#( gray || all you have is your fire and the place you need to reach. don’t you ever tame your demons always keep them on a leash )

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War

Summary: A warlord!Rhys x Tamlin's sister!Reader AU where Hybern won the War centuries ago, ravishing Prythian and leaving the splintered Courts as nothing more than pockets of travelling war bands. Based loosely on the vibes from War by Laura Thalassa.

Content Warnings: (Each chapter will be tagged accordingly for violence, drinking, and Eventual smut) Canon typical violence, Rhys leans heavily into morally gray, kidnapping.

Author's Note: Trying something new with a first person POV, let me know what you think :)

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“Don’t come back unless you’ve brought food.”

It’s been days since that order, the rumble of my stomach the only indicator of passing time. The changing forests, the dying grasslands, the marshes, it’s all been a disappointing blur. All my traps are empty and untouched, some frozen in place as winter approaches. My father used to tell me stories of the Courts, how they were ruled by High Lords with the power to keep perpetual seasons. That was before the War, before Hybern and his General Amarantha ruined everything with the Cauldron, all for some human slaves. Father had liked to talk about the “good ole days” every night around the fire; he could spin pretty tales for hours, but that’s all they are these days. Stories. And stories don’t keep your stomach full.

I trail the deer through a stinking muck of a bog, mud and slimy water seeping in through the holes in my boots. The sludge is bone chilling, my hands shaking around my bow; teeth chattering so loud I have to clamp my mouth shut to avoid making too much noise. I need this kill and I need it fast. 

The deer stops to eat a bit of moss and I take a few more careful steps forward to get a better vantage point, cautious of where the ground sinks deeper beneath the murky water. Slipping and twisting an ankle in this mud would be dangerous, but it’s not an injury that makes my steps cautious. There are plenty of kelpie around these parts, I feel their beady little eyes watching me under the cover of a quickly approaching fog. All I need is one misstep and those spindly, webbed hands will drag me under for a quick meal.

Better a kelpie than the Highway Men I’d managed to dodge getting this far out of my brother’s territory, I suppose, but I’d rather avoid both of them if possible.

Once I’m sure of my footing, I notch an arrow to my bow. This is not the ideal place to kill it, but the rumbling of my stomach might just be too damn loud to give me another chance if I wait for it to pass out of the bog. How many days has it been since my last meal? Four? Five?

I pull the arrow back, the weathered feathers brushing my hollow cheek. 

The deer’s head jerks up, ears turning to listen to something beyond the fog and I hold my breath. The ground beneath my boots begins to rumble and the deer bolts before I can take the shot, disappearing into the gloom. A loss to mourn later, because that rumbling can only mean one thing: Horses, and a lot of them, moving right in my direction. 

I slide my bow over my shoulder and run back the way I’d come, mud sucking at my every step, slowing my progress as I try to get back to the treeline at the edge of the bog. The wet land is covered in dead and living trees alike, some as old as time, still reaching towards the sun like the ruined hands of a corpse, some fighting its inevitable demise. It’s too cold these days for the living to still have leaves, so even if I wanted to stop and climb one, I’d have no place to hide. I might as well stand there and wave my arms and alert every horseman to my location.

Still, the branches are helpful for leverage, and I grab onto the low ones and haul myself along, hoping to find shelter higher up the basin’s edge, where the water has not claimed as much. There’s plenty of underbrush there to shield me. 

The first horse appears through the fog, dark as a shadow, it’s echoing whinny chilling in the previous silence. A hooded rider sits atop the giant animal, a giant sword sheathed between his massive shoulders. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” I hiss to no one as I crouch the best I can in the open air. 

There are many warbands in Prythian these days. Some are Hybern’s men. Some Amarantha’s. The rest are what remains of the Courts. Those of us with enough magic to prove useful have been known to swear fealty and garner protection from them, but that means you get the privilege of fighting and dying for those entitled pricks who think they are owed the land their ancestors once ruled. From this far, I can’t tell who’s colors they bear, but without the, usually oppressive presence, of my brother’s own men I’m not likely to have a safe encounter. Better to wait it out and let them pass.

The first rider doesn’t see me through the fog, a small blessing that I take full advantage of by inching forward. The treeline is so close. If I am lucky, if the Mother is still out there listening and looking out for me, I can hunker down and wait.

A second rider appears through the fog, faster than the first, racing along the bog’s edge until it makes it over the ledge of the basin and disappears. The cry of their horses sound like ghosts howling in the wind. A third and fourth rider follow. I can hear even more of them, the rumble of their caravan making the ground shake, but no more appear as the fog thickens. 

A shiver runs down my spine, but still, I press forward. I’ve dodged plenty of males like this in the past, I can do the same now. I just need to be smart. And lucky.

Neither of which I am, apparently. As soon as my boots touch more solid ground, another horse appears, this time, from within the safety of the treeline I’d been so desperate to get to. The rider atop this one is as large as the first, face completely obscured by a black hood with three stars perfectly poised over his forehead, the bottom two falling where his eyes should be. 

I freeze, mind reeling back to a time years ago, when those stars had come bursting through camp, only bloodshed and destruction behind them. My hands shake at my sides as I slide backwards into the muck, slipping, barely maintaining my balance as the midnight black horse rears, hooves pawing at the air. I’d heard that terrifying whiny before too, right before my father’s head rolled out of his tent. 

My stomach rolls, bile rising in the back of my throat. This can’t be happening to me! They promised to stay away.

The rider gets his horse under control, large, gloved hands yanking hard on the reins, deep voice barking orders in the language I know belongs to the mountain men in Illyria, but had never been permitted to learn myself.

My heart hammers in my chest as I get back on my feet, head whipping back and forth trying to find a way out.  

“What’s your business here?” The rider demands, voice deep, gruff, muffled by a scarf over the lower half of his face.

“My own,” I snarl, reaching for the hunting knife at my hip. This is no one’s claimed territory, save for maybe the kelpie I hear skimming the surface at my back, I have every right to hunt here as anyone. “Now let me pass and I’ll be on my way.”

The rider swings out of the saddle and the ground shakes as his boots touch the ground. A dark mist leaks from his shoulders, shadows swirling around the sword hilt peeking out from between his shoulders and… I’d been mistaken about his size, it wasn’t just his shoulders, it was a pair of wings. Wings that had been tucked tight while he was  riding but now stretch out behind him, the leathery membrane pitted and scarred from years of battle. If I’d had doubts about who this was before, I don't now. Though I’d only seen him in glimpses that night, Tamlin had talked enough about the rival warlord over the years for me to be able to put two and two together.

A lump forms in my throat. Rhysand is even taller up close, the top of my head barely coming up to his chin. “I have nothing of value.” I’m not wearing our colors, I’m not sure if they would have helped or hindered me here, but my best bet is to just play dumb.

From the incline of his head it looks like he’s eyeing my knife, but I can’t be certain. There is some kind of enchantment over his hood, obscuring his face from view. “What’s your name?” 

“No business of yours,” I retort, tightening my grip on the knife. 

“So hostile,” he purrs. “I mean no harm.”

“Says the male with the sword.”

“If I wanted to hurt you, I would have.”

“I’m flattered,” I drawl. “How kind of you to deem me worth a modicum of decency as you block my exit.”

He takes a step forward and I take a step back, right to the edge of the water, where that damn creature hisses out a chuckle, knife poised and ready between us. He’s not wearing armor, a well placed blow could still kill him, I want him to think twice before moving any closer. Though, I suppose I must not look that imposing, considering our size difference and the sheer amount of muscle underneath that dark cloak. 

He sizes me up silently for a moment, hooded head intently fixed on the hand gripping the knife. Then, with speed enhanced even for High Fae, he’s reaching forward and grabbing my wrist as I stumble back and slam right into a tree.

It’s instinct: The punch I throw with my free hand, hitting him square in the throat, even as my heel comes down on the top of his foot. He grunts like it hurts, but doesn’t move, doesn’t let up on the grip he keeps on my wrist.

“Where’d you get this scar?” He drags a finger over the top of my hand, where I’ve got a scar shaped like an eight point star. 

“Get off me!” I shout as I try to wrench my hand free of his grip.

If his men hear, they don’t come running. There is no one here to save me--not that there has been anyone to save me in a long time anyway.

He’s wearing gloves, but with the hand not maintaining a vice on my wrist, he pushes the leather back enough to reveal a matching scar on the back of his own hand. 

All thought eddies from my mind. 

This can’t be real.

He takes the knife from my hand as if it was being held by a toddler, but much to my surprise, he slides it right back into its sheath at my hip. The move lets him lean in, large body hovering over mine. I still can’t see a glimpse of his face beneath the hood. 

“You’re my mate,” he says, voice a reverent whisper.

Mate. My heart hammers in my chest at the word, as if something beneath my skin is coming to life at the realization. The power that lies distant and untouched with me stirs, a large beast poking its head out of the den after a long hibernation. Having a mate is most women's dream--was my own, once upon a time, before the world went to hell--but not like this, not him. My world had gone to hell because of him. 

The Mother truly hates my guts.

“I’m not your anything,” I snarl as I get a hand on his broad chest and push. He’s nothing but solid muscle beneath my palm. When pushing gets me nowhere, I make a fist and hit him a good couple times. “Now let go of me, you brute!”

He chuckles, low and rich, as if this is all very amusing. “No. It’s not safe out here. You’re coming with me.”

I’d rather be eaten by the kelpie. “The hell I am!” But before I can find a way to fight him, as useless as my attempts have been thus far, he wraps a strong arm around my waist and all but tosses me into the saddle.

I reach for my hunting knife again, but a gloved hand hovers over my own, even as his other arm snakes around me to grab the reins. “Easy, mate,” he purrs in my ear. “You don’t need to be afraid of me.”

Despite myself, that voice, so close to my ear, his body warm and solid behind me, a shiver runs down my spine. “You’re fucking kidnapping me, you bastard!” I snarl, because there’s no way I’m just going along with this. “And I’m not your mate! I don’t even believe in mates.”

“You will,” he assures as he kicks his horse into moving back into the fog.

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[cinisemperium]

@laxusthelightning sent in: "Since when?" (to Gray 8)) noticing / being noticed || accepting

The sudden voice behind him catches him off guard and he whips around in surprise, muscles tense and ready for a fight. When he sees who it is, he relaxes, the tension leaving his body just as fast as it had arrived.

"Oh, this?" He chuckles sheepishly, holding the cigarette up in front of him. The cherry burns a soft red, standing out against the darkness of the night. "Since Avatar. I started not long after I joined, and I just haven't been able to kick the habit."

He sighs, and takes one more drag before putting it out on the back of his hand, which sizzles when the small flame makes contact with his magic. He pulls a small box out from his jacket, and slips the cigarette inside before tucking it back into his jacket.

"What brings you out here, anyway? Worried about little ol' me, were ya?" he asks with a smirk, although he isn't sure why he's trying to lighten the situation. It wasn't like Laxus really cared what vices he indulged in.

[calypsocolada]

THE PROPHECY | t. shigaraki

synopsis: tomura doesn't want to be your enemy anymore. authors note: hi hi hi. been working on this fic for a few weeks. it's sort of a continuation of the first kiss fic with him in it. also I'm working on a few other fics and requests and hope you enjoy this one in the meantime. it's a lot longer than I thought it was gonna be. also with the release of tswifts new album expect a few little nods to her songs... cw: blood, gore, suggestive, enemies to lovers, lovesick!tomura, obession, fem reader wc: 5k

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He watched you from afar. He watched your television broadcasts and studied your face as though he’d missed something the first hundred times. He remembered your smiles, and could decipher whether real or fake. He’d visit places you had been and imagine you there now. Future number one hero. His number one. Tomura was sick. Sick in the head, sick in his chest, his heart, dark and decrepit only beat for the sun. His days were dark and gray until he saw your shining face. So bright sometimes it made his stomach turn. He wouldn’t call it an obsession. It was something far worse. He didn’t just want you. He needed you. He needed all of you. Wanted your things in his room. Wanted your body sprawled over his bed in one of his worn t-shirts. Wanted you eating at his kitchen table, something only he cooked for you. He wanted to hear you talk to him. To say his name. Wanted your eyes on his and your hands on him. He wanted your time and your heart and your being. He couldn’t have it though. The prophecy that encircled him was stuck on its unwavering path. Even you couldn’t deter his fate.   

Sometimes he thinks about the first time he saw you. Only when he’s alone and no one can see just how far gone he truly is. 

Him in company with the shadows as you were announced as the next pro hero. You were standing on some podium. The microphone was taller than you as you reached for it and it yelped with feedback. You had laughed it off and cleared your throat. You looked radiant, with glowing skin and bright hopeful eyes. You were signed to Endeavors squad. Tomura knew you were stronger than that bumbling fire breathing idiot. But still you smiled just as bright. 

All that untapped potential within you. Those powers could cause devastation if in a villain's hands. Which is why All For One asked Tomura to keep an eye on you in the first place. To see when the time to strike and steal those powers would be. But Tomura was past that. You had far more meaningful things he wanted rather than your powers.

You had thanked Endeavor after he gave a speech introducing you, your hand wrapping around the mic. Tomura fed off the shadows, after all they were giving him the ability to see you in person. It was an unreal feeling. Your speech wasn’t too long and you ended it before your eyes could well up with tears. The last words of your speech swirling around in Tomura’s head. 

“I have always wanted to do good. I’ve always wanted to be a hero. Thank you for giving me the chance to do just that.” 

He could see that good in you. Could see that swirling hope, that devotion to all things just. He unfortunately could see All-Might's influence. Endeavor walked over and placed a hand on your shoulder and Tomura felt something sick churning. He didn’t like people touching you. He knew you were nice, maybe too nice to say anything but he’d gladly be your voice if you needed it. When it was over you had walked out to meet people. Tomura watched you still. You were like some drug he couldn’t fend himself off of. He followed you at a healthy distance through the crowd. He wanted to see if he could corrupt you. See if he could drive you to the edge. See if those powers could be used for more than just causes. He could grab the man standing beside him and use decay. He could create mass panic. He could see your powers up close, could feel the weight of your stare. But as he got closer he saw you bending over to smile at a little girl. He heard your laugh and melancholy voice telling the little girl that if you could be a hero, anyone could. His reaching hand paused when you straightened and turned, almost like you felt the heat of his piercing eyes. Like you had a feeling creeping down your spine. Good intuition. He turned to leave just as your eyes found his. Just that split second of eye contact sent him pushing his way through the crowd and towards the exit as though he had just committed some atrocity and needed a quick exit. 

You two crossed paths many times after that day. Tomura did learn the full force of your attention and it completely turned himself in on his once well sought after goals. Because now… you became his goal. His ultimate end. He wouldn’t mind dying if only it was by your hands. There was no saving him, no redemption for you to give him but death. He could see it in your piercing eyes. Could feel it in the way you fought him. You didn’t fight like other heroes. You had something to prove. Most heroes in your position would be cocky. But not you. No you were calculating and smart, but above all… you were vicious with him. Those powers were something to fear and Tomura loved them more for it. The one person that could end his endless suffering was also the root of it. 

And the moment had finally come for him. After fighting, Tomura’s endurance wavering, he saw a thirst for blood in your eyes. A hunger so deep he knew you could never feel the same for him in a million millennia. And when the time came he accepted the death you’d grant him with open arms. 

But you didn’t grant him a thing. 

You had every opportunity to but you hesitated. Tomura saw it. Saw the quickest of uncertainties pass your heavenly face. Your eyes flitting up to him. The eye contact was nothing like he’d ever experienced before in his miserable life. You weren’t looking at him with anger or contempt. But something else. Something he wishes he could ask you to explain. He watched your lips part and heard you suck in a breath, not realizing he’d been holding his own. 

“Well… what’re you waiting for, hero?” He asked. This moment like something right out of his stupid daydreams. You tightened your grip slightly at the sound of his voice but that uncertainty stayed. Tomura couldn’t help but glance at your lips. After all this was probably the last time he’d ever see them this closely. And he couldn’t help but get caught up, to just stare and drink in his fill before his demise. You flinched when he looked back up and right then and there he knew you couldn’t kill him. He didn’t know what it was but he could feel it as deeply as he felt for you. 

“I can’t.“ You affirmed his suspicions. Tomura’s stomach clenched. He’d never heard your voice this close, speak this softly. He melted at the moment. You let out a ragged breath and there was a moment shared before Tomura saw Dabi’s blue flames travel towards your unguarded back. Tomura acted without even thinking. He gripped you by the shoulders and spun you out of the line of fire. You felt the heat graze against your shoulder before your back hit the ground, Tomura shielding you with his own body. He was burned badly with that little move. He groaned above you, shooting a glare back at Dabi. You stared at him above you in utter shock and confusion. He’d just saved your life. He stared at your mouth then saved your life. And you couldn’t kill him. You had every opportunity to end everything right here and now. He was already injured, you could finish it all here and now. But when Tomura turned and your eyes met again you couldn’t do it. Tomura reached for you, his thumb just barely wiping dirt from your cheek. It was surprisingly intimate. Until you realized the hand touching you was the same one that could easily turn you to dust. You were quick to act, quick to fire up your powers and send Tomura back towards the fire. Something burned in you, some feeling of guilt as you struggled to your feet and ran off towards the rest of the hero’s that had started to fall back. Tomura hit the ground hard, slightly startled by the force in which you sent him flying. He rose and watched you meeting back up with the rest of the hero’s. Watched Hawks run over and meet you halfway, grabbing you gently and looking you over for any wounds. Tomura felt his stomach twist in a sickening way. Jealousy like a vice around his chest. 

You had tossed and turned all night. Unable to turn your mind off. The events of the day played in a loop. Fighting Tomura, taking him to the ground. The curious way he looked at you. The curious way you looked back. The inability to kill him after everything. You could justify trying again if he hadn’t saved you. He saved you. Tomura Shigaraki saved your damn life. He took a burn for you. And then he touched your cheek. Without evil intent. And the look in his eyes when he did it. That’s what haunted you so stunningly and consistently for the entire night. You sighed heavily, turning over in your bed, running a stressed hand through your hair. 

Was this a thing now? That hesitation that took such deep root, that act of kindness to keep you from the flames. What if he had done it to confuse you? To test your allegiances. If so you had failed sort of spectacularly. Letting him touch you and feeling something when he did. You sat up instantly. You felt something when he touched you. You felt something when you watched his eyes watching your lips. You pushed out of bed and felt the cold flooring beneath your feet as you rushed from your room. You needed to do something… anything to get your mind off of him. In your haste you slammed right into Hawks. 

“Woah… hey there you alright?” He asked, steadying you. You cleared your throat. 

“Y-yeah, just hungry.” You lied. Hawks slightly cocked his head as he surveyed you for a moment. 

“You seem… rattled.” Hawks says. You look up at him a little too quickly. You shake your head. 

“I’m fine.” You say and slightly cringe because you did not sound fine. But Hawks wasn’t one to pry. He just gave you a small smile and nodded his head. 

“Well… you know where to find me if you aren’t actually fine.” He says before walking off to his room. You turn slightly as you watch him walk away. You suddenly wished he was who you were laying up at night thinking about. Wished you could chase him down now and release the pent up energy that swirled within you. But that wouldn’t be fair to him because you’d be thinking of someone else. You ran a stressed hand down your face and proceeded to the kitchen. After you ate and calmed down a bit you were able to wrangle in those unruly thoughts. Just because he saved you once doesn’t mean he deserves to take up rent in your head. The man was evil. You’d spent the better part of a year facing off with him and his followers. He doesn’t deserve your hesitation or confusion. The next time you faced off with him would be the last.

Tomura could only watch as his mind was stolen, watching his body being overtaken by a force he wasn’t strong enough to stop. All for One’s control taking over. He knew he had seconds left before he’d no longer cease to be himself. You burned with hatred beneath him, your left arm broken and useless, your right hand holding some sharp shrapnel that you’d plunged desperately into his side, your powers flickering weakly within you. He didn’t feel the pain. Your eyes flashed, his hands around your neck, squeezing. Someone was going to win here but… it wasn’t going to be him. 

He pulled you hard, the fire in your eyes licking and burning his own but he couldn’t care less. If he was going to die he was going to make one last grave mistake that might send him to the grave earlier than expected. He leaned down where you were pinned beneath him and with impressive force, smashed his lips against your own. 

The kiss was like a fight. Like all your other fights. But lips instead of fists. With breaths instead of words. With groans instead of screams and growls. His hands gripped your face hard to keep you where he wanted you. You, in a fit of confusion and pure survival instinct twisted the shrapnel in his side. He gasped in pain but that only spurred him on, his mouth cracking yours open in a feverish attempt to be as close as humanly possible. He had no indication whether or not you wanted this until the pain ceased and he felt your tongue brush against his. His breathing hitched, muddled with pain and sorrow and complete obsession. He pulled you off the ground roughly and kissed you until you both  were gasping for air. When he pulled back the state he left you in was enough to satisfy him for years. Your lips were kissed pink and wet, your cheeks had a wicked blush across them as you stared at him with utter bewilderment and something else that had his stomach tangling in knots within him.

He resigned himself to death then. He was guilty as sin.

Your hand was still on the hilt of your shrapnel that was embedded in his side as you stared at each other. Breaths heavy. Tomura didn’t know how to be kind. He didn’t know how to be soft. He’d never kissed anyone before and it should’ve been pretty damn suspicious when the first person he’d ever felt the need to devour with his lips was the one standing opposite of him in this endless war. The one he needed to destroy. And to say he wanted to devour you was almost an understatement. He wanted to climb into your body and live in your ribcage, safe and tucked away. He wanted to be inside you, wanted that mind of yours to only know him, wanted those pink lips to only speak his name, those pretty eyes to only meet him. The obsession was endless. He wanted it more than ever right now. Death knocking down his rotted door. So bad that he hadn’t even noticed his own tears before they fell and hit your cheeks. You blinked a few times, slowly coming back down from the clouds. Tomura reached for you a last time, the pad of his thumb swiping his tears off your cheek. 

“Save me, hero.” He breathed out before everything went black. 

Your breathing staggered as you watched Tomura change before your eyes into something else. You had been warned about Tomura’s connection to All For One but you let yourself get caught up in the moment. You were able to take advantage of the moment and put a little distance between you and the hijacker. You could hear Hawks calling for you somewhere but you weren’t leaving this. Tomura had asked you to save him. With tears in his eyes. And god dammit you were going to save him if it killed you.

“I know you're still in there,” You call out, voice steadier than it had been all day long. The hijacker looked up and the smile was pure evil. All For One. You’d never met him in person and without Aizawa here to cancel his quirk you were dead in the water. But you weren’t leaving.

“Tomura’s not here, girl. But he sends his condolences.” Even his voice didn’t sound the same. You kept your head high and even though your body screamed in pain you got ready to fight. 

“Get out of his head.”

“You sound like you care, hero?” You flinched at the nickname. It didn’t sound as good coming from him. 

“I can’t ignore someone in trouble.” You say, your heart speeding slightly as All for One laughs. 

“Is that so?” He asks, cocking his head. “As though you weren’t seconds away from killing him before I took over.” You were slightly relieved he didn’t seem to know what had transpired moments before he took over.

“He asked for help.”

“Does he deserve your help?”

“Everyone deserves help.” You shoot back defiantly. All for One just laughs, walking towards you. Your powers flickered weakly within you and you felt overwhelming fear, felt the urge to run. But you stayed put. 

“How about a trade, hmm?” He asked. You stared at him. He wasn’t to be trusted, you know that. But still… 

“A trade?” You echoed.

“I’ll give him back to you if you hand over those powers willingly.” All for One stated. You stared at him. All you ever wanted in life was to be a hero. You were blessed to have powers like these and as much as you wanted to save Tomura, these powers in All For One’s hands would only cause death and destruction. 

“I- can’t.” You said and watched a sympathetic smile spread across All for One’s stolen features. 

“Some hero you are.” He said. “And to think this host pathetically loved you for years.” Your eyes cut to his. 

“What?”

“You heard me. What an idiot he was, thinking you could save him.” You saw red. You charged without even thinking, your powers flaring up as you hit All for One square in the jaw. He lost a few steps, blood dripping from his lips as he laughed and laughed and laughed. “You’re bold.” He said and you burned. You only had one good arm and you hit him again and again until you couldn’t feel your knuckles, your hand bruised and battered. You screamed to let Tomura free but your words fell to uncaring ears. All for One caught one of your punches and sent you flying. You crashed into some loose debris. You coughed up blood and dizzily tried to push yourself to your feet. Your endurance was gone, at this point you’d been fighting for hours. You were past your limit, undoubtedly bleeding externally and internally. But still you pushed to your feet only to be caught by the throat and slammed into the wall. All for One pinned you there, with your feet not touching the ground you gasped and sputtered for air. You kicked hard but All For One just laughed it off. “You’re a strong one, hero. I’ll give you a valiant death.” Fear gripped your heart and in a last ditch desperate act you grabbed the closest thing you could find and sunk it into the flesh of All for One’s arm. He didn’t budge. With his hand around your throat, blackness danced around the edge of your vision. You had no strength left. You were going to die. 

“Tomura-” You struggled to breathe, your voice coming out in a choking gasp. Somehow… you’d grown to care. “Come…back.”

When you woke up it was a startling affair. You sat up quickly, gasping and reaching for your throat, you felt the tender flesh there, undoubtedly bruised. Warm covers fell from your body as you looked around. You were in some small cabin, a fire burning in the hearth, a soft orange glow lightening the room. You were bandaged up pretty thoroughly, your arm in a sling. You pushed the covers from your body and swung your legs around to the edge of the bed and that’s when you saw him. Sleeping soundly in the wooden rocker beside your bed was Tomura. His hair was damp and falling in stringy curls around his face. You stared at him, unable to look away. What had happened? It was clear to you that some time had passed since fighting All for One since it was dark outside. But how you got here and with Tomura was a complete mystery. You silently move to your feet and wrap the cover around your freezing body. You move towards the door, hand inching towards the door knob.

“Leaving without a word?” You flinch hard at his sleepy voice. Hand stopping before it touches the knob. You don’t turn to face him, ashamed after everything.

“Where am I?” You ask over your shoulder. You hear Tomura sit up in the chair.

“A cabin, safe.” 

“Not good enough.” You snap, turning slightly. Your eyes meet and you instantly regret turning. Tomura is looking at you in a way that makes your stomach flip. Tomura stands and you pull the covers tighter around yourself. He walks to you and you take a step back. Was All for One still in control? Was this an act? As though he read your thoughts he held up his hands in mock surrender.

“It’s me.”

“How?” You question, keeping up your guard. Even if it was him the air between you two would still be foggy. He kissed you when you thought he was going to kill you. You weren’t sure at all where you stood. 

“I heard you.” He says softly. “I heard your voice and it… gave me purpose.” He doesn’t reach for you but a part of you wishes he had. You hazard another look in his eyes. What was this spell that suddenly had such a tight hold over you? This feeling that only sprung when he first touched you. Just looking in his eyes made your knees weak. But you were good at maintaining a poker face. 

“Purpose to finish the job yourself?” You ask. Tomura doesn’t react to your venom, it was as though he expected it. He looks away from you.

“I won’t ever kill you. Not even if my life depended on it.” He says. You stare at him.

“I don’t understand.”

“You… affected me, hero. It’s not something I can… explain exactly.”

“Try.” You say sharply. Tomura looked slightly stressed, he ran a hand through his hair, his shirt popping up slightly. You blush and turn away. Tomura couldn’t even imagine this moment in a million years. You, standing mere feet from him, cheeks pink, moments from a confession he didn’t even know how to word. He was sure his kiss spoke volumes. 

“It’s rather simple,” He starts, taking a hazardous step towards you. Your eyes cut up to his, watching his every move. “I don’t think of you as my enemy.” You suck in a silent breath, your lips parting in surprise. You didn’t have to ask what he meant by that. You were sure that kiss was a power move and that he’d gotten the better of you. But it seems you have had the better of him for quite a while. You pulled the cover closer as though it could shield you from something you didn’t quite understand just yet. But… you wanted to understand.

“You saved me. From Dabi’s fire weeks ago. I… never got to thank you.”

“You being alive is thanks enough.” Tomura says. Your heart skips in your chest. You breathe in somewhat unsteadily.

“How long… How long was I out?” You ask, clearing your throat.

“Just a few hours. After I got control back everything sort of fell into chaos so I just grabbed you and ran.”

“You patched me up too?” You ask and Tomura nods his head. 

“You should rest some more. No one’s going to hurt you here.”

“I don’t trust you.” You say. Tomura looks hurt by that but more so he looks like he understands, after all this was all sort of new territory. Tomura had no intention of forcing you to do anything, after everything you two had been through he’d be delusional to think you’d up and change how you thought about him in one day. He never thought that could even be possible, that someone could trust him enough to love him. That someone could look at him, perceive him and know him to his very core and choose to stay. He’d stay for you. But he didn’t expect you to stay for him. 

“That’s okay. Are you hungry?” He asks softly. Your eyes meet again. This time tension builds properly and you're reminded how he kissed you. How he grabbed you like a starving man and slamming his lips against your own as though he’d rather do that than breathe. You blush at the thought.

“I need to go. I need to tell my team I’m alive.” You say.

“Stay. Just this one night. I’ll even leave. Just stay, eat something, rest and leave in the morning.” Tomura says, almost like a plea. You swallow, something in his tone had your stomach twisting. You were in trouble. Deep trouble. 

“I… I can’t stay.” You shake your head, dropping the cover and reaching for your clothes but Tomura catches your wrist. His grip is gentle and he’s stepped much closer to you.

“Don’t go.” He pleaded. You couldn’t even speak, not with him this close. You're not sure where your composure had gone but you sorely missed it at this moment. “Just one night-” You cut off his sentence, pressing your lips to his. He got to surprise you once, now it was your turn.  

A curiosity burned inside you, a need to feel the way you felt when he kissed you that first time. Tomura melted at your touch, he groaned against your lips and stepped fully into your space, gently walking you back against the cabin door. A heat burned in the pit of your stomach, only his touch satiated it. Your body ached from the earlier fight, scar and bruises stinging with every movement. But you didn’t care. You dragged Tomura to the bed and pulled him down on top of you. You kissed him hard, kissed him with a need to understand him. To crack him open and live inside. He pulled back just slightly.

“Do you really want this-” You grabbed his shirt and showed him exactly what you wanted. All those sleepless nights, thinking of him. You could solve all the mysteries now. You wanted him horribly bad. Clothes were shed, breaths shared. Tomura was careful with you because of your injuries and although you didn’t exactly want that it was nice not being in complete pain during all this ecstasy. Tomura kissed everything he could, he mapped you out. Wanting to carve the sight of you beneath him into his own skin. To remember this night for years to come. He didn’t expect this lapse of judgment to be a recurring thing. He fully expected you to come to your senses and be gone in the morning. The vicious cycle back in effect. But he wouldn’t fight you any longer. If you wanted to win all you needed to do was ask. Tomura kissed his way back up to your mouth. Your eager touches almost sent him over the edge. Tomura wanted to take things slow but it felt achingly slow, he was just as eager as you. He wanted to see the reactions on your face when he touched you there, wanted to catalog every sound, every noise that escaped your pink lips. He wanted to be rough, it was in his nature but he just couldn’t, he just wanted to kiss you, you were very dear to him. To be close to you. He wanted the soft touches, but above all he wanted the reassurance, even if he knew he could never have it. You could feel it, so you flipped around and pressed him into the covers. He gasped beneath you. If this was anything like your fights you’d come out on top. You leaned and kissed his lips, you trailed kisses to his neck and savored his labored breaths and small whimpers. You barely moved your hips against his, just to amp up the tension. You wanted so badly for years to hold a win over his head, to conquer him but you never thought it would be in such a different context. You tangled a hand in his hair and left marks on his neck. He twitched beneath you, his gentle grip on your hips slowly tightening. You could tell he was holding back. Maybe because you were so injured.You had realized you had been moving sort of fast, consumed by the moment. So consumed that when your hurt arm hit the bed it sent a sobering pain through you like nothing before. Tomura sat up, gently helping your arm back into the sling, careful hands brushing your hair from your face.

“We should stop… I don’t want you injuring that arm anymore.” He says softly as you nod in agreement. He rises from the bed and disappears into the kitchen for a moment before coming back with some food and medicine. As he watched you eat he thought about what he wanted. He wanted you to be the one to stay. To break his curse and change the prophecy. He’d beg and plead if he needed to. Pray to anything above that would hear his desperate pleas. He just wanted you to stay.

“This is good.” You said. “Didn’t know you knew how to cook.” You say, realizing you really don’t know much about Tomura on a personal level. And that you did want to know him. 

“I’m glad you like it.” He says, but it was clear his mind was somewhere else. He watched you with this sort of wanting expression.

“Have you eaten?” You ask and when you look up he leans just slightly to press a soft kiss to your lips. Your breath hitches as he presses his forehead to yours. 

“Will you stay?” He whispers to you. You nod your head and his hands slide against your cheeks as he deepens the kiss, hand tangling in your hair as he drinks you in. How could you not stay?  

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Stories:

The Tooth Fairy (prequel)

Yandere Serial Killer x GN Reader

A bracelet made of pearly, white incisors was placed under your pillow. Silver wire intricately held each tooth in place to form a grotesque version of jewelry. A mockery of the silver bracelet that had recently gone missing under your nose.

A bit of dried blood on the crown of the two teeth which brought a shiver down your spine. Who on earth would bring you such macabre tokens of affection?

You sighed and analyzed the bracelet. This was the fifth piece of handmade jewelry, if you could call it that, in the last few months.

You placed it with the other trinkets on your dresser. A pair of earrings made of human canines and a necklace made with various premolars and molars. And now you had a matching bracelet for your grotesque jewelry from your secret admirer.

You glanced at your window that had the lock obviously tampered with. Whoever they were, they always managed to break in without your knowledge. Were you still waking up and that was why you were so nonchalant about it? Or was it your fascination with serial killers that made you less inclined to notify the police of your… growing collection.

You rubbed your temple as you felt an impending headache grasp you in its hold. No… you couldn’t reject them. Gods only knew what they’d do if you reject them. Kill you? Pull your teeth out one by one? Torture you? You didn’t want to find out, so you became an unwilling accomplice to this matters individuals scheme. Whatever that may be.

You began to get ready for work at the dentist office but not before you checked your reflection.

Your fingers poked at the corners of your mouth to turn your lips into a smile. Your teeth now on display in this fake display of happiness, the perfect costumer service face.

“Smile…” Because you never know who was watching you.

.

.

.

You sat at your desk with your signature customer service smile and sugar sweet voice. A smile that never quite reached your eyes, but it got the point across to the various customers that came in for their dental appointments.

Another day in your other wise boring life save for the obtuse way you handled your stalker. Perhaps you should buy a gun? You’ve never fired a firearm before so you’d need training…

“Good morning!” You nearly jumped out of your skin when the dentist, Dorian Zimmerman, placed his hands on your shoulders.

“Jesus, Dorian! You scared me.” You clutched your chest as your heart nearly escaped from your chest. An amused smile on his face as he eyed you up and down.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so lost in thought.” Dorian shrugged while he scanned the list for every patient. “Will there ever be a day I see you on this list?”

You shook your head. “No, I still go to my family dentist.”

Dorian sighed, “a shame. I’d love to look at your pretty teeth.”

Dorian sauntered off, but not before he cast you one last look. “Can you stay over a bit today? I have something for you.”

“Okay.” You agreed, there was nothing weird about the dentist asking you to stay over, right?

Dorian expression lit up like the sun. “Great. I’ll see you then.”

He then ducked around the bend to get back to his customers. You then diligently went back to your front desk duties.

“He has such pretty teeth.” You whispered to yourself before you noticed a man in all black in front of your desk. “Oh hello, do you have an appointment?”

The tanned man clicked his tongue, his gray eyes glanced you up and down. “Yes. My name is Zahn. Zahn Pain.”

Oh, it seemed you had an edge lord on your hands. But perhaps you were making assumptions based on his gothic appearance and prominent eye bags. His choice of jewelry was rather interesting as well… various animal teeth and crystals were parts of his necklaces, rings, and even earrings.

“Ah yes, your appointment is in about fifteen minutes-“ you were shocked when he placed his face closer to the glass, his eyes locked you in place like a predator staring down his prey.

“Do you like the dentist’s teeth?” Zahn muttered, his hands shook a bit while his face remained unreadable and stoic.

“Oh? Doctor Zimmerman has to have nice teeth to show his clients.” You nervously laugh which made Zahn back down. Why was he so strange?

Zahn hummed and shoved his hands in his leather jacket’s pockets. “I think your teeth are prettier since they’re not veneers. Have more personality.”

You thought for a moment. You hadn’t realized Dorian had veneers… which would explain their uncanny valley perfection. Zahn was surprising observant.

The gothic boy took a seat far away from the other patients in the very back of the lobby that had the perfect view of your desk. His gray eyes bore holes in your head while you continued to work.

You just couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that pooled in your stomach…

[comfortless]

so. please consider: König is a prince (yeah we aren’t going full king this route, maybe he has an older brother or some complications having the throne to himself but either way he has some power just not all of it lol) and reader is part of a performing troupe that usually acts out plays outside of the castle. he goes out to watch them and becomes so desperate for her that he gets /her/ to perform as /him/ when the plays are about his heroic deeds or whatever.

i have had this idea stuck in my head for days and i just know you can bring it to life 🩵

the evil little König in my head took over. no one look at me. 🥩🏰

prince!König x fem reader.

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. dubcon. mentions of adultery (not committed by reader or König), corruption kink (virgin!König), cunnilingus, light roleplay, scent & praise kink, smut (piv), reader is kind of evil here (König still manages to be worse), allusions to abduction.

“You are certainly lovelier than my wife, the Queen!”

He had his sword drawn, not high enough to elicit panic, but just enough to know that yes, there was a very present threat. This could be a bloodbath in an instant. Speak another word — he won’t refrain. He feels his teeth grit, grating, ash in the mouth and in the air.

The actors are unaware where they are stood on stage, and the mass of bodies surrounding barely take note of their Prince. A phantom. Loathed thing that he has always been. More hated than even their lecherous, stupid king. There’s only one thing he’s good for and it’s never been politics; there’s no need to garner up public appeal when your stage is a foreign field littered with blood and corpses.

Another insult to his poor mother and the city could be one too.

From a small wooden booth acting as a prop depiction of a brothel, steps a woman. Barefoot, bare flesh, the only thing she wears is a breast band and a loincloth of finely stitched lace. She isn’t a whore, not in truth, but she looks the part of the women his men rush to the second they’ve returned home. Ale and sex in abundance, and he’s never had the focus for the latter after a round of the former.

He watches as she sways, draws her hand to her forehead and bats her lashes while her other trails up her thigh to the hem of the piece concealing her womanhood. She stops with a laugh, turns to the crowd with sparkling eyes and says, “You lot should not cheer! The Queen surely deserves better than a womanizing fool!”

König’s never been one for plays, how tactlessly they slander the royal family and make jest of current affairs. This troupe, though… he thinks it’s done in taste. Or maybe it’s just her.

Even as the aging performer with his weathered face and messy gray beard acting the part of his father rushes to the pretty thing on stage and paws at her waist, König can not tear his eyes away.

The scene reaches its end when the brothel is burned, enacting something horrible the king had done several springs ago. Bereaved, the woman returns to the stage and bares her breasts, monologuing so sweetly as she feigns tears for her fallen sisters.

König swears to be nothing like his father but he still finds his trousers fitting more tightly at the sight, not foul enough to touch himself here, if ever at all. His heart aches with each fragile word spilled from those plush lips, and his cock demands further engagement with each gentle sway of her body and heave of her round tits.

His sword slots back into place at his hip when the scene comes to an end: the crowd a storm of laughter, the fire of the torches illuminating the street flickering, the actors dissipate behind the wooden stage, and all at once the play is over.

Tactless and impulsive, he thinks to thank her for not furthering the set-up for a joke, looks the part of a proper fool when he makes his way backstage where she’s sat wiping away carmine from her cheeks. The actress’ eyes go wide and hazy when she catches sight of him towering over her, the cloth and mirror slipping from her hands to rest on the table.

Of course, she takes it as a warning, asks him if he would prefer they only act out the current affairs— the recent siege of the southern kingdom, maybe? Or a story about the harvest festival? The gods or beasts? Anything she can sputter out to the man she easily recognizes as being the Prince.

König only finds himself further endeared when she dips her head as if ashamed and moves to conceal the bare skin of her stomach as though it would be insulting to see her in such a state of undress.

He excitedly tells her about the siege, of how he slaughtered those treasonous men and so valiantly brought their women and children to the capital to live much more honest lives, boasting while she looks on in acute, wonderous horror. That’s what he chooses, even pulls his hood from his face and drops it into her lap when he tells her she has to play his part.

The actress explains to him, docile and sweet, that she’s never played a male role and certainly lacks the stature to accurately represent him of all people. To which, he laughs, bids her a farewell with a flick of his wrist and wanders back out into the cobblestone and muck to finish up his patrol of the city.

A fortnight later, she returns to the stage in hastily put on armors, his veil hanging proudly about her head, a wooden sword clasped tightly in her hands. The crowd watching laughs at her expense as she tries in earnest to perfect the way she imagined his sword must have danced during that siege. The male actors fall with each tap of the weapon’s tip, and her voice takes on a forced, deeper tone when she speaks her praises to the kingdom she’s pilfered glory for.

König only sees fire, not in the flames of torches but lain out before him, a heat that courses from the picture of this beautiful little doe on stage straight down to simmer in his chest, his stomach. She’s so cute, pretending and doing her best just to appease him that he finds himself backstage again once the play concludes.

It’s just to talk, to congratulate her on a wonderful performance. He even presents a hefty sack of gold coins to her when she returns his veil, and she marvels at the donation, takes each piece and turns it in her fingers for a time before setting the little bag on the table.

Her brow scrunches for a moment before she settles on offering her hand out to him, fingertips ghosting over his upper thigh, loitering on the armor shell protecting him and drifting further up until he takes her hand and interlocks their fingers. Surely then, the actress comes to realize that her prince is as pure as the sisters in their temples.

She breathes out a laugh and shakes her head.

“I mean to pleasure you, my Prince,” she says, less meek now and more insisting. Her hand draws back to remove the prop armor from her body, eyes never leaving his own.

Though he considers the woman’s offer heavily, pulse stampeding and heart aching, he does eventually will himself to voice a weak refusal.

Never does he keep himself holed away from her for long, even after; König returns for each play whilst his men go about patrolling the city for prowlers and thieves. He watches each performance and continuously seeks her out backstage after. They talk each time, with him offering his suggestions and her clamoring for excuses as to why, no, she isn’t fit to play his role for another fight or some drab court meeting.

Finally, the same song and dance proves too much.

This night, there is no play and König still finds himself in the room cluttered with set pieces and props. The other actors have gone about seeking their own affairs for the evening; bedsides to coax comfort from or mugs of ale and bowls of bone to drown themselves in whilst gambling away the coins the hungering crowd has thrown their way.

She sits with him, perched up on her little table wearing nothing at all. Her skin is lit aglow by candlelight, the incense burning bathing all in the welcoming, warm comfort of lavender and rosemary. There’s ash in his chest again when he finds himself at her side, already aching with a want that should not exist, one that he would deny in full with bared teeth and blurry vision.

Only, she doesn’t prompt him with questions when her palms splay flat at the chest of his tunic, just grins like a wolf given a fat leg of mutton when she feels him begin to tense. She assures him that she’s only teaching him to act after demanding that he kneel, catches his jaw atop her hand and guides his face between her thighs where he then pants and groans at the foreign, enticing scent.

It awakens something in him, something bathed out and buried in blood, the very same that courses through his veins like a violent river now. A feral look and an iron grip on her hips that would leave bruises is all she gets. All until she hisses out the words, “I am your princess and you will do as I ask.”

The first lick is hesitant, clumsy, his stubble grazed over her most sensitive parts as he slips his tongue across the smoothness of her slit. He doesn’t have an idea of what he’s doing, only enacting the vile things he’s heard men about the castle speak of, how to properly take a woman apart and push her to not only want, but to need.

Mostly, she’s unimpressed.

When he gathers her taste on his tongue, he becomes a man possessed, ripped away from duty and sovereignty and brought down to the lowness of mere swine. He groans into her cunt, laps and suckles at anything his tongue and lips can touch, savors the sight, dewy and swollen when he presses a kiss to the bud that finally does get her to purr.

“Sweet boy..,” she coos to him when her hands find his hair, petting him so gently as he continues to lap at her clit. “You’re taking such good care of your princess, yes?”

His mind blanks entirely, driven forward with a renewed, feverish vigor as he dismantles her wholly with a drooling mouth and an unrelenting stare. Rationality should have pulled him away before it ever got to this point; she’s a peasant, and he can’t run amok fathering bastards and condemning himself to Hell for a simple woman. But that’s all beaten back by her taste, the way she writhes in his hold, keeps whispering her praises and lacing those soft fingers through his hair… no amount of devils or men could pry him from her cunt.

Only she does when her voice comes in a pant and her grip tightens to pull him back. The table, his face, all sticky and wet with what must have been her very essence, drawn out by a man lacking experience but so unknowingly eager.

“Take off your clothes,” comes her next demand, one he obliges with a great hesitance.

The tunic is pulled away with shaking hands, the tie of his trousers next. He mutters a curse below his breath when his cock springs free, so erect and angry it looks painful. The tip drools just as much as that fluttering heaven between her legs, pearly beads of preejaculate leaking down to stain the fabric and further condemn him to this impromptu fate.

He jerks when she wraps her hand around him there, whines when she leans forward to kiss its head.

“I can’t…” His voice sounds weak to his own ears, pathetic and miserable as he makes a mock attempt at prying her away with a gentle press to her shoulder. “My princess… we should not.”

He’s almost certain she’s a devil herself sent to exact some punishment upon him when her lips curl up into a grin and she lies back with her knees drawn to her chest. She speaks such words to him then that he would not dare to ever repeat, songs only the unknown could sing. An angel, perhaps, when she slips a finger into herself to demonstrate to him just what should be done… there, with panting breaths and whispers of heaven.

And finally, when his cock throbs and kicks at the sight, all resolve is entirely lost. He positions himself over her where she guides the tip of his manhood to her slit, praises his size when his hips give an involuntary twitch and he slightly dips into her, sampling her warmth and the resistance from something so thick pressing into her.

His world crumbles at the sensation, cobblestone replaced by the raging heat of brimstone and an obscene lust that clouds his mind and leads him to spear her open to his hilt.

He finds holiness in their union, bites back a roar when her walls tremble around him. She only laughs when his teeth find her shoulder, only sings more hymns into his ear as he fucks into her cunt at a reckless, brutal pace. The words don’t register, far-away and distant amidst the roaring tide of sensation. She’s so tight, so wet and yearning, quivering beneath him and clawing down his back.

“We shouldn’t, hm?,” she whispers in his ear, teeth grazing the lobe. His strokes become even sloppier, each thrust stuttered and heady when the sound of her voice pulls through the haze of bliss. “My sweet boy is so good at this, though…”

His voice is nearly a wail when he loses himself fully then. He holds the back of her thighs, fucks himself through an orgasm that leaves his head spinning and his body shaking as though he’s come down with some wretched fever. And perhaps he is ill, because he can’t bring himself to think of anything more than the divine rapture of stuffing his seed into the warmth of her pussy, can’t bring himself to pull his cock out of her even when he begins to soften.

His face is buried against her neck, professing his endless love as he breathes her in and ruts into her over and over until his cock is once again stiffened and drooling inside of the very cunt he would die to keep.

Surely, when her troupe begins to pack to drift further out into the kingdom for their performances to be seen… he could accuse them of slander, have the old man playing the part of the lecherous king executed, the others thrown into rat-infested cells, and the little princess tethered to his bed to warm his heart and his cock.

He will kiss away her tears, tell her that all could be forgiven if she would only let him make an honest woman of her.

[moonlight-prose]

FIRST LOVE IN THE LATE SPRING AIR

a/n: guess who is back on her joel miller shit again. i had the image of young joel possibly in love and just starting out and had to run with it. after not writing for him for some time, i really did miss this grumpy man. i do have a few fics in the works for him so hopefully this fixation lasts some time. this is an unedited jumble of words so enjoy! divider by the incredible @saradika-graphics.

summary: in the late spring air with summer setting like the sun, life with joel suddenly becomes clear.

word count: 1.6k+

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, fluff, domesticity, she wrote something without angst y'all, allusions to possibly an apocalypse but not really, mentions of pregnancy (don't worry), joel miller being a fucking softie, they're just so in love it's sick.

His sheets clung to your already warm body, molding to the bare skin that scratched along the wrinkled cheap cotton. You asked why he never bought something better, he claimed he didn’t mind how it felt. Of course, that’s how it usually went. Your questions, answered with sarcasm layered in anguish. He never bought more because he never thought he deserved it.

You ignored it for his sake—never pushing further than necessary; he felt like a stone wall at times, and you were the person searching for his cracks. A place to set your hammer into place and swing.

The sun cast shadows in the darkened room, his curtains pulled away to expose the already open window. He was helping his mom fix the air conditioner; you were sweating beneath his covers. The dichotomy felt wrong—too domestic for you to swallow. Yet you drank it down like cold water straight from the tap, already addicted to the way it chilled your insides and pooled in your stomach.

It never occurred to you that the things you did for love would feel silly in ten years time.

But that was in ten years. And this was now.

“I can feel you,” he mumbled into his crushed pillow squished between his arm and cheek. 

You’d been scooting away from him for the past ten minutes. Not because you desired distance—quite the opposite—you couldn’t fathom the way his skin gave off heat. He was a fire waiting to burn you, singe the hair on your arm and beg for more to consume. You were merely asking for reprieve from the suffocating way he felt atop you in the middle of the night.

Spring in Texas was promised to be cool. Sunny air, bright dispositions, and weather you’d find in a luxury brand’s catalog. The kind his mother kept around for you when they arrived in the mail. Yet as soon as May set in, welcoming humanity with open arms and blooming flowers, the heat shoved its way forward. Settling into the air with a vengeance. A promise that you’d suffer through the next few months until you felt defeated enough to beg for winter.

“It’s hot,” you whined, shoving the thin gray sheet off your body. “I need a cold shower.”

“Mm.” His arm slid beneath the covers, tanned skin and already rough fingers reaching out to find you. “Sounds like a good idea.”

You bit back your smile and scooched even closer to the edge of the mattress—your leg halfway off and nearly to the floor. “I meant for me.”

The mess of rumpled brown hair shot up from his pillow, hazy brown eyes catching you in the snare of their web. “You’d leave me outta that?”

“Joel—”

“Cold water and you naked?” He shook his head, flipping onto his back and sitting up before you could get both feet on the floor. “Sorry darlin’. Ain’t happenin’.”

“You’ll distract me.”

He smiled all lazy and warm. Enough to have you considering your chances of braving the overheated bed sheets that still clung to your thigh. Joel in the morning wasn’t a sight to forget so quickly. He looked like he’d been dragged from sleep roughly, as if he’d rather spend hours more in the unconscious state than out with the real world. But when he gazed at you like this—eyes glassy with sleep and lips curled into a soft smile—you finally understood why people died for the ones they love.

“That’s the point.”

How could you argue? When he practically pleaded with you through his gaze alone. His hand grabbed ahold of your upper thigh, fingers digging into the warm flesh in order to yank you closer. Fighting his strength was no use when you were lazy with sleep yourself. Still halfway past the waking point and a dreamland that housed an image of a man who looked oddly like Joel.

Just a few years older.

“What time do you work today?”

He grunted. Awake enough to comprehend you naked, but still far too delirious to realize he’d have to be up in an hour to make it on time. He slept less than he wanted, but on days where the sun was warm and spring beckoned life forward, he didn’t mind so much.

Tommy being away didn’t help the loneliness that had settled on his shoulders within the past few months. His younger brother—the troublemaker. More fuckin’ trouble than he’s worth. Were words Joel was spouting two months ago the night before Tommy’s leave; you caught the pain in his eyes, the dull emptiness that chewed away in his chest.

Despite the multiple jests and bickered words that never quite stuck like they used to—now that they both knew there’d be no time to make up with cheap beer snuck into the backyard and cigarettes Joel claimed weren’t his—Joel would miss his brother.

“Two hours,” he mumbled, rubbing the heel of his hand into his eye.

“Then go back to sleep.”

His gaze narrowed. “You’re gonna have to get back in.”

“Why?” You rolled your eyes, already reaching for his t-shirt tossed to the side last night when silence gave way to heady looks and soft promises beneath the light of the moon.

“Can’t sleep when you’re not here,” he huffed, falling back into the mess of sheets. “Need to feel you.”

An ache pricked at your heart, barely a nick in the fleshy organ, but you knew you’d feel it in a year's time. When life looked different. When life shined a bit brighter and Joel finally started up his business. When those promises came with a feasible future.

Wordlessly, you climbed back underneath the too warm sheet that immediately settled over you like a muggy cloud. But Joel’s hands sliding around your waist, tugging you closer, appeased whatever discomfort that attempted to push through. As if his touch was a promise of protection against the weather’s strange antics. A warning to be careful not to fall in too deeply. Lest you wind up left with a broken barely beating heart and a hollow space where he once occupied.

“What are you doin’ today?” he breathed, his leg sliding between yours, ankle hooking around the back of your calf.

Your hands found their way into the tendrils of his hair that stuck up in the back—curling with the heat. “The diner opens at ten.”

He hummed. “I’ll be there for breakfast.”

“Mr. Miller, what on Earth will people think of us?”

“That you’re my fuckin’ girl.” His eyes fluttered open, lashes longer than yours yet still dainty against his face. “Besides. We always have breakfast together.”

You hummed, bliss soaring in your heart as you shifted closer. Life with Joel must resemble this. Simplicity in such a small bubble of privacy you already created together. Mornings filled with coffee over a shared newspaper, lunch on the phone, dinner in a kitchen that always needed cleaning. Nights on the couch until one (or both) of you fell asleep, until Joel eventually woke, leading you to the mattress that would engulf your hopes and dreams with open arms.

The promise of domesticity with the knowledge that it would always be more.

“I have a question,” you whispered.

“Uh oh.”

An audible groan echoed in the room when your elbow met his stomach lightly. “It’s not a bad one.”

“Then shoot darlin’.”

“Romantic. Cowboy,” you scoffed. “What’s our life gonna be like in five years?”

He stilled. The hand sliding gently along your hip in soothing motions suddenly a heavy press against your waist. And you could feel the weight in your chest begin to sink like an anchor, settling in your stomach with force. Lead, cannonballs, the pain of intestines twisting and twining. It all hit you like a hurricane rushing to the shore, wiping clean every bit of life in its path. There was no swimming away from it, no catching the path of the torrential waves that sucked you under.

You could only wait, breaths measured and heart racing, as he processed your words.

“Got somethin’ to tell me honey?”

The gravity in his eyes nearly floored you—his meaning slamming into you with enough fervor to make you lose your breath. “No! Fuck. No, no, no, no—”

The solemn way he watched you never wavered, even as you breathed a laugh in the hopes of moving on quickly. “Definitely not that.” You sucked in a breath, lighter than before. “I just meant…what will we be in five years?”

His lips twitched, hand sliding even lower in order to cup your ass. “Hopefully that.”

“Joel—”

“I love you darlin’.” Something familiar—warm like the soothing balm of the sun caressing your skin in the afternoon—bloomed in your chest. Enough to make you nearly tear up. “That ain’t gonna change in one year or five or ten or even twenty.”

“Yeah?” you murmured, curling in so close your lips brushed his. “You sure you won’t get sick of me?”

He huffed, lips capturing yours briefly as his eyes slid closed. “Can’t get sick of somethin’ I’m addicted to.”

You laughed into the kiss, eyes daring a glimpse at his serene expression. “I’ll hold you to that in twenty years Miller.”

“Good.” His face dug into the crook of your neck, body wrapped around yours. “Means you’ll be around.”

The sheet lay above your heads, forming a haven you had no desire to leave. A space that breathed whispers of a future you could finally form a picture of. What once existed in a dreamscape you often habited on nights spent grasping for more than simply one spring and summer, now turned physical. Slowly shaping that malleable past that led you to right here.

[moonstruckme]

Would you be willing to do a bodyguard!Sirius fic where they’re both pining and there’s so much cute banter but then something real goes down and Sirius goes into full guard dog protective mode, soft with reader and aggressive to anyone else??????

Thanks love!

cw: violence

bodyguard!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” you say, trying again to steal the handles of your shopping bags from Sirius’ grasp. He holds them away from you, the wind of a passing car barely moving the bags with all the clothes weighing them down. 

“Careful, or I’ll accidentally drop them in the street,” he teases, bringing the bags back to his side. He’s carrying three in one hand, the other kept free as a precaution. “And you’re not actually that difficult to persuade, dollface. You know a reasonable argument when you hear it.” 

You scoff. “How is ‘buy six of the same top’ a reasonable argument?” 

“Because it looks good on you, and they had it in six colors. Easy.” 

“But red? I look awful in red.” 

“You don’t look awful, ever.” Sirius makes a derisive sound. “You’re just not used to seeing yourself in red. You look good in every color.” 

You roll your eyes, about to retort when a shout rings out behind you. You turn, Sirius placing a protective hand on your arm, but it does nothing to stop the momentum of the figure running at you. 

The air is knocked out of you as a masked man barrels into your middle, barely slowing as he throws you over his shoulder. 

Sirius yells, and you look up to see he’s dropped the bags and is wrestling a knife away from his neck—your heart lurches—twisting the wrist of another man until he drops it. 

A third is running behind you. They’re all wearing ski masks. The one you can see barely has the holes over his eyes, like he’d pulled it on hastily before running at you. 

He reaches up to press a cloth to your mouth. Your arms are pinned by the hold of the man carrying you, but you kick and buck for all you’re worth, thrashing your head about until the guy behind you gives up and lowers the cloth. 

You suck in air to scream, and something crashes into you from the side. Your face smashes into the ground. You twist onto your side as quickly as you can, hands up to ward off the new threat, but this new person isn’t masked. The third man, the one who’d put the cloth to your mouth, hesitates less than a second before taking off, another member of your detail digging her knee into the first man’s back as she works to pin his arms behind him. A second later, and Mark—who must have been the first shout you heard, he was supposed to be guarding your back—is there with her, helping to wrestle your attacker’s hands into zip-ties. You think distantly that you’d always considered them carrying zip-ties ridiculous, because what would they need those for? Now you know. 

A hand grips your chin, and then you’re looking into Sirius’ worried gray eyes. “Are you okay?” he pants. His voice is rough and curt, at odds with the gentleness of his touch on your face. 

“I—” You glance to the man beside you, who’s gone obstinately silent as your two other guards fire questions at him. 

“Hey.” Sirius’ voice is near pleading. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you manage. “Yeah.” 

His shoulders slump in relief, but none of the tension leaves his face. “Mark!” he barks towards the other two. “Julie’s got him, go get the other guy.” 

Mark nods and takes off in the direction the third man had run, and Sirius turns back to you, the crease between his brows not leaving but gentling. “I saw them put something on your face. You didn’t breathe in?” 

“I didn’t,” you confirm. Just like he’d taught you, back when you’d thought his little lessons would always be pointless. 

“Good girl.” He takes your face in both hands, pressing a firm kiss between your brows. “Great job, sweetheart, that’s not easy.” 

Movement from your left makes you flinch, and you look over to see Julia trying to wrangle your attacker—now unmasked, and all but snarling at you—into the van. In a flash, Sirius is between you. 

“Keep fucking looking at her like that, and see what happens.” His voice is the kind of cold where even snow won’t fall. Even though you’re the one he’s protecting, you go rigid. 

The man’s expression goes slack, and he’s dumbstruck enough for Julia to get him the rest of the way into the van with little hassle. Sirius turns back to you, the severity melting from his features. 

“Sorry, baby.” The pet name seems to slip out unbidden, and he almost flinches himself, shying away from you as if embarrassed. The next words come quieter. “Sometimes you have to be extra harsh with these guys, but I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“You didn’t,” you say, and you mean it, the sheepishness in his expression unfamiliar but somewhat comforting considering the equally alien ferocity you’d just witnessed. 

“Fuck, you’re shaking all over,” he breathes, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you to him. It’s an awkward sort of hug, you sitting and Sirius crouched so that both of your legs get in the way, but he makes the most of it, scrubbing his hand up and down on your shoulder blade with reassuring firmness. 

You close your eyes, relishing the contact, the safety of his touch. Then you remember the knife. You open your eyes as he pulls back, finding the tiny line of red over his Adam's apple. 

“Are you okay?” It’s little more than a croak, tears coming unbidden to clog your throat. 

“Me?” He follows your gaze, touching two fingers to the mark. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, it’s just a graze. It’s nothing. Your cheek, though…” He looks crestfallen. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. This should never have happened.” 

“I’m okay,” you promise him, though now that he mentions it, your cheek is stinging. You must have scraped it on the sidewalk. It feels raw. “I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder, my arms—”

“You did everything you could,” he says firmly. “Listen, of course I want you to fight like hell in any situation like that—and you did a great job of it—but it’s my job to make sure you never have to.”

“It was bound to happen eventually,” you say quietly, and something like pain passes across Sirius’ face. He rubs your shoulder delicately. 

“Not today,” he says, matching your volume. 

Maybe not today, you think, but would it matter if it had happened tomorrow instead? He’d always blame himself. “Agree to disagree?” 

“Easy for you to say.” He grins sharply, back to the joking boy you know. “You’re not the one who’s going to get yelled at by Remus when he sees what’s happened to your face.” 

“I’ll get him to lay off,” you reassure him. 

“Yeah, good fucking luck with that.”

[2kmps]

NIGHTFALL

elk god x reader | wc 746

synopsis: you're a ranger always volunteering to take on the nightshift and no one wants to know why.

a/n: just a little practice piece. not proofread. no pertinent warnings. @vincentvalenfine , ty for the request!

No one dared to ask questions of you when you had volunteered to take up the lonesome night shift at the ranger’s station.

Workplace superstition wasn’t one to discriminate, whether that meant you were tweaking a bullet out of someone's chest in the operating room; sterile gowns splattered with carmine like a rorschach inkblot, adrenaline dampening the noise in the room while the surgeons honed into that sweet spot of impenetrable focus, or you were reclined in a creaky wooden chair, prodding agitatedly at your phone screen with a thumb because the service had turned to shit for the fifth time that night.

The reason why you were so adamant to burden the staggering quietness of the Atticus Forest behind aluminum walls that'd amplify the whispering winds and long claws of trees’ appendages trying to gain purchase into the metal went unchallenged, incurious—if no one knew why, they would be spared of knowing about you, bonding with you, catching your eye and expected to act in sympathy if you were to ever change your mind about the arrangement.

You, however, used the cover of nightfall, the endless shroud of darkness produced from a sprawling canopy of lush treetops to roam freely, uninhibited by the daytime shuffle of campers and hikers and other rangers scouting the trails for no-good-doers.

Every night you wandered out some ways from the station, somewhat nettled by the fact you were leashed from going far from the radio, needing to standby in case of contact, and whistled tunefully. It was a sweet sound that aroused the owls and sleeping doves, sometimes the tree frogs would chirp after you, suddenly turning the vast, placid place into a euphony of colorful sounds.

Only when the forest was at its noisiest did he come out from hiding. He did not know shame or fear of the sun, nor quail at the concept of walking among humans, but he preferred to share the forest with the untamed creatures and your company alone. 

“Orruth,” you greeted the lumbering thing as he came away from the trees; the gray of his skin, and gleaming white elk skull were a seamless blend in the inky black all around. “Are you in the mood to walk tonight?”

He did not speak any human tongue, not any that you were aware of at any rate. You were no linguist, but the things he said couldn’t have been mistaken as latin nor some other dead language from forgotten empires and cultures buried by concrete and gentrification. They were guttural, strong echoes that anchored you with awe, overwhelmed by power, the unfathomable words of an ancient who always tried so desperately to converse with you. There could never be a middle-ground between what he said and what you understood because you were never meant to know.

So, he whined instead, lowered his hulking form close to the ground for you to reach his face. You felt the fissures in his long nose, how dry and brittle the bone felt under your fingertips and observed the glowing pupils within hollow sockets staring back at you. Apart from his arms and legs, which were long, sinewy, and gray, his head floated mysteriously by a thick vapor you had ever shied from touching and he seemed to not want you to touch.

“I heard a complaint about a fire about eight kilometers away. I'm hoping it's just a few campers thinking they're above the law of the land, but we can never be too sure.” You explained this while he tucked the flat bone of his nose into your chest, mindful of the sprawl of his antlers as you adjusted to petting him around the eye sockets. “We keep finding animals—gored, disemboweled, almost ritualistically at some campsites. If your old followers keep this up, they may try to ban people from camping out here at all.”

He would probably like that, you thought in hindsight once he had had his fill and pulled away from you. In his own tongue, he tried to say something else. It remained indecipherable to you, but you could have from how he nearly flattened his body to the ground that he was offering you a ride.

“Just try not to throw me into a bunch of tree branches again, yeah?” you sat on the broad shelf of one of his shoulders, arms wound in the network of forks and beams of his antlers as he rose to full height, walking onward off the trail and through the trees towards distant piles of smoke.

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

Into You

Pairing: EddieMunsonxReader

Summary: You've been pining for your brother's best friend for a while. When he stops over and no one else is home, you decide it's time to finally make a move.

18+ Only

“Hey princess Harrington. Where’s your brother?”

You pulled your sunglasses down, resting them on the tip of your nose, to find your favorite metalhead grinning at you. Still rocking jeans even though it was ninety degrees because he couldn’t tarnish that image he’d worked so hard to build. The gray tee he was wearing was fitted, the material thin, not leaving much to the imagination. He was filling that shirt out, even with his lean frame, that slim waist. It was as if the shirt was just a thin mask hiding everything you’d fantasized of so many nights while alone in your bed, fingers buried deep within you, whimpering his name into your pillow. 

Eddie Munson had been tormenting your thoughts for the past three years, ever since he’d become friends with your brother, Steve. You’d been away at college and when you came home to find this long-haired, doe-eyed, rockstar in denim and leather standing in your parents house, looking entirely out of place, an insistent pulsing had begun between your legs that had yet to cease. 

It was like a fire was kindled inside of you, a fire that only burned brighter with each interaction, until it was a raging inferno that threatened to consume you. You would do anything to be close to him. You craved him like a goddamn drug. Every part of you ached with it. The mix of longing and desire that had been torturing you for years was making you insane and maybe, given this opportunity, it was finally time to do something about it. 

You leaned back on the pool lounger, raising one arm above your head, flashing him a smile. You were glad you’d decided to wear your little red bikini today instead of that horrid tropical print one piece your mom had bought for you. You didn’t miss how his eyes roamed from your head to your little purple painted toenails. 

“He’s not here,” you told him. “In fact, nobody’s here but me for the whole day. I’m all by me lonesome.”

“Oh poor you,” Eddie mused, his tongue slipping between his teeth to run over his bottom lip. “I am sure you’re hating having this big ass house all to yourself.”

“I’m quite good at keeping myself amused. But, there is something I can’t do all by myself.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” His head tilted to the side, lips curving up on one side with amusement.

“I can’t get the suntan lotion on my back,” you pouted. “Do you think you could help me out? I mean, you wouldn’t want me to burn out here in this hot sun, would you?”

“No, we can’t have that,” Eddie chuckled, taking the bottle you were holding out. “Sit up for me princess so I can reach.”

You leaned forward, sliding yourself along the lounger. Eddie swung one leg over, sitting directly behind you. Grabbing your hair in your fist, you draped it over your shoulder. The sound of the lotion squirting into his hand had you quivering with anticipation already, eager for those hands to be on your skin. 

“Here?” he asked, rough fingertips roaming along your upper back, between your shoulder blades, thumbs digging into the flesh, pressing deliciously into tense muscles. 

“Mmmhmm…” you murmured, your body vibrating with desire. “Lower too…”

His hands ran over your skin, leaving a trail of flame everywhere he touched. Fingers danced along the top of your bikini bottom and your hips rolled, your clit pressing against the tightly thatched material, the sensation causing a small moan to fall, unbidden, from your lips. 

“Damn sweetheart, when you make such pretty sounds just from me touching your back, it makes me wonder what other sounds I can get you to make.”

“Yes,” you gasped, every part of you alive with energy, ready to burst out of your skin. You needed him to keep touching you. You felt you would spontaneously combust if he stopped. 

“M’kay,” he rumbled, his voice deep and rough against your ear as those fingers trailed along your spine, slipping beneath the strap of your bikini top. 

Your heart rate accelerated, pounding incessantly in your chest, so loud you were sure the whole town could hear it. His fingers moved along your ribs, tracing the string of your bikini to the front. Your face was hot, breathing quick and shallow, the lightest touch enough to take your breath away. 

Then his hands slid under the triangles of your bikini, covering your breasts and you collapsed back against him, moaning soft and low. His fingers pinched and rolled, teasing your nipples into hard peaks of desire, your center pulsing with hunger, craving to get the same treatment. Your back arched, pressing against him and Eddie chuckled roughly. 

“Mmm, such a needy little baby, aren’t we?” he teased, squeezing and kneading the flesh of your breasts. “You make such pretty sounds, princess. Let’s see what other sounds we can get you to make.”

Warm flesh and cool metal wound around your throat, pulling your head back even further. His lips latched onto your neck, suckling just over your pulse point. Your hips rocked, needy, wanting, made even worse when your grinding forced a growl from the hard body behind you, his teeth raking over the tender flesh. 

Keeping a grip on your throat, his other hand roamed along your stomach, fingers teasing just above the top of your bikini bottom. You lifted your hips, yearning for him to touch you the way you’d always fantasized about. You could feel his grin against the skin of your shoulder as he slipped two fingers underneath the fabric, moving achingly slow toward where you need him most.

“So eager. If I would have known you wanted it this bad, I would have given it to you long before now,” Eddie rasped. Slipping through your slick, he moaned. “Fuck me. You’re always so damn wet.”

You wailed when his thumb brushed over your clit. He teased it as his tongue played along your ear. Keeping his thumb on your clit, two thick fingers slipped inside of you, stretching you out, bringing you to levels of pleasure you didn’t know existed. Your body instantly responded, grinding your hips up and against his hand, seeking out the relief it so desperately needed.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” he murmured, nose brushing along your neck, shivers racing along your spine. “Can’t wait to have that tight little pussy around my cock. You want that?”

“Mmmhmm…” you whimpered, gasping when his fingers spread apart, scissoring within you, stretching you out even further as if he were prepping you. 

“Gonna need to hear the words, princess. Come on. Tell me what you want.”

“I…want…fuuucckk….I want you to fuck me…” you mewled, rocking your head, hair plastered to your head as Eddie curled his fingers, reaching that spot that had you seeing white. Your eyes rolled back, short, hard breaths pounding in your chest as the roller coaster that was your orgasm started cresting the hill, prepared to drop you in a rush of pleasure. 

“Of course you do, dirty little thing,” he rasped. “You been dreaming about this, sweetheart? Thinking about my cock? My fingers?”

“Yes,” you cried, your stomach knotting, muscles tensing. You could feel the blood racing through your veins. Your skin felt electric, alive. “I’ve been wanting this for so long…”

“You should have something. I’m always happy to help a lady in need.” Your walls clenched around his fingers, your body vibrating, on the verge of release. “Oh, you gonna cum for me, baby? You gonna cum all over my fingers?”

“Oh shit…oh fuck…oh god…Eddie…” you whimpered, hips rocking against his hand with abandon. 

“That’s it, pretty girl. Turn your head for me. I wanna see your face when I give you the best orgasm you ever had.”

Your head rolled, obeying his command, willing to give him anything he wanted as long as he didn’t stop. You were so close. That roller coaster was tipping over the edge. Your hands grabbed onto his arms, gripping hard as you screamed, your entire body tensing before collapsing into a puddle against him. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praised, slowly removing his fingers from inside you. He brought them to his mouth, sucking your pleasure from them. “Mmm…you taste so good, sweetheart. I’m going to need to bury my face between those thighs sometime.”

Just like that, your thighs pressed together, your center already aching again just at his words. Eddie stood up from the lounger, hands coming to his belt, unfastening it and undoing the button. He slid the zipper down and pushed his boxers and his pants just down off his hips. Taking your hand, he helped you to your feet and then laid down, opening his arms wide. 

“You want my cock? It’s yours for the taking, princess. Show me how badly you need it.”

You slipped your bottoms off and straddled his hips, struggling to process that this was all happening and not just another of your delusional fantasies. You were actually getting what you wanted, what you’d been craving. Eddie Munson had gotten you off and it had been even better than you’d imagined and now you were going to ride him like a fucking pony. 

He held his cock in his hand as you slowly lowered yourself over top of him. He was thick, stretching you wide with each inch and you took in a bit at a time until he bottomed out, your ass snuggled against his thighs. You placed your hands on his chest, eyes slipping closed, just savoring the feel of him inside you. 

“Jesus Christ…I knew you’d feel fucking amazing,” he groaned, his hands running along your thighs to grip your hips. “Come on, sweetheart. Fuck me the way you’ve fantasized about.”

“Oh, I’ve fantasized about fucking you every way possible. Most of the time it’s you fucking me.”

“Mmm…we’ll get there. I will fuck you every goddamn way you want.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Eddie,” you grunted as you began to rock your hips, each forward motion grinding your clit against his pelvis, drawing a moan from you. 

“Shit…” he groaned, fingers pressing into your skin as his eyes devoured the sight of you fucking him, taking charge of your own pleasure. “I will keep this one.” His hands slipped along your body, cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. “Fuck baby. These are the most perfect damn tits I’ve ever seen. Always figured they would be. Easy enough to tell when you prance around in those…ahh…” He paused, teeth clenching as you switched up the motion, your hips rolling in circles. “When you prance around in those tight little tops but they’re even better than I imagined.”

“You imagined me?” you choked out, slipping your hands under his shirt, tracing your fingers over his lean frame, his belly that was thin but still soft, that soft strip of hair along his pelvis. 

“Fuck yes. You think you’re the only one who’s fantasized about this? Sweetheart, I’ve been dreaming of fucking you since that first day you came down the stairs, those sweet little tits bouncing with every step.”

The knowledge that he’d wanted you too filled your belly with heat. A confidence you hadn’t had before took over. Gripping his chest, you used your feet to lift yourself until just the tip of him was within you and then you slowly sunk onto him once again. He released the most delicious sound you’d ever heard so you did it again. His eyes slipped closed, hands coming to your shoulders in an attempt to keep himself sheathed within you. 

Your hand wound into his hair, pulling, “Open your eyes. I want you looking at me when I make you cum harder than you ever have.”

“Fuck yes, princess,” he growled, following your command, brown eyes dark with lust gazing right into yours. 

You kept your hips nestled against him, rocking forward and back once again. The consistent friction of his pelvis, the coarse hair rubbing over your clit was sending that coaster rocketing back up that hill. Eddie’s hands gripped your waist, holding on but not controlling, allowing you to be in charge. 

“I’m so close, princess,” he ground out between clenched teeth, the muscle in his jaw jumping. “Just like that, baby. Don’t fucking stop…”

“Come on, big boy,” you urged, tugging his hair again, earning a grunt of pleasure. “Cum for me. Fill me up, baby. Let me feel it.”

“Jesus…fuck me…shit…son of…biiitttccchhh!” 

His face screwed up tight as he held onto your waist. His hips lifted off the lounger, thrusting into you hard as he spilled his release into you. You yanked at his hair, your back arching as you quickly followed, crying out his name. 

“Jesus Christ…holy shit…fuck…” he muttered, flopping back onto the lounger, his chest heaving beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. “That was…fuck, that was definitely the hardest orgasm I’ve ever had. You’re like fucking magic, baby.” 

You giggled and he grabbed onto your arms, pulling you down to him, pressing his lips to yours. A feeling of shock ran through you as you realized this was your first kiss. After everything you’d just done, that seemed ridiculous but jesus if those lips weren’t just as plush and soft and yummy as you’d always dreamed. You could gladly spend the rest of your life just kissing Eddie. 

“Mmm…sweetheart, I can’t wait to find out what else you’ve fantasized about.”

“Oh, you might have your work cut out for you. I’ve envisioned doing just about everything with you. Some of it’s pretty damn dirty.”

“I’m not scared of getting a little dirty, baby,” he grinned, his lips finding yours again. 

[itiswormtimebaby]

Here’s what I’m thinking about:

Biker!Bucky (who also happens to be your brother’s best friend) comforting you when you accidentally get way too high and think you’re going to die. 

TW: Recreational drug use (weed), talks of death (reader feels like they’re dying), virgin reader, suggestive

The illicit baked goods were handed over with very clear instructions, only eat HALF. But you were so hungry, and the brownie was surprisingly good, and what would really be the harm in eating a whole instead of a half? Death. Inevitable death would be the harm. 

There’d been a very pleasant twenty-five minutes where it felt as if you were dancing on air, now you could barely get any- breathing shallow, chest tight, head heavy. This was it. Goodbye, cruel world. You knew there was little to be done so you decided to embrace the inevitable, if you acted quickly maybe you could go in your sleep. So you filled your cats food bowl, pressed a quick kiss to her head, and crawled into your hammock to await the end- but wait, wait you couldn’t go with regrets, that was a sure fire way to come back as a ghost and you did not want to haunt your crappy walk up forever. No, no regrets. 

So you called James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky, your brother’s Bucky. Bucky who lived only a few blocks away, Bucky who could send you off without regret. He picked up on the third ring, and didn’t get much in edgewise after a hesitant “Hello?” 

“Bucky! Bucky I’m dying and I need you to come over right now. The doors unlocked.” You’d hung up before he could ask any questions, best to save your breath, you reasoned. For his part Bucky had politely but firmly asked the girl currently occupying his bed to leave, and made for the door, tugging on gray sweats as he went. While he was positive your dumb ass wasn’t dying he wasn’t willing to leave you in a distressed state. 

When he kicked off his bike and made it inside he’d found you curled up in your hammock, clinging to your cat, eyes squeezed shut; he’d grabbed your attention with a gruff “Bug?” You’d shot up, furry feline friend taking off with a displeased hiss at the sudden rocking motion; “Thank God, Bucky! Get over here, I don’t have much time.” He’d crouched down next to your hammock, bringing his cool metal hand to your cheek, brushing away some stray hairs and taking note of your blown out pupils; “What the fuck are you on?”

“It- it was supposed to only be half the brownie, but I ate it all, I’m such an idiot and now-” He bit back a laugh realizing you were just stoned off your ass, not wanting to add insult to injury as your eyes welled with tears “-now I’m dying but I can’t go yet, Buck, I can’t, because if I die full of regrets I’ll have to haunt this stupid place forever.” 

“For Christ’ sake, Bug, you’re not dying, you’re just stoned.” 

With an adamant shake of your head you reached down and grabbed his flesh hand, pressing the palm of it flat to your chest as the tears in your eyes finally spilled over with a warbling hiccup; “I- I’m not, I am but I’m not- I know what death feels like.”

His mouth popped open in mock surprise; “Oh, you do? Because you’ve experienced it so many times?” 

Your bottom lip quivered as you glowered pathetically at him, “D-don’t be mean to me. Not right now.” Torn between pushing the issue and humoring you he chose to go with the latter. 

“Okay then, Bug, no regrets. How can I help?” 

With a small watery smile you turned in the hammock to fully face his kneeling form; “We’ve got to have sex-”

“Jesus fuck!” Your sincere expression, tear stained cheeks, and glassy eyes awakened something dark within him, pleasure spiking within his groin and pulling him to half mass even as he adamantly shook his head no. Seeing his refusal you began teetering on the brink of tears again; “Please Bucky, please, you have to fuck me, it has to be you. I don’t want to die a virgin and I love y-” 

Quicker than your sluggish brain could process the cool fingers of his left hand wrapped around your mouth, silencing you as his other hand smoothed across the top of your head and down to cup your cheek, thumb stroking it in small even passes. He took three steadying breaths, eyes clenched shut, before he met your gaze; “Shut up. We are not having this conversation right now.” You whined behind the gag of his hand, but he just shook his head firmly in return, so much for humoring you. “Bug, you are high as a fucking kite. So here’s what’s going to happen; I’m going to go get you a drink, and then you’re going to sleep. End of.”

He stood abruptly, moving towards the door of the bedroom as you pleaded with him to come back and take you, promising he could do whatever he wanted as long as he was inside you. You didn’t stop rambling until he stormed back in with a glass of water, towering over your prone form. “Listen to me,” he hissed “when I finally fuck you the only thing you’ll be high on is my cock, so do me a favor and shut the fuck up about it so I can take care of you until then.” 

AN: In hindsight I’ve taken some liberties with the use of the word “comforting.” 

[runningfrom2am]

what happened to lucy gray baird // LTPF

summary: what became of lucy gray baird and sejanus plinth? you finally get some answers after sixty-five years.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.8k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. this is kinda sad btw. just a heads up.

a/n: happy birthday to my bestie @that-veela-girl ! this was requested by her bc we talked ab this AT LENGTH in an ask and we just needed to see it fleshed out. also bestie i made some minor changes i hope that's okay with you ahhh

series masterlist // playlist

Lucy Gray stumbled up to the cabin, hours after she was certain you and Coriolanus had left. Her heart had finally stopped pounding, and the bullet wound that only just grazed her back was still burning. Trying to stop the bleeding was hard when she was all alone.

She takes deep breaths, sighing in relief as she opens the cabin door in the dark of the night. She was free, or so she hoped. She peaked in, gasping as she saw your figure asleep on the makeshift bed, Coriolanus's scarf gripped in your hands held up just in front of your face as the moonlight seeped in through the open door. She couldn't believe she had considered you a friend.

You looked so peaceful as you slept. Harmless, even. But she knew better. She closed the door quietly, begging the universe to keep you asleep long enough for her to get away. Where you were, Coriolanus Snow was never far behind. Lucy Gray quietly stalked off into the woods past the cabin, leaving any hope of returning to the lake or the cabin behind. She would go North, just like the original plan.

After hours of walking in the dark, the day would break- finally. Finally, she could breathe again. The sun was still rising when the smell of smoke reached her, making her furrow her brow as she looked around. Up ahead, between the trees, there was a fire sizzling out, coals still burning just enough to illuminate the area around it. She hears a twig snap a ways to her left and quickly jumps behind a tree to hide, heart racing and forcing her blood to start to seeping from her back again. She could feel it.

"Lucy Gray?" The use of her name makes her tense up, and she doesn't dare peak out of her hiding spot. "Lucy Gray, is that you?"

She knows that voice, but it's not Coriolanus, and it's certainly not you, but the Capitol accent still has the hairs on the back of her neck raising.

"It's Sejanus, you don't have to hide. I'm not gonna hurt you." Her eyes shut tightly. That's exactly what you had said to her before you tried to kill her. She couldn't trust Capitol folk. Not anymore.

"Lucy Gray..." The footsteps get closer. "I thought you were dead. She tried to kill me, too."

Lucy Gray opens her eyes, holding her breath as she peeks around the side of the tree trunk. Sejanus is there, several feet away with his hands held out to show her he meant no harm. "I'm not going to hurt you." He says again.

Taking a shaky breath she nods, stepping out from her hiding place but keeping her distance. "She tried to kill you?" She asks him. "You weren't there when we arrived... I thought you didn't make it."

"I was there. Just went to scout out what our path should be." He explains. "I heard it all. What he did to you..."

Lucy Gray shakes her head, looking down at her feet. "I thought I could trust 'em."

"I did too." He replies quietly. "They were my best friends. My only friends. They tricked us both, huh?" He laughs dryly, shaking his head.

"Apparently." Lucy Gray mumbles.

"Come. Sit. You must be exhausted." He nods for her to follow him back to his little camp where he had the fire going.

"I just want to know why." Sejanus mumbles after close to an hour of silence, both of them sat quietly by the now dying fire.

Lucy Gray stays silent, just nodding as she stares into the orange coals. "I should have seen it sooner. She was just so... odd. So back and forth. I should have known when she flipped a switch and turned into a whole new person when she showed up at the hob."

"You wouldn't believe the things I've seen that girl do." Sejanus agrees, tossing a stick onto the rubble of the fire. "She's crazy. I always thought that was a good thing, she stood up for herself, she wouldn't go down without a fight to get anything she wanted. She'd scream and throw things like no one's business when someone said something she didn't like. Lucy Gray, you have no idea."

"But you were friends with her. Why?"

"Why were you?" He asks, turning to her and raising an eyebrow.

Lucy Gray opens her mouth to answer, but she can't bring herself to say what she wants to.

"I get it." He admits. "She's good when she wants to be. I've seen both sides of her. She's... Complicated, but at the end of the day, I'm not much different than her. She's braver. Much, much braver, though. I mean, I've seen her get violent before, but nothing like that. I could never hurt anyone."

"They deserve each other." Lucy Gray mutters, and Sejanus hums in quiet agreement.

Snow littered the grounds of the presidential palace on the day Sejanus Plinth and Lucy Gray returned to the Capitol.

The whole building had a chill that stung Sejanus down to his core as he was lead through the large halls, the building more lifeless than it had ever been. Quiet. Haunting.

When he thought back on his life in the Capitol, a full lifetime ago, he did imagine at the time that you and Coriolanus would occupy the space; filling it with life and tones of red and laughter and love, despite everything the Capitol leaders had done. He had hope back then that you would have done better.

The guards open the doors to what appears to be a bedroom, large with endless opulent decor and a patio overlooking the back of the property.

He doesn't say anything when he enters and the doors are shut promptly behind him. He turns, seeing the guards had entered now. Likely, in an effort to protect him.

"Leave us, please." He prompts them quietly, voice rough from nothing more than the decades that had passed. The guards look confused, but obey anyways. Sejanus had been on the receiving end of your anger before, and he was one of few who lived to tell the tale. You wouldn't hurt him.

You were sitting at the window, looking out at the snow falling over your garden. You turn your head when you hear his voice, eyes already wide. You stand up slowly, holding the arm rest of the chair as you stare at him in shock. "Sejanus?" You ask, but it comes out more as a comment.

"Y/N." He smiles. Smiles. You could be sick.

You're not sure if this is a fault in your medication- if you had been distributed too many by Thirteens doctors and you were losing your mind, or if Sejanus Plinth was truly standing in front of you right now. You let out the slightest laugh from shock, eyes welling up with tears.

"It's good to see you." He says, taking steps toward you, hands held behind his back. He was older, like you, but you didn't have a doubt in your mind that it was him.

He had survived. All this time.

"Oh my..." You shake your head in disbelief as he opens his arms to you. After all this time- after what you did, something so long forgotten from your memory, he was greeting you with a hug.

You hug him back, once again unsure whether or not this was real. Perhaps this was the afterlife, and you had been executed by something so boring as an untraceable overdose. You certainly hoped not.

"Sejanus..." You cry, patting his arms as you pull away and looking him up and down.

"I'm sorry." He mumbles, almost inaudible to you even from right there.

"Sorry?" You reply, that same dry laugh falling from your lips. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I... You're alive. I'm proud."

"I'm sorry it had to end like this." He clarifies and you look down, then cast your gaze out the window.

"Yes, well... we have never been well liked." You admit.

"You were by me."

"But not anymore?"

He doesn't respond, motioning for you to sit down as he pulls over his own chair to sit across from you. You both sit down, and you continue to stare out the window.

"We had a good life. He gave me everything I have ever wanted." You sigh. "I apologize... for what we did that day. I have felt a great deal of... guilt, over it. I hope you know."

He nods, keeping his pleasant shock to himself. You were sorry. He didn't expect so much from you after what he had seen and heard of your actions over the years. "Why did you let us go?" He asked, and you look over at him again, your face falling into one of confusion.

"Us?"

"Me and Lucy Gray."

"Lucy Gray..." You mumble. "That's a name I haven't heard in years." You shake your head, hurt building up inside you. It doesn't settle well. "Not since Coryo told me that he had buried her."

This wasn't true, of course, you had brought her up a small handful of times since, but that was when you were under the assumption that she was under the brush in the woods of District Twelve by the cabin at the lake.

Sejanus's eyebrows raise. "I... No. She escaped. She is alive, too." He says, trying to gauge your reaction, but you keep much of your emotions to yourself. All that gave you away was the tear that fell down your cheek as you stared down at the greenhouse.

"I see."

"You are scheduled for execution tomorrow afternoon." He states. "Coryo will be the following day. Coin wants him to be hurt by your passing, there will be a big celebration and they want him to be a witness."

"A celebration." You chuckle, wiping your tear away. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

"Wouldn't you prefer to go together?"

The way you hesitate is what he knows is his ticket in. "That would be preferable." You say after a moment. "But we will be together soon, regardless."

"I have spoken to some people from Thirteen, and they are willing to let you go." He tells you, and you shake your head before you even think about it.

"No. I will not be happy without him."

"I think that's a hasty assessment." When you don't respond, your pride refusing to let you admit anything different, he continues. "Is that true? Or are you just so used to being with him that you can't imagine being happy without him?"

"He is my whole world, Sejanus." You answer honestly. You hadn't known anything different since you were eighteen years old.

"Y/N, one of the things I remember the most about you is that you won't let anyone get in the way of what you want. You've always been a true independent." He reminds you.

You're silent for a moment, reeling over the realization of what Coriolanus had truly done. To him, it was likely a harmless lie to keep you calm. To be able to leave you out there at the lake for days without fear, and it worked. But it could have cost you your life, if Lucy Gray was more vicious than she was.

"Lucy Gray saw you, in the cabin." Sejanus tells you, almost tracking your thought process. "That he had left you out there alone. She said you had never looked more peaceful than when you were sleeping."

Your blood runs cold and you slightly shake your head. He just confirmed your fears, and you think he knew that. She could have killed you, but she didn't. You were just as lucky to be alive as he was, and it was at the fault of your beloved husband.

"I never forgot what you did for me. You saved my life, then you could have killed me, and I count myself lucky everyday that I had made a friend in you." Sejanus says, reeling you in further. "And I just want to offer you that same freedom now. I know you deserve it."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, eyes still locked on the snow coated greenhouse outside. "I have some conditions."

After he leaves, you are escorted outside and down to the garden. You would spend what was meant to be your final night there, with your husband.

You wanted to hate him for lying to you, you really did, but you couldn't. If you were to hate him for anything he had done, that would have happened years ago.

"My execution is this afternoon." You say to Coryo, approaching him as he admires some of the roses.

He hums in response as you join his side, picking one of the delicate flowers and holding it out to you with a gloved hand. You smile as you accept it.

"We were happy, weren't we?" You say softly, smiling down at the rose in your hand.

"Indeed." He grins, looking at you now.

"We took a lot of risks, and that rewarded us."

He smiles. "I would say so."

It was the end and he knew it. There was no use in fighting anymore.

"Would you have done anything differently?" You ask him, taking a seat on the bench next to you.

"Maybe I would have let you step in to prevent that stunt those kids pulled last year." He comments, sitting next to you. "But when it comes to us... no. Not a thing."

You nod slightly, looking down. "Sejanus is alive." You tell him.

"Is he really?"

"Yes. I just spoke with him."

"What did he have to say?" Your husband asks.

In the very same way that he never told you about Lucy Gray, you never told him you let Sejanus go either. Were you really any better than him? "That he is sorry." You answer simply.

"Well, he got what he wanted." He replies. "He shouldn't apologize for that. We never have."

"I agree, but he was more sorry for us." You explain, reaching out to take his hand beside you. "That it had to end this way."

"I see."

"I only wish that our children would have had a better chance." You say softly. You gave them everything- they were spoiled rotten their whole lives and prepared to take your place, but they would never get that chance. They were to be executed just after you, if Coin got her way.

"We gave them everything we could. This is not our fault."

"No." You agree. "It isn't."

"What about Cecelia?" He asks quietly. Your granddaughter was extremely special to the both of you, to him especially. She looked just like you, and every time he looked at her it's all he could see.

"Sejanus agreed that she will be well cared for." You promise, squeezing his hand. "She'll be okay."

He nods slightly. "She looks more and more like you every day." He says, unable to help it. "I remember you, when we were her age."

You smile at the memories, nodding. "I miss those days."

"I hope you know how incredibly proud I am of you, darling." He admits, voice cracking as he looks at you. "I feel as if I didn't tell you enough."

"You showed me every day." You promise, patting your other hand over his. "You were the best person I could have had by my side all these years."

"I love you." He says, and you lean your head on his shoulder.

"I love you too." You didn't want to talk anymore- you felt so incredibly guilty for deciding to leave him. It was betrayal. Maybe that is what would kill you.

You only have a few minutes before the glass doors are cracked open, and you look up. You know it's time. Commander Paylor is standing there with some guards, and she just nods at you.

You stand carefully, squeezing your husbands hand again as he joins you and remembering something you had heard him echo to you dozens of times.

Never let them see you bleed.

So it would be a silent goodbye. You drop his hand, looking up into his blue eyes for the last time as you take a step back.

He smiles as you raise your hand to your forehead in a salute. You don't need to speak- he knows what you mean. You weren't sure you could if you wanted to.

'Coriolanus Snow, future President of Panem, I salute you.'

He smiles, refusing to let the heat in his head manifest into tears as he gives you a curt nod, a slight bow. Your show was over.

You can't bring yourself to look back as you are escorted, for the last time, from your beautiful garden.

The sound of fireworks and music comes from the home Coriolanus Snow had shared for so many years with the love of his life. The most perfect person he has ever known, and he knows that the sounds of national celebration are his indicator of your passing. So that was it. You commanded and filled the energy of every space you entered, so he wondered now, after you were gone, why the air didn't feel any lighter.

He stared at the bare trestles that in the spring had always held up your raspberry bushes. They were gone, waiting to sprout in the spring. He can hear you, still.

'Raspberries are perennials."

Only then, when it was dark and he was alone, completely alone for the first time in years, did he cry over the weight of your death. Again.

All that was left of him was that boy on the train, crying over a letter he knew you would never receive.

Yours,

Always yours, your Coryo.

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[cinisemperium]

@ofsavior sent in : 💔 (Gray and Erza if you’re up for it) a  kiss  when  it’s  not  wanted. A  FUCKED  UP  KISSING  MEME || accepting

It was a hard fought victory, and while Gray had never doubted that they would win, the adrenaline pumping through his veins felt almost euphoric, chaotic. The black lines of his Slayer marks weren't receding, and he would later blame his actions on the after effects of using too much of his magic.

Erza is beside him, just as bloody and sweaty and messy as he was, but the smile on her face told him everything he needed to know. They were both tired and dirty, having expended a fair amount of magical energy. The sun is just starting to rise behind them, and looking at her, with the first rays of the morning light outlining her, he's struck by how beautiful she is.

And then he's grabbing her, hands wrapped around her arms as he pulls her close. Her lips are warm, and he stays there long enough that he has to break for breath.

As he break the kiss, realisation hits him like a truck and he quickly drops his hold on her, stumbling backwards and safely out of her reach. He has no words to offer other than 'I'm sorry'. How could he give her an explanation when he barely had one himself?

[erzsebetrosztoczy]

For your wounded heart

Pt.1

Pairing: Mizu x reader

Word count: ~2k

Notes: If there will be interest for it, I'll continue the story, because so far there isn't really a Mizu x reader going on lmfaoo but we'll seeeee

Ps.: Mizu's pronounce is he/him in this part

Here's Part 2

The molten gold disc of the sun slowly crept up the horizon, pouring gray onto the world from the darkness. It rose drowsily, languidly among the tall canopies, leaves lighting up as it projected onto them as thousands of thalers appeared next to the shining disk.

The songbirds ruffled their feathers — ready for the challenges of another day, and sang happily to their companions.

A strong draft escaped from under the wooden door, making the embers of the flickering fire dance before running through your covers.

The sudden cold bit into your skin; grabbing you from the realm of dreams, dragging you back to the world of the living with its icy fingers. You opened your eyes with a terrified sigh; waking up from the warm and caressing dream you pulled yourself under the covers.

Another day, another task ahead of you.

Wearly, you dressed up before trying to gather your belongings, which you would need shortly.

A scalpel, a knife, gloves and a deep basket soon graced your side as you set off into the awakening forest.

Three days ago, you were approached by one of the most influential merchants in town. His wife caught the chills-fever, which her priests had not been able to cure with any of their treatments. Realizing that needles, prayers and incense would not help here, the nobleman visited you the day before, when the noises of the market in the main square seemed to dull down, when you started packing your goods to go home.

It had been a long time since you were last offered such a sum - too long for your liking. Short of money - and because you would have faced the wrath of a powerful man if you refused - you accepted his offer to heal his spouse.

Early in the morning, when the rooster hadn't even crowed, you were already ready to go collect the ingredients for the potion.

The sharp autumn air crawled over your skin, penetrated your bones and breathed newfound strength into your heart. Listening to the soothing soft melody of the forest, you set off towards its thickets, hoping that you would find enough ingredients for your tonics today. Everything was ready to take care of the sick wife- all you had to do was get the hojicha flower, of which you had run out of stock a while ago.

Pulling your cloak tight around your shoulders, you stepped on the wet moss carpet, careful not to slip on the rutted ground. Soon the ground would start to freeze- you thought as you tried to remember which tree trunk you marked, where you should turn right or left to reach your usual harvesting location.

"If I want to have everything in the winter, I have to collect them in time..." You sighed, stepping over a taller ditch. "Maybe I should look at the market to buy seeds and-"

"To the best of my knowledge, you have to go the other way to the nearest market." A harsh, sharp voice spoke from your left.

You immediately screamed and if the cold didn't do it until now — the stranger who suddenly stumbled here had certainly frozen your blood. The pounding of your heart only made it worse as you spun backwards, trying to face the source of the sound. Your foot slipped and you fell to your knees, hitting a wet log while you turned your head trying to find the source of the sound.

After a while, three men appeared in front of you; one from the nearby bushes, while two crept out from behind the cover of the trees; like wild dogs lurking in wait for their prey.

"The lady must be lost, people can disappear quickly in the forest..." The other man nodded with a vile grin, rubbing his palms together while approaching you.

"Certainly, it is not recommended to walk alone in such remote places at the crack of dawn." The third man took over, turning his attention to the basket lying on the floor next to you. “It's better if we accompany you… so no one attacks you.”

"I didn't, I just-" You stammered, but your voice got stuck in your throat as the three strangers walked closer and closer. Their ragged and dirty clothes, their darkly glistening dreadful eyes ruled out that they were simple wanderers.

You ran into bandits on the road, alone, in the middle of the forest. Your heart was pounding in your throat and kept yelling for you to move, escape, run — otherwise you will take your last breath here forever.

Your eyes darted to your overturned basket – deep inside your knife was glinting in a cold light. If you could be fast enough to get it out of there...Fight for your life. You fight or you die.

But instincts were stronger than reason; the Gods opened a third way for you at that moment.

You pushed yourself away with your hands, your heels digging into the ground hard, almost scraping it up as you jumped up to run away like a chased deer. You could barely feel your legs, could barely breathe as you ran through the trees with all your might, jumping over bushes, rocks, and pits. With your heart in your throat, with the sound of the bandits' steps and shouts in your ears, you kept going forward, not even daring to look back.

Your ability to navigate had left you, you didn't even know if you were running towards or away from them, there was just the feeling that you still had to go, still run, still fight. If you stopped you were dead, if you fell you were dead, if they caught up you were dead.

A huge thorn bush appeared in front of you, too high and wide it would have been almost impossible to jump over it, to get around it; so for lack of a better option you tensed your muscles, pulled your neck in, closed your eyes and ran into the branches, shielding your face with your arms.

The pain that ignited in the darkness flashed through you as a hundred and a thousand spikes dug into your exposed skin; then you felt the ground open under your feet, suddenly you began to fall.

You didn't even have time to cry out when you hit the hard ground with your side.

Lying there injured and exhausted, with a bursting heart, you realized that it was all over.

You just sealed your faith.

Panting and choking from crying, you heard the rustling of the bushes behind you, then the trampling of feet.

"Here's the little slut" One of the men chuckled, but the cheering stopped almost immediately.

You did not dare to look up from the ground, did not dare to move; you were left lying on the ground trembling, awaiting death...

But nothing happened.

Another second, but there was only silence, no more footsteps, no giggles, no shouts.

Blinking away the dirt and blood, you looked from behind your lashes and then realized why you were still breathing.

The attention of the three thugs no longer plagued you. They turned almost motionless, to the left, watching ahead of them.

You followed their gaze and saw that you had fallen on a road. On a road where a fourth stranger was now standing in front of you.

A tall, lanky stranger in blue traveling clothes, the bamboo hat he wore pulled low over his face, obscuring his features.

A stranger with a sword in his hand.

Suddenly everything around you seemed to be silent; the chirping of the birds died away, the trees and twigs no longer creaked and cracked, as if the wind itself had stopped to watch the unfolding scene.

Not wanting to break the silence, you stared at the fourth stranger, holding your breath, wondering what would happen now.

Was that your savior ahead of you? Or was he just a wanderer who didn’t care what troubled others, who would only solve his own problems, regardless of if he made others ill-fated? Maybe you got out of the frying pan into the fire?

"There's nothing to see here." The nimblest bandit growled, a rusty knife in hand. "Everybody's minding their own business, right?"

"This matter belongs only to us and this woman, there is no need to cause difficulties for anyone." The largest one with a long mustache spoke slyly, the one closest to you clutched a heavy cudgel in his fist, his knuckles white from the force with which he gripped it.

The blue-clad stranger didn't answer immediately, instead tilting his head to the side, he peeked out from behind the brim of his hat, flashing his yellow-tinted glasses in the light.

"Looking at you, I suspect you are road thugs." The sword bearer spoke, his voice softer than you would have expected. "You rob those who come here." His words didn't seem like a question.

At this, the third man - the fox with a smile, who had a katana, spat down his side stepping forward in front of his companions.

"If you want good for yourself, you turn back or walk past us without another word." He snapped in his raspy voice, grabbing the hilt of his sword as the other two tensed with their weapons as well.

Barely able to handle the shaking and the hitching of your breath, you lifted your torso off the ground with challenge, turning to the blue-cloaked stranger desperately.

"Please…" Your voice trailed off as sobs broke from you. "Don't let me die, please!" Your voice cracked; hot tears washing away the mud and blood from your face. "Help me, please!"

The lanky stranger moved his arm back, revealing the hilt of his sword as he reached towards it with his right hand.

You inhaled through your teeth when you heard the deep clang of metal and clattering footsteps as the bandits charged towards him.

You dropped back down, pulling your knees to your chest as the battle began. Only daring to watch the scene from the cover of your arm.

The swordsman reached first the blue-clad savior, swinging an upward blow from the left, but his sword met another steel.

The man in the hat drew his sword from the sheath with the speed of a viper, breaking the first attack with almost no effort. Before the thug could react to it, the man was already flying to the ground, his legs entangled as the blue clothed one pushed him away to answer the next blow.

The rusty knife reached him second, and while his companion seized the stranger with his blade, he thrusted his knife towards your helper's neck. The cloaked man shoved the katana wielder away with his foot as he turned his torso to the side, the knife still flying towards him mid air.

Taking advantage of the movement, he turned to the right, placing one raised foot in front of the other, cutting across with his blade in front of him.

In a blink of an eye, red rain shot from the arm of the knife-wielding bandit - the sword almost cut his arm off. He staggered with a sharp wail, then fell to the ground, where he continued to shriek.

The one with a cudgel on the other hand did not attack yet, instead he stopped from a decent distance so the sword of the man in blue could not reach him, seemingly considering his next moves.

But this proved to be only a distraction when the first attacker reappeared, this time springing into action behind your savior's back.

The one in blue could hear this, as he turned to the side keeping an eye on both of his attackers, but then the largest started to move suddenly in order to attack at the same time with his other partner.

Seeing the impossible situation, you already had the mental image of the swordsman slashing your savior while the other beat him to death with the heavy club — you whimpered in terror, burying your face in your arms to shield yourself from the sight.

You heard a shout and the clang of steel meeting again, something heavy falling to the ground. A dull, more watery pounding - the cudgel! Bubbling, frothy snoring- a moan of agony and then silence.

You were next, you were sure of that.

Sharp cuts, bone-crushing blows and then slow, lingering death awaits you.

But there was no movement, not even a single grunt from the fight.

Panting, you raised your head to shorten your wait, but you did not find yourself facing the person you were waiting for.

You caught the gaze of the blue-cloaked stranger. You watched with a dry throat and roaring head as he stood over the three bloodied, dying bandits, his sword still clutched in his right hand.

The bamboo hat was no longer on his head, it probably fell off sometime during the fight when you weren't looking, and now was lying at his feet, waiting to be dusted off and put on again.

But instead, the stranger staggered, his knees buckling as he took two steps forward, finally slumping forward onto the ground, leaving you alone in the field of vigilance.

[dinasfavslut]

Bookworm Abby x Fem!reader

Warnings: smut, 18+ obviously,minors + ageless blogs please for both of us don’t interact, cockwarming, slight degradation, slight praise

I’m pretty bad with warnings I’m sorry I kinda forget what I wrote. I’m so sorry, I really did mean to post this sooner I was working on this through the week end and got distracted.

Abby was blessed with broad hands. I was like, Holy shit, she has big motherfucking hands when I first saw her.

Abby is perfect in every way. She's kind, soft, caring, strong (really fucking strong), and extremely intelligent. She obviously likes reading. She has a wide range of novels on her shelves, from romance to action. She has read everything from fiction to nonfiction and even some poetry books.

It's around 4 p.m., and Abby is in the lounging area with a book in her hands (I also imagine she wears reading glasses) and her nose buried in deep. The cover depicts a girl with fire behind her, but who cares? You simply want Abby to put her book down and pay attention to you. After classes, and a long day at work. All you need is Abby to relieve the stress that's been turning your hair gray, but she's reading, and you know she can't be bothered when she has a book. So, you sit next to her, your head on her shoulder, and trace your fingers over her biceps, forming hearts, circles, and stars. “What are you reading abs?”

“Daylight," her tone is calm and dull; she didn't even look up while speaking; she was way too concentrated on her book. Most of the time, when you're desperate, you can get yourself off, but today was different. You really wanted Abby's hands—her massive fingers pounding into you—never mind that.

"What's it all about?" Looking down the pages, you lean in closer.

"Tell you later, Kay."

"Abby!" You whined, hoping that your neediness would distract her. "Put down your book and look at me!" If she loved you, she'd put the book down straight away. She sighed and shifted her gaze to you. "Abby, I need you." You looked down, toying with the end of your shirt, a little embarrassed by your previous sentence.

"Will you also need me after I finish this?"

"Yeah but-"

"You can wait then."

"That's not fair, Abs. I'm just-" You groan from sexual frustration as well as the frustration of not knowing what words to get out. You're sick of this bullshit. You discard your pants and underwear, placing yourself on Abby's hand and moving her fingers to where you need them. Her palm was warm and gentle. Her fingers were perfectly positioned, so when you grinded your throbbing cunt against her, the pads of her fingers banged right into your puffy pink clit "f-fuck." You let out a loud moan and rubbed yourself against her hand. The only reaction you receive from her is a brow lift. No, hey need some help with that? Or, look how needy my girl is. But her hand will have to be just fine.

Almost reaching your high, you can feel the coil in your stomach tightening. "Fuck Abby, so- so- feels so good, m'gonna-" She yanked her hand away, leaving you to moan and cry, “but-.”

"Tut-tut, you knew I was reading, and you continued to bother me." She eventually put down her silly book and started undoing her jeans. That's when you noticed the bulge she was hiding in her pants. It was clear pink in color, slightly curved, and about 9.5 inches long. When did they get to be that big? "Come over here." You crept over and stared her in the eyes as she raised her hand. "Do you see my hand? Do you see the mess you made? I was busy, and you were attempting to distract me."

"Blah blah blah, s'not fair that you're always nose-deep in your fucking books." She firmly grasped your waist, and it was, kind of... hot. Abby is usually soft and delicate during sex, and she always does everything you say. She knows she's strong and doesn't want to hurt you, but her tone was harsh this time. The tips of her fingers dug into your hips as she "god-fuck-Abby!" shoved you down on the rest of her strap, almost making you gush the minute you sank entirely down.

"You understand that you are not to move? Be a good girl till I finish my book, and I'll give you what you need, got it?" Groaning, you leaned forward and placed your head on her shoulder. You were aware that her sexual desire was lower than yours and that she could go a long time without any sexual activity. You can only last a week. It was the book's problem, not yours. The book is what made you sit and be her good cockwarmer for who knows how long.

5 minutes... 10 minutes... 15 minutes This is taking far too long. You looked over and noticed she had quite a few pages. "Hey, come on, pretty girl, almost done." Unfortunately for you, Abby was not the fastest reader. She enjoys going deeply into what the characters are doing and what the current events will entail at the finale of the story.

One hour happened to extend into three hours. "Come on, pretty girl, you were so good for me; I think you deserve a reward, yeah?"

[itsonlybaby]

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐫 - 𝐛. 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞﹒

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

song !

Bellamy Blake - Polis

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ ⸝⸝ They met in the shop's area of Polis, you trading Bellamy a small wooden sculpture, which he kept. Thinking of you every day, every day for 2,026 days. ﹒ 　 ⊹ 　⤷ cw: sfw, angst, spoilers, emotional cheating, grounder reader

Waking up you were met with the familiar sounds of busy streets, sounds of horses, and bells as people tried to attract traders towards their shops; most would call these sounds annoying or obnoxious but you called them home.

Sitting up you stretched and let out a small yawn, washing away the exhaustion. Throwing your wolf fur bedsheets off the cold air nipped at your exposed skin, sending a chill down your spine. You shivered as your bare feet met the cold wood below you.

Walking to your dresser you pulled out one of your usual outfits. A pair of leather jeans with laces running along the sides, a long-sleeved shirt, and a ripped-up gray T-shirt to go over that due to the chilly weather this morning.

Placing on your black leather boots you made your way downstairs, to your small wood shop. You made all kinds of wooden things. Wooden bowls, plates, sculptures, commissions, and even toys for children.

Your shop had become well-loved by the people of Polis.

Gathering the small tools you needed to carve the wood you sat down and placed a bucket between your feet for the excess wood that fell. It was a good fire starter that you often gave out to the people of Polis.

Picking up a tool you began the familiar practice, going for a little bunny. They had been your favorite animal.

You were finishing up the bunny when you heard the sudden commotion and bustling streets come to a halt, placing down the bunny on your shop's front desk you looked up and found people lined up at their respective shops, letting three people pass peacefully.

One was a blonde-haired girl, another was an older man with speckled hair and a beard, and the last was a fairly attractive black-haired guy with freckles. The blonde and noir were holding hands before he locked eyes with your shop, pointing before walking over. Your nerves were all over the place, what could they have wanted?

He had approached your shop, entranced with the tiny sculptures, landing at the one in front of you.

He had spoken but you couldn't understand that well, the only word you could understand was 'you'.

Suddenly standing up and taking the bunny in your hand you made a motion for him to take it.

"Beja, disha gon yu." Please, this is for you. /

You spoke with a smile and saw him shake his head in a 'no' motion, bringing his hands up and waving them with a smile.

You insisted, "Beja," And after a few seconds, he gave in, taking the small bunny with a goofy grin, admiring the talent in his hands.

Before he could give anything in return Clarke rushed to two into the tower, speaking words you could barely understand.

All you could do was stand there in awe of the situation that just passed.

The streets covered back in crowds of people and the bustling streets once again started.

The day came and went with every few customers as everyone was hiding, not wanting to cross paths with the Skaikru people.

You, on the other hand, stayed open for as long as you could. Wishing the boy from before would visit. You couldn't understand what made the boy so intriguing, maybe it was the way he didn't wanna accept the gift without anything to give, or maybe it was the way his black locks complimented his dirty freckles, or the way he admired your art so intently, or how his voice sounded speaking his mother-tongue.

It was your first run-in with the Skaikru people, so you had no clue who they were or the importance they held within the clans.

You had originally been from Floukru, the boat people, who believed in peace, and you still did. But you wanted to reach other people with your talents, wanted to see the world past the fish-filled sea. So after multiple promises to Luna, she gave you your wish, and if at any time you wanted to shed always accept you back.

The darker it got the more lights were lit and the less people who crowded the streets, and with every minute was a minute more where your exhaustion caught up to you.

Lana, from Azgeda, approached your shop. Lana was a good friend of yours, one of the first friends you made since you came to Polis. She traded you some meat and in return would take two sculptures she found mesmerizing that day.

"Heya, Lana," You greeted with a smile as she placed the small bag full of salted meat on the table. "Ha yu?" How are you?/

She swiftly returned my smile, examining the sculptures laid on the table.

"otaim gud, mochof," Always good, thank you?/

Lana was a woman of few words, but she was a kind person.

In her hands was a gorilla, and a fox.

"Pauna!" She said excitedly, she loved Pauna the gorilla.

The conversation was cut short when the people from Skaikru approached your shop, you gave Lana and nod and she returned it, eyeing the three before walking off.

Looking towards them you noticed the blonde once again hand in hand with the raven-haired boy.

"Komba raun?" came back?/ You greeted, only for the black-haired one to rip a patch off the arm of his black jacket, now handing it to you.

You took it from him, examining the patch with a smile.

It was a black patch, stars above a rocket.

"Ai Bellamy kom Skaikru, yu?" I'm Bellamy from Skaikru, you? /

You were surprised at his Trigdasleng, though it was a simple greeting it showed he tried.

You giggled before replying, "Ai y/n kom Floukru,"

"Clarke, Kane," Bellamy pointed to the people standing behind him, Kane moving up holding out his hand.

"Hei, y/n," Kane greeted, a smile evident. Though you weren't sure why he had his hand out you took it and he shook it. A confused look on your face made Bellamy smile.

Clarke had seemed to have enough from the greeting.

"Let's go," Clarke rushed, the two men nodding their heads. Before leaving Bellamy turned to take on last look at you, but you watched the entire time he left, repeating his name in your head over and over.

The next two days had been painful, metaphorically and physically. You had been distracted every waking minute, mind always going back to Bellamy. Being so distracted you even cut your thumb on accident. But it had created a cool black pattern on the sculpture so you didn't mind all too much.

When Lana would come around you'd beg her to teach you some English words, you could form semi-comprehensible sentences now.

You tried to forget about Bellamy, telling yourself you never see him again and that he wouldn't be thinking of you.

You were more than wrong.

Bellamy had been thinking of you since the moment he got back in the rover that day, he knew it was wrong, he knew he should be happy with Clarke, but he couldn't help his mind going back to you. He even got Lincoln to teach him more Trigdasleng, though it took a lot of persuasion and questions he couldn't answer for fear Lincoln would tell Clarke.

Every moment he got he would look at the bunny, hold it in his pocket for comfort, stare at it lovingly before bed, relishing in the warm feeling it brought him. You brought him. Every day he'd wondered when the next trip to Polis was.

Clarke knew something was up with Bellamy but she couldn't quite catch what was up, well, until he asked when their next trip to Polis was. Bellamy had always dreaded trips to Polis, hating the way the Grounders would stare. But Clarke found herself not caring, for reasons beyond her comprehension. She found herself looking forward to Polis as well, looking forward to Lexa.

So when the familiarly busy street died down, the happiness inside you shot to the roof.

Placing down the dark-wooded bunny you looked excitedly for the black-haired boy, nerves growing even more when he approached your stand.

"Hei-"

"Hello-"

You both spoke at the same time in your opposite language, a shocked look on your faces soon being replaced by fits of giggles.

"We'll be in the castle, Bellamy," Clarke said, giving a warm smile to you both.

Bellamy only nodded, quickly returning his attention to you.

"I thought you didn't know English?" Bellamy asked with a smile.

"I didn't, not well," You said after processing his sentence "Lana, the girl with meat taught me,"

"Well, it's very impressive,"

"impressive...?"

He thought for a moment, "gud,"

You smiled, something he loved seeing now.

"New sculptures?" He asked, lifting one up for you to correlate the word.

Your face beamed, always excited to talk about your work, "Sha! Thought of you! Dark wood, dark hair, nami?" Yes, know what I mean/

Bellamys face flushed at your words, bringing out the other bunny from his pocket, "Yeah, I take it everywhere with me," He handed it to you.

You examined how dirty it had gotten, "Looks like me now," You said, a giggle following after. You handed the bunny back and he did the same, a silence fell between both of you, not an awkward one, a silence where you both took in each other, neither of you wanting this moment to end.

"Come, glong raun," join /

You motioned for him to jump over the stand. "I'll teach you,"

Bellamy didn't hesitate to jump over, landing inches near you.

Taking in his scent you flushed, he smelled good, manly-like.

Bellamy thought you smelled amazing, and you did, every morning you'd rub vanilla oil into your neck and arm areas, and it worked wonders.

Getting up you pulled a small stool next to you, motioning him to sit, which he happily did. Once you sat and faced him you handed a tool and a small chunk of wood you had taken the bark off of already.

The smaller stool made him face-to-face with you, now letting him fully take in your face.

"Just ease into it," You spoke softly, showing him how to do it, though he was too busy looking at how focused you were, how you bit your lip when you concentrated.

You looked back up at him, expectantly.

Snapping out of his thoughts he tried his best to mimic your movements, though his turned out rigid and rough, making you laugh.

"You are in control," You said, going back to carving, as did he.

Twenty minutes had passed and you were finished, you had made a fish.

Looking over to his he made a... cat? dog? It looked like something you'd see in your nightmares, but it was his so you loved it all the same.

You patiently waited till he was done, which only took three more minutes till he gave up.

"I just don't have gentle hands like you," He said, a compliment hidden in plain sight. You laughed again, he loved it when you did, he loved that you found him funny.

"I love the cat," You said, taking it in your hands with a small smile, feeling the rough edges.

He scoffed amusingly, "It's a deer," To which you busted out laughing, throwing apologies his way. You laughed so hard you almost fell out of your seat, Bellamy had to hold your sides to hold you in place

After calming down you noticed the position you were in, Bellamy's hands on your hips, the big, calloused hands bringing a newfound warmth to your sides.

Even though you were no longer laughing neither of you made any motion to move.

Well until you were interrupted by a teary-eyed Clarke and a distraught Kane.

"Bellamy, we need to go, now!" She yelled, Bellamy quickly letting go before giving you one last look. He hopped over the stand and walked towards the rover, Clarke explaining.

You were sure she was mad at you for being so intimate with Bellamy, you were far from right.

Clarke had explained Bellamy Lexa's death, how Titus had shot her in an attempt to take Clarke's life, and how the world would end in 2 months.

For two months you hadn't seen Bellamy, hadn't seen Skaikru.

Lexa's death hit Polis hard. Thieves are more evident now that there was no true commander, they never hit my shop, who would want to steal wood? Wood you give out for free anyway.

Lana was a no-show as well, last you heard she got food poisoning from fish, you had hoped she was okay.

People had been getting sick more as well, spores being found on the dead bodies around Polis. They held a conclave a few days prior, for a bunker to survive the radiation, Luna fought in it, for Floukru and death. But the water thought it was her time to return.

You were closing up shop for the night when you heard a familiar voice coming from downstairs.

"y/n, y/n!" It was Bellamy.

You rushed downstairs, practically tripping over the steps, his voice had a tinge of urgency. He was dressed in an orange suit with a helmet on.

"I need you to come with me, now," He demanded, an extra suit in hand.

"What? Why?"

You couldn't just leave my life here, though it was small it was peaceful and enjoyable.

"I'll explain on the way, we don't have much time,"

You shook your head, a wave of fear washing over you.

"Please, I can't leave you here, I.." He cut himself off hesitantly.

"I'm sorry, bell..." You felt tears pricking at your eyes, watching his already sliding down his cheeks.

"Please, stay safe in the bunker," Bellamy pleaded, you nodded as the rover honked in urgency, he left the suit on the desk and rushed off to the rover, looking back to make sure of your answer.

You wanted to so badly go with him, but something was stopping you. Fear, anxiety for what the future held. Once the rover departed you grabbed Bellamy's deer and suit and headed towards the bunker, Indra greeting you.

"Last for Floukru?"

Everything in you was telling you to turn around, and find comfort in the radiation-soaked forest, Luna had always told you to listen to your instinct.

You shook your head, a concerned look growing on Indra's face, "We won't be able to open the doors for 5 years,"

"May we meet again, Indra kom Trikru,"

"May we meet again, y/n kom Floukru," She nodded to the guards outside the hatch, entering before closing it, a loud locking sound coming from inside.

You walked back to your stand, placing the suit on with the helmet. A bittersweet feeling took over your body as you heard people scream, people you knew, your friends. The last thing you heard was a loud crash before passing out.

You hadn't expected to wake up, you had fully accepted death. So when you awoke it was a surprise to you. An even bigger surprise to see Clarke hauling big rocks from the bunker zone. Slowly taking in your surroundings everything was covered in sand, you couldn't even recognize Polis anymore. The huge castle in the middle is now the size of a house.

Once you took in you reached for Bellamy's deer, relief replacing your panic with a sigh, gaining the attention of Clarke. Who was now sweaty.

"C'mon, I'll teach you to drive, and explain along the way."

It had been 58 days since Bellamy went to space. 58 days and 57 nights you spent thinking of him. You and Clarke had made it to Shallow Valley, it was like the explosions completely missed the Valley, but the radiation didn't. Clarke had found a nightblood in the woods while I radioed the ring, you had done it every day since she found the mini panel and radio. It gave you hope, hope that they made it, hope that everything was okay.

"Anyway, I still have your deer, Bellamy. I wonder if you have the bunny I made."

Your words got cut short by Clarke's scream, and you instantly shot up and ran in the direction of the noise.

Clarke had been caught in a bear trap.

Was this from the girl?

You undid the hinges, successfully freeing her with one last scream.

"Can you walk?" You asked, staring down at the bloodied ankle.

"No," She let out between grunts of pain.

It had been 1968 days since then, or in other words, 5 and a half years, and with every passing day, you lose hope. What if they had run out of air? What if they didn't even make it to the ring?

Bellamy was looking out the window of the ring, staring at the small dot of green while fiddling with the wooden bunny. He had thought about you every day since he got here, cherishing the memories spent between you and him. Ghosts of your touches remained on his skin, a fond memory of your being. Today was the day they finally went back down to the ground. Having just enough fuel to land. He didn't know if you were dead or alive, part of him was scared to find out either answer.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard a loud rumbling sound, shaking the earth every time it got closer.

Clarke and Maddi had rushed by my side, tears pouring out of your eyes at the thought he was really alive.

The rumbling sound ceased when they landed below the cliff of Shallow Valley, you raced into the rover, waiting for Maddi and Clarke to hop in before speeding down to their landing spot.

When you arrive the door to the spaceship is already open, Raven and Emori checking out the damage to the ship, Murphy practically kissing the ground, and Monty and Harper are hugging.

Their attention was soon drawn to the rover, and then you saw him.

Bellamy climbed out of the ship, locking eyes with you from the car.

Opening the door slowly you stepped out, in disbelief of the sight in front of you. Once reality hit you ran to him, jumping in his arms as tears began to pour again, soaking his shirt with tears.

You had dreamed of this moment for 2,026 days.

Your grip on him was tight but not as tight as his grip. Bellamy felt as if you'd vanish in thin air.

"2,026 days, Bell," You breathed out into the crevice of his neck. Still refusing to let go.

Bellamy felt something hard on your pocket, he pulled it out and a wide grin fell on his face.

"You kept it? All this time?" He asked, examining the rough edges, the memory clear in his mind like it was just yesterday.

"I couldn't lose it, it was the only thing I had of yours,"

Bellamy swore he could continue crying, he cupped your face, examining how little changed about you.

"How are you alive?" Bellamy asked.

You grabbed ahold of his hands and rubbed circles on the back of them, "Nightblood, I could never tell anyone before,"

"She's the girl you wouldn't shut up about?" A guy spoke, who you assumed was Murphy from Clarke's stories and drawings.

Both you and Bellamy flushed at Murphy's words, stepping back to let Clarke and the others reunion.

It had been a few hours since everyone headed back to the Shallow Valley village. You and Bellamy were perched on the cliff, gazing over the sandy dunes and stars as music played from the rover.

He had been telling you stories from the ring, though there wasn't much to tell. And you had been sharing stories from the years.

'Cause every night, I'm talking to the moon,'

"Every day, for 2,026 days, I radioed you," You had admitted, eyes still locked onto the stars. Bellamy's eyes were locked onto you, still taking in your everlasting beauty hours later.

'Still trying to get to you,'

You looked down at your hands, resting gently on your thighs.

"I love you, Bell," You said softly, just enough for him to hear.

'In hopes you're on the other side, talking to me too,'

Bellamy felt his face grow hot, every worry dissipating with just a few words.

'Or am I a fool who sits alone talking to the moon?'

You felt Bellamy gently cup your cheek, making you look into his eyes. Leaning in slowly you intertwined lips, seconds now feeling like years as time stopped. The feeling of his chapped lips finally against yours was all you cared about.

After what felt like decades you pulled away with big, goofy grins. Staring intently into each other's eyes.

"I love you too,"

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[kuamiru]

Little Treasure, Little Dragon

Zhongli, the legendary dragon and god of the earth, becomes a little too attached to a human child after a fateful encounter.

Warnings: Obsession, possessiveness, blood, dismemberment, murder, death.

The skies were painted red. Smoke rose from the ground and went into the skies, creating a curtain of gray that was impossible to see through. The earth vibrated furiously below your feet, forcing you to stay on the ground if you didn't want to stumble and fall again and again.

The heat was almost suffocating. The smoke created by the fire surrounding you was starting to fill your lungs, slowly clouding your vision and numbing your senses. It was a matter of time before it made you lose consciousness.

Among the vibrating red and gray, a pair of golden eyes looked down on you. A gaze as cold as ice that could only belong to a monster. The same monster that was the culprit of all of this.

And then, a golden and black scaly hand reached down to grab you.

.

You awoke with a jolt. Cold sweat covered your body, making your hair stick to your face and the sheets cling onto your body. There was a strong headache accompanying the fright, a throbbing that made you feel like your head was going to explode.

Once again, you remained unable to recall your dream. Or nightmare, more accurately. No dream leaves the host awakening with such dread that almost makes them fall off the bed. In any case, you were positive that it was the same vision that had been plaguing your nights since the news of a godly war reached your little village. It had to be, for the feeling each time you woke up was always the same.

It was like something very, very bad was about to happen.

Looking out the window, the sun did not yet rise from the horizon. It was still too early for a lot of people, but for you it was the right time to start working. Quickly getting out of bed, you gathered your clothes and rushed out of your house, going for the small lake just at the entrance of the woods. Even though you could always wash yourself at home, you needed some fresh air and didn't want all the noise waking your parents up. At times like this, you always made use of the secluded lake just before the forest. It was such a relaxing place that it felt criminal to be the only one to know about it.

The cold air of the night eased your anxiety from the dream; the rush had long since disappeared and the only thing that remained was a feeling of sorrow. It made your heart feel heavy, but you were more or less accustomed to it now. Soon you'd have to start doing your chores and then there'd be no time to think about your feelings, too busy to even think about anything other than work.

Once you arrived at the river bank, the calm waters greeted you like they always did. You had to be quick, or else your parents would wake before you returned home and worry about your whereabouts. Just as you were starting to get undressed, a strange noise made you stop in your tracks.

You were at the entrance of the forest, so there shouldn't be any wild animals, right? This place was far from the town, too...

Another noise made you flinch, quickly gathering your belongings and getting ready to flee. Oh god, was it a wild boar? A wolf? A bear? You weren't so sure you could outrun one of those.

Finally, it all culminated in a big splash at the lake. Could the animal have fallen while it was trying to drink water? You timidly looked over your shoulder to see what was happening, finding the wavy waters with nothing else on sight.

That's it. There was no way you would bathe in that lake now.

Just as you were going to flee the place, the ring of the disruption of the water made you look back and finally see what was making such a fuss. A figure emerged from the bottom, and you finally realized that it wasn't an animal but rather a person. A tall and slim dark-haired man.

You quickly hid behind a thick tree, between embarrassed and ashamed of seeing a person in such a private moment and hoping he hadn't seen you so you could quietly leave unnoticed. From the sound of it, the man only laid there, resting with his upper body above the water level and enjoying the feeling of the cold against his body.

Taking your chances, you stepped forward only to stop abruptly when a twig was crushed below your foot. You stood still for a few seconds, afraid that the stranger had heard you; but when you heard nothing coming from his end, you deemed the situation secure enough to keep scurrying off.

However, the moment you looked back ahead, you met with the chest of that same man, having to raise your head slowly so you could meet his golden, glowing eyes. Fear immediately struck you. Whoever he was, he carried an aura of divinity and power, as if there was no one in this world who could stand against him.

"What is a child like you doing here?" His deep voice sent shivers down your spine, it even made you recoil unwillingly and make your form even smaller.

"I- I..." You couldn't even finish your sentence. This man terrified you; what if he hurt you? Should you try to scream in hopes of someone coming to your aid?

The stranger noticed your fear and released a sigh. Maybe he wasn't accustomed to speaking to children, for he seemed at a loss of what to say.

"It's okay, little one, I won't hurt you. I'm not mad, I'm just worried that a tiny mortal is out here in this dangerous forest by themselves."

His words turned soft at your scared expression. The last thing he wanted was to appear as a threat.

"...I bathe here," was your answer. He hummed at that, as if that phrase made him think.

"Bath, you say?" He looked at the water. "Isn't it a little cold to take a bath in a river, especially when the sun isn't even out yet?"

He was right, but of course you wouldn't let him know that. "Well, you were doing the same thing! You're still soaking wet, aren't you cold?"

He briefly assessed his clothes - a long, white cloak - and how it was still dripping with droplets of water.

"Ah, but you're wrong there. One does not bathe with their clothes on, am I right?" He smiled. "I was simply enjoying the icy feeling of the cold water against my scaly skin."

"Scaly?" You asked, uncertain.

He chuckled. "Look."

It was hard to see it because the darkness of the night camouflaged it, but now that the man stepped closer and lowered himself to meet your gaze, the black and gold that covered his entire arms caught your attention almost immediately. The moon accentuated the golden parts; it was almost like they were even glowing.

"Whoa...." Stars shone in your eyes, and he smiled knowing you weren't scared anymore. Children should always have a smile on their face. "Are you a dragon? That's why you called me 'mortal'?"

Curious for your age, weren't you? Still, you were pretty perceptive to have guessed his true form with just one glance. "That's right, little one. I am a dragon that dwells on these lands."

If he was such a mystical being, couldn't he also be one of those gods? The ones that everyone says are killing each other, destroying the lands, and bringing down people with them?

As if sensing your sudden wariness, the stranger rose again.

"Let's better head you home," he said gently. "It's pretty late— or perhaps too early to leave you alone. Would you mind if I escorted you? It would give me peace of mind to know that you had arrived home safely."

Had you not been lost in your running thoughts about gods, wars, and death, you would've refused before he even had the chance to take you with him. It was only when you passed the entrance to the forest that you realized you had subconsciously accepted his request and began to walk hand in hand with him.

Maybe you were lucky to encounter him at such an hour, for even if your house was closer to the rest of the village, no curious eyes could notice you walking along with such a strange being.

He didn't make an effort to engage in idle chat with you. He just enjoyed the changing scenery, observing with curiosity the wooden houses as if trying to figure out what kind of life the people inside had just by looking at their homes. It was only a few times where he turned to face you and flash a kind smile, alerted by your eyes lingering too long on his face. It would embarrass you and force you to avert your gaze to the road ahead before turning to see him again and thus repeating the cycle. The silence was nice, too. If anything, you didn't expect such a supernatural being to be chatty anyway. It left you free to think about him, his mysterious nature, and what his life could be about.

"We have arrived, have we not?" His voice got you out of your thoughts, surprised to see your little house in front of you. Had you told him where you lived?

"Yes, this is my home," you shifted uncertainly in your place. How do you say goodbye to a dragon without them taking offense? Would it be too rude to just go inside the house? What if he got mad at you and attacked your village like those ruthless gods enjoyed doing?

The man, once again, seemed to notice your running thoughts, for he smiled gently and ruffled your hair. "Be safe, child. Our encounter today felt like orchestrated by fate."

Nodding, you rushed inside quietly, at such an hour your parents would still be asleep after all. Just as you were about to close the door behind you, a deep voice interrupted you.

"And be mindful to not bathe when it's too cold, little one. Catching a cold would be terrible for your health."

When you turned your head to see him, your eyes only met the dirty road that led to the village. Everything seemed in place, like that man was never there.

What a weird encounter. Were you sure that you left your bed earlier? A pinch to your cheek proved that no, this wasn't a dream. You just met a real, mystic dragon in his human form.

You just hoped it wouldn't happen again.

.

Destiny had a weird sense of humor.

Just two days after the 'lake encounter', you had the misfortune of seeing the man again. It wasn't like you disliked him or anything; you just preferred not to be acquainted with him or any other dragon or god for that matter. You knew what happened with humans got too close to other beings, and it never ended up good for humans. These beings were capable of destroying entire villages just because they were having their own war, who could guarantee they wouldn't do the same if a mere human dared to invoke their wrath?

You wouldn't like being the cause of your home downfall.

"It seems that fate has led us to cross paths once again."

Looking up from the apples in your hands, your eyes met a distinct shining amber that seemed to glow even more once it came in contact with you. It felt strange, running into him in such a crowded area as it was the village's market.

He was wearing a long brown coat, obscuring his dragon-like features that even the human form couldn't hide. The only proof of his true nature was staring right back at you.

"Hello," you kindly returned, now feeling a little awkward. Your hopes of an uneventful trip to the market now crushed. "It seems it did, mister..."

Were you in the wrong for addressing him with that title? Though he didn't seem to mind; in fact, he smiled at the prospect of you trying to get familiarized with him.

"Ah, how careless of me, I never introduced myself. My name is Morax, little one. Can I have the honor of knowing yours, too?"

He extended his hand for you to shake, his sleeve rolling a little back and exposing the black and golden scales that he had for skin.

You complied and shook his hand. His face seemed to light up even more once you told him your name.

"My, that's such a lovely name!" He complimented, taking this chance to get a little closer to you. "Pray tell, what business do you have in a place like this?"

Of course a dragon like him wouldn't have a grasp of human customs. It was kind of funny to see such a large man observing with child-like curiosity the little booths of the market, as if it was his first time seeing something like this.

And in introspective, it might've been his first time.

"Don't you gods know what a marketplace is?" You asked, amused.

"Some do. Unfortunately, I'm not one of those," Morax admitted, ashamed. "I haven't got an opportunity to get close to humans like this before."

"And why now?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he flashed his usual smile and continued to walk to admire the varied goods the people were selling. You didn't immediately follow him, but when he stopped and turned to you expectantly, you had no choice but to walk along with him.

What a strange god. At least he didn't seem the violent type. It would be safe to indulge in his presence a little... right?

This time, he took the job to fill the silence with his curiosity. "What is the purpose of that thing?", "How do you use this?", "How does one wear that?" Morax seemed to love hearing your explanations, often inquiring further to keep you talking. It didn't make sense for him not to know what a pot was, yet you still described its use to him. More than your explanations, he seemed content with just hearing your voice.

"And when the water boils, you can add the—"

The next words were caught in your throat as a hit to your back made you stop abruptly. You let out an "Oof" more because of the surprise than the pain, but your companion immediately moved to support you and check for any injuries.

"Are you okay, little one? Are you hurt anywhere?" He asked in a worried tone, using his hand to gently caress the place where you've been hit. When you shook your head, he turned to glare at the two culprits behind you. "You there! Bring forth your arms, I'll cut your hands off for committing such a crime."

When you looked back at his face, a chill went down your spine. His usual playful and warm golden eyes now glowed with something akin to rage and bloodlust. It was such a drastic change that even the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees.

You were terrified of this side of him. It looked like he would snap and start destroying everything in his way at any moment.

The two boys behind you froze in their place. They also felt the hatred directed at them, even their little bodies started to tremble in terror.

"W-we're sorry! We were just playing!"

"Please! I-I just fell over them! D-don't cut my arm off, please!"

The pair started to cry, but Morax didn't seem to be listening to their rambles. He brought forth his right hand and summoned a large polearm, making the boys shriek in horror. By now a crowd had started to surround you, whispering among themselves about the strange man with a weapon and the two crying children in front of him.

Just before this could get worse for the boys, you grabbed his free hand and fled the marketplace with him, running so fast that your legs started to hurt midway.

Soon, you both were far away from the booths, the people, and the kids. The only landscape now were the rocks and mountains surrounding you, isolating you both from the rest of the village. You bent over your knees, catching your breath. Behind you, Morax didn't even seem to be fazed. Perks of being a dragon and a god, you supposed.

He called your name softly, and when you turned to face him, you were surprised to see that the mad look in his eyes had completely vanished.

"Is something the matter?" He asked, tilting his head.

"Of course there is!" You cried, but immediately composed yourself in front of the god. "You can't just threaten to cut off people's hands! That boy just fell when he was playing..."

"It was not a threat. I fully intended to cut those children's hands had you not stopped me."

A dangerous glow was born in his eyes, making you gulp.

"I don't like people, god or mortal, even touching or aiming for what's out of their reach."

.

Morax was feeling angry. Mad. DESPERATE. The dragon inside him wanted to go out, destroy a mountain, raze a village, kill another god; anything to calm his emotions down.

His rut was coming to an end soon, and his most primitive instincts were trying to take control of him.

His new acolyte shifted awkwardly at his side, pretending that the growing pool of blood didn't make him sick to his stomach. He tried to show no reaction to it. He didn't want his master to think he wasn't up to his new role just because of some human blood.

"This isn't enough..." Morax mumbled, fixating his crazy look on his bloody hand. He no longer paid any attention to the two dismembered hands resting on the ground in a sick way.

"Does... this concern that human child, master?" The younger man asked, flinching slightly when the piercing eyes of his master turned to him in an instant. He dared not say the name, for he knew it could bring forth Morax's dragon instincts. It always did.

He heard the dragon whisper that forbidden word, and for a moment, he was afraid that he would leash out on the mountain again. "That child, yes..."

Morax let out a sight to calm his nerves down. His body temperature was on the rise, and he didn't know if it was due to his rut or his anger of the situation. He should go to the lake once more, just to soak in the cold waters like the other day—

Right, the day where he met you.

A small, human child spying him from the shadows. What a cute little thing you were. He was worried at first; he knew humans were weak creatures, their spawn being completely vulnerable to anything that might want to attack them. That was why he approached you first, to make sure you were okay and not in any need of aid. He just... He didn't expect to see you.

Your frightened form stirred something inside him, and when he showed you his scales to help you calm down... The moment he saw the awe in your eyes, he knew he was in very deep trouble. He foolishly thought that the icy waters could put his dragon instincts to sleep; but being in the middle of his rut that was making his true nature cloud his rationality. There was a voice that sweetly whispered to him: "MINE."

Dragons were such greedy creatures, it was within their nature to take claim of anything that captured their attention. Be it expensive and beautiful jewels, shining coins, extensive pieces of land... And, of course, there were some like Morax who desired to own people. A human, a god, another creature; it didn't matter as long as they had their sight on them.

So, when his eyes locked onto yours and saw the admiration you held for his skin, he had subconsciously laid claim on you. He couldn't help it, you just claimed all of his attention. It had to be okay, right? To just take you away. Your parents were irresponsible to let you out at such an hour when the world outside was such a dangerous place. There was a war among gods raging on! He knew all about that, for he was fighting in it.

Yes, a god like him was the only one being fit to take care of you. The only one powerful enough to protect you. To have you as their own. The sort of privilege a father would have.

His rut deviated in an unexpected way. It no longer edged him to mate, but to give in to his other instincts. In particular, to have a child. This child. YOU.

"They seem to be scared of you, my lord," his acolyte said. "I thought you wanted to keep watching them for a while before standing before them again."

Morax let a huff out. "This rut of mine is to blame. It's nearing its end, which means I'm succumbing to my primal desires a lot more than I would like to."

He closed his fist with such a strength that his long nails pierced the skin and drew blood from the wounds. His own blood started to cover the previous one that stained his black and golden skin.

"This war among gods is almost over, and with no other deity to fight with... It leaves room for my other instincts to take over. Without the heat of the battle to calm me down, I subconsciously make rash decisions," Morax explained. "I had not planned to meet them today, it was the dragon within me that edged me to go to that market to see them."

"I see," was the only answer he could provide.

"I can no longer wait, Xiao. Even if our encounter today wasn't part of my plan, it helped me realize that just watching them isn't enough. Do you remember all this time that I've been keeping my eye on them?"

How could he forget? Since the meeting on the lake, his master kept an undying watch on that child. At first, he thought it was because of his curiosity of the human race, but as time went on... It appeared to be more like stalking at some point. He feared that his dragon had laid claim of the kid and wanted to take them for himself. Of course, he wouldn't dare to raise this concern to Morax, he owed his new life to his master and he dared not to question his motives for doing what he did. So, Xiao just nodded.

"I can no longer contain it. I must make haste, I fear this heat in my blood will burn me if I let it be..."

Morax summoned his polearm and held it tightly between his fingers.

"I have to go to collect MY child."

Once again, Xiao could only diligently nod at the wishes of his master.

.

It was the middle of the night and yet you couldn't sleep.

After the strange day you had with Morax, you decided that rushing back home was the best course of action. The way he was acting and talking scared you; so giving the easiest excuse you could think of, you said goodbye to him and hurried home where you locked yourself in your room under the worried gaze of your parents.

It just all felt too eerie to you. Sure, you couldn't judge Morax's morals based on your human standards, but it still didn't help make you feel at ease with him. Maybe you were a fool for thinking that he wasn't like those gods fighting above you, that he wasn't cold-blooded and cruel and with great disdain for human life like the rest. Today was just chopping off two kid's hands. Tomorrow? Who knew.

Maybe it was best to avoid any contact with him if possible. It was for the better. Nothing good would come from meeting with him any longer.

Gods and humans lived in different worlds, and that's how it should always stay.

.

There were still a couple of hours before the sunrise.

You awoke abruptly, feeling the heat first before seeing the smoke filling your room leaking through the frame of the door. Screams resonated within the house, immediately alerting you and making you bolt out of the bed, opening the door of the room and forced to back away slightly due to the explosion of smoke that came with it.

It soon filled your lungs, and even if you coughed furiously, it didn't help make you feel better. It felt as if the interior of your body was on fire.

Now that you could look into the hallway, the stinking feeling of dread took over you.

There was a large fire, enormous flames dancing around your house, all coming from the living room.

"Mom! Da—" You tried to call out for them, but the smoke in your lungs made it difficult to even speak on a normal level. Your yell came out more as a whisper before a coughing fit overtaking you.

You could still hear your mother's yelling coming from the house. Did that mean that she needed help? Was your father okay, too?

Supporting yourself from the walls, you slowly walked to the center of the screams and the sounds of struggle, hoping in your heart that your parents were all right.

Rounding the corner, however, you did not only find the origin of the fire; there it was the scenes of your nightmares.

Your legs finally gave in, having lost all strength to support your body. Your father laid on the ground without moving, having a big wound on his side that didn't stop bleeding. And your mother...

She was held against the floor by a big polearm piercing her stomach. She was still alive but with no more energy to fight or keep screaming.

"Mom...?" you whispered with tears fillings your eyes. However, she only looked back at you with horror.

"Get out of here! Get of the hous—"

The removal of the polearm in her stomach left her gasping for air, unconsciously moving her arms to cover the gaping wound that wouldn't stop bleeding.

You lazily followed the weapon, and the first thing your brain could process was the staring of two big, golden eyes you held nothing but fear for.

The big figure of Morax got closer to your body, making the ground shake with each step. He had already stopped paying attention to your dying mother and the flames slowly taking over the whole house. It felt like a scene straight out of hell. His ebony and golden body against the red of the fire accentuated the blood on his clothes, his two eyes held an insane spark that a human could never have.

Was this also your end, then? Were you the cause of all of this, the one to blame for? It was all because you met with a godly being, knowing that they destroyed and took everything as they pleased?

His golden hand reached down to you; you closed your eyes again, hoping that once you opened them, this nightmare would finally be over.