#we try to make sense at almost midnight

[thisisadonaldduckblognow]

yes a thousand percent absolutely lets go

(firstly i am sorry my post put anyone to a point of feeling the need to apologize for or feel bad for being Very Into Leo’s character. as someone who is flagrantly Very Into Raph’s character, i promise i wasn’t trying to throw a stone in this glass house. i’ve gotten burnt out on a lot of fanon leo stuff but part of why im so !!!! about it is bc i too love leo’s characterization and potential.. i swear

catch me catching my brain and tone malfunctions behind dennys later, sorry again gang)

BUT YE I’LL TALK ABOUT MOVIE RAPH STUFF TO MY BEST CAPACITY ALL DAY

overall i honestly... totally get raph being hard to get a handle on in this respect. like it’s pretty difficult to pick where to start and how to express it even just in an informal tumblr analysis post, i still haven’t managed to put together any kind of fic myself LMAO. bear with me i will do my best!

so firstly there’s just the veritable gauntlet of “stuff raph experienced/was dealing with in the span of the movie” to consider, i think. 

- his fear and anxiety over his family’s safety, for which he always always feels personally responsible. when he called the retreat during that first fight with the krang, he was absolutely terrified-- and i can only imagine how much scarier it was after leo bailed on the escape pod. like, there’s no way raph was not hauling ass after leo the second he saw that happen.

= he takes a hit for leo, as in just barely stops it and loses a chunk of shell/plastron in the process. he sacrifices himself using his pod to get leo out of there safely (and there’s so much to be said about the fact that raph’s pod seems to be the only one that didn’t auto-activate. that only he and donnie seemed to know they even existed. there’s a whole talk they must have had right there, like raph would probably have had to ask specifically for this feature.)

- the krang try to intimidate answers out of him about the key, and when that doesn’t get them those answers, prime literally jams tentacles into his brain and roots around until he can find what they’re looking for. so that’s one bullet point on the list for outright mental violation. it looks/sounds very painful, not to mention terrifying. 

^^ and honestly, this point of suffering in particular is one that i think would be hardest for raph to actually bring up/talk about with his family. because none of them were there. none of them KNOW. and how do you explain that to them? how do you try to make yourself break that out when they’re already worried about the other stuff that happened to you and to everyone else? when part of you is guilty about it despite yourself, because so much of your identity is tied into being a protector that you can’t help but feel like you should have been able to wall that info off somehow and keep your family safe?

- gets infected by the krang and put into the big gross pod to... incubate, i guess? there’s so much unanswered about the point between brain torture and getting found by his family tbh. was he conscious and aware of being left alone in there? was that why he was so out of it even before the mutation?

- and then of course there’s said painful, grotesque body horror forced krang mutation that he has to go through once he’s out of the pod! thanks i hated it! like it seriously looks so gross and painful.

- ah yes and the mind control... being used as a tool and a puppet and specifically set out to hurt or even kill the family he loves and wants to protect. 

- the standard “we had our cool epic boss fight against the evil alien but he kicked our asses with one flick and then punched mikey and donnie all the way to staten island” physical roughage, too. leo portaled him after mikey and donnie so he could catch them. donnie took the brunt of the krang punch, and raph took the brunt of the hard landing (he is holding his side like he might have some rib issues, they all look rough af down there phew)

- leo’s sacrifice is leo’s sacrifice and definitely a leo development moment as an action itself, i’m never gonna say 'yep here’s how leo getting brutalized in prison dimension is all about raph’. i’m talking about the like, aftermath and pre-rescue emotional toll that that has etc etc etc. ftr.

point one there is obviously just the grief. like, raph is literally incapable of standing when it hits. he’s on all fours, he can’t open his eyes. i made a post comparing the caps of raph’s face getting stabbed and raph’s face when it was sinking in that leo was (apparently) Gone gone bc the expressions are nearly identical. like just. absolute agony. 

- and on top of that, i sincerely think that leo’s “you’re one to talk, hero moves are totally your thing” apparent last words are gonna stick with raph for a very long time. even after they save leo. the look on his face after leo says that... man. i think there’s a very real moment of raph going what have i done, what did i teach him? about the entire situation.

the way this is already tl;dr oh well SO IG SOME OF MY GENERAL TAKEAWAYS AND THINGS I THINK ABOUT WHEN IT COMES TO POST-MOVIE RAPH:

first and foremost. rip raph sufferer of some of the most intense eldest child syndrome i’ve ever seen. he feels bad that he got used to get his family’s location. he feels bad that he got used to harm and nearly kill his family. he probably feels bad that leo feels bad that his shell is damaged, smh. it’s guilt all the way down. the kind where he knows logically his family does not want or need apologies, that getting controlled was literally not his fault, but he feels bad anyway.

and like i said i get how it’s hard to get a handle on him for stuff, because raph is also... not super good at the emotional vulnerability sharing? it’s so wild because he’s very openly emotional and easy to read! he’ll cry during a sad movie scene and yell at a frustrating video game no problem, he’s very straightforward! but when it comes to sincere vulnerability and actually seeking comfort/closure about it, he has a big struggle vibe. good luck to the entire family bc every single brother is gonna be in a “oh but everyone else already has so much to deal with i don’t wanna pile more on with my problems” zone, i think. 

also just like. raph is a protector. that’s one of the core pillars of his sense of identity and worth. he takes care of his brothers. he keeps his family safe. and so so so much of what he went through or experienced in the movie went directly against that. raph, the big brother, the beating heart of the team, the one who takes hits, the overprotective mother hen, gets used to track down his family, and then gets used to hurt them. very nearly gets used to kill leo outright. isn’t there to take the hit for leo again at the end of the movie, is helpless as his little brother seemingly sacrifices his life to save them and the world. how does he come to terms with that? how does he feel like he still deserves the trust and faith that his family puts in him to keep being a rock? (they’re not scared of him, but he’s scared of him.)

and for real seriously how does he ever ever get around to dealing with that brain probe and the mutation specifically. his mind and his bodily autonomy got so deeply violated in the process of this movie. it’s scary! and painful! what kind of scenario would a writer even have to rig up to back him into enough of a corner to share those feelings with his family (who would absolutely want to comfort and support him)! it’s nightmarish stuff that’s gonna linger with him for the rest of his life. 

and in fact on the mutuation/mind control. i think the fact that leo was able to get through to raph just with words, that that was how he managed to break through the control, maybe means that raph was aware of what he was being made to do all along and just. unable to pull enough strength together to stop it before that point. woof.

idk idk if any of this makes real sense or helps for getting a handle on raph’s character at all tbh, it’s just a lot of me nonsensically putting him in a jar with a leaf and a stick for scientific observation ig. if ppl wanna hit me w questions or discussions about my personal opinions on my favorite boi feel free tbh

maybe the real raph character analysis was the hug and nightmare-free nap he probably desperately needs all along....... ah its too late hes dissociating on the couch. relatable.

#rottmnt #rottmnt raph #rise raph #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt movie #we try to make sense at almost midnight

[yueebby]

Dying thinking about gojo literally pinning and hardcore simping for reader, literally showering reader in praise, flattery and gifts because he no longer gives a damn about hiding his feelings, almost proposing to reader whenever he can and reader's just... completely clueless about it💀 and she thinks it's just gojo being friendly. Poor man would be absolutely devastated when he goes one day "[name] i'm in love with you" and she just goes "me too, i love all my friends!" 💀

she loves me, she loves me not! — gojo satoru x fem!reader

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo (what’s new), highschool!gojo, he’s pathetic but in love your honor, oblivious!reader, ooc gojo i got carried away soz

notes. anon, when i first read your ask i literally started giggling and kicking my feet. that. is. so. gojo coded.

“please reject gojo and put him out of his misery,” utahime implored, taking hold of both of your hands. you think she’s asking, no, begging you to. beside her, shoko nods vigorously. 

“but why?” you furrow your eyebrows, perplexed by their sudden request. “i can’t reject someone who doesn’t like me.”

shoko giggles at your comment. her laughter only wanes when she notices the dead serious look on your face. “... you seriously have no idea what we’re talking about?”

“not really,” you shrug, criss-crossing your legs to find some comfort on the hard wooden floor in shoko’s small dorm. it was late, past midnight, and the three of you had a shared mission tomorrow, but for some reason your two friends managed to rope you into their drinking circle.

utahime and shoko exchanged a significant glance, their unspoken communication raising your curiosity. utahime takes a long sip of her beer. 

“hopeless. they’re both hopeless,” your short haired brunette friend lamented, pinching her nose bridge. it leaves a faint pink mark.

intrigued, you lean in closer towards the two, “care to elaborate?”

“you’ve never once questioned satoru’s borderline inappropriate behavior?” shoko asks you earnestly. you ponder for a moment, trying to recall any moments in the two years you’ve known the snow-haired boy.

“satoru is satoru…” you mumble, shaking your head in denial. 

utahime’s eyes bug comically. she slams her can of beer harshly on the ground. you wince at the loud noise of the metallic can hitting the floor.

“you’re kidding. even i can see through that jerk!” utahime’s black pigtails sway wildly. 

“[name], how about what happened in shinjuku last week on our day off?” shoko quietly reminds you of last weekend when the two of you along with satoru and suguru decided to empty your pockets in one of tokyo’s largest entertainment wards. 

utahime’s head whips back and forth from her best friend to you, “eh? what happened?!”

from behind the dressing room curtain, you voiced your concerns, “shoko, i don't think we can afford designer clothes on our student budget.” the cream-colored silk dress you wore clung to your body, its price tag undoubtedly surpassing a year's worth of your student earnings.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” shoko’s voice carried a knowing smile. “just come out and show me the dress!” you think satoru’s carefree attitude is rubbing off on her.

with a nervous sigh, you emerged from the dressing room. the dress fit like a glove, accentuating your body in just the right places.

bright flashes from shoko's phone startled you, and she chuckled deviously while rapidly typing. she tossed her phone onto a luxurious cushion, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of exposure.

“you look so sexy. even better than the model.” she gives you two thumbs up, eyes roaming your figure. you feel flushed at her praise.

“as flattered as i am, there’s no way i can afford this,” you look down at the dress, lips downturned. “i’d be in debt for life.”

“no need to worry,” shoko winked, leaving you confused. given that her income was similar to yours, it didn't make sense for her to be able to even dream of shopping designer.

a soft thud interrupted your conversation. you turn around to see a blue lollipop rolling on the expensive carpeting of the store.

“suguru, are my eyes deceiving me or is that an angel?”  satoru's mouth is wide open as he shamelessly checks you out. he takes one of his hands and places it over his heart, gripping the fabric of his white shirt. the windbreaker he is wearing rustles at his dramatic movement.

“i think… i’m experiencing a heart attack! shoko help!” he kneels in the middle of the store dramatically. shoko shares an unamused look with suguru. the pair nod before simultaneously kicking satoru.

during all of the commotion, you stand awkwardly in the million yen dress. 

“satoru, are you okay?” you watch him take the two blows from your friends, concern evident in your voice. he grunts softly before gently taking ahold of your hand.

“no,” he croaks with a playful glint in his eye. “i’m wounded and there’s only one way to fix it.”

you look at him, your gaze heavy with concern.

“i’m afraid you’ll have to kiss me for the pain to go away.” he added, blinking at you expectantly with his blue eyes.

 you lightly shove him away from you. “you’re an idiot.” satoru laughs loudly.

“that’s what love does to a man.”

“yeah, yeah. i’m going to change out of this dress, don’t get into any more trouble while i’m gone.” 

 satoru’s grip on your hand strengthens, halting your actions.

“how much?”

“excuse me?”

“the dress. how much for it?” he stands up to his full height, reminding you of the obvious height difference between the two of you. 

you're at loss for words. gojo was crazy, but definitely not crazy enough to spend a million yen on a silly dress.

shoko happily chimes into the conversation. “one million yen. it’ll be two million yen with the rest of my purchases though!” 

suguru’s calm demeanor is replaced with shock. the black haired male’s jaw drops, “two million– satoru, you’re seriously not thinking about–”

“hah? who said i’m paying for your stuff?” gojo makes an ugly face at shoko.

she raises her hands innocently, “it’s not my fault the dresses come in a set. if you want to see your beloved [name] in that dress you’ll have to pay for mine as well.”

you watch shoko and satoru engage into a silent argument. the tension in the fitting room section is so thick, you think it’ll take a special grade weapon to slice through it.

trying to alleviate the mood you tell gojo, “satoru, you really don’t have to–”

“i’m buying you that dress.” 

“o-okay.” 

half an hour later, satoru happily strolls out of the store with an arm around your shoulder like he’d just won the lottery.

perhaps gojo is just naturally flirty, you had tried to reason to shoko and utahime.

it’s been a week since the eye-opening conversation with the two and you’ve found yourself on cleaning duty with said snow-haired boy. it was a miracle that satoru even showed up. he had a tendency to skip his turns, often resulting in a long lecture from yaga.

as the two of you worked silently in the empty classroom, you couldn't help but admire the setting sun. its golden rays painted the sky with hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over everything. unknowingly, while you gazed at the sky, gojo's gaze was firmly fixed on you.

breaking the silence, he asked, "have you ever thought about getting married?"

his question caught you off guard, causing you to momentarily pause from wiping the windows.

“not really,” you replied, biting your lip gently. “unless my family decides to arrange a marriage. you know how unforgiving the world of jujutsu sorcery is.”

gojo's grip on the broom tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with a newfound intensity.

"we should get married y'know," he blurted out.

the piece of cloth you were using slipped from your hand in shock. surely, he couldn't mean what he was saying. after all, the two of you were only second years.

“what?”

“i’m saying i think i’m in love with you.”

“oh.” 

silence engulfs the room once more before a soft giggle escapes your lips.

satoru can only watch, entranced.

“that’s good to hear! i love you too– and suguru and shoko! perhaps the four of us should all just get married.” you chuckle into your hand.

satoru can't help but stare at your hand in envy. perhaps if he were the palm of your hand, he’d be able to feel the touch of your lips.

but he couldn’t. he was cursed as a man with an overpowered innate technique, and despite it all he couldn’t even gain the one thing he desired. gojo satoru watched you, eyes filled with a mixture of longing and defeat.

his devastation does not go unnoticed by you.

you were under the impression that he was grumpy because yaga had forced him into cleaning with you.

"cheer up, satoru! if we finish early enough," you continue, your tone highspirited, "we can go to the new crepe shop that opened last week. my treat!" you winked, and that immediately caught his attention.

“like a date?” his eyes sparkled with hope.

you shrug, a smile on your face. “i suppose if you look at it from a certain perspective…”

“great, it’s a date!” 

good things come to those who wait, satoru thinks, humming happily as he starts to sweep the room at an inhumane pace.

maybe in ten years time the two of you will be happily married with eight kids, he smiles to himself.

#kt.writes.·:*¨༺ #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #this is me coping bc of the leaks

[frmisnow]

˙✧˖ ?! — SEVEN MINUTES OF YOUR TIME. - MDNI !!

— ‧₊˚ — 👓 : "Such a little slut, getting wet just from just grinding against me. ” ??

summary. something about your boyfriend working in his glasses... to bad that he has to get a paper done till midnight - maybe if you beg real nicely: he'll spend some of his precious time on you? more over what if you piss him off to the point where he has to teach you a lesson with some of that time?

notes. these pics of jk in those glasses still do smth to me so i had to get this done !!

warnings/includes. (NSFW) switch-ish! jungkook x f! reader, dry humping (against his thigh cause ofc why not?!), cock warming, grinding, 'slut' mentioned (dirty talkk in here), tit/nipple play, switch tendencies for both

"how long again?" you ask once again, a whiny tone audible as your hands slip over your completly oblivious boyfriends shoulders, usually he was faster at comprehending.

leaving you on heard, brows a bit furrowed, his tattoed hands continuing their work on the keyboard, after about a minute his gaze shifted to yours now forming into a almost apologetic expression and very soft like he's dealing with a child, "midnight, baby just wait-" his eyes shift to the laptop clock, "two more hours, can you do that for me?"

You sigh dramatically, resting your chin on his shoulder, your fingers running up ad down his arm, tracing his tattoos like trying to lure him in, "but i miss you so much" pouting just a little, the way you knows he finds endearing as his eyes visibly can't settle between your eyes and lips, "just give me seven minutes"

you can see it in his face, he's fighting with himself, "promise, i'll make it worth it" you add innocently as jungkook's resistance almost crumbles, the way his hands move to your face like he's about to pull you even closer then you already were on his lap, yet he catches himself last minute, a faint grin on his face, "patience, baby"

you can tell that something has changed by his sole tone, now dripping of authority, like a switch has been flipped - that didn't change the fact that you felt like you were drenched, it was almost embarrassing the way you could hypothetically just maybe theoretically by a tiny change: cum by the way he was looking at you or talking to you, the way he was looking overall - the way those glasses looked on him, you wanted needed him to fuck your brain out while wearing them.

but nonetheless you shutted up, resting your head on his shoulder, sighing into his nape every once in a while to remind him that you were there, truthfully you were behaving like a child - but you just needed him so bad, it wasn't fair - you turned your attention towards the clock, 10:09 PM.

you just had to- it was self care, it was to defend yourself from the horny demons inside you, so you grinded yourself against his thick thigh, searching for any type of friction, your own pussy ruining you.

it was easy to feel, see, sense it - how his breath hitched a tad bit, how that one hand that was resting on your hip tightened, how his lip was now poking his cheek from the inside, the thing he always did when he was pissed - or sexually frustrated, "feeling impatient are we?" voice tone nearly mocking yet his fingers on the other hand still typing.

starting to shift his leg, to provide just a hint of pressure against your core. "you like that, baby? the way my thigh rubs against your pussy?" he whispers, his breath hot against her ear, "such a little slut, getting wet just from grinding against me."

and you know that he knows - you could see it in his gaze, that tiny cocky smirk, all the softness from ten minutes ago has long faded, he knows how your pussy feels, he knows your body maybe even better then you do.

another thing that he knows was that you fucking hated begging, pleading and he'll gladly use it against you in any given-

"y'know i think i know what you would like even more, mh?" brushing his almost shoulder length hair out of his face, confidence and authority radiating like he's the king of the world- like he got the world right at his knees, "but you can't get that for free, can't you?"

the one hand that was resting on your hip few seconds prior moving to your face, a silent order to look at him and answer or else no cock for you tonight, the other one momentarily stopping their keyboard work.

your lips slightly part, sensing it deep inside, that little dizzy feeling, that feeling to throw yourself onto him no matter what it costs, that feeling of pure dumbness, of nothing but pure sexual needs completly over tripping any form of morals and sense left in your brain, "need you, need you so bad" you whine, once more grinding onto him.

moving one hanging hair strand behind your ear, like a reassuring gesture, knowing damn well that he's analysing each word, trying to find a loophole to mock you for.

"do you really think you deserve it?" raising his eyebrows - a trick question, there's no right way to answer.

"um...no" your tone quiet, head facing down, maybe he'll feel bad?

"i'd really loveee to be mean, but time is ticking and my dick is throbbing, so- gonna have to make this quick, 'kay?" he looks at you, searching for your consent as you nod immediately, "good"

quick fast hands moving to your hips, lifting you easily so you could sit onto the desk while he took his pants of and those lovely calvin klein boxers - nevermind, to say you were just horny was an understatement, you were practically drooling over his cock, so pretty, so hard, leaking with pre cum, reddened - just for you.

sitting back down onto the chair, leaning back into it so casually like he had all the time in the world when he really didn't, "c'mon what you're waiting for? sit down on it- fuck"

his last words groaned out as you took the chance, pressing down onto him, moaning yourself, at the feeling of his dick already deep inside you, being on top of him just once, pussy instantly clenching around him.

"ride that dick like i know you mean it, cause i know you d- mh-" once more ending in a moan, now sounding more like a whimper when you grind against him, "fuck such a lucky man, no better way to spend my ev-" jolting his head back, onto the back of the gaming chair.

wet sounds and kooks delicious whines echoing through the room, your pussy slamming onto him over and over again, nails digging into his shoulders, "need your pussy juice dripping all over my waist, make those nasty fuckin' sounds, like that, fuck yeah-"

his now veiny hands, moving to grip your hips tightly, the way he knows it'll keep a faint mark but you didn't care, fuck- he could mark you all he wanted, touch you however you wanted, fuck you however, fill you up whenever.

"tits, kook - touch my tits" you pressed out, hips still moving like on their own. usually he would've said something like "where's the please?" or "manners, baby" but this time he just groaned once more, right away commanding to your wish, wrapping his hands around your chest.

"y'know me so well, love these so much" he sounded almost drunk, a little hazy too as he leaned just a small bit forward so that he could wrap his mouth around your bare left tit - sucking, licking, gently biting and repeating it again and again.

your nails digged even further into his skin if that was even possible, you wanted to say something, saying is an overstatement considering you probably couldn't talk when all you could let out were moans over moans. your hands moved from his shoulders to his hair, pushing and pulling when he bit or teased you a little to much as his own needy noises got muffeled against your skin.

he lifted his head from your right tit, his hair now delightfully messed up, a little bit of spit left on your boobs, his eyes more wide, "think i'm gonna cum"

"can i fill you up? need to fill you up, nice and deep, need to-"

putting one of your fingers on his lip, you stop him from finishing, "cum inside me" speeding up your grinding, it was cute- seeing all his put-on authority slip the second he needed you to milk him dry, you'd really love to makefriendly fun of him but you felt your own orgasm fastly approaching.

clenching around him one last time, hips pushing forward one last time as you both come, a mix of cursing and unsensical nonsense leaving his mouth as you felt your walls get coated with his hot cum.

"fuckin' have my babies" he smiled lazily, eyes half lidded when in response you grinned and hit back: "how's the paper going?"

he took in a breath of air, eyes even wider if that was possible, "oh fuck shit-"

"i'm taking this out on you later," hands beginning to furiously start typing on the laptop again, biting his lip, playing with his lip piercing like he always does.

"you better do"

#bts ff #kpop smut #bts fic #bts imagines #bts x you #bts fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Special Episode III

Calm After the Storm

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, profanity, age gap, rut cycle, heat cycle, extreme knotting, marking, scenting, territorial/possessive behaviour, breeding kink, p in v, mating/bonding, multiple climaxes, creampie, belly bulge, actual breeding, let me know if I forgot anything?

Word Count: 6.3k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Happy halloween guys! I know I literally fell off the face of the earth and I will make another post to address that. But I know I haven’t participated for @pandoraslxna ‘s kinktober event (I’m so sorry bby) but if I could only participate for one of the days it would be today for sure. So I definitely wanted to get this out before midnight. It’s not purely a/b/o but honestly entails all the aspects of it. I think we can all definitely tell who’s the alpha and omega here (Ralak is alpha material hands down, ofc). I hope you guys enjoy this one, and I apologize for such a wait <3 Also I feel like I’m a bit rusty, so apologies for any typos, errors, or just plain suckish writing.

ALSO a big happy birthday to my babe @neteyamsoare <3 love you and hope it was a good one!!

Synopsis: Your heat starts to subside, but Ralak’s rut is only getting stronger. What could possibly go wrong?

<- Previous -> Next

——

Only an hour has passed before you feel your not-so-gentle giant stirring behind you, waking you from your sleep. You’d both been on your sides for too long now and everywhere seems to ache. You whine when you feel his hips shift against you, tugging at the immense pressure between your hips. The bulge protruding from your lower abdomen has barely gone down and you feel almost as full as you did when he initially emptied his load inside you.

Silken strands of his hair fall onto your prickled skin as he props himself up on his elbow from behind you, perching his chin on your throbbing shoulder. He inhales deeply – longingly. His hot breath gently blows against your neck just as you feel his arm snake under your leg and yank it back in one rough tug.

“Ralak.” His name falls from your lips through a nearly inaudible croak. “‘m so full.” You barely mumble out, rolling your head to the side. Yet, the flame within you is without a doubt reigniting with a vengeance.

And he can sense it.

Simply by the way you push back into him, making that bulge in your belly protrude a little more. His large hand resting on your stomach can indubitably feel it. And the smile that it puts on his face is almost baleful, bearing his lengthy canines that yearn to sink deep into you once more. “Sorry, tìyawn [love].”

He just can’t help it.

No matter how hard he tried. The desire—no, the need—to fuck into you and claim you as his time and time again is… irrepressible. In this moment, nothing else felt better than your little, used cunt hugging his cock so tightly that it almost hurts. He yearns to fill you over and over. Again and again until your womb is overflowing with his seed. The mere thought has his balls pulling tight to his body, firming up by the second all just to flood your womb again.

“Muntxate [wife].” Ralak growls into your neck, sliding his hand down to your inner thigh. “I will try to be–” He groans slowly, his pointer finger now burrowing itself between your tied pelvises, “–flrr [gentle].”

The final accented word comes out roughly, and if it weren’t for his finger slipping past his knot and into your cunt, you would’ve probably heard it clearly. You yelp out when he traces his finger around his knot, stretching your already taut skin, attempting to work a little space to allow his bulge to slip out.

It's all consuming and you’re simply too overwhelmed with his size that you fail to realise how your body is synced with his and bearing down to push him out. All whilst he’s struggling to fight the snap of hips to avoid hurting you. But the tugging is nothing like you’ve felt before adn you can finally understand why he was so insistent in the first place.

ut there was no getting out of this now, not that you even wanted to.

“It–it’s…” You brace yourself by grabbing onto his forearm, “...t-too big.”

“Ngaytxoa [sorry]” He huffs out his fourth apology, losing himself once again as his hips finally jerk back out of his control.

Pop.

His knot slips out of you with such force that the squelch it makes is as loud as your whimper. It’s so wet and slippery that his cock follows behind his knot, sliding out of you effortlessly. He’s more than half-hard yet so heavy and hung it rests close to your knee. Then you feel it. His cum dribbling down your thigh, still warm and sticky as if he just filled you up seconds ago.

It’s such a conflicting feeling — a mixture of relief and pent up frustration. Your heat is still in full bloom, despite it being so quenched until you’re almost nauseated. It’s as if you were two pieces perfectly linked together, allowing nature to run its course with no second thought. He grunts when he feels the crisp night air against his groin, his cock now springing up to its full length in just a few seconds.

He, too, feels some sort of feverish way now. Itching to be back inside your warmth, enveloped by your gummy, slimy walls. He opts to pepper wet kisses along your neck, and then up to your jaw, lingering there as he tries to distract himself from the ache to shove it back inside you.

Until it becomes too much.

“Tanhì.” He moans into your ear, heavy lidded eyes struggling to stay open as his tongue trails the skin on the back of your neck. “Need you.” It’s his way of begging for permission. Permission to slam his cock back inside you and hammer into you until the annoying itch deep in his core goes away again. You were the only one to make it go away. To stop the hurt. “Please.” He whines out a plea of desperation, now gritting his teeth from the way his stomach is tensing. “Now.”

But that last plea wasn’t much of a question, no. It was more of a demand. A way of saying, ‘give it to me, or I’ll take you on my own terms’.

“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath, sliding your free hand down your side to hook it under your leg. You pull it back and reposition your hips to give him access to your cunt. “P-Put it in, ‘Lak.”

Ralak’s hips begin to stutter — the leaking, mushroomy tip of his cock now repeatedly prodding between your puffed up folds. His breath turns raggedy as he tries to guide himself back inside you handsfree. Your slick is overflowing, making it even more difficult for him to align himself with your entrance. The frustration brewing within him bubbles over when his cockhead glides past your swollen clit instead of sinking in your cunt. So he pulls back in one swift move and —

Thrust.

Your body jolts from how quickly he slams every inch of his cock inside you, forcing you split-open. Ralak huffs a shaky sigh of relief, his breathing growing a little steadier now that he’s deep inside his mate. Meanwhile, your mouth hangs agape yet no sound falls from your lips. Your eyes well up with tears and your ears lay flat against your skull. Your body is in complete submission to the beast dominating it and there’s nothing else you can do but give in to the pleasure.

“Your scent.” He whispers open-mouthed, tips of his canines grazing the nape of your neck. “It is driving me crazy.” You release the breath that you didn’t even realise you were holding. You didn’t even know what to say. Not like you could really say much right now anyways. You’re too lost in the fog of your own heat. For once, Ralak is doing most of the talking. “It makes me…” He snaps his hips back, only leaving half of his length inside you. “...lose myself completely.”

A deep roll of his hips.

A lewd moan dripping off your lips. 

“How do you do that?” He huffs, pressing his teeth against your neck. You don’t answer yet again. You just can’t find the words. Not right now. Not when he’s so deep inside you. “Hm?” A deep growl vibrates up his throat, his teeth just barely piercing the first layer of your silken skin.

“I—” You’re cut off by your own squeal when you feel the sting of his bite. Your breath catches in your throat and he immediately unlatches, lapping at the nicked skin to soothe it. “Sorry.” He whispers breathlessly, planting a quick kiss on each of your marks. “Sorry. Sorry.” A few more apologies flow from his mouth, as if he were drunk off of too much fermented fruit. Somewhat lucid but still so spaced. “I cannot —ngh— help myself.”

Thrust.

“‘M sorry.”

He knows he went a little too deep just now. But you feel so fucking good around his cock.

Chomp.

Another mark. Right on the bend of your shoulder, next to your first.

“Ngaytxoa [I’m sorry]”

A small cry from your quivering lips.

“S-Stop. No more apologies. I am yours to do what you p-please with.” You finally get out in one, weary breath.

Ralak’s languid, deep thrusts are laced with desperation. And with each stroke they become harsher and harsher. Faster and faster. Now he’s got your full permission he lets go once more, falling into the thick fog of his rut.

Within seconds his cock is pumping in and out of you, his half-deflated knot continuously prodding and poking at your entrance. The tip of his cock drags against your walls, putting an immense pressure right on your sweet spot. Yet still, sounds barely fall from your flushed lips. You’re too out of it. Too focused on the raw sensations rippling through you all at once. His overwhelming pheromones. His marking. His relentless pounding.

Rather, hot tears well over your eyes and stream down your face.

He can’t stop slamming himself inside you. He doesn’t want it to stop. It’s absolute rapture and he’s unapologetically drowning in it.

“Tanhì. Tanhì.” He groans needily. “y/n.”

He only says your name when he’s serious about something.

And hearing it drip from his tongue onto the nape of your neck has your hairs standing high and your clit throbbing.

“Eywa. Yes, ‘lak? T-Tell me what you need.” You blubber out, tightening your grip on his forearm.

“Haa — spread yourself.” He demands, prompting you to tuck your leg back as far as you can. His pace quickens, hips striking you with a sinful vengeance. But no matter how hard he fucks you, or how deep he buries himself inside you — its just not enough. He needs to be closer. To be deeper. To really be inside you. To knot you.

“More.” He grunts, slowing his thrusts into rocking, grinding himself inside your slippery, tight cunt.

You go to tug at your leg and meet nothing but resistance. “I-I’m trying.” You can feel it now. Perhaps it’s the bond or maybe it’s the way his knot is working you open but he’s growing more and more frustrated by the thrust.

“Mmmh. Wider.”

“I can’t. I can’t.” You’re quick to answer, feeling nothing but pressure from the way he’s trying to shove more of himself inside you.

“Agh.” He growls in frustration, pulling out of you and grabbing you by the ankle to flip you onto your back.

Ralak situates himself between your legs without hesitation and pushes them so far back your knees graze against the tips of your ears. You can barely breathe in this position and are having a hard time seeing anything else but his raging cock at your entrance. You can feel the burn in your thighs from how far back he’s shoving your knees but that sting is masked by the pleasure of him plunging himself back into your pussy.

The moan that rips from your lips is obscene and like no other. The crown of his cock is drilling itself directly into your sweet spot, causing it to swell with unadulterated pleasure. And each time he pulls out just to sink it back inside you he winds you in the process – making you sputter out absolute nonsense. Even he knows you're close, despite being in the thick of his rut.

But frankly, he doesn't care.

All he’s concerned about is satisfying his own urges.

“Not enough.” He grits through his teeth as his eyes shift to an even deeper shade of mauve. “‘ts not enough.” He pants, voice laced with something of worry. Panic that this feeling won’t go away. It makes you panic too, wondering if you’re doing enough for him. If he’s going to take even more from you. If you can manage it.

“You’re okay. Do what you need.” You try to reassure him, grasping your feet and holding them back–opening yourself up even more. But fuck, that only made things worst for you.

And by worst, you mean better. It feels like you’ll burst any second now, especially with how much pressure is on your bladder. “Fu-ck me. God, fuck–ahaa-fuck me.”

His brows bunch together as he peers down at you, beads of sweat rolling off his face to drip onto your chest. His jaw is so tense it looks as if it may fracture. He’s grunting with every push and huffing with every pull.

“Right there! Fuck. I’m close. I’m so fucking close. I-I need you to cum i-inside me. Oh—please ‘lak. Please!” Your cries are choked and muffled, breaths short and raggedy. The heat pooling in your core is unbearable. It needs out. Now.

Ralak swallows. Hard. Through his own haze he can see that you’re in need too. He shuffles closer to you, tucking his feet under him to assume a squatting position. Now he’s all but on top of you, folding you into a merciless mating press. This one shift in position has you coming undone on his cock, coating it in your thick slick as you sob from the white hot pleasure. The force of your climax has you pushing him out and only has him drilling himself further inside you. If it’s not for the way your pussy walls tighten around him surely his knot would have popped inside you by now.

He’s still fucking into you, right through your orgasm and towards his.

“Say what you need.” He panics through a tightened jaw, grinding himself inside you – pushing his knot against the resistance.

You know what he’s actually asking from you. To say something. Anything to tip him over the edge. To rid him of this maddening itch.

“Breed me.” You whisper, locking eyes with him. You watch as his pupils blow into thin rings and then constrict into nothing but dots. You try to swallow what spit you could, attempting to clear your throat. “Breed me. Please.”

“Then take it.” He lets loose a sinister growl, putting all his weight into his final push. For the first time, you feel his knot pop inside you, veiny and as thick as can be. You let out a high-pitched whimper, and feel your teeth begin to chatter. That doesn’t make him ease up, though. He continues to grind himself inside you until you feel the familiar, warm sensation of his sticky seed spraying inside you – filling your womb to the brim. His cock throbs wildly, in perfect synchrony with his own heartbeat, and soon yours too as the bond equilibrates your souls once more.

Strangely, you thought you’d be sore and overstimulated by now, but your body has never felt better. You’re full and content and more than satiated. Ralak heaves a sigh — one of pure relief. It’s glued to his face. All panic washes away and he’s feeling more at peace the longer he remains inside you. He’s rigid, firmly holding his position on top of you — ensuring he empties every single drop inside you. Yet, his heavy lidded eyes begin to close.

“I can’t breathe.” You mumble, snapping him out of his tranquil trance. His eyes meet yours and the corner of his mouth pulls into a little smirk. He exhales a breathy chuckle and carefully manoeuvres you both into a more comfortable position. He settles himself on his back and supports your body whilst positioning you on top of him.

“Better?” Ralak husks, drawing circles into your back with the tip of his finger.

You take a deep breath, filling your lungs to full capacity and then slowly release it. “Much.”

“Nga yawne lu oer [I love you]” His accented words slur together as he dozes off.

“Nga yawne lu oer, Ralak [I love you].”

——

Ralak woke repeatedly throughout the night for his fill. If it wasn’t him, it was you. Waking up in a clammy state, shaking and nuzzling into his chest from your heat. You honestly thought that the more time passed — the more rounds you went — the more he would calm down.

But, you thought wrong.

He’d start by leaving tender kisses wherever he could, whispering he’d do his best to be as gentle as he can be. Then, he’d slip a finger inside you, stretching you out in attempts to pull his knot out without hurting you. But it would always sting, even just a little bit. After that he’d beg. Pleading with you to let him back in, and apologize right after plunging inside you regardless of your answer—which was always yes.

At this point your own foggy haze would take over. Perhaps it was your body’s way of coping with the overstimulation, but you pined for every single second of it. Sometimes it would last for a few minutes. Where he’d be quick to fold you in two and growl in the shell of your ear, ‘you’re mine, haah — fuck, take me’. 

Sometimes it was closer to an hour. Where you’d both be so tired you’d take breaks, lazily taking turns fucking each other, telling him to ‘put it back in’ whenever he’d slip out. But one thing remained the same every time. You’d sob when you’d cum and then beg him to breed you. And he would, without a doubt, breed you.

Mercilessly.

And with each breeding, he’d lose himself a little deeper. Knotting you over and over. Marking you repeatedly until your body’s littered with bites. Until you were so fucked out you’d lost the feeling in your legs. Until your throat was so dry you could barely speak. Until you needed a break.

——

“Wait.” You crawl towards the bedside table with wobbly knees. “Just need some water, Lak.”

Ralak pounces on you, knocking you onto your stomach and pressing himself against you. You extend an arm out, fingers splayed out and shaking from you trying to reach the cup of water Ka’ani left there more than a day ago. Ralak grabs your hips and hoists you up onto your knees and elbows, and mounts you from behind.

“Water. Water, Lak.” You beg with a hoarse cry, only for him to line the crown of his cock up with your sopping cunt. He growls next to your ear as he stretches over you and reaches for the cup of water, filling his cheeks and putting it back down within a couple seconds. With a quick grip of your jaw, he turns your head and meets his lips with yours.

Before you can process what’s going on you’re gulping down water as fast as you can. And when he pulls away, you’re yet again met with the hazy eyes of his rut. That’s when it dawns on you that whilst your heat is coming to an end, his rut is only getting stronger.

Rather than looking away, he locks his gaze onto you, just so he can watch your face screw as he slams his cock inside of you in one, hard thrust. It works a sudden, breathy moan from your mouth, eyebrows pinching together from the stretch. He holds his position, basking in the warmth and tightness of your cunt as his breath goes shaky.

“Wait.” You mumble weakly, shoving a hand behind you to push against his lower stomach. “Please.”

For the first time, you were telling him to stop.

His jawbone flutters as his eyes search yours. Restraint plasters to his face, and the only audible thing is his heavy breathing. He nods. Just once. A firm and intentional nod. He swallows the residual water left in his mouth and tenderly pulls out of you. You hear the thud of his footsteps quiet down as he nears the marui door, and then the splash of the water when he dives into the rough sea.

It’s pouring outside.

Storming, actually. Thundering and lightning. Yet he feels this is the only way he’d be able to resist the urge to storm back in and fuck you. But the instinct to protect his mate, even if it’s from himself, is more than enough to give him the willpower to walk away.

You take this moment to just breathe, turning your head to face the plush bed beneath you as you gather your thoughts. Did he just show that much restraint? Enough to walk away from a female na’vi during her heat cycle… all whilst in the height of his own rut cycle?

“Lekye’ung [insane]” You mutter, using your trembling hand to grab and bring the cup to your lips. They, too, are sore and chapped. Having gone so many hours without any food or water, you knock it back, shaking the cup to get out every drop. Finished already? You think to yourself, looking inside the cup with hazed vision, confirming it’s indeed empty.

After setting it back down onto the table, you slump back into the bedhead, relaxing your body. You’re sore. Actually, sore is an understatement. Every single muscle and fiber in your body burns—and that isn’t entirely due to your heat either now that it’s finally subsiding. Perhaps you should be taking this time to have a look at your… condition, but you’re finding it harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

So you give in, sinking further and further into the bed as you doze off.

—

A few hours go by and Ralak returns with a net of fish thrown over his shoulder and a bucket of fresh water perched on his hip. He carefully sets down the bucket and rests the net next to the fire pit. He’s cautious not to wake you, nor come too close to you. Ralak ignites the fire and fans the flame. As quietly as possible, he prepares and cooks the fish, setting them aside to wrap in the leaves of a spartan tree.

Since coming to Awa’atltu, one of your biggest adjustments—despite the obvious—has been your change in diet. Fish weren’t uncommon back home, but they certainly weren’t the main source of food. You prefer the other foods here, your favourite being what you call ‘inland boar’, which is an animal that resembles what your father calls a ‘pig’ from his star.

But not even that, (boar) could smell better than this (fish).

The aroma alone rouses you from your sleep.

Your eyes open to a dark room and a glowing fire pit. The fire is out but the wood remains hot, shifting among different shades of orange and red. Ralak sits beside it, with his back leaning against the support beam of the pod. His arms are crossed over his chest and his knees are slightly bent. It’s hard to see more than just his silhouette with the lack of moonlight.

“That smells good.” You rasp. Ralak’s eyes fly open to reveal a familiar shade of deep blue. Like the sea. They glow and flicker before you, examining you now that you’re sitting up out of bed.

Crack.

A bolt of lightning strikes in the distance, illuminating the room. For a moment, you were able to see every single bike mark, scratch and bruise you’ve given him. It also reveals that he’s shaking. Trembling from being wet and cold, or possibly from the strain he was putting himself through from just being in the same room as you.

Ralak moves quickly, shuffling to his feet and going right for the leaf that holds a few sloppily rolled fish. He brings it to you, setting it slowly on your lap, being overly cautious not to touch you. Grabbing your cup on the table, he dunks it in the bucket and sets it beside you.

“Eat.” He whispers, backing away to sit next to the pit. You watch as he slides down the beam and into a sitting position, and then glance down at your food. Saliva pools in your mouth from the aroma wafting up your nose.

You’re hungry.

“Thank you.” You say quietly, hastily stuffing an entire roll into your mouth.

You moan as you chew, nodding your head from how good it tastes. It’s hard to swallow, given that you bit off more than you could chew—literally—but when it finally goesdown you feel your stomach grumble for more. Ralak watches you intently. A wince screwing his face with every swallow he witnesses. And when you finish, you chug down your water and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

Another crack of lightning strikes, and then a low, lengthy rumble of thunder follows.

“That was… one of the best you’ve made, lak.” You say with a wobbly smile, slowly getting on your feet to wash your hands. The bucket is nearby your mate, who is still fixed in position. Although he remains unmoving, his eyes follow your every move. You shake your hands to dry them and shuffle over to Ralak and sit next to him.

“so… how do you feel?” You ask quietly, raising your hand to check if he’s feverish. He turns his head before your hand can make contact with his skin and his gaze locks onto the charred wood in the fire pit. 

“Fine.” Ralak mutters.

Eyebrows pinching in confusion, you tilt your head to try and look him in the eye. Your brows relax when you come to the realisation that he’s already taken care of himself. And only Eywa knows how many times.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that. I would have—”

“Ma’ muntxate [my wife]”He croaks, swiftly turning his head to look directly into your eyes. “Oeru txoa livu [please forgive me].”

“Txoa? [forgive?] What for, ma’ muntxatan? [husband]”

“I have… neglected you.” He’s struggling to speak. You can hear it in the strain of his voice.

Regardless, none of his words are really making any sense to you right now. How has he been neglectful? Despite the circumstances, it’s obvious he’s been trying his hardest to be good to you. Somehow, even conjuring up the strength to pull out of you and walk away.

“Ralak. You have not. Please, I—”

“Look at yourself.” He snaps, taking a quick glance at your body before dropping his head in his hands.

Crack.

Conveniently, another strike of lightning and boom of thunder, revealing exactly what he’s talking about. For a few seconds, you’re met with the sight of your battered body—scabbed and bruised. You lift your head, staring at his shameful demeanour. But the more you stare, the more you see your own reflection.

“And have you looked at yourself?” Your words bounce as you shuffle closer to him. “I bet you can’t even feel all that damage I’ve done to you.” You coo, using your thumb to gently graze past an easy six-inch scratch mark on his bicep. “I haven’t been so gentle with you either.”

Ralak shakes his head, allowing it to sink further into his hands. “You were starved.” He mumbles into the palms of his hands.

You sigh, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin in the dip between them. Your eyes wander over to the fire pit, catching sight of the outline of a few fish rolls.

Has he really punished himself by not eating?

“Have you eaten?” You ask, resting a gentle hand on his back.

“No need.”

“You should, you know. Don’t want you starving on me, lak.” You say lightheartedly, allowing your hand to slide up his spine and to the base of his skull.

He lets loose a quiet groan, fighting the twitch of his ears. Your fingers smooth over the base of his kuru, playing with the braid encasing that covers it. “If you do that—”

“Do what?” You whisper coyly, quickly running your hand down the length of his kuru.

His spine immediately straightens, his head lifting from his hands. The tips of your fingers gently make their way to his tendrils, carefully teasing them as they try to wrap around your digits. He sucks in a sharp breath and closes his eyes, allowing a shiver to run through him. It feels like your fingers were inside his skull, tickling his brain in the best way possible. 

Reaching for your kuru with your free hand, you bring it up and over your shoulder. You lean into Ralak, your lips only inches away from his. You pull away your fingers to grip and pull his queue forth. The loss of contact has him sitting up straight, opening his eyes to look at you.

“I will not let you suffer alone.” You whisper, lessening the distance between the two of you, tilting your head to the side ever so slightly. He stills himself, even limiting his own breath so as not to make any sudden moves. “Okay?”

You wait for just a moment. For him to say something. To move away. But he remains stock-still, waiting for you to initiate this. You smile, your top teeth briefly rubbing against this lower lip, and lock your lips with his. He exhales through his nose, coming to life from your kiss and returning it full force. You take this as a good sign. A sign that you’ve broken through that wall once again, and bring your kurus together — making tsaheylu [the bond].

Both your eyes fly open, blown pupils staring into one another as your spirits unify. You both pull back, shoulders and chests heaving from your quick, unsteady breaths. You feel all that he feels – the frustration, the panic, the tension. It’s all fading, now finally nearing the end. He feels your subsiding heat, your soreness, your overpowering urge to care for him.

Before another second could pass, your lips crash into each other again—tongues intertwining as they explore one another’s mouth. Using his hand to support your upper back, he slowly lowers you onto the woven floor, parting your legs with his free hand. He situates himself between them, pressing his crotch firmly against yours. He’s warm, just like the toasty fire pit next to you.

I will try to be gentle. Ralak thinks to you, just like he’s been promising to be night after night.

I know you will. You smile, moving your kisses down his jawline as he slides his hands between your sticky pelvises.

——

It hasn’t even been two full weeks since the synchronous heat that had you and your mate locked away in your marui pod for a little over two days. Your back and thighs–and honestly everywhere else– still ache but outside of that, you feel like a brand new person. You weren’t able to confidently say that Ralak feels the same way, however.

Of course, he was adamant on limiting intimacy until you were ‘healed and recovered’. But, he had a bounce in his step. As if he were physically lighter. As if the weight of six years of pent up sexual frustration and self neglect melted off his back when you satiated the ‘insatiable’.

The constant aftercare was almost sickening. Even after most of your marks had faded he remained adamant on treating them with your own omaticayan herbs from back home. He praised them at every use, thanking your people for making such exceptional ’umtsa [medicine].

But as you entered the second week, after tons of reassurance, things dissipated and went back to normal. Ralak went back to his usual routine—fishing, hunting, responding to a few calls to Tonowari and your father. Ralak, without a doubt, made a vow to you and himself not to initiate anything until you were more than healed. But nonetheless clung to you in the nights.

He even, in fact, added a new step into your usual nighttime regimen. As usual, it began with the snuggles and tucking you under his arm just right, providing you with enough warmth to endure the cool night air. Then, he would release the perfect amount of pheromones to get you drowsy enough for bed.

But recently, he’s spent the past seven nights delaying the nightly routine until he’s had his fill of your scent. He’d lay himself down on your chest, nuzzling his face into your bosom and just breathe. You allowed it, thinking it was his own newfound way to wind down for bed.

Yet, the real reason was much different.

——

Right on the two week mark, Tsireya had roped you in with helping her with some of her Tsakrem duties. You were always happy to help her though, as it meant getting away from the marui pod for a little even if it meant being poked and prodded at.

And it certainly didn’t take long for that to happen.

Tsireya lets out a frustrated sigh and plops the medicinal pouch she’s weaving in her lap.  “I can no longer ignore it, y/n. You smell different.”

You lift your head, tearing your focus from your task of weaving and look at her with a puzzled expression on your face. You bring the end of your tail to your nose and sniff, but smell… nothing. “Like what?” Her brows lower and her eyes glisten with concern. She purses her lips and unsheathes the lengthy pin from its casing and grabs your hand. “Here we go.” You mutter to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut as you anticipate the sting.

Prick.

“Sss—ah! You need to be careful with how deep you go with that, you know. You could really—” The tsahik in training puts the wooden stick to her tongue and stares at you wide eyed, mouth agape. It’s as if she wants to speak but the words are lodged in her throat. “What? What is it?”

“You—perhaps I am wrong.” She stutters, quickly sheathing the tool back into its casing. “You should see my mother, y/n.”

“What? Why? Just tell me.” The words come out in a haste, and your voice is laced with panic. Do you have some sort of disease of the sea? Is there a cure? 

“You — you are with child.” Her lips tremble as she says the words in an uncertain tone of voice.

“What?” You stare at her dumbfounded, a little caught off guard by her choice of words.

“Pregnant. You’re pregnant. But I am likely mistaken. I am only in training. Which is why I said you should see my moth—”

“Oh. No. You’re… you’re probably right, Tsireya.” You swallow the spit pooling in your cheeks, avoiding eye contact.

“H-How? I mean. I know how. But how? Surely Ralak knows not to do such a thing during your heat. He can control himself. R-Right?”

“Right. If I were the only one… in heat.” You say the last few words under your breath, fixing your shawl before picking back up your task.

“What do you mean?” Tsireya leans in with a tilted head, looking a little closer at your covered shoulder. “Did you help him with his rut?” Tsireya asks bluntly. “He’s been unmated for six years, y/n. Did you reall—”

“I am his mate. Of course I did.” You nearly snap, baffled by the tone she’s having with you.

“H-How did that even work?” Tsireya shakes her head, slowly raising her hand towards you.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You finally lift your head to shoot her a puzzled, yet offended stare. “It worked like it would for any other Na’vi.”

“Y/n…” Tsireya quickly grabs your shawl, pulling it off your shoulder to reveal a large, deep and scabbed up bite mark. It looks almost infected because of the strange omaticayan herbal concoction smeared over it. “You should have just let him ease you into it. Look at you, you’re all bruised and—”

“Tsireya.” You interject, “thank you for the concern, but—” you aggressively pull up your shawl, “I feel just fine. Besides, being in heat was the best way to ‘ease me into it’…He was as gentle as he could be.” You mutter, twiddling with the twine as you think back to the way he tried to handle you with care.

“By the looks of it, he was anything but gentle with you.” Tsireya seethes, angry that the man she grew up looking at like a brother would do something like this to you.

You wince at her words. They’re like a knife to the heart.

A long, awkward silence fills the space between you and Tsireya. She reflects on everything she’s said, realising that perhaps she was a little more harsh than needed. She softens her gaze, “I’m sorry. I should not have said that. I just hate seeing you hurt.”

“I get it. I know you’re just looking out for me. It’s alright, ‘reya.”

You exchange lighthearted smiles.

“You are definitely pregnant then. After six years, he must have really filled you—”

“Tsireya!” You laugh, giving her shoulder a light shove.

Tsireya’s grin morphs into a more serious expression. “See mother to make sure. Okay?”

Your smile also fades into something softer as you nod your head in agreement. “Okay.”

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[sim0nril3y]

i love your works!!

now that soap knows sort of about civilian reader, how would they both react to meeting one another? Perhaps after a mission, Simon has to take him to their house since it’s close by and there they meet. I can imagine Johnny jokingly flirting with reader jus to rile Simon up

Note: Thank you so much for your request! I love, love, love it! Love these boys together and all the trouble they get into and love how Johnny just seems to be able to push his buttons. Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), established relationship, taunting and teasing, tiny illusion to smut, canon typical swearing.

It was probably a mixture of exhaustion and anxiousness to see you that had Simon not thinking straight when he climbed off the plane with Johnny. Circumstances had it that the barracks were completely full to the brim, the last train home for Johnny was an hour ago and a certain sense of guilt had Simon suggesting “We got a spare room…” The moment Simon said it, he regretted it.

It had been a gruelling four months away from you and all he had come to adore at the home you shared together, whilst he had wanted to spend time alone with you now he was basically bringing home a drooling labrador in the form of his Sergeant. Johnny’s eyes brightened up like it was Christmas and he mentioned. “That means I get t’meet your missus, LT.” Simon was completely stumped for any response, simply his shoulders sagged.

“You breathe a word about this or her to anyone else, I’ll make sure you don’t make it back from our next mission.” It was a threat, but an empty one and Johnny knew that for certain.

It was way past midnight by the time that Johnny and Simon arrived at his home. They quietly clambered from the car and up the path towards the house. Simon had warned you not to wait up for him, but from here he could see that the living room light was on which meant you hadn’t listened to him. Using the key to open the door before he even put his bags down on the floor, he heard your footsteps approach hastily, excited to see him, having practically no contact for almost four months was difficult.

“Si…” You rushed to wrap your arms around him, Simon wrapped his body tight around your own, burying his face into your throat and inhaling sharply, burying his nose into your scent to try and wash away all the horror that he’d witnessed whilst away. “Missed you so much.” You whimpered into his skin and then jumping. “Oh, uh…” It was clear you’d seen Johnny lingering over his shoulder then. “Hi.”

Tugging away from Simon, he took a step aside allowing you to see Johnny fully. “Hello ma’am.” He nodded his head at you then, Simon wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Johnny act so respectful before. Odd, he thought. “Jus’ got back from a mission. Y’fella ‘ere said I could borrow a room f’the night. Hope it won’t be too much trouble.”

A little of startled surprise crossed your face. “You work with Simon?” You asked then and Johnny nodded in confirmation. “You can stay as long as you want if you tell me everything about Si whilst he’s away from home.” You announced causing Simon to gift you a tested look but it only caused Johnny to chortle lowly and reply. “I tell y’everything I know ‘bout Si.” The use of his nickname that was reserved for you fell from Johnny’s lips and those narrowed daggers looked to him aggressively.

“Time for bed.” Simon commanded lowly then, hands placed on your shoulders to spin you in the direction of the stairs and ushering you up then, even as you argued that you needed to find some sheets for the spare room Simon still urged you up the stairs and as far away from Johnny as he could manage. This night couldn’t be over quick enough.

It was like some bad dream as Simon awoke that next morning to your side of the bed long cold beside him and the sound of your distant laughter floating through the house. Bloody hell. Originally, he had planned on waking up, rolling you gently onto your side and slipping into your wonting cunt, but instead you were entertaining another one downstairs, leaving him longing and lonely in the bed you shared.

Simon was dreading whatever stories that Johnny had decided to fill your pretty head with. There was reasons Simon kept you separate from you his work life, mostly for your safety but also because he was a different person there than he was in the comfort of your shared home. He felt safe and secure in these walls and around your presence, with work he built up walls which you had seemingly knocked down in mere weeks of knowing him.

Clambering from bed Simon tugged on some shorts and lumbered downstairs to join the chatter. It was much too lively for an early Saturday morning. “My, my… Lt never mentioned jus’ how talented you are, lass.” That thick Scottish accent announced making his eyes narrow, rounding the counter to see Johnny observing the artwork that adorned the kitchen walls. “Matter fact, don’t think he’s uttered a single word ‘bout you.”

“Likewise.” You responded with ease then before beaming a smile at the presence of Simon in the doorway. “Morning, Lt.” Johnny began. “Morning babe, want a cuppa?” Your voice was pleasant and sweet, even at this time. “Mm.” He moved then to take a seat at the table as you got to work making him a morning brew just the way he liked. “I hope MacTavish ain’t been giving you too much grief…” He commented, flicking a hard look in Johnny’s direction.

A delicate laugh came from you then. “Don’t be silly.” Approaching him with the tea and placing it on the kitchen table for him. “Not at all, Lt.” Johnny continued. “Y’lass and I’ve been gettin’ on like a house on fire.” Then grinning as he sat opposite him. “Bonnie was just tellin’ me ‘bout the train strikes…” Simon glared at him. “Kindly offered me the room until things clear up again.”

After taking a long sip of his tea Simon said coldly. “I’ll pay for a taxi, or a plane… whatever gets you out of my house faster.” Then earning a hard look from you across the room. “Don’t be rude.” You scolded him with a stern look, completely unphased by Simon’s attitude Johnny did grin at the way that you spoke to his Lieutenant, practically only Price could speak to Simon like that. “John, you are more than welcome to stay with us as long as you need to.” Then throwing a tested look in Simon’s direction. “Isn’t that right, babe.”

“Is it, Lt?” Johnny uttered feigning some innocence Simon knew was fake. Instead of biting back Simon simply nodded and mustered a small. “Mm.” In response, simply plotting his revenge sometime in the future. “Mighty kind of you.” The Scotsman grinned and looked towards you. “Oh and lass, call me Johnny, please.” Followed by a playful wink. This was going to be a rough few days.

Masterlist | Ask | 27-01-2024

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon riley imagine #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #ghost call of duty #simon riley x y/n #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #simon ghost riley x you #ghost mw3 #ghost x y/n #ghost x you

[sv5hive]

c'est toujours toi | cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

content warning(s): mixture of my bad french and google translate bcos in 5 years of learning that language i didn't pick up anything useful (if anyone wants to suggest any improvements please do!!)

word count: 951

note: i had to rewrite this 3 times bcos i didn't like it and it's past midnight again. help.

(masterlist!)

darkness encapsulated the room before a video flickered onto the screen and the guests fell silent. a sense of familiarity filled you as you realised just what you were about to watch.

"maman, arrête! c'est bon!" (mum, stop! it's fine!)

the boy pushed his mothers hands away trying to adjust his clothes.

"d'accord! mais c'est ton mariage." (ok! but it's your wedding.)

as much as the woman wanted to take her son seriously, she couldn't help but laugh at the situation.

they were enjoying a picnic in the park as a family when their three sons decided to go wander off and give their parents some relief. it hadn't even been fifteen minutes when their middle child had come tumbling back towards them saying that he was going to get married.

they had almost laughed but the boy was showing no hint of amusement on his face. it was then that their two other children returned with a little girl wearing a pink dress in the middle of them. once they reached them, the boy introduced her.

"c'est ma petite amie!" (this is my girlfriend!) he proudly showed her off to his parents as if to prove a point that he wasn't just telling tales this time.

his parents simply stared at the pair in disbelief and shock.

a tiny, almost inaudible, "bonjour" came from the girl as she fiddled with the hem of her dress. they could barely hear her over the birds chirping.

"charles! tu ne peux pas faire ça. où sont ses parents?" (charles! you can't do that. where are her parents?) his mother wasted no time in scolding the three boys for taking the girl away from her family.

before anyone else could reply, the girl came to their defence.

"mes parents sont à la maison. désolé de vous inquiéter, madame leclerc, mais on peut se marier maintenant?" (my parents are at home. sorry to worry you, mrs. leclerc, but can we get married now?)

"tu es sûre que, chérie? charles est un garçon très désordonné!" (are you sure, darling? charles is a very messy boy!)

"papa!" the boy blushed at his father embarrassing him for fun.

"je vais lui apprendre à ranger, ne vous inquiètez pas!" (i'll teach him how to clean up, don't worry!)

the two adults went along with the plans to make them happy and began preparing for an impromptu wedding as best they could. his father would walk her down the aisle, his younger brother would be his best man while his older brother would be the officiant, and his mother would record the special occasion on their camera.

an imitation of 'here comes the bride' was attempted and although it was pretty much unrecognisable, you could take a well educated guess given the circumstances. the boy's father leaned down to hold the girl's hand as he walked her down the makeshift aisle with daisies and buttercups sprinkled over the grass. she whispered a quiet "merci" and soon enough the bride and groom were face to face with each other.

the older boy quickly stepped into his improvised role of the officiant with what little knowledge he had and introduced the few guests to the ceremony. after all the formalities, it was finally time for vows.

"je promets de toujours t'aimer comme ma maman et mon papa. je jouerai avec toi tous les jours et te donnerai tous mes jouets." (i promise to always love you like my mum and dad. i will play with you every day and give you all my toys.)

the boy reached out to hold the girl's hands and bumbled through his vows which only included everything that was important to him, of course.

the girl blushed and went ahead with her vows which were just as innocent and clumsy as his were.

"je promets de t'aider à nettoyer tes bêtises et de vous soutenir lorsque vous deviendrez pilote de course!" (i promise to help you clean your messes and support you when you become a racing driver)

despite only having met an hour beforehand, the two had clearly bonded and learnt much about each other.

"vous pouvez maintenant embrasser la mariée!" (you may now kiss the bride!)

cheers erupted as the boy took a brave step forward and pecked the girl's cheek to her pleasant surprise.

whistles and claps echoed through the room from your family and friends as the screen faded to black and the lights were switched back on. the reception was just starting and the guests had left their tables to eat, dance and mingle. the bittersweet nostalgia had brought tears to your eyes and you had to blink them back to be able to see clearly. you couldn't believe you had forgotten the day you two met.

you were brought back down to earth when you felt a hand squeeze yours.

"tu va bien, ma chérie?" (are you okay, darling?)

you turned to the man beside you and squeezed his hand back before replying.

"ouais, mon amour. je ne pourrais aller mieux. regarde comme on était petit!" (yes, my love. i couldn't be better. look how little we were!)

charles laughed and kissed your temple. sometimes he found it hard to believe how lucky he was to find you that day. he found it even harder to believe that you two were finally married now. after years of friendship and not so secretly pining for each other, he had finally been bold enough to make a move.

"dès que je t'ai vu, j'ai su que j'allais t'épouser. c'est toujours toi, mon trésor." (as soon as i saw you, i knew i was going to marry you. it's always you, my treasure.)

#cl16 #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #formula 1 imagine #charles leclerc fic

[elvensorceress]

not quite tuesday tidbit teases

it's probably tuesday somewhere and this just popped in my head and I wanted to share. what do you think? do we want more?

tagging if any of you want to share something 😘 @hippolotamus @eddiebabygirldiaz @messyhairdiaz @rainbow-nerdss @tizniz @spotsandsocks @daffi-990 @monsterrae1 @diazsdimples @watchyourbuck @wh0re-behavi0r @911onabc @chaosandwolves @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @rogerzsteven @epicbuddieficrecs @bekkachaos @fiona-fififi @wikiangela @exhuastedpigeon @the-likesofus @hoodie-buck @lover-of-mine @mikereads @jesuiscenseedormir @lemonzestywrites 💕

It’s just after midnight and Buck is going to bed. 

He’s been saying this for a couple hours but YouTube had too many AItA videos and Instagram had those gorgeously edited food recipe posts and he doesn’t even want to talk about the doomscrolling of TikTok. But he had a day off and it was supposed to be with Tommy so they could take the weekend and go somewhere fun and romantic, but then Tommy had to work. Buck could’ve gone in with the rest of A shift. But it was nice to have some alone time for himself so he took time for himself. 

His phone goes off with a call five seconds after he’s gotten into bed. It’s a number he doesn’t know. So he could ignore it. Or wait until they’ve left a message. But who would call at this hour for no reason? Or for scamming, telemarketing reasons? 

So Buck answers. 

“Buckley?” The man on the other end says. He sounds vaguely familiar but not enough that Buck came put a name or face with a voice. 

“Uh, yeah? Who is this?” 

“Mehta. Captain Mehta. Of the 133.”

“Oh, hey,” Buck says, automatically friendly and smiling. That makes sense now. “What’s up? Why the— why are you calling?” Why would he call in the middle of the night?

Why does anyone call in the middle of the night.

“Buckley,” he says and it sounds… it sounds… it sounds like…

They have him now. They’ll take care of him. Why don’t we get you cleaned up. He’s in good hands. They’ll rush him to surgery. You don’t have to worry. Let’s get you cleaned up. 

Lets get you cleaned up.

Buck can’t breathe. His whole body is cold. Frozen. 

He tries to get out of bed. He tries, but just slides to the floor beside it. He doesn’t make it any further.

“Buckley, there was a helicopter crash. Your team, our team we went to rescue the pilot. Your, uh, sorry, I don’t know what you call him, but your boyfriend? Life partner? He—”

Oh god. No. No, that’s not. That’s not happening. That is not what is happening right now. This can’t be a, Tommy is dead and I’m letting you know. It can’t be that. It’s not. They were going to—

They were supposed to have a romantic trip together. Wine tasting and some kind of museum Tommy thought Buck would love and maybe a visit to a hot springs up north and they were going to watch the sunset and the sunrise and—

And he can’t be dead. He can’t be.

“He’s alive,” Mehta says. “We’re at Cedars-Sinai. He’s alive, but. It doesn’t look good. He’s in the ICU now. He’s critical.”

Buck pushes himself up. Has to. He has to be there. 

He barely remembers to thank Mehta or even end the call before he switches off his phone and runs out the door. 

~

The drive is a blur. The drive is probably very illegal and he doesn’t know how he doesn’t crash, but he doesn’t have time to wait for an Uber or for anyone else. He runs as fast as possible to the ER lobby, and almost runs directly into Chimney. 

Not almost. Buck crashes into him and almost knocks them both to the floor but that almost actually is an almost because Chim somehow steadies them both. 

He’s pale. Shaken up. His eyes are red. He’s been crying. 

“Chim,” Buck says as broken as he feels. “Chim, where— where is he? What happened? How did this happen? Please tell me he’s okay. He can’t be dying, right? That can’t be happening?”

Chim opens his mouth and grips Buck’s arms tighter, still trying to steady him. “Buck, we— we don’t know yet. It was bad, but he’s tough. You know that. He could be fine.”

Buck lets out a broken whimper and backs away from him. “No. He is fine. He’s fine and this isn’t happening. I just— Chim, I just found him. I can’t lose him already.” 

There’s a flash of something on Chimney’s face but there’s movement around Buck, too. Other people. Bobby, he’s pretty sure. And Hen. They would be here. They would try to comfort him. But they don’t need to because it’s fine. Everything is fine and this isn’t happening. 

It can’t be happening. 

He can’t be dying.

There’s more movement and it’s all blurry, probably filtered through tears, but then everything stops. The world stops. 

Tommy is right in front of him. Whole, alive, real, a little rumpled and there are bloody scratches and bandages on his face and around his arm. But he’s here. He’s fine.

Buck slams into him, throws his arms around him, and sobs as he clutches him. 

“Baby,” Tommy says softly as he hugs Buck tightly, cradling him, comforting him, and Buck can breathe. He’s not frozen. Everything is okay. They were all wrong. Buck knew they were wrong. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Tommy tells him and holds him tighter. 

Buck pulls back just to look at him. “No, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He takes a deep breath and smiles because Tommy is fine. He’s right here and everything is good. Buck touches Tommy’s battered face and caresses him gently. He’s bruised and also pale, and very soggy. It’s been stormy tonight. Another reason why Buck wasn’t all that eager to go out in it. “They told me—  fuck, they scared me. I thought— I thought I lost you. I was so scared. I don’t want to lose you. He told me—Mehta, Captain Mehta— he called and told me there was a helicopter crash and my boyfriend was in the ICU and he’s critical and it didn’t look good, and I can’t— god, I can’t. Tommy, I—”

Tommy’s face isn’t good. It’s pale. Bad. Not smiling. Not relieved. It falls and he can’t even hide the devastation on it. He looks like guilt and death, and his mouth moves but nothing comes out. “Evan,” he finally says, barely says. It’s too quiet, too broken. “Evan…”

No. No, Buck doesn’t like that. He doesn’t want to throw up right now. And he just might. His heart is rabbit speed lightning and his legs don’t exist anymore and there’s an awful blackhole of apocalyptic world-ending destruction swirling and growing in his stomach. 

Someone takes his arm. Someone needs his attention. He’s moved from Tommy’s arms because there is no safety or comfort anymore. There’s no relief. There’s no happily ever after, nothing will ever be okay. 

Buck knows why Mehta said what he said. He knows who isn’t here. He knows who would have come to him and immediately comforted him. 

He knows. 

He knows what this is now. It can’t be that. It can’t. Buck doesn’t know anything.

Hen tells him. She holds his arm and says calmly even if it’s broken. Everything is broken. They’re all broken. “Buck. It’s Eddie.”

No. No, it isn’t. It isn’t that either. Buck really can’t take that. It was bad enough, unimaginable enough the other way. It can’t be this. 

He’s already done this. They did this before. More than once. Forty plus feet of cruel earth and a whirling burst of metal and blood all over him. 

Eddie’s blood was all over him. 

“The helicopter went down and got stuck on the cliffs. He went in so he could pull Tommy out, and we got Tommy out,” Hen tells him, every word a knife stabbing through both of them. All of them. 

“He saved me,” Tommy says, quiet and full of regret. “He saved me and went down with it. They thought it was stable enough. It wasn’t. They got him out after. But…”

Buck collapses to his knees on the floor and holds his head in his own hands as if he can somehow hold himself together when there’s no holding himself together. 

It’s Eddie.

It’s Eddie it’s Eddie it’s Eddie. 

Buck shatters like flimsy glass and sobs in all the pieces that are ripped out of him. What about Chris? What about Abuela? What about Eddie’s parents and sisters and friends and everyone else who loves him?

What about Buck? They can’t be BuckandEddie without Eddie. 

“I need to see him,” Buck suddenly says to the closest person who will listen. “I need to be with him. Please. Please.”

There’s arguing that happens. Bobby yells at someone. Hen, Chim, and Tommy stay around him like a protective guard. Until someone finally agrees. He’s not in surgery, they can’t take him to surgery yet. He’s not stable enough. But he’s on a ventilator, life support. They warn him and Buck doesn’t care. He knows how bad these things can be. He’s lived through several. 

They give him five minutes. 

They’ll have to drag him out with an armed guard if they think Buck will agree to only that. But at least it’s something. 

It’s something. 

Eddie is mostly covered. Blankets, wires, tubes, IV lines, bandages. He’s paler than all of them. Slightly blue-purple, cyanotic. They tell him a few things but Buck can’t hear them. He just wants to be with Eddie. 

Buck sits beside him and rests a shaking hand over Eddie’s hand, under the blankets where it’s trying to be warm. Buck would give anything to keep him warm, and alive. 

Eddie needs to stay alive. He needs to. 

Buck rests his forehead on the side of the bed near their joined hands. He would say something if he had the capacity to form words and sentences. The only thing in his head right now is, don’t leave me, please don’t leave me.

And that’s probably all he can say. All that really matters. 

Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, please, don’t ever leave me.

(read now on AO3)

#tease tidbit tuesday #jenwyn wip #buddie wip #mentions of #bucktommy #but this is me okay lol anything and everything is about buddie #911 #buddie #fic: if i should fall

[thelov3lybookworm]

Remember Me? (Part five)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: Under the Mountain, Y/n met the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She was scared of him, but soon she found out that he wasn't who he pretended to be. Despite her efforts at not falling in love with him, she fails. It's not that bad as he loves her back.

But now he's gone, and she's left alone with nothing.

Except for a very adorable reminder of him.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: secret pregnancy, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: after this, I won't be tagging future parts as Rhysand x reader because this is turning into an eris x reader fic. Also, I'm sorry that it took me so long to post this! I'll try my best to be more frequent with updates ❣️

•○🌑○•

A loud squeal broke the silence, waking Y/n from her nap.

She groaned, turning her head, trying to bury her face in the pillow in hopes that it would drown out the noise of laughter and feet chasing around the house.

It was useless.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes before she squinted at the window, trying to gauge how long she had slept. The sun was high overhead when she had gone to sleep, and judging by its position now, she had slept for an hour at best.

Standing, she stretched. She looked around the room once as she pulled her hair up into a messy bun before she went downstairs.

The noise became louder and louder as she descended the stairs. Fin came running towards her, his little body slamming into her legs making her wobble dangerously. By the time she had regained her balance, he came into view.

At some point, he had discarded his heavy embroidered tunic, choosing to stay in the simple inner white shirt he wore. The shirt was thin, almost sheer, and a simple rope crisscrossing over Eris's chest held the garment together.

His gaze rose from Fin's body to Y/n's eyes, his grin faltering as he slowed down, panting. He gave her a quick once over, his eyes flickering to hers again. But then he grinned, returning his attention back to Fin.

"May I ask what the two of you are doing?" Y/n gently ran her fingers through Fin's soft white hair, slightly damp with sweat, her other hand resting on his shoulder.

He grinned up at her, his chin resting on her stomach as his hands clutched at her dress tightly. "We are playing. He is a soldier and I am the criminal. After he catches me, I will become the soldier and he the criminal."

Y/n smiled. "Are you not tired?"

Fin shook his head vigorously, his eyes sparkling.

Eris cleared his throat. Both mother and son looked at him. "I was wondering... if I could take Fin out?"

Y/n cocked her head. "Why?"

Eris shrugged. "I just thought it would be fun."

Y/n studied Eris.

It had been almost a month since that night when he had showed up at her door at midnight, and so far, he'd visited Fin almost everyday. Y/n was still trying to figure out why Eris was so interested in her son. She couldn't, for the life of her, make sense of Eris.

But his intentions didn't seem bad, so that was... a good thing?

Finally, she nodded, sighing. "Go. Have fun."

The hope on Fin's face turned into joy, and he turned to Eris with the biggest grin on his face. Eris returned it, grabbing the little boy's hand and sprinting off towards the living room.

"We'll be back soon!" Eris called out, and Y/n watched as he buttoned the last button on his tunic and led Fin out of the house. Or rather, Fin dragged Eris out of the house, the red haired male laughing at the youngling's enthusiasm.

A small smile bloomed on Y/n's face, and she had to make a conscious effort to wipe it off her face as she set to make dinner.

•○🌑○•

Y/n paused with her teacup midway to her mouth as a knock sounded on the door. It hadn't been all that long since Fin and Eris had left, and she wondered if it was them. By the excitement in Eris's eyes, Y/n had figured it would be quite some time before they returned.

The knock came again, more confident this time, and Y/n rushed to stand from the couch. "Coming!"

She set her cup on the center table, walking briskly towards the door.

And then she opened the door.

Which was honestly not the best choice, she decided as soon as she got a glimpse of who stood on the other side. She wondered if it would have been better if she just pretended that no one was home instead of screaming to let her guest know she was coming.

The only thing that kept her from slamming the door shut in his face was his appearance.

He looked like he'd been through hell.

And if Y/n was the one saying it, then it was a serious issue, because she had seen him go through literal hell under the mountain. She had seen him at his worst, and she still had never seen him this haggard.

She studied him, her hand tightening on the door handle.

There were dark circles under his eyes, so dark they made him look a little pale. Or maybe he had gone pale. His eyes were tired, no light in his those beautiful purple orbs Y/n had once adored so much.

"Y/n..."

The hoarseness in his voice snapped her out of the haze that had fallen over her, and she began to close the door.

But she couldn't do it because Rhysand's hand snapped out, his palm flat against the wood of the door. "Please, Y/n, I just want to talk. Please."

The sadness, the guilt in the once smooth, now rough voice gave her pause.

She wondered what to do. Her heart told her to let him in, not only into the house but in her and her son's life. Her brain scoffed at her heart's pathetic response and told her to slam the door shut in the bastard's face.

After a moment of contemplating, she decided to let him into the house, and her brain shook its head at her.

But the grateful look in his eyes prompted her to ignore her sane mind.

She shut the door behind her, watching quietly as Rhysand took in the toys lying haphazardly throughout the room, the papers drawn on with crayons, the chocolate stains on a shirt of Fin lying nearby. Y/n hadn't even noticed the shirt lying there. Maybe Eris had changed Fin's clothes when Y/n was sleeping.

She watched as Rhysand swallowed, his throat bobbing. There was so much emotions swirling in his eyes, Y/n had the urge to pull him in for a hug and never let go, whispering promises of forever and a family in his ear, just like before.

Just like before, when Feyre hadn't existed in their lives and it was just the two of them, keeping each other alive and sane under the mountain.

Y/n sighed, pushing those thoughts away. She couldn't think like that. She wouldn't.

The expulsion of air from her made Rhysand turn around, sadness and a plea in his eyes. Maybe a little tint of hope, but Y/n decided she did not see it.

"What did you want to talk about?" She muttered, wrapping her arms across her chest.

A small smile curled Rhysand's lips, one that didn't meet his eyes and told Y/n that it was a ruse because he was trying to not break down.

She could read him like a book, but maybe that's what happened when you spent almost half a century with someone.

"Straight to the point, eh? What happened to hellos and how are yous?"

Y/n gave him an unimpressed look, and he sighed. "i... I'm here to beg for forgiveness. I'm sorry."

That made Y/n roll her eyes and she straightened from where she was leaing against the counter behind her and made to turn away.

But suddenly a muffled thud sounded, and Y/n whipped her head towards where Rhys had fallen to his knees, his eyes wide and pleading, filled with tears. Her eyes widened, unchecked shock coursing through her.

She knew he would never go to his knees for anyone or anything other than his court, knew how much significance the tattoos on his knees held.

He lifted his hands in front of his face, shaking so badly that Y/n had the urge to hold them and never let go.

"What are you doing?" She asked, holding her heart on a leash.

The tears began streaming down his cheeks and his lip wobbled, staring up at her as he opened his mouth to speak. "Please forgive me. Please. I havent been able to slep or eat or do anything since we met that day. I cant think of anything except you and Finnian. please Y/n, forgive me. please."

"Rhys... we talked about this. You can't just waltz back into my life as you see fit. Where were you when i needed you? Where were you when Fin needed you? Why are you back now? It can't be because Fin is your- your son. You already have another one."

Rhys opened his mouth, but a sob escaped instead of words.

And Y/n's heart shattered right alongside the broken voice in which he spoke next. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I need you Y/n, I need you back."

Y/n dropped to her knees too, settling back on her heels as she stared at him, horrified. "What?"

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. "I still love you. I never stopped."

Y/n laughed without humour. "And what about Feyre? Huh? Is she disposable to you? Are all females disposable to you, oh mighty high lord?"

Rhysand winced. "Y/n please."

And then the leash on Y/n's anger snapped, and she snarled at rhys. "Please what rhys? Please what? Come back to you, even though you are mated, married and a father?"

"Yes!" Rhys snapped back at her, leaving her stunned. She was more shocked of the answer than his tone.

She blinked slowly, a tear slipping out of her eyes as she stared at Rhys's panting form, his eyes furious. "Yes, I fucking want you to come back to me. I am ready to leave everyone and everything behind to give my life, my time, my everything to you."

"You are telling me to destroy another female's, another child's life just so I could have you?" Her voice was no longer loud. It was soft as a feeling of resignation spread through her.

Nodding, he crawled forward, towards Y/n, making her scoot back until her back was against the wall.

"Rhys..." She whispered, trying to get his attention for long enough to tell him to get lost, but his eyes that had been staring into hers were now fixated on her lips. She pulled her knees to her chest as she monitored his every movement, her heart beating in her throat.

"Rhys." This time he met her gaze, and she was shocked to find hunger in that violet gaze.

He prowled closer on all fours, simply staring at Y/n the whole while.

When he was practically on top of her, he leaned forward, one of his hands rising to cup her cheek. "Y/n..."

"No..." She muttered on an exhale, but she couldn't do anything to stop him. It was as if someone had gotten into her mind and was forcing her to stay still.

But no matter how much she protested, she still wanted him. Wanted him to kiss her, to hold her, to be with her and to be hers. Only hers. She didn't want to share him with any human turned fae filth.

No. No. No. This is not what I think. What is going on?!

His face was inches from hers, his eyes searching her eyes as his face lowered, only a few inches between them. A hairsbreadth between them. And then finally, finally-

A loud knock on the door jolted Y/n, making her flinch. It was like a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped onto her head, making her realise she was about to let Rhys back in.

Rhys growled, deep and low as his head swung towards the door. But then he froze, his head turning back towards her, slowly, his feral eyes meeting hers. Betrayal swirled in them, and something like guilt climbed up Y/n's throat.

He had smelled who was out there, and he was not happy. "What is he–"

She didn't give him a chance to finish, pushing him away with her hand on his chest as she climbed to her feet from her position on the floor and stalking towards the door. He made a sound of frustration behind her, and it prompted her to open the door quicker.

Eris smiled at her as soon as the door was open, Fin asleep in his arms, one of his hands holding a number of bags Y/n didn't bother to count.

She swallowed as he made to step inside. She hesitantly stepped aside as he began speaking. "We would have been out for longer, but then Fin was getting tired, and he also fell and scraped his knee. As soon as I picked him up, he fell asleep."

Eris shook his head, a soft smile on his face.

But then he stilled, his head twisting to look at where Rhys was now standing, glaring daggers at him.

If looks could kill, both the males would be dead, because both of them stared at each other like their mother was killed with a stick, and neither of them backed down.

"What are you doing with my son?" Rhys spoke in a deadly voice, prowling up to Eris like the predator he was.

Eris, to his credit, didn't waver. "Something you are not doing for your son."

Rhys snarled, lunging across the space between him and Eris, his hands outstretched towards Fin's sleeping form.

In a moment of panic, she threw herself in front of Rhys, and he jerked to a stop, his eyes blazing.

"Get away from him Y/n." Rhys snarled.

Y/n shook her head. She turned, meeting Eris's eyes, silently pleading.

Eris's own eyes were filled with deadly intent, but he quietly handed Fin over to his mother.

Y/n walked away from the two fuming males, not wanting anything to do with their bullshit. She knew both of them were pissed and not in their right minds.

But when were males in their right minds?

She gently set Fin on his bed, trying her best not to jostle him. And then she walked out, closing the door behind her. If the two males out there decided they were going to be having a screaming match, she would rather not have her son hear it.

When she walked out, she found the two of them still glaring at each other, but now there was a little more space between them.

As soon as they felt her, they whipped their heads to look at her. She could feel both their eyes following her every movement as she went and stood near Eris. Not near enough to touch, but enough to make a point.

That she trusted Eris more than her former lover.

Rhysand looked like he was about to go on a murder spree, but before he could do that, Y/n spoke.

"Leave."

Rhys laughed, begining to stalk forward. "no."

When he was close, he reached out his hand to her fsce, as if he was going to grab her.

But his touch never came.

Baceuse Eris had pushed his hand between the two of them and was having an intense staring match with rhys.

"She told you to leave."

"And I said no." Rhys muttered, eyeing the hand in front of Y/n.

"She. Told you. To leave. You don't want me to repeat myself."

Rhys lifted his eyes to Eris, then to Y/n. She looked away, her hand instinctively reaching towards Eris.

She realised it a little late. She was trying to shield herself from Rhys.

Rhys laughed again, a deranged sound.

"You will regret this Eris Vanserra. I will make you regret it." Then, in a voice that would have made greater men piss themselves, he mumbled. "I banish you from the night court. Leave while you still can. You have till sunset to leave, and if after that you still haven't left, I will hunt you down like the animal that you are and bathe in your fucking blood."

And then, Rhys simply stalked up to the door, nearly ripped it from its hinges, and walked out.

Eris then turned to Y/n and silently pulled her into his arms.

She let him.

And she let down walls keeping her emotions in check.

She clutched his shirt in her fingers as if she'd die if she ever let go, and cried and cried and cried until she couldn't anymore.

And before long, she heard the whispered words in her ear.

"Come with me to autumn court. Let me take care of you."

•○🌑○•

Part 6

Taglist: @awoa1 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @luvmoo @we-were-beautiful @eerievixen @zoe2 @fussel9913 @j-pendragonx @thesnugglingduck @jesssicapaniagua @devilsnightz @esposadomd @littleffawn @mandowhatnow @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @princesslolaasworld @asemkta @cat-or-kitten @txzii @bunnyredgirl @theofficialmadman @leeknows-wife @aria-chikage @amygdtjhddzvb @azriels-mate123 @inky-clover @kemillyfreitas @12358 @justdreamstars @cuethedepession @princessvesta

#rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #rhysand #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar fanfic #acotar fluff #acotar series #acotar writing #Rhysand fanfic #feyre #feyre archeron #acomaf #a court of mist and fury #acowar #rhysand x reader #rhysand x feyre #rhysand x oc #acosf #a court of silver flames #acotar #rhys acotar #mating bond #sarah j maas #acotar headcanon #pro eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris vanserra x reader

[imfinereallyy]

celebrate softly

it my birthday today so here’s a lil gift from me to you (yes I know that’s not how this works haha) I made a bunch of little things is celebration, i probably won’t post these till later in the day so sorry if you get a bunch at once.

Steve wanted to like his birthday.

No, really, he truly did. He knew that birthdays were the one time of year you get to be a little selfish. The people you loved gathered around you to celebrate another year of you.

It was just that Steve was also used to disappointment.

Over the years, his birthday has consisted of either his parents parading him around at business dinners or the empty silence of a house that wasn’t ever a home.

His old friends were never around. It was a holiday weekend; he didn’t expect them to stick around. Even if they had, Steve was almost sure they would have made him throw a party, where they would have pressured him to get drunk and sleep with someone, and…

Yea, Steve wasn’t interested.

The one birthday he spent with Nancy had been okay. She had to go on a family trip, her parents attempt at getting their kids to cheer up over the loss of their friends, and she was going to leave the morning of his birthday. But at midnight of July 2nd, she had snuck into his window even though she could have walked through the front door. Nancy had brought him a cupcake, a small present, and a soft smile. Steve had wanted to kiss her, but he knew it wasn’t what she wanted then. He wanted to be respectful, so he held her hand instead.

Nancy hadn’t brought a candle, said she didn’t want to risk burning the Harrington Household down. Steve had laughed, saying that would be the best birthday present ever, but she hadn’t laughed back.

The present had been a book. Which wasn’t a terrible gift per se, Steve liked reading it was just he had difficulty doing it. He couldn’t focus long enough, or he would have to reread sentences over and over again.

It just didn’t feel worth the frustration.

But it was sweet of her to get him something, so he tried reading it. It took him months to finish it, even though it was small. It was boring, and Steve had found the main character whiny, and Steve had begun to wonder if Nancy was trying to tell him something.

Then the Upside Down round two had happened, Steve got his ass kicked again and learned that Catcher in the Rye was Jonathan’s favorite book.

Steve had thrown out the book amongst his bloody bandages.

Steve was only slightly hopeful to have a good birthday last year. He had good friends (sure, one was his ex, and the other were children, but he still counted them); Dustin would be home from camp, and even though he had work, he got to spend the whole day bothering Robin, which brought him a special kind of joy.

But then they were cracking Russian code, getting tortured, and watching Max’s Stepbrother die, all within the days of his birthday.

So Steve didn’t have high expectations this year. Sure, people knew it was his birthday, it was hard to hide when he was friends with the nosiest people, but most of them were spending the entire weekend staying with Max, and he would have been too if Max hadn’t thrown a remote at him when he suggested it.

So Steve had conceded to having a quiet but lonely July 2nd.

But then at 7 am there was a knock on his front door.

A knock was putting it lightly, there was pounding echoing in the Harrington Household.

When Steve walked up to the door, he was prepared to drive away some bigots who had been trying to “repent Hawkins.” They had been going around the richer neighborhoods recently, saying we needed to clean up the streets of the sinners and the queers.

Yea, they were knocking on the wrong door.

Steve hadn’t expect Eddie Munson, notorious night owl, to be crowding his doorway at 7 am.

“Harrington, have I ever told you how absolutely ugly your house is? Like for how wealthy your parents are, they chose an absolute nightmare of a layout! It makes no sense.” Eddie budged his way past Steve with his arms full of bags.

“I’ve been telling him that for a year, Eddie, and every time he just shrugs!” Steve turned to find Robin bullying her way through him as well. She had a handful of videos in her hands.

“Sure, come in, I guess,” Steve mumbled. He shut the door and turned toward his intruders. “Not that I don’t love a surprise appearance at—“ Steve checked his watch “—7:03 am, but is there a reason why you are awake before the birds are even chirping?”

Eddie snorted and just gave him a look instead of answering. Robin shook her head, “What doofus hear is trying to convey with a noise, Jesus Eds, I know you’re not a morning, but words please, is that we are obviously here for your birthday. You, Steven Alison Harrington—“

“Not my middle name.”

“—we’re born at exactly 7:07 am on July 2nd. So we had to be here to say happy birthday officially!”

“How do you even know the time? I don’t even know that.”

“She snuck a look at your file last time Owen’s was in town.” Eddie smirked.

Robin hit him upside the head, “Don’t tell him that asshole, he already thinks I’m crazy enough. And don’t act like this wasn’t your idea!”

Eddie rubbed the back his head in dramatic fashion then yelled, “Snitch!” through hissed teeth.

Steve felt himself unthaw at the idea that these two weirdos woke up this early for him. “Ah, well, thanks, guys.” A blush rose on his cheeks, “Well, thanks for stopping by; you guys can go home and sleep if you want.”

“Stevie, did you think we brought all this to just leave? On your birthday. Oh no, no, no. We are having a whole movie and snack day! I brought weed, and chips, and we can order a pizza later in the day. And just be lazy weirdos in your fancy living room.” Eddie hopped up on his coffee table, startling a laugh from Steve.

“That sounds like a typically Friday for us, what’s so special about it?” Steve teased.

“Well we brought all of your favorite movies! Grease, Top Gun, Karate Kid, Indiana Jones...wait I think I'm noticing a theme here—“

“Robin!” Steve screeched, his blush coming back with vengeance. He didn’t want her to reveal there very obvious, and embarrassing pattern to his favorite films.

“And!” Eddie said from atop his place on the coffee table, unfazed by the two of them, “We are paying for the pizza.” His voice oozed with pride at that. Steve was sure he had come up with the idea.

“Wow I’m a spoiled prince. Maybe ever think I wanted to stay in bed?” Steve raised a single eyebrow.

“Oh but my sweet prince, we know you rather spend this glorious day with us.” Eddie was confident, with confidence came the damn nicknames, and Jesus Christ—this blush of his was never going away. “Besides what else could you wish for!”

A kiss from you. Steve thought quickly.

Steve sighed deeply before saying, “Alright. Get down.”

Eddie seemed taken aback, like he hadn’t expected the rejection. “Oh yea man, of course. We will get out of your hair.” He scrambled off the table.

Steve giggled, “No Eds. I’m moving the coffee table. This couch is a pullout. We can all just lay on it while we watch movies.”

Eddie’s face lit up while Robin yelled, “Oh thank god, I’m exhausted.”

An hour later, when the sun was still barely risen and Grease blared in the background, Robin was bundled up in the blankets they dragged from his room, out like a light.

Eddie and Steve huddled close, but didn’t touch. The anticipation and want sat between them. “I actually have something for you.” Eddie whispered.

Robin snored beside them; Steve looked at her fondly. “You don’t have to whisper; she’s a heavy sleeper. Learned that the hard way.”

“Ah well, I have a present for you.”

Steve knows he should say that Eddie shouldn’t have, or insist he returns it. He knew it was the polite thing to do. He couldn’t find it in himself to do it, though. The idea that Eddie even thought to get him something beyond the amazing day they had planned (truly Steve couldn’t ask for a better day), but Eddie had spent his time to get something for Steve.

It was nice to have someone who would do something nice for you just because they can, not because they should. So, Steve waited patiently as Eddie reached into his bag beside the couch.

“Here.” Eddie spoke, placing the roughly wrapped package in his lap.

There was a tiny notecard with Eddie’s chicken scratch on it; Steve decided to read that first.

Stevie,

No adventure is the same without you, and this is the only one I have taken without you by my side. Thought it was about time we changed that. Hopefully we are not forever partners in crime (we’ve had enough of that) but instead, adventurers taking on then great unknown.

Together.

Yours,

Eddie Munson ッ

Steve smoothed over the card and tried not to cry. The poorly drawn smiley face stared up at him from the piece of parchment. Steve tucked it into his pocket for safe keeping; he might even frame it.

Eddie looked at Steve eagerly as he tried to open the package. He does it slowly to tease Eddie; his frustrated little growl made butterflies in Steve’s stomach.

Inside the package is a worn-out book, one he would recognize anywhere, considering he saw it every day on Eddie’s bookshelf. “Eds, this is your copy of Lord of the Rings. I can’t take this.”

Eddie put his hair in front of his mouth, suddenly shy, “Well, it wouldn’t be exactly yours. It’s just I thought it would be fun to, ya know, read it together? Like we take turns reading to each other. I know the kids always bug you to read it, and I noticed that it’s hard for you to focus sometimes, and I get that, so it might be easier if we like make it a thing? I know it’s probably not your interest; it’s my favorite book, not yours, so you know what? This is stupid—“

Steve cut him off by pulling him into a hug. Steve buried himself into Eddie’s neck before saying, “Thank you. It’s the best birthday present.”

“Really?” Eddie pulled back to look at Steve’s face. Whatever he found there must settle him, because he relaxed his shoulders. “I know it’s silly, but I guess I wanted to share this piece of myself with you…and maybe spend some more time together.”

Steve didn’t mention how they spent almost every day together, didn’t think he had to either. They both knew.

Steve decided to be bold instead. He pushed Eddie back into the couch and settled his back into Eddie’s chest. He snuggled into the warmth of his arms.

Steve put the book in Eddie’s hand. “Okay, you read first.”

Eddie laughed; Steve could feel the vibrations from under his skin. It was delightful; it was delicious. “Oh, you want to start now?”

Steve made an indignant noise while Eddie laughed again at him. His hands settled at the back of Steve’s neck as he played with hair that brushed it.

“When Mr Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventyifirst birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was …”

And once again, hours later, when Steve woke up, after drifting to Eddie’s soft, deep voice, Steve felt something settle in him. He felt Eddie lightly snoring beneath him, one hand still tangled in his hair. He felt Robin’s hand wrapped around his ankle, grounding the both of them. And there, between all of them, was the fallen book with no bookmark, signaling they would have to start again.

Maybe, sometimes. Steve thinks, birthdays could be good.

***

projecting. projecting. projecting. that’s me.

I hope you guys liked this one :) I did use my own bday for him, but the time he was born at is different than mine lol. I had a lot of fun writing it, it was just the softness I needed.

#steddie #people deserve soft birthdays #especially Steve #he just wants to snuggle #eddie munson #robin buckley #steve harrington #my writing #stranger things #platonic stobin #lord of the rings #soft boys #pre steddie #pre relationship #fluff #domestic fluff #stobin #bisexual Steve Harrington #birthday blues #ficlet #steve x eddie

[retrocesosdestacion]

INSIDE EVERYTHING. | ingrid engen

ingrid engen x reader

genre: smut, minor disastrous.

warnings: +18 writting, semi-public sex, touching, fingering, r sub, maybe a bit realistic, did not reach the limit, half sex, almost caught.

notes: i'm not a big fan of writing smut but i tried to use all my neurons 🤷‍♀️ also i wrote this when i was sleepy so maybe there are some things that don't make much sense

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: It's shopping day, however you are very doubtful on which denim shorts you are going to acquire.

How to solve? Ask a certain norwegian woman for her impression.

“ You're on my mind, been there all the night. I've been missing my midnight queen. ”

Rosenfeld.

❝ No. ❞ You heard Ingrid disagree before you even got fully dressed.

Arms crossed with some shorts folded, back leaning against the cabin wall and beautiful grassy eyes staring at you.

Engen looked more like a fashion critic than your girlfriend. That was the bad side of being her girlfriend: always having an opinion in what you would wear.

❝ Why not?! ❞ You would need good justifications to ditch those shorts. You walked around completely to make sure it was comfortable. ❝ It's perfect. ❞

❝ Too short. ❞ Worse than having a critical girlfriend? Having a jealous and critical girlfriend.

You and Ingrid have been dating for a year. It are flowers, there is nothing to complain about apart from the midfielder's very few inconvenient attitudes.

After all, you were also a bit inconvenient with her.

Your optical orbs landed on the norwegian, indignant and not convinced that these would be the perfect shorts for your summer vacation.

❝ But isn't that the point of shorts? ❞ You argued, extending a hand to Engen, waiting for her to give you the next shorts you would try on.

❝ Yes, but this one is shorter than the normal ones. ❞ Ingrid claimed as she watched you from top to bottom, mainly focusing on the beginning of the curve of your buttock. ❝ And your ass shows. ❞

You rolled your eyes, unzipping your shorts inside the cabin; Just the two of you, there was nothing to worry about.

You wouldn't even need to face the norwegian in person to find out her reaction, as the mirror that almost completed the wall gave it away.

❝ And what’s the problem? ❞ At that point you were mocking with her, but it was these types of comments that touched the player's heart the most. Your eyes landed on your girlfriend's reflection.

Engen was not happy about this at all. ❝ Are you kidding me? ❞ Her perplexed tone was so noticeable that it brought a silly smile off your face.

The laughter on your face was there for a long time, and so was the silence. Not so much, in reality, the only thing that passed through your ears was the scattered sounds of the store's environment.

❝ Give me the next one, miss possessive. ❞ You whispered without receiving a response. Your brow furrowed in doubt, until you noticed Ingrid's sudden approach to you.

So, you turned your body towards the woman, who suddenly handed you one of the next shorts you were going to try on. ❝ We had agreed that you wouldn't call me that anymore. ❞

❝ How can I not call you that if you live up to your name? ❞ You played again, pulling down the shorts you were wearing while you felt her greenish eyes penetrate you.

Basically, it was completely fun to irritate and pay attention to the norwegian, mainly because she gave in very easily to this type of emotion.

It just wasn't expected that this time would be different. Really very different.

You threw the previous shorts on the armchair inside the dressing room and immediately put on the other one. Sincerely? That was the best.

❝ How about that? ❞ You questioned without looking back at Engen. It was comfortable, probably wouldn't be too short in your girlfriend's opinion, and it wasn't long either.

You gave the norwegian some time to formulate an impression about the shorts. And given how long it took, something positive would probably come out of those lips.

Or maybe because Engen's eyes were too busy staring at your thighs and part of your groin.

❝ Not short. And it's more practical. ❞ Gotcha. Ingrid murmured, immediately placing her index finger inside one of yours side waistbands.

Your eyes finally met the midfielder's, who had a very tempting look on her face. And you knew very well what that meant, but not for that moment.

❝ Practical? ❞ You slowly dissipated the word from your lips, confused by what was said.

❝ To take away. ❞

And gradually you discovered it. Your eyes widened, eyebrows rose in surprise and your head began to shake slowly in denial.

❝ No. ❞ You inhaled, shaking your head faster. ❝ No way. ❞ Your cheeks began to burn with tension.

❝ I didn't say anything. ❞ Ingrid smiled the stupid smile of someone who had the best idea in mind. Suddenly, you weren't the one playing with her anymore.

And yes, she is playing with you.

The finger on the waistband previously pulled you closer to Engen's body, who saw the opportunity to seal your lips quickly.

At first you forced yourself to give in, after all, who would deny a kiss from the woman of your life? Presupposedly, you moved your face inches away, before the norwegian started advancing.

❝ Shit, Ingrid. We are not doing it. ❞ You whispered, placing the palm of your hand on the woman's lips and gently pushing them. ❝ We are in public. ❞

❝ No, we are not. ❞ Engen played with the situation once again, moving your hand away. ❝ Please, it will be quick. ❞

Your optical orbs stared at the stupid malicious expression that the midfielder carried on her beautiful and angelic face.

The long silence without responding to the norwegian was the key for Ingrid to carefully seal her lips again. Slowly, your body was pushed against the mirror on the wall. ❝ The chances of them seeing us are low, Kjære. ❞ (darling.)

Your body was already warm from the closed and small place that was the cabin, and now with your girlfriend touching you? It was like adding gasoline in aflame.

Ingrid controlled her lips so well, being nice and slow until you got used to the situation. The taller girl's long, cold, left-handed fingers slid down your torso, looking for some treasure while the other hand delicately grabbed her jaw.

You grunted between the kiss, perhaps due to the tension, to the lack of breath that was present or owing to the fear of someone opening that door.

Your eyes closed, giving up on the situation you found yourself in. Your mind focused on the sweet flavor of Ingrid's lip flesh and creating scenarios of an employee opening that door.

The only thing that sounded inside that semi-dark room were the sticky lips mixing and the sound of the environment.

❝ Ingrid— ❞ You murmured between the kiss, which slowly broke from the moment Engen led them south.

The norwegian's lips found themselves on the skin of the curve of your neck. And that was the final step for you to finally give yourself to the woman.

Your fingers slipped between the black strands, combing and pressing them each time Ingrid gently nibbled or sucked your skin.

If you were looking at her correctly, you could easily see how the midfielder had a short and emphatic smile.

Lips half-open, echoing muffled sounds and your skin getting chills more and more. It was magnificent, incredible and crazy how a certain norwegian woman could make you ecstasy.

❝ That's a bad idea. ❞ The words slowly came out in a murmur between muffled grunts. Ingrid increasingly enhanced her lips on your skin.

The midfielder had the talent of always studying your body with tenor and affection, it was a gift to have Engen's delicate lips glued to your figure.

But despite this, your concern for the environment was the counter to affectionate touches. Even though every cabin had a door, they didn't lock.

And being inside for more than six minutes was also a danger, at some point someone would enter there.

❝ Trust me. ❞ Engen finally released her lips from your body, but it screamed, begged to have her back.

You hated Ingrid for always leaving you at ease in situations like this, always halfway. At this point, your legs were almost begging to open and let the Norwegian do whatever she wants with you.

It was a fight. You wanted to, but you also didn't.

But in reality, there was no turning back from this; Your needy and passionate side won.

Screw it. You're in public, people should see how much you love each other. People should watch how you loved being touched like that.

Ingrid finally reached her fingers at the beginning of your genitals through your shorts, gradually touching them with just her index finger.

Your body was sensitive, any touch was enough to make you grunt or arch. The norwegian's fingerprint did not rub, but slid, circularly.

Even though the fabric of the shorts is thick enough to not feel the outside touch, Engen had the capacity to do so.

It was the wet lips touching your skin and marking it, it was the slightest touch of the long finger in the region of your genitals; Ingrid wasn't even inside you and your breathing was so heavy.

Your lungs inflated and deflated as quickly as a marathon runner's, a strong struggle between containing the slightest groans and finding breath for the situation.

❝ Do you want me to stop? ❞ Engen murmured between her lips glued to your skin, slowly pulling away and resting her eyes on your face. ❝ We can do this at home. ❞

Despite all this attitude, Ingrid was a person with a strong personality, always putting your well-being first.

The norwegian's fingers, too. They stopped, but without leaving their place.

You took a second breath before confirming your answer. You shook your head negative, finally giving your answer.

❝ Please, no. ❞ Your lips wet with your own drool, hardly satiated because you were busier moaning.

Your body began to release drops of sweat, your sly eyes looked at Engen; carrying the stupid horny smile.

Her left hand slid down to the south of your thighs, pressing your fingers against the norwegian's wrist. You slowly guided her delicate hand into your shorts, unzipped.

Therefore, the midfielder's fingers were a tissue away from her clitoris. Your gaze stared into the greenish optical orbs, somewhat perplexed by his sudden attitude.

❝ Finish what you started. ❞ You brought your lips close to your girlfriend's ear area, enough to whisper.

You freed her wrist, intending to give Engen full consent to touch your body however she wanted. Your arms rose and wrapped around the player's neck.

Slowly, Ingrid wet her own fingers with her lips, lubricating them. The ring finger started the touching, even over the panties.

It was slow, but well done. The midfielder had a lot of experience when it came to creating elation in you.

The circular movements were enough to make you grunt and muffle the sounds on Engen's skin, indirectly begging her to do more and more.

Within seconds, the only thing you could feel was Ingrid's finger invade your clitoris, especially when you noticed your panties being dragged to the side.

Exposed to her and everything, your eyes refused to look at anything other than the cabin door. You had many missions: not to moan so loud, not to grunt and not to make any rough movements.

After all, you were one step away from being in public.

Ingrid's ring and middle fingers did not penetrate, but rubbed against your warm vaginal skin. From side to side, top to bottom.

And that was enough to make you act like she had two fingers inside you. It wasn't a lie when it was said that your skin is sensitive.

With each second it increased in intensity like a sports car starting up, Ingrid moved her fingers so well that you even wondered if that was the woman you knew.

Your face was buried in the midfielder's collarbone, muffling short, sly moans that left your lips.

❝ Damn, Ingrid. ❞ Even though you were busy blocking out the sounds coming out of you, there was still space to murmur your loved one's name.

Engen acted concentrated, rubbing her fingers on you, which inch by inch entered you. But also, the woman's cold lips touched your skin.

Body arched towards your girlfriend, fingers leading towards the long black strands of her. You bit your own lips with each long finger you received, stopping the moans from coming out.

Slowly, you could feel the sweat dripping down your entire body, especially on the inside of your thighs. A sweat so powerful that it was enough to slide.

The heat inside the dressing room was so intense that the mirror fogged up every minute, perhaps due to the control over your bodies.

❝ Relax. ❞ Engen murmured so low that it was difficult to decipher, even close to your ear.

You didn't know what to say and didn't even know what to think: you didn't know whether to moan the norwegian's name, order her to stop due to the tension or beg for more.

And down there, it was impossible to describe what was happening. Ingrid wrapped her fingers around it, took it out and put it back in several times and always increased the intensity as if she knew exactly what she was playing with.

Engen played with your body as if she knew every detail and secret of yours.

❝ Fuck. ❞ You repeated this once, twice, three times, almost increasing your intonation. Your mind surrendered to Engen, surrendering so much that you even forgot you were in public.

Your very long arms pressed more and more around the taller woman's neck, mainly as a bridge to sink your face even further into her neck.

The norwegian brought her lips back to your neck, carefully kissing your skin, but also biting it.

On your private part and now on your neck? This was the perfect combo, but at the same time crazy. It was at that moment that you were sure you were crazy about Ingrid Engen.

But you were so focused on praising her and moaning the norwegian's name that you completely forgot you were in public.

Especially on a Saturday night, where people go out to buy clothes and try them on. Which meant your time was limited.

At that moment, even though you were mentally occupied with Engen's face and fingers, it was very noticeable steps meters away heading towards you.

Your eyebrows arched, immediately pulling the player's hand away; even though she had noticed it too, since she had stopped moving her fingers.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

❝ Men hva i helvete. ❞ (what the fuck.) Ingrid murmured so swiftly that it didn't even sound norwegian. The woman's body reacted so quickly by moving towards the armchair, that Engen seemed experienced in being caught in act.

And you were no different. The only problem is that you only had the opportunity to stare at the door, praying that whoever opened it wouldn't notice anything.

The footsteps approached and stopped, knocking twice on the door and asking permission to open it just a crack.

❝ Yes? ❞ You responded to the touches with a fragile intonation, as you were trying to catch your breath.

❝ Sorry to interrupt, but I noticed that you've been in there for almost twenty-five minutes. ❞ A female voice came from outside. ❝ Is everything ok? ❞

You took a while to respond, as you were more concentrated and having difficulty taking off your shorts due to the sweat caused.

❝ Yes, everything fine. I am leaving soon! I just need... ❞ Your eyes fell on Engen, who carried a stupid smile of someone who was clearly holding back a laugh. ❝ ...Fold the clothes I wore. ❞

❝ No need, just leave the ones you won't use on the counter after you leave. ❞ The door gap has closed. ❝ Once again, sorry for the inconvenience. ❞

An uncomfortable silence remained inside the cabin, you wiped off the little sweat that remained on your own neck.

❝ I knew this would happen! ❞ You finally said something, looking at Ingrid.

❝ If you had known it was going to happen, you wouldn't have accepted it, miss moans loudly. ❞ Engen got back at you, expressing short laughs that were definitely meant to stress you out.

❝ But I— ❞

She got up and walked towards the door, carrying the other shorts you had already worn. ❝ Can we finish at home? ❞ At this point, Ingrid was making fun of you.

❝ ...Fuck you. ❞ That was the only thing you said before pushing the Norwegian; which barely moved. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment.

You put on your own pants, soon carrying the shorts you were previously wearing between your fingers. Now, you were forced to buy it.

❝ We will never do this again, you idiot. ❞

#woso #barça femeni #fc barça #ingrid engen #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen fic #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barca femeni

[skeletonsloverockcandy]

Man, each year I get to it, I love the May 5th entry and what it means. I take something new from it each time. Like last year I noticed the sacrifices and efforts the Driver and the other passengers made to try and save Jonathan, a stranger to them, by showing up early, by giving him gifts, by blessing him, despite the danger that puts them in. Especially when Dracula, as the driver, points it out to the Driver of the first coach, what he was trying to do, and scares him by pointing out what he said (despite it being heard far out of normal earshot and over the sound of horses galloping).

This year though, I notice that, but I see some of the smaller details too. Like how the mountains are full of blooming fruit trees, and how we are so used to the “gothic” aesthetic we almost forget it’s Spring. How Jonathan takes notice and comfort in the view, despite the growing unease he feels because of the people around him. He is trying to distract himself from how scared he’s getting based on their warnings. Warding him from the Evil Eye.

"No, no," he said; "you must not walk here; the dogs are too fierce"; and then he added, with what he evidently meant for grim pleasantry—for he looked round to catch the approving smile of the rest—"and you may have enough of such matters before you go to sleep."

I also take notice of this from the driver, as it’s almost a morbid gallows humor that he clearly knows to expect the wolves, and knowing what happens later, I’m sure the people here have a horrible fear of them, knowing what Dracula can do…and what he does to that poor mother later.

There were dark, rolling clouds overhead, and in the air the heavy, oppressive sense of thunder. It seemed as though the mountain range had separated two atmospheres, and that now we had got into the thunderous one.

We also get here what might be our first indication that the Count can control the weather to an extent.

They were driven by a tall man, with a long brown beard and a great black hat, which seemed to hide his face from us.

All I can imagine is Dracula in a fake beard now lol.

"You are early to-night, my friend." The man stammered in reply:—

"The English Herr was in a hurry," to which the stranger replied:—

"That is why, I suppose, you wished him to go on to Bukovina. You cannot deceive me, my friend; I know too much, and my horses are swift."

But God, this must have been terrifying for the driver and the passengers. What would Dracula do to punish them for trying to escape him? Would he dare make an example in front of the Englishman right now, or would he grant them mercy to say nothing else as Jonathan is unsuspectingly led to his doom, so they think.

"Denn die Todten reiten schnell"— ("For the dead travel fast.")

The strange driver evidently heard the words, for he looked up with a gleaming smile.

It feels like they’re all in on some sick joke that they know the punchline to, but Jonathan doesn’t, so with the dramatic irony, it feels like we the readers are the same peasants, trying to do anything to save or warn Jonathan but it’s already too late.

I also notice how quickly Dracula tries to shift the power dynamic with Jonathan, and have him doubt his sanity so soon, and he’s not even in the castle yet.

He drives him in circles to try and disorient Jonathan and make him feel even more lost, also keeping him out for far later and making Jonathan question if he’s dreaming or if what he’s seeing is real. I’d also bet more than anything that wine he offer Jonathan on the coach that Jonathan didn’t end up taking was drugged. Because it’s far easier to disorient an unconscious passenger in the dark than it is to disorient a conscious passenger. But he still does a pretty darn good job.

Then there’s the blue flames, which Jonathan doesn’t know how to react to as they seem supernatural and he doesn’t know how to rationalize it yet, so he takes it as if he’s dreaming.

This gave me a sort of shock, for I suppose the general superstition about midnight was increased by my recent experiences. I waited with a sick feeling of suspense.

Jonathan also has already felt the fear and nerves associated with the supernatural and superstition after what all of the townsfolk have told him, and later he tries to brush this off and rationalize again, try not to get too scared, but a part of him already realizes something is wrong.

Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down the road—a long, agonised wailing, as if from fear.

I also want to point this out, as it’s right before the wolves surround the coach, but it’s the second time a “dog” has been mentioned howling in the night, and with this evidence, I bet Dracula uses the wolves as a threat to keep the peasants and townsfolk in line, as he can’t munch down on everyone. But it shows how powerful he is and what a threat he poses. I wonder who the wolves kill in the night.

Also how Jonathan, as an Englishman where there were no more native wolves, can’t even imagine that’s what they were and thinks they are dogs.

And it makes sense now that earlier when Jonathan was getting out his good ol’ polyglot dictionary, how the two words mean the same thing.

"vrolok" and "vlkoslak"—both of which mean the same thing, one being Slovak and the other Servian for something that is either were-wolf or vampire.

As Dracula, as we see later, can transform into a wolf himself, and so there is probably less distinction between the two in this culture than we have tried to establish in the modern day.

Once there appeared a strange optical effect: when he stood between me and the flame he did not obstruct it, for I could see its ghostly flicker all the same.

Ah, I wonder if this is an early indication that Dracula cannot be depicted through traditional means? Like how he can’t be seen in the mirror. Certain lights just, pass through him.

I shouted and beat the side of the calèche, hoping by the noise to scare the wolves from that side, so as to give him a chance of reaching the trap.

We also see Jonathan taking an active and proactive approach, in this manner trying to be helpful and aid his (what he assumes human) driver. With these sorts of actions already, I can see signs of the man who will pick up a shovel to try and do what needs to be done. Who takes a knife and vows action, not hesitating.

He is polite right now, he’s on business. He doesn’t know what’s coming. But regardless, that person is still in him, and he’s capable of taking great action and doing great things for the sake of survival and doing what he thinks is right.

And Dracula commanding the wolves to stop as the driver, and the cloud passing overhead, I feel is like a subtle display of power and threat to Jonathan. He’s still playing pretend, but when Jonathan does figure out he was the coach the whole time, and he plays coy, the Count knows Jonathan will remember this threat, and it feels that much more sinister.

Jonathan still questions and thinks he fell asleep, as he doesn’t see how he’d have missed the approach of the castle otherwise, but I think he was awake because it was dark, and the count was intentionally taking him a winding and confusing path under a lot of fear. Though if he did fall asleep, I’m that much more terrified about how Dracula was driving him about, now secure in the knowledge that Jonathan would be thoroughly isolated and lost.

And the thing that nearly gives Dracula away twice as the driver is the strength of his grip on Jonathan’s hand, also lacing a subtle threat.

through these frowning walls and dark window openings it was not likely that my voice could penetrate.

Well this is just scary knowing how trapped Jonathan becomes later, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear the outside world, and how the outside world might not be able to hear him, and how he’s already acknowledging that.

The time I waited seemed endless, and I felt doubts and fears crowding upon me. What sort of place had I come to, and among what kind of people? What sort of grim adventure was it on which I had embarked?

He already is expressing doubts and fears, he isn’t ignorant of what situation he might be in, and it’s only later when he tries to rationalize with the count and is given the comforts manipulation of food and sleep, that he tries to dismiss these fears and take the Count at his word.

Was this a customary incident in the life of a solicitor's clerk sent out to explain the purchase of a London estate to a foreigner? Solicitor's clerk! Mina would not like that. Solicitor—for just before leaving London I got word that my examination was successful; and I am now a full-blown solicitor!

Okay, this is just really cute. Mina said You passed the Bar, you Deserve to call yourself a Solicitor Jonathan <3

Also explains a lot that Jonathan is a fresh faced baby lawyer who just passed the bar and needs this assignment. He’s probably hoping that after this pay day he can marry Mina and have enough for them to start making a life together. Also says a lot for Dracula’s strategy to him to get someone young, inexperienced, and unfamiliar with the area, who might be seen as “expendable” so that Jonathan’s sudden “disappearance” might go unremarked by those in charge (though Mina would notice).

I began to rub my eyes and pinch myself to see if I were awake. It all seemed like a horrible nightmare to me, and I expected that I should suddenly awake, and find myself at home, with the dawn struggling in through the windows, as I had now and again felt in the morning after a day of overwork. But my flesh answered the pinching test, and my eyes were not to be deceived. I was indeed awake and among the Carpathians. All I could do now was to be patient, and to wait the coming of the morning.

Again, those early signs of doubt and fear from Jonathan, showing his unease already at the situation. We did not deserve to be clowning on him so much when this book club first started. It’s not his fault he’s not genre aware 😔 I’m sorry Jonathan.

And when Drac does show up to open the door:

"Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own will!" He made no motion of stepping to meet me, but stood like a statue, as though his gesture of welcome had fixed him into stone.

I wonder if he’s like that because he needs to be invited into places to be there, so if it’s almost like a supernatural hold of importance for him to offer the same thing. Almost like a subtle joke or curse with the knowledge that after Jonathan enters, he won’t be allowed to leave of his own will

holding out his hand grasped mine with a strength which made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by the fact that it seemed as cold as ice—more like the hand of a dead than a living man.

I also like how all the clues are there, and since Jonathan has written them down and taken note of them, the expression on them must be some of the things he’s piercing together about his own fears as well that he’s afraid to voice aloud or in his journal, because if he voices his suspicions, they might become more real to him.

The strength of the handshake was so much akin to that which I had noticed in the driver, whose face I had not seen, that for a moment I doubted if it were not the same person to whom I was speaking

See? He knows what’s up, he’s just afraid to say it.

I also didn’t pick up that Jonathan’s room is octagonal for some reason. I wonder if there’s any reason for that or symbolism with the 8 sides?

Also the letter from Mr. Hawkin’s feels very ominous in retrospect knowing what’s coming and how Dracula will treat Jonathan:

"I must regret that an attack of gout, from which malady I am a constant sufferer, forbids absolutely any travelling on my part for some time to come; but I am happy to say I can send a sufficient substitute, one in whom I have every possible confidence. He is a young man, full of energy and talent in his own way, and of a very faithful disposition. He is discreet and silent, and has grown into manhood in my service. He shall be ready to attend on you when you will during his stay, and shall take your instructions in all matters."

I feel like Dracula knew to take advantage of that, and also this feels like him basically reading the menu for an ideal victim once his business is said and done, so I get shivers, brrrrr.

Hitherto I had noticed the backs of his hands as they lay on his knees in the firelight, and they had seemed rather white and fine; but seeing them now close to me, I could not but notice that they were rather coarse—broad, with squat fingers. Strange to say, there were hairs in the centre of the palm. The nails were long and fine, and cut to a sharp point. As the Count leaned over me and his hands touched me, I could not repress a shudder. It may have been that his breath was rank, but a horrible feeling of nausea came over me, which, do what I would, I could not conceal.

I also like that while Jonathan is describing Dracula, he notice his hands. And I am also struck with how little it is brought up that he has hair on his palms, and I can see the more wolf-like nature of this vampire mythology. I wonder if Bram Stoker intended for werewolves and vampires to be the same thing in his novel? They are certainly compared and have similar powers and weaknesses, so it’s possible I guess.

Also Dracula has corpse-breath lol. Nasty.

I saw the first dim streak of the coming dawn. There seemed a strange stillness over everything; but as I listened I heard as if from down below in the valley the howling of many wolves.

Ah ha! Also the first foreshadowing we get for the importance of dawn and dusk in the novel, as we know later how important timing becomes for our protagonists, so seeing its affects already make me smile at the recognition of the signs so early.

"Listen to them—the children of the night. What music they make!" Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to him, he added:—

"Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into the feelings of the hunter."

And ah, an iconic line. Though I just get second hand angry and uncomfortable at Dracula’s insistence that he’s a “hunter” 🤢. God I just hate him haha.

I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things, which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if only for the sake of those dear to me!

And literally Day 1 of being in the castle and Jonathan is already questioning his sanity and piecing things together he’s afraid to even voice in his journal. This is the second time in as many days he has already wished that those around him find this journal and laments should anything bad happen to him. It creates the impression of one who knows they’re walking into danger but must go on anyway.

But I love Jonathan so much, and I definitely really like the May 5th entry, and it does so much work to set up what happens later.

#dracula daily #dracula #Dracula daily may 5 #Dracula may 5th #jonathan harker #count dracula #re: dracula #dracula meta #my post #original post #Skele talks #skele talks Dracula #long post #skele analysis #Dracula analysis #mina murray #mina harker

[icarustypicalfall]

December

Alejandro Vargas x reader

masterpost • Ao3

Summary: And only when you feel like there is nothing left, you'll find me waiting for you, I'll make it feel like home.

Or

Where Alejandro comes home, because home is you.

Warnings: SFW, bath scene, sweet fluff <3

Note: I die for the unsexual ways of showing intimacy. I tried a new style, not really sure of it, but i just love this trope; where A washes B's hair and takes care of them in a non sexual way, and they are both comfortable and happy :( <3

“Be still my foolish heart

Don't ruin this on me”

The journey from the base to home was long, uncomfortable, and, above all, tiring. Alejandro shifted, letting out a deep sigh as he rubbed his eyes, careful not to touch the still numb cut on his forehead.

The medics had urged him to get his wounds stitched up, or at the very least, checked. But he dismissed it as pointless, with only one thing on his mind: coming home to you.

As soon as the debriefing ended, he hopped into the nearest car, beckoning Rudy and some other vaqueros to join him. A younger member, barely awake, asked, "Where are we going, colonel?" Alejandro gazed at the purple sky with a knowing smile and replied, "Home."

Home.

Alejandro was the colonel, but that didn't mean he didn't care. If anything, he was the exact opposite. He checked on every member, praising some and ordering others to go straight to their family houses to rest. Los Vaqueros were his family, he celebrated their joy and grieved their sorrow as his own.

Even in his most exhausted moments, Alejandro never forgot about his long-time friend and second in command, Rudy. He made sure Rudy reached his family, sain et sauf after every mission, as he had done for the past twenty years.

Alejandro sighed, stopping at the side of the road to check his phone after the last vaquero had left. The background was a selfie of you and him, licking ice cream under the moonlit sky.

You never understood why he liked this picture so deerly, he's been gazing at it for the last two years, whenever he was away from you. As if your sweet smile comforted him and buried his dark thoughts somewhere only you knew.

If anything, it was a sweet picture, tongues out, wide grins, your hair sticking to your foreheads, a proof of the swimming session you two had beforehand.

He remembered it perfectly—the day you got married. Instead of going home, he insisted on going to the beach to have your own celebration. It was surprisingly warm and deserted. Time didn't matter to you—three in the morning. You danced, swirled, and swam in the dark water with your dress on.

To hell with makeup and his suit.

All you wanted was a laugh and a kiss under the moonlit sky. And you never found it lacking, not once, after meeting him.

You were both madly in love. Two fools swimming in an ocean of sanity and adoration. You completed each other. You longed for each other.

Alejandro reached home after the long journey. His muddy boots left traces on the doorstep as he fumbled for his keys, trying to be discreet. It was almost midnight, and he didn't want to wake you—or any of the neighbors.

Before the key even grazed the hole, the door slowly unlocked.

You gazed at Alejandro with a calm smile on your face and uttered, "Welcome home, colonel."

You were silent, still. Gazing at the astonished man. You promised, never quitting this habit of waiting for him.

He complained, nonsense about how you should rest and let him surprise you and bla-bla-bla.

You didn't give in his pleas, not even once.

You were always waiting at the doorstep, every ounce in your body craved a glimpse of your beloved husband.

Alejandro grinned, stepping inside and letting his bag fall to his side. His arms found their way to your sides, sweeping you off your feet and crashing you into his chest as he murmured, feeling a sense of peace wash over him, “Mi mondo… mi todo...”

The embrace was a burning fire, melting both of you into one. Alejandro closed the door with a kick of his heel, slowly stepping into the warm flat.

You cupped his cheek, running your thumb over the cut on his temple. He winced slightly, his eyes shutting before he uttered, "It's nothing...mi amor."

You shook your head, knowing his stubbornness was just a cover to hide his pain. Not because he was afraid of being vulnerable to you, he simply didn't want you to worry. He wished for you to live your ultimest youth, without a single cloud of onus to disturb your shining sun and skies.

You were a Phoenix to him, healing every scar and cut with your gentle touch and soft whispers.

"Come with me."

You guided him upstairs to the bathroom.

The room was hot, steamy with fog clouds floating around you. The black marbelic walls were covered with small beads of water vapor, slowly racing down to the ground.

Alejandro leaned against the door, resting his against the hard material with a long and tired sigh.

You checked the water temperature, motioning for him to climb in the tub. He steeped closer, gazing at the surface of the colorless liquid. His face emerged, and he couldn't help but chuckle. He cupped your cheeks, smiling wearily. "Mi amor, you didn't have to..."

"I wanted to..."

You ran him a warm bath, filled with devotion to the brim.

Just the way he liked it, with oils and conditioner that he enjoyed smelling on you. Alejandro adored every detail about you. Somehow, you had captured his mind and soul within your hands. Your little gestures only served to deepen his affection.

You helped him take off his dirty, blood-soaked clothes—thankfully not his own. The military uniform fell to the floor, followed by his torn shirt. He sighed deeply, shivering slightly as your hands trailed over his scarred skin, the cold sensation leaving goosebumps in its wake.

He remembered when he brought you to the beach, embarrassed about his battle scars, thinking you'd be disgusted by the cuts on his skin. But instead, you cradled his flesh with merciful tenderness, Washing away his worries through kisses scattered on his back. He held back his tears, letting you heal his skin and carve a lasting memory in his mind.

Back to reality, Alejandro smiled at you, his eyebrows furrowing in question at your grinning face. He was wearing cat-printed shorts, and you couldn't help but laugh as he blushed slightly.

There was no tension, no other thoughts, not at this moment at the very least. This precious moment was too good, too perfect to be tainted and corrupted by any sin, even if it wasn't a wrongdoing anyway. He saw it no other way, and neither did you. You helped him wash away the weariness of duty, making him feel at home. Could he ask for more?

Alejandro slowly submerged himself under the water, his head lazily resting on the edge of the tub. He gazed at you, silently observing your every movement. He missed this, missed you deeply. No words could express how desperately he longed for your presence.

You held the shampoo bottle, scooping some product into your hands before lathering it into his now wet hair. He shivered, letting out a contented sigh. You massaged his shoulders, washing away the aches of war and leaving nothing but love that cascaded down his shoulders like honey.

Silence filled the house, the only sounds audible were the hushed breaths he took and the occasional dripping of water from the sink. Finally, wrapped in a large towel and smelling of fresh grass and vanilla, Alejandro sat on the edge of the tub as you searched for band-aids in the small box. He chuckled wearily as you placed a green plaster on his temple.

Standing between his legs, you cupped his face, examining his very being before whispering silently, "I love you, thank you for coming back."

Taken aback, he kissed you, your lips intertwining in a gentle embrace of madness before he uttered, "Thank you for waiting, mi todo."

It was around 2 am, as you lay in bed. The scent of warm chumpurados filled the room, igniting in his soul and heart a longing for home. But, would he complain? He was indeed at home, for his heart and mind resided with you.

Alejandro placed his mug on the nightstand before resting his head on your thigh. You ran your fingers through his dark locks, gently caressing his hair.

Alejandro leaned in, murmuring nonsensical words against your limb. His gratitude was beyond imagination. Without you, he would be lost, despondent. He found his missing piece with you, you little thief, stealing his heart and claiming it as your own. He didn't mind in the slightest, willing to sacrifice his very essence for your sake.

Silently, you asked, "Is something on your mind, mi amor?"

He whispered instantly, his fingers intertwining with your form in a tenderness that would make the clouds shy away. "You... mi cielo."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you broke the silence once more. "I know, mi amor. I meant, is there anything bothering you?"

"No. Nothing at all.. when I am with you, I am so much happier…”

#𓆩♡𓆪 faith writes #cod x reader #cod fic #fanfic #alejandro cod #alejandro mw2 #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro x reader #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x female reader #call of duty #los vaqueros #writblr #cod fanfic #cod mw22 #call of duty mwii #alejandro vargas x you #alejandro call of duty #Alejandro fluff

[scorpioriesling]

Guilty as Sin?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Azriel x reader

Warnings: angsty asf

Summary: It wasn't hard to love your best friend; after all, you'd been through everything together. He'd seen every in-depth part of you, but now you were forced to give all of that up. All because of the stupid cauldron, and stupid fate.

SR’s Note: Brb going to get "mine" tatted on my upper thigh... this is so UGH anyways. I had to; I apologize in advance. This is one of my favorite new songs.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The cauldron could boil itself at this point.

You weren't sure how to make the best of this situation; something you could normally do without fail. A talent everyone loved about you. However, that talent was failing you now.

Now that the bond had snapped, and there was no way out. No way of avoiding what you so desparetely wanted for years, and somehow it all ended up messed up in the end.

Lucien was a good male, you would give him that much; but that wasn't enough. Your life felt near over when your best friend revealed his hidden bond with the Archeron girl -- but now, you were in the same position. Somehow, you were cursed in more ways than one. Not only was your best friend mated to someone else -- but now so were you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"You're right, we should definitely get matching tattoos!" You laughed, bumping into Azriel's arm as you both stumbled down the Velaris streets. It was past midnight, and you were both buzzed from your night out at Rita's -- something you did at least once a week -- and the walk home turned into more of a walk through town.

He chuckled beside you, fingers curling around your elbow to help steady you. His wide smile was a sight you'd never tire of; he rarely let it show, but when he did, you made sure to illustrate it in your mind, holding onto the masterpiece forever.

"It isn't our worst idea..." he admitted, taking another swig from the bottle he held. You watched as his throat bobbed, swallowing the liquid and turning his attention back to you. You look toward the sky, trying and failing to pretend you weren't staring.

"What should we get?" You ask with a grin. He ponders for a moment, brow lifted in mockery. "Hmm.." he says. "What if we got eachother's handwriting?" You giggled, and he laughed with you.

"I'm serious!" He exclaimed. The tattoo parlor was coming into view, and you rolled your eyes. "I don't know if I trust you to literally write on me," you say. "We've been friends for far too long for me to put it past you to write something like "Azriel is so hot" or "Kiss my ass" on me-" You barely get it all out before laughing again, his gaze on you softening as he loops an arm around your shoulders.

"I promise I won't do something so vulgar," he says. You're now in front of the tattoo shop, the neon lights illuminating his face in a deep blue glow. He grabs the door handle and opens it, gesturing you to go inside.

"Ladies first." He smirks. You lightly smack his shoulder, and saunter your way inside.

"Fine -- but you have to go first." You throw over your shoulder. He enters behind you, and within minutes he's put in a chair and the tattoo artist is holding the needle gun over his forearm.

"Okkayyy, 'lil lady," he says, pulling up a stool to allow you to sit beside him. He hands you the gun, and places his hand over yours to help you with the process. "You ready?" he asks. You glance at Azriel, who now has his eyes lightly closed as he lays down on the bed in front of you.

"Are you ready, Azzie?" You say. He nods silently, a small smile playing on his lips. You release a breath as the gun whirrs to life, and the artist guides you to begin pressing into your best friend's skin. Stealing a glance at his face, you find him peacefully laying there, almost sleepy. That would make sense, seeing as you both drank a lot tonight.

After a few minutes of darkening the lines and wiping away the excess liquid, the artist powers down the needle and scoots back on his rolling chair. Your fingers lightly dance over the puffy black lines on his otherwise bare forearm, and he stirs at the sensation.

"Have a look," you say. He opens his eyes and sits up, delight overtaking his features as he sees your work.

"I choose you and me," he says aloud, reading over the ink now drying in his skin. He almost blushes, gazing at the ink and touching it lightly. His eyes meet yours, and in seconds he is hopping up and offerring you the bed. You sit on it, pulling the hem of your shorts up so it's easier to access.

"Heyy..." he starts. "You picked the spot for mine-" You huff.

"I want mine up here," you point to the upper part of your thigh, and he rolls his eyes. He shoots a look to the artist, and shakes his head.

"I've learned to just not argue with this one," he says, and you gasp at him. He laughs, his white teeth shining like stars inside the dim shop. The tattoo artist sighs, powering on the newly replaced tatto gun and handing it to Azriel. You place a hand on your leg, eyes wide.

"You're not gonna help him?" You ask the artist. He only shrugs at you.

"I've seen his work before -- he knows how to do a pretty damn good tattoo." Your eyes narrow toward your best friend, and he only grins down at you.

Sighing, you rest your head back against the cushion of the tattoo bed. "Az, you better not fuck this up-"

You're cut off by his fingers brushing against the skin of your leg, pulling on your shorts to move them slightly. Your breath catches in your throat, now staring wide-eyed down at the man you'd secretly fallen so madly in love with. His messy curls tickled the strips of skin between the hem of your baby tee and the top of your shorts as he stared intently at his work, needle lightly pressing into your skin. His other hand laid flat on your stomach, holding you gently in place.

You couldn't ever get rid of this sight unless someone quite literally ripped it from the archives of your mind.

He glanced up at you, noticing your labored breathing. His soft expression was one he only ever used with you; a stark contrast to the strong, unfazed front he presented to everyone else. You figured he was going to tell you to chill out -- little did he know you weren't focusing on the pain, but rather the striking male on top of you.

"Lay down -- you can't peek 'till I'm done."

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The air was warm as it rolled off the sidra, the salt air so familiar. You'd come down here for some peace; some time away. Since learning of the bond with Lucien, it was like you couldn't escape. You couldn't get away from the constant "Are you okay?"s and "Have you told Azriel?"s and "Do you think you'll accept the bond?"s. It was getting to be too much. No, you weren't okay. No, you did not want to accept the bond.

And fuck no, you did not tell Azriel. You remembered what happened last time when you found out his bond snapped, and you hadn't even seen him in months. There was no point -- it wouldn't change your situation.

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"I made you that strawberry cream cake, you know, your favorite?" Feyre's kind words filled the kitchen as you continued to pour glasses of lemonade, setting down the pitcher to meet her watercolor eyes. You gave her a soft smile.

"Thank you... but whatever for?" Her gaze dropped, fingers fiddling with one another as she looked around nervously. You arched a brow at her.

"Nothing, I just -- I thought you might like it. To celebrate the first day of Summer," she stuttered. You'd never seen her at a loss for words, but before you could think too long about it, Cassian barged into the room, eyes full of delight when he spotted the filled lemonade glasses.

"Ahh," he grabbed one and chugged it, putting it back on the counter after a few gulps as though it was a shot. You giggled, Feyre finding his interruption rather funny as well. He peered at you, sliding the glass over on the counter top.

"Fill 'er up -- Gods, it is so hot outside." He says, fingers fiddling with a small band tying his hair back. You top off his glass, and he takes it again, only sipping this time.

"Are you ladies joining us outside? Or what?" He asks giddily. You swear, if he wasn't a fae bat he would be a golden retriever.

"Absolutely," Feyre nods. He saunters out of the room, and within seconds you spy him by the edge of the Sidra tackling Rhysand into the river with him. They both come up within seconds, laughing and shaking their wet hair. Feyre peers out with you, and your heart catches when you see Azriel not joining in. He is sitting on one of the picnic blankets the group laid out, Elain's head in his lap as he leans back on his hands. She tenses, laughing at something he said. He gives her a smile; one you'd thought only he shared around you.

"I'll meet you outside in just a moment?" Feyre offers. She knew; she knew exactly how you'd felt for Azriel. But, she also knew that he was in some newfound, weird relationship since her sister arrived.

You tried to brush it off. Your best friend had lovers before; most of them only lasted a few weeks anyway, then they were gone. This one would be no different.

Finally making your way down to the river, tray of drinks in your hands, you were greeted by Mor as she helped pass out the drinks. She walked over to Feyre and Cassian; of course, leaving you to head over to Azriel.

You sighed, and walked over to the blanket where he sat. Her annoying laugh rang out again, and you winced. Azriel looked up, finally noting your presence and shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand. The unmistakable black writing on his forearm still reading "I choose you and me". Your heart swells just a bit.

"Y/N! Did you bring us drinks?" He asks nicely. You smile back, appreciating this side of him never failing to come out around his best friend.

"I just might have..." You say. Elain sits up upon hearing your voice, offerring a kind smile. You pass one glass to Azriel, and hold out another for her.

"Thank you Y/N! You must have known lemonade is my favorite," She takes it from you, beaming and turning to Azriel. He nods in agreement, sipping from his drink.

"Lucky guess." You say, grinding your teeth in a tight smile as you set down the empty tray on the grass. She giggles and continues conversing with Azriel, and you decide to not even try to engage this time.

You stalk over to the towel Mor is currently lounging on, her sunglasses set high on her nose. Your body creates a shadow, and she sits up grumbling.

"Ugh, Y/N, I'm trying to get a tan!" Her eyes finally adjust, seeing that you're stripping off your clothes, only a small emerald green bikini underneath. Her mouth pops open and she gasps, loud enough for everyone to hear. You're kicking off your shoes when she takes her glasses off and gapes at you.

"Girl, I'd let you stand over me any day -- you look good as fuck!" She squeals. You roll your eyes, her loud appraisal catching attention as she continues to compliment you.

"Seriously! Feyre, have you seen Y/N's suit? She is looking like fine wine-" She looks you up and down, and you notice behind her, Feyre has jogged over to where her friend Lucien has just arrived. Feyre turns her attention to you over Morrigan's whooping and hollering, giving you a thumbs up

"Looks good! I told you it would!" She shouts. She turns back to her Autumn court friend, but his eyes are drinking you in as though you are the wine itself. You steal a glance at Azriel, and boy are you glad you did -- he is pissed. He is glaring at Lucien as Elain babbles on, absentmindedly. She doesn't even realize he isn't listening to her anymore. You bend down, coming face to face with your bubbly blonde friend.

"Swim with me?" You say. She scoffs, tossing her sunglasses down and rising. You both walk to the bank of the Sidra, its gleaming water only inviting you in further.

"You know I'd never deny you, but I did want to lay out-" She is cut off by a strangled scream as Cassian yanks her in by the waist, her head reappearing moments later. Breathless, she pants.

"Cassian! Are you kidding?" Him and Rhysand only laugh, you shaking your head and chuckling along with them. You slowly enter the warm water, basking in the last few warm days the year has to offer. Mor wades past you, and makes to get out of the stream.

"Aww what! Where you goin'?" You whine pathetically. She runs her fingers through her soaked locks, huffing.

"I. Am not. Swimming. With those knuckleheads. Any longer." She stomps back over to her towel, and you stick your bottom lip out in feigned sadness.

"Aww, come on, Mor! You're already wet, just get back in and swim for a while!" You say. It isn't long before a splash to your left flings water near you, and you look around for a few moments before something grabs your ankles and drags you under. You come up a few moments later, Azriel resurfacing in front of you and laughing at your drenched complexion.

"I'll play." He says lowly. You shove his shoulder, and Mor waves a hand from her blanket, sunglasses already back on her face.

"Yes, yeah. Let Az play with you."

It isn't long before you're splashing around with your friends, everyone swimming besides Morrigan and Elain. Even Lucien has joined in, the water twirling his fiery locks over his shoulders. Maybe in another life, you'd fall in love with him.

But you're living this one, and you're still in love with your best friend.

"Hey, uhh," Azriel swims close to you, the sunset on the horizon illuminating his tanned skin. You can feel his hands creating water riplets around you to stay afloat, and you gaze at him. "Can we, like, swim over there? Maybe?" He asks, jerking his head toward the rocky alcove a few hundred feet away. Your eyes widen as you try not to think too hard about why he'd want you in there with him instead of his girlfriend; so you glance over to where everyone else is drying off and gathering their items. Elain is staring a hole into the side of your head.

"Sure," you say, timidly. Azriel grabs your hand under the water, his scarred fingers threading through yours with ease. You suck in a breath, and Azriel throws a smile towards Elain.

"We'll be in soon!" He shouts, and she returns the smile, almost a little smugly. She helps her sister collect the items from the grass, and Azriel stars swimming away, pulling you with him.

"Why did we need to come over here?" You ask, out of breath when he finally stops swimming behind a large rock. You can't see your friends anymore. You glance around nervously.

"Well, I had something I needed to talk to you about." He says. "Privately," he adds. Your cheeks heat. Its finally here, the moment has finally come.

"Oh, um. Okay. I think I have something I talk to you about too." You say. His eyebrows raise, and he smiles kindly at you.

"Oh! Alright. Well, why don't you go first then." He offers.

"I don't really... know... how to explain it." You fumble. The breeze blows over the water, pulling you away a bit. Azriel reaches for you, probably to hold you close but his hand grips onto your waist. He pulls a little too hard, and you're flush against his chest. His intense hazel eyes bore into yours, tiny water droplets dripping from the end of his onyx curls. Its silent for a moment, the mixed heavy breathing the only sound other than the nature around you. You gaze up at him, his eyes trailing down from your eyes... to your lips... then down to where your heaving chest rises and falls beneath the water's surface. Your eyes can't escape his full lips, and you snake your hands around his neck, pulling him in so impossibly close and close the gap.

Finally, after all these years, you get to taste those delicious lips on yours. You kiss him, softly, and when he pulls back, he looks at you with sorrow.

"Y/N... I..."

"I don't mind, Azriel. You know I love you; I want this. I would choose this. I choose you and me." Silver lines his eyes and you don't think you've ever seen him get so emotional. You pull him to you once more, kissing with more hunger this time, and he doesn't stop you. His hand scoops under your ass, squeezing and holding you tight, the other one flat against the side of your neck. His thumb brushes along your cheekbone as your fingers curl into his wet locks, when suddenly he rips away from you. He lets go as if he was a bug caught in a zapper, flinging himself away from you like you had electrocuted him. You instantly feel colder without his touch.

"W-what's wrong?" You ask, timidly. He runs a hand through his hair, and rubs his eyes with his palms, sighing.

"What is it, Azriel?" You ask, moving closer. He puts a hand out to stop you, and you begin to feel regret. No, not regret. Fear.

"Don't, Y/N." He says. You eyes close, near slits as you try and keep the sob rising in your throat at bay. He's never taken that tone with you before.

"Don't what? Be honest with you? Azriel, I love you, and-"

"I have a mate, Y/N." He cuts you off. You feel like you've been stabbed in the gut, thrown off a cliff; what was he talking about?

"W-what?" You ask. That sob is barely at bay, tears stinging your eyes as you try to keep from crying. He moves his hands to look at you, and immediately sighs and looks down at the water, hating to do this.

"Yeah... uh, Elain and I-"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." You huff a humorless laugh and a single tear slips free. You don't bother brushing it away; you just cross your arms instead. He narrows his eyes at you.

"What is your problem with her?" He asks. The sinking feeling in your chest only intensifies as he defends her. You begin to feel angry, angry your best friend, who you'd die for, would defend another dumb girl who didn't know him like you did. Not even in the slightest.

"What is the problem with me?" You ask. He shoots you a confused look, and you continue. "Am I not quite good enough for you? Is that it? I'm not an Archeron, I'm not High Fae; I'm not officially in the Inner Circle? I don't-" You breathe, gasping for air as tears run down your cheeks now. "I don't look like her? I get it Azriel. I fucking got it. Loud and clear-"

"Shhh, shh shh. Heyy," he swims close, offerring you his hand. You want more than anything to fall into his chest and cry, just cry it all out; but you don't. You won't. He doesn't want you. He never did.

"You know none of that is true-"

"Don't bother." You say sharply. He sighs, dropping his hands in the water.

"Y/N, look I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, okay? You know how important mating bonds are; I just wanted to make sure it was real, and it would work and Feyre would be okay with it-"

"You... you already told. Feyre?" You seethe. His eyes widen, realizing maybe he shouldn't have revealed that information.

"I, uh... yeah. I did. And once she knew, it kind of got out and everyone knew," he mumbles. You clench your hands into fists.

Your favorite cake.

Elain's smug smile.

"Let Az play with you," Mor had said.

They all knew. No one told you. Not even your best friend. They knew you'd be hurt and not a single one of them told you. A small cry reverberates in your chest and you turn away from Azriel.

"Please don't be mad at me, Y/N. You know you're my best friend, you know I'd do anyth-"

"Save it." You say, wading toward the water's edge. "We're done here."

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You hadn't seen him since he accepted his bond with Elain six months ago; you couldn't even bring yourself to sit through the entire ceremony they hosted. It was all too much.

That was the first crushing blow. But then, to find out that not only had he accepted the bond and been happy about it, but now you were bonded to someone you didn't want either?

What a joke. The mating bond was a joke -- it had to be. All these years of believing that bonds were so special... it was all bullshit.

As you sit near the bank, you hear footsteps approaching behind you. You didn't quite care who it was; after all, you were so deep in loathing that you had grown distant from all of your friends over the past few months. It didn't help that the last words you'd hurled at them were unkind, but... maybe it's what they needed to hear. They did keep a huge thing from you, and you haven't even begun to figure out how to move on yet.

Moving on from Azriel sounded like it would be the end for you. You didn't know how you'd ever do it -- it was always him. There never was anyone else for you. You only wanted him.

And now he was honeymooning with his mate. Fucking her. Loving her. Allowing her to know him on a level only you'd ever been on.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks when a whisper pulls you from your thoughts.

"Y/N?"

You turn slowly, the last person you'd expected to see standing behind you. His hair was windblown, his skin tan from the Summer court sun. He had a few light freckles dusting his nose.

Upon seeing your upset state, he slowly approached you, and sat down beside you. Staring out at the water, you continued to let the tears fall, chin resting on your bent knees. His gaze was hot as he stared at you, taking you in fully.

"Y/N... this isn't okay... you're-" his voice cracks. "You're not okay." He whispers the last part, and your eyes meet his. Tears stream down his cheeks, dripping onto the cream colored button-down he's sporting. Typical Summer court fashion, but you should expect that as he did just spend time there.

He grabs onto your shoulders, pulling you to his chest. You have no choice but to sink in, open sobs emitting from your broken hearted chest. He breaths deeply, resting his chin atop your head. A drop of water lands on your shoulder, a tear. It's from him.

He holds you for a few minutes, allowing you to release all your emotions. He sighs, the sun dipping low alolng the horizon. You finally pull back and look at him. Nothing was going to change about your situation.

Your eyes caught on the black letters still imprinting his arm, fresh tears brimming your eyes.

"I hate seeing you like this," he says, sniffing. "You're my best friend Y/N. You always find the good in every situation, in everyone... that's why everyone loves you so much. You saw the good in me when no one else did." He says, rubbing your shoulder. You train your eyes on the grass below.

"I hate this too. But I love you," you say, not looking to meet his eyes. "If this is what is making you happy, I love that for you." He takes one of your hands in his.

"Y/N, it's just... Gods, this is a mess." He says. You let out a humorless laugh.

"Yeah. Even more of a mess now that I have a mate too." His eyes widen, and you look up just in time to see something swimming in those hazel orbs.

"Oh." He says. He drops your hand, but you reach over and place yours on top of where his now rests in his lap.

"The difference is, I would still choose you and me." You say, and he wipes a tear from your cheek. "I would always choose you and me. Because you're my best friend Azriel; and I love you. I don't know how to stop." You say. You lean back, resting your head in the grass as he gets comfortable laying beside you. His fingertips graze over the spot where he'd written on you -- marked you -- years back, reiterating the sentiment he'd etched there.

"And you're mine, too."

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Part 2

#acotar smut #a court of frost and starlight #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #acotar #lucien acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel smut

[erinawritesheadcanons2]

Could I ask for either a poly or love triangle with the DreamTale twins? They’re my comfort characters and I’m not doing too well emotionally recently. Love what I’ve read of your work! Have a good day! <3

Nightmare Sans and Dream Sans Love Triangle Headcanons, Ink and Error Love Triangle, Underfell Sans and Underswap Sans Love Triangle

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A/N: Hello there @artsyfangirl! I hope you do not mind that I am adding Fell and Blueberry as well as Ink and Error. Just take it as a bonus for you since you don't really have a good day!

Warning: Cursing from Fell

Gender: Neutral

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Nightmare Sans and Dream Sans

Almost impossible because the two of them are different and we cannot forget that Dream Sans and Nightmare Sans would always fight with each other as Nightmare is the leader of Bad Sanses and Dream Sans is the leader of Star Sanses.

It is like a war because the two of them are going to end up fighting with each other despite the war between the Bad Sanses and the Star Sanses ended many years ago but it's not as aggressive between Ink and Error Sans

Dream Sans going to steal your attention by trying to make you laugh with his silly antics or his stupid but funny jokes as he would talk with you.

He would also try to steal your attention by giving small but meaningful gifts, something like little trinkets, keychains, or maybe a hand-made sweet ( I headcanon that Dream can bake).

And he would also always listen to you talking about anything even though he does not understand. He would try to understand them and give the response that you want but sometimes....it fails.

Unlike Dream, Nightmare is much less obvious when he tries to steal your attention away from Dream Sans. He would secretly tell you about all the bad things Dream did.

When Dream is not around, he keeps you in his room and not letting you go out but keeps you around as his tentacles would hold you. Sometimes, his words could make you turn red because he would whisper those 'You look dazzling my dear in this outfit but you look even more amazing if you don't wear them.' (AYO- WHAT THE FUCK)

Trying to impress you by showing you what Dream might not have but he has it (For example, if you love the library. He would allow you to read the books in there and he would be your tutor).

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The stars sparkle under the darkness of the sky and two creatures stand together to see all of the stars since the stars shine the brightest at twelve at midnight. A skeleton with a golden cape and light blue jacket standing close next to his crush. They/he/she has (H/C) hair colour with (H/L) hair length with a pair of mesmerizing (E/C) eye colours and (S/C) skin colour.

Using his powers and the staff he always brought around, he created a portal into the Outertale Universe, a place where the stars were brighter than ever, and dreams seemed to come to life. (Y/N) was completely captivated by the mesmerizing beauty of the Outertale Universe. The stars twinkled with an enchanting light, and the whole place exuded a sense of peace.

On the other realm were a pair of cyan eyes seeing the sight from the crystal ball. A skeleton with tentacles and goopy slime all over him watched his brother being romantic to (Y/N) from the shadows, jealousy brewing within him as he saw Dream Sans and (Y/N) together in the Outertale Universe.

It did not take much time for a dark and swirling portal to appear far away from where Dream Sans and (Y/N) stood together to enjoy the sight of the stars, and ominous black tentacles emerged. They snaked towards you, reaching out like a rubber band and wrapping around (Y/N).

The cold sensation around the waist made (Y/N) (L/N) gasps in aghast, horror, and surprise. It was tight enough so you could not escape from the grip but it was not hard enough to hurt you in any way since he did not want you to get hurt. Nightmare Sans, who had been lurking in the shadows, had seized this opportunity to snatch you away from Dream Sans

Dream Sans was taken aback, a mixture of shock and horror painted across his usually cheerful face. In the blink of an eye, the person with (H/C) hair colour and (S/C) skin colour was taken away from Dream Sans and Outertale, leaving him in a stupor. "Oh no! I should go to Nightmare's castle!" He pulled out the staff from his belt.

On the other side of the world, (Y/N) crosses her/his/their arms together and stares at the goopy skeleton with a black stare. You are clearly not amused by his little stunt. "What are you looking at, don't give me that look," Nightmare Sans rolls his pinpricks. "Really? Suddenly kidnapping me out of nowhere when I was hangout with Dream?" (Y/N) squints her/his/their eyes. "Ughh, what so great about Outertale? I can bring you there every day if you want. I could even bring you to a better place," Nightmare scoffs.

The battle between the two brothers raged on, neither willing to back down as they wanted your attention and no one else could have it. . As this pattern continued, (Y/N) grew increasingly not amused with Dream Sans and Nightmare Sans constantly kidnapping her/him/them out of nowhere.

The constant fighting between the two skeleton brothers had become more of a burden than a romantic pursuit, and they/she/he wished for a way to break free from this never-ending cycle. "You two really acting like five years old. I'm even more impressed nowadays kids seem to be more mature than you two," (Y/N) mutters.

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Ink Sans and Error Sans

If the love triangle between Nightmare and Dream Sans is already bad. Ink Sans and Error Sand would be much worse than those two because they would constantly FIGHT for your attention.

It is so bad that sometimes it feels like you could just take a chair and popcorn just to watch the drama between these two because they would fight for anything, not just your attention.

Ink Sans when trying to get your attention is by bringing you to the portal and showing you all of the beautiful Alternate Universes to impress you since he is the protector of Aus.

He would also just steal you away when you have free time to draw together with him. Sometimes, he would throw bits of compliments on your drawing, even if it was bad. He just likes your creativity.

He would also try to create something out of his paintbrush, small gifts maybe something adorable such as plushies and giving it to you to make you happy.

Error Sans is not as romantic as Ink Sans sadly so he had difficulty stealing your attention but I can see that he would bring you to some beautiful AUS despite him being an AU's destroyer, to watch the star.

Protects you from the other skeletons surprisingly and not letting anyone touch you, especially Ink Sans as he glares at the protector of AU's since he knows Ink also has a crush on you.

Also, he's a bit of a bully. To get your attention, he would make fun of you and give you tons or ridiculous nicknames just to piss you off and he's always amused each time you react to him.

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On the small beanbag inside of the living room, a person with (H/C) hair colour with (H/L) hair length and a pair of (E/C) eye colour as well as (S/C) skin colour sitting on it with books sprawled around the small chair. (Y/N) had been enjoying a peaceful afternoon, nestled comfortably in the bean bag. Their/her/his eyes scan every word of the book.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, the perfect ambience for your novel. You had just begun to immerse yourself in the world of words when, out of nowhere, a mysterious portal appeared in the corner of the room. The portal was glowing with the colour of the rainbow decorating it.

Startled by the sudden appearance of the portal, (Y/N) dropped their book, their heart racing. From the portal emerged the skeleton with a spot of ink on his cheek, a giant paintbrush on his back and a giant brown cape draped on his back. The protector of the multiverse as he would protect the universes from certain skeletons.

"Hey (Y/N)!" Ink said cheerfully, a wide smile on his face. "What are you doing?" "I was just reading, Ink. What's going on?" Still, a bit bewildered by the unexpected visit, (Y/N) stammered to Ink Sans. "Well, I had this idea for some collaborative drawing, and I thought, who better to join me than you? We could create something amazing together!" Ink's pinpricks twinkled in excitement.

(Y/N) was initially hesitant because the books that you had been reading had not finished and it was in the chapter where the main character faced their rival. But the idea of spending time drawing and the thought about the possibility of creating art together with Ink sounded fun too. "Sure, why not? Let's go," (Y/N) agreed with a smile.

With a bright smile, Ink Sans gestured for (Y/N) to follow him back through the portal and leave behind the book that (Y/N) still had not finished. But all of that excitement was gone as (Y/N) and Ink went inside the portal. Unsurprisingly, there is another guest who was not invited by Ink. "Oh no....you gotta be kidding me," Ink sighs.

The skeleton stepped off from the strings once he saw Ink and (Y/N) on the ground. The familiar black skeleton with a black coat, blue hood and black slippers strutted up to both Ink Sans and (Y/N). "iT HaS BeEn SuCh a LonG Time Isn'T it? bUddY?" A smug smile spread across his face. "Error, Leave us alone. You had already spent time with (Y/N) yesterday. Today is my turn," Ink Sans rolls his pinpricks. "NaAh. I Don't ThiNK sO," Another portal appears behind him.

Ink Sans quickly took the giant paintbrush from his back so he could create a shield for you but he was too late because the strings were wrapped on every one of your limbs. Error Sans created another portal of his own and, with (Y/N) wrapped on his strings, stepped into it, disappearing from Ink's realm.

You couldn't help but let out a sigh of frustration. Turning to Error Sans, he was smirking and holding you as if you were his captive. "Error, you know we spent time together yesterday. You could have given Ink a chance. This isn't fair to him," you scold him,your irritation was evident in your tone.

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Underfell Sans and Underswap Sans

A love triangle between Underfell Sans, You, and Underswap Sans might be a little ridiculous because it feels like you are taking care of a skeleton that acts like a golden retriever and also some kind of skeleton that acts like an emo with anger issues.

The other one is going to bully you just to get your attention and just to see your reaction and the other one is trying to hog all of your attention and will follow you everywhere.

Underswap Sans can be a little bit of an attention seeker because he would try to make tacos ( and end up burning all of them or using the wrong condiment and creating something inedible).

If you are busy, would give you that sad look on you before begging you to hang out with him and when Underfell was too late to ask you, he would secretly smirk.

He actually knows that he does look innocent and cute despite he hate of getting called cute but when Fell was angry at him and you saw him. He will use his cuteness to get you on his side.

Underfell Sans can be a bully just like Error Sans but a little bit worse because he won't just be calling you ridiculous names. He would make you dress up for a deal, make you watch a scary movie, and be a menace.

Not surprisingly he would bring you to Grillby's bar to hang out with you and surprisingly he asked Grilly to help him out. Even though, he would end up having more tabs. He would pay for your meals and drinks as he wants you to taste the monster food too.

Underfell Sans also steals your attention by playing games together with you. I believe he knows many great games and he always invites you to play a multiplayer game with him.

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The temperature of the kitchen is rising as the sun goes up in the middle of the day, a person with luscious (H/C) hair and striking (E/C) eyes sat in the kitchen, typing away on your computer. The soft glow of her screencast a warm, amber hue across your face, illuminating the (E/C) eye colours.

It had been a long day, and they/she/he was racing against the clock to finish the mountain of files that had been assigned to her/him/them by the old-bladed head manager. But it won't stop nature from doing its job as (Y/N)'s stomach chooses this inopportune moment to growl with hunger.

You could not help but let out a quiet sigh, torn between your desire for food or the commitment to completing the tasks that had piled up. (Y/N) knew that they/she/he couldn't afford to lose any more time, but the rumbling stomach seemed to have other plans. With a heavy heart, (Y/N) decided to take a brief break.

She/he/they stood up from the chair and stretched their/her/his tired limbs and (Y/N) knew a hungry tummy would only distract the process of working and finishing the papers. In the fridge, you found some leftover chicken and colourful bell peppers. It was the perfect opportunity to whip up something quick and satisfying.

Before (Y/N) could make something, you could hear someone scream, "Mwehehehee! The magnificent blue is here!" Startled, (Y/N) turns around to see Underswap Sans. "Oh, hey Blue. Do you need anything?" (Y/N) tilts their/her/his head a little bit in curiosity. "Human! I heard your stomach grumbling! It was quite loud, human! how 'bout I whip up some tasty tacos for you??" The skeleton asks.

(Y/N) couldn't help but glance up at the ceiling, remembering that the Jolly Skeleton wasn't the best cook. His previous attempt at making tacos had been a disaster, he managed to burn them, and then, in a whimsical attempt to salvage the situation, he had sprinkled glitter on the charred mess. (Y/N) had tried to be polite and take a bite, but it had been quite a horrible mistake.

As (Y/N) hesitated, contemplating whether to accept his offer or not, the door to the kitchen from the living room was suddenly slammed open, causing both Underswap Sans and (Y/N) to jump in surprise. Standing in the doorway was Underfell Sans. "Oi, loser, You said you're hungry? Why don't we get some grillby on the corner? The dumb baby tacos aren't edible for your intestine," Underfell Sans grumbled as he glanced at Underswap Sans.

(Y/N) felt relieved as Underfell Sans gave a solution or an easy way out of the situation. You didn't want to hurt Underswap Sans's feelings, but you also didn't want to endure another round of eating burnt glittery tacos. (Y/N) turned to Underswap Sans and gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks for the offer, Sans, but I think I'll go with Underfell Sans this time. I'm craving for French fries," You told him. "B-but those are unhealthy! They have so much grease!" Underswap Sans said.

Underswap Sans couldn't hide the disappointment that washed over him when (Y/N) rejected his offer. He let out a resigned sigh and watched as Underfell Sans escorted (Y/N) out of the kitchen. There was a pang of sadness in his eye sockets before his eyes shifted to Underfell Sans who silently glared at him, puffing his cheeks altogether.

He turned to look at Underfell, who was secretly smirking at him. Underfell was well aware that he had managed to steal (Y/N)'s attention away, and the competitive edge between the two skeletons continued to burn.

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#undertale au #undertale alternate universe #undertale headcanons #undertale imagines #undertale scenarios #underswap sans #underswap sans x reader #blue sans #blueberry sans #underfell sans #underfell sans x reader #fell sans #ink sans #ink sans x reader #error sans x reader #error sans #nightmare sans #nightmare sans x reader #dream sans #dream sans x reader #underswap #underfell #dreamtale

[tangibletechnomancy]

Doing It Wrong On Purpose: Episode 1 - The Un-Ship

Today's experiment: What happens if I prompt for something, and then negative prompt all the main keywords, plus various synonyms and related words?

The answer: Some gloriously weird stuff.

For example, let's look at a negative cat:

Positive prompt: A cat on a windowsill during a storm

Negative prompt: Cat, feline, felidae, kitty, kitten, animal, pet, windowsill, window, glass, pane, house, storm, rain, water, lightning, thunder, clouds, torrent, downpour, snow, blizzard, wind, windy

Interesting! Let's get a little more fantasy with it and try for an anti-deer:

Positive prompt: A deer in a peaceful flowery meadow, crystals, midnight, fantasy, colorful

Negative prompt: Deer, cervidae, animal, elk, moose, stag, doe, fawn, reindeer, antelope, cervid, antlers, flowers, night, dark, trees, foliage, bloom, stars, night, tranquil, fantastic, vibrant, cool, magic, blue, moon, sky, crystal, stone, statue, topiary, floral, blossom

Between these two experiments, including a few dozen other generations that remain unposted, one thing I can say for sure is that for living subjects, it's a great way to get the kind of anatomical wonk that older models are (in)famous for - and it makes sense why, the model is trying to make something that looks like a certain subject...but once it starts to look too much like it, well, shit, we told it NOT to do that! Break something up! Given that I love that kind of wonk, I think I've found a useful tool for myself.

One more living subject, and let's get even more abstract with our direction here:

Positive prompt: mind horse

Negative prompt: horse, equine, colt, filly, mare, stallion, bronco, pony, mind, brain, thought, essence, psyche, intelligence, consciousness, imagination, dream, soul, visualization, intellect, wit, cognizance

Now let's try something that isn't alive. One thing I love AI for is surreal settings and landscapes - lets try one now!

Positive prompt: A magic palace garden made of crystal and gold

Negative prompt: Palace, magic, crystal, gold, fantasy, castle, estate, stronghold, temple, garden, flowers, plants, blossoms, bloom, blooms, trees, grass, stems, foliage, leaves, greenery, branches, bush, bushes, hedge, hedges, metal, luxury, stone, glass, brass, rose, polished, jewel, prism, courtyard

I then tried to see if, learning from the animal subjects, I could make it more likely to return one of my favorite "mistakes" - making it impossible to discern the point where a water area ends and a sky area begins. I wasn't immediately successful, but I came up with some results I found pleasing regardless-

Positive prompt: Secret hideout in a cave behind a waterfall in the foggy forest on a floating sky island in fluffy clouds

Negative prompt: hideout, camp, campsite, home, abode, house, dwelling, rest, shelter, waterfall, water, cave, grotto, forest, woods, woodland, trees, fountain, cascade, pond, stream, lake, river, brook, puddle, creek, pool, beach, ocean, sea, cloud, clouds, sky, cumulus, cirrus, nimbus, fog, storm, rain, sunshower, falls

It seems that with landscapes it's got a much clearer and more specific "idea" of what a [SUBJECT] without [SUBJECT] looks like; it's more inclined to invent very specific, very consistent unasked for related elements. With the animals, I was tweaking the weight on the positive prompt to avoid getting straightforwardly just what I had positive (and negative) prompted, but with landscapes, I just get... almost something else entirely.

So how about inanimate objects? Let's try a ship, perhaps?

Positive prompt: A huge sailing ship with brilliant prismatic crystal sails on a stormy, turbulent sea of sunset clouds

Negative prompt: ship, boat, sailboat, sailing ship, pirate ship, galleon, ketch, schooner, sloop, cutter, sail, sea, ocean, storm, wind, rain, water, waves, cloudy, clouds, fog, sunset, dusk, dawn, sunrise, twilight, evening

...okay, I'm in love with the un-ship. It truly does manage to consistently give me results that look like, yet entirely unlike, a ship. It is everything I love about AI as a medium. More than that, it is my friend.

At lower positive prompt weights, they only get even more beautifully chaotic.

I want to live on one of these (in an alternate universe where they're geometrically possible and structurally sound, that is).

Failing that, I will be featuring them a lot from now on.

All images generated using Simple Stable, under the Code of Ethics of Are We Art Yet?

#ai art #generated art #simple stable #stable diffusion

[drabblesandimagines]

Motorcycle Rides

Pairings: Sebastian x you

Wordcount: 1623

You limped out of the mine, your pack heavy with materials. That last bunch of slimes had really taken it out of you and as you’d realized your strength was depleting, you’d turned on your heels and ran, only to twist your ankle on a rock.

You leant heavily against the wall, trying to catch your breath in the cool night air. Truth be told, you’d lost all track of time in the mines and it was now just before midnight on a Tuesday for goodness’ sake. You’d hoped to get to bed at a decent time for once, despite your endless to-do list. You’d only meant to be in the mines an hour or two tops!

After your heart had stopped pounding, you reached down and tentatively prodded at your ankle before wincing at the pain. It was already swelling and that probably wasn’t a great sign. This was a situation you hadn’t considered before embarking on your new life in Pelican Town – what exactly do you do in an emergency? There was Harvey’s clinic, but that would involve limping down there and waking him up over your own stupidity.

If you were going to be limping anywhere, you might as well limp home. Heck, the town was gossiping about you enough, you didn’t want your midnight trip to the clinic to be their next topic. You took a deep breath and took a step – there was a sharp ache that immediately dulled, but it was tolerable? It had to be tolerable, you concluded, as you took another shuffling step. It might take you all night, but you were determined to get home.

It was slow, painful progress as you found yourself walking past the carpenter’s house.

“Farmer?”

You jumped from the voice, your ankle immediately twisting on its side and you fell flat to the ground on your back, groaning.

“Sorry…” a figure appeared above you, looking down with an apologetic smile. It was the carpenter’s son… Sebastian? “I didn’t think you’d be so jumpy with being out so late and all.”

“I… I guess I just thought everyone in this town was a bed by 10pm on a week night crowd.”

“Well, the majority are. Er…” He hesitated, almost as if he was debating something in his head before he offered his hand. “Can I help you up?”

“Thanks.” Truth be told, you weren’t sure how graceful you would be at getting up without his assistance, so you happily accepted. In a combination of not expecting him to be as strong as he was and your weakened ankle, you were ill-prepared for getting back to your own two feet. You nearly went falling back down when Sebastian caught you in his arms and you threw yours around his neck. From your glow ring, you could clearly see the black-haired man’s face had flushed red.

“Sorry, that’s us city folk”, you tried to make light of the situation. “We swoon at any country man.”

That didn’t seem to help as – you didn’t think it was possible – his face had gone even more red.

“Er… here,” he tilted you upright, trying to get you to stand on your own two feet. You tried to comply, but your ankle collapsed underneath you, the sharp jolt of pain bringing tears to your eyes. You grabbed hold of his upper arm in a fierce grip. “You all right there?”

“No… I-I’ve hurt my ankle,” you swallowed, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I was in the mines and I twisted it. I thought I could limp home on it but that seems like a really dumb idea.”

“Ah…” Sebastian mumbled. “Erm, should I wake Maru? She works at the clinic part-time, she’ll probably know what to do.”

“No, please don’t. People are talking about me enough without adding this to the mix. I’ll be okay. I’ll just… I’ll take five and then it’ll be okay. You should go home.”

“I mean, I don’t know exactly how things go down in Zuzu City, but I can’t exactly go to bed and leave you out here.”

“That’s exactly how things would go down in Zuzu City. You’re a natural.” You grimaced.

“Er…” Sebastian paused. “Wait, I think I’ve got an idea. Do you wanna sit?”

You blushed, before mumbling, “I don’t think I could with any sense of grace.”

“I got you,” an arm wrapped around your waist and helped you down towards the ground.

“Right, I’ll be back in a moment.” He turned and went to head back up to his house.

“Wait, Sebastian…” He spun on his heels and looked at you quizzically. “Thank you.”

He smiled shyly, before walking out of sight, swallowed by the darkness.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when Sebastian eventually returned. There was a brief moment when you thought he wasn’t coming back. Maybe it was some sort of Pelican Town hazing… The black-haired man eventually reappeared, wheeling along a motorcycle in tow towards you before stopping.

“So, it’s not working reliably at the moment – I’ve been working on fixing it up. But I thought you could sit on it and I can wheel it along back to the farm? Means you can take the weight off your ankle and get home and ice it, I guess? Or heat. One of those.”

“Honestly, you don’t have to do this. It’s so late.” You protested, embarrassed that your antics had led to this.

“I’ll be up for hours yet anyway. Plus, I’m curious to see what you’ve done with the land and it’ll get you home – win-win.” He put the bike’s kick stand out to balance the machine, before crouching down and offering his hand again.

You hesitated. “Only if you’re really sure.”

“I’m positive. Come on.”

You took it, allowing him to pull you up fully this time and you made sure to let your uninjured leg take all the weight. “Hop on.” He kept a tight grip on your hand as you swung your injured leg over the seat and boosted yourself up onto it.

“Cool. Right, er, probably best if you hold onto the handles too.” You followed his instructions, and he leant over, positioning his hands next to yours before kicking the stand back in place. There was a momentary wobble before you found your balance and Sebastian moved forward, pushing it along up towards the path you knew would lead back to your farm.

“What were you doing out so late? Not that I’m complaining,” you quickly rectified.

“I got wrapped up in work and forgot to get out today. I thought I’d have the night to myself,” he teased. “Was that your first trip down the mines?”

“Oh, gosh, no. The Adventure’s Guild and Marlon gave me some tips and I think that was my fifth trip. I probably went down a bit too far for the equipment I have, but to get better equipment I need money and the mine’s good for making a quick buck. Crops take their sweet time…”

“Ah, makes sense.” He nodded.

“What do you do?”

“I’m a freelance programmer. It’s okay, it means I can choose my own work hours. I’m more productive later in the day, so…”

“Oh, really? That’s so cool.”

You fell into a companionable silence. Thankfully, it wasn’t a long walk back to the farm and Sebastian let out a whistle as he admired your work so far.

“Wow, this looks different.”

“A good different?” You frowned.

“Of course. You’ve been busy – this was all weeds and rocks the last time I was out here. What are you growing?”

“Just potatoes and turnips – they’ll be out of season soon but I should get another load out… if I can keep the crows at bay.”

He wheeled the motorcycle up to the bottom of your porch, eyeing the steps. “Er, do you want a hand up the stairs?”

“If you don’t mind…” You mumbled – you weren’t convinced hopping up them would be a winning formula. Sebastian put the kick stand back down, then assisted you off his motorcycle. He hooked an arm around your back, just under your armpits to steady you as you hopped towards the stairs, and then took a big leap up the first one as he kept your balance. You were extremely grateful there were only three stairs and you exhaled in relief now safely at your front door.

“Thank you so much, Sebastian. I wish there was something I could give you in return…” You trailed off as he began to protest, but then you remembered – there was that cool-looking mineral you’d found earlier… You dug around in your satchel, leaning heavily on your front door, until your fingers found the smooth surface.

You withdrew it and Sebastian’s eyes lit up. “A frozen tear?”

“Is that what it is? Some weird creature dropped it – I think it came from deeper down in the mines. I thought it must be special. I was going to take it to Gunther tomorrow to identify, but it seems you’re a fan, so, please…”, you pushed it into his hands, “Take it.”

“No, I couldn’t…”

“I insist.” You unlocked the door behind you before he could really protest. “Goodnight, Sebastian. And, hey, every time you look at it, you can remember the time you helped the idiot farmer home.”

“Goodnight…” He continued to stare at the mineral in his hands as he heard your door open and close, “But I’m totally going to remember the time I helped the cute farmer home.” He said that a little louder than he intended and blushed, glancing up to see your door firmly closed at least.

Fortunately, your window was open and you’d definitely heard.

#sebastian stardew x reader #drabbles #fluff writing #sebastian x reader #stardew imagines #stardew valley #sdv sebastian x reader #ghostdogwrites