I'll do anything... Please!"

Panting you spread her legs, the arousal of you fucking her mouth now a wet patch on your bedsheets. Taking the bottom of your shaft you line up to her heat. You can already feel her walls trying to pull you in from within her. You sluggishly rub your thumb againt her external g spot, pushing yourself forward.

She cries out loudly, her spine folding backwards and head tilting as your head squishes into her tiny hole.

"It's s'so big... Ah~! I'm so full!"

"Oh baby..." You frown. "My head isnt even fully in you yet."

She whines in response as you slowly rock yourself, your angry errection tainting her with its poison, her purity ebbing away with each push, each millimetre that slides inside.

"So fuckin' tight." Your moan is desperate, hungry and predatory.

Glancing down you see her lips splitting apart at your girth, the pink colour washing out into a faded white as they attempt to swallow you.

"y/n!" She warns. "I can't. It's too good!"

You were inside of her now. You were too far gone to care as her entrance begins to spasm at the delicious full feeling of you, her orgasm hitting her hard as she silent screams, her eyes rolling.

"Fuck..." Your mouth waters as she gets even wetter, her ridged tunnel attempting to pull you in deeper. You take this opportunity, harshly thrusting into her while her mind was swirling in the void. You jut forward as your head finally passed her entrance, just as she comes back around.

You can't believe your eyes as you see the bump of your head pushing up against the flesh of her lower stomach - the sight alone almost making blow your thick load.

Historia is now extremely needy, her hands pulling you down and her lips taking yours faithfully as she sobs.

"S'so... Good. Ah~! Don't ever s'stop. Baby..."

"Never." You grunt pushing further into her.

"I can't... I'm going... Again...!"

Your eyebrows fly up in surprise as her nails sink into your back as she clings to you for dear life, holding you as close to her as possible as she cums once more around you.

Your eyes furrow closed. It was getting harder and harder not to cum and you hadn't even thrusted yet. You still weren't fully sheathed. Maybe you shouldn't have gotten cocky and fucked her sweet mouth.

You finally push yourself fully into her as her tongue lolls from her mouth.

"s'so full ah~! Y/n."

You begin to slowly dip into her, her snug insides so warm and tight, embracing your length lovingly, clamping and dancing around you in joy.

"I can't... Go back " she suddenly groans. "Not without you. Without this. Come back with me. Fuck me whenever I please. Your queen commands it."

Had you died and gone to heaven?

You nod. "Sure."

"Fuck me like this every night. I'll just lie here and your size alone can just... Ah~! Again~!"

Your dick is squeezed again, as she cums for a third time without much effort on your part.

"Fuck me over and over. Keep impregnating me. Only your cock is good enough, y/n. Yes! YES!"

Those words pushed you over the edge as well as her greedy tiny cunt sucking out your essence.

"Historia. I'm gonna cum."

"Give me it all." She sobs. "I want every last drop!"

Your pace quickens your hand grabbing and tugging her hair once more.

"Your dick is the only one I've had. And only one I ever will. It's too good not to own. It's mine now. Fuck me, please!" She cries out as she cums yet again.

You roar as your thick, hot cream splurges out of you, colliding with her cervix as she milks you dry. It sure as hell felt like she was taking every last drop - your orgasm going on and on. Your cum is leaking out of her stretched lips by the time you've filled her to the brim - her eyes in the back of her head and mouth open.

She'd ment it too. You didn't even have time to pack your stuff after you'd recovered as she whisked you away to her carriage. Admittedly, she was walking a little weird for a few days after.

Part 2 coming soon....?

[turtlepated]

When it Rains in the Valley

Stardew Valley fic - ShanexFemaleFarmerOC

NSFW - One shot

-----

You could have happily stayed curled up in bed for another hour or more, but even though your eyes were still closed and your body still relaxed and warm below the quilt your mind was dragging itself awake.

Sighing softly through your nose, you burrowed deeper into the mattress and allowed yourself just a little bit longer before getting up and beginning your day. Eyes still shut, you began to mull over the plans that had begun forming the previous night as you dropped off to sleep. The wheat field would be ready to harvest soon, and there was the irrigation system to fine-tune before replanting with a new crop. Rows of corn stalks packed with ears that would need to be picked before the crows got at them. And of course there were the chickens that would need feeding and cows that would need milking. 

The list was never ending, crops to tend to, repairs to be made, wood to gather, fruit to be made into jams and jellies, vegetables canned and preserved. You were proud of your modest little farmstead, even if it did require all the work and attentiveness you could muster. 

With another gentle sigh you began building up the will to hoist yourself out of bed, going still when a soft, rhythmic sound met your ears. You stilled, frowning into the pillow, recognition coming slowly into your still-sleep-muddled brain. Just as you worked out what it was, you felt the mattress shift beside you as a heavy form settled at the edge of the bed, an arm reaching across you to brace against the comforter. 

A familiar scent and a waft of warm breath across your cheek as a kiss was pressed there, the ticklish scratch of stubble against your skin that made goosebumps sweep up your arms. You didn’t open your eyes, but you couldn’t contain the smile that stretched your lips as another kiss landed on your temple. 

“It’s raining.” Humming, you rolled onto your back, caged between the arm braced against the mattress at your side and the warm, solid body that perched on the edge of the bed. Even in the semi-darkness of the stormy, pre-dawn morning you could see him; his dark hair damp and sticking up oddly in a few places, his ratty blue Jojamart jacket nowhere to be seen. He smelled faintly of rain, crisp and tangy mixed in with the rich, earthy aroma of clean hay and the heady, somewhat spicy scent you’d come to associate with just him. As you were taking him in he did the same to you, his forest green eyes roving your form with avid interest and a profound fondness that made your breath catch in your throat. When your eyes met he grinned lopsidedly, lowering his face back to yours and favoring you with soft, languid kisses to your cheeks, your chin and nose and forehead, not stopping even when you giggled and squirmed at the tickle of his scruff. 

“I thought that’s what it sounded like,” you murmured in response, curling a hand around the top of his shoulder as he drew back enough so you could look at one another. Shane shifted then, reaching up with a hand to brush a stray fall of hair off your forehead. 

“I had an idea,” he said, his voice soft and low, making you shiver. You raised your brows at him, an invitation to continue. 

“You won’t need to water the fields today,” he went on. “And I just came in from taking care of the animals. I know you wanted to fix up the irrigation in the wheat field, but you can’t do it in the rain…. So the morning is pretty wide open...” You were grinning now, the hand on his shoulder gradually working its way up the curve of his neck while his own hand likewise began to wander, feeling for the top of the blanket and peeling it back enough to find the hem of your sleep shirt which had ridden up in the night. 

As his fingers splayed across your stomach, sliding in no particular hurry up towards your ribcage, your hand caught him by the back of his neck, urging his head down to you. You could see and hear him swallow as he complied, not quite able to shake his nerves even though this had been his idea. Craning your neck, you kissed the tiny furrow between his eyebrows, soothing away the worried lines on his features. “What did you have in mind?” you teased, able to discern the flush creeping up his neck and blooming on his cheeks even in the low light. 

Abruptly the large, warm hand on your torso slid up to cup your breast, kneading gently, the short, blunt thumbnail toying with your nipple until it hardened. When you let out an appreciative purr and reciprocated by raking your nails through the fine, buzzed hair at the base of his skull, Shane shuddered and dove down to capture your mouth in a heated kiss. You broke apart long enough to kick yourself free of the covers as he clambered fully onto the bed, toeing off his wet shoes before settling at your side, supporting himself on one elbow so he could lean over you. 

Things stilled for a moment between you. Excitement was sparking through your body, waking you fully, every inch of skin prickling attentively in anticipation but you were transfixed by the awestruck look on his face, as if he still couldn’t believe something like this was happening to him. His eyes were riveted to you, flitting all over, seemingly unable to settle anywhere for long. You watched his tongue dart out to wet his parted lips, his chest rising and falling quicker despite the fact that all that had transpired so far was a hot kiss and copping a feel. 

Shane tended to get lost in his own head, and for most of the time you had known each other that could be a treacherous place. But you knew just how to bring him back to the here and now. Smiling, you reached up to touch his face, loving the rasp of his whiskers against your palm. He turned to press his lips into your hand, a rush of warmth spreading from the center of your chest outward. 

“C’mere,” you breathed into the space between you, meeting his mouth halfway as he leaned down to kiss you. You sighed into the kiss, drinking in the smell and taste and feel of him in the soft give and take that followed, quickly growing more demanding and desperate as you all but tugged him bodily on top of you. Fingers delved into his hair, scratching his scalp as your legs tangled together: yours bare but for cotton sleep shorts, his in old jeans from where he’d gone out to the coop and the barn. The rough texture against your calves and thighs was rapidly causing arousal to pool, bubbling like molten metal, in your pelvis. Shane had rucked your shirt up practically to your neck, squeezing and massaging your chest while breaking off from your lips to kiss a chain across your cheek to the sensitive spot behind your ear. 

“Fuck,” he gasped, hot breath blasting against the side of your neck. “You’re so beautiful. How are you so beautiful?” You felt yourself flushing under his murmured words of praise, struggling to get your shirt off and out of the way. Noticing your wriggling, Shane backed off and took the bunched material in his hands as you sat up enough to slip your arms and head out. His lust-blown eyes grew impossibly larger as he distractedly dropped your shirt and lowered himself, chest to chest, pressing you down into the mattress as he ravished your exposed neck and collarbones and shoulders with single-minded attention; lips and teeth and tongue, a mix of heat and chill as his breath ghosted over the dampened skin before pressing hot, open mouth kisses anywhere he could reach.  

You mewled softly at his ministrations, your blood scorching as it roared in your veins, your pulse thumping in your chest and in your ears and between your legs. Sighing his name you tipped your head to one side, offering him more room which he gladly accepted as he sucked marks along the column of your throat. You crossed your ankles around one of his, gripping his leg between yours, an exhilarating swooping sensation in the pit of your stomach at the prominent bulge that pressed into your hip through layers of fabric. 

“Mmm, too many clothes,” you managed to say, your hands fumbling for the bottom of the ill-fitting polo shirt he still insisted on wearing, saying it was a waste to wear anything else because it would only get dirty. Shane sucked in a breath as your hands tugged the hem from his waistband and you felt him tense all over. 

“Wait, wait,” he stammered. “Just… gimme a second, okay?” 

You let out a sad little huff as he lifted himself off you to sit uncertainly back on the side of the bed, sitting up to fix him with a knowing look as he dithered about looking anywhere but at your face. As many times as you had seen one another naked, Shane still got self-conscious sometimes about his physique. As a former athlete, he was even more uncomfortable with the soft chest and rounded stomach that had resulted from the hours he’d logged in the corner by the fireplace at the Stardrop Saloon. You didn’t mind it in the slightest, point of fact you had found him incredibly attractive ever since your first meeting when he waspishly snapped at you to leave him alone. Telling him that you liked the way he looked was all well and good, but he never quite seemed to believe you. 

Anyway, showing him was much more fun…

The line of his shoulders was tense as you rose onto your knees, scooting your way across the bed to him. You felt him jump slightly as you leaned against his back, your face angling into the curve of his neck as your arms wound around him. After a beat he relaxed into your embrace with a long sigh, distracted from whatever train of thought was trying to steer him away from you. 

“Let me help?” you mumbled against his neck, asking permission but also assuring him that it was what you wanted. You smiled when you felt and heard his breath hitch slightly, your lips ghosting across his skin as he swallowed and nodded his consent. Fingers spread to caress his chest, you slid your palms down the curve of his abdomen towards the bottom of his polo, which was still partially guarded by the arms folded over his middle. 

You paused when your fingertips met his forearms, chuckling under your breath and shifting closer, pressing more firmly against him and resting your chin on his shoulder. 

“Shane? Honey?” you whispered, tucking your face into the side of his neck and kissing softly at the space behind his ear. A tiny moan issued from between his parted lips, but you had his attention again. “It’s okay.” Slowly, he allowed your fingers to delve past his arms to the hem of his shirt and beneath. 

Working slowly, keeping up a steady stream of praises and confirmations muttered into his ear and neck and the side of his head, you shucked off his shirt and cast it aside. Without the fabric separating you, your breasts flush against his bare back, your hands skating up and down his stomach and chest while your mouth worked along the curve of his shoulder, Shane couldn’t keep himself quiet; moans and gasps and whispered curses. 

Grinning wickedly against his heated skin, you took a bit of his neck carefully between your teeth while raking your nails through the dark hair that dusted his pecs, circling his nipples and experiencing a sense of satisfaction when the dual sensations drew a choked off cry from him, his back arching and his head falling back over your shoulder.

Your ploy worked, but your triumph was short lived. With his inhibitions now thoroughly forgotten, Shane spun in your arms and caught your lips in a searing kiss as he surged forward back onto the bed, driving you ahead of and then under him as one arm encircled your hips while the free hand kneaded at your chest. Another thrill went through you at his sudden ardor, your hands resuming their stroking and petting as he again broke off the kiss to nip a matching mark on your own neck that made you hiss. You shuddered afterward as you felt his tongue, hot and wet, gently lapping at what would surely be a bruise. 

“Hah, still too many clothes,” you breathed against the shell of his ear with a grin. You felt him hum into your skin as an answer, shifting to get his hands and knees under him to raise off of you. His eyes were practically glued to you as you shimmied out of your sleep shorts and underwear, smiling coyly at him as you dropped them carelessly over the side of the bed and lay fully naked before him. For a beat all he seemed able to do was simply gape at you and a nervous flutter started up in your stomach. 

In the next instant he settled himself beside you and you threw a leg up and over his hip, pulling flush against him and a little thrilled by the fact that you were now bare while he was still half dressed. Shane began moving, himself and you, scooting his way to the center of the bed and then rolling onto his back and pulling you with him so that you now straddled his waist. His hands both came up to grasp at your ass, fingers digging deliciously into the flesh before sliding up the curve to grip your hips, holding you tight against him as your mouths moved against one another. 

You hummed into him as one of his hands roved back over the curve of your ass, the other pressing into your back, holding you to him. The wandering hand didn’t stop at the crest of the rise, continuing on downhill and between your legs where you were already growing pleasantly wet. Two fingers brushed at your lips and you felt Shane smile into your kiss as he noticed it as well, pressing them in just a little further. You gasped into his mouth at the minor intrusion, feeling the rumbling from deep in his chest as he chuckled. 

In revenge for his teasing you rolled your hips, grinding against his pelvis and grinning at the groan that escaped him. His hands immediately left your body and fumbled with his button and fly, squirming to work them down his hips without unseating you. Your grin widened at his desperation, but you obligingly raised yourself up onto your knees so he could lift himself off the bed and work his pants down. 

His stiff cock bobbed as it slipped free of the constraints of his clothes, coming to rest flush against his soft stomach. You eyed it hungrily, glancing at his face through your lashes. His cheeks were reddened, the fringe of hair over his forehead already sticking to his skin with sweat. When he saw the look you were giving him his blush darkened and he swallowed hard. 

Without further stalling you took him in your hand, hearing him suck in a breath through his teeth as you gave him a squeeze before settling yourself down beside him and wrapping your lips around him. Shane’s eyes shut and his head dropped back against the pillow with a muttered curse as you languidly sucked him, lavving the flat of your tongue against the underside of his cock, humming as you went. 

“Ah shit, baby, just like that!” he gasped, one hand burying itself in your hair. He shuddered when you took him in deeper, hollowing your cheeks and earning a drawn out groan as his fingers tightened against your scalp. You pulled your head back, letting him slip from between your lips and replacing your mouth with a fist, stroking his spit-slick member until his hips began to judder. Abruptly his hand flew to yours, stopping your ministrations. 

“‘M not gonna last long if you keep that up,” he rasped, his chest and shoulders pleasantly flushed. “It’s your turn. C’mere.” 

As you repositioned yourself, Shane kicked himself free of his pants, reaching up to discard the pillow under his head and guiding you to straddle his face. “If you need to stop, let me know,” you urged him, but Shane needed no concerns. Raising his head he stroked your slit with his tongue, from cunt to clit, making you gasp at the contact. 

From then on he dove in headlong, mouthing your mound with his lips while his tongue sank through your damp folds. He sighed through his nose and groaned into you, the vibrations making your insides clench deliciously as you breathed his name. Shane teased your clit with the tip of his tongue, tracing around and around it until you keened and gripped his hair. You were sopping by now, between his mouth and your own arousal, and ready for more. 

You batted his hands away from where they held you in place by your hips, moaning for him to stop, that it was becoming too much. He let his head fall to the mattress, his chin coated in your slick and his own saliva, his chest heaving almost in time with your own. 

“Wanna come with you,” you managed to say, reaching down to tenderly glide your fingers through his hair. He leaned into your touch, nodding once. Raising yourself on trembling knees you scooted back down his body until you straddled his waist. Shane tensed when you took his cock in your hand, stroking him lightly as you lined it up with your entrance and sank slowly down onto him. Your moans tangled together until you were seated against his pelvis, taking a beat to catch your breath before you started to move against him. 

The burn, the stretch of his cock filling you were delicious, scratching an itch that had been building since he first woke you up. “So good,” he hissed. “You feel so good, baby.” 

“Mmm, so you do,” you purred, rocking in his lap. His hands gripped your thighs, fingers clenching against the plump flesh. Your own hands smoothed up his stomach to his chest and back, stroking and petting as you rode him a little faster, chasing the finish you were both desperate for. 

Shane didn’t seem able to keep his hips from rising to meet you, with each upward thrust his cock struck at the perfect angle that made you moan. Your head lolled back on your shoulders as you picked up the pace, feeling his body tensing under you. “Are you close?” you asked, looking down at his flushed and sweating face. He nodded, releasing your leg with one hand and bringing it up to his mouth. Licking the pad of his thumb he reached between your legs and circled your clit. The added stimulation made you moan obscenely and increase your pace even more. As you rutted against him Shane grunted with each stroke, his thumb unrelenting in its teasing of your already sensitive clit. 

Pleasure had built to a fever pitch in your body as you lost your rhythm completely, thighs screaming from the exertion as you bounced up and down on his cock. “Fuck, Shane! Fuck, baby, I’m coming!” At last the tightly wound spring in your pelvis broke loose and you cried out as waves of euphoria swept through you, your pulse thumping and your muscles aching in the best way. 

As your pussy clenched and unclenched rapidly around him, Shane came right behind you with a hoarse cry of his own, his whole body going rigid for a moment or two as he rode out his release before he finally relaxed, sagging into the bed and gasping for air. When you trusted your rubbery legs to support you, you swept yourself up and off his hips, his softening and leaking cock slipping from you as you settled down at his side. 

He wound an arm around your neck, tugging you closer for a lazy, sloppy kiss that you happily returned. 

This was why you loved the rain. 

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

Just something that always crosses my mind when it rains in Stardew Valley. Thought I’d share! 

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Enforcers Part 8 (Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader)

wc: 1.7k

tw: dark content (self-harm)

masterlist

a/n: By no means do I condone self-harm or want to glorify it in the light of this chapter. As a person who struggled with physical self-harm in her early teens, I know the destructive nature of this type of activity. However, as my characters are not perfect and complicated, I see this particular mode of action as something she would try to do in order to alleviate her pain and confusion. If you have questions or concerns, my inbox is always open to having a discussion about it.

If you so wish, you may skip this chapter altogether. There will be a recap on the next one if you choose to skip for your mental health. Take care of yourselves and see you soon. (ALSO, I know I promised smut but I gotta give y'all a raincheck this go-round. SORRY PLS DON'T KILL ME)

You're on your forty-seventh file of scandals, coverups, and secret dossiers that you finally feel it. The fabric of your identity begins to unravel right before your eyes.

Everything you've known is a lie.

The CSB has covered up so many things. So many lives lost. So many people forced to flee. So many families ripped apart--

An email makes its way over to the server, and you open it, the words across the screen coming from Suguru.

I know it's late, but send over Yu Haibara's files when you can.

You hit the reply button and begin to type out: "You mean the boy you killed?" but you stop yourself, deleting the words rapidly. Instead, you attach the files and send them over, not even bothering to look at them. You can't do it. Not another file could be stored away in the annals of your brain.

Nothing is as it seems anymore. The lies... they pile up in your mind, flooding the spaces where you used to hold what you thought was true, what you thought was real. Now, they're overflowing out of your brain and into your heart and soul, plaguing you like the nightmares that face you down night after night, more like demons that lurk in the corners of your mind than full file cabinets.

You always wake up in a tangle of sheets and sweat, one of your various enemies' faces hovering over you right before you stare down the barrel of a gun and --

You stumble out of the chair, eyes wet with tears, and go to the sink in the bathroom to wash your face. After you splash water on your skin, you look up at your reflection, anger rolling through you at the way you look. Weak.

You're fucking weak.

The voice in your head that usually told you that you were doing okay, that you had it all under control, is now turning on you, spitting nasty words that stick in between the synapses of your brain a muddy your rational thoughts.

The voices rise to a fever pitch, and you suddenly see red, the entirety of the world descending into blood-colored madness. The shattering of the glass mirror only becomes a reality when you're standing above the sink, chest heaving as your thoughts silence one by one, like shutting off lights in a house.

But only one stays behind as a shard of the mirror clinks into the sink.

Escape.

The light at the end of the tunnel.

You could get rid of the feelings here. You could get rid of the thoughts. You could escape. Why hadn't you thought about this before?

"Do it."

Your fingers grip the jagged shard of glass carefully, and before you can stop yourself, you drag it across the inside of your wrist, end to end, leaving behind a red line of blood that immediately blooms. Crimson dots drop into the sink, and you stare at the color, mesmerized by the way the blood runs down your arm and into the porcelain bowl. But there's no relief.

No sense of freedom.

Maybe you didn't do it hard enough?

Maybe you didn't--

The door to your room slams open, and you turn your head just as Suguru comes rushing into the bathroom. The shard of glass is still in your hand, as well as the blood running down your arm, and Suguru catches this immediately.

"Fuck," he breathes, and you turn to him, shard extended.

"Don't come any closer."

"Y/n," he calmly whispers. "You don't look so good."

"I wonder why that is," you reply, and Suguru stares back at you, hands raised in surrender.

"What're you doing?"

"What does it look like, Suguru?" you state in a trance. Your bullet wound begins to throb dully, but you ignore it, just like you're ignoring the blood dripping onto the tile flooring.

"Y/n, let's think about this."

"I don't want to think anymore!" The shrill scream is loud enough to make Suguru flinch, and you softly repeat, "I don't want to think anymore," over and over again as tears run down your face.

"I know," Suguru whispers. "I know. Will you let me help you?" You hiccup and drop the piece of glass to the floor, dissolving in a heap of tears and moans. You feel hands pulling you up from the floor and into strong arms, your head being cradled against a broad chest you've felt before. "Go ahead," Suguru encourages you. "Cry it out."

He carries you to another room in the building in silence, laying you on a firm bed and disappearing as you heave painful sobs into the sheets.

"Everything... hurts..." you gasp, and when Suguru reappears with a white bundle of cloth, a bandage roll, and some water, he nods.

"We're going to make it better, don't worry." He takes your injured arm and carefully wipes away the blood, examing the cut slowly. "Doesn't need stitches, thankfully." He turns to open the water bottle and hands it to you, silently telling you to drink while he bandages your wrist.

You drink the water greedily then lean back on the headboard, eyes closing down as Suguru works diligently on your wound. And then you remember the first time he did this for you and the mistake you made in your pridefulness.

"Thank you," you murmur, and Suguru looks up at your face, finally seeing some form of clarity cross your tear-streaked cheeks.

"You're welcome," he replies tenderly. "I have to keep you safe, remember? I promised you that I would." You don't answer him, but he finishes at that exact moment anyways, standing and placing the remnants of the bandage roll on the nightstand. The wound is now covered up completely, with no sign of blood seeping through the cotton and staining the white cloth dark red.

You watch as Suguru crawls into the bed beside you, sighing deeply as he runs his fingers through his locks. "Should I stay awake with you or do you want to try to sleep?"

"Sleep," you answer - albeit not confidently - and the black-eyed man obliges, pulling the thin sheet over you.

"I'll be right here," he affirms, but you reach out your uninjured arm and touch his hand. He instantly turns his palm up to let you grab his fingers, and you pull him closer to you in the king-sized bed.

"Hold me." A second passes with no movement, and Suguru whispers,

"Are you sure?" You nod, and he wordlessly scoots closer, wrapping an arm around you as you nestle into his side with your bandaged hand resting on his chest. His fingers rub a soft pattern up and down your skin, soothing you to the brink of sleep. "I've got you. We'll deal with everything else in the morning," Suguru murmurs as you slip off into a dreamless - and nightmare-less - sleep.

_____________________________________________________________

Morning comes and goes.

Midday arrives, and you awaken from your terrorless sleep still encased in Suguru's grasp. Your eyes flick up to his face, which is peaceful in the midday light streaming in from the windows. The Leader of the Fallen Sun District is asleep and dead to the world around him, but the sound of his breathing lets you know he's on the brink of waking up.

Part of you doesn't want him to. You want to lay there without any responsibilities to him, without any concern, or further harm to either one of you. Maybe if you continued to sleep, all of this would become a distant memory. All of this would go away, and you could go back to living in ignorance.

But Suguru's stirring makes you stiffen, and you feel his arms tighten around you before sliding away.

"You're awake."

"Yeah," you whisper, and he sits up, pulling his knees to his chest.

"We need to talk about last night." You sit up as well, staring at the edge of the bed blankly. "Why didn't you tell someone about your declining mental health?"

"I didn't realize it until it was too late," you admit, looking at the bandage on your wrist. "But I won't be doing that again."

"Doesn't matter," Suguru interjects, looking over at you. You choose to avoid his gaze and stare at your feet, inhaling deeply. "I have to have someone watch you now. I want you to be safe, and now I'm not sure if I can ensure that without some oversight on my part."

"No," you exhale quickly, looking over at him in fear. "I'm better now, I promise."

"I'll have someone move a few of your things over here. That way I can keep an eye on you, just in case." Suguru continues, standing from his position on the bed. "I won't bother you. But I made a promise to you, and I'm going to keep it at all costs." He turns back to you, stating, "Today we'll take a day off and go into the town. I've been wanting to show you around for a while anyway."

You conclude the argument is over when he places a kiss on your temple, then walks into his bathroom, shutting the door and leaving you on the bed alone.

_____________________________________________________________

A car picks both of you up from the building, and when you slide into the backseat, Suguru points to the expanse in the distance.

"Take us to the marketplace." The driver nods, scars running up and down his pale face and his blue eyes looking up at you in the rearview mirror. Does this man even know that he's sitting next to the leader of the Fallen Sun district? Or is Kenjaku a faceless man, hiding behind walls of ones and zeroes?

The scenes that pass by you look identical to those of the city you know and love. There are children playing on the sidewalks, people carrying groceries, life carrying on as if the majority of their names aren't on some rejected list of people who defected from their previous society. Suguru notices your awe at the way things are, and looks over at you, smiling brightly.

"You'd be surprised what you can build from ashes, y/n."

_____________________________________________________________

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