#[wakes up in a cold sweat] what. what happened. where am i?

[moodymisty]

Could we get some more of Theo the Lamenter and his serf girlfriend, please? Maybe something NSFW?

They're just so sweet together!

Author's note: slight continuation to this post where Theo returns to his mea- love 🖤 did the ladder half while I'm in the hospital and am posting it right as I get ready for surgery, hope it still reads ok!

Relationships: Theo (Lamenter oc)/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Period kink, Oral (female receiving) Blood,

When Theo enters the restrictive confines of his quarters, the heady smell of iron and blood instantly fills his nose, heavy in his throat. He can taste it on the back of his tongue, and his mouth begins to fill with drool.

He closes the door behind him and it hisses shut, leaving him in the tight confines at last. He never imagined he would miss it; Barely wider than his outstretched arms with his cot and a few other small things. Now that you live in here with him, the underside of the cot filled with your things- he was much more amenable to the concept of this being a place he wanted to return to.

A home, one might say.

You're asleep curled in the blankets spread across his cot, many of them from your own quarters. The ship runs cold, and you lack his body mass to create enough heat on your own. When he's with you it's easy for you to steal his body heat, curling into the nook of his armpit and side, but when he's gone you're forced to use the copious amounts of blankets. They don't bother him, as long as your much more fragile body is well.

Theo knows you'll want him to wake you up so you can see him, as he doesn't know how long he will have with you this time. Stepping closer he leans down and jostles your shoulder, your head turning away from how it was smushed into the pillow.

He takes a breath, trying to withhold his hunger.

"Love, I have returned."

The way you go to face him and light up warms him, how despite the tiredness your eyes widen and glow with unfettered love.

"Theo!"

Your hands- so much more delicate than his- tug at his robes more so to pull you up towards him, than to pull him down to you. Your lips meet his, and he delights in the feeling of your hands wrapping in his hair once he puts an arm on your back to keep you up. His other hand presses into the cot, supporting himself as your mouth moves along with his, the soft sounds filling the room.

"I missed you," You whisper, and his brow furrows a bit. You shirk a bit, but a smile still remains on your face. You know what you did.

"I was informed." His face still remains stoic. "I told you that vox was for emergencies. When you voxxed I was concerned something had happened." You wilt a bit, the mischievousness fading to some level of shame. Theo feels a bit guilty for it, and lays off. He knows his tone can be too harsh for you- he's used to commanding seasoned astartes, talking to a woman like you is still, unfamiliar.

"Don't do that again. I worry for you on this ship alone."

It repeats in his head; He'll never tell you about the dreamed up vox from a fellow Lamenter he had that woke him up in a cold sweat.

Theo can't help but find potential dangers and enemies in everyone, even if he knows his brothers would never harm you, the other serfs you rarely speak with. He still feels as if something could go wrong and he would be miles away, fighting a wave of tyranids or orks and he would be none the wiser.

If one of his brothers fell to the Red Thirst and you were close...

"I promise I won't. I just, wasn't thinking straight."

Theo uses that hand supporting you to gently rub along your back. He notices some of your coyness return.

"But, I am still bleeding," Your lips are parted slightly in the preparation to speak, and Theo always finds himself a bit distracted by how sometimes, he can see the soft glistening of the wet of your lip. "If you're hungry."

By the Throne he is, but he doesn't want to just take it. No matter how many times you've said he just can, that he doesn't need to wait for so long and then ask, but the guilt still overtakes him.

Perhaps one day he'll just take without asking, but the guilt of the idea still eats at him.

"If you will let me." He sees you nod, but the thick smell of your arousal is more than enough for him.

Removing his hand from your back he lets you fall back onto the cot, shifting to push you upward and make room on the bottom half of it for him. He is forced to untangle your body from blanket after blanket you'd wrapped around yourself, the smell getting thicker with each one removed. When he finally reaches your skin, he watches the way your body flexes as his hands brush along your thighs and reach for your underwear.

It's one fell motion to pull them off of you, his hands returning to your inner thighs now and slowly pushing them apart. They fall apart with his hands, revealing to him your soft cunt slick with blood. His head falls cheek resting on the innermost apex of your thigh, breathing in.

Before he met you, the way his hunger grew so quickly and threatened to overtake him would fill him with shame, and when he'd first begun to fall for you, the first of your cycles in his presence had nearly made him lose control.

Now he can give in to it so easily, hearing you beg for something that to the Lamenters, is a curse of their genes. Your kindness is a gift he can never return in full, but he's selfish enough to just continue taking it.

"Please, please I want it,"

Theo would normally feel guilty, but you beg him so sweetly, and he knows doing this actually helps you feel better.

Makes the stomach pain hurt less, you say. He didn't entirely believe you at first, his lack of understanding of the female form and his worry you were trying to be strong for him. But, he made a comment to another Lamenter he knows has a female personal serf, and he said she told him the same.

Theo finds it interesting, how the term personal serf has become so ubiquitous with lover. As astartes they are discouraged from such pursuits, but that doesn't mean they haven't found ways.

His hot breath fans over your core, the very apex of that heady, bloody smell. He feels his hunger rise in him- he must control it- lips pressing against your outer lips as his tongue slips between.

He tells himself he must control it, but the moment your mix of blood and honey hits his tongue he is gone; His mouth pressing harder against your cunt pulled closer by a tightened grip on your hips.

You moan, loudly, and he would be concerned of someone overhearing had the walls not been inches thick metal, and his mind long since having faded the outside world to nothing but a bygone void.

Blood smears across his mouth, what little hasn't been eaten, and the cry of you cumming on his face only spurs him on more. He tastes you as you cum, mixed with flesh blood.

Your hands tangle in his hair and try to pull him closer, as if he isn't already pressed against your cunt hard enough to feel the bones of your pelvis resist him, nose rubbing on your clit and making you squeal. His hands push on your thighs, pushing them back and out- it causes your hips to raise just slightly and makes it easier for him to eat you deeper. With his strength you have no need to try and support yourself, completely limp on his cot as he laps at your entrance before pushing his tongue in.

Your hips thrash as the sloppy sounds of his mouth against your cunt fills the small quarters, only beaten by the creaking of the cot. He briefly moves away from your entrance to lap at your clit, and the way it has you squealing makes him groan against your cunt and unconsciously grind against the bed.

"Theo, Theo please,"

You mewl so wonderfully for him, wanting more, willingly feeding him. He laps at you with fervor, feeling his hunger slowly fade away. At least his hunger for blood, his hunger for you however only increases, as he smells your wanton body. You need to be filled, your body is telling you, and Theo will more than satiate it when his hunger has disappated.

Your hips shift underneath his hands in a desperate attempt to do anything at all, only to be met with the unmovable strength of an astartes. The afterglow is blinding- Theo can hear your heartbeat in his ears along with your deep breathing. You can barely speak, but he talks anyways.

"Do you want more, love?"

He whispers against your thighs, knowing the answer. He'd be tempted to do just it, he knows you'll say yes, but something about you drabbing him closer by his hair invigorates him; he dives in for another feast and relishes in the way you scream.

[arannellahowlett]

Bruised and Bloody

Note: Who is ready for some Simon Riley angst? I fear he's vastly ooc...my apologies. Part 2 if people like it?

Warnings: angst, mentions of past abuse, Simon Riley hating himself

Summary: Y/N Riley wakes up alone in bed and wondering where her husband is, he's having a rough night and needs some reassurance.

Simon Riley was a complicated man, with a complicated past and most of it was unpleasant. During the day it was easy to keep the memories at bay, he kept himself busy, either on missions, training or with his wife Y/N. Nighttime was the worst. It was during the night that he often found himself unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling for hours on end as his memories poured, from missions gone bad, all the way back to his childhood. And they were vivid, so much so that he swore he could touch, feel and smell what was happening. There was a sadness which as the night wore on would turn into anger and sometimes fear. It was particularly bad on the nights immediately after returning from assignments. Tonight was one of those nights.

Y/N rolled over in her sleep, reaching for him to cuddle into his side, she was cold, and he was a furnace…except he wasn’t there, and his side of the bed was cold. She blinked rapidly, clearing the fog from her brain and letting her eyes focus and looking at the clock, just after 3 am.  Sure enough, he was gone, and she knew exactly where he would be. She swung her legs out of the bed, pulled on the pair of socks she had thrown on the floor before bed and grabbed Simon’s hoodie from the bottom of the bed, putting it on, it was so big that it covered her knees. Quietly, she made her way downstairs, bypassing the living room and heading directly for their basement. Before she even reached the stairs, she could hear him grunting and the rapid thumping of his fists violently attacking the punching bag he had set up ages ago.

As Y/N made it halfway down the stairs she could see he was sweating, Y/N could see it dripping off his bare back. She could tell he’d been down here for hours just by how exhausted he looked. She could also see that he hadn’t wrapped his hands first, something she’d begged him to do repeatedly. He often said that he was a broken man, a cold-hearted one, all Y/N saw though was a man who needed to be comforted and loved, and she was more than happy to provide it.

Y/N watched him for a few minutes, he had no idea that she was there, completely lost in his desire to beat the absolute hell out of the punching bag. If he was just down here working, Y/N would think it was hot, the mix of strikes, jabs and everything else he is doing, the sight of him without a shirt alone would do her in…But Simon was clearly having a bad night, the sounds of his hands hitting the leather getting louder and more rapid. Y/N had to get him to stop before he hurt himself.

Y/N sighed quietly, knowing better than to startle him. That had happened once and only once, and it had not been pretty. She stayed back by the stairs before finally speaking up, just loud enough that she knew he would hear her.

“Simon? Come back to bed. Please?” She watched Simon freeze in place, his breathing heavy and ragged, fist remaining in the air as he’d been mid-punch, Y/N could already tell that his knuckles were going to be bruised from the relentless abuse Simon had inflicted. He took a deep breath before turning his head to look at Y/N with a look that could only be a mixture of anger, exhaustion and a hint of fear. He didn’t say a word but lowered his hand.

 Y/N took his pause as permission to creep forward, moving slowly towards him before wrapping her arms around him from behind. “You okay?” She asked, her hands resting on his stomach. She felt the muscles tense under her touch, but he didn’t protest or remove them. Y/N’s warmth was comforting against his back. A light in his darkness.

He didn’t answer immediately, taking a moment to let silence pass between them before finally answering. “No,” he admitted, his voice lower and hoarser than it usually was. Y/N squeezed him gently, he was being honest tonight, that was a good sign.

“Okay. What can I do to help?” she asked softly. Normally, Simon would say there wasn’t anything she could do, that he was fine, and he was just blowing off steam.

Tonight however, Simon leaned back into Y/N’s embrace, his shoulders relaxing under her touch and he let out a sigh, his exhausted seeping into his voice. “I…don’t know. “He started. “I just need…” He trailed off, he didn’t know how to put into words what he needed, he wasn’t used to expressing when he needed something/ His tough exterior hid his feelings well but in the rare moments like tonight he would allow the cracks in his armor show, but only for Y/N.

Y/N could feel the weight of his emotions, the struggle of a man who had spent most of his life burying his trauma and pain under a normally stoic demeanor. It had always been hard for him to open to people, here right now in the early hours of the morning he was letting his guard slip. He continued to lean against Y/N, seeking comfort in her embrace and craving the connection and comfort that only she could provide him.

Without letting go of him, Y/N maneuvered herself around him so that she was facing him. Slowly she traced her fingers up to his stomach, to his chest and finally rested them on his shoulders, or as well as she could, considering how small she was compared to his 6’4 frame.

 Simon’s gaze remained fixed on the floor, his eyes distant and unfocused. In her new position, Y/N could read his face more clearly, his brows were furrowed, and his lips were in a thin line, his jaw tense as he ground his teeth together. He didn’t move away though, instead he leaned into her touch, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to reach out and hold her but held himself back. Y/N trailed one hand down his right arm, all the way until she reached his hand, gently lifting it to inspect the damage.

 She tsked as she saw the angry cracks, blood and bruising of his knuckles. Caressing them gently she looked up at him sadly. “Baby, I really wish you’d at least wrap your hands…”

Simon watched her with careful eyes, wincing slightly as her fingers ran over the sore spots. He knew he’d done this to himself, again, continuing his self-destructive pattern that they both knew so well.

“I know,” He mumbled, his voice sounding raw and gruff. “I just��needed to feel something, anything, just something I could control.” He tried to pull his hand back, not wanting her to see the true extent of the damage he’d caused to himself.

Y/N shook her head. “Please don’t hide from me Simon.”

She watched as his jaw clenched, resignation and frustration clear on his face. He knew she was the last person he should hide from, but the fear of opening and being vulnerable, even to his wife, made him want to make a quick retreat. However, he allowed her to continue inspecting his hand, rough and callused, his hands were a testament to his military career and the battles fought both on and off the battlefield.

Y/N brought his hand up to her lips, kissing his knuckles gently before letting go and reaching for his left. She sighed when she saw that he had left his wedding ring on, if his knuckles were anymore swollen, she would have been concerned that it would have to be cut off. She caressed his left hand the same way she had done the right, before kissing it and leaning up to wrap her arms around his neck, her fingers moving to play in his short brown hair.

“I wish you trusted me enough to come to me on nights like this Simon, I can help. I know it’s hard and you’re stubborn, but I love you.” She said softly to him.

Simon shook his head. “I trust you,” He whispered, a slight crack in his voice. “I just…I can’t lay this all on you Sunshine. I won’t burden you.”

Y/N smiled softly at him. “It’s not a burden Si, I’m your wife, for better or for worse.”

Simon’s eyes met hers, conflict and pain fading from his gaze. Y/N always understood and accepted him, which only made him love her more, but it didn’t stop him from feeling guilt for putting her through his often turbulent moods. His large hands moved to her hips, holding her close as if he was scared, she’d disappear. He swallowed hard, trying to find the words. “I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to lose you.” His jaw was tense and his grip on her hips tightened, seeking some kind of reassurance from her. The vulnerability in his eye betrayed the usual façade of strength that he wore as a second skin.

Y/N gripped his arms, staring directly into his shining eyes. “You aren’t going to hurt me, and you certainly aren’t going to lose me. You are stuck with me Simon Riley, in this lifetime and all others.” She promised softly.

Simon was never the sentimental type, but her words struck a chord deep within him. He pulled her closer, his large arms wrapping around her waist tightly as he buried his face in her neck taking a shaky breath and surrounding himself with her warmth like a safe haven. She could barely hear it but she froze when he heard him whisper. “I don’t deserve you.”

Her heart broke a little, it wasn’t the first time that he’d said it, but it was the first time she was letting him know that she heard it. “Simon, I want you to listen to me and listen good yeah?” I moved one hand to card through his hair. “You deserve the world, you deserve to be loved, you deserve to be happy. I don’t care what your bastard of a father told you when you were a kid.”

She watched him close his eyes. “But I’m broken love.” He murmured. “After everything I’ve done, everything I’ve seen…You should be running for the hills.”

Y/N sighed sadly, tugging on his hand and leading him to the bench along the wall. “Sit, you’re too tall for me to do this standing.”

He did as she asked, his body was too tired and aching after his latest mission and now having beat the hell out of the punching bag for hours. Once he was seated, Y/N moved to stand between his thighs, resting her hands on his shoulders. Simon looked up at her, just waiting.

“You are not broken Simon, a little rough around the edges, but not broken.” I murmured. “I will always want you Simon, please never doubt that. You have seen terrible things and gone through so much bad shit. But you’ve also spent your entire life trying to help people. You have saved thousands of lives and get no thanks for it. That takes an incredibly special kind of person.”

Y/N could see him readying himself to argue so she cut him off. “You are my everything Simon, I would be lost without you, and I will spend every day making sure that you know it.”

Simon’s features softened and he reached up to pull her hands off his shoulders so that he could hold them. He had spent so long believing that he didn’t deserve to be loved, but Y/N’s unwavering devotion was a constant in his life now, even after 5 years together it surprised him. His grip tightened, his calloused fingers intertwined with her much smaller and softer one, he pulled her close so that he could embrace her fully.

 “Damn it, I really don’t deserve you, Sunshine.” He murmured, his voice thick with emotions.

 Y/N rolled her eyes and snorted.  “I believe was just went over this, you do, and I will not accept that you don’t, you stubborn man. I can be stubborn too you know.”

Simon let out a soft chuckle. He knew her too well and her stubbornness when it came to him was unyielding. He leaned his forehead against her stomach, a deep sigh escaping him. “If only the world knew how stubborn my wife is.”

She smiled down at him, with one hand moving to his hair. “I have to be to be able to handle you.”

Simon’s eyes closed as he leaned against her, simply enjoying the closeness. He opened them again when she tugged on his hair gently. “Come on Si, let’s go to bed.”

He was exhausted and released the grip he had around her waist, and with a tired smile he nodded, letting her pull him up before he took her hand and led her up the basement stairs before taking the next set of stairs to the bedroom. The walk was slow and silent, Simon’s body was weary, his usual confident stride replaced with a sluggish pace. Once in the bedroom he lowered himself slowly onto the bed, groaning as he did.

Y/N watched carefully, his normally sharp and alert gaze was weighed down by physical and mental fatigue. He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with movement. His gaze turned to hers and he patted the spot beside him. “Come on love,”

Y/N slid under the covers with him, immediately settling into his arms, head on his chest, his wrapped around her back. She started drawing small patterns on his chest with her finger. “Si?”

He turned his head to look at her in the darkness, just barely making out the shape of her. “Yes love?” he asked with a squeeze of his arm.

“I love you.”

She felt Simon immediately relax. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he leaned just enough to press a gentle kiss onto her lips. “I love you too,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “More than you could ever imagine.”

[silverskye13]

It's been awhile since Joel has been on a desolate server. That's by design. He goes a little mad, you know. Well, he goes a little mad anyway, but there's something about that old scavenger Lonely that creeps him out, alright? It circles him like a buzzard, always in the corner of his eye. Drives him places. Gotta keep moving or it'll bite you. Gotta keep moving.

He gets back to building. It's quiet. It reminds him of the end of the world.

Joel shakes his head. He scowls at his shaking hands. He looks around. He can see the water, a river full of life running to a distant sea. There's no cloud of black and red on the horizon, there's not even a bloomin Jimmy or Fwhip around.

"Jimmy was here," Lonely croaks like a rook on a tombstone. "Recently."

"Shut up." Joel says to himself, because Lonely isn't here, isn't real, it's never real. All in his head, isn't it? An empire of him.

Gotta keep building. That's what he's good at, building. The compulsion of hand and hue and height. He builds a shop. No one stops him. He leaves a note for its neighbor because she's not there. No one is here. Just himself.

"It is so much like the End," Lonely tells him, and it's voice is the melody of a vacant goddess. "Do you think they'll recognize you when they come back?"

"Shut up."

"You're the only one talking, Joel." Lonely laughs like dying fish on a bone-dry seabed. "Obsessed with me, are you?"

Joel gets back to building. Building was always easy, all compulsion and thoughtless movement. Making life with his hands. Sculpting.

"I'm not a sculptor here," he whispers to himself as his hands reach for clay. It yields to his touch, grabs him back with greedy hands like the mud that devoured the sea goddess's castle.

"You always made me such beautiful things," Lonely croons, and he can feel it like a crown on his head, like a cloak on his shoulders. "I didn't remember a single one of them, did I?"

Joel is standing in front of a statue he's sculpted. His hands are heavy, and he's been crying. He looks up at a goddess, whose vacant stare can't see him, but it is the harmless vacant of creation, and not the terrible vacant of a love lost forever.

"I've missed you Joel," Lonely whispers, with the voice of his goddess, in a world that ended far away. "Why did you stop visiting me? You didn't abandon me, did you, love?"

Joel closes his eyes, and grits his teeth. "I can't forget you."

Joel flies away, like he could outrun that circling scavenger. Though still he sees it out of the corner of his eye.

He needs to find something to build.

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I am cold. I feel something wet falling on my face. It isn't water, I just know it isn't. It's thicker.

I can't see anything. I don't know where I am.

The place feels old and scary. I'm trapped there.

I feel a draft.

My hands are restrained. I can't move.

Suddenly, a light starts appearing from somewhere.

I can tell it's red. It feels bad. It feels like whatever is coming will be the end of me.

Before the monster can grab me, I wake up in a cold sweat. This nightmare keeps recurring. Every time, the monster gets closer.

I wonder what will happen when it finally reaches me...

[pedrospatch]

call it what it is

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: A disagreement over patrol duty leads to declarations that have been long overdue.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. established relationship. HEFTY AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and joel is 56). ellie and joel are fine bc i said so and they deserve nothing less. reader handles a rifle, joel’s a little too overprotective and almost seems controlling, but i promise he is not. well, maybe just a smidge. arguing, admission of feelings, joel miller says i love you (yes this is ooc, no i do not care bc i need this old man to tell me he loves me). angst, fluff. quite a bit of side character interaction before we get to joel and reader in the second half. the only physical description of reader is that she is shorter than joel. fair warning, i am quite rusty.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: hi hello. i have not shared a wip in over 2 months. i was going back and forth on whether or not i wanted to share a fic with so much going on but decided i wanted to get back to doing what i enjoy. that and ofc that new footage was a boost of inspo. i am sending so, so much love to anyone who happens to see this author note, whether you read this fic or just happen to see this note in passing whilst scrolling. i know things have been tough, but i am here with you. <3

Joel wakes with a gentle start. Yawning, he rolls over from his side onto his back, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as warm, golden sunlight filters into the bedroom through the sheer, white linen curtains drawn over the window. He stares up at the ceiling, his breathing slow, steady, and even. He’s still getting used to it, it seems. Waking this calmly, with a tranquil peace he had been so certain he would never in his life feel again. He knew it couldn’t be a mere coincidence the nightmares had all but stopped tormenting him in his sleep when the two of you stopped doing that awkward little tap dance around one another and began sharing a bed, a home, a life.

No more bolting upright in sheer panic in the middle of the night, heart pounding and drenched head to toe in a cold sweat. No more believing he’s failing in his sleep. No more waking up feeling like he’s lost something.

Even his dreams about Sarah had become so, so much more pleasant. Images of her in that field on that night were replaced by different memories, like watching her teammates dogpile her after she’d scored the winning goal in their soccer tournament, or the big, triumphant grin she’d flashed him over her chocolate milkshake as the pair sat in their usual corner booth at their favorite fifties-themed diner in Austin—much to Joel’s surprise, Sarah had politely declined her teammates’ invitation for pizza once the match ended, choosing to celebrate her victory with him. Just the two of them.

“Y’sure you don’t wanna go with your friends, kiddo?” he’d asked, raising an eyebrow. He had been certain she was approaching the age where she would start spending less and less time with her old man. “I wouldn’t mind, y’know.”

“Positive,” she had reassured him with a smile, looping her arm through his and leading him off the pitch. “I’d much rather be with you, dad.”

Rather than smelling metallic in his slumber, he smells the grass that stained her white and blue striped jersey. Her cheeks are smeared with dirt, not with crimson.

Stifling another loud yawn, Joel stretches his arm out over towards your side of the bed, his calloused fingers seeking the warmth and softness of your naked body—instead, all they find are empty sheets, cold and long abandoned. He turns his head, and as suspected, you are not laying there beside him. That’s hardly out of the ordinary. Out of the two of you, you were the early riser, up before the neighbors’ rooster even had the chance to sound the alarm. Joel knows how much you treasure your quiet mornings lounging on the porch swing he’d built for you as you watched the sunrise with a hot cup of coffee in hand. He often made a genuine effort to get up and join you, but lately, his patrol rotations had been all over the place thanks to a shortage of patrolmen. He found himself sleeping in whenever he had the chance, seeing as he never knew when he might have to work a damn double. Or maybe it was just his age catching up with him.

He checks the time and then rolls out of bed, groaning when his sore knees and his aching lower back protest his movement.

After taking a quick shower using whatever hot water the kid had left for him after her own shower—much to his annoyance, it was not very much—Joel brushes his teeth and gets dressed for the day before pulling on his boots and heading downstairs into the kitchen where he finds the culprit responsible for the cold downpour he’d been forced to wash himself under. Ellie’s sitting at the table, absentmindedly stirring her oatmeal around her bowl with her spoon as she flips through one of her comic books. Just as he’s about to greet her, he spots the clean, empty coffee pot on the kitchen counter and frowns. You hadn’t even made coffee yet?

Now, that—that is out of the ordinary.

“Where is she?” he asks.

“Well, good morning to you too, old man. Oh, I slept great, thanks for asking,” Ellie quips without looking up at him as she flips the page. She mumbles something under her breath he doesn’t quite catch, something like, and you get on my ass about my manners?

Rolling his eyes, Joel snorts in response and pads over to the coffee maker on the counter. He spoons in some of the grounds he’d traded for earlier that week into the reusable filter, pours in water from the tap, and turns it on to brew. He grabs two ceramic mugs from the wire dish rack beside the sink and sets them down on the counter. “She out back?” he questions, yanking the refrigerator door open—he tries to remember the little things, like how you enjoyed your coffee with a bit of milk as well as a dash of cinnamon, if you had the rations, or something to trade for the precious spice. He always made sure that you did.

“Nope.” Ellie shovels a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth and adds thickly, “She went to get some eggs.”

Joel shoots her a look of disgust over his shoulder. “Jesus, Ellie! How many times do I gotta tell you? Don’t talk with your mouth full. It’s bad manners,” he scolds her, shaking his head. He turns his attention back to the refrigerator. As he reaches for the glass bottle of milk, he pauses and his eyebrows pull together in confusion when he sees the wicker basket on the top shelf. “Wait a minute.” He feels her stiffen in her chair. “Why the hell would she go get eggs when we’ve got a full basket of ‘em right here in the fridge?”

She clears her throat. “Oh, uh, my bad. I got confused. Think she said she was gonna go get more honey? Uh, I used the last of it to make my breakfast this morning and she, uh—she wanted some for her toast. You know, ‘cause she really likes putting honey on her toast,” she rambles before piling more oatmeal into her mouth.

Closing the refrigerator door, he turns to her, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as uneasiness settles deep in the pit of his stomach. “Ellie?”

There’s a momentary pause. “...yeah?”

This time, Joel doesn’t bother to chastise the teenager for talking with her mouth full. “Where is she?”

Ellie nervously swallows her food and holds up both of her hands. “Hey, I already fucking told you, man.”

“Look, I know you like the back of my own hand, kiddo. And I know damn good and well when you’re lying to me.” Joel crosses his arms over his chest. “Now tell me the truth. What do you know that I don’t?”

Groaning, Ellie sits back in her chair. “Ugh. She made me swear not to tell you! She’ll fucking strangle me if I do—”

“Yeah, well, not if I fuckin’ strangle you first myself,” he threatens her. “M’Serious, Ellie. Tell me what’s going on. Right now.”

“Alright, alright! Jesus,” she huffs. “She’s with Tommy. He’s been taking her out of town to do target practice in the mornings, just the two of them. She usually gets back to the house before you get up,” she admits.

Joel’s arms fall back to his sides, his shoulders tense. “And how long has this been goin’ on?” he asks, rigidly. There’s a sudden tightness inside his chest, a feeling he hasn’t felt it in a while, but is still all too familiar to him.

After Tommy spread the word around town that more people were needed for patrol duties, you’d expressed an interest in the role, but Joel had been all too quick to shut you down, telling you he didn’t want you stepping foot outside the community’s gates.

“No,” he’d said. “Not happenin’. S’too dangerous.”

“But Joel—”

“I said,” he lowered his voice. “No.”

He hadn’t offered you an explanation as to why he was against it, refused to give you one good, solid reason as to why it was acceptable for him to risk his own life to protect Jackson, but it wasn’t acceptable for you to do the same.

Joel hadn’t known how to tell you the truth. How he needed you far, far more than you needed him, how the mere thought of losing you, the best fucking thing that could have possibly happened to him since the world ended, made him feel like his heart was going to stop.

A few weeks had passed since then, and thankfully, you never brought it up to him again. You had lost interest in patrol duty. Or so he’d thought.

“How long has this been going on?” he repeats after a minute.

“C’mon, man! Haven’t I already snitched enough?”

“Ellie,” Joel bites out her name. “Tell me. How long?”

She sighs in defeat. “Two weeks? Maybe three?” When she notices the muscle in his jaw tick, she grimaces. “You do realize why she didn’t fucking tell you, right?”

“Don’t,” he warns her, sharply.

“I’m just saying,” Ellie mutters, peering down into her bowl.

Without another word, Joel angrily storms past her and straight out the front door, snatching up his rifle on the way. He heads straight for the stables, trying to ignore the anxiety flaring inside of his chest.

Focus.

Now, breathe in. And breathe out.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe...

You exhale as you slowly squeeze the trigger.

Y’squeeze it like you love it, you had been told by your reluctant instructor.

The round fires off into the distance and you swiftly grab the bolt handle, bringing it up, back, forward, and then down again. You pull the trigger once more, then repeat and continue firing one shot after the other for a total of five rounds.

The rifle’s recoil nearly sends you flying backwards, but a strong hand on your back keeps you nice and steady. That same hand then moves to your shoulder and gives you three firm taps.

“Alright, alright! Christ,” Tommy laughs. He withdraws his arm from around you and shakes his head. “Fuckin’ calm down, Annie Oakley.”

Picking up his binoculars, he rises to his feet and looks through the lens at the makeshift targets that he’d set up for you, three empty soup cans lined up in a row on top of a wooden fence about twenty-five yards away—your longest shooting distance to date.

“Well?” You don’t even bother masking your impatience as you lower the rifle, carefully propping the weapon up against the tree stump you’re perched behind. Rubbing your sore shoulder, you hope the kickback won’t leave a bruise. You wouldn’t know how to explain that to Joel. “How did I do?”

His response comes in the form of a long, low whistle.

There is no telling if that had been good whistle, or if it had been a bad one. You groan. Now was not the time for him to dick around. “Please tell me I got at least one of them?”

“You got ‘em all, actually.” Tommy replies, lowering the binoculars and peering down at you. There’s a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “Good job, kid.”

Kid? Not exactly a nickname one wants to be called by the brother of the much, much older man that they are romantically involved with. It’d taken Tommy months to accept your relationship with Joel, especially when you moved your things out of your unit and into his over the summer. Part of you wonders if him referring to you as a kid is simply his own subtle way of telling you—no, of reminding you, that he’s still not comfortable with it.

And perhaps he never would be.

After all, you had still been a teenager when you first arrived to Jackson a few years ago, stumbling upon the town just a few months shy of the twentieth birthday you weren’t sure you would survive long enough to see.

You were indeed a kid when you’d met Tommy Miller.

Were.

Scowling up at him, you snap, “I told you to stop calling me that. I’m not nineteen anymore, Tommy.”

Having read your mind, he gives you a small smile and acknowledges, “Yeah, you’re right. You definitely ain’t a kid anymore.” He offers you his hand and hoists you up to your feet. Before dropping your hand, he gives it an apologetic squeeze.

You relax a little and smile back at him. “Did I really get all three?”

Tommy nods. “You sure did. You’re a damn good shot. I gotta be honest with you—I didn’t expect you to be this fuckin’ good,” he admits sheepishly.

Chuckling, you scoff, “Thanks. I think.”

“It’s a compliment, sugar.” He winks and flashes you a lopsided grin. “In fact, I’d say my work here is done.”

“Great! So when are you putting me on the roster?”

His grin instantly vanishes. “Uh, listen. About that....”

He trails off, and your heart sinks a little.

Tommy wouldn’t back out of this now—would he?

“Oh, no. Don’t you dare go back on your word, Miller,” you say, lightly poking him in the chest. “We had a deal. You said if I did well enough, you’d think about it.”

He nods in agreement. “Exactly. Said I’d think about it. And I think that puttin’ you on the roster for patrol ain’t a good idea.”

Your mouth falls open. If he never had any intention of holding up his end of the bargain, then what had been the point of teaching you how to shoot?

You didn’t understand.

“You just said it yourself, I’m a great shot! I’m a good on horseback, too. I’m stealthy. I’m diligent. What more do you fucking need from me, Tommy?”

Tommy’s chest heaves with a heavy sigh. “Joel would fuckin’ murder me with his bare hands if I even thought about puttin’ you on patrol duty. Hell, he’d murder me just knowin’ we’re out here and I’m teachin’ you how to shoot. It’s a damn fuckin’ miracle he still hasn’t caught onto this, y’know.”

Shocked, your eyebrows shoot to your hairline. “This is about Joel? Are you serious?”

“‘Course it is.” He pauses. “Listen, now I know the three of us had our—differences—when he first told me ‘bout you two. Still takin’ me a bit of gettin’ used to, but I can see he’s real serious about you. I know my brother, and I know he won’t risk losin’ what’s most important to him. Ain’t no way in hell. He doesn’t want you out here and you know that as well as I do.” Tommy shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shrugging as he shuffles his weight from one cowboy boot to the other. “Unless he’s alright with it, I ain’t gonna put you on the roster.”

For a moment, you’re at a complete loss for words.

Upon seeing the crestfallen expression on your face, he makes a suggestion. “You can try talkin’ to him ‘bout it again if it means that much to you. Ask him—”

“Ask?” You want to laugh. You almost do. “I’m an adult, Tommy. I don’t need his permission to do this. Or to do anything for that matter. Joel doesn’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”

Tommy smiles wryly. “Well then, if that’s the case, why are we sneakin’ around and doin’ this behind his back?”

Your shoulders slump in defeat.

Because the ramifications could be disastrous.

Joel had made his stance on the matter abundantly clear, and yet here you were, deliberately disobeying him.

“Stumped you real good, didn’t I?”

Before you can even start to think about how you can possibly respond to that, you hear the sound of hooves in the dirt behind you, followed by whinny of a horse.

Tommy’s face pales as he glances over your shoulder.

“Shit.”

There’s no need for you to ask. His grimace says it all.

Somehow, you will yourself to turn around just as Joel’s steed comes to a halt beside the mare you and Tommy had ridden out on together. He jumps out of the saddle, grunting at the forceful impact on his knees when his feet hit the ground. His rifle hangs from a worn, brown leather strap slung across his back.

He approaches the two of you looking absolutely livid, and your throat goes dry.

“The hell is goin’ on here?” He breezes right past you, roughly shoving his brother with both hands. “Why the fuck would you bring her out here, Tommy? What the fuck is the matter with you?”

“Joel, c’mon. Take it easy—”

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me to take it easy!”

“Joel!” You reach for his arm. “Wait, it’s not his fault!”

Joel shoves him again, then takes him by the collar of his shirt and pins him against the ponderosa pine tree behind him. “You’ve been bringin’ her outside the gates behind my fuckin’ back for weeks, asshole?”

The panic begins to set in—he’s taking his anger out on the wrong person, and deep down, he knows this too.

“Joel! Stop! Let him go!” Grabbing fistfuls of his jacket, you try pulling him off of the younger man. “Stop it! It’s not his fault! I asked Tommy to bring me out here!”

He whirls around, his nostrils flared, jaw clenched.

You’ve seen this side of him a handful of times before.

But his anger has never been directed at you.

“What?”

Immediately, you let go of him and take a step back. “I asked Tommy to bring me out here and teach me how to shoot so that I can start working patrol,” you explain, hoping, praying, he doesn’t catch the slight tremble in your voice. “This was all my idea, okay? If you’re going to be mad at someone, then be mad at me. Not at him.”

“So you did this after I fuckin’ told you I didn’t want you out here?” Joel seethes. His neck becomes flushed, his tan skin now a deep shade of red.

“Joel—”

He cuts you off. “I had to find out from Ellie? You tried to get her to fuckin’ lie to me? After all the work it took for me and her to—” Stopping mid sentence, he places his hands on his hips and shakes his head.

“Joel. Please.” Behind the anger in his dark brown eyes, you detect something else. A mingle of hurt, concern—fear?

Tommy awkwardly clears his throat. “Well I’m, uh—I’m gonna head back to town,” he says, touching a hand to the back of his neck. “I’ll let the two of you work things out in private.” As he passes Joel, he lightly claps him on the shoulder. “Girl’s a sharp shooter, big brother. I’d reckon she’s almost better than you.”

His effort to lighten the mood fails. Miserably.

Offering you a subtle nod of encouragement, Tommy hops into the saddle of his mare and takes off towards the commune.

Silence falls over the both of you. It feels suffocating.

Unfamiliar.

Finally, you speak. “Joel, please just hear me out—”

“What the hell were you thinkin’? Or were you just not thinkin’ at all?”

“I was thinking I want to pull my weight in Jackson.”

“You already have a fuckin’ job,” Joel reminds you.

“Making sandwiches and serving whiskey at The Tipsy Bison?” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I am capable of more than that, Joel. So much more. Don’t you believe I’m capable of doing more?”

“I don’t want you out here,” he grits through his teeth. “Capable or not, I don’t want you outside Jackson’s walls. I don’t want you on patrol and that’s fuckin’ final. You understand me?” Now it’s him who falters, and you wonder if you’re imagining things, or if that’s really a tear you see sliding down the side of his face, disappearing into the salt and pepper scruff of his beard.

“That’s not your decision to make, Joel. It’s mine.”

“M’responsible for you. It’s my job to look after you—to protect you.”

Something about the way he is looking at you, it feels like a punch to the gut, and it’s at that precise moment when you begin to realize that he’s not angry. He’s afraid.

“Joel, I know that all you want to do is protect me,” you sigh, letting your arms fall down to your sides. “I know you do. But you’re doing me no favors by trying to keep me sheltered. By treating me like I’m defenseless. Don’t forget, I’m a survivor too.”

“You already know how fuckin’ dangerous it is out here. Clickers, raiders—”

“I can handle it,” you insist, stubbornly.

“You’d be puttin’ yourself right in harm’s way!”

You shoot back, “You mean, the way you and so many other people put yourselves in harm’s way every single day for the sake of keeping Jackson safe?”

A frustrated growl rumbles through his chest. “Christ, why are you bein’ so fuckin’ foolish? You’re just askin’ to get yourself killed!”

“I can take care of myself!” You realize your hands are shaking and curl them into tight fists at your sides in an effort to hide it. “Just accept it, Joel! Accept that I can take care of myself, alright?”

That is all it takes to tip Joel over the edge he’s been teetering on. “Then what do you fuckin’ need me for?” he shouts, his voice thundering over the quiet plains of Wyoming. “If you can take care of yourself, what’s the point in us bein’ together? Why are you with me?”

“Because I love you!”

As soon as the confession comes tumbling out of your mouth, you take a step back, your wide eyes meeting his own. Until now, neither of you have ever called this what it is, been bold enough to say it’s love.

Loving after so much grief, so much loss, is daunting. It’s something you thought you would never be capable of doing again, not in this lifetime. Not in this world. It’s happened, though.

You love Joel Miller.

And he loves you.

He’s never told you he does, but he’s shown you.

From the way remembers how you take your coffee in the mornings, to the way he laces his fingers with your own, holding your hand when he’s buried inside of you, whispering sweet nothings into your collarbone every single night.

“You—you what?” Joel’s whisper is hardly audible.

You inch your way closer to him, your voice soft. “I love you,” you declare once more. “I’m not with you because of what you can do for me. I’m not with you because you can take care of me.” Closer. “I’m with you because I love you—because I’m in love with you, Joel.” Closer, until your chest brushes against his, and he can smell the subtle scent of your homemade, rosewater soap. “The only thing I need, and have ever needed from you, is your love in return.”

His throat bobs. Before you can utter another word, he lifts his hands and gently takes your face, cradling it in between his large palms, gently. His eyes search yours, immediately finding the sincerity behind your words. Leaning down, he brushes the tip of nose against your own as one of his hands travels down, his long fingers curling around the nape of your neck. His thumb lightly strokes the column of your throat.

“I love you,” Joel says hoarsely. Three words he hadn’t said to anyone in over two decades—it feels foreign to him, they ring strange in his own ears. He tries it again, clearer this time, and with a little more confidence. After all, he’s only saying what he has known from the very start. “I love you.” His other hand moves to your hip, pulling you even closer to him. “M’gonna love you for the rest of my life, baby.”

He leans in further and presses his lips to yours lightly, at first, but he wastes no time in sweeping his tongue across your bottom lip, silently asking for more.

Your mouth parts for him, and he backs you against the ponderosa, kissing you deeply, greedily, like he’s a man starved.

You whimper into him, your hands sliding up his broad chest and past his shoulders until they’re tangled in his soft, graying curls. He breathes you in, like you are the oxygen he needs to stay alive.

It isn’t until you both hear the sound of rustling behind a nearby shrub that you’re forced to pull apart. “Don’t move,” Joel instructs in a hushed voice. He keeps you pinned against the tree, his hand abandoning your hip. He glances around, slowly reaching behind his back for his rifle. His tense shoulders relax when the both of you see a pair of rabbits dart out from one dried bush and straight into another. Exhaling an amused huff, Joel shifts his attention back to you and rests his forehead against yours.

Smiling, you reach up and softly graze his beard with your fingertips. “Guess it’s about time we called this what it is, huh?”

“Guess you’re right, darlin’.” He lifts his chin, brushing a kiss onto your forehead. “M’sorry for raisin’ my voice to you. For talkin’ to you the way I did. S’just, the thought of somethin’ happenin’ to you out here scares shit out of me.” Taking a step back, he pulls the strap of his rifle from around his shoulder. He chews the inside of his cheek and silently stares at the gun in his hands. After a minute, he meets your curious gaze. “Do you really wanna do this, sweet girl?”

You nod. “Yeah. I really do.”

Joel sighs. “Can I put a condition it?”

“Depends on what that condition is.”

“I’m your patrol partner. Every shift. Every rotation.”

You roll your eyes. “Joel.”

“At least for the first few weeks,” he bargains. “Last thing I need is for you to be paired up with some fuckin’ idiot who doesn’t know what the hell they’re doin’.”

Knowing that would be the only way he’d have some peace of mind, you decide to agree. “Fine. We’re patrol partners.”

“Alright then.” Joel nods and hands you the rifle. He flashes you a small grin. “Show me what you got, baby.”

divider credit to @/saradika 💛

for fic notifications please follow @joelsgreysupdates!

[wandaslittlebird]

Pendulum

Wanda x Reader, WandaNat x Reader

After a session with Wanda the prior evening, you wake up alone in your bed and find you’re a bit more reliant on her than you’d like to be.

CW: Sub drop, (kinda) panic attack, mood swings, guilt, Mommy Kink, mentions of spanking, established WandaNat (no cheating), pills (Tylenol and Xanax), Wanda generally being a protective and worried mama

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: I may know hardly anything about dom drop, but I’m ✨well versed✨ in sub drop. I honestly think this one is adorable and I hope you all enjoy.

A/N: I wasn’t doing this consciously, but reading this back I realize I kinda did a reverse YAIL, so, if you haven’t already, go check out that series by @wandasaura

Fic based on this request

You woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air before your head even left the pillow. It was hard to find anything to ground you in your dark bedroom, but with the help of your stuffed bear, Francis, and some breathing exercises you’d been working on in therapy, you were able to calm down at least enough to breathe. Still, you found yourself dizzy, nauseous, in pain, and, perhaps most excruciatingly, alone.

Wanda. Where was Wanda? Where was your mommy? You needed mommy.

“Mommy?” You cried quietly into the empty room. But she wasn’t there. Of course she wasn’t there. She was at home, tucked peacefully into bed with Natasha, her wife. And you were here, in your cold, empty apartment, all alone.

You turned to look at the clock on your bedside table. 1:30 am. It was far too late to call her. She had to get up for work in a couple hours. You had to get up for class in a couple hours.

But god, you needed her. You needed just to hear her voice. Everything felt so empty without her here. Your brain felt like it was underwater. You couldn’t think. It felt like your mind was strapped to a pendulum, swinging back and forth between extremes. It’s like half of your mind was begging for Wanda while the other half scolded you for your over-reliance. You wanted her, but you didn’t want to want her. It was hyper-dependence clashing with hyper-independence in an internal battle that left you dazed and confused.

Just call her, you thought. She told you to call her if this ever happened.

You’d been her submissive for months, and, though you’d never actually experienced sub drop with her, the two of you had discussed it extensively. “You can call me at any time,” she’d said. “Even if it's been days. I’m here for you in any way you need me.”

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand, pulling up her contact and hovering over the call button. But before you could press it, the pendulum swung back. You hurled the phone into your beanbag on the other side of the room.

What are you thinking? You can’t call her. She’s not your fucking girlfriend. You’re so reliant on her and she doesn’t even care about you. Leave her alone. This is your mess. Handle it.

You sighed, dragging your aching body off of your mattress. Everything hurt. The wounds she’d so loving inflicted the night before ached even more than they had when they were fresh. You wanted, needed, to feel her soft hands massaging soothing balm into your skin like they had only hours prior. But no.

Wanda. Wasn’t. Here.

It was just you and you alone. You needed to take care of this. You needed to pull yourself together and handle this on your own. You felt like you might be sick. The swinging of this pendulum was nauseating. You dragged yourself to the bathroom, pulling two Tylenol and a Xanax from the medicine cabinet. You sat on the toilet, tucking your head between your knees.

You didn’t understand what was happening. Or rather, you didn’t understand why it was happening. Wanda had done everything perfectly, just like she always did. She’d insisted you stay with her until you were out of subspace and your mind was clear again. She’d given you all the cuddles and love and reassurance you could possibly want. She’d even rubbed that soothing lotion on your sore ass despite the fit you’d pitched about it. This shouldn’t be happening. She’d done everything she was supposed to do. You were the problem.

You moved from the bathroom to your living room, pacing anxious circles until you worried the neighbors would complain. Then you decided on a walk.

A little walk to clear your head. That should help. No need to bother Wanda. You could take care of this by yourself.

—————

A little over two blocks proved you could not, in fact, take care of this by yourself. You found yourself collapsed on a bench outside your favorite coffee shop, her contact pulled up on your phone, sobbing as your thumb hovered over the call button.

You clicked it, anxiously awaiting an answer through the dial tone. Every second without an answer was a battle not to hit the red button, and smash your phone on the ground so you wouldn’t be tempted to try this again.

“Hello?” You heard, not Wanda, but Natasha’s sleep addled voice.

You silently cursed, debating hanging up the phone and forgetting the whole endeavor. You had very limited experience in dealing with Natasha. Where Wanda was warm and inviting, Natasha was cold and intimidating. Wanda had told you once that Natasha had a soft spot for you, but you remained unconvinced any of Natasha’s spots were “soft”.

Wanda had explained to you that Natasha’s had submissives of her own, but she tended to prefer brats, submissives who needed a harsher hand. “It’s not that she doesn’t like you,” Wanda had explained, “she’s just not used to sweet little girls like you.”

Still, the woman terrified you. And she definitely was NOT the one you wanted to be speaking to right now. But you took a deep breath, and answered her. “H-hello, Miss Natasha. C-can I speak to Wanda?” You stammered. You couldn’t keep the tears and desperation out of your voice when you added a “…please.”

“Y-yeah, sure honey. Just a second let me get her up,” she responded tiredly.

Your heart shattered at the thought of Natasha rousing a peaceful Wanda from her sleep just because you couldn’t get yourself together. But all such thoughts faded when you heard her voice through the phone. “Angel? Is that you? Is everything okay? Are you hurt? What’s going on?”

“Mommy…” you said tearfully. “I’m okay. I promise I’m okay, I just… I don’t know what’s happening. I mean I’m dropping, I know, but… I don’t know. I just needed so badly to hear you and talk to you. I’m sorry for waking you up. I’m so sorry. I know you said….” You were rambling breathlessly, but Wanda soon cut you off.

“Breathe for me, little love,” she instructed softly. “Three deep breaths. In and out. Can you do that for me, angel?”

You nodded despite knowing she couldn’t see you over the phone. You took three audible breaths, calming yourself down.

“Good girl,” she praised. “Now, can you tell me what’s happening?”

“I… I… Sub drop, I think,” you explained. “But like, really bad.”

“Aww,” she cooed. “I’m so sorry, my little love. Can you explain to me what you're feeling? Are you in pain? Do you need company?”

“I just… I don’t know why this is happening to me,” you cried. “Everything hurts so bad. My head feels like it’s spinning. And… And my body is so sore. It’s never happened like this with you before. You did everything so perfectly. I just don’t understand why I’m being like this.”

“Sub drop can happen no matter what, honey. And I’m so sorry it’s happening to you, sweetheart. Do you need to come back over?” She asked.

You pondered her question, the pendulum inside of you swinging violently. You felt like you were being torn in half between admitting you needed her help, and feeling defeated and weak that you couldn’t handle it on your own. But eventually you remembered it didn’t really matter. You made your choice when you took the Xanax. You weren’t going anywhere now. “I-I took some medicine. I can’t drive. I’m sorry,” you admitted.

“What medicine?” She asked, panicked. “Did you take too much? Are you okay?”

“It was just a Xanax. Just one. Just like I take for school sometimes,” you reassured.

You heard her breathe a sigh of relief on the other end of the line. “Okay, sweetheart. I’m sorry I panicked. You know I just worry sometimes. I tell you what, Nat and I are going to get you an Uber, and then you can spend the rest of the night here, okay?”

“Wanda, you don’t have to-“ You didn’t use her real name very often given the exclusively sexual nature of your relationship, but you needed her to know she wasn’t responsible for being your dominant right now. She was Wanda, and you were you: two grown adults. She didn’t have any obligation to take care of you right now, in the middle of the night on a Wednesday.

“But I want to, darling,” she interrupted. “Is that okay?”

“Y-yeah, but I’m not at the house right now.”

You heard her breath catch. “Where are you, honey? You promise me you’re safe?”

“I-I’m just at the coffee shop,” you explained. “I wanted to take a walk, b-but I didn’t make it very far.”

Wanda sighed. She’d have to have a little talk with you about walking all by yourself in the middle of the night. But not right now. Right now she just needed you in her arms as quickly as she could have you. “Alright, love. You’ve got a car on its way. Just stay on the phone with me until it gets there, okay?”

“O-okay.”

—————

The car was there within five minutes of Wanda’s order. Most of that time was just filled with tears and mumbled apologies on your end, and reassurance and encouragement on hers.

She waited anxiously by the front door for you to arrive, peeking out of the blinds with every set of headlights that passed by. She clutched her robe tight against her chest. If you were there, you would’ve teased her about her anxious habit. You always said she was “practically clutching her pearls.”

When you finally pulled into the driveway, she was standing in the front door frame before you could even get out of the car.

“Mommy!” You ran up to her, nearly tripping on the front porch steps on your way in. You were even more hysterical now that you were seeing her in person. Something about the sight of her made you fall apart. You felt safe now. You were going to fall, and she was going to catch you, and everything was going to be okay.

“Careful, love,” she chided, taking you into her arms. “Mommy’s got you. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m gonna take care of you and I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you.”

It sounded more like she was reassuring herself than anything, but her words still washed over you like a wave of relief. “I missed you, mommy.”

“I know you did, angel,” she said, kissing you on the temple. “Mommy missed you, too.”

She wrapped her arms just under your ass, still sore and super sensitive from your activities earlier that night. She picked you up, wrapping your legs around your waist. You squeaked in a mixture of surprise and pain.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know you’re sore. I’ll be gentle,” she cooed. “Let’s get you to bed. Tasha will be waiting for us.”

You just cried, burying your face into Wanda’s neck as she carried you up the stairs. You couldn’t talk anymore. You were so completely exhausted, mentally and physically. But it was okay. You had your mommy and everything was going to be okay. The bedroom door was already open, and, as Wanda had expected, Natasha was sat up against the headboard.

“Is that a little angel I see there?” You heard Natasha ask. Wanda sat you on her lap at the end of the bed, bending down to take off your shoes.

You peaked your eyes out from Wanda’s neck before perching your chin on her shoulder. “Hi Miss Natasha,” you sniffled. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“That’s alright, little angel,” she assured, sliding closer to you and Wanda on the bed. She looked so much kinder than usual, soft sleepy eyes smiling at you through your tears. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

You nodded, still teary eyed and snotty on Wanda’s lap while she unlaced your shoes.

Natasha cupped your cheek, wiping away stray tears. “It must’ve been so scary to start dropping without your mommy there, huh?” Her touch was unexpectedly gentle, as were her words. Maybe Wanda was right, maybe she really did have a soft spot for you.

You nodded, trying to speak but only managing to whimper a “mhm.” You blushed a little with embarrassment. Wanda must’ve told her all about your situation. You wondered momentarily if she thought your behavior was overblown or ridiculous, but if she did, her gentle face showed no indication.

“But now you’ve got your mommy and everything’s gonna be okay, right?”

You nodded again. “I-I hope you don’t mind if I steal your wife for a little bit for-for some extra snuggles.”

“Not at all little angel.” Natasha smiled softly. She could see your anxious embarrassment, and decided, despite her inexperience with soft subs, she’d make an attempt to soothe you. She knew she wasn't expected to, but she found herself desperate to make you feel better, even if it was only a little bit. “Your mommy could hardly stop bragging about you tonight, you know?”

“Re-really?” You asked. Natasha could see the tiniest little twinkle in your teary eyes.

“Really,” she confirmed. “She told me she was so proud of her sweet girl for calling her, because that must’ve been so scary for her, to call in the middle of the night. She knows you don’t like to wake people up, and asking for help when you need it is so so hard. And I said ‘wow, it sounds like you have the bravest little angel in the whole world. I think she deserves some extra special snuggles from mommy tonight, for being so brave.’”

“Y-you really think so?” you asked bashfully, hiding back in Wanda’s neck.

“I really do,” she confirmed. “And you know your mommy keeps her phone on silent in the nighttime. But she cares about you so much she has a special setting so it rings just for you.”

You smiled. Your heart fluttered, not only at the idea Wanda had her phone on for you, but also at the thought that Natasha must’ve known it was you before she answered. “I-I thought you might be mad at me,” you confessed. “Cause you and-and mommy were probably all snuggled up in bed and I came in and messed it all up!”

Natasha stroked your cheek as she shook her head. “No angel. Never. You could never mess up one of our snuggles by asking to be a part of it. We’re both so proud of you, for calling and getting help.”

“P-promise?” You asked.

Natasha held out her pinky, which you wrapped with your own. “Promise.” She confirmed.

Wanda finally got your shoes off and placed them on the floor next to the bed. “Okay little love,” she announced, easing your pajama pants down around your knees. “I’m gonna get some of the nice lotion again, okay?” She’d already put a little on earlier, but she figured it would probably do quite a bit to soothe your current pains, both physically and emotionally.

You wrapped yourself around her, refusing to let her move. You didn’t need silly lotion, you needed her. You whined at the prospect of having to let go.

Natasha giggled and sat down next to Wanda. “Do you want me to do your lotion while you hang onto mommy?”

You nodded, sending her into the next room. Wanda kissed your temple. “I told you she likes you.”

“I’m so spoiled,” you mumbled blissfully into her neck.

“You deserve it, angel,” she said.

Natasha returned to the room with the bottle of lotion. She approached you and rubbed your back gently. “Alright little angel, is it okay if I touch your bottom, or do you want mommy to do that part?”

You pondered for a moment. On one hand, having Wanda do it would mean getting to lay over her lap again. But, you found yourself inexplicably excited by the thought of Natasha putting your lotion on. Maybe, if you played your cards right, you could have the best of both worlds.

“You can do it, Miss Natasha,” you said while flipping yourself over to lay over Wanda’s lap.

“Oh,” Wanda squeaked in pleasant surprise. From this position she could’ve just as easily applied the lotion. She was pleased to know that you wanted Natasha to do it, though. She pulled up your shirt and rubbed your back.

“Okay, it’s gonna be a little cold,” Natasha advised, giggling a little bit when you jumped at the cool liquid anyway. Her hands were so gentle as she soothed your raw skin. You wondered if she was this gentle with her subs as well. “All done. Do you want a kiss?”

You nodded, feeling so completely at ease with the two women taking care of you. Natasha placed a gentle kiss to each of your red ass cheeks.

“Does Tasha’s kisses make it feel all better?” Wanda asked.

You nodded into Wanda’s thigh.

“I’m glad I could help,” Natasha giggled, placing the lotion on Wanda’s nightstand so it’d be ready for you again in the morning. She crawled back into bed, making herself comfortable on her side.

Wanda placed you face down on her own side of the bed, trying not to disturb you too much as she slid her legs out from under your body. She crawled over you, placing herself in the middle between you and Natasha, pulling you tight into her side.

You laid your head on her chest, catching a glimpse of Natasha’s pretty smile in the low lighting. She really didn’t look like she minded you being here at all. In fact, she looked happy.

In your fuzzy haze, you waved at her from across the bed.

Wanda and Natasha both giggled, hearts swelling at the innocence of the gesture. You just wanted Natasha to feel included, and what better way to acknowledge her presence than with a kind wave hello.

Natasha waved back. “Hi, little angel,” she said, reaching over Wanda to pinch your cheek.

You looked up at Wanda, your big eyes gently pleading. “Mommy, do you think I could sleep on your other side so I can be closer to Miss Natasha?”

Wanda smiled giddily. She never expected such a request from you, but she was more than happy to oblige. She was overjoyed to see your relationship with Natasha growing. “Of course, sweet girl,” she said, effortlessly flipping you over to her other side.

“You know, you don’t have to call her Miss Natasha,” Wanda said. You’d always called her that since you’d first met her without any prompting to do so. She certainly didn’t mind, but Wanda had always secretly hoped you’d get past the formality. There was nothing she wanted more than for her two favorite people to love each other as much as she loved them. “I bet she’d like it if you called her daddy. Only if you wanted to.”

You faced Natasha, who looked surprised at the proposal, but nodded.

“I thought only your subs were allowed to call you that?” You said, equally shocked by Wanda’s words.

“Hmm…” she pretended to ponder the question. “For my little angel I think I can make an exception.”

You smiled. “In that case,” you pressed a small kiss to her cheek. “Goodnight daddy.” You turned back to Wanda, placing a kiss on her jaw as you snuggled back into her chest. “Goodnight mommy. I love you.”

“Sweet dreams, little angel,” Natasha said, wrapping herself up behind you.

“Get some rest, little love,” Wanda said, kissing your head.

And finally, the pendulum stopped swinging.

Taglist (ha I remembered this time): @boredandneedsfanfic @marvelwomenarehot0

[stormhearty]

Pushed to the Edge

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Trigger: angst, cheating, suicide, death

Word Count: 3k

Summary: You were the official seer of Night Court for nearly 500 years. the Inner Circle had always listened to you and your visions; however, when the Archeron sisters came and Elain started to show her powers, your family started to shift their attention to her visions. When you try to voice your warnings about the death-lord’s resurrection, everyone gave you the cold shoulder, ignoring your prophesies — this included your mate.

Note: no hate to Azriel or Elain, it just helped with the plot. and Also, I know it's completely unreasonable for Azriel to not have the Truth-Teller be with him at all times, just go with it for now. And I am working on “Reach Your Voice” Series, I’m still trying to figure out how to make sure each of our boys spends quality time with the reader.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

“That sounds absolutely absurd… How many times will you try to warn about something that will never happen?”

Your voiced died in your throat as you watched Rhysand look at you with apprehension before focusing on the paperwork in front of him.

You had ran into his office, waking up in cold sweat after another vision of another Death God crawling it’s way back into Prythian. You had tried to forewarn your High Lord for weeks on end ever since you first saw that vision. However, your warnings had been ignored by Rhysand. You knew that it sounded impossible, you knew that, Prythian had just finished a war — one that almost destroyed the world.

After the war with the King of Hybern, Prythian was slowly returning to its normal … well, attempting to fix what was broken by the King. The Night Court was healing, trying to rebuild itself again to its glory, helping other Courts to fix the damages that the war caused. Rhysand had been through an ordeal, losing his life to save Prythian and you knew that your High Lord was still recuperating from that tragedy. You knew that your High Lady was as well, almost losing her mate.

They didn’t need another war to happen when peace had barely returned.

But you also knew there was another reason your High Lord had been ignoring your for forewarning. You looked to the side, one where the rest of the Inner Circle was watching the confrontation. Cassian and Nesta, sitting close to each other, a glass of wine in their hands, whispering to each other, mostly likely about you and your vision. You could barely pick up with your keen Fae hearing on what they were saying.

“Do you think what she’s saying is real? That Koschei is trying to come back?”

“Elain hasn’t seen it though…”

The whisper of the middle Archeron child echoed in your ears as you looked at the Made Fae. She sat next to the window, brown eyes that seemed to sparkle like the sun rested on you before turning over to the male that she was sitting with. Your gaze followed hers to Azriel — your mate— but you can see that he didn’t bother to glance in your direction, only to focus on the delicate female next to him.

It hurt. You watched as the two of them conversed, glancing back in your direction before focusing on each other.

It was no secret, not for you, on Elain’s growing infatuation for the Shadowsinger, and in turn his own growing affections for the middle Archeron child — and in turn, losing his love for you.

You woke up in an empty bed, your mate missing from his side. You tried to talk to Cassian about how his day went, on if he would still train you with the Valkyries if he had time. You tried to converse with Rhysand and Feyre, seeing if they were healing properly after the war, wanting to make sure your High Lord and Lady were safe. You sought after you mate, wanting to spend even a second with him.

But they disregarded you so easily. Especially after they had found out that Elain had similar powers to you, one that was gifted to her by the Cauldron — one that was deemed more powerful than your own.

Your role as the Official Seer of Night Court was granted to you after Helion had sent you as an emissary for Day Court. Helion had found you wandering around Day Court lands. You had been a wandering child, with no real attachment to any Court, abandoned in the streets by your family at the age of five when your seer powers started to come into light. Helion had taken you in when you were ten, helped you hone your powers. Being a seer had been a mystery, no one in your heritage (that you were aware of) was a seer. And it baffled Helion on why such a remarkable gift had been casted aside.

You had stayed with the Night Court, gaining their trust and friendship for five centuries, gaining your own little foothold in their family. You had been a pillar when Rhysand had been trapped Under the Mountain for nearly fifty years. You helped Mor and Armen with the official Night Court Duties, trained with Cassian to ensure you were strong enough to fight when neither he nor Azriel was there.

During your time protecting Valeris from the eyes of Amarantha, your mating bond with the Shadowsinger snapped. It had been difficult at the start, both of you were still struggling with the disappearance of your High Lord, along with the weight of protecting the very city he hidden from view. But during that time, you became each other’s pillar, each other’s comfort in such a dark time. Falling in love with Azriel wasn’t difficult.

But keeping his love, apparently, was the most difficult.

When the Archeron sister’s came into everyone’s lives, it caused a tip in the scales. You loved Feyre, you loved your High Lady. You would do anything in your power to ensure she was safe and well cared for. But for the Cauldron-Made sisters, it was difficult for you to accept them.

They were different. You couldn’t see anything about them, as if the Cauldron had masked them from you powers. It made you terrified of them. Feyre and Rhysand had tried to assure you that the Archeron sisters deemed no threat to the Night Court. And you trusted them — trusted your High Lord and Lady without a blink of an eye. And yes, while their words deemed true, you did not realize that they were a different type of threat. One that would eventually lose your foothold in the Night Court.

You swallowed, your throat parched as you glanced from the sight of your mate and Elain speaking to one another to Rhysand and then to Feyre who had stood next to him. She gave you a worried look, wondering what you were wanting to tell them.

The air was tense, the declaration from your High Lord seeming to echo in your surroundings — he had deemed your vision to be false. And he had never done that before.

“… But…” you whispered, your voice nothing but wind in such a large room, “… I’ve seen it so many times, Rhys. Someone is trying to resurrect him. That they need a piece of something from the Cauldron — -”

“The Cauldron is with Miryam and Drakon… in Creta. There is no way that anyone would be able to use that power again,” Rhysand’s tone was taut, as if trying to drawn a line between the truth and your vision, “Your vision must be wrong, (Y/N). There is no way that Koschei can be resurrected from that lake.”

Another swallow, “But what if it doesn’t have to be the Cauldron itself. It could be something that was Made from the Cauldron.”

Rhysand’s eyes snapped up from his desk, up to you, eyes darkening at the words you were insinuating, “—- What are you trying to say, (Y/N)?”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes shifting down to your hands, fiddling with your fingernails — a habit that you’ve had ever since you were a child — one that would leave your hands raw from removing skin, ‘… Nesta and Elain were Made from the Cauldron. If it were to get word to the followers of Koschei, they… they could be in danger. The power that resides in them is the Cauldron… Nesta took something from the Cauldron and did not return it… They could be looking for that.”

It was already bad that you were trying to suggest a return of a Death God, months after a war with Hybern, but it was worse that you were even implying that the sisters were the center of being in danger again.

A dark shadow stood in front of you and you looked up to see Azriel. The golden string that connected the two of you sung, it had been weeks since Azriel went near you, but you knew that his side of the bond was shut, enshroud by shadows, completely shutting you out.

“Az—-” you said his name, as if it was a prayer, hoping he’d be the voice of reason. That he would back up you and your visions. As he always had in the past.

“How can we know that your visions are truth, (Y/N)? There are two Seers in the Night Court now, and yet you are the only one who sees this.”

Your ears rang, a high pitch noise echoing through them as disbelief shook your body. Azriel never distrusted you, never doubted your visions and your forewarnings.

The bond in you ached, as if it was burning you on the inside. Tears lined your eyes as you looked up at your mate, brows furrowing, “…How could you, Azriel?” you muttered, the pain lining your tone, “How can you not trust me?” your voice small.

“Because Elain hasn’t seen it,” was all he had to say.

Hot tears ran your cheeks, as you shakily stepped back from the male that had towered you. You glanced at Cassian and Nesta who looked at you, their eyes inattentive to the pain that you were feeling. You glanced at your High Lord, who looked at you with disinterest. You looked at your High Lady, the only person in the room that seemed to have noticed your pain and anguish, as she took a step towards you way, only to be stopped by Rhysand, his hand around her wrist.

“… So, just because the Cauldron-Made Seer hasn’t seen it, doesn’t mean that it is going to happen?” you asked, your question in the air for everyone to think, “… Just because I wasn’t a Seer Made by the Cauldron, that my visions and my words are not real? That I am a lesser of a Seer than her?”

“(Y/N)—-” Feyre, the voice of reason, called our your name.

You took a step back again, head shaking at them, “I’ve worked my life off for the Night Court. Ensuring that your city is safe, making sure that any danger would never step past the wards that you have put up. I have never hidden anything from any of you. I used my visions and my powers for all of you. And yet…” your voice shook at the end, not believing anything that was happening in front of you, “You disregard me… the moment a better Seer shows up. One that is Cauldron-Made… one that you…” eyes shifting to Azriel, “Deems more suitable for you.

“I’ve seen it. Not only in my visions but here with you all. You have decided to all turn a blind eye to it, decided not to tell me about it. Three sisters for three brothers, isn’t it, Azriel?”

Azriel’s form stiffed in front of you — he did not think that you would have heard that.

You were done, you were tired. You were tired of the lies and the deceit from whom you thought were family.

Feyre’s brows furrowed as she looked at you and then her elder sisters before the back of Azriel. Rhysand stood up as well, standing next to his High Lady at your declaration.

“… What are you talking about, (Y/N)?” Feyre asked, watching your form shake.

“Don’t you lie to me…” you muttered, glaring at your High Lady, “Don’t you dare lie that you have not seen it. Don’t you dare tell me that you have not noticed that Azriel and Elain have been together all this time. That you have turned a blind eye that a mated male would be infatuated, would fall in love with someone else that was not his Cauldron-bound mate. Don’t you dare lie to me you have not all seen it, and have ignored it and not tell me about it.

“You also have all disregarded me and my visions, ever since Elain started to show her own powers. You have all deemed, even without you telling me, that my powers are not worthy enough. That you all would listen to her cryptic visions rather than my own.”

Your words were rushed, you were hyperventilating to the point that your visions swam, but you shook your head, focusing on the scene unfolding — Feyre’s surprised look, Nesta and Cassian staring wide-eye at Elain before glancing at the Shadowsinger in front of you and your High Lord gripping the edge of the table, his violet eyes clearing as if he was in a trance, as if his mind has been cleared and he realized what he has done and what was unfolding with his family.

“No, (Y/N), that’s not what we meant…” he tried to reason, try to gain back your trust in the found family you had with them.

You scrunched your face, shaking your head as you looked at your High Lord before back at your mate, “…That’s what you have meant for the months you have been ignoring my forewarnings. Been ignoring me. Because Elain’s powers are better than mine, you have casted me aside…” Another step back, glancing at the grand door behind you before you glanced back at the family who had lost you, to the mate that had broken your entire being, “You had decided, to your own conscious, to fall in love with someone else, who is bound to someone else, just because you deemed that the Cauldron was wrong. I don’t understand what I have done to you, Azriel… when I have spent nearly five-hundred years with you, fifty years with you as your mate. And you, knowing Elain for a mere five minutes, throwing all that away…”

Azriel looked at you, his chest rising and falling quickly, his eyes staring you down. He watched as tears continued to flood down your cheeks, your form shaking even further. You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t just stand here and be the object that they throw away.

So, you ran, ran out of that room, your name echoing behind you as your dress swirled behind you. You climbed up the spiraling stairs to your shared room with Azriel, throwing up the strongest ward you can muster behind you and around you. You couldn’t handle it.

You couldn’t handle the echo of the bond in your chest, you couldn’t handle the empty stare of your mated looking at you. You couldn’t handle the thought that you were so easily replaceable. A sob escaped your lips as you rummaged through Azriel’s drawer of weapons, pulling out the one weapon that he never is without — Truth-Teller. Dark tendrils of shadow gripped your wrist as you looked around you, Azriel’s shadows surrounding you.

That was where his shadows went — they had always disappeared when he was around Elain, yet they were here with you.

Frantic knocks startled you as you grasped the weapon close to your chest, your head whipping around towards the door. You heard them — Feyre’s panicked voice, Rhysand’s apologizes, Cassian yelling your name. But you didn’t hear that one voice that you had loved — you knew Azriel wasn’t there.

That had pushed you. Gripping the weapon, you moved to the bathroom, the shadows following your every movement. As you kneeled down on the marble floor, you felt the tug of the shadows against your hand, trying to will the weapon out of your grip — attempting you to stop at a take of your life.

You had always loved the shadows that surrounded Azriel, both physically and metaphorically speaking. They had always comforted you, protected you, always had been there for both of you when times were tough. But this was one of the times that you didn’t want them protecting you, comforting you.

“Please..” you begged at them. Whether or not they would listen or sprint off to their master, they backed off, though a few tendrils stayed behind, slithering around your wrist, holding Truth-Teller, as if a reminder not to do it. But you had made your mind — you couldn’t stay and be pushed to the side. Not anymore.

And with a last breath impaled yourself with your mate’s beloved knife, the very knife he had handed Elain during the war, was the last thing you remembered. As your body fell against the marbled floor, your soul leaving your body, you felt the tendrils of shadow frantically skim over your body, as if to try to find a piece of life still clinging onto you. Eyes looked and watched as the ward was broken and your High Lord and Lady skidding towards your body as your soul left for the skies above, the cool feeling of shadow never leaving your body.

A gasp escaped your lips, the dull ache on your chest making you rub at it.

“— - What…” you mumbled, your voice hoarse as if not used for a century.

“That Shadowsinger did not know what he had decided to let go, huh…” A voice, one so dark and so familiar echoing.

You knew that voice, that voice that haunted you in your visions for weeks — the same voice that you tried to warn your family about. Eyes opening, you were surrounded by the dark, the voice of the Death-God echoing around you.

“I should have died…” you voiced to no-one.

A laugh echoed around you, “You did, (Y/N), but you forget that I am a Death-God… And I can resurrect anyone I wish. Now, that your family has abandoned you, why don’t you join me. Show them what happens when a Seer of your capacity has been cast aside. I should have had you when that original family of yours stranded you, but that damn High Lord of Day found you first. Anyway… come child…”

You laid there, in the darkness, before you shakily reach out a hand, before spiny fingers grasped onto yours and pulled you out of that darkness.

[ozzgin]

I've kept my promise and returned with dino smut. Switch it to a dinosaur hybrid if you're too afraid of the full package. Content: gender neutral reader, NSFW (gangbang), monster dinosaur smut

"You've got to be kidding me."

You kick the wheel and walk away, trying to steady your breathing. This can’t be happening. Behind you, the guide continues to tinker with the car engine. He has a reassuring smile plastered on his face, but you can tell from the cold beads of sweat that he’s just as terrified.

You are stranded in a desert filled with dinosaurs. Scientific miracle? Sure. Presently your death sentence, too.

“Don’t walk too far from the vehicle, (Y/N), otherwise I can’t reach you in time if something happens.”

“What, you have a black belt in dinosaur fighting or something?” you scoff at the man.

“Now listen, do you think we didn’t anticipate these scenarios? I am equipped with this little guy here”, he says, pulling out a small, electric device. “Has enough juice in it to shock a T-Rex.”

Maybe he has a point. The Jurassic Park proudly dons a reputation of flawless service and guaranteed safety. Surely they must be equipped to deal with something as insignificant as a car breaking down in the middle of a guided tour.

You attempt to smile back, gathering some courage. In your newfound peace you didn’t really notice that the massive rock behind the car has moved, or that it was never a rock to begin with.

A wide row of razor teeth engulfs your official tour guide, and the enormous mandible closes with a loud snap. The upper half of the man detaches in a surreal, surgical cleanliness. You stare, mouth agape. It takes you a second to process the execution you’ve just witnessed, but the ear-shattering screech swiftly wakes you out of your trance.

Escaping from an entire pack of ancient predators feels rather futile, but that doesn't stop you from crawling up the steep hill, hoping the damned creatures can't follow. Had you known your comfortable car ride required survival skills, you would've worn a different pair of pants.

What's even more ridiculous is the nature of your perpetrator. Of course, you tell yourself, you had to trust a company that can't differentiate between the Cretaceous and the Jurassic. What's one or two million years? What's one or two dead humans in the grand statistics of their park?

You finally reach the top of the hill, and trip over some overgrown roots. Your collapse is cushioned by the scarce bushes patching the ground. Suddenly, you feel the branches vibrating against your burnt cheeks. Dear Lord, futile indeed. The heavy, bulky legs of the Carnotaurus approach you in a chaotic trample, nonchalantly stepping over your last bits of hope.

Knees scraping against the rocks, you close your eyes and shield your face, bent over like some beggar awaiting punishment. You're petrified. Did the guide feel anything when his innards stretched and tore under the unforgiving mouth?

The rough, scaly skin of the monster brushes against the back of your thighs. There it is! Flesh coming undone, bones giving in to the...wait. What are they doing, exactly? You subtly tilt your head, trying to catch a glimpse of the strange event.

It seems that your resigned position has given them different ideas. The horned beasts investigate your scent with peculiar interest. A brief altercation ensues, in which they lock their horns together and their tails swing around threateningly, nearly crushing you in their blind aggression. You cry out and try to distance yourself from the thundering scene, but a clawed foot pins you back into the ground.

You suspect your present captor is the winner of the conflict, standing above you triumphantly as the others wait aside. Is this the part where you become a grand meal? Its enormous teeth graze your clothing, and the threads come undone.

In a most unexpected turn of events, it's you who ends up stuffed. You don't know what pain to focus on: your back hurts from the rhythmic swaying, bare skin grating against the parched earth; your privacy is burning from the sudden, invasive stretch, as the creature buries itself deeper with each hungry pound.

Eventually, a familiar knot begins to form in the pit of your stomach. The thrusts become smoother, your legs weaker. Shameless moans begin to roll out of your drooling mouth, and you hold onto the Carnotaurus' rugged hips. Its mouth is slightly open, panting and groaning, blowing hot air against your already feverish body.

Your own high is interrupted by a thick, hot wave of fluid abruptly crashing against your inner walls. The beast detaches itself from you, leaving you heaving, dripping and sighing in disappointment. The least you could've gotten from this erotic absurdity was a decent orgasm.

Your naked body is suddenly shrouded in shadow. You look up to see a different member of the pack positioning itself between your legs. Glancing at the others, a horrifying, perverted thought occurs to you: they're taking turns, fucking you relentlessly.

Perhaps you will get your chance, after all. Or multiple.

[cressidagrey]

Stars all aligned - Chapter 4

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

THIS IS BAD! I have updated the tags on AO3, but I'll add it on here too:

Bashing of like...every IC member? Especially the Archeron Sisters, discussion of chronic pain, discussion of Infertility, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Underage Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please, take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

Master. Master, you need to wake up! The shadows were the ones that woke him. Azriel blinked open his eyes… and a moment later the thick cloying scent of blood hit him.

It woke him up immediately. He shot upright on the couch, shadows rushing around him. The scent of blood came from Zahra’s room. 

Nobody else was in the cottage. He knew that. The shadows would have alerted him if there was. 

Which meant that…

He was up before he could think twice about it, hurrying to the door of her room, heart beating furiously, already dreading what might have happened. What she might have done to herself.  “Zahra?” Azriel asked loudly. “Zahra, are you alright?”

A choked gasp, a pitiful moan…all he needed to hear. “I am coming in.“ he warned her. Azriel pushed open the door…and he froze at the threshold of the doorway, staring at the sight awaiting him. 

This couldn’t all be her blood. 

Right? 

Zahra lay in the middle of the bed, curled on her side. Her body shook through painful shivers and her skin had already taken on a worrying grey colour, near lifeless. 

And the bed…the sheets…they were a mess of crimson. 

Blood had soaked through the sheets, staining the mattress…It was…it was horrific.

“Go away.” She whispered, her voice weak. “Please.”

Yeah. That was so not happening. 

His heart was pounding, his chest nearly painfully tight as his eyes focused on her. On Zahra’s shaking body, on her pale face. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Azriel said softly, his voice strained. Gods. What had she done to herself?  “Where are you hurt? What did you do?” He demanded, coming closer, reaching out to touch her arms. Her throat and wrists were unblemished, if one ignored the cold sweat…just as she whimpered again, nearly violently flinching, doubling over.

Between one breath and the next…suddenly it snapped.

The golden bond unfurled to the smell of his mate’s blood, to the sound of her pain.

“I…” she tried to speak, but her words became caught in her throat, choked off by another gasp of pain.��By the Mother…

Azriel could feel the bond between them. It seemed to hum in his very bones, demanding that he fix this, that he find the cause of her pain and make it stop.

He knelt on the bed, his knees sinking into the pool of blood, hands hovering above her.

“Where does it hurt?” He asked her desperately.

She just whimpered, her whole body shivering. “Can’t you just….leave me alone?” She asked brokenly, her voice cracking. “Please. It’s just…”

Azriel ignored her, carefully shifting her body until she was lying on her back. But in doing so, he accidentally brushed against her stomach, and all he could think was that he had literally never heard a scream so painful.

Her nightgown was drenched with sweat and blood…dark red right by…

„Have you had your cycle yet as a fae?“ Azriel asked sharply. But that shouldn’t…this was too much blood for that…wasn’t it?

Her eyes were scrunched shut, her face a twisted rictus of agony. She shook her head at his question, teeth clenching. “No…” she said through clenched teeth, her voice high with pain. “No, I haven’t gotten one..”

Which made no sense either because she had…because she had been a fae for nearly three years at this point. Zahra should have gone through multiple cycles by now. 

And while fae cycles were vicious, they weren’t…

They didn’t involve this much blood. Usually. 

Another whimper of pain, another tremble of that bond in his chest…and Azriel was done. 

Madja. He needed Madja.

“I’ll get Madja,” he told Zahra tightly, hands gently cupping her face. “I just need to go get her, and then I’ll be right back,” he promised her desperately, just as another choked-off moan came from her. 

The shadows came flowing out of the corners of the room, pressing against Zahra's face. Go, Master! they demanded.

Azriel’s throat closed up. He hated the thought of leaving her, even for a moment. But he gave a sharp, resolute nod. “Okay..okay, I will be right back.”

He gave her one last look, her pale face and dark hair soaked with sweat and blood, and then he was gone. 

“Madja!! Madja!” He bellowed. He wasn’t normally one to be panicked, he was an Illyrian trained from birth to be calm under stress, to keep his head. But this…Gods, this had his heart in his throat and his mind racing.

This was his mate. 

He had waited half a millennia for her and she had been right in front of his nose for three years and he hadn’t fucking seen it. 

If he had seen it earlier, maybe then it would have never gotten this bad, maybe then it wouldn’t have…

He was quite sure that he gave Madja half a heart attack, but quite frankly, Madja was used to worse from him and his family. 

And so, Madja only took one look at his panicked, wild expression and her own went serious. “What happened?” She asked as she rose from her chair.

“It’s Zahra,” Azriel said, his voice thick. He swallowed, trying to get a grip. “She’s…bleeding. So much…blood. It’s everywhere, it’s all over her bed and clothes and…gods, I don’t know what happened, but I need you to come, now.”

Madja’s eyes widened, her hands going to the satchel at the table. “Take me to her.” She said simply, shoving a few jars into her bag. 

Zahra was where he had left her, shadows worriedly swirling around her. And the sigh that greeted them made even Madja’s breath hitch. 

“Zahra, can you hear me?” Madja asked immediately. “I am going to help you, alright?”

Zahra’s eyes flickered but didn’t open. Her breaths were uneven and pained, her face twisted. “Y-yeah…” she panted, voice quavering.

Azriel knelt by the bed, one hand coming down to hers and lacing their fingers together. He could feel the damp and icy cold skin against his…her heartbeat skittering underneath her skin…Azriel was practically shaking himself with how worried he was, his whole body trembling with fear.

“You’re going to be just fine,” he murmured softly. “Madja is here, she will figure out what’s wrong.”

Zahra groaned, her fingers giving a weak twitch in his before gripping onto his hand like a lifeline.

“Hurts..” she whimpered, her voice cracking.

“I know,“ Madja said soothingly. “I’ll need to lift your nightgown, alright? Just to see where we are at.“

Zahra gave a low whine, her eyes scrunching up tighter, but she made no protest or move to stop the healer. Azriel didn’t know if she did that because she trusted Madja or because she was far too far gone to even care. Madja carefully peeled back the blood-soaked fabric, carefully lifting it up over her stomach.

Azriel kept his eyes on Zahra's face, pressing a kiss against the back of her hand.  “Squeeze as tight as you need to,” he told her softly. 

“What if I hurt you?” she forced out, but he just shook his head. 

“You won’t,” Azriel promised her simply. And even if she did…he wouldn’t care. He would have given everything in that moment to make sure that she was comforted even a tiny little bit. 

Her face was drenched in sweat, her body quivering, and she looked far too young, too fragile at that moment. 

He forgot sometimes, how young she really was. Not even a century yet. Not even…

But she still squeezed his hand tighter. Her eyes clenched closed, her breaths laboured and quick. “Hurts…it hurts so badly…” she whimpered brokenly.

Whatever Madja was doing to her…Zahra’s breathing was becoming panicked and even more pained, her whole body shaking. 

Azriel was having to restrain the urge to pull her into his arms, to tug her up against his chest and try to soothe her. To drag her away from Madja, who he knew was only trying to help and instead comfort his mate. 

So instead, he pressed another kiss to her sweat-slick skin even as she cried out sharply. The sound made him flinch. 

“Gods,” Madja cursed sharply and Azriel’s head snapped towards her. She was looking far more upset than Azriel had ever seen her. 

“What is it? “ he asked shakily, Zahra whimpering and he turned back towards her, unable to tear his gaze away from the anguished, pain-filled face of his mate. “What’s happening?

“You should have been brought to me immediately, Zahra” Madja said softly. “I could have lessened the pain, dear.”

Zahra didn’t say a word, biting her lips, her face still pulled up into a pain-filled grimace. 

“How often?” Madja asked, her voice softening.  

Zahra’s breaths were hitching, coming in shallow pants as her trembling increased. She shook her head softly, her words coming out between gasps. “Often,” she’d whimpered.

Zahra gave another moan, and her hand clenched even harder around Azriel’s. Every one of her shudders and flinches was like a knife straight into his heart.

He had no idea what they were talking about, but it couldn’t be good, he knew that much. 

“How old were you the first time?” Madja asked gently.

“15,” Zahra whispered, wetting her lips. Every single word seemed to be forced out of her chest.  “I was 15.“

15…so young. Gods, so damn young.

Madja’s face was grim, “And the last?” The healer questioned.

“It went on for 6 years,” Zahra whispered. “Until 4 years ago.”

Madja nodded tightly. “You were still human,” Madja said softly. “The scarring is…extensive. Humans heal slower don’t they?”

“Yes,” Zahra whispered.

Azriel’s heart was hammering in his chest, his mind racing to try to catch up to the conversation that was happening. He felt so goddamn useless. There was something wrong, so wrong, and he couldn’t do a thing to try and help. The feeling of helplessness was killing him.

And this…this sounded like they were implying something so awful that he daren’t voice it. 

“What’s wrong with her?” He demanded. “What do you mean by scarring?”

Madja’s hands were moving across the skin of Zahra’s abdomen, pressing down gently, something that resulted in Zahra’s whole body flinching “There is extensive scarring in her reproductive system.” The healer told him bluntly. “Like she has been injured for an extended period. Over and Over.”

Zahra let out a shuddering gasp, her head tilting to press into the pillows and away from the healer’s hands.

“Cauldron, sunshine, what happened to you?” Azriel whispered.

He hadn’t actually expected an answer. He got one nonetheless.

“I did what I had to. I always did what I had to,” Zahra whispered, green eyes begging him to understand. “We had no money and Feyre was sick and… Was I supposed to let my little sister die?” Azriel went utterly still at her words

She had…she had done something to her own body to save her sister. Something bad enough to give her scars on her internal organs. What the hell had she ever done to cause this much damage?

“What did you do?” He forced out.

Her breath was shaky. “I gave the only thing that was mine to give up. The only thing that…the only thing that that apothecary would want,” she recounted with a shudder. Azriel’s blood went cold, freezing in his veins.

He didn’t…he couldn’t possibly mean…

“He raped you.” He whispered.

He wished she would disagree…would tell him that that hadn’t happened…but what she did say…it was even worse. 

“I went to him willingly. I let him do this to me. I didn’t fight him,” Zahra corrected him, her voice weak. 

Like that made it any better. Like that…

“You were so young,” he said softly. “Gods…Zahra..” his voice broke, and he couldn’t speak anymore.

He didn’t even have the words…didn’t even have the thoughts…didn’t…

“He hurt you,” he choked out.  It wasn’t a question.

A shuddering breath from her. 

“Yes,” Zahra answered weakly. “It…I did it once for medicine. But after that…I did it for money. I came back and I let him do it to me again. And again. And when he got bored, he thought of something new, something worse and…He did things to me…I didn’t even know you could do that to another person.” 

His entire body was shaking with rage. The shadows wreathing around him darkened almost into black. 

He had never wanted to rip another person into pieces with his bare hands as much as he wanted to right now. 

Madja stilled next to them, her hands still on Zahra’s skin…trying to heal the worst of it, Azriel could feel that. 

The healer’s face was carefully blank, but Azriel had known her long enough to see the subtle signs of anger. Madja had an incredibly good mask, but Azriel was able to read people when they didn’t want to be read.

And…there was another thing…

“Do your sisters know?” he asked weakly. Did they know and still treated Zahra like they did? Ignored her outright at some points and wished she didn’t exist at others? 

The dynamic had been fucked up from the start…the first time they had met Zahra she had been in her maid uniform…clearly treated not as a member of their family but as staff. 

But they had believed…they all had believed that maybe the change from human to fae was good for one thing and that would fall away…that this could heal…that all 4 of them could be sisters, properly, now. Maybe something that went well for once. 

Now Azriel wondered how naive he had been in particular. 

He was a bastard just as she was. Azriel would never be accepted by his half-brothers either. His half-brothers had ruined his hands. And her sisters…

“Nesta…Nesta thinks I had an affair with a married man,” Zahra choked out. “Which I did. Kind of.” 

A horrible, bitter laugh tore itself out of the Azriel’s chest. “An affair…” he repeated, disbelieving. “You didn’t have an affair. You were raped.”

“I let him do it. I did it willingly,” Zahra disagreed, her voice weak. 

She had agreed, because otherwise they would have starved. 

“You were fifteen!” Azriel whispered, anger flaring up with his grief. “You were a child! You were nothing but a goddamn child. And you did what you had to to survive. You sacrificed yourself for your family’s survival!” He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to get a grip on his own emotions.

Madja’s hands were still moving over the skin of her stomach, her face set in a heavy grimace.

Zahra’s eyes were fixed on his face, her breaths still shallow and pained. “I am sorry.”

He couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand her apologies. Not right now. Not for this.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he whispered, pressing another kiss to the back of her hand.

“You were just a child,” Azriel repeated, voice choked. “None of this is your damn fault.” For once… she didn’t protest. 

Zahra just closed her eyes, a few tears trickling out from between her lashes.

Madja’s hands stilled, and then the healer carefully pulled away. She didn’t say anything, and Azriel felt a new fear fill his chest. “What is it?” He asked her. “What’s wrong?”

“The scarring is…extensive,” Madja said carefully. “I am…I am sorry, but I think you may be barren.”

Zahra didn’t even flinch.

“I know,” Zahra answered, her voice flat. “I haven’t bled in years until now.” The words were like someone driving an ice-cold knife between his ribs and into his heart.

He didn’t care that she couldn’t carry his children. He didn’t fucking care. 

He only needed to know that she was safe and healthy…But to know she had been hurting for so many years…to know that she had sacrificed herself for her family…it broke his heart. 

And they didn’t even know that she had done that. 

Madja’s expression darkened further. Perhaps at the thought of what Zahra had been forced to endure, or perhaps because this new information opened up a whole other level of complication.

“That…does explain why the bleeding has been so severe,” the healer said. “Gods, child.”

There was silence in the room, Azriel still gripping Zahra’s hand in his. 

He didn’t care that she couldn’t give him children, not unless she wanted to. But the fact that she would never have a choice in the matter. That she had sacrificed not just her innocence, but the future she could have had, for her family’s sake…

He clenched his jaw so tightly he was surprised it didn’t crack.

Zahra was staring up at the ceiling, her emotions carefully schooled and hidden away. So cold and indifferent…so numb. Numb. 

He could recognise the signs because he often felt like that as well. 

Azriel wanted to hold her. He wanted to pull her up to his chest and into his arms and hide her from the entire world. From all the horrors and nightmares that she had been forced to endure.

Protecting and keeping her and making sure she never hurt again…

“I have some potions for you to take…I’ll ask Violet to make you some specially tailored for you…” Madja said softly. 

Violet was the apothecary they used for most of their potions. And also the one that Zahra did the accounts for. 

Azriel forced himself to nod. Zahra made some vague murmur of understanding, as Madja put said potions on the bedside table. 

Madja turned her gaze to Azriel, dark eyes searching his face. “You should stay with her tonight,” she said quietly. “Make sure the bleeding doesn’t get worse and call me immediately if it does.”

Azriel nodded again. He wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, not unless Zahra asked him to leave.

The healer rose, giving another glance at the two of them. She made a sound in the back of her throat, as though she wanted to say something, but she just gave a single nod before turning and leaving the room.

And then it was just the two of them in the room. Azriel sat crouched next to her on the bed, his hand still clamped around hers.

He didn’t know what the damn hell he was supposed to say.

“I’m sorry.” And there she was, apologizing yet again for something that wasn’t her fault in the least. 

His eyes widened at her voice, the unexpectedness of it breaking the silence in the room.

“What?” He asked, his voice cracking. “What could you possibly be sorry for?”

She didn’t open her eyes, but he saw her expression flicker slightly. “For…for this.” She said hoarsely. “For making you deal with this.”

His heart felt like it was collapsing in on itself again. “You didn’t make me do anything,” he said quietly. “And you have nothing to apologise for.”

[keyotos]

“please stay” after a nightmare from aventurine pls!!! i 🫶 how u write him hehe <3

the way that i am

summary ↯

aventurine's nightmare has him spiraling left and right. and also into you.

apart of the niche microtropes event!

word count ⎯ 3.5k

tana's thoughts ⎯ i am so sorry i got to this so late! i started working at a hospital this summer (working, not volunteering—BIG SHIFT YAY) so i've been a bit occupied!

aventurine doesn't even bother to look at the clock when he jolts up. his back is utterly slick with sweat—a feeling he detests. the room feels as though it's spinning slowly, then quickly, and slowly again. the cavity where his heart lies is pounding.

his fingers grip into the hotel sheets as a way to tether himself back to reality. but the attempt proves to be futile. his breaths have gotten even shallower before; aventurine begins to think that he may pass out from hyperventilation.

this is not the first time something like this has happened. aventurine knows what the protocol usually is. he'll be awake for a few more hours, and then eventually fall asleep for an hour before he has to wake up again.

however, this time it's different. swarmed by not only his childhood, but also red splotches covering his hands, rough metal, and thousands of eyes glowering down at him. everything overtook him—multiple topics all at one time, crashing down into his mind.

the hotel room was pitch black and frigid. the thin covers that the "5-stars" establishment provided did not render any heat whatsoever. not that it mattered to aventurine at the moment. his body felt like it was running a fever: how a nightmare could make him sweat, ache, and scalding was beyond him.

his sweat began seeping through his shirt, causing the material to stick to his skin. he needs it off.

aventurine didn't bother to turn on any lights (or use his phone light, even)—he doesn't think he could bare look at himself if he did. when dealing with nightmares, most people usually shake it off, distract themselves, and fall back asleep. but for aventurine, the waves of shame that wash over him are strong. dismay, embarrassment, and regret are some of the few emotions that crash into him left and right.

the mirror is hard to stare at after a nightmare. aventurine recalls one night—when he was a bit younger—where he turned on the bathroom light to wash his face. upon seeing himself in the fluorescent glint; a lethargic, sullen, and heavy reflection looked back at him. sunken eyes and cheeks that sink down to the floor—both paired with a sickeningly pale face.

he retched in the toilet shortly after.

aventurine put on some slippers as he stumbled on the way to the closet. luckily for him, it was right across from the bed, giving him easy access to change. however, the trip to the closet was still full of its' challenges: aventurine ran into the bed-frame multiple times, and almost tripped on his own feet.

yet, he managed to be successful as he hastily unbuttoned his previous shirt to slide on a new one. he would call it luck that he didn't run into the corner of the bed-frame.

aventurine didn't bother to finish buttoning up his shirt. his mind reeled to the next thing his body needed: a cold glass of water.

though the new shirt alleviated some of his discomfort, he was still running hot. sweat still beaded down his head, and he ran a hand through his damp, blond hair to straighten up.

with a bit more shuffling, his hands guided him to the door to leave his room. aventurine considered sleeping on the couch for the rest of the trip—not wanting to be back in that room for the next week—however he was worried you'd begin to question his antics.

you're smart. you catch on instantaneously and you're too quick-witted for your own good. sometimes, your big mouth gets you in trouble, but that's why aventurine is your partner: he's damage control. but your biggest flaw would have to be your nosiness. and aventurine—though he harbors no negative feelings towards you (except the minor annoyance)—is not ready to detail the specifics of why he planned to sleep on the uncomfortable couch for the remainder of the trip.

aventurine opens the door and tries his best to not slam it, just so he doesn't wake you. he rubs his eyes and yawns as he traverses down the corridor. his hands are scattered throughout the walls, and aventurine tries his best to not hit any corners as he walks.

there's a slight murmuring noise as he gets closer to the kitchen, and he pauses. there's a bright light being emitted, but it's not from the overhead light. aventurine slows down his breathing (which—is quite hard in his predicament) to better hear the sound.

aventurine's feet creep closer and closer, until he hears the noise suddenly stop. now would be a good time to go back to your room, he internally voices. but aventurine doesn't move. he's planted on the ground, anxiously anticipating what would come next. he doesn't know if it's due to shock from his nightmare, or because he was too exhausted to move any more.

"hey. what are you doing up?" you turn the corner, shining the light from your phone to see.

aventurine moves his hand up to cover his face from the light, "aeons, that thing is bright." you lower the brightness while aventurine puts his hand down. he continues, "you're going to go blind looking at that thing in the dark like this."

this is how it always goes. pretend nothing ever happened. no nightmares, no terrors, no deep-seated fears. aventurine was just tired, which wasn't exactly a lie.

he just hopes that you won't be able to see through it like everyone else does.

"i'm pretty sure that's a myth," you put your phone in the pocket of your shorts. the dark setting makes things a lot more intimate, aventurine thinks. he gulps—thankful for the darkness concealing it—and tries not to dwell on the topic for much longer.

"pretty sure that it's science," aventurine responds, leaning on the wall.

you mock him, repeating his words in a distorted voice that makes aventurine question what he is still doing here. yet, he doesn't leave. not even when you say, "since when do you know anything about science? aren't you a glorified tax collector? shouldn't you be worried about... tax evasion?"

the blond rolls his eyes, even when you couldn't see it. "it's basic knowledge, first of all. and i worry. how are you supposed to complete our mission if you can't see?" he lets out a yawn afterwards.

"yeah, yeah," you say, voice drawing out, "whatever. i know you just secretly care for me!" you tease, attempting to poke him in the shoulder, yet missing due to the lack of light.

funny, aventurine thinks. real funny.

"you also never answered my question by the way. what are you doing up?" you ask.

internally, aventurine sighs. he should've known that you would've circled back to that. he thought that exhaustion would cloud your judgement too (considering that it was 2:30 in the morning), but alas, it has not.

sometimes, he thinks that nothing could cloud your judgement, even if it was the strongest effort in the world. aventurine has always found it admirable, though he would never admit it.

"no reason. i'm just not feeling tired," he lies, standing straight up. it makes no difference really, because it wasn't like you could see him anyway.

"you lying liar who lies!" you laugh, "you just yawned like... thirty seconds ago."

aventurine brushes you off, "that doesn't mean anything."

"if you yawn that literally means you're tired," you exaggerate, "pretty sure that's science."

"do you really have to mock me at two in the morning?"

"um, is there ever a time to not mock you?"

aventurine groans. this time, not out of exhaustion. "how are you not tired yet?"

"i haven't gone to bed yet," you shrug, "like, at all." in the darkness, aventurine can see you fiddle with the string of your pajama shorts. "i've always been that way—abnormal. but i'm usually not tired in the morning, so i guess i'm fine."

aventurine hums in response. you talk quite often, but it's not usually about yourself. he leans back on the wall again, letting his head rest as you continue to tell him anecdotes about your chaotic sleeping schedule. this is your normal.

it's certainly not his. aventurine made sure to get eight hours (or more) of sleep each night. he had a routine—a perfectly constructed one, in fact—that would ensure he'd be rejuvenated in the morning. and it was good. it helped him forget; the focus on the ritual would subside any memories of his past that would haunt him.

like tonight.

although, it seems as though his nightmares are an abnormality as well, but he doesn't accept it like you do.

"i'm not gonna pry if you don't wanna tell me," he hears footsteps pattering closer to him. he still can't see you, but he knows you're close. his breath slightly hitches, just in case.

you continue, "but, i can invite you to what i was doing. you know, if you can't sleep either."

before aventurine could reject the idea, you open up your phone, the bright light blinding the both of you. you squeak a quick apology and turn the brightness down, just to where the both of you could see each other.

from his point of view, aventurine nearly has you pinned against him. his body is leaning against the wall, while his arm is propped up on it. you're below his arm, leaning against the wall as well; except, your head is underneath his arm.

you don't seem to notice the position the two of you are in, seeing as you are glued to your phone. in other circumstances, aventurine would've made a snarky comment about it, but the ability to speak was stolen away from him. there you are, right in front of him, obliviously scrolling through your social media. you haven't looked up, not even a glance.

part of him thinks that he should be grateful. tonight has been a rough night, and he's sure that he doesn't look particularly pleasant right now. his hair is tousled, blond strands mangled due to the earlier rustling. his eyes must be drooping, since he's not used to waking up during these hours.

but you don't notice whatsoever. you're here, aimlessly scrolling on your phone—searching up whatever (probably some kind of niche reference)—and not even looking up. and that's when the other part of aventurine comes in. why aren't you peering up at him? do you not feel his eyes boring into your body? can you not feel the rigidity of his stare?

aventurine would do anything to see you glance up: to see your breath hitch when noticing the position the two of you are in, or to finally see you be rendered speechless. he wants to see you hide away from his gaze, looking at anything except for him. then, he might able to come up with a remark as good as yours. only then.

he's torn between two halves of himself. you're his greatest relief tonight (shocking, as aventurine would usually refer to you as his greatest nuisance), but also his greatest fear. when he talks to you, aventurine feels like he's feverous: his heart rate increases when thinking of a retort to your wits, and he shivers with chills whenever you make wondrous and logical reasonings. but he's terrified of what would happen if you saw him—truly saw him. would you be able to come up with a witty response, or would you look at him with pity? would you pull back your punches, replacing your ardent jabs for dull responses?

aventurine didn't want to lose that.

"found it!" your excited voice knocks him out of his head. you click on a video of a wooden bowl filled with water and some blocks. or cubes. or spheres?

"um," aventurine peers down, "what is that?"

"wood soup!" you enthuse, scrolling through your social media to find more.

aventurine decides that he is lost. "wood... soup..."

"i don't see why you're so baffled by this," you shake your head, "it's not edible if that's what you're wondering. it's water and wood, ergo the name is: wood soup."

you pull the blond down a rabbit hole of wood soup videos, and aventurine becomes glued to your device with you. the two of you were definitely standing there for more than five minutes. you glance at him a couple times—just out of the corner of your eye—and aventurine has to suppress the urge to swallow every time.

"oh, oh," you pull up another video, "this one is my favorite!"

you've said that about ten times now. you definitely have not been keeping track, but aventurine has. sometimes, his gaze switches from your phone to you. you're distracted enough that you didn't notice him staring. aventurine silently thanked the aeons for "wood soup" being a distraction.

"this one is pretty good," aventurine murmured down to your neck. he occasionally felt his eyes sag, but blinked a few times to get rid of the fatigue. he rubbed his hand against his eyes to wake himself up.

"works like a charm, doesn't it?" you voice is soft when you give aventurine a slight smile. "these videos always put me to sleep."

you look up at him—actually making eye contact—and place your head on the spot on the wall directly under his arm. your arms are crossed over your chest, and you're biting down on your lip in an effort to not smirk or become smug.

aventurine knows this expression. it's your, "i was right from the whole time" expression.

and for a second, aventurine is scared. he should've walked back to his room earlier, instead of getting swooped up in your presence. judging by the expression you're donning at the moment, aventurine can tell you have him figured out. you were right about his lying earlier, and now you were gonna question him. and what was he going to say? what excuse was he going to come up with now?

would he tell the truth and reveal his most vulnerable bits of himself? what would you even think of that? what would you even say to that? aventurine admits, he's always wanted you to be rendered speechless, but not like this.

and what would you two be afterwards? not just coworkers, as aventurine wanted it to be originally. but you two are far away from becoming close friends. you are the person he needs by his side right now; you are one of the most important assets in the game he is playing. he can't lose you now.

and there's one more reason for aventurine's fears. though he will never admit it: he enjoys spending time with you. from a mission standpoint, you are one of his perfect partners. you balance him with your wit and observation, while he balances you with calculation and persuasiveness. but it's not just that. you're funny (annoyingly so) and you distract him. you make it easy to forget everything else when you're standing in front of him. sometimes, his heart races and all he can think about is you, you, you; every beat of his heart is a syllable of your name.

you make him feel normal. aventurine always knew he was abnormal, whether it was due to his eyes or status, he always knew. and then you waltz in, making sure that you are the weirdest person in the room. it makes him feel okay. safe, even.

safe. aventurine's heart is pounding out of his chest, waiting for you to say something. you make him feel safe, he realizes.

he can't lose you now. not like this.

you tilt your head, glancing up at his face. he watches as your eyes move from the furrow of his eyebrows, to his drooping eyelids, to his pursed lips, and to his slightly clenched jaw. you bite the inside of your lip—a sign that you want to say something, aventurine notes—and let a light sigh slip.

"rest up," you nod, placing your hand on his shoulder. your thumb brushes the fabric of his shirt, barely covering his shoulder. you're nearly touching skin. "you look like you need it," you quietly chuckle. if aventurine heard correctly, you muttered a soft, "yeesh," as well.

aventurine let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. you didn't say a thing. and that may be for the better.

you didn't pry, like you normally would. there were no additional questions. no follow-ups, no interrogations. your fingers brushed his shoulder and he had to make sure he wasn't going delirious from lack of sleep.

nothing was ruined. everything is okay. he is safe. it is a mantra he repeats in his head over and over. he had to make sure it was real. aventurine thought about pinching himself, but feeling your hand on his shoulder was enough evidence for him. your hand hasn't moved. neither has he.

aventurine's eyes are wide when he looks at you. you give him another small smile, "goodnight, okay? i don't wanna see you when i'm awake at 3 in the morning," you joke. "i have a feeling you get real cranky if you don't get your 12 hours of sleep."

first of all, it's 8. aventurine fought off the urge to correct you. this moment was too good to be true.

he couldn't go back to sleep after this. not when he'd be thinking about you and your hand all night. not when he knows that he'd be putting his own hand on his shoulder, recreating how you brushed it with your delicate ones. most of all, he felt like he couldn't fall asleep without you there with him. a chilling realization, he notes.

this is definitely one of the most craziest things he was about to do. insane, actually. when you're about to pull your hand off of aventurine's shoulder, he places his hand on top of yours, trapping it there.

"please, stay," he breathes. it's a shaky plead, and you can feel his hand tighten on top of yours.

"um," he looks around the hallway the two of you were in, "in my room."

you blink, "what?"

aventurine begins to chastise himself. this was a dumb idea. you shouldn't do this. run. but he continues, "could you stay with me in my room tonight?"

is this selfish? possibly. aventurine knows that you and him aren't close enough to share a bed. you guys haven't even shared a drink yet. but he needed you tonight. you help him feel safe. secure. okay. normal.

just for one night, could he indulge? he trusts you.

you blink a few more times. your chest has an unsteady rhythm of rise and fall. has he done it? are you speechless?

"uh. um," you pause. aventurine can tell that you're debating between yes and no. he waits, staring back at you. you bite back down on your lip, turning away.

"you know what. sure."

you and aventurine stumble over to his room in the dark. your footsteps are the only audible noise in the hotel room, and it invites an air of close intimacy between the two of you. he falls into bed first, with you awkwardly clambering in after him.

aventurine lies down like a stick at first. you are not much difference. your back is facing him, and you realize that the two of you cannot fall asleep like this.

you sigh and turn around, facing the blond next to you. it's awkward, for sure. anyone would probably be able to tell that neither of you has gotten into bed with another party before. but you've seen your fair share of movies, so you come up with an idea.

"turn around," you mumble. aventurine listens with no retort on his tongue. you gulp.

"let me know if you don't like this, okay?" you inch closer and closer to the man beside you, until your chest touches his back. you feel him tense, and you inch away a little. you bring your arms out in front of you and wrap them around aventurine.

aventurine's body is taut at first. he's stiff as a board, and you let go a bit to get him to relax. his hand slowly comes up and brushes over where your hand is. he grasps onto it—not as tightly as before—but a light touch, as if he was curious if you were still here or not.

"is this okay?" you whisper. your body is so close to his. you feel insane.

"yes," he responds. he isn't sure if he's capable of saying any more words. aventurine is already worrying that you can hear the way his heart his clamoring. he doesn't want to worry about nonsense spewing from his mouth as well.

your chest is pressed directly against is back. his instincts tell him to squirm away, but is body is telling him to stay right where he is.

later, when he feels your chest synchronize with his, he sighs. your head digs into his shoulder, and he's nearly about to fall asleep. his past nightmare has been forgotten. a topic for another time, he thinks.

you speak up again, your voice no louder than a whisper, "did you know that cuddling leads to an easier time falling asleep?"

aventurine lets out a light chuckle, "really? and how did you know that?"

"oh, i don't know. science?"

[just-jordie-things]

just like my crush - fushiguro megumi

word count: 3.8k warnings: swearing, reader is doped up from anesthesia summary: confessing that you have a crush on someone really isn't that hard. all it takes is anesthesia clouding your judgment. a/n: brought to you by my lovely nanami flowershop anon's beautiful brain !!!

___

Injuries in this line work wasn’t unusual.  Someone was always occupying Shoko’s little infirmary and keeping her busy.  Nasty gashes, sprained wrists, broken bones- it was practically a part of the job description.  No, it wasn’t pretty, but at least with a master of the Reverse Cursed Technique on site, the mishaps that came with assignments never lasted too long.

Because of this expectation, Megumi had never been put in a position where he worried over someone’s well being after an exorcism gone awry.  He’d had life threatening wounds get healed more times than he could count on both hands, hell, Yuji lost a hand and got that back! 

So why did he feel sick to his stomach when she took a bad hit during an assignment? Why did his throat close up too tight for him to explain the situation to the manager on the assignment? Or to Ieiri when he got her back to campus? Why was there a cold sweat racing down his spine, but his insides felt like they were on fire? 

Despite all of Ieiri’s insisting that (y/n) was fine, that she’d gotten here just in time, that she was healed and would wake up at any time- likely without the memory of what happened- and that she would still be fine then… Megumi didn’t tear himself out of that room in the infirmary even once.  

When she does wake up- two days and a couple hours later- he doesn’t look too good.  He’d pale and he’s been bouncing his leg for so long it’s gone numb, but the relief that washes over him brings some color back to his face.

Her eyelashes flicker about a few times before she finally opens her eyes, but his attention is drawn to the way her hand twitches above the stark white sheets.

“Hey,” He murmurs, as quiet as he can stand to speak.  He didn’t want to startle her, and he thinks that if she were to flinch back at him, he’d flinch too.  “(y/n), you awake?” He asks when she doesn’t say anything right away.

Then her eyes finally find him, and with a hazy gloss over her blown pupils, she smiles.  It’s slow, and so, so impaired, but it’s pretty nonetheless.

“Oh, wow,” 

Her voice is strained, likely from not having been used for a couple days, but the light and breezy way in which she speaks is enough for him to know that her anesthetics haven’t worn off.  The stoner-like smile also tipped him off pretty well, but Megumi’s sure now.

“You know who you look like?” 

It’s not the question Megumi’s expecting, and his confusion is obvious in the way a tiny knot forms between his brows.  He would’ve thought  ‘where am I?’ or ‘what happened?’ would be in order, but maybe the anesthesia was more on top of her than he would’ve thought, so he hums in response and waits for her explanation.  Surely she’ll have something silly to say, it wouldn’t be the first time she called him a sea urchin for his messy hair.

“You look jus’ like my crush” (y/n) half-slurs back.  She tilted her head in his direction, trying to get a better look at him from where she was laying, but the rest of her body felt too heavy to move.

Megumi’s eyes widen, and before he can stop himself a small laugh comes out.  Confusion, humor, and disbelief blend into the overwhelming relief in knowing that Ieiri hadn’t been lying to him to protect his feelings.  (y/n) would be completely fine.

Maybe a little bit high, but still, completely fine.

Her shoulders shake in the slightest when she laughs in response to his own little chuckle, delighted purely by his reaction.

“I’m serious,” She mumbles out, eyes falling heavy for a minute the longer she stares at him.  “And it’s a compliment too, b’cause he’s, like, really cute”  “I didn’t know you were crushing on anyone” Megumi hums, leaning his elbows against the edge of her cot so that he could prop his chin in his hands.  Amusement flickers in his eyes when her expression noticeably shifts.  Her eyes widen and her lips part but no words come out.  Was he actually making her nervous? Who the hell did he look like in her eyes right now that had her reacting like this? 

Megumi can’t recall a time she’d ever talked to him about crushing on anyone.  Nothing of the sort, not even a hint.  And he’d definitely never seen the ruthless sorcerer appear so… 

Well, she looked like a girl with a crush.  A blush was forming on her cheeks the longer he held eye contact with her, and the way the corners of her mouth twitched and betrayed her as she tried to bite back a smile.

“Y-yeah, duh,” She stammers back at him with a sassy roll of her eyes.  Megumi’s quick to push his hand against his mouth to stifle his laughter.  “The point of a crush is it’s secret” 

“So you’re not gonna tell me then?” He asks curiously.

She probably didn’t know it, but (y/l/n) (y/n) was the only person in the world that got to see the playful side of him.  It was hard not to act on his intrigue, though.  It was too entertaining to see her in this state… and the rapid beating of his heart in his ribcage made him ache to know more.

But she shakes her head against her pillow, sealing her lips shut to further prove her point.  She’s still smiling, though, and she hasn’t torn her eyes off of his since she woke up.

“How’re you feeling, anyways?” Megumi decides to steer the topic back to one of more importance.  “Anything hurt? Can I get you anything-?” 

“Even your eyes are pretty like his,” She interrupts him, and then sighs as though this was a large inconvenience for her.  “You must be related,” She says matter-of-factly.

He hopes that when the drugs wear off she doesn’t remember this moment, because Megumi knows his face is as red as a tomato with how fiery his skin feels.  A nervous laugh bubbles out of him before he could choke it down, and her whole face lights up in response.

“You must not get compliments often, huh?” She teases in a slow drawl.

“I… I guess not,” He says, followed by more nervous laughter that happens against his will.  “But thank you, (y/n).  That’s very… kind” 

He’s painfully awkward, and he knows that as soon as he leaves this room he’s going to overthink this entire interaction, but for now he tries to bask in the warmth that sparks from knowing she thinks he has pretty eyes.  Or at least, she does when she’s so doped up she can’t quite focus on a conversation.

But at least she's obviously not in any pain.  Megumi’s worries begin to melt away, but that might just be the work of her flattery.

“You’re welcome,” She grins back at him, but she just as soon furrows her brows and regards him curiously.  Even after staring at him so shamelessly, she suddenly doesn’t appear to recognize him one bit.  “I thought Megumi only had a sister, though”

It comes out in a mumble, and he’s sure that she’s talking to herself in her deluded state, but the rush of heat that floods his chest and shoots up his neck is nearly too much to bear.

She actually didn’t recognize him this whole time? Was she talking about him this whole time? Was the flattery not a drug-induced misconception and actually-?

Before he can settle on a question to ask her to clear his confusion, she’s settling back into her pillow and her eyes are falling shut.  Megumi opens his mouth, ready to force out the first thing that comes to mind, but she drifts off almost immediately.  Her chest rising and falling in slow, steady movements.

It felt like a cruel prank.

Now he was left sitting and gaping at her unconscious form.  His heart is racing and his leg is bouncing again, and Megumi thinks he might be even more anxious for her to wake up this time.

He decides then and there that when she does, and when she’s of sound mind again, he’ll ask her about it.  Because if she really did have a crush on him he’d have to finally get over his ridiculous anxiety and make a move. ___

A week after making a full recovery, (y/n) comes to the decision that if she wants Megumi to talk to her, she’ll just have to corner him.

She’s not sure why he hasn’t been talking to her- hence her cornering plan- but ever since her last assignment had gone awry and she’d been put on a minor hold, he’d been dodging her.  And sure, Megumi wasn’t always the most sociable guy, but he was a friend and even if he didn’t feel like hanging out, he wouldn’t completely ghost her like this.

Of course she’d tried asking Yuji and Nobara about it, but they were a dead end.  They’d been just as surprised as she was that he’d been avoiding her.

I thought you were best friends, Yuji had frowned at the idea of a falling out between his two friends that he cared about so much.

Maybe he realized you have a crush on him and pussied out, Nobara had cackled at the scenario, not feeling an ounce of worry that this weird bump wouldn’t get resolved.

Needless to say, (y/n) was quick to steer her investigation far away from them, before the blabbermouths could do what they do best and blab around the wrong people.

She corners him while doing laundry, of all things.

“Hey,” 

And when she walks into the room while he’s tossing his freshly washed laundry into the dryer, Megumi hits his head on the lid when he swivels around in shock to see her there.

“Oh god, are you alright?” 

“I’m fine- it’s fine,” He answers all too quickly, before she’s even finished her question.  “I’m almost done with the washing machine” 

(y/n) can’t help but chuckle a little bit, seeing as she wasn’t currently holding a basket of laundry, but Megumi’s already back to filling up the dryer.  It appears every piece of clothing he tosses in is monochrome- mostly black, but a few gray pieces here and there.  This shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it is a bit funny.

“I actually was looking for you,” She tells him, leaning against the doorframe.  It’s half casual, and half to block his only escape.  Megumi responds with a small hum, still putting all of his focus on moving the laundry.  “Are you upset with me?” 

The question has him swiveling again, finally giving her his undivided attention.  It’s a bit unnerving, the way he straightens up and goes rigid as he stares back at her in bewilderment.  She wants to be annoyed that he has the audacity to look confused when he was the one that had been avoiding her for days, but she gives him the benefit of the doubt 

“Upset? No.  No of course not” He answers, and his words are so certain, that she believes him straight away.  But the small bit of truth doesn’t provide much relief.

“Then how come you’ve been dodging me?” She asks, unable to help her frown.  What other reason could there be? If he’s not mad at something, why would act so flaky?

“I haven’t been dodging you” 

“That’s a lie” 

“It’s not?” 

“It is,” She crosses her arms defensively.  “You haven’t been answering your phone and you always have some excuse to not talk to me.  Did I do something?” 

“Not really” 

He winces as soon as the answer leaves his mouth.  It wasn’t like him to get so careless- but it also wasn’t like him to avoid her.  Really, he was falling apart at the seams and trying quite desperately to appear as though everything was normal.  

It wasn’t working.  (y/n) could see the panic in his eyes as clear as day.  Not to mention the way his lips twitched like he was holding back further explanation.  She narrows her eyes as she studies him carefully.

“Not really?” She repeats his lame answer.  “So sort of? So I did do something?” 

Megumi’s certain that she chose to stand in the doorway so he couldn’t make an easy escape.  Would it be immature to summon the rabbits? 

“(y/n) it’s- it’s fine.  It’s me, alright?” He’s not very convincing.

“So you did something?” Another question he doesn’t want to answer.

“No- just- not really- it was just-” He stammers, and then groans, tilting his head back and glaring at the fluorescent light hanging over him.  

He recalls the way he’d sworn to himself that he’d talk to her about her little anesthesia-induced confession, and kicks himself now for cowering out of it.  Megumi never really ran away from a challenge, even when he knew he was in over his head.  But something about standing before her now and explaining how she’d inadvertently confessed to having a crush on him makes his heart beat out of sync and his throat go dry.

“Look I just don’t want things to be weird between us,” (y/n) sighs, giving up on interrogating him so heavily.  “So just… whatever it is, can we talk about it?” 

And he swoons, actually swoons.  His knees physically feel weak and he has to resist the urge to let all of his muscles relax and sink towards the ground.  It was so sweet, so considerate of her to want to mend the nonexistent conflict between them.  Megumi didn’t think it was possible to like her more than he already did, but she had a knack for proving him wrong.

So with an anxious breath, he thinks screw it and just lets it out.

“Do you remember waking up and talking to me in the infirmary?”

Her brows furrow, giving him her answer, and then her features soften with realization.

“You visited me in the infirmary?” She asks, almost in a whisper.  No, she didn’t remember, and no one had told her she’d had any visitors during her short stay there.

Megumi nods his head.

“Yeah, I… I stayed till you woke up.  And you did, for a couple minutes anyways, but you were pretty out of it.  Anesthesia and all” He explains.

She tries to rack her memory for any hazy glimpse of talking to Megumi in Shoko’s clinic, but nothing comes to mind.  She feels a little guilty now, having forgotten so easily.

“Okay…” She trails off, waiting for the rest of his explanation.  “So… something happened then?” 

Megumi hesitates, his expression twisted in mild displeasure, like he just stubbed his toe or has to deliver an oral presentation.  (y/n) tries to be patient, she really does, but the longer he draws this out the larger the pit in her stomach grows.

“Yeah,” The word comes out through a heavy breath, and he pauses for just a moment longer before admitting the last detail.  “You… you sort of confessed that you have a crush on me” 

“Oh,” 

Relief settles into her bones, and then a spike of panic.

“Oh” 

Her eyes are widening and her arms wrap tighter around herself, fingers digging into the sides of her ribs as if she could possibly ground herself with her anxiety reaching an all time high.

For fuck’s sake, she wasn’t this anxious when that Grade One tried to take a massive bite out of her body.

“You were really out of it, though,” Megumi says quickly.  “You were just… high.  You probably just couldn’t see or think straight-” 

“No, I wasn’t just high,” She cuts him off with surprising calmness in her voice, and a short shake of her head.  “I do.  Have a crush on you, I mean.  I didn’t… obviously I didn’t intend to tell you that, but, I guess high-me can’t keep a secret, so…” 

She trails off with a bashful giggle that would have embarrassed her if she wasn’t already filled to the brim with embarrassment.  Megumi’s lips part, but he doesn’t say anything.  The corner of his mouth twitches a few times too, and still, he’s standing in bewildered silence before her.

It’s not that he didn’t believe her, he was eighty-five percent sure that she’d meant what she said while she was still under the influence of the anesthetics, but that fifteen percent of uncertainty was his paranoia getting the best of him.  But now she was of sound mind, dead sober, and dead serious as she stared at him and awaited some sort of reaction.

No real reaction came, unless you counted the drumming of his fingers against his side, slow at first, but picking up speed the longer they both stood there and waited for the other to say something.

Megumi knows he should say something, and probably something along the lines of; well that’s a relief because I’m actually crushing on you so hard I don’t know what to do with myself… but unfortunately, he really didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Do I even want to know how badly I embarrassed myself?” (y/n) breaks the silence with a nervous but curious smile.

“You said I looked just like your crush,” He explained, heat flooding to his face as he recalled the other things she said.  “It was actually the first thing you said when you woke up,” 

She has to laugh at that a little, to which Megumi feels some of the tension in his shoulders disappear.  The tension in the room also starts to thin out, much to his relief.

“Then you went on about how cute your crush was.  And when I tried to ask how you were feeling, after, you know, surgery and all that, you ignored me and said…” He rubs the back of his neck, growing shy as he realized he was rambling and the subject matter already had his heart racing.

“Oh god… what?” (y/n) gasps, eyes widening, hoping she didn’t let out some dirty thought that she worked very hard to keep in the back of her mind.

“You said I had pretty eyes, and then you sorta let it slip that I was your crush, so I guess you didn’t realize you were talking to me the whole time… and then you passed back out” 

She’s laughing again, but this time she covers her face with her hands in a pitiful attempt to hide her blush until it goes away.  A small groan dies at the back of her throat.  The second hand embarrassment from her past-inebriated-self was just too much.

After all this time she's done so well at keeping her feelings under wraps, of never letting it be known with a slip of tongue or lingering touch, only to tell him so brazenly while in a hospital cot… it was ridiculous.

“God… I’m so sorry, that’s… wow, that’s probably the most humiliating thing I’ve ever done” She starts off looking at him, but ends up muttering to herself and looks away, still overwhelmed by the mortification of it all.

A small smile graces Megumi’s face, and in a moment of being true to his word, he musters up the courage to speak up before she could walk away and pretend this didn’t happen.

“It was more cute than humiliating,” He tells her, and she peeks back up at him in soft surprise.  “Maybe just a little embarrassing, just a little… but… still cute” His voice gets softer the longer she looks at him and he starts to lose the confidence he started out so strong with, but he still holds her gaze, hoping that she’ll know he means it.

“Cute?” She repeats in quiet disbelief.  Megumi nods back at her with absolute certainty and sincerity.

He gives into another bout of a confidence boost and takes a few steps forward, closing some of the space between them.  (y/n) practically scrambles to straighten up away from the doorframe, her shoulders squaring and her eyes widening as she watches him move towards her.

“And for what it’s worth, I think you have pretty eyes, too,” 

It’s quieter than he intends, but his words are effective in replacing the nervous tension in the room with something much more palpable.  The electricity buzzing between them was so thick they were practically choking on it.

(y/n) smiles, slow at first, processing the sudden compliment, and then all once.  Every inch of her skin warmed from the sweet words, and she’s not sure she’s ever felt flattery like this before.  She’s never taken a compliment so to heart, never known that she was going to go to sleep that night playing it over and over in her head.

Megumi’s eyes flicker between hers for a moment, admiring the way she lights up with delight before him, and then he opens his mouth again.

“They look just like my crush’s” 

Her brows furrow and despite that feeling of embarrassment spiking in her chest again, the corner of her lips curl into a smirk that gives into a smile almost immediately after.  Megumi’s clearly amused by this reaction, laughing to himself like he was so proud of his own tease.

“That’s so corny” She mutters, before stepping away from the doorway and closing the last bit of distance between them.

Despite his nerves he anticipates her movements, large hands finding purchase on her hips and practically yanking her the rest of the way that it takes to have her body against his.  There’s no extra time for words before their lips crash fast.  The kiss is surprisingly tender for how rushed their movements were, but it had them both melting into the other right away.

Her hands are gentle as they smooth over his shoulders before wrapping lightly at the nape of his neck.  Her fingers poke into the dark strands of hair that hang there, and when she curls a few locks between her index and middle finger, he presses his lips against hers with a little more fervor.

Even once they part from one another, neither one goes very far.  Gasping for air with lips still brushing each other’s, noses bumping, and hands still holding on tight all in the name of not putting an inch of distance between them.

Still no words are exchanged as they share a look before both glancing at the open doorway behind them.  It doesn’t take verbal communication for Megumi to reach behind her to grab the door by the handle and swing it shut.  The only sound that fills the room is the white noise buzzing from the dryer cycle, and the soft giggle that’s immediately suppressed by warm, inviting lips pressing against hers again.

___

a/n: thank u again my amazing nanami flowershop anon for this really fun idea. also i just love playful megumi. he's so cute n shy &lt;3

xoxo ~ jordie

[hexlenx]

I'D PICK HER OVER ME — james fleamont potter

note: I do not own any of the characters in harry Potter except for the plot in this small fic. This is purely made for entertainment purposes as well as cuz I am craving for some angst.

warnings!: mentions of death, angst

__________________

James was tired, he really was.

Being a single father was hard, plus being an auror for the ministry. His schedule from his work as well as being a father at the same time was harder than the war that had just ended four years ago.

James sighed in exhaustion as he covered his eyes with his arm while laying on his bed. He had just came back from a meeting in the ministry that ended two hours ago. The meeting ended very late and he hadn't had the time to rest until earlier before waking up in cold sweat.

James had nightmares. It was always the same.

Getting paralyzed by a spell, watching his wife get killed by a dark curse, his son almost dying but some miracle happened and the curse thrown at him was rebounded towards the killer, and repeat. All the same thing, every night.

So James did the only thing that helped him everytime it happened. Sitting up as he groaned, he began to stand up to walk towards downstairs and to the kitchen. Arriving at the location, he began to brew tea. Normally when he was still in his adolescence, he would drink firewhiskey to cope with the war, but now he settled for tea that he added a teaspoon of honey to cope with his loss.

It was what his wife always had whenever she was stressed, tea with a bit of honey. Something he never understood why that preference until now.

"Papa?" A timid voice of a young boy called out to James making him snap out of his daze.

"Yes, Harry?" James said to his son. Harry was a four year old boy, unruly brown hair like his father, circular black glasses on his face because of the poor eyesight he gained from his father. He was practically the carbon copy of James Potter but the only thing different is his son's eyes. It was his mother's, the only woman James had ever loved.

"Where's Mama?" Harry questioned. The air stilled but the small child was oblivious of it. It was a very sensitive topic but it is not a taboo. With sharp intake of breath, James knelt down to his son's height, putting his hand on his shoulder as he fixed his gaze on Harry's.

"Your mother." James started as he paused for a moment to think of a sentence to explain why his mother is gone. "Is in a far away land, at the moment."

"But why so far?"

"Because, Harry, she is trying to protect us from something and she needs to go away for a while." That's it, James. The father encouraged himself. He's still young, tell him when he is old enough. He continued these thoughts as he looked at his son's thoughtful expression.

"Will she come back?"

Silence. There was no answer to that question as James embraced his son in his arms, brows furrowed as tears were threatening to fall from its sockets. The truth was, his mother was not gonna come back but how could he tell that to his four year old son?

Finally having set his son to bed, James took one last glance to Harry before going downstairs to sit on the couch of the living room. The honey-tea has long gone cold as he sat in front of the fire that was slowly dwindling. James stared blankly at it as his thoughts were loud but at the same time quiet.

If only you were here.

"If I could pick on who would survive that day, I would've picked you." James muttered to himself out loud, quietly sniffling his tears that slowly fell on his cheeks to his hands.

"Because you would've known what to do.."

The crying of a baby echoed through the house in Godric's Hollow. The scene showed a master bedroom, two bumps could be seen under sheets of the bed. As the cry continued, one of the figures moved.

"Fuck.."

A deep male's voice cursed out as he sat up, not being able to fall asleep now because of the noise. Another voice moaned out from being awaken from the movement of the man.

"I'll take care of him, love. Just continue sleeping." The man coaxed to his wife beside him who blinked at him to ask if he's sure.

"You sure?"

"Yea, you sleep and I'll tend, yea?" With that, the woman went back to her dreams as the man carefully unravels himself from the sheets before walking out the bedroom to the nursery.

"Shh, it's okay, Harry. I got you, bud." He said the moment he took Harry from the crib and coaxed him in his arms. The man was James Potter, the leader of the band of misfits, Marauders is now a father. The one thing he never knew he would be with the war going on.

Harry, the baby, now stopped his fussing and opened his eyes that he got from his mother to stare at his father. Smiling widely, he giggled and tried to reach for James' hair.

"Hey now, not the hair you little twit."

"Do not curse at our child, James Fleamont Potter." A stern melodic voice spoke out from behind the father who flinched as James chuckled sheepishly.

"I'm not...." James trailed off as he looked everywhere but his wife, who rolled her eyes.

"I swear, I can't leave you alone for one second with Harry." You scolded your husband with a slight slap on his arm making him grin at you.

"You love me!" James teased to which you rolled your eyes again.

"Unfortunately." You said while grabbing Harry out of his hands and propping him up on your hip.

"What is that supposed to mean?!"

James leaned against the door frame of the kitchen as he wore a pink apron with a giant cute teddy bear printed on its front, courtesy of Sirius saying it was to look husband material and James agreeing to it because he was told it was husband material, he was listening to you humming a small song to Harry as you kept him occupied by holding up a toy on your son's face.

James was cooking up lunch because he wanted you to rest and let him handle household chores while you occupy your son. It was the least he could do for you as the war lead both of you into hiding your son from the Dark Lord because of a prophecy. He knew you wanted to spend more time with Harry before the worse happens, so he did all the chores while you spend your time with your child, even after so many of your refusals.

James smiled in content as well as fondness as he watched the both of you. How could he have such a wonderful family with how arrogant and stupid he was when he was a teen. He didn't think he deserved such thing after being such a prejudice prick towards Slytherins.

"Take Harry and run!" James yelled out to you as he tried to push the Dark Lord back even if it was just for a delay. He couldn't let him get to both of you, you're all that he had left.

Successfully stunning the Dark Lord, James then ran upstairs to be with you and Harry. It was the only thing he could do to help you run away before the Dark Lord catches up. Unfortunately, James underestimated the Dark Lord's recovery from a stunning hex. The moment James arrived at the doorframe of the nursery of where you were, he fell paralyzed by the spell the Dark Lord had thrown at him.

"No.." James mumbled as his eyes went wide in horror. He kept chanting the word like a mantra as he helplessly watched the scene in front of him. His mumbles becoming screams as he sobbed heavily. Sweat dripped from his forehead as his face turned red, eyes squinting, brows furrowing hard as tears kept flowing down like a waterfall from his reddening eyes.

No...not my family..

Not the one I just built..

Please don't do this to me..

A green light blinded the whole room as a loud thump echoed the room. Silence overlapped as the Dark Lord grinned viciously. James' brown eyes stilled as he watched the limped lifeless body of the woman he was proud to say was his, the love of his life, the mother of his son, his wife, you.

James was not spared from tragedy as he now watched his son getting cursed by the Dark Lord before he stared in disbelief as the curse rebounded and hit the one who casted it. Watching as a lightning bolt of a cut appeared on his son's forehead.

But the moment he was free from his trap, he screamed in agony, not from his wounds, but from the death of his love.

"Now, Harry. If I could choose on who would've lived between me and your mother." James said to his son who was now in his teen, sixteen, as they stood in front of a gravestone. A familiar name etched in the stone.

[ Your Name ] Potter

[ Birthdate ] — October 31st, 1981

"In loving memory of a great friend, sister, mother, and wife."

"I'd pick her over me."

"Why?"

"Because, she would've known what to do."

[mysicklove]

𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄

DAY 10: SOMINOPHILIA

With: Levi Ackerman

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: gn! reader, sub! levi, nightmares + insomnia mentioned, oral (m! receiving), handjob in dreams, implied age gap, set in around season 2 timeline? im kinda forgetting which season erwin was in... kissing..lots of kissing, reader being puppy coded and levi is sick in love

A/N: sorry this is late!!!! i hope this also isnt too confusing considering it switches back and forth between his dream and irl. idk. also title is named after a song by The Mamas and The Papas that i LOVEEEE

Levi Ackerman finds himself plagued with nightmares. It was always like that though, since he could remember at least. Three to four nights a week he awakes in the middle of night dripping with sweat with his heart nearly beating out of his chest. He has grown used to the lack of sleep by now, it barely bugs him anymore.

That is, until he found someone to share his bed with. 

You were his light, as dramatic and sappy as it sounds, and something he will never admit out loud. But it was true, finally in this dim world he finds himself in, you came crashing in, brighter than the sun. He had fallen for you in record time, and you, drawn to his stoic and feisty aura, came tumbling down after him.

It's been a year now since you've gotten together, and Levi swears the nightmares are getting less frequent. 

Well, at least in the nights where you lay beside him. The nights where you hold him, and he has easier access to your heartbeat. The steady rhythm of your chest rising and falling. Alive.

He doesn't go into too much depth about the nightmares, but you know the general scene of them, usually relating back to his comrades deaths. He has mentioned that the recent ones involve you, and it makes your heart crumble for your beloved each time his voice cracks through the explanation. You don’t press too much on the matter – the nights he wakes up in a cold sweat, you are there to ease him back to sleep, reassuring that you and he are safe. He almost gets a full night of sleep with you around.

But alas, you aren’t all sunshine and rainbows, and neither is he. Nope, you happen to be one of the most erotic people have ever met (though, he hasn’t met many). A sick brat is what he calls you, or sometimes a disgusting pervert, if he’s feeling extra grumpy. The nicknames fly past your head, as you pepper his face with kisses. It was all in good spirit, is what you remind yourself at least. 

“Soooo, Hange recommended–”

“No.”

You pout at the man, pulling away from his chest to glare at him. “You didnt even let me finish my sentence.”

His cold face doesnt let up, even if his eyes hold a playful light to them. “I am smart enough to recognize that anything having to do with Hange is a bad idea.”

You playfully hit his chest, and the man raises his eyebrows at you. A smile pulls at your lips, and Levi cant help but stare whimsically at you. It was unfair, really. “Fine, get on with it, brat.”

“How would you feel if I woke you up with a blow job?” His reaction is immediate, first shock, and then as a couple seconds go by he seems to be much more inclined to agree, but then finally settles on an scowl.

“Why were you talking to Hange about these things?”

You cock your head to the side, tapping on your chin. “Well, I mentioned that your nightmares have started again, and they told me that oral sex helps stop them. Something neurologically with your dick and brain? I don't know.”

He stares at you for a couple of seconds, bewildered at your explanation. But, he realizes quickly what is up, and he immediately pinches the bridge of his nose with a long sigh. “They are fucking with you, idiot. Just trying to get me laid. Hange has always been like that.”

Your face falls at the words, and Levi swears you managed to master the kicked puppy look. He grabs your hands and pulls you back onto his chest, rolling his eyes when you hum into his skin. The warmth brought him comfort, and he finds himself more at peace. “I mean…It won't help with the nightmares, but who would turn down waking up to a blowjob?” Levi mumbles into your hair, while rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

You twist to look up at him, the familiar grin back on your face. “Yeah?”

He scoffs at you, an embaressed blush coating his cheeks. “Just dont wake me up early, alright. Just gonna piss me off.”

He swears he can see you wagging a tail. “Of course, Captain!”

Two weeks have gone by, and Levi has not woken up to your face anywhere near his dick. He has awoke to kisses along his cheeks, and neck, but that wasnt new, you were always disgustingly affectionate in your half awake state. He holds a content (half) smile for about ten seconds as he shuts the door of your room, only for it to drop when he sees Hange.

He wasnt the one to complain though, maybe you were just teasing him. You always did like to press his buttons. He wasn't going to give you the satisfaction of knowing he wants it. So, the dark haired man continues on, nightmares and all, through the weeks.

By the time a month came passing by, he knows that you forgot all about your stupid little promise – your stupid naive words that only worked to piss him off. He glared at you from across the halls for a whole week – never daring to actually show you real signs that he was upset. But after you accidentally caught him frowning at you from across the training grounds, he was immediately dragged back your shared rooms, and fucked lovingly, as you apolgized for everything you could think of that would piss the man off.

You didnt mention the blowjob, but Levi was content with the disheveled hair, and the hickeys and bite marks littering his body, so he forgives you. 

He forgets about the blowjob after two months. You were more horny than usual, so the two of you were at it multiple times a week. He would end up too exhausted to hold any real dreams, including his nightmares.

Levi was okay with it.

9 am. Levi, for the first time ever, was oversleeping. Of course when you woke up at 8 am, on your day off from training, and found your lover by your side, you couldnt help but be shocked. He was usually gone by 5 am to get to training. 

But you heard him woke up multiple times in the middle of the night. The nightmares were back. His shaky hands wrapped around you, and he panted into your neck, trembling like you've never seen before. You don't know what triggered it, but Levi seemed to have a really bad night. 

He deserves to sleep in. So, at fifteen past 8, you scamper to Erwins office and beg the commander for Levi to have a day off. He always did have a soft spot for you. For one, you brought happiness to humanities strongest, and also because his friend silently threatened him death if he was to mistreat you. Erwin agreed without much hesitation. 

You crawl into bed next to your lover, and begin to trace his content face. At least the nightmares were gone for the night.

Then, the realization hits you. This was the perfect time for you to finally do as promised.

You waited months because you wanted Levi to forget about your words. Of course, you assumed he forgot them after a couple of days, paying no attention to your promise, but you waited it out just in case. 

And now, the both of you dont have any plans today. A once in a lifetime experience, it has got to be.

So with one more glance at your lover, you kiss his cheek, hold back a small giggle, and slowly remove the blanket from his lap. Then, you slide yourself down on the bed, and carefully manevuer yourself in between his legs. He doesnt sleep with much attire, growing hot in the night. Plus with the addition of the cold sweat he often finds himself in, he learns that going next to bare was easier. 

You pull down his boxers, and are immediately exposed to a dark patch of hair. It's trimmed properly, but he prefers to have a little hair down their over being completely shaven. Something on the lines of protecting his dick from germs or whatnot. You dont listen to the details, only thinking about how hot it is.

The boxers make it past his thighs, and you glance back up at the man. He doesn't even seem to flinch when the cool air comes into contact with his skin. He snoozes peacefully into the pillow, his dark hair covering his eyes. 

His dick lays limp against his leg, and you pick it up slowly, careful to not wake him up. You run your fingers over it a couple of times, and then, holding the back of it with your fingers to support it, you run your tongue from bottom to top of the length. 

Levi doesn't move. You take that as a sigh to continue. 

Another stripe of the tongue, and then two more, and nothing happens. You grow bolder by the moment. You place his still soft cock into your mouth, and this time you do hear a reaction. Its a quiet sigh, but it was something. His eyes still remain shut.

Slowly, you begin to suckle on the tip, finding it easier to fit it in your mouth while soft. Your tongue roams the shaft, and you press sloppy, wet kisses to his veins. Blood rushes to his cock unconsciously, and Levi still has not stirred, even with his cock now hard. You chuckle with amusement, but dont stop your movements, now dragging your hands along his thighs to appreciate his body.

Levi was having a good dream. It wasnt like the past couple of nightmares, no, this one seemed to have a light hue. It was just the two of you, laying with your backs against grass. A open field, far away from everyone, and not a threat in sight. Titans were gone.

A peaceful world for the two of you. A world Levi craved. 

His hands trace your face, and he stares at you, admiring every crease and divot of your skin. You slide your way over toward him, leaning forward to kiss him. “I love you.”

He hums, eyes falling shut, as he wraps his arms around your body. “Yeah, yeah. Love ya too, brat.”

You giggle at him, and suddenly the smile on your face shifts. It turns soft, the tips of your mouth curling up in an almost feline way, while you eyes become hooded. He watches you lean forward and press your lips to his. The man doesnt stop you, gently kissing you back while your tongue slips into his mouth. Levi gulps when your hands trace down to his pants, and he quickly looks around the meadow, afraid to discover an unwelcomed guest. Of course there was nobody, it was a dream, not a nightmare. Your hand slips into his pants, and Levi’s back arches in the grass.

He twitches in his sleep and you smile fondly at the man. The tip of his cock rest against your cheek, as you admire him for a second too long, only to be rewarded with jolt of his hips from the source unknown, sending it slapping across your face. You hold back a laugh, and then grab at it again, mumbling out a, “Even a brat in your sleep, huh Captain?” 

You lean forward and wrap your lips around him again.

“D-Don't stop!” Levi groans out, hands clutching at your shirt while he squeezes his eyes shut. It doesn't stop the sun from getting past his eyelids, so he moves closer to you to hopefully block it out. You press your lips to his neck, nibbling at the space just beneath his ears.

“Would never,” You purr, and the man glances at your hand. His pants are pulled down completely now, and your pace was rutheless in its up and down motions. It sends him shivering, and covering his face with the back of his arm. He breathes through clenched teeth, and tries his best not to let out a whimper. The man hears your giggle, and before he could stop himself, the whine slips out.

The first noise of the morning was a low whimper. Not much, but definitely there, and unbelievably cute. You grip at his hips and try to take him deeper, but his hips thrusts back into your mouth with another paired whine. Your eyes widen, and you gag out at the unexpected movement, having to pull away to catch your breath. His dark hair whips back and forth, and he continues to make low mewling noises. “Huh, and you call me the pervert. What are you dreaming about, pretty?”

Levi moans into your mouth, wrapping his arms around your neck. His hips buck up into your hands, and you playfully bite his lip, earning a dramatic grunt in complaint. He grips your hair and pulls you back to his lips before you try and let out another teasing remark. Precum leaks onto your hand, and he swears that it provides more of the makeshift lube then usual. Your hand feels better than normal, strangely damp, and so warm. Did handjobs always feel this good?

He can feel his high approaching and his breaths come out quicker. “Gonna..cum. Fuck!”

You detach yourself from his lips. “No, no, no! Not yet!” You tease, voice light and almost giggly. It wasn't the first time you denied him of his release, but it was rare. You always di did pamper him. 

The man scowls at you, borderline on the cusp of baring his teeth. “Why?” He demands, short and simple, but shows exactly how peeved he is. Levi is more than surprised to feel that you didn't squeeze his cock in warning. No, still the warm, tight feeling, that does not make any sense to him.

“Can you do something for me first?”

A demand from you? Unheard of. “Get on with it, I-Im close”

Your hand movements become louder and louder, and it shouldn't sound like that. It's so lewd, and the squelching noise are never that loud. 

You press you lips to his ear, and a shiver runs down his spine at your breath, which is strangely cooler than usual. “Wake up, Captain.”

His eyes snap open immediately and he pants into the dark room. Levi hears it first, before he feels it. A loud slurping sort of noise, and the man feels his cock trapped between something warm, wet. 

A throat. Not a hand. 

He is quick to manevour himself to hold his weight on his elbows, and glances down at you, breaths coming out shallow and quick. You smile when you catch his eye, and for a second you pull away from him. You pepper his length down with kisses. “Well, well, good morning, sleepy head,” You mumble, letting another swipe of your tongue graze his thick blue vein. Then, with little hesitation, you dive back onto his cock, taking it as far as you can into your mouth.

“What are you–Fuck!” His legs instinctually bend outward, and his back arches. His head was still foggy in his half sleepen state. Was that all a dream? Was this real? He grips onto your hair, and does his best not to force you deeper onto his cock.

Levi could feel his orgasm approaching and rapidly, same as the dream. But this time it was real, and by god did it feel that way. His hips buck into your mouth and he lets out loud moans, tucking his face into the pillow to try and muffle them. 

He tries to ask for permission again to cum again, hoping that this time real you wouldnt lead him on. It comes out more as a command, but you just roll your eyes with a smile, the giggle in the back of your throat sending him spiral. 

“Cumming. Oh god. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He chants, and your eyes widen in shock, but you don't pull away from his cock. He was never the one to be polite in bed, the little brat was always barking commands and half hearted complaints. He must be really enjoying this treat if he was to thank you.

You dont have time to dwell on it much, because he forces your head lower onto his cock and cums into your mouth. You wince at the taste, but bear no mind to it as you watch your lover unravel. His back still continues to arch (which you will never get over) while his eyes are shut. The noises he lets out are soft, more of a mewl and a groan, but adorable nonetheless. His whole body trembles and his legs lay out wide, shaking under the force of the orgasm.

You pull away when he is done, and wipe your lips with the back of your hand. “Taste perfect as usual. Always so good on your diet!”

He rolls his eye at you, but it doesn't hold much bite considering that the man seemed to be basking in the post orgasm glow. “You are gross. I know that shit tastes bad.”

“Nope! Anything that the Captian makes is amazing”

He throws a pillow at your face, and you pout at him, a dramatic whine slipping past your lips. “Don't call me that, I am not even your Captain anymore, brat. And stop pouting!” He demands, pulling up his boxers before letting out a big stretch.

“Why are you so mean to me?” You complain, crawling forward to lay on his chest. “After I gave you head too!”

The frown does not drop from his face, but he does trace his fingers along your face. A silent token of affection that you purr into. “Took ya long enough. Thought you forgot about it.”

You fake hurt, taking in a dramatic breath. “Of course not! I would never lie to you.” The words are light, and holds a smile in them. “And hey, dont you think you are a little spoiled? Complaining that you got a blowjob too late.”

Levi doesnt even seem to react, his facial expression remaining neutral, and his words flat. “No ‘m not. Said thank you and everything.”

To this, you do nod, practically vibrating with affection to give. It was too hard to really be upset with him. “Super polite of you! I was so impressed!”

This does make him roll his eyes. “You really think low of me, huh?”

You poke at his cheek with a smile plastered on your face. “Aww cmon dont be dramatic again. You know I dont. Oh! Also, did it help with the nightmares?” You tease, knowing exactly what type of dream he really was having. “You sounded very….Scared in your dream.”

He seems to flush red, but alas, Levi was never the one to be on the losing foot. “....Yes. Seems like you are going to have to do this for me everyday. To stop the nightmares.”

You burst out laughing, and fail to see the small grin that creeps up the dark haired man's face.

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[capitanoidyll]

There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Chapter 7 | Kisses Erase Pain

Summary | You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

want to be a part of the taglist? then pls go to taglist ^-^

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Sunday mused to himself as he gently ran his fingers through your hair, then bending down to you, his lips gently brushed against your ear, “it’s time to wake up, dove.”

His soothing voice washed over you, your whole body felt all warm and cozy, it was like being enveloped into a comfortable embrace on a winter morning.

Opening your eyes, you found yourself staring up at what you believed was an angel. And judging by the wings sprouting from his head, you knew you weren’t too far off the mark.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered those words as you continued to look up at him. Your confession made him smile at you, his hand still running through your hair.

“Thank you, dove, but don’t you have any questions for me?”

You shook your head, “I know I’m dead… what is there to ask?”

“A second chance, perhaps?”

You froze at that before lifting yourself from his lap and turning to him while sitting on your knees, your eyes a bit hopeful, “like going back in time and starting over?!”

Sunday chuckled to himself for a moment before shaking his head, “I can’t send you back. Time isn’t what I am able to control. However, I am able to erase what all has happened to you. In other words, I can make it to where your death hasn’t even happened.”

You thought over his words for a moment, “so you can’t send me back, but you can erase it? To how far back can you go?”

“As far back as I want,” he said as he lifted his hand to caress your cheek, “I could even erase your very existence.”

He watched your face contort into one of fear being patting your cheek softly before letting his hand fall from your face, “but don’t worry, I would never do that to you.”

You steadied your breathing before asking your next question, “so… since I am seeing you now… does that mean you plan on erasing something?”

“You could say that,” Sunday mused, “I want to erase your death and all the way up to that little amnesia plan of yours.”

“Only that far?!”

He smiled at you, “I am an impatient man, I don’t want to erase too far back and wait to see what unfolds.”

“… Why are you doing this for me?”

“Because I want to see if you can win.”

“Win?”

“The emperor has no laws for himself, no weaknesses. You could change that.”

You could only shrug, “kind of hard to do that when I can’t fool him. Not to mention he has a few favorite maids he likes to entertain.”

Sunday reached for you and patted your head, “but remember dove, it was Blade’s protectiveness that gave you away. Manage to not let Blade or Dan Heng find out about you, then your life would be easier.”

“That reminds me, who was the man who had helped Jing Yuan anyway?”

“That was Moze. An assassin. Be careful around him too. Honestly though, I am surprised he wasn’t your first obstacle…”

You shook your head with a smile before standing up, Sunday joining you, “so I guess this means you will send me back now?”

“Of course,” he said while getting closer to you, his lips gently pressing to your forehead which immediately caused a glowing light to surround you.

“Wait- I never got your name,” you said as you started to disappear.

Sunday merely smiled, “I am sure I am mentioned in a few books here and there, find my name there, and if we meet again, tell me what you think my name is.”

That was the last thing he said, then that warmth was gone, and you found yourself waking up in a cold sweat. Your breathing was hard, erratic. Looking around for a moment, you hastily got out of bed and went to your desk. On it sat a calendar.

“So,” you muttered to yourself, “I really am back to the day I decided to try and get amnesia…, and how did he explain it? He couldn’t control time, so he didn’t send me back. No, instead he said it was more like he was erasing the events that had happened… but what sort of being could possibly do that? No god in any religion I have heard of have ever been able to do that… Maybe I should go to the library today and see if I can figure out anything that way.”

Nodding to yourself, you went to your closet to fish out some decent clothes to wear (a dress that was easy to move around in since you didn’t plan to enact any more plans for the time being). And just as you made it to the door and opened it, you paused.

“Oh… hello, Blade.”

A part of you still couldn’t believe that that mysterious man erased the events that had happened, so there was only one thing to test out that theory. And that was talking to Blade, of course. Ever since you came here Blade has been like your shadow. Not once has he ever spoken to you or tried to speak. And you didn’t bother to talk to him either as a sort of defiance of not talking to anyone. But it was all too clear to you now that even if you don’t talk to anyone, the Emperor wouldn’t care.

Blade looked down at you, his gaze hardening as he glared at you, but he offered no greeting in return.

Well fine, be an ass, you thought begrudgingly as you turned on your heel and headed in the direction of the library. Blade already following you, hot on your heel as a shadow would be.

The library wasn’t hard to find, but it was a pain to get there due to how far it was from your room. But whatever, you were here now.

“Now, if I was a deity that can erase events… what book would I be in?”

You said those words quietly enough so Blade wouldn’t hear. Glancing behind you, you noticed how he stayed near the door, completely uninterested in what you were doing. Perfect.

So, you got to work.

You passed by multiple genres of books but eventually settled on a few pertaining to religion, history, a few fictional since they had titles and descriptions correlating with your situation, and even a few books that described creatures that looked a lot like the man you met.

Rolling a small cart, you brought it over to a couch and plopped down.

“Now, let’s see what I can find!”

Six hours later and you thought you were going to pass away. The fictional books were entertaining and served as good breaks, but they didn’t help you in the slightest of mentioning who could erase events that had happened!

It felt like you were about to rip your hair out! Sighing heavily and closing the current book you had in your lap; you went to get up and return the books all to their rightful place. You originally thought of leaving them out and letting someone else put them back, but you didn’t want a surprise visit from the emperor who would start asking about your sudden interest in historical and religious themes.

Once done putting them back, you settled for grabbing a single book to read. It was a fairy tale where a princess is saved by a prince. Sitting back down on the couch, you lay back and grinned at the title. Despite being a princess… you doubted any prince would dare to come save you.

Though, as soon as you opened the book and started reading once again, your eyes started to grow heavy and before too long, you fell asleep. Your breathing evened out and the book was held tightly against your chest as you curled up on your side. A small smile on your face.

Though, not too long after you fell asleep, the Emperor was walking by the room, “Blade? It’s uncommon to see you guarding the library,” Jing Yuan mused at the guard.

Blade huffed and jutted his head towards the open door, “the princess decided to read today.”

Jing Yuan hummed to the information and walked in, his eyes scanned the room for a moment before landing on your sleeping figure.

“Seems to me like she is sleeping more than she is reading.”

Blade came to stand next to the Emperor, arms crossed over his chest, “she was in here all the day.”

“That so?”

Blade nodded wordlessly as Jing Yuan walked over to your sleeping figure. His body knelt next to you, looking over you, he then noticed the book that was in your arms. Plucking the book from your grasp, he looked over the title.

“Foolish girl,” Jing Yuan mused as noticed how the book entailed a princess being saved by a prince.

“She wouldn’t be foolish if you just treated like an actual fiancé.”

“Its not everyday that I hear you defending my rewards from conquest.”

Blade shrugged, “I am only stating the obvious. Furthermore… I am bored of following her around.”

Jing Yuan let out a laugh as he stood back up, “then introduce her to other things that the castle has to offer. I’m sure even you can handle that task since you are so bored.”

Blade bowed slightly as Jing Yuan decided to take his leave.

“Of course, Emperor.”

And when he was gone, Blade looked back to you, his glare still present on his face.

taglist pt 1

@danae-misfortune @frogsasfrogs @openthenyoor01 @zuhaine @ughlostmyotherac @joyfulnightprincess @thechibifoxcub @ceaether @satanisasofties @thetwinkims @yanrandom @honeybunbunn @superdonkeypatroleggs @ohmyfinggod @baboon-milk333 @zareri @kclremin @rains-mae @yccoffeesimp @bloomiesty @moon-taffy @superdark-soul @pinkismyfavcolor @isa-l0v3r @its-astrotea-love @reapersan @junephantom21 @erisfayred @greyrain23 @justadekusimp @uzxotic @alisstaa @avalordream @unlivingdisaster @pix-stuff @sleepyxion14 @pillows-blankets @anicega @junni-berry @niaainthere @sorachitsuki @dyingsweetmackerel @rosariymchapter @immahuman @fluffy-koalala @momoniq @orphiclueur @insightedly

[tayraedoll]

Chivalry Is Alive and Well in Hell

Welcome to part 3 of Old Man!

Part 1 Part 2

TW: Swearing, fluff, mature themes

Word Count: 1,675

You feel your mind start to reach consciousness before your physical body. You feel like you are floating, time and space mean nothing in this zone. Slowly, the outside world begins to register to you, and it is less than fucking pleasant.

Your entire body hurt like hell- your skin feels like it is on fire, your joints feel like they were stretched in a medieval torture device, your throat was raw and dry, and it felt like you have not had any food for weeks. With an undignified groan you stretch out, wincing as your nerves shoot lighting bolts through your sore muscles. What the fuck happened to you? Were you hit by a train?

Suddenly, your memories wash over you and your eyes shoot open. Oh yea, Conductor Alastor was at the controls, and you rode that crazy train for 72.FUCKING.HOURS.

You look around, you were alone in bed; Alastor's side was cold letting you know he has been up for awhile. The bed itself was a disaster. The sheets were ripped and torn, the pieces chaotically strewn around the mattress. Both yourself and the bed were covered in sweat, blood, slick, and cum- the mixture dry and clinging to your skin uncomfortably. You bring an arm up to your face and take a whiff, recoiling immediately at the atrocious way you smelled and wrinkling your nose. Disgusting, a shower was definitely first on the agenda. But before that, where was the man responsible for this mess?

As if answering your unspoken question, Alastor suddenly appeared next to the bed. "Ah Darling, there you are! I was wondering how long you would sleep for", he gives you a wide grin. "How are you feeling Ma Biche?"

You take a moment to look him over, he was as pristine and put-together as ever. He was freshly showered, no bodily fluids covering him at all, his hair neatly styled, and his perfect, red suit pressed neatly over his form. Not a single trace of evidence of the last 3 days was anywhere to be found on him. Worse yet, his movements were as lithe and graceful as a panther's, no hint of any bodily soreness in his gait. It all left you feeling extremely self-conscious and rather inferior. You grab a scrap of a blanket and bring it up to your chest in an attempt to hide yourself and throw a glare at his perfect form. "Everything hurts, and I'm pretty sure I am dying." He wouldn't get the reference but you did not care, it fit your mood too well. "How long was I out for? You look...well.", you narrow your eyes at him.

He chuckles, his microphone playing an upbeat jazz tune, his whole demeanor was light-hearted. "You have been asleep for about 24 hours." Your jaw drops, "24 hours?! Why the fuck didn't you wake me up Al?!"

He reaches down and wraps his hand around your wrist, bringing it up to his lips to plant a tender kiss on the back of your hand. "You needed your rest Sha. Your first mating session took a lot out of you."

You look down, there was a tenderness in his eyes that tugged at your heart and you were not ready to not be annoyed with him. "And what about you?", you ask, subtly accusing him of leaving and making you wake up alone after all you two did together.

"I do not require the same amount of rest as you do. Additionally, I had to reassure our companions that we did not run off after our inexplicable absences the past few days. I do believe our resident fallen angel still thinks I have consumed you", he laughs at the last sentence. "Well, I suppose I have, just not in the way she is thinking", his eyes trail over your arms and throat, cataloging every scratch, hickey, and bite. Without warning, he swoops down and scoops you up into his arms.

"What are you doing?! Put me down!", you screech. Not only were you still a little annoyed with him, but you did not want him to smell you at the moment!

He just laughs, still in a good mood, and begins whistling as he enters his bathroom. He sets you down on the counter and gives you a curt "stay" command that you roll your eyes at- you are not a dog!- but you stay there anyways, fearing that your legs would buckle under you again if you tried to stand.

You watch as he collects things from various cupboards and drawers before turning to his huge bathtub. He turns the water on and dips various liquids into the tub as it filled. The warm steam felt amazing, the scents of lavender and eucalyptus reached your nose and you sighed. He finishes the bath off with a bright pink bath bomb, the fizzing sound it made so satisfying to your ears. Alastor then turns back to you, scooping you into his arms again before gently lowering you into the hot water. You wince and let out a hiss as the water makes every mark on your body sing momentarily. But you are soon able to relax and lean back, enjoying the sense of calm that envelops you. You close your eyes and let out a contented sigh.

You hear the rustle of fabric beside the tub and peep one eye open, seeing Alastor place his jacket neatly on the countertop you were just perched on. He rolls up the sleeves of his crimson dress shirt to his elbows and grabs a small pitcher before settling on the floor next to the tub. He places a hand on your shoulder and directs you to sit up slightly before placing a finger under your chin and tipping your head back. He dipped the pitcher into the water and poured it over your hair, using his free hand to run his fingers through it to make sure he wet every strand.

"What are you doing?", you asked as he lathered shampoo between his hands.

"Upholding my end of our deal My Doe," he explained as he scrubbed the shampoo over your head, carefully using his claws to scratch the base of your skull. Gentle jazz filled the room at a low volume, just barely loud enough to hear, furthering the relaxing ambiance.

When he began combing the conditioner through your hair you side-eyed him. "I do not remember bathing me being a part of our deal. I assure you I am perfectly capable of doing this myself Al."

"If I remember correctly, I said I would protect and love you with all I am. I am simply looking after your well-being, it is not an attack on your independence. I feel better when I can take care of you the way a man should take care of his lady. I believe we have had this conversation about men no longer being chivalrous before." He picked up a fresh sponge and began rubbing it in small circles down each arm, careful not to hurt your healing flesh. Then he gently turned you by your shoulders to face away from him as he ran the sponge down your back.

"I really think you are a rare breed. I doubt all the men from your time did this. They may have been chivalrous in public- but how many of them turned into completely different people behind closed doors alone with their wives? You are probably one of only a handful of men in history to act as servant to their partner." He turned you back around to face him, moving the sponge down you chest and abdomen, working his way down to your legs.

"Isn't that the foundation of love Darling? To provide for another's needs? To serve them?" When he was satisfied that you were clean he reached for a towel, beckoned you to step out of the tub as he pulled the drain, and wrapped you up burrito-style. It felt as if he had just taken the towel out of the dryer it was so warm. "I promise to treat you the way my mother would want me to treat you." Alastor said that last part so softly, you were sure you were not meant to hear it, the only reason you heard it was because of your ultra sensitive doe ears. He hardly ever spoke of his life, he would really only talk about his mother when he would cook you a dish she had taught him how to make. You hoped that this small admission would open the door to more intimate discussions about his past. For now, you would not press him.

You leaned up onto your tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Well, I am glad my old geezer has held onto his old-fashioned chivalry", you smirked up at him devilishly.

"Oh, we are reverting back to our ageist feud now are we Fawn?"

You gave him a shrug. "So, that was mating season huh? So what do we do the rest of the year until your refractory period ends?" you wink and laugh at your own joke.

Alastor's eyes flash menacingly, his smile turning more Cheshire before responding "Oh it's not over yet Little Doe."

Your own smile fell, "Er..what? But we did it, for the entire 72 hours!"

The demon buck stalked towards you, backing you up into the bathroom vanity, placing his hands on the counter on either side of you to cage you in against him. "You are but sated for now Darling. But does are polyestrous creatures. I suspect you will have at least one, if not two more heat cycles before the mating season is up."

Your eyes grew wide and you let out an incredulous laugh, whispering under your breath "Oh fuck me!"

Alastor let out a sinister laugh of his own, eyes turning to radio dials and antlers sprouting out from his head,"Trust me my doe, you will be. THOROUGHLY."

The end! Hope you enjoyed it!

@stattikdemon

@vxllys

@sirens-and-moonflowers

@lady-intellectual

@shealizxx

@cryssyd

[unfinishedslurs]

party king (steddie)

“You want me to what?”

“Go to a party with me,” Eddie says, looking at Steve like he’s the weirdo here. “What’s the big deal, King Steve? You’ve been to plenty of parties.”

“You know, no one actually called me that,” Steve tells him, abandoning his tapes to put his hands on his hips. “Billy started it. I think he just wanted people to call him a king.”

Eddie visibly considers this before nodding, like it makes sense. Which it does. Billy was, in Steve’s private thoughts, an egotistical maniac who needed to calm down.

May he rest in peace.

“But you’ll come to the party with me, right?”

“Give it up, Eddie,” Robin calls from where she’s rewinding tapes. “Steve hasn’t been to a party in forever. He’s basically a grandpa now.”

“Hey!” Steve objects. That’s rich, coming from her. Going to bed at nine some nights so he gets a few more hours of sleep before waking up in a cold sweat does not make him a grandpa. It just makes him traumatized  

“Steeeeeeeve,” Eddie whines, widening his eyes until it looks like they’re going to pop out of his sockets. His exaggerated pout isn't going to do him any favors either. No matter what the kids say behind his back (looking at you, Henderson) he isn't a pushover.

“Why would I want to go to a high school party?” He crosses his arms, leaning against the counter. “I graduated. I have better things to do with my time.”

“Like lose arcade games to freshmen?” Robin asks. He flips her the bird.

“Please, Steve?” Eddie asks. “Pretty please? Pretty pretty please, with cherries and whipped cream and six little nuggets on top?”

“What the hell are you even saying anymore?”

“You want him to eat his babies?” Robin shrieks. “Like Kronos? Is one of them going to cut off his head and free the rest?”

Eddie’s eyes light up, and Steve slaps a hand over his mouth. He doesn’t know who that guy is, and he doesn’t want to deal with the two of them chattering over whatever movie villain he’s assuming is in their weird cult classic films when he still doesn’t know why Eddie is asking him to this party.

He doesn’t even flinch when Eddie licks his hand.

“I’ve been slobbered on by actual monsters,” he says flatly. “Your spit has zero effect on me.”

Eddie bats his eyes and gives his palm a kiss, right where he’d laved his tongue. Steve rolls his eyes and wipes his hand on the side of Eddie’s face.

“Hey!”

“Don’t dish what you can’t take,” Steve says. “Now, why exactly am I getting asked to go to a high school party?”

“Jessica Roberts needs some kush, and she asked me to sell there.”

“Okay? Still not answering my question.”

“There’s gonna be jocks at the party,” Eddie finally confesses, “and I don’t know if they’ll try shit. But given my track record lately…”

“So you need a bodyguard?”

“Hey!” Steve shouts, and is summarily ignored by everyone. So he does what any normal person would do, and slams an abandoned beer bottle against the edge of the counter so it shatters. 

The jocks turn and look at him after that.

Steve glances down at the jagged edges of the bottle in his hands, flipping it like it’s his old ice cream scoop. Yeah, this should work. 

“Leave him alone,” he says, steely inflection to his voice. 

“Or what, Harrington?” One of them asks. “Heard you just been sittin’ in this room all night. What, you hanging around the queers now? Didn’t take you for a f-”

He stops talking when Steve grabs him by the hair and presses the broken bottle against his throat.

“Here’s what's gonna happen,” he says quietly, taking a look at his buddy. He’s let go of Eddie, a lot more spooked now that his friend is shaking in his Nike’s. “You’re going to leave this room. You’re going to leave Munson here alone. You’re not going to bother him, or anyone else in his dragon club ever again. If I hear that you or your little friends are fucking with him, I have a very nice nail-studded baseball bat in my trunk I’d be more than happy to introduce you to. Capisce?”

“Woah, woah, woah,” the guy that was holding Eddie says. “What the hell, Harrington?”

Steve doesn’t break eye contact with the guy he’s threatening. “Capisce?” He asks again, putting a little more force into the word.

“C-capisce.”

“Good,” he says, shoving him away. “Now get outta here.”

They scramble away. Steve walks over to the trash can and throws away the remains of the bottle, running a hand through his hair. He finally turns around to see Eddie staring at him with wide eyes, frozen.

“Sorry-”

“Fuck me.”

“What?”

Eddie’s entire face flushes, like he didn’t mean to say that. “Uh.”

Steve looks at him, and then around the kitchen they’re in. Glass and beer on the floor, music blasting loud enough to set him on edge, a crowd of people that look at him like a zoo exhibit. Fuck, his head hurts. 

“Yeah, okay,” he decides. “We’re going to mine, though.”

“Wh-what?” Eddie looks like a deer in headlights, even though Steve’s offering exactly what he asked. 

“I…have no idea what I’m doing,” Eddie confesses. 

“Oh, are you not…” He trails off, gesturing towards Eddie’s back pocket. “I assumed…”

Eddie laughs abruptly, slapping a hand over his mouth like he startled himself with it. “You know hanky code, Harrington?”

“Can you call me Steve when you’re in my bed?” He’s already got his shirt off, for God’s sake. “Listen, man, if you don’t want this, it’s no biggie.” He starts to get off, and Eddie’s hand clamps over his thigh. 

“No, no, no, don’t you dare. Just gimme a minute, I’m processing.”

“Processing,” he repeats flatly. 

“Yes, processing. I’ve got the guy of my extremely virginal wet dreams shirtless on top of me. I did not think this would ever happen. I didn’t even know you were queer until tonight.”

Steve’s mouth shapes into an “o” of understanding. “You’re a virgin?”

“Jesus, could you focus on anything else I said?”

“You dream about me?”

“Let’s go back to the virgin part.” His fingers start nervously tapping against Steve’s leg. 

“You’re not subtle,” Steve says flatly. “I know when you stare at my ass.”

Eddie colors in a flood of bright red. “What if I wasn’t? What if I was…uh, jealous or something?”

“I guess that’d make sense, since you’re flat as a board.”

“Wh—hey!”