#*holds my bags* back to the shadows for another two months

[alolua]

Happy scarlet / violet release ! Hau has a FUECOCO.

[artists-ally]

{Confess Your Lust} Reader x Azriel

You all can thank @riddlesb1tch for this. I have no regrets. It's just pure filth, but I know my whores like this 🥰 Rose this is all for you so you're the only one I care about liking it. Hope you all enjoy, title is from this song. highly suggest listening to while reading btw

Word Count: 4,682

Warnings: SMUT. Minor Dom/Sub concepts, bondage, degrading, teasing, orgasm delay/denial, overstimulation, Az is your pretty little good boy and you're gonna let him know ;)

Tagging: @riddlesb1tch @thelov3lybookworm @librafairy @needylilgal022 @bubybubsters @harrystylesfan2686 @justdreamstars @cyrygher @berryzxx @thehighladywrites @xaithings

Summary: Azriel requested a very special birthday present. And who were you to tell him no.

~~~~~~~

“Cassian, as long as I’ve known you, you’ve gotten me a dagger for my birthday.”

“Yup,” he grins. 

“You know it’ll never suffice to Truth Teller, right?”

“An Illyrian can hope,” Cassian sighs, a relaxed smile on his face. “I know they all go in a drawer at the bottom of your dresser.”

Azriel rolls his eyes, but thanks his brother anyway. He appreciates them, but they hold no candle to the pretty piece of steel sat on his thigh.

Mor had gifted him a new pair of boots and a matching belt to go with them. They were of sleek leather, polished so well he could see his distorted reflection in the curve of the toe. He might have to set them aside for a special occasion so he doesn’t ruin them with training and missions. 

Rhys and Feyre gifted him a custom made weapons display case. It had racks and shelves for all his favorites, as well as drawers for the ones Cassian constantly gifted. It was complete with a throwing pad on the side to practice different strikes as well as a sharpening stone. He’d never admit to anyone but himself, but it made the back of his throat string. 

Amren promised him a night out at Rita’s, and coming from her it was quite generous. 

Buy my gift… it was something to be shared between my mate and no one else. They didn’t need to know the secret behind the look in my eye. It was waiting at our newly constructed home, just like I promised. Just like he had asked. 

“That’s it from us, I don’t see another one here,” Cassian looked around the rubble of discarded bags and decorative paper, not finding any other boxes. “Did Yn already give you hers?”

“No,” I said, sipping my glass of wine. “It’s back at the house. But he already knows what it is.”

“He does?”

“He does?” Azriel furrowed his brows, clearly not remembering the conversation the two of us had several months ago. 

Azriel sauntered into the dining hall, hands fisted at his sides, wings tucked in close. “Can I talk to you?”

The sudden spring of worry in his eyes made me put down my book, following him to a nearby couch to sit on. 

“What’s up, my love?” I asked tenderly, locking a piece of hair behind his ear. 

“If I asked you to do something for me- to me… would you?” 

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Az,” I cocked my head to the side, getting a better look at his eyes. Those wicked shadows blocked some of his tan skin, so I gently nudged them out of the way.

“I umm- I was thinking that we might change some things up. I’ve had a lot of thoughts about these things and I want them. And I want to see if you could want them too.”

“Okay,” I nodded, waiting for a response.

“I want to try using some toys. On me.”

Well, that is not where I thought this was going to go at all. Utterly shocked, but not opposed to the idea, I asked him to elaborate. And by the Cauldron did he. He went into detail of what he wanted, why he wanted it, how he wanted it… it sounded like a dream come true. 

“I’m so happy you told me about this. Yes, I’d be more than happy to fulfill these fantasies with you,” I smiled eagerly. “I promise I’ll make it special for you. Just like you did for me.”

Azriel still didn’t seem to get it, so I flashed a mental image down the bond, watching his brows unfurrow and raise up his face. It was almost ridiculous how far they went up. Nobody else said anything as they watched the interaction. 

“Oh.”

“Oh… what? What did she get you?” Rhys prodded his brother, Azriel not breaking our eye contact. I just smirked, winking in his direction before turning back to the wine. Mor spared me a curious glance, but I gave away no details. The others didn’t need to know what happened behind those closed doors. 

“Just something to play with later,” Azriel swallowed, throat working down and then back up. Only I would be able to note the change in his scent. “Time for pastries?”

I giggled as he deflected the question and moved onto another topic. It was another hour or so before anyone made a move to leave, but as soon as Cassian rolled out, his hands were all over me. 

“Are you being serious?” His hands were cupping my cheeks, a desperate plea to his voice. 

“Of course, my shadow. Go on up, get yourself ready. I’ll be up in a little bit, okay? Send word when you’re ready,” I instruct, moving out of his reach to begin cleaning up some of the mess left behind from the small party. 

“Won’t you come do it for me?” His strong arms wrapped around me, the soft scent of his wings wafting in the air. “I could really use your help.”

“I thought you wanted me to take control?”

“I do, that’s why I-”

“Didn’t I give you an order?” 

“Y-Yes, I just wanted-”

“Then go. Don’t make me ask again, Azriel.” 

“Yes my lady,” he obediently replied. I watched him go up the stairs, shadows lingering behind before darting after him. Once I heard the door click softly shut, I continued my work around the living area and the kitchen. I didn’t have any desire to be cleaning, I just needed to build up some tension. For this to work as he wanted to, I needed to do the unpredictable. Which would be really fucking difficult since he is basically progammed to know every turn and corner. 

I threw out trash, packed dishes in the sink, scrubbed them clean and put them away. About five minutes ago he sent a shadow curling my way, enticing me up towards the play room. I ignored the urgency of the call, deciding I’ll go when I want to. And he’s just going to have to wait. 

Azriel isn’t the most patient creature in this world, that’s for damn sure. 

Making him wait this long would be torture. 

Precisely how I wanted it to be. 

Finally, after another ten-ish minutes of stalling, I make my way upstairs. Purposefully being as loud as I can without stomping up the stairs. My heels click gently across the hard stone. As I near the door, I am hit with a wave of arousal coming from the room. It’s thick and tastes devine on the back of my tongue.

The sight of him sitting in the chair, wings facing me, arms ready and waiting behind his back is a marvelous sight. I can’t help but smile. He looks so pretty. 

“I thought you forgot about me,” Azriel said, a smirk in his tone. “Is it time for my present yet?”

“So impatient, all of you Illyrians,” I snorted, rolling my eyes as I made my way to the wall in front of him. Hung up, there were various toys and playthings. All could be used for pleasure or pain, depending on the mood. “You’ll get it when I say you do. Give me your wrists.”

I held the bundle of rope between my palms, stalking back over to Azriel in his chair. As I pass around to where his hands are locked behind his back, I make sure to tell him he’s allowed to safeword if and whenever he needs to. 

“I know, my love, thank you. I know you’ll take care of me,” he smiles gently, offering his lips.

“You asked to be overwhelmed, so I’m not going to stop unless you give me the word. I want you begging me to stop, remember? You’ll sound so pathetic and pretty when you whimper,” I smiled sickly sweet, pecking his lips with my own. “Ready?”

He gave a firm nod, hazel eyes locking on my body as I pulled away.

Back at the wall, I open the drawer in the chest, finding those two boxes I hid away weeks ago. How he never found them, I’ll never know, but I’m so glad. One was a vibrating cuff. The other was a dildo. 

After taking them out of the box and sanitizing them, I left them there for Az to see, but not to use yet. No, I wanted the anticipation to do the work for me. Rather than giving him what he wanted, I made my way over to him and trailed my fingers around his frame. 

Every flick of my finger sent goosebumps slithering across his skin. Up his neck… down his arms. That sensitive place between his wings twitched as I trailed through it, delicately applying pressure on the muscle. 

“Fuck, baby you… you can’t tease me like that.”

“I think I can do whatever I want,” I replied. “You are tied up at my mercy, aren’t you?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Good boy,” I smiled, threading my fingers through his thick hair, latching onto his scalp. I pulled to the side, watching his body move with the force. His chest rose and fell, I could feel his heartbeat down the bond. Wicked. Powerful. Anticipating my next move. 

I slid into his lap, feeling just how much he needed me through his pants. I leaned just far enough away that he couldn't capture my mouth with his. He tried twice to kiss me, but each time I leaned away, a sick smile on my lips. 

Azriel scoffed, “I just wanted a kiss.”

“I know you do, but I didn’t give you permission, did I?” I mocked, leaning in closer and closer. “Your pleasure belongs to me tonight. I decide when you get what you’ve earned. And all you’ve done so far is complain that I haven’t given you anything. That’s not how good boys behave is it?”

I can see the fire in his eyes, those two sides of his personality fighting each other head on. This desire inside him to be taken care of, to be set free by my control versus that blistering need to be in control of everything. 

I’ll break him free with my bare hands if I have to. 

“Don’t be shy, my shadow. You can say it, it’s okay. No one can hear you besides me. Unless you want everyone to know just how much you need me.”

“I’ll behave,” he recites quickly. “Please.”

“Look at you, begging for it already,” I smirked, standing up from my place in his lap. He groans, cock clearly straining against the fabric covering his legs. 

I circle him. Like a predator to its prey. “You look so pretty tied up, my shadow.”

“When I asked you to play with me, I didn’t expect to be tortured.”

“Tortured?” I spun around to see his hazy eyes. “Oh, my sweet love, I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already begging? Don’t be so pathetic, Azriel. You can take more, can’t you?” I nodded his head for him, fingers fisted in his hair. “Yes you can, good boy.”

I quickly walked around to see his pink cheeks, heated with humiliation. I had no intention of going easy on him the first time. 

In a swift motion, I sheathed the blade at his thigh, cutting away his pants, leaving him just in his undershorts. He gasped, eyes going wide as roughly pulled them down his hips. “Y-Yn what are you-”

“Quiet,” I demanded. 

Azriel shut his mouth, panting heavily as I fisted his cock in my hand. His head tipped back in pleasure, and I almost let myself enjoy it for a second before I ripped my hand away. Those fierce hazel eyes were back on mine in an instant, silently begging for more. He made a wounded sound when I walked away, grabbing the vibrating cuff from the dresser. 

“Let’s play a game, okay? I put this on, and you aren’t going to cum. If you take it like the good boy I know you are, then I’ll give you something else to play with. If you cum… well, you’re just not going to stop.”

Azriel looks genuinely afraid. Like I might break him if I go through with this. I’ve never wanted to break something so badly just to put it back together again. 

I kneel in front of him, spreading his knees apart. I can see the generous amount of gel he’s used to work himself open for later. His body is glowing, vibrating with tension. I spit on his dick, enjoying the sight of him flinching as it hits his hot skin. 

Being extra agonizing, I blow some cool air on his tip to really watch him jump. I giggle, sliding the cuff over his length. The pale blue color is a stark contrast to his bright red skin. There is a button near the bass to turn it on and to switch the intensity. The gentle purr of the toy comes to life with a quick tap, and Azriel damn near falls out of the chair.

“Relax,” I say, forcing his knees down. I looked up at him, chest unmoving as he held his breath. “Breath Azriel.”

“I- I can-can’t,” he chokes. “Fuck Yn, it’s too much.”

“It’s only on the first setting, you’ll get used to it. In thirty seconds I’m going to put it on the next setting,” I warn, watching the way his body quivers slightly. 

My mates eyes are slammed shut, teeth clenched together. His cock gently pulses with the vibe, slick trickling down his shaft in a steady stream. To be a little extra mean, I run my tongue up the length.

“Oh gods Yn…” he pleads, head tossed back. His chest is on display, perfectly cut muscles constricting with every breath. 

“You’re being so good, Azriel,” I praise, relishing in the way his body relaxes into the words. “Just a little longer.”

I stand, walking to the corner of the room to the closet. I quietly wheel out the next part of his surprise, setting them aside for when I need them. When I come back, I notice the sheen of sweat lining his chest and torso. It glimmers in the low light, catching at all the right angles. 

I stroke my hands up and down his shoulders, working the tense muscles. He relaxes into my body and I travel further. Over his chest, over his abs, down his thighs. When I reach his cock, I press the next button and turn up the intensity. 

Az growls. In a way I’ve never heard him before. He curls in on himself, kicking his feet against the floor. 

“Don’t act like you don’t love it, Azriel. I know you want to be my good boy and take your birthday present so well. You’re gonna take it until I tell you you’ve had enough.”

“It feels so good,” he moans. His thighs are shaking, his cock flushed almost purple. “M-More.”

“And now you’re begging for it? Gods, Az you are so easy for me. I’m sure if you'd found this before tonight, I would’ve caught you with it, huh? So fucking desperate.” I can’t help but tease him, he makes it so easy. And he is being so good for me, why not give him what he wants? “You asked for more, Azriel.”

I click it up another notch, watching the way it sends shock waves through the muscles in his thighs and abs. He’s open-mouth panting now, unable to take a breath without whining. He starts shaking his head back and forth, eyes blinking rapidly. 

“You’re not allowed to cum, Azriel. I didn’t give you permission.”

My reminder makes him sob. “Please, please Yn. Fucking please let me cum. Fuck I-I can’t- Yn I can’t-”

“You’re going to,” I demand, pushing the hair out of his face. “Because I told you to. You wanna make me happy, right? I won’t be happy if you cum. You don’t wanna disappoint me, do you?”

He shakes his head no rapidly, sweat dripping down his face. 

“Then don’t cum. It’s not that hard.”

Azriel cries out, the noise coming deep within his chest. He tries to cross his legs to relieve the pressure, but I force them to stay open. He shakes and writhes, wings slanted behind his back in a mess of shadows. He cannot sit still, but I don’t reprimand him for it. 

The room is filled with the sound of his harsh breathing and the hum of the vibrator. It’s filled with the scent of his sweat and breath. 

“Yn- Yn turn it off.”

“No.”

He curses, a colorful menagerie falling from his wet lips. “Please please please please please please.”

The sound of him begging, truly begging, makes me grin in a sinister way. This is exactly how I wanted him. A whimpering, desperate mess for me to play with. 

I turn it off. 

Azriel blows out a breath, body still writhing. His cock stands tall, a deep shade of maroon. I know one flick of my tongue would send him over the edge. And having that kind of power over him feels incredible. 

After letting him rest for a second, I decide it’s time for some real fun. I pluck the dildo off the dresser and stand in front of Azriel, waiting for him to look up at me. When those hazel eyes meet mine, they’re glassy and full of pleasure. Almost too much. He looks drunk with his cheeks so rosy and ears flaming red. He looks so adorable all fucked out like this. 

“Stand,” I commanded, watching the words register on his face. 

His knees tremble, but he manages, stretching his taught legs. The sight of him shaking so vividly would normally scare me. But right now it's… it's beautiful. I made him this way, and this ache between my legs couldn't be stronger. 

The cup on the end suctions to the metal chair when I place the dildo down. “Sit.”

“Yn-”

“Sit,” I snapped, eyes hardening. Azriel swallowed, looking from me to the chair and back. “Don’t make me ask again. I told you to sit. So sit down. Now.”

He turned back around, standing above the chair. Slowly, incredibly slowly, he lowered himself to the chair. His arms were bulging against the ropes, veins running along his biceps throbbing with his pulse. But he sits. All the way down. 

With a proud smile, I drink in the way he sits. It's so rigid. His chest barely moves with his quick breaths. His eyes are screwed shut. 

“Azriel,” I taunt, my voice sickly sweet. “What's got you breathing so hard, hmm? Are you in too much pleasure? Does it feel too good?”

His mouth gapes open, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“You’re at a loss for words with how good you feel. So fucking pathetic, completely fucked out the first time you’re taking a toy?” I click on the vibrator again, starting at level two. He thrashes, then grunts, tossing his head back. “You can take it. You’ve been such a good boy. You’ve been pleasing me so much, Azriel, did you know that? You’re making me so happy. Keep being a good boy and I’ll let you cum.”

“Yn…” he breathed, head falling back to meet my eyes.

“What do you need, my shadow? More? You want more?” He shakes his head no, but remains silent. “You can do better than a pitiful shake of your head. Tell me what you want, Azriel.”

“Yn… Yn…” he chants, my name a plea of desperation. It's airy and full of need. 

“That’s it, baby. Tell me what you need, I promise I’ll give it to you.”

With bleary eyes, he looks at me. “Please let me cum.” 

The words are broken and a little slurred, but he told me what he needed. So I’ll give it to him. 

“Such a good boy, Azriel. Telling me how much you need to cum. I’ll make sure you do, baby. Just keep taking it for me. You’re doing soooo good.”

I kept talking to him, praising him for how good he’s taking everything I’ve given him. Azriel is babbling and pleading like a total whore. While he drones on and on, I wheel out the surprise I set in the corner. Three long, vertical mirrors are set around him so he can see every angle of his perfect body. 

So he can watch himself come undone without me even touching him. 

“Azriel, look at me baby,” I commanded. He settles his gaze on me, then the mirrors. “Don’t you think you look so pretty?”

The way his body slumps in the chair sent chills down my spine. He spread his legs, admitting the cuff constricting his cock. Azriel pushes on his toes lightly, bobbing up and down on the dildo. “Fuck I- Yn I look so…so-”

“I want you to keep your eyes locked on the mirror. Don’t look at anything but yourself. This is all for you, take it all in, my shadow. Enjoy watching yourself fall apart for me.”

Azriel nodded. 

I circled him slowly, amused at how… delicate he looked despite the harsh reality of his current fate. He was tied up, more vulnerable than ever. And yet he looked so sweet and simple. And devastatingly ruined. 

At the first touch to the leathery material of his wings, Azriel jumped. He shouted and swore. 

“Relax, Azriel.”

“I can’t handle it when you touch my wings, Yn. I’m not gonna be able to hold on,” Az pleads. I touch him again in the same spot. He shudders and grits his teeth. “Yn please.”

“Eyes on yourself, Azriel.”

With a deep, controlled breath, he pulls his eyes back to the mirrors. As I touch and explore the most sensitive parts of him, he twitches in every direction, effectively screwing himself further on the dildo. I take the curve of my nail and trace a vein running in his wing. Fibers in his muscles seize. 

In the mirror, I can see the cuff working nicely. His chest is coated in sweat and it takes all my strength to not run my tongue from the tip of his cock to the base of his throat. Instead, I continue to tease his wings. 

Azriel has this one specific spot right at the base of his wing that drives him insane. The moment I begin to move my hand, he begins to moan uncontrollably. He begs and whines and begs again for me to make him come. 

“Are you watching yourself, baby?” I ask, locking eyes with him in the mirror. When he nods, eyes cast down at his body, I stroke his wing. Twice. And tears spill down his face. 

“F-Fuck Yn I need to cum. I need to cum, fuck PLEASE let me cum please please please,” Azriel chants like I’m a long forgotten god. As if I would be able to grant all his wishes and desires. And it fills me with a fire I’ve never felt before. 

“You’ve been such a good boy, Azriel. Go ahead. You can cum, let go.” 

The second I gave him permission, he came. His whole body convulsed with the force. His legs and torso shivered, ecstasy pouring out of him with every whine and curse. 

“Fuuuucccckkkkk,” he mewls, watching his cum slide down his cock, spreading over his thighs. The cuff keeps vibrating, drawing out his pleasure. “Turn it off turn it off turn it off-”

“Don’t you wanna see how far you can go? You look so pretty when you cum, I could keep watching you forever, my dear. Why don’t you do it again, okay? You’ve earned it, go ahead and cum for me, just once more.”

His whole body is flush, the same beautiful color as his aching cock. He strains against the ropes and for a minute I think he’s going to break free. But he falls slack, a steady wave of whimpers as the cuff continues to drain him. The flow of it never stops. 

After a few more seconds to enjoy the show for myself, I turn off the vibrator. I gently slide it off, the majority of his seed landing on my fingers. I make a bog show of licking it off for him. 

Azriel is lost in his mind somewhere when I begin to undo the ropes. I massage his shoulders, working blood back into his extremities. 

“You did such an amazing job, my love. I am so proud of you, I hope you had as good of a time as I did.”

Azriel stayed quiet, but he nodded his head, gulping down air. He was shaking, but judging by the way the bond felt, he felt nothing but euphoria. I had done exactly what I was asked, and he loved it. 

While I kneaded his shoulders, kissing up and down his back, he recovered. While I was strong, I wasn’t strong enough to lift a fully grown Illyrian warrior and carry him to the bathroom. Currently, he’s in no condition to move under his own volition, so we’ll take our time until his strength is restored. 

“I love you so much, Az. My beautiful, strong mate. You did such a good job, such a good boy for me.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, a lazy smile on his lips. “Love being your good boy.”

“You are, you did so fucking good Azriel. It was so hot watching you cum like that,” I smiled, kissing his forehead, then his lips when he pursed them to me. “Feeling good enough to get to the bathroom? The tub is waiting, ready for you.”

My mate nodded, “Only if you’ll come in with me.”

Giggling, I slung his arm over my shoulder. “Of course I will. Stand up slowly, take your time. I’ve got you.”

With a few hisses as he stood up off the chair, wings splaying out to help him keep his balance, I guided him to the bathroom. He could stand just… not super well. We stumbled, but made it to the tub in one piece. I left him to climb in as I stripped, adding some salts to the bath. 

“I don’t care about that, just get in, my love.”

Illyrians, not known for their extended patience, but they are known for their incredible brutality and bravery.

As well as their wingspans. 

Before he could yank me in with my clothes on, I swept them away with a flick of my hand and climbed in. Azriel guided me to sit in his lap, face to face. His warm, scar-flecked hands caressed my body. It wasn’t in a particularly sexual manner, but I was far too turned on to not let a whimper slip. But he didn’t smirk or crack a teasing joke, he just continued to roam my body. 

It seemed to calm him, the edges of ecstasy fading away from the bond one strand at a time. His heart rate slowed and that glaze over his eyes faded away. 

“Feeling okay?” I asked, stroking my hands up and around the tattoos on his shoulders and chest. 

“Mhmm,” he nodded. “Just… wow. My body feels so tingly.”

“Now you know how I feel when you make me cum multiple times.”

Azriel smiled, sending my heart tumbling in my chest. “Guess I should be a bit more gracious with you, shouldn’t I? Considering now you have what you need to retaliate.”

“I think you’d like it if I retaliated,” I grin. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“Good time? I’ve never felt so satisfied in my whole life. Thank you for giving me that experience.”

I smiled so wide it hurt. “Of course, my shadow. But the next time you want to have a ‘new experience’, don’t hesitate to wait so long to tell me.”

“I promise,” Azriel whispers, cupping both sides of my face with his hands. Our foreheads lean in together. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

[p0orbaby]

Hidden in Plain Sight

summary: a secret relationship? who’d have thunk it? not your teammates

warnings: suggestive themes

a/n: i started this months ago, i hate it, enjoy

word count: 2.4k

-

Alessia is a good girl.

You’re not.

Alessia wouldn’t hurt a fly.

You’d punch someone in the face if provoked.

On paper it never should have worked. You with your hot head and her with her kindness and smiles. It was a contrast of temperaments that, to most observers, would have appeared incompatible. And it was. To a degree.

“The coast is clear” you assess. “You go first and I’ll hang back so it doesn’t look like we’ve left together”

The two of you have honed the art of sneaking around. Having mastered the delicate balance of staying close without arousing any unwanted attention. It has become an integral part of your daily routine.

Bringing your head back into the storage cupboard you had meticulously scouted, you find Alessia pulling her t-shirt over her head. In turn hiding the blooming bruises on her collar bones you had gifted her only minutes ago.

She looks in your direction, your silhouette barely discernible in the dim light of the weak bulb. Nevertheless, even in this low light, she can sense your intense gaze sweeping over her body. It makes her skin tingle even now.

“Remember not to be too loud when you get back,” she cautions, her voice hushed, laden with the weight of your secrets.

You let out a soft chuckle and nod. “You worry too much,” you tease. “I know the drill”

“But last time-“

You cut her off with a tender kiss, your lips silencing her. And when she hums against you, you can’t help but smirk. “Last time was a mistake. It won’t happen again, I promise” you whisper between kisses. Your hands gently squeeze her waist reassuringly as you hold her close.

Last time was, unfortunate. And in hindsight, staying back to ‘catch up’ in the showers after training was a terrible idea. Especially when it was glaringly obvious that the two of you were both conspicuously absent from lunch. You had managed to explain it away, albeit with raised eyebrows, knowing looks, and indiscreet whispers behind your backs.

The showers had served as a potent warning, a moment of realisation that you couldn't afford to be as reckless as before. This had prompted your shift in tactics, opting for more clandestine meetings in storage cupboards and carefully timed returns to your respective rooms.

"See you tomorrow in training," she whispers, and you can't resist pulling her in for another lingering kiss before she gracefully slips out of the shadows and makes her way back to her room.

-

“And where have you been?”

A pointed question was asked from across the room as soon as the door clicked shut. You groan internally and roll your eyes in the dark before answering.

“Just getting food” you lie. “I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d go and get something to eat”

Before you knew it, the room was instantly flooded with a harsh, unrelenting white light. It forced you to squint your eyes, trying to adjust to the sudden, glaring beacon that illuminated every nook and cranny of the space.

“Do you mind?” You ask, your hand coming up to shield your eyes.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that right?”

“I’d love to know what you’re talking about, Greenwood. But I don’t”

Alex was clearly not going to let this go. And if the look on her face told you anything, it was that she was having a very hard time believing you.

You sighed, trying to maintain your composure and stick to the cover story. “I was just feeling restless, so I decided to grab a snack. Promise.” You said, a little harsher than intended. The tension and prying getting to you.

She didn’t buy it for a second, her eyes narrowing. “At,” she looks at the time on her phone, “half past midnight? Couldn’t you have just had the snacks I know you keep in your bag?”

Your heart raced as you struggled to come up with an excuse. “Well, I didn’t want to wake you up with my rummaging around. Thought I’d be considerate”

She still didn’t seem convinced. “Considerate? You’ve never been this considerate before”

You snort at her brutal honesty and shrug. “I just thought it’d be a good idea tonight, you know, change things up a bit”

Alex kept her eyes firmly on you, making you squirm under her penetrating gaze. “So, nothing else?”

“Like what?” You ask knowing full well what she was alluding to. Your heart skipped a beat, and you forced a chuckle to mask your anxiety. “You watch too many spy movies. It was just food, no biggie”

She finally leaned back, seemingly satisfied with your explanation. “Alright, alright, just hurry up and get to sleep will you? We have to be up soon”

You let out a silent breath of relief, grateful that she had finally let it go. “We have to be up in seven hours, you mean?”

“Whatever. I’m cranky if I don’t get my self allocated eight”

-

Downtime was always hard.

You didn’t want to spend too much time together and make things more obvious than they needed to be. So you chose to distance yourselves when you could. Sitting at different tables when you ate. Splitting up into different groups when you were on rest.

However, this time you had chosen the wrong group to settle down with.

“Russo came back late last night, you know?”

The group of girls all went silent at Tooney’s gossip.

The mention of Alessia’s late return sent a wave of discomfort through you. Your eyes fell on each person, trying to gauge their reactions. You couldn’t afford any slip-ups or suspicious behavior. Ella had unknowingly opened a door to your world of secrets, so you needed to handle this situation delicately.

Millie leaned in closer, eager to hear more. “Late, huh? Wonder what she was up to,” she commented.

You quickly tried to change the topic, “People have their own reasons for being up late sometimes. It’s not that exciting, surely”

Rach, however, wasn’t ready to drop it “like what?” she asked, her curiosity piqued as she nudged Esme and smirked.

Your heart raced, and you glanced at the girl in question. Eating her breakfast a few tables away and none the wiser to how she was the center of this conversation. You cringed at the position you were in. You couldn’t reveal anything without risking your own secret. “I don’t know,” you replied, feigning your indifference with a practiced grimace. “Maybe she was just out for a walk or something”

“In the middle of the night?” Ella chimed in again.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the secret becoming almost unbearable. You needed to change the subject quickly and divert the conversation away from yours and Alessia’s late-night activities. “You know,” you said between bites of food, “I’ve been thinking about suggesting a movie night for all of us sometime. Morgan over here hasn’t even seen The Devil Wears Prada”

You use your fork to point at her, earning a chuckle from the group. The idea of a movie night seemed to be well-received, and they started discussing their favorite films and the logistics of organizing such an event.

Relieved, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

-

“They’re onto us” you whisper as Alessia marks you on the field. “Alex and Tooney both caught us getting in. It’s only a matter of time before they connect the dots”

Her only response was to block you from rolling past her to catch a through ball. You let it trickle out of play to gain some time.

“Maybe we should lay low for a while” you suggest.

The idea of distancing yourselves further from each other doesn’t sit well with either of you, but it might be a necessary sacrifice to protect your secret and avoid further suspicion.

You both jog back to your positions, your breath slightly elevated from the quick exchange. Alessia’s voice is low, and she contemplates, “Laying low for a while does sound like the safest option. Hempo saw the marks you left. I had to tell her the barbell slipped in conditioning the other day”

“Shit, I’m sorry”

“No it’s fine” she promises, placing a hand in front of you again to keep you back from the ball once more. “I like that you did that”

You weren’t a very bashful person. though your trademark stormy face now blushed uncharacteristically pink at her words.

“Liked that who did what?”

A voice from behind you made you both jump apart. Turning on your heels to find Mary looking between the two of you.

Caught off guard, she stammered “I, that uh, that Y/N finally decided to adopt a dog”

Your eyes bulged at Alessia's excuse whilst Mary’s narrowed as she eyed you suspiciously.

“But you hate dogs”

“No I don’t” you scoff. “Why would you say that?”

Her features twist with confusion. “Because you always complain about pet hair and how they smell”

“Well, I changed my mind” you stated matter of factly.

Alessia chimed in, trying to reinforce the ruse, “It’s true. Y/N had a change of heart after spending time with a friend’s puppy last weekend”

Mary smirked teasingly, “Well, miracles do happen. Maybe having a furry friend will teach you to care about someone other than yourself for a change”

“That’s just rude”

She chuckled back, “I call it like I see it. Anyway, enough with the dog tales. We’re here to train, not discuss pets. Let’s get back into focus mode, shall we? The least amount of goals I have to save the better”

You waited a beat, letting Mary retreat back between the posts before turning to a guilty looking Alessia.

“A dog? Seriously? Now I have to make inquiries at the local shelter just to make sure people don’t think I’m adopting a furball as a cover for getting in your pants”

“I’m sorry. I panicked!”

“This isn’t working” you concluded, running a stressed hand over your face. “We need a better plan, or different roommates. Do you think it’s too late to swap?”

-

It was dark the next time you saw Alessia.

Lie.

It was dark the next time you spoke to Alessia.

And by spoke you meant you had your tongues down each other's throats.

You were both terrible at keeping your word. You’d agreed, only hours ago, that you’d let the dust settle a little before you made any more sudden movements.

But here you were, Alessia perched on the edge of a conference room table, while you stood between her long legs pulling noises from her as you kissed and sucked at her mouth.

The room was bathed in a soft glow, neither of you deeming it appropriate to meet in the shadows or the dark when you were deep in the belly of the building. The world around you fading away as you succumbed to each other, enough so that the creak of a door evaded the two of you altogether.

“I knew it!” The shrill voice from behind you both made you pull apart from each other. Breathless and on your way to a state of undress. “I told you!”

Caught with your tongues down each other’s throats, and, surprise, the teammates walked in on the clandestine conference room rendezvous. You’re looking breathless, on the brink of undress, and Mary, Alex, and Tooney are grinning like they just uncovered the juiciest gossip of the season.

Which they probably did.

You and Alessia exchange a look, a non-verbal conversation that screams, ‘Well, this just got awkward’.

Mary, the chief investigator of the squad, steps forward, wearing a smirk. “Alright, spill it. How long hm? How long have you been sneaking around?” She demands, as if interrogating prime suspects.

“No! Get out, all of you!” You insist, using as much of you body as you could to cover the blondes dignity.

Alex chuckles, thoroughly enjoying the dramatic turn of her probable evening plans. “Oh, come on, we’re all teammates here. It’s nothing we haven’t, almost, all seen before”

Letting out a groan, you let your head drop to Alessia’s shoulder in defeat. You wanted to floor to swallow you up.

“You didn’t answer her question” Tooney prompts as the three of them wait for details they’re definitely not entitled to.

You turn and square your shoulders, ready to take whatever teasing comes your way. “Long enough to stop pretending that we’re not into each other” you snap.

Alex leans in, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Let’s not kid ourselves. We all knew this was bound to happen”

Tooney adds, “Yeah, the black sheep and the golden girl, what a pair”

You roll your eyes, knowing you can’t escape the judgment.

Mary, though, takes a more serious tone, her eyes narrowing. “Alright, cut the crap. Why’d you drag Alessia into this mess? She’s the only innocent one left on the team, and you, well, you’re the resident wild card”

You scoff, “No one dragged her into anything. She’s not as innocent as you think”

Alessia interjects, he head popping up from behind you. “Guys, stop. I chose this. I made the first move. So back off, yeah?”

The room goes silent momentarily. No one, including yourself, expected Alessia to stand up for you like that. She wasn’t shy, you knew that more than anyone, but she also was never one to dive head first into conflict.

If you were being honest, it was turning you on a little.

Mary smirks, “Well, I’ll be damned. The angel actually has backbone”

You shoot them an exasperated look. “Out! Now!”

In a wave of laughs and whistles, the three of them finally stumble out of the room. The door clicks shut, leaving you and Alessia in a moment of awkward silence.

Alessia breaks into a giggle, “Well, that went well”

You shake your head with a smile, “If by well you mean I’m never going to live this down, then yes, it went exceptionally well”

She wraps her arms around you, “They’ll get over it. Eventually”

You chuckle, your hands coming up to brush hair out of her face, “Yeah, when the next scandal rolls around”

Feeling your tenstion, Alessia leans in, pressing her lips against yours in a calming, distracting kiss. Smiling into it when she feels you melt into her.

Just as you run your tongue over her bottom lip, there’s a sudden knock on the door. Mary’s voice calls out through the wood, “Enough with the love fest, you two. Weve got training tomorrow and we need you both fighting fit”

You share a slightly frustrated glance with Alessia, the interruption breaking the spell once agai. “Alright, alright,” you call back, trying to regain composure. “We’re coming!”

Well, you would be if they left you alone.

[notquitecanon]

Insufferably Admirable // Astarion x Reader

Summary: After a restful day turns into a bloody night, your unspoken yet painfully obvious dedication to Astarion has put you in what should be a harder choice. Once Astarion realizes just how far you'd go for him, he has to begin to confront the feelings and realizations he's been ignoring for a while. OR that time You figured out the most effective way to heal a vampire and Astarion got emotional about it

Set at the end of Act 1, but not quite act two. Pre-confession but it's obvious they have some sort of feelings for each other

TW: canon typical violence, blood & blood drinking(obvi this is an Astarion fic), no use of Tav or (Y/N), one use of technical self harm (c*tting) but not in a self mutilation way??, mentions of manipulation obvi, reader might be a little too willing to help (totally not be projecting what???)

this is my first time writing anything for Astarion after hyper fixating on him for a month so please be gentle. I know it's a bit all over the place. (yes I could have completely left out the first half, but there isn't much actual dialogue in the second half and I like to put this guy in situations)

"Remind me again why you insisted on coming with me? I figured you’d be ripe for a day to lay around camp and let us do all the heavy lifting." You grumbled, scanning the crowded streets for a merchant. The goal was simple: get to the nearest village, sell off the extra weight, use the gold to stock the necessary supplies, and whatever the gold couldn’t buy… well, acquire it by any means necessary. No matter your path, through the shadows or the Underdark, you'd need to be prepared.

Gale had gone to pilfer for useful scrolls and maybe an enchanted item to snack on. Lae’zel and Shadowheart to a blacksmith for specialty arrows, useful armor, and any other weapons that caught their eyes. Karlach had carried the two trunks and barrel of items you had collected from your adventure thus far, finding you a wheelbarrow before heading back to camp to help Wyll with his preparations. Halsin… had taken his wild form and disappeared into the forest. Originally, you had intended to do your tasks alone, until- 

"My dear, I’m always ripe for a lay." Astarion twisted your words with a smirk, easily dodging the hand that reached to swat his chest. With a short laugh, he answered your question, his theatrics only increasing to more you argued, "To begin with, Someone- my fabulous self- had to make sure you didn’t get the whole group wrapped up in another laundry list of side quests- who knows what trouble you could have found if you were left all by your lonesome? A gnoll den? A kraken in the pond?  an old woman’s wagon with a broken wheel? a kitten up a tree? An orphanage with a leaky roof? Another cult for us to dismantle? Another temple to drop on me? Where would it end? You’re incapable of turning people away, it’s one of your insufferably admirable qualities."

"It’s called being kind, you dramatic elf." You grumbled, not prepared for the in depth analysis of your character. Trying not to focus so much on the fact he’d called something about you admirable.

"Second, knowing you, you’d sell all this off and still manage to come back to camp with them full. Honestly, pet, how have you managed to collect this much junk? You don’t even have a bag of holding." Astarion scoffed, using a single pale finger to peek under the lid of the barrel. It was just barely containing the countless daggers, goblin bows, pairs of leather armors, and dusty sandals. Your cheeks burned hot- maybe you had a habit of being overzealous in how eagerly you pilfered through all the crates you came across, checking bodies for anything valuable, and demanding the vampire to pick every locked chest the party uncovered. Hells only knew the thrill you got when you would find a buried chest.

"You never know when you might need something!" You reasoned, but swatted him away to hastily shut the barrel before the contents could spill out. It had taken you the better part of the night to pack it full of all the things your companions had convinced you to get rid of. The pale elf rolled his eyes, brushing past you so gracefully you didn’t feel his fingers in your pocket. 

"Really, my sweet? When, pray tell, might we need the collection of rusty necklaces you’ve amassed." Astarion held the bronze and silver necklaces up to the light, the red and blue stones sparkling despite the rust. His voice always like velvet, ruby eyes alight with teasing, "Far be it from me to criminalize accessorizing, but that darling neck of yours is tempting enough already." 

"Astarion!" You cringed, hearing your voice almost whine. Damn him for having that effect, so you cleared your throat as you snatched the jewelry back, "They are useful when we can sell them for gold." 

Astarion, having gotten the reaction he wanted, let you shove the necklaces back in a pocket before glaring at him, though it didn’t hold much actual malice, "Well, come on then, let’s sell the sandals for all the riches the village has to offer us." 

—

An afternoon later, you were smiling smugly as you watched Astarion grumble. Between all the goods and six different merchants, you were leaving with an additional 9,000 in gold, not to mention the additional 3,000 Astarion had managed to pickpocket while you bartered, and the items the two of you had managed to swipe. You felt particularly vindicated as he complained about the weight of the coins in his pack. 

"I’ll buy you something pretty in Baldur’s Gate." You cooed teasingly, to ‘appease’ him. Astarion spared you a deadpan glance before standing to leave, only making you giggle all the more, "Let’s get back to camp."

Astarion caught your eyes once more, scowl softening out at the sight of your bright smile. He was just about to say something sickeningly sweet and perhaps more than a touch vulgar when his eyes flitted up to something, pointed ears twitching at something you couldn’t quite hear. Until you could. 

The door of the jeweler you had swindled burst open, a strangled voice shrieking, "THIEVES! SOMEONE CATCH THEM!" 

Astarion must have been rubbing off on you, because for a moment you tried to feign confusion, looking around for the ‘culprits’ as if the dwarf wasn’t pointing directly at you.  Not that it did much good as several passerbys began to circle around the two of you. 

"Everyone’s so touchy about their personal belongings these days." The rogue scoffed.  Astarion grabbed your wrist and tugged you to him, so that your back was pressed to his and no one could sneak up on you. In his other hand, a dagger had already appeared. 

You sighed in defeat, taking your bow off your back, "No killing." 

"No promises." 

Compared to the goblin camp or fighting through the githyanki creche, disarming and incapacitating untrained townspeople and barely trained guards  was barely a warm up. Still, Astarion never left your side, an increasingly common occurrence when you found yourself in tight situations. Together, it didn’t take long to put distance between yourselves and your attackers, managing to get far enough to escape to the fight. Deflecting one last blow as the two of you passed by an open tavern, you incapacitated a rather pitiful guard with a blunt thunk from the pommel of your dagger. Taking one relieved breath, you tried not to focus too much of the trail of bleeding, unconscious bodies you and the rogue had left behind in your escape attempt. 

"Best we stick to the shadows before we attract more attention." Astarion mused with a cruel smirk, grabbing your sleeve and using it to wipe the blood off the corner of his mouth, his fangs glinting in the afternoon sun. The rogue only chuckled at your curses, giving some inane quip about the crime of dirtying his ensemble and how blood someone always looked better on you, "Now, believe what I said about you finding trouble? Back to camp before you find more." 

Before you could wrench your arm back or remind him that he was the only who got caught stealing, he pulled you off the main road into the alley adjacent- unaware of the attention that had already been attracted from inside the tavern. 

____

Ambushed in the night.  

A whole hunting party of Gur hunters. Willing to purge your party as they slept. 

And they were calling Astarion the monster. Fortunately, Scratch was an excellent guard dog. Waking the entire camp when the hunters tried to creep where you slept. Just as fortunately, there wasn’t a soul in camp that didn’t sleep without at least a dagger under their pillow. 

Your camp had become a bloodbath in the dim glow of the campfire. You had used the book you had fallen asleep reading as an improvised weapon, throwing it so hard it broke the first hunter’s nose. Lae’zel was single handedly mowing through three hunter with her long sword. Spells and incantations sent flashes of light from Gale and Shadowheart’s part of camp, and fire and brimstone lit up Karlach’s. There was yelling and cursing echoing in the cool night air, orders to take the vampire spawn alive and to kill the rest. 

And Astarion? Their target? 

He was where he always was during a fight these days. Right beside you, like a pale, snarky shadow. He had been the one to press your sword into your hand so you’d have more than just your dagger.  With him, you slashed and sliced anything that came near. Until the bastard appeared out of no where, squeezing in between you and the rogue. You would have applauded (more likely cursed) the near perfect use of an invisibility charm- had it not been for the poison-dipped stake raised against Astarion. 

This hunter was different, you could see it in his eyes. They were somehow devoid of life and yet also simmering with rage as they trained on your snow haired companion. This hunter didn’t plan to take Astarion back to Baldur’s Gate, not alive at least. He didn’t care about whatever orders they had, or what consequences would come for disobeying them. He only cared about driving the stake into Astarion’s heart. 

Astarion’s eyes went wide as well at the sight of the stake, realizing as you did that this was no longer just a kidnapping, it would be an assassination. Your thundering heart stuttered, blood going supernova in your veins before freezing to ice as your mind whirled through a hundred different possibilities and also went blank. Your own opponent, along with years of learned strategy, were instantly forgotten as blind instinct took over.  Every ounce of strength and speed you had was directed into a desperate lunge. In your desperation, you really weren’t sure if your goal was to tackle the hunter, grab his arm, tackle Astarion, or maybe even take the stake to your chest instead- you decided to choose along the way, as long as it ended with Astarion alive(ish) and well.

You managed to close the distance, one hand planted firmly to Astarion’s chest shoving him further and the other clamping onto the leather of the hunter’s gauntlet, the same arm poising the stake. With a feral sounding shriek, you pushed his arm so his aim was off. At the same time, your original opponent, frustrated at being forgotten, cast a wave of thunder that sent all three of you flying. 

Astarion, the Gur, and you flew backwards a good fifteen feet, the thunder shaking you to your very bones and splitting your ears. The breath was knocked out of you so hard you thought your poor lungs might collapse and you weren’t able to tell if it was the spell or the impact that did it. You didn’t have time to contemplate, the moment you were able, you scrambled onto your knees. With the same feral tenacity from earlier, you grabbed the hunter by the front of his leather armor, nails leaving scarily deep tracks as you hauled him off your vampiric companion.  With your new opponent, you rolled both your bodies until you were on top of him, knee to his chest. Seeing the look in your eyes, the rage left his own, pure survival instinct taking over. You didn’t even feel the sting of the slicing blow across your shoulder, too consumed with a singular mission. It was Astarion’s dagger you had snatched from the ground on the way that delivered the quick death blow. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You expected to hear something from Astarion- a snarky comment about your lack of technique, a snide remark about his assailant, or even just a stream of petty curses- but he was silent. You turned back to him, only to have dread flood every cell in your body. 

Nothing else mattered anymore, not the fight, not your injuries, and especially not your forgotten original hunter. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You barely noticed.

The moment you’d disposed of Astarion’s assailant, you were scrambling back towards the rogue, who was laying all too still. At first, you hesitated to even touch him as if that might make it worse. You called his name once, and then again when you were able to gingerly lay hands on him- one hand to his chest and the other pushing some curls out of his eyes. The stake, what should have been an almost useless weapon against anyone else, was still buried in his chest, piercing his favorite frilled collar shirt. 

"No… Astarion-" Your voice was breaking, thick and raw. Your eyes couldn’t rip away from the stake, protruding from his chest, the poison staining the white linen of his shirt a sickly green. The hand on his chest balled into a fist, bunching the unsoiled fabric in your grip, but something caught your attention. The tiniest candle light of hope in the rapidly encroaching darkness of grief. 

Your hand was directly over his undead heart. Anytime you touched him, your hand always fell directly over his heart. When you teasingly swatted at his chest, when you needed to steady yourself against him, when you needed to catch you balance… you always sought out his heart- subconsciously, instinctually, always his heart. Your hand was over his heart, and that gods-damned stake was four inches to the right. A tiny light, but a light none the less. It was then you realized you were calling the wrong name. 

"SHADOWHEART!" 

None of your companions had ever heard your voice that desperate, that scared.  All their heads snapped to where they had last seen you, finding Astarion pulled to your chest as you wrenched the stake out of the spawn. Astarion stirred only long enough the let our a gurgling shout that fizzled into a groan at the pain, and you could only hope he heard your soft apologies before you started barraging the vampire with healing cantrips. You didn’t stop until the words held no more magic, your supply of magic tapped for the night. 

The night air had changed, no longer fueled by adrenaline and challenge, now it was thick with urgency and fear. Each of your companions starting fighting towards the two of you, and when you locked watery eyes with Shadowheart you found her clearing her path with her spear. She had stopped using magic to fight, saving it all for Astarion.

"I’m coming! Hold on!" She promised as Karlach fell in beside her, battle axe taking over and sending two hunters to the grave together. Scratch and the owlbear cub had taking a lesson from Halsin and formed up beside you, growling into the night with hackles raised and feathers ruffled. 

"Just hold on, Astarion." You relayed to the vampire, who was completely limp against you his back to your chest, head tilted back against your shoulder which bared his neck to you, showing the fang marks on his pale skin. If you were capable of humor, you would have laughed about the reversal of roles, it was usually you baring your veins to him. But at the moment, his lack of movement wasn’t particularly amusing, so instead you laced his fingers through yours, hoping the warmth would bring him some comfort.  You pressed your cheek against his white curls, using your other hand to brandish his dagger just incase anyone got too close, and whispered all the reasons he was going to be okay. And that’s how you stayed until camp quietened and Shadowheart slid to a stop in front of you. 

___

Hours later, Shadowheart had used every healing and restoration spell she knew, not stopping even when she began to sway and sweat. Halsin had offered his magic and healing herbs, Karlach made sure there was always a bucket of hot water and a stack of clean rags available, and you hadn’t missed Gale trying to hide the scroll of reviving from you as he slipped it to Shadowheart.  Everyone in camp had been quick to gather all the healing potions, depositing them at the entrance of Astarion’s tent. Wyll and Lae’zell had slipped into the tree line to make sure the ambush was well and truly taken care of.  

And you? Their appointed ‘fearless’ leader? You had gone uncharacteristically silent. Your heart hadn’t left your throat, clenching painfully every time they jostled the rogue. Your hands were shaking too much, both from fear and white hot rage, to really help the two more experienced healers of the group. And the thought of being too far from Astarion made your stomach turn, so you kept rooted like a tree. But, you were grateful, truly, for all of them. Even if in the moment, all you could do was sit beside Astarion and pray to any God or Devil that would listen. You felt like a wild animal in a cage and a helpless child at the same time, your insides very well might vibrate out of the body if you didn’t melt into the soil first. 

The vampire needed all the help he could get. Aside from the occasional heartbreaking groan of pain or agony driven writhing, Astarion was eerily still. Barely breathing, less so than usual. His already pale, chilled skin had taken on a stony complexion, almost gray. And despite the inability to run a fever, there was a sheen of sweat over his face, clammy and uncomfortable. You hadn’t allowed them to undress him all the way, but part his shirt had been cut away to reveal the stab wound. It was deep, weeping Astarion’s already dark blood, and stretching out from the injury were black, twisting varicose veins that afforded you the cruel visual of the poison spreading. You wanted to take Gale’s revival scroll, use it on the hunter, and revoke the kindness of your mercifully quick death.  

"It’s like the effect of our magic is being dampened." Shadowheart huffed, hands glowing as she cast another restoration spell. The sweat on Astarion’s brow subsided briefly before returning. Halsin nodded beside her, taking a deep sniff of the stake. 

"His lack of blood isn’t moving the potions or antidote through his body fast enough, and this poison isn’t doing any favors." The druid thought aloud, taking some of his herbs to make a paste, "It doesn’t matter how many we pour down his throat if his body can’t absorb them." 

Shadowheart’s worried gaze flickered to you for a moment, before settling back on Halsin, "We’ll figure something out." 

You knew she was saying that more for your benefit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the pity. Instead, your grip tightened on Astarion’s hand as you swiped a clean rag to dab at his face. There was one more round of healing incantations and one more bottle of healing potion nursed into Astarion’s mouth. Your jaw twitched, watching most of it fall from the corner of his mouth. The same trail your own blood usually made after he fed. 

"I’m tapped." Shadowheart sighed almost ruefully, the glow around her flickering and then fading, falling back on her heels. Halsin stood, stooped slightly in the low ceiling of the tent, turning to you. 

"We’ve done everything we can do. We’ll try again with fresh minds in the morning. For now the best he, and we, can do is rest." His voice was calming, as if he thought you might start screaming again, but you just nodded, muttering something along the lines of thanks for trying, and not meeting either of their eyes as they ducked out of the tent.  

Since you had belligerently refused any of their magical attempts to heal your shoulder, Gale had done a rather pitiful job of wrapping it, taking some pointers from Karlach along the way. The wizard offered you a tight smile and a gentle hand on your uninjured shoulder before pressing a bottle of healing potion into your hand, "This one is for you. You’re no good to him if you bleed out all over the floor of his tent. We all know how Astarion feels about waste." 

"Yeah- fancy boy will be starving when he wakes up." Karlach’s chipper voice was still laced with a sting of concern. The tiefling didn’t touch you for fear of burning you, but did leave you with some roasted meat and a carafe of water from earlier in the night, "And it wouldn’t hurt for you to eat something either, soldier." 

Then you were left alone with your thoughts, hunched next to Astarion’s side, tired eyes examining the bottle after confirming the rise and fall of his chest. In your hand, the potion glowed slightly with the subtlest warmth, the scarlet liquid seeming to have a mind of its own as it swirled in glittering patterns behind the glass. Your injuries were meager, this little bottle of healing would have you as good as new. Bitterly, you flicked your eyes to the numerous empty potion bottles in the corner that had barely slowed Astarion’s bleeding. Your hand closed around it as you cast another look to the Vampire spawn beside you. His breaths were shaky and shallow even after Shadowheart and Halsin had exhausted every last bit of magic they'd had. Now in the quietest parts of the night, or maybe the darkest hours of the morning, your thoughts swirled, desperate for any sort of plan to latch onto. You had to do something. 

For you, Gale had said, No good to him if you bled out�� He’d be starving, Karlach had been joking, His lack of blood wasn’t moving the potions enough to be effective, that had been Halsin’s hypothesis.

Blood. He needed blood.

The revelation was like being dropped into a freezing lake, determination razing the fearful lethargy out of your soul. With your teeth, you pried the cork out and downed the first circular bottle, the overly sweet taste a stark contrast to the somber mood of the night. For good measure, you did the same with a potion of superior healing and two bottles of general poison antidote, slamming them down so fast you had to ignore the churning in your stomach. You’d loot twenty more goblin caves to make up for the dent in supplies if you had to, in that moment you just didn’t care. You waited a moment, begging the powers that be for your ragtag plan to work, not so patiently watching the bruises on your wrist until they started to fade.

You felt it, the moment that you had been completely healed and there was no where else for that magic to go. And then, you wrapped your arms under Astarion’s, heaving him against your chest. You bared your neck, letting gravity gently swing Astarion's nose to meet your pulse point, his silvery lashes tickling your jaw. He stirred slightly, groaning at the movement, pressing himself into your warmth before stilling again. Was he too far gone to realize what was being offered? 

Realizing you’d need to play into his vampiric insticts, you huffed, shattering one of the empty vials against a stone, struggling to do so and keep his deadweight in place. Taking a shard, it wasn’t hesitation but a moment of stilling your shaking hand before you pressed a shallow cut to your neck, right above where his lips rested.

You hissed at the haphazard sting, not as gentle as the pinprick of his fangs were in the night, feeling the blood instantly pool at the seam, a single red ribbon dripping before the potion healed the scratch, "C’mon, Astarion-" 

The moment his name left your lips, or maybe it was the moment a drop of your blood hit his, regardless you could feel his instinct, that sanguine hunger, take over. The soft lips at your neck were replaced with dagger sharp fangs digging into where the small cut had been. The sound you let out was somewhere between a gasp of pain and sob of relief as you barred him against yourself, fists clutching into the back of his shirt like it would keep both of you rooted to each other. Somewhere, in the back on your mind, you thought about the irony of the position, being so afraid to let him slip away, like a rabbit latching onto a snake for fear of the serpent starving. Even if it meant being consumed. 

In that moment, you were so relieved he’d started feeding that you didn’t care that his fangs dug in deeper than they ever had before, much more animalistic than his usual polite nibble. You didn’t dare flinch or wince, in case that might break the spell. Instead, you focussed keeping the both of you upright, one of your arms wrapped under his own, your fingers splayed across his ribs, and your other hand cupping the nape of his neck. The angle had his silvery curls dusting your fingertips and your thumb caressing the sharpest part of his jaw. Never had you been so happy to feel that throbbing numbness in your neck. Astarion’s chin prodded further into your neck, deepening the hold he had, and with his own shaky breath, he swallowed the first mouthful of your blood. 

The hand at his ribs clenched, pulling him impossibly closer and twisting his shirt into your grip again as your pulse began to speed up. The increase of your heart rate only seemed to encourage the vampire, teeth sinking ever deeper to draw more blood flow. Clenching your jaw, you forced your muscles not to tense, it would only make it hurt more. This mouthful was quicker, Astarion seemed to be actively drawing it out of you instead of just waiting for it. He swallowed again, gaining the strength to snake his arms around you. It wasn’t a strong hold at first, but one arm snaked around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head, those long fingers finding their usual place in the locks of your hair. You couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped, relishing the cool touch. Your voice stoked another fire in him, provoking another instinct, your blood provided the strength for his grip to harden, becoming more cage like. As if he needed to worry about you trying to escape. 

He swallowed again, and the numbness spread, not just in your neck but into your cheeks and across your chest. Blood was racing, coursing through you and into him, and with it all the magic of the healing potions. You could feel him getting his legs underneath him, untangling himself from you. At the same time, it was getting harder to hold your arm up, the numbness had reached your fingertips leaving them fumbling at his curls before falling to his shoulder. Another long drink and you found your eyes starting to flutter, everything was starting to feel cold as a shiver shook your body. Astarion, against two centuries of vampiric instinct, started to pull back, and you didn’t stop him, but didn’t let him go far either. He was mostly supporting himself now, which was a relief because a fair bit of focus was freshly delegated to preventing yourself from swaying. 

"Take all you need, ’Stari-" You meant for your voice to be assuring and strong, but it came out breathy and slightly slurred. Astarion pulled away, the movement bringing you mostly out of your stupor. His ruby eyes were as sharp as ever once again, even if the shadows under his eyes were still too dark for your liking, and they stared into your own half lidded eyes. Other than the deep purple shadows, the ashen complex had started to even out, the sweat on his brow had faded away, and when you dropped your gaze, you noticed the twisting black veins were starting to recede and fade. Hells, you could get up and dance (very briefly before you passed out).

Even, with a foot in the grave, more dead than usual, and covered in both of your bloods he was unfairly beautiful. His eyes narrowed on your dopey smile, as if he your relief was a symptom of too much blood loss. If that was the effect of four swallows, just a little more would flush out the poison completely, "I can take it, love, just please let me help you." 

Astarion never considered himself to be someone that had to be coaxed into receiving a gift, and you were offering him one so sweetly, practically begging him. After 200 years of rats and spiders, you had put literal magic in your veins for him. Magic that was bringing him back from death to his usual state of undead. He could feel it bringing his strength back, allowing all the magic the cleric and druid had poured into him to finally take some affect. Your blood, his first thinking blood, was always delicious- sweet and metallic, a delicate blend of all the good tastes, something so intrinsically you. With the potions infused, though, if Astarion was to hazard guess what sunlight tasted like- this would be it. How could he refuse? 

Before he went back in, he placed a reverent kiss to the marks he had left in your neck, gingerly lapping at the wounds before sinking his fangs back into your tender flesh. This time, it wasn’t a gasp or sob, but a mewl, your frigid fingers once again digging into the flounced collar his shirt. If you both lived until morning, you were sure he’d gripe for hours about all the wrinkles you’d put in his favorite (only) shirt. Probably throw a proper fit about the stake hole.

Now, as the potions effects dwindled in your own body, you could properly feel the drain. The coldness crept up from your extremities but didn’t counteract the burn in your muscles, making it harder and harder to suppress the shivers. Your breathing was quick almost a pant, but you still felt like you weren't getting any oxygen. If you were thinking rationally, if you hadn’t gone through the brief grief of thinking you’d lost him, you would have realized you need to push him away, that you were approaching your limit. But you weren’t thinking rationally, no. You still were too busy grinning- as your hand had fallen from his collar, it grazed across the wound, now fully closed. Just a little more, you promised yourself. You felt him swallow more, he held himself up completely on his own allowing you to lean into him. 

Astarion was okay, more than just on the mend, he was alive and strong, the potions and magic were working, were the thoughts that were reverberating through your head as things started to feel farther away. Your desperation had melted away, leaving a grateful smile in its wake. It wasn’t completely on purpose, but you let Astarion take on more and more of your weight, barely aware of his fangs in your neck anymore, not quite hearing Scratch and the cub whining outside, the shivering even began to subside as it seemed to take too much energy. 

Earlier, you had drug him to you and held him against your chest almost crying. But, as more of your blood flowed through him, it had become juxtaposed. Astarion held you in place, leaning over you for the best angle at your neck. It was his arms that kept you from falling over, his firm hand that kept your head from lolling too far back. His bite became less fervent, his grip less cage like and more affectionate. His survival instincts started to give way to civility and charm. You barely noticed as he twisted himself so he could slowly, gently lay you down onto the bedroll that had moments ago been his sickbed. He laid you on your back, onto the generous stack of pillows he kept in his tent. He tangled his fingers into yours, just as you had done for him, his knees holding him in a predatory crawl over you, all without breaking from your neck. 

Barely registering the softness, it was the thud of your other hand against the floor that roused you, just a bit. It was also what drew Astarion’s attention, it took everything in him to withdraw his fangs. He gave each puncture would a diligent cleaning with his tongue before pulling away completely, lest he lose control and dive right back in. (Really, how could one person be that tempting?)

But, you had arguably saved his life, it’d be terribly impolite of him to kill you. When Astarion’s eyes met yours, your gaze was more than half lidded as you watched him- what little of your eyes he could see were glossy and fighting to stay focused, he could hear your heartbeat markedly fainter than he was comfortable with. 

You were watching him as intently as you could. In the dim lantern light of his tent, surrounded by potion bottles and bloody rags, Astarion was up and moving and breathing again. Revived and strong, his eyes practically glowing scarlet, and, if you really focussed, you could make out the tips of his ears becoming pink. Something that only happened when he was freshly well fed, nothing was left of his stab wound but the hole in his shirt, the frayed edges dyed from the poison and his blood. He could have looked like a angel, complete with the fire’s reflection creating a halo effect on his snowy curls, had it not been for the sheen of sticky blood drenching his chin and neck. Your blood- the blood that gave him enough strength to heal. How could you not smile? 

Astarion tried to come up with a snarky comment, but for once, nothing came to mind. Instead, he kept glancing between your intertwined fingers, glassy eyes, and that idiotic little smile. Your giddiness was beginning to unnerve him, had you been charmed or perhaps taken a hit to the head? With the parasite, he reached out briefly into your mind. His brow twitched when he was only met with waves of relief and gratitude, you were too tired for structured thought, but too relieved to give into the exhaustion. How could someone on the verge on exsanguination look so happy? And why in the nine hells did it seem to be directed towards his well being? 

The vampire was stricken, taking count of everything you’d truly done that night alone: fought beside him, tried to take the death blow in his place, comforted him, held his hand, cleaned him up, hadn’t let the others undress him anymore than necessary, stayed with him, circumvented his vampirism to find a way to heal him, and had genuinely tried to bleed yourself dry for him. Hell, you’d cut your own neck for him- not even metaphorically, but literally cut your throat for him. He could feel your warmth, your kindness and everything good about you settling into his very marrow. Something uncomfortably… gooey… stirred in his chest, something more and more worrying common as of late, when it came to you. Had his manipulation really worked so well? A feeling too close to sharp guilt gnawed at that warm gooey feeling. Was it really manipulation anymore? Gods, your morality was infecting him.  

“This is that Insufferabe admirability I was talking about ." He muttered into the tent, shaking his head as he watched your chest rise and fall, using his free hand tame some of the hair at your crown. It was then Astarion realized your eyes had slipped shut, your fingers, now just as cold as his, going limp against his. Weeks ago, he would have polished off the last of your blood and left you behind. But at present, he felt the sickening need to return even half the care you’d shown him. He’d have to dissect his emotions later. The rogue was glad the other companions had left supplies within arms reach, as it meant he could gather them without dropping your hand. 

"Ah, ah, ah," He called quietly, gently pulling you back to the real world, pleased to watch your scrunch your nose in the exertion of waking back up. Finally, that contented little smile on your face slipped into a frown, a protest against his interruption of your sleep. Astarion’s smile was almost apologetic as he helped you into a slightly more upright position, "Not quite yet, little love. It’s your turn. No sharing this time."

Another healing potion was pressed into your hand and opened for you, and you allowed Astarion to guide it to your lips, his pale hand guiding your own. This time, the warmth of the elixir was welcome, a comfort instead of a taunt, assurance instead of a plea. Astarion carefully watched you as you swallowed the potion down, noting how you shivered less and a bit of color returned to your face. When the potion bottle was empty, he traded it for a small cup of water, keeping a guiding hand on the silver chalice he’d nicked from a tradesmen weeks ago until you had enough strength to hold it. 

Though still exhausted and dizzy, you had the energy to throw him an obstinate look. Astarion feigned a dramatic sigh but kept a firm enough grip on you that you couldn’t lay back down, "All this for me, yet you won’t even let me give you water?"

Ignoring how it made the dizziness worse, you rolled your eyes, taking a few sips of the water at a time even if it was mostly just so he’d let you lay back down. Astarion was in one piece and you were exhausted, you couldn’t bring yourself to think about anything else. But, Astarion seemed very pleased with himself, squeezing your hand once again, "Good girl." 

If you weren’t on the verge of blood loss, you could have choked on the water. Still, there was a part of you that whispered in relief he must be better if he’s back to teasing you. Astarion watched you take a few more sips before you sagged back against the pillows. Your eyes closed again, but your breathing was deeper now and the hand he held didn’t feel as cold. Outside, Scratch and the cub seemed appeased at your improvement as they stopped their pacing and whining to settle at the tent flap.

This time, he didn’t pull you back up, instead muttering to himself as he gently tilted your head to the side, exposing his bite marks. No wonder you seemed so tired, they were much messier than usual. Vicious, was the better word. Not only had his two fangs pierced your delicate skin, but his bottom canine teeth had punctured through as well, and he could see the outline of his other teeth in the deep bruising grooves they had left behind. In unfortunate addition, it seemed in the height of his blood lust he’d made more than one bite, leaving your neck littered in marks. Astarion grimaced, it really was more of a mauling, “Apologies, darling, I’m not typically so brutish. Forgive me?" 

Astarion pointedly ignored how his heart lifted at the slightest nod you gave him, instead focussing on cleaning you up as gently as possible. The potion had stopped the bleeding, and he watched as the wounds themselves were slowly closing. Each swipe of the rag was feather light, almost not even there. The elf noticed you give back into sleep, this time not bothering to wake you again. Instead he kept working and fussing until the only sign of his feeding was the stained neckline of your shirt. Then, he gently ran a clean, wet rag over your face and hands, taking away the evidence of your tears and worry. Finally, he threw a cloak over you like a blanket, to hopefully ward off the last of the shivers from the warmth he’d stolen from you. 

Not stolen, he reminded himself, though the truth somehow felt more dangerous, it was freely given to him. The vampire settled in, laying across from you, the only part of you he could touch was the hand still holding his. Though, already in your sleep you had shifted towards him. Astarion frowned, eyebrows furrowed, the more he came to know you, the more he knew that you would give and give and give. Truly, he knew that he didn’t need to manipulate you anymore, maybe he never needed to, and for the first time in centuries, he didn’t want to just keep taking. He didn’t want to bleed you dry and loot you for all you were worth. Astarion was surprised to find he wanted give something back to you. He just needed to figure out what.

The nights events caught up to him once again as his eyes closed, listening to the evermore familiar sound of your heartbeat as it became steadier and the even sounds of your breathing as you slept, letting it guide him towards meditation. 

Gods damn you and your insufferable admirability.

___

Part Two Here!

Again this was my first time writing for Astarion. I also tried to balance things into being equal parts in each persons perspective. I just love when two lovestruck idiots have to confront their own feelings about being in love.

[heeliopheelia]

"was that your first kiss?" (heeseung x reader)

genre: fluff word count: 0.7k requested by nonnie ♡

a/n: last heeseung drabble for this event!! i had so much fun writing this, i'll probably expand this idea a little more in the future!! im so tired im falling on my face rn so i'll do a grammar check tomorrow!! 🤍

masterlist

It's hilarious, really, how your campus' it boy Lee Heeseung seems to be absolutely smitten with you.

With the mentioned above man hot on your heels like a shadow, you try your best not to get distracted and keep putting the pile of books back on their rightful place on old shelves. Paying no attention to his stubborn tailing you, you bite back a smile at his soft grunt when he stumbles into another table corner for the nth time this hour.

Without no words needed anymore, you hand him one of the books and he automatically slides it onto the top shelf where you can't reach.

This has been going on for about two months now – you spending your afternoons helping the elderly campus librarian putting back the returned books, and Heeseung entertaining you with his presence as he relentlessly tries to work for this date with you that he's been yearning for for such a long time.

"Are you free this Friday?" He asks suddenly and you send him a glance. He leans one shoulder against the tall bookshelf and beams at you. "We have a game at 6, you have to come. I won't be able to make it into the hoop without seeing your pretty little face cheering on me from the stands."

"Sounds to me like you're not that good of a player if you won't," you bite back playfully but don't say no to his offer. The both of you know well that you'll come just as you did the last five times.

Heeseung's smile broadens as he closes the distance between the two of you a little more. "Every athlete needs a lil something to get them going. In my case it's you, my muse."

You can't help but scoff at his blatant flirtation and with a shake of your head you take a step back in an attempt to get a hold of your hammering heart again.

And with a yelp, you trip over the bag that you've carelessly tossed to the floor some hours before, and stumble forward – straight into Heeseung's chest. Not wasting any second more and risking the chance of you backing away, he takes the opportunity of having you this close to him and cups your chin with his long fingers, only to lean down and plant a kiss right on your lips. You freeze in your place, stunned with the sudden new feeling as you heart nearly beats out of your chest.

He pulls away to check up on you, hoping he didn't cross any of your boundaries, but when he sees your sparkly eyes looking at him with such astonishment, face flushed so fucking adorably, he can't help but mold your lips back together again. He nibbles at the plush of your lip gently, thumb sliding to your chin to tug it down slightly and allowing him to deepen the kiss a little more.

There are no thoughts present on your mind other than Heeseung and his stupidly charming smirk and his stupidly confident attitude and his stupidly handsome face that never seems to leave your mind for even a second.

When he pulls away, he's met with your stunned face, eyes fluttering open and gaping right into his. He bites back a laugh as you remain speechless, a fat blush arising on your cheeks.

"Was that your first kiss?" He ends up asking, hand reaching up to brush the stray strand of hair out of your eyes. When all you do is nod your head sheepishly, eyes desperately avoiding his, he lets a wide grin spread on his lips. "Yeah? I was your first?"

You smack his arm gently and feel your ears burning when he catches your hand and intertwines it with his one.

"Shut up." You say and the quiet mutter squeezes at Heeseung's heart mercilessly.

And, god, he's so pathetic. So in love with you that if his teammates caught him in such state, he probably wouldn't hear the end of it until the day of his graduation.

"So you'll come? Right?"

With a roll of your eyes you close the distance parting your faces and mumble into his lips, "Yes, you idiot."

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi @nichoswag @s00buwu @dazzlingligth

[bitchesuntitled]

Lies, Excuses and Bullshit

Pairing: Exboyfriend!Dave York x f!Reader

Summary: A man with a double life willing to do anything to keep his obsession around, and a woman who doesn't know what she's gotten herself into.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI, go on get! Breaking up, creepy!Dave, infidelity, stalker behavior from Dave, oral(f receiving), spanking, unprotected PIV(make smarter choices), manipulation, and if there is anything I missed please let me know!

A/N: Phew, not sure what happened here. This is a first, I don't usually write darker stuff but something about Dave made it just fly out of my finger tips. This was written for @punkshort's AU August Challenge! Thank you Shortie for letting me be part of the challenge 😊 I need to shout out @beefrobeefcal @strang3lov3 @ozarkthedog and @mothandpidgeon thank you all for the encouragement and lending your eyeballs for this story! ❤️

@jay-zzle, my love, my bestie. This one is for you! 🥰❤️🥰❤️

Masterlist||AO3

divider by @saradika-graphics

You thought things were fine. Dave is the perfect gentleman. It is a complete shock to see this text from your friend. It was a picture of Dave with another woman and two little girls at a soccer game. Maybe it’s his niece's soccer game and he’s just there being a good uncle? Until the next text comes in.

Isn’t that your boyfriend?

Another picture is attached featuring Dave, his arm around the woman. Then another and another and another. More evidence to suggest he is obviously in a relationship with the woman and you are the one left in the dark on this whole situation.

You stopped responding to your friend a while ago, staring at the pictures they sent. Back and forth, memorizing every detail. The way he’s looking at her. The way his arm is around her. The way he’s touching her. The way he kissed her -  that was the one that sealed your fate of knowing you had in fact not been seeing a recently divorced man but a married one. Your phone buzzes with another text notification.

D. York: Hey baby, still picking you up at 9 right?

You glare at your phone unsure of what the next step is. Obviously he is cheating on his wife unbeknownst to you. How does somebody even handle something like this? You really liked Dave, you saw a future with him. Your relationship has been going on for months now.

After neglecting to respond your phone buzzes again with another text from the man himself.

D. York: Been thinking about you 

You roll your eyes and text him back.

You: Not tonight. Don’t feel good.

D. York: Aw you poor thing. Do you need anything?

You didn’t even have the energy to respond with this new found information rattling around your brain, pressing the button to make your phone sleep and making your way to your bedroom. You plugged your phone in and crawled into bed, ignoring the constant buzz against your nightstand as you tried to drift off. The sun was still out but you couldn’t be awake right now. You needed to shut your brain off and this was the only way you knew how.

There was a pounding on your door when you woke with a startle. The moon casting shadows through the curtains into your room. You checked your phone, seeing the multiple notifications, some from your friends and some from Dave. He’d also tried calling several different times.

D. York: Are you okay?

Did you talk to him yet?

D. York: Do you want some company?

Want me to kick his ass?

D. York: How are you feeling?

What do you plan to say?

D. York: Baby, please answer me. Getting a little worried here.

The pounding on your door continued as you checked your phone. The doorbell camera he insisted on getting for you and installed showed Dave at your doorstep holding a plastic bag, grumbling, you got out of bed and walked towards the door.

“I’m coming. Give it a rest,” you shout, hoping Dave can hear you over his loud knocks.

Sliding the chain lock you open the door.

“Baby,” Dave sighs with relief, “What have you been doing? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours now!”

“I told you, I don’t feel good,” you shrug, “I’ve been sleeping.”

“I’m sorry to wake you, I started to get worried,” Dave says, looking around your living room, “I got you some stuff to hopefully help with whatever bug you’ve seemed to catch.”

You watch as he carefully steps into your space, placing the bag on the coffee table in front of your couch.

“Dave,” you sigh, “I know.”

“Know what?” Dave asks, hands on his hips and shaking his head with a smirk.

“I know you’re still married.”

You see his adam's apple bob as he swallows, flopping back onto the couch, and clasping his hands together. He stays silent for a moment, contemplating what to say next.

“How’d you find out?”

Your eyes widen, not expecting him to fold so easily. 

“A friend sent me some photos from today at the soccer field,” you murmur, trying to keep the wavering in your voice to a minimum.

“I see,” Dave says with a nod.

“You also have kids?”

Dave nods again, facing you this time.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Dave scoffs, “Sleep with you?”

“I wouldn’t just call what we’ve been doing as ‘sleeping together,’ Dave,” you say, using your fingers as air quotes when the words sleeping together leave your mouth.

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Dave chuckles, “I get bored from time to time and like to play with someone new.”

“Your wife know that?” you ask, glaring at him. This man who you thought you knew is showing an entirely different side of himself, and you don’t like it.

“She doesn’t need to know because it’s not a big deal.” Dave sighs exasperated.

“I think it’s best if you left.”

“Alright,” Dave says standing, “If that’s what you want.”

“Yep,” you say with a sharp nod.

“Listen,” Dave says, reaching a hand towards your arm, and you slid your arm back letting him know not to touch you, and he put his hand down beside him, “Okay, well, it’s really not as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be. I like you, I like what we’ve been–”

“Dave, you’re cheating on your wife,” you grit through your teeth interrupting the spiel he was going on, and swung the door open for him, “Leave.”

—

“Fucking take it.” Dave growls in your ear, thrusting his hips harshly into you, “Just like that baby.”

Your moans fill his ears, he can tell you’re close. The way your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him tighter. He can practically taste your climax in the air around him, gripping your hips tighter and angling them so he can get deeper.

“Dave,” you sob, after a particularly harsh thrust. Fingers gripping the sheets beneath you, back arching as you continue to cry out his name.

Dave. Dave. Dave.

“David!”

Dave jumps to the sound of Carol’s voice. Looking around to see he’s in his own bed in his home, not yours.

“Honey, your alarm has been going off for 10 minutes now.”

He lets out a sigh facing his reality, adjusting the hardness in his pajama bottoms. It was just a dream. It’s been months since he’s seen you. You’ve seemed to make your way into his brain at all times of the day, conscious or not.

“I’m gonna get the girls ready but you don’t need to be late for work again,” Carol says, giving him a smile and wink. After last night, he’s not sure how much longer he can do this. He’s been trying to have sex with Carol more. Sure, she’s his wife but she doesn’t scratch the same itch you did.

He’s tried. He’s tried to be a good husband, he’s tried to be a good dad and he’s exhausted. Dave feels himself becoming more of a shell since you told him to leave.

You’ve made it abundantly clear you want nothing to do with him. He tried to reach out to you, only to have his number blocked. You disabled your doorbell camera after he left that night. You must have known he’d try and look at it on his phone, you knew he had the information for your account. Why wouldn’t he try to look?

What you don’t know is that once Carol takes the girls to school, he gets the second phone hidden in the false bottom of a shoe box in his closet that is an exact copy of your own. He can see who you’re texting, where you’re at, how things at work are going, who you’re hanging out with. It’s become an obsession to check it daily.

—

As he steps out of the shower, Carol shouts up the stairs that she’s leaving with the girls, and the front door closes shortly after. Time to start his day.

Getting dressed in his running gear and snatching his headphones from the dresser. He makes his way to the closet. Finding the shoe box with your duplicated phone.

Texts from your friends, a text from your boss and a missed call from your mom. What catches his eye the most is the notification from some jackass on Tinder. James. Scanning James’ profile he’s definitely not your type: blonde hair, green eyes, gelled back hair, and a full beard.

James, 29

Looking for a girl who just wants to have some fun, if it leads to more that’s cool too. I like hiking, graduated from Harvard, hanging with my bros, anything else hmu

Dave shakes his head as he reads the messages shared between the two of you. He scans reading hellos, good nights, sharing random facts about each other, until he stumbles upon the most recent messages

James: Hello gorgeous 😉

Hello 😊

James: So I’ve been thinking would you wanna meet up? Go get a drink or something?

Sure! 7 good?

James: Awesome! Yeah. Do you know where Sal’s is?

I do! It’s not far from my job

James: Perfect! I’ll see ya then beautiful

No. No way in hell is this James guy meeting up with you. Dave calls the office letting them know he’s taking a personal day, he has some business to take care of.

—

Sal’s is exactly what you expected it to be. Dark, dingey, and small. Not too crowded thankfully, it’s definitely got character though. The random decor on the wall is confusing. You can’t tell if this is supposed to be a sports or a punk bar with the random band posters on the wall along with sports jerseys next to them.

Making your way to the bar you sit down on a stool, flagging down the bartender.

“What’s your poison for the night?” He asks, wiping his hands on the towel he was carrying.

“Jack and Coke,” you say, slipping your hand into your bag to get your wallet out. He makes quick work of mixing the drink and placing it in front of you, handing over your card while you hear the jingle of the door.

“Starting a tab?” The bartender asks, swiping your card.

“No, thank you,” you smile as he hands your card back to you, putting it back in your wallet.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see someone standing a couple stools away. Looking down at your drink, moving the straw around before taking a drink. You take a peek at your watch to see it’s 10 minutes before you’re supposed to meet James. 

Maybe this was a bad idea, you haven’t had to do this in months. It was easier when Dave just kind of fell into your life.

“Whiskey on the rocks.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up when you heard the familiar timber of his voice, head snapping to look at him. Dave. His smirk as he waits on his drink says it all, he knew you would be here. Was he James?

“Are you fucking serious?” You hiss through your teeth.

Dave thanks the bartender, moving closer to you.

“I come in peace,” Dave says, sitting in the stool one away from you, “All I want to do is talk.”

“Are you James?” You ask through clenched teeth, glaring at him.

“Oh baby,” Dave tuts, “I’m not James, he’s very real.”

You continue to glare at him. Unable to force your brain to work with your limbs on moving, leaving, throwing your drink on him. Anything other than sitting here being in his presence.

“He wasn’t hard to convince to leave you alone though,” Dave looks at you with a smirk, one eyebrow raised and begins to chuckle, “One mention of snapping any finger that touches you sent him running.”

You try to swallow but your throat feels like a desert, gripping the tumbler in front of you and taking a swig. Did he… did he do something to James? Surely not, Dave wouldn’t even kill the spider that appeared in your apartment one day, scooped it up and took it outside. How could he cause harm to anything?

“Dave did you…” pausing pondering how to even ask the question.

“Did I hurt him?” Dave asks, scooting to the stool next to you and leaning in closer, invading your space and you nod your head, “No, just made it known what’s mine.”

You let out a sharp gasp at his words, arousal seeping into the gusset of your underwear, thighs clenching together at his closeness, feeling goosebumps erupt across your skin. This shouldn’t be happening but your body thinks otherwise.

“I’ve missed you baby,” Dave hums into your ear, “Don’t like how we ended things.”

The way he says it has the ice around your heart melting. You hate him but can’t help the way your heart betrays your brain at his words. Dave lets out a small growl, gripping your bare thigh beneath the bar top possessively.

“I’m staying in a hotel room tonight,” he says, the grip on your thigh becoming less and smoothing his hand against your inner thigh. Gliding his hand up, up, up. Pinky finger playing with the edge of your underwear under your skirt.

You grab his hand and pull it away from your core, bringing it to rest on your lap. Lacing your fingers with his, while his thumb rubs along your palm. You sigh, contemplating what to do. Go with him or send him packing like last time. The devil on your shoulder telling you to go with him, it’s just stress relief, it won’t- it can’t mean anything, he knows your body better than anyone else. The angel on the other side just repeating the same words, he’s still married.

In the words of your mother, if he doesn’t cheat with you then he’ll just find someone else. Might as well have fun.

“I’ve missed you too,” you confess with a soft whimper in his ear. Finally seeing him again after months of nothing has your practical sense crumbling. 

“Let’s go then,” Dave smirks, standing pulling your hand slightly to stand with him and leave.

—

Dave drove like a bat out of hell to the hotel, dragged you to the elevator and his room as if this was his last chance to have you. Clothes flying off the moment you crossed the threshold of the room.

“Dave,” you moan, his lips ghosting down your neck to your collarbone. His hands grip your ass, pulling you flush against his front, feeling his erection against your stomach.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” he groans, his mouth sucking the flesh of your breast, capturing your nipple in his mouth and giving it a nip. A whine escapes past your lips at the sudden pressure of his teeth, moving your body with him until you feel the back of your knees hit the bed.

Dave releases your nipple, pushing himself against you to lay back on the bed, making room for himself between your thighs. His dark eyes swimming with lust study your face. His hand comes to rest on your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek.

“Why’d you let me leave like that?” His voice barely a whisper, lying his forehead against your own.

“You’re married,” you wince hearing the words leave your throat. You shouldn’t be doing this.

“I can change that,” he smirks with a chuckle, kissing the corner of your mouth, “I’d leave if it meant you’d stay,” kissing your jaw, “I’d spend every single day of my life making you happy,” he coos, trailing his lips down to your neck, laving his tongue against your pulse point.

“Dave,” you plead, hoping to stop his words. You don’t want to hear this, it’s all lies to get you to stay. The ache between your thighs begging for more.

“Mean it baby,” Dave says with a hum, mouth traveling down the expanse of your body, “Only want you,” he breathes when his face inches away from your sex, “Looks like you want me too,” he teases.

You feel the warmth spreading through your body as he sighs using his thumbs to spread your lips apart, staring at your glistening slit.

“Oh yeah, she’s definitely missed me,” he hums, flicking his tongue against your clit.

“Dave,” you gasp, gripping the sheets between your fingers. He works his tongue along your bundle of nerves swirling and sucking.

“God I’ve missed this pussy,” Dave growls, gripping your hips tightly before fucking you with his tongue.

“Fuck,” you moan, back arching off the bed. The fire in your abdomen grows more intense. You reach for one of his hands, linking your fingers with his. His other hand moving, fingers prodding at your entrance.

“Please,” you beg, “Dave, pl- please. More, I- I need m-“, you cry out when his fingers plunge into your cunt. Swiftly curling them inside you as he moves the pads of his fingers back and forth putting delicious pressure against your g-spot.

“That’s it baby,” Dave groans, nipping your inner thigh, “Let me have it.”

Your toes curl feeling the coil in your lower belly tightening, leaning your head up to watch him. He looks as wrecked as you feel as he rapidly flits his tongue against your clit. His brows furrowed in concentration as he worked his mouth and fingers in sync for you to reach your climax, his lips shiny from your arousal. He opens his eyes to see your mouth hung open in a silent scream, brows pinched together as you pant looking into his eyes.

“Dave,” you pant, “Baby, I’m gonna come.”

Your walls clamp down on his fingers as you stare into his dark orbs. White hot heat spreads throughout your body, letting out a soft shriek.

“Flip over,” Dave instructs, moving your pliable limbs so you’re on your stomach. You cry out as he pushes his cock into you sharply.

“Fuck.”

“Shhh,” Dave tuts, “It’s okay baby, you can take it.”

You whine, it feels like he’s splitting you in two, walls gripping his length. He doesn’t give you a moment to adjust before he’s roughly snapping his hips into you.

“Make you mine again,” Dave grunts, “No one else deserves you.”

The pain quickly turns into pleasure as he works his cock in and out. The sound of your squelching pussy filling your ears as strangled noises crawl up your throat.

“God damn baby,” Dave hisses, tilting your hips up as he grinds his hips into you, hitting that spot deep inside only he’s been able to reach.

“Missed this so,” he grunts, slapping your ass, “Fucking,” another slap against your skin, “Much,” another harsh slap before soothing the marks he’s left with his palm.

“Dave,” you let out a choked sob, feeling the pleasure building, thrusting your hips back into him, “Faster.”

“Dirty girl,” Dave hums, gripping your hips again, pounding into your pussy at a frantic pace, “You gonna- oh fuck- come again?”

You can only nod your head weakly, feeling the sizzling pressure in your abdomen start to boil over. Your walls spasming and contracting around his cock. The muscles in your legs tensing before screaming out.

“Oh fuck,” Dave moans, “That’s it baby. Come on my cock. Just like that.”

Dave leans over caging you between his arms, thrusting into your wet heat a half a dozen times before his hips start to lose rhythm and going still, your name tumbling from his lips, letting your walls milk his cock feeling the warmth of his seed paint your walls.

“I really have missed you,” Dave admits slumping against you with a sigh, “So fucking much.”

He kisses your shoulder before pulling out with a hiss. You groan feeling the emptiness before he helps you up, guiding you to the bathroom.

You shower together, taking time to wash each other with delicate touches, and sharing intimate kisses before crawling back into bed with his arms wrapped around you.

You wake sometime in the middle of the night. Dave’s snoring beside you, finding your phone amongst your belongings scattered around the room, you make your way to the bathroom. Looking at Dave sleeping so peacefully from the doorway of the bathroom you can’t help feeling torn. You loved him, still do if you’re being honest with yourself, but this isn’t what you two should be doing.

You find an uber available and schedule to be picked up. Quietly making your way out of the bathroom and grabbing your things when you hear two identical dings. One from your hand and one from Dave’s bag. Slipping your clothes back on you slowly wander over to his things. Rummaging around until you find a phone, similar to yours. Pushing the button on the side you see a notification for an Uber 5 minutes away, looking at your own phone to see it displaying the same.

“What the fuck?” You whisper to yourself, head snapping to look at Dave hoping you didn’t wake him. You look around to find a pen and piece of paper.

—

Dave wakes the next morning with a smile, remembering what happened last night. Sliding his hand to where you should be, feeling the cool sheets under his palm, peeking an eye open to see the empty spot next to him.

He listens closely to his surroundings, hoping to hear the shower but is met only with silence. Frowning as he sits up, scrubbing his hands against his face trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. Looking around the room for any sign of you, taking note of your things being gone.

He sees a folded piece of paper lying on top of something on the dresser. Dave gets up to inspect what it is. His name is on the paper, sitting on top of two phones. Immediately recognizing one as yours and the other the duplicate he had made. His eyes scan the note you left, unable to believe what he was reading.

You’ll never be anything but a lying, cheating, manipulative douchebag. Figure your shit out. Don’t ever reach out to me again.

Dave’s hand curls into a fist as he reads the note over and over again. You left. You really left and this time it’s going to be even harder to find you.

He smirks, shaking his head as he collapses on the edge of the bed. You must not realize how much he loves a challenge.

[fen-luciel]

The mistakes of a Acolyte

4

Chapters

Summary: You are pregnant with Qimir's child and the universe is not big enough to hide you from him.

There was an embarrassed silence for a few minutes before Sol decided to clear his throat.

"I understand the fear, but this time we'll be more prepared, we won't let him even touch you" I looked at him unsure, I didn't know what was worse, if I brought them there and he was there... even hiding my belly, being seen with the Jedi would be a death sentence, or he could speak out of turn and get me arrested while he escaped, the possibilities were endless and each worse than the other.

"Excuse me, I need... to wash my face" my hands trembled as I tried to get up, Yord beside me stood up worried before offering me a hand which I quickly took, with a nod he pointed me to the bathroom and I hurried there.

The door opened automatically and I rushed inside, closing the door behind me, the sterile light illuminating the small room burned my eyes.

When I rubbed them, I realized the problem, unshed tears filled my lashes, the burning sensation I was starting to feel was the familiar one of crying.

I turned off the light and turned on the smaller, dimmer one above the mirror, in the dark I took a few deep breaths, hands resting on the rectangular sink before placing one on my belly and gently rubbing it.

The dark atmosphere calmed my nerves and fortunately, I managed to hold back the tears, turning on the water I washed my face with my still trembling hands, my shadowed reflection in the mirror was terrible, like the night before, it was written on all my features how bad I felt, the almost sickly purple bags under my eyes, the reddened irises, a disaster that seemed only to worsen.

As I took more breaths, I realized there was talking in the background happening a few meters from me, I could hear them discussing even with the door closed, especially Yord who seemed to have a particularly loud tone.

I pressed my ear to the door to better understand what they were talking about.

"I'm just saying we could try another way" the rhythmic sound I heard was probably his nervous footsteps, I could imagine him pacing back and forth nervously. "I don't like doing this either, but it's our best way," Jecki replied calmly. "We can get an approximate direction and go—" "With the risk of being discovered?" Sol interrupted her.

"And if he's really there? Maybe waiting for us. He'll assume we've rummaged through his things and found his partner" Jecki speculated. "Ex-partner" Yord immediately intervened afterward.

There was a few seconds of silence, I could imagine them looking at each other grimly. "He could be waiting for us with traps, or see us coming and escape while we search for the way, in the best-case scenario he'll be there to retrieve the last things before disappearing, we must seize the opportunity while it's available. He was injured the last time we clashed but I doubt it will slow him down, we must keep up" more muffled sounds followed, and some words I didn't quite catch as they continued to speak in a more controlled tone.

"We should at least give her time to process and understand if she wants to—" Yord's tone was irritated, you could hear it a mile away, but again Jecki intervened. "We must act now. We can help calm her nerves, but we need her and now."

I pressed my forehead against the metal door, weakly rubbing my eyes, I took a deep breath.

I had to think clearly, now more than ever I was caught between two fires ready to explode in my face, what was happening to me? What was I doing? How many times had I already said the wrong thing without even realizing it?

Was this farce I was carrying on the problem?

Had I become too weak?

Had these months of calm made me more docile or was it just me wanting to be? After all, it had already happened many years before.

Sure.

It had already happened.

When everything around you is a lie, you adapt to it, believe you are part of it, accept it, and carry on that fairytale.

I was doing it again, I had adapted to that desire that had started growing in my chest.

To be a normal person, a mother, a civilian like everyone else.

But I had never been that.

I had never been a victim.

Even what Qimir did to me. I let him do it, because deep down, it was what I wanted.

To feel loved regardless of the consequences, of how it would present itself and how I would live it.

I knew what I had to do.

I left the bathroom after washing my face again.

Immediately everyone turned to me, so I gave an encouraging smile. "Sorry, I needed a moment to think. I'll do it... I just ask that you keep me informed of the plan, if something goes wrong I want to understand it. Especially to escape the danger if it arises" I announced with a deep breath.

The reactions I received were different, it was obvious that Yord was not happy about it, Jecki nodded impassively, but Sol was clearly happy with my choice.

"Certainly, we'll organize the plan this afternoon and let you know when we've decided" Sol replied. I nodded before taking a few steps forward. "If it's not a problem, I'd like to go home, especially if we have to leave early, maybe put some clothes in a bag, or retrieve my old blaster." The three nodded. "If all goes well, you'll be away from home for a maximum of one day, but it's right to prevent, thank you again" Sol replied with a slight bow that I returned.

"Wait, I'll accompany you" Yord offered me an arm which I took with a smile. "Thank you"

We left the ship at a slower pace, the city was fully awake by now, the streets were full of busy civilians, but they seemed to easily step aside as we passed, whether to help a pregnant woman or for fear of the Jedi I couldn't tell.

"You're not obligated if you don't want to" Yord suddenly said, I looked at him with a small smile on my lips, he was deliberately avoiding my gaze, walking with a rigid posture, eyes fixed ahead of him.

"It's okay Yord. I want to end this story. Maybe for real this time" the only response I received was a snort from his nose, it was a rather amusing reaction despite everything, although I didn't understand the reason, sure Sol and Jecki were also worried, but he seemed on another planet.

"How sweet, you're worried" I intoned teasingly as I slightly squeezed his arm, the muscle contracting under my fingers.

"Of course I am. We are putting a pregnant woman in danger, I know you're not inexperienced, but we're Jedi, we should protect you, not ask you to be on the front line" I exhaled a snort of amusement. "Well, I have my Jedi knight to protect me, don't I?" I gave him a playful smile, but I could clearly see a slight dark blush on his cheeks.

When we reached my building he accompanied me to the door of my apartment where I let go of his arm.

"See you then?" he nodded before crossing his hands behind his back in a rigid posture. "We'll contact you as soon as we're organized, I'd tell you to bring something you need so maybe prepare a bag, but I don't think we'll contact you before evening. So rest" rummaging in his pockets he handed me a small comlink which I put in my pocket.

"See you later"

I closed the door behind me, the comlink left on the kitchen table as I quickly headed to the bedroom.

I had to do things right if I wanted to get out clean, to kriff with the Jedi, Qimir, and this shitty life I had tried to get into, peace had never existed, all the notions that had been taught to me were dictated by hypocrisy, but I had come out of it and I would come out of it this time too.

Rummaging through the closet, I took a loose shirt to put on, took off my shoes for comfort, and quickly tied my hair in a messy bun on my head.

Sure, if he didn't answer... but at that point, I didn't care, I would make another plan and another until I freed myself from the problem.

I sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, the shutters were still down leaving the room dimly lit, I took deep breaths before closing my eyes, hands resting on my legs.

Over the years Qimir and I had developed a direct bond in the force, which had helped us on many occasions, the more time passed the easier it was for us to use it and outside it was almost impossible to perceive us. In recent months Qimir had repeatedly tried to call me through the force, I had closed the bond as soon as I escaped into hyperspace, the first days were a nightmare, he tried to contact me in every way, dozens of times a day, forcefully. It was obvious he was furious, he immediately realized something was wrong, he was more the type to disappear without saying anything, I wasn't. I would have warned him, I would have told him what I had to do, when I would return, anything, I was paranoid by nature and Qimir was a companion, so it seemed logical to tell him everything.

Even when I had to keep a low profile, I found a way to warn him of the problem, that day 5 months earlier, however, was particularly calm, we weren't doing anything special, so when I took my things and left it took him less than 12 hours to realize something was wrong.

The first calls were calm but insistent, when he realized I didn't intend to answer him, he got furious.

It was absurd how, despite being equals, his presence made me uncomfortable. It was a change I hadn't perceived. It took me five months to realize that what was happening was wrong.

And now I had to reactivate the bond.

And talk to him.

The last time he thought it was a dream, and he still managed to hurt me. I couldn't let him terrify me.

I tried several times, taking deep breaths, trying to reach him through the Force, but between the back pain and the nerves, I could barely concentrate.

I needed to relax, to find his familiar signature.

I lay on my side and closed my eyes again. I had to find Qimir, I had to remember his presence. The night before, we had connected in a dream, more out of visceral instinct, probably. I had emptied my mind of him, had forced myself to forget him, but the arrival of the Jedi had awakened everything, and it would have been hypocritical to deny the truth.

I was worried about him.

Where he was, if he was hurt, if he felt lonely... because of me.

My heart tightened in my chest. A tear rolled down my cheek, but I wiped it away with my sleeve. I hugged one of the pillows to my chest, seeking comfort, rubbing my face against the soft fabric.

The truth was that I missed Qimir terribly.

No matter how much I lied to myself, there was a void in my heart that only he had filled. He would have been so happy to know about this child, would have been by my side, worried about my well-being, massaging my back, and cooking my favorite dishes every day.

I loved him.

And he loved me.

But... the dark side of him wasn't just due to what he had gone through. There was something more visceral, possessive, violent... something that he took out on me.

I thought we were on the same page, that we were equals. But he didn't see it the same way.

I tried again, my arms tightening around the pillow. I tried to imagine him there with me, his delicate yet strong scent, reminiscent of a rain-soaked forest, the warmth of his body, the defined muscles, the numerous scars felt under my fingertips, his soft lips on my forehead... and it was then that I felt him.

It was like seeing a house with an open door from afar. He hadn't noticed that I was searching for him, trying to reach him, but he had left the door open, waiting for me.

And that's how I reached him. The darkness behind my closed eyes was soon illuminated by a cold blue light. I rubbed my eyes from the discomfort before realizing I had made it. My physical form had projected through the Force near Qimir.

I immediately recognized the place, the one I had hinted at to the Jedi. I immediately knew I was right. He had returned here, perhaps for the map, perhaps just to hide.

Looking quickly around, I noticed nothing different from usual. In fact, nothing seemed to have changed at all. It was an old stone room we had turned into our bedroom, although at first glance, it looked more like a storage room. Scrolls, books, devices of all kinds were placed in every corner, on the floor, under or on top of furniture. The windows, usually covered with rudimentary curtains we had hung, were now open, showing the night sky outside.

Walking towards the back of the room, I noticed a backpack carelessly placed on the floor, his clothes haphazardly thrown nearby, and then I spotted some bloodstains but ignored them. I knew who he had fought with, and I remembered Sol and Yord talking about an injury.

And finally, there he was, lying on an old double mattress against the wall at the back, pillows and blankets messily strewn on top, surrounding his sleeping body. A small bandage wrapped around his arm, but apart from that, he seemed fine. He had his back to me, sleeping deeply, his hair tousled on the pillow. I wanted to approach him while he was still asleep, to watch him while he was still peaceful, but I couldn't risk it.

So I did what I had come for.

I approached the small table next to the bed where he kept a flask of some foul-smelling drink and began to hit the metal surface with an open hand, once, twice, three times until Qimir woke up, pulled the lightsaber to him, and ignited it in my direction, terribly confused even as he tried to stand.

"I leave you alone for a few months, and this is the result?" I started, approaching the bed with a flat tone.

I had to be confident. I had dressed specifically to hide the curves of my pregnancy. If I showed any hesitation, he would realize I was hiding much more than I was letting on.

The surprise on his face was almost endearing, his eyes wide and still a bit clouded by alcohol. It took him a few seconds of silence to fully register what was happening.

"Sabrina..." he began to get up from the bed, but I stopped him with a gesture of my hand.

"Let's skip the pleasantries. You're in deep shit" He slowly sat back down on the mattress before deactivating the lightsaber, suspicion clear in his gaze.

"What are you doing here? You disappear for months and then come back to do what exactly?" There was acidity in his tone. This wasn't the dream he thought he was having. He didn't know I was really pregnant, and he didn't see me crying or sad. This probably wasn't the kind of reunion he hoped for. It was just me, waking him rudely and treating him with indifference.

"I've come to warn you. The Jedi know where you're hiding and will be here soon" The surprise and then the confusion were clear in his features. He opened his mouth to speak, but I didn't let him start. "The idiot you were dragging along talked, but I guess you suspected that already. They found... our photo" I added the last part with a frustrated sigh.

"Wait, they found you? Were you captured?" He jumped up, reaching out a hand toward me, but I stepped back a few paces.

"No. I convinced them I was an unaware colleague of yours. But they knew too much, and I had to say some things"

The more details I added, the more confused he seemed. He tilted his head in that cute way I often teased him about, and I held back a smile. It wasn't the right time.

"I'll have to bring them here. We'll probably arrive in less than two days, maybe even sooner. So pack the most important things and hide them on the ship, especially all the Sith artifacts. I don't want those dogs touching or, worse, destroying everything we've recovered..." Without realizing it, I started pacing back and forth in front of him, lost in my thoughts. It was true that many of the things were scattered across the various hideouts we had, but what we wanted to study and analyze, we kept within reach.

Needless to say, between things to do, other... hobbies, and the undeniable laziness of both of us, a lot of things had accumulated here too.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when Qimir suddenly grabbed my wrist. I turned quickly, my heart pounding in my chest, mentally cursing myself for letting my guard down so easily. I shouldn't have let him get too close. Yet in his gaze, I read none of the emotions that made my knees tremble. He looked at me with an unreadable expression.

"Are you okay? How did you reach me without getting caught?" I exhaled deeply before yanking my wrist away from his warm hand. I was sure he noticed my accelerated heartbeat, but it wasn't unusual given the situation we were in.

"Yes. I'm... in a hotel I rented. They left me alone to decide a plan. I hoped to contact you after knowing it, but I doubt I'll have time. We need to think carefully about what to do next." I cleared my throat before sighing. "If you just want to leave before they arrive, I understand. But make sure not to leave any traces. I told that Jedi about our map. If they don't find it, you'll have time to hide and heal," I continued, nodding towards his arm. He shrugged in response, making an irritated grimace. "I'm fine. It's nothing."

"And you? They know about us now. Do you really think they'll let you go?" he continued. I gave him a half-arrogant smile. "I was very convincing in my story. They think I'm just a former colleague and lover. They actually want to protect me from you" I said mockingly, but instead of smiling as I hoped, he lost every ounce of lightness he had. The rigid posture of his back and the darkening gaze made my toes numb from how tightly I was keeping them to avoid stepping back.

"A hotel? Is that what you've been doing for five months? Wandering the galaxy doing what? You left without telling me anything, cutting me off from the bond, and now you reappear, warning me about the Jedi" he began to slowly step towards me with a gloomy look. The anxiety gnawed at my stomach, but I had to keep the façade.

Attack was the best defense, after all.

"And you? I leave for a while, and you find an acolyte, get caught by the Order, and then what?" He stopped mid-step, fists clenched at his sides. I could see how tightly he was keeping his arms contracted. It was obvious he was furious, but my words had hit him at least a little.

"I was looking for you. But I didn't want to let the Jedi go. At one point, I even thought they had taken you, that you had run away to keep me safe... but it seems I was wrong" the last sentence was almost growled, as I raised my arm towards him and instinctively grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards me. With my other hand, I grasped the t-shirt he used for sleeping, forcing him to bend down to my eye level.

The unexpected movement left him silent as he looked back at me, confused.

"I feel like I've always been honest with you all these years. I've always told you everything. I've included you in my personal and non-personal life. For once when I needed my own space, you're angry? And how should I feel?" Both of us were short of breath, our gazes hard, too many things left unsaid, or at least, I was hiding everything from him and continued to lie to his face, since we were friends, an unspoken rule was that I was always honest with him, not because he asked me or some code imposed it on me, but because if there was something my past experiences had taught me, keeping secrets only led to disasters.

But this was different. I had to lie.

I pushed him away from me and he didn't resist. "I'm trying to help you in case you hadn't noticed."

Qimir snorted before crossing his arms over his chest. The muscles in his arms bulged with the movement. Had he become even bigger while I was away? I mentally pinched myself at the thought. It was really the wrong time to fantasize about those arms.

"I have no intention of leaving you alone with the Jedi. Maybe you've tricked them for now, but it's obvious they won't let this go so easily. If they decide to report this to the higher-ups, sooner or later someone will recognize you. And you don't know when or how. I'm staying. And I'm taking you with me," I swore I heard his voice grow huskier towards the end, but I ignored the shiver down my spine and cleared my throat.

"I know. But we have to keep up this facade until the end. At least as an emergency plan"

The silence that followed was tense, almost suffocating. I rubbed my eyes tiredly, and swore I saw him lean towards me for a second before dropping his hands to his hips again, probably bitter and disheartened by how this conversation was going.

"I could pretend to kidnap you" he hypothesized. "You said you're playing the victim, right? Tell me what you told them and maybe I could-"

"No. We want them to leave us alone, not to pursue us more aggressively" it was obvious things would only get worse if we pretended a kidnapping. They were bringing me there, pregnant, by that time they would have felt responsible and there would have been chances that they would call the council. "We have to make sure you slip from under their noses. They mustn't realize you knew about their arrival. But... you could hurt me" an idea finally flashed through my mind. "Of course, they don't know about my Force abilities, you have to attack me-" I began to pace the room as a plan formed in my mind. "No, wait, I don't want to hurt you—" "—as if you could" I interrupted with a mocking tone.

Maybe it was the fact that we weren't really in the same room, maybe it was the months apart, but I felt much less uncomfortable now in his presence, and having the upper hand gave me more confidence. Sure, Qimir wasn't stupid, but I had the advantage. And I needed to get rid of him like the Jedi.

"I told them we were engaged and that I ran away when I realized you were dangerous—" he rolled his eyes before making an irritated grimace "—we can pretend I betrayed you, you attack us in anger, I slip inside and reach the ship we have down here. While you fight the Jedi, I'll activate the doors to buy you time. They'll think a droid helped you, and we can leave on two separate ships" I turned towards him with a satisfied expression.

"Sweetheart. I thought we agreed not to play the kidnapping card" he whispered with an ironic smile on his lips as he took a few steps closer. I ignored the affectionate name he called me, not letting him get into my head and distract me with less important things.

"And indeed, we'll take two separate paths. They'll be too worried about chasing you, and in the meantime, I'll cut off all communication. We'll both have time to disappear"

He looked at me irritably before walking away, throwing the lightsaber casually on the bed as he started taking off his shirt. "This plan sucks" he hissed through his teeth as he continued to undress, calling his usual tunic abandoned in a corner with the Force and starting to get dressed.

"Do you have a better idea? I don't think so. And anyway, for all we know, they could come in four or twenty" I snapped irritably, raising my voice. "Do you realize how many things could go to kriff?" he ran his hands through his hair, frustrated, and I sighed in response, irritated. "I know! We'll improvise, as we always do, but it's better than nothing... Where's Sam?" I asked suddenly, looking around.

"I deactivated him, he kept bugging me because you weren't here and was blaming me" I rubbed my eyes once again before turning towards him and pointing my finger at him. "Reactivate my droid, get help, and keep your eyes open. If everything goes well, we'll drop off their radar for a while, and maybe we can shake them off since you decided to get caught" I snapped irritably.

"Sorry, but can't we just ambush them?" he replied, frustrated.

I swallowed bitterly before answering more calmly, "I can't. Not now. We need to get rid of them calmly" I saw him make another grimace, ready to protest, but I interrupted him again.

"Shut up. You created this problem. That's why I'm the master between the two of us. Don't forget that. You have orders. Execute them." My tone was hard. Disappointed. I sounded convincing. Maybe I was venting a different kind of irritation at the moment, but he couldn't imagine that. Fortunately, I struggled to read him just as he struggled with me.

Ours was more of a dance, armed with sharp claws and lightsabers, ready to attack each other for sport or wound each other out of personal pride. I could suffer as much as I wanted for his actions, be afraid of him, but I had no doubt that deep down, Qimir had the same fear of me.

It was a race to see who would break first.

That's why I couldn't allow him to see my weakness.

"Don't get yourself killed."

And with that, I looked at him one last time before severing the bond. Darkness returned, and when I opened my eyes again, I was still in my bedroom, hugging the pillow, as that forest scent faded from my senses.

[mxtantrights]

Bounded by shadow and blood (2)

azriel x magic!fem!reader

You set your bags down on the palace steps. It’s weird. Something is definitely wrong. Its not like you were expecting a warm greeting home but you were expecting a little something. 

The towns people were normal. They all greeted you like everything was fine, and that’s probably because everything for them is fine. Projected security and all. 

You handed out the treats to the children and talked with some of them. Specially your favorite of them all, Semaj. He had missed you while you were gone, and you had missed him all the same.

“Hello?” You call out.

If everything were normal, a palace person would have greeted you already. Someone might have actually greeted you in town before you made it up the steps. 

You push open the door and find it to be empty inside. Empty and quiet. Which is unusual for a place that holds at least fifty people inside at all times. 

You grab your bags and head inside. 

First you go to your room to drop off your bags. It’s quiet the whole way there too. Two long hallways then a right turn later. You haven’t seen or heard anyone.

When you drop your bags off you leave you room immediately. Closing the door behind you, you wander the halls. Checking in each room and finding no one. It was almost as if no one had ever lived here.

There is one room that should be busy. You make quick work to get from the east to the west side of the palace.

The council room. 

When you reach the double doors you halt. That bad feeling you had intensifies. You pull on both doorknobs with both of your hands and yank the doors open.

At the sound screech you don’t flinch. But at the table filled with council members you do. They all look at you, bewildered, shocked, confused.

“Nice of you to show your face.” Cyril says.

Cyril is the oldest member on the council. He practically raised you and your brother. You parents were too busy ruling over the people to actually raise their children. 

Cyril was the man who should have ruled. Your father’s oldest friend with a penchant for people and solutions. He never had kids of his own, always claimed that you and your brother were enough to last a lifetime. 

You smile at him, “You’ve grown older since I last been home.”

“Watch your mouth, I have embarrassing stories of you.” He answers. 

“While it’s good to see you two catch up, we have urgent matters to discuss.” Another council member says.

Cyril pushes out an empty chair. For you, you think. You close the doors behind you and walk over to it. You take a seat and set your hands on the table like you were trained.

“Welcome back to Sangri, princess.” Another member greets you.

You smile, “it’s good to be back, but I’m only visitng.”

“I fear that the days of you coming and going will soon be over princess.” Cyril says.

You look at him, confused. “What do you mean? Where’s my brother?”

“We don’t know. We haven’t seen him since he left on a expedition a month ago.” 

“A month?!” You shout.

You try to compose yourself. A whole month has gone without anyone seeing your brother and you’re only hearing about it now? You can understand that he was on an expedition but you should have been told of it beforehand. Now he’s gone and— 

“Princess, we fear the worst.” Cyril speaks. 

The worst that could happen to your brother would be death. But even that would be hard to do because he’s not built for it. You’re not fae, you’re blood benders. It would require a lot of knowledge and power to kill a blood bender. If even a drop  of blood remains in their body, they can be resurrected. 

“Have you searched for him? Have you sent out an inquiry to his last location?” You ask.

“All have been done, no word.” A council member says from your right. 

You sigh, “okay so then what does this mean? Do we disintegrate the monarchy? Is there a cousin or a spawn I don’t know about?”

“No, princess. There’s no one else.” Cyril says.

“But you.” Another voice adds.

You look around the room in shock. No. You weren’t made for this. You were specifically not made for this role. All your life you’ve ran from it. You let your brother have it because he’s oldest and he knows best. He doesn’t mind the boring and stiff lifestyle. 

“I’m not going to take the throne.” You speak plainly. 

“Not right now. Within the charter the council has three months to rule on it’s own before appointing a successor.” Cyril explains.

You begin to shake your head, “Cyril, I am not taking the throne ever.”

“You must.” A voice says.

“No, you haven’t proven my brother dead. And if I were to take the throne and he were still alive we’d all be in breach of the charter.” You argue.

They had thought that you didn’t read the charter. You hated it, absolutely loathed it. But Cyril always made sure you knew exactly what your role could be.

“We think within that time we will have evidence that your brother is dead.” Another voice says.

“Well I don’t. And I’ll go and find him myself if it means I don’t take the throne.” You respond.

“You are free to do so, princess. But you must return if we find something or the three months have passed.”

You get out of your chair, the wood screeching against the marble floor. You don’t say a word to anyone as you walk out of the room. 

You should have never returned home.

-

Nesta isn’t interested in the conversation happening around her. Not for nothing, she wanted to be. She just couldn’t get you out of her mind. No she didn’t know you, but she felt like something about you was off when you first met. 

She couldn’t see your ears.

“There aren’t any humans in Prythian, right?” She asks out loud.

The conversation being had stops. All eyes on the table are on her. It’s not like she isn’t used to it.

“Of course not, you know that.” Mor answers. 

“She’s talking about the women we saw at dawn.” Cassian explains.

“I just don’t get it. She didn’t smell like fae either.” Nesta goes on.

“Maybe she’s Illyrian.” Feyre tries.

“No, I know what they smell like. We all do.” Nesta counters.

“Why does it matter to you so much girl?” Amren asks.

Nesta looks at her. She’s right, it shouldn’t matter to her. There are more important things to care about right now. Like the battles that lies ahead, an unknown enemy. She just can’t shake the feeling that this woman is a part of it somehow.

“It doesn’t.” Nesta lies.

Amren hums her response and goes back to drinking her wine. Everyone at the table starts dispersing and talking amongst themselves again. Nesta doesn’t, she can’t. 

She leaves the dinner table a few moments after that, no one stops her. When she leaves the room she runs into Azriel, on his way in from a mission no doubt. She passes by him and thinks to self that maybe she could ask for his help. 

She turns around before she can think against it. 

“Azriel?” 

He turns around without a word. He looks tired, and if Nesta weren’t so suspicious and inquisitive she would let it go. But she isn’t, she can’t.

“There’s some information I’m looking for…”

[ackerfics]

my love is mine all mine ch 2 | toji fushiguro x female reader

part one of to the girls who are failed by the narrative series.

series summary:

'the glorified womb', 'the heir bearer', 'the blessed flower of the jujutsu society' — they are just some of the titles given to the women of your mother's clan, and all of them eventually fell to you, the prodigal firstborn who has the misfortune of birthing someone who will be stronger than their predecessors. with the fate of someone's clan on your shoulders, there are only a handful of things told to you while growing up; be as demure as you can be, never open your mouth and squash your thoughts, sit with a posture befitting that of a lady wearing an invisible yet heavy diadem. but the one that rings the most goes like this: your only purpose in this world is to be a silent wife to a man who will give you the opportunity to carry the next generation of powerful sorcerers. you remember all of these as you walk toward zen'in ogi in your uchikake, the constricting material around your waist akin to the gripping hold of your cursed technique.

and in fate's funny little ways of fabricating legacies and stories, you forget them when you are spirited away by the man who always welcomes the coming of the seasons with you without fail.

chapter title: in our circle of green

warnings: objectifying women, misogynistic beliefs, pregnancy, miscarriage, stillbirth, death

Toji already figured that the Zen’in clan was cruel the moment he could understand words.

Some say that the birth of his older brother marked the downfall of a clan so revered they were supposed to be placed on a pedestal alongside two families in the jujutsu society. Born with a cursed energy that didn’t make the shadows dance, Jinichi is the first ink blot on a pristine scroll of names. Their father, ever the people pleaser and the self-proclaimed heir of the clan, tried to appeal to the elders and the head who are all a bunch of stoic people whom Toji didn’t have the mood to list because they are so withered and grey they are almost unforgettable. Zen’in Ichiro begged them to give him another chance to prove that the Zen’in clan still had the potential to carry on the technique that spoke of them being shadow puppeteers.

And then came him.

While his brother earned cursed energy, Toji did not.

His life ended the moment it started.

He is used as an excuse for blows and barbed words. The scars littering his back and upper arms are just some of the few inflicted on him, the others healing with time. When they saw that his resolve wouldn’t easily break, all of the bruises and wounds went to his parents.

The family finally drove his father insane; and with his father spiralling, the suffering of his mother begins.

Then, came the blaming.

His mother, a woman so kind that she even smiles after receiving the end of his father’s verbal daggers, became a target for the elders. With the veins on her hand visible to the naked eye from how pale she is and the purple bags under her eyes from lack of rest, the wife of the assumed clan heir loved her second son despite being the one thing the Zen’in loathed. Dry hands cupped his chubby cheeks often, her chapped lips murmuring sweet nothings to his ears. She told him she prayed to the gods to make him just the way she was—normal and untainted by the world they were living in. They were words that would remain meaningless to him for they rang with false promises. He never understood her spending more time with him when he was younger. Until he saw her getting dragged by the hair after refusing to lay with him for another child that would become another failure. For the months that his mother endured, just this one rippling event made her take her last breath.

The reason for the death of his mother was him—the boon of the Zen’in clan.

All unlucky things revolved around him.

At least that’s what he was told when they pushed him into a room full of cursed spirits to test his strength.

There is a certain air of unparalleled dignity when covered by the rooftops of the Joushou clan compound, the potent air of purity ringing through the pillars holding it together. Compared to the Zen’in clan residence, those who bear the Joushou family name all lived in a small village in Kyoto, a space barricaded by so many barriers that Toji felt like it’s too much for a clan that isn’t within the triad of the Jujutsu society.

They are going to attend a funeral, his grandfather said. There was no mistaking that when the old man announced that everyone should be on their best behaviour, he was directing the words to both sons of his failed firstborn, specifically him, the boy they threw into a room of cursed spirits and the one they left scars on. When the creaking old man finally retreated to his chambers after the announcement was made, Toji could finally roll his eyes at the absurdity of the situation, the action never unnoticed by his older brother, judging by the low snicker Jinichi made.

Now, they are hiking toward the main house, a parade of black under the canopy of green and slivers of light. The chosen members of the Zen’in clan who were honoured (he wants to barf because it was exactly what the ancient old man said) to attend this funeral walked for about an hour; the compound of this family of purity or whatever they are called is that expansive. Toji swallows the complaint rising in his throat the more he feels his feet straining against the straps of his geta, choosing to keep quiet instead. He doesn’t begin to comprehend the complex layout of this clan compound. Why can’t it be a single house like theirs? With all the talk his uncles make about their family, one would think that the Zen’in clan is the epitome of perfection in the jujutsu society. It’s both bewildering and funny that they don’t hold a candle to the opulence boasted by the Joushou clan.

“Hey,” an annoying voice buzzes in his ear like a fly.

Toji stops giving the gravel his attention and places it on his ugly brother. “What?”

“You notice it?” Jinichi asks.

He keeps on looking at the dimwitted boy with hooded eyes. “What?” he repeats. Toji is not a repeater of his words but when it comes to Jinichi, he tends to do it a lot. His older brother has this habit of never fully explaining the context behind his words, one of the many reasons why Toji’s patience sometimes runs so thin it’s almost like a piece of thread now. 

Jinichi rolls his eyes. “The barriers; it’s the twelfth now. ” A second of haughtiness passes in his eyes and he jeers at Toji with an air of superiority over him. “Oh, I forgot — you can’t sense anything.”

“Get to the point,” he grits out.

With a concealed smile, his older brother basks in his simmering irritation while gesturing around the towering woods with his chin. “Do you remember the stories that circulate about Father and Uncle Naobito? How they nearly went ballistic because of a woman so beautiful she managed to ensnare the Gojo heir as well?” Jinichi huffs a laugh, his eyes boring through the backs of their grandfather’s eldest sons.  Toji’s eyebrows meet on his forehead at all the stalling. He is about to walk ahead when Jinichi continues talking, “That woman has a daughter and she’s about the same age as us. The barriers around this compound are all for her.”

That piece of information is anything but relevant to Toji. All he knows about the clan they are attending a funeral for is that they are so revered because of their strength that they can walk through someone’s Domain Expansion unscathed. This is the first time he has heard a member of his family mention a woman in this kind of light, almost worshipping with no shred of degradation and discrimination. His brother was talking about this girl with a tone similar to that of his uncle when he found the perfect woman to ruin. Toji doesn’t hold back the sneer on his lips, the scar pulsing with a phantom pain that lays out the image of grotesque humanoid creatures crawling on blackened walls and ceilings. He looks away from his brother and fixes his eyes on the nearing building ahead of them. Too bad there are no pockets in his black kimono. He would have buried his hands hours before.

“What’s that supposed to mean, aniki ?”

Jinichi cracks a chilling smile. “That means she could be offered as a wife to me.”

Toji snaps his neck to give the older boy a look painted in incredulity.

“I am the clan heir’s heir; it is imperative that I have a wife as bewitching, alluring, and docile as a woman born from the bloodline of the Hanamo clan. She will bring a new age of Ten Shadow users to our family and the Zen’in name will be stronger than it was before. With twelve—oh, thirteen—barriers protecting her from the outside world,” Jinichi snickers under his breath, “she must be a treasure.”

“Like I care about her.”

“Of course, you don’t,” his older brother scoffs. “You will never deserve a girl with that kind of calibre—you and your title of the clan’s disappointment.”

A vein nearly pops in his forehead. There is enough of the badmouthing Toji gets from the adults in the clan, he doesn’t need any more of it from his older brother who is a kid himself. “Do not test me, aniki. ”

“What are you going to do about it—grovel?”

“I will tear you to shreds like I did to the room of curses they threw me in,” Toji blandly replies with wide eyes. He notices the slight flinch making Jinichi’s shoulders rise but that is not enough to brew satisfaction into his body, which is already catching up to the older boy even though he is two years Toji’s senior. “So, you can shove your fantasies of marrying a wife made for carrying children right up your hairy ass before I do it for you.”

It takes Jinichi a couple of moments to answer, cold sweat dripping over his brow. “You don’t scare me, you little shit. You are just a fucking bug to me—amounting to nothing. Know your place as the outcast before spewing bullshit like that.”

Toji’s voice is kept within his throat, only choosing to look at Jinichi for as long as it takes until his older brother has enough. Jinichi walks past him, remembering to knock his shoulder against Toji’s. The impact feels like a breeze that only brushes on a piece of fabric. Even the force his older brother has to exert will never make him falter, which is why he is the perfect piece to twist in the puzzle that is their clan. How Fate laughs at him, he thinks; the strength given to him by the deities walking on clouds is the reason why he carries blemishes on his skin like battle armour.

He nearly lets out a scoff. All this is because of a faceless girl so fragile that she should be protected by how many barriers the sorcerers of the Joushou clan can produce.

Yet this faceless girl is anything but ordinary, living up to the hearsays passing around the halls of their residence.

She is small and the kimono covering her figure is embroidered with outlines of red flowers. It is the first time Toji has seen something so bright even with her hair covering the side of her face—practically blinding that he looks at the flower arrangements around the small coffin over her shoulder instead of her miserable face. 

For someone who should be mourning for their little sibling, the girl never gives a glance at the displayed body in the middle of the room. Instead, she is tugging on the sleeves of her mother’s kimono, calling for her attention, which in turn attracts all those who are present. Toji can hear the murmurs of the adults around him — curious, unwarranted things that should not be said regarding children. There are whispers of her blooming beauty (how she will grow up to become the next bride touched by the fingers of Izanami) and the suffocating yet pellucid air of her cursed technique (calling to the flowers near him); they are all comments made by men who are older than her father.

Then, she turns around to fix her eyes on him and suddenly, Toji finds himself at a standstill—eyes blank and breathing stagnant as the flowers in her irises bloom with curiosity. She blinks and Toji can see that they touch the skin underneath her eyes. 

It is only when she faces her father that Toji can breathe again.

He shakily lets out the sigh lodged in his throat.

A memory surfaces.

In the Zen’in residence on a certain day, there are dolls lined up in the main receiving area, all dressed in elaborate kimonos with the sound of their accessories twinkling from a single gust of wind from the open window. Toji remembers transfixing his attention on these dolls when he was four years old, his curiosity pulsing through his undeveloped mind to touch one of them. His fingers reach out and the tip of his toes carry him closer to the girl wearing a headdress that can tangle with a single nudge. The doll is almost calling to him—the crinkling eyes closing because of the smile on her face, the folds on her attire devoid of creases, and the platforms possessing patterns that match her partner. But Toji also remembers feeling a hand crack against his skin, pushing him from peeking through the edge of the display area and to the ground below him. He remembers the pain that erupted after his head roughly bumped on the hardwood floor. There was no time to whimper in pain because the hand gripped the tendrils of his hair in between their fingers. His eardrums nearly burst as he closed his eyes to accept whatever punishment the hand gave him.

The doll gives off the same feeling as the girl walking through the door. He is itching to reach out to make sure she is real but he knows once he does that, the hand will come back again.

“Man, she is perfect for me,” Jinichi muses beside him.

Toji never takes his eyes off the doorway where the main family of the Joushou clan disappears, answering, “Keep on dreaming.”

“You don’t think so?” Jinichi scoffs. “What? Are you planning on taking her? Don’t—you’ll only soil her holiness with your curse or the better lack of it rather. She will give birth to my heirs and the possible holder of the Ten Shadows cursed technique, mark my words.”

He makes no sign of using his voice. Toji flickers his eyes to the body of the little boy that will be burned later on in the ceremony. If the Hanamo clan can bring forth life with their wombs, why would the mother of that girl give birth to something dead? The doll-like girl then comes into mind—her fluttering eyelashes, the plushness on the apples of her cheeks, her eyes that seem to carry an entire flower field, and her air of only existing in dreams. Will she suffer through the weight of carrying death inside her? Will she assume that lifeless look her mother donned? 

“What will you do?”

“What?”

He keeps on talking to Jinichi, “What will you do if she becomes her mother?”

“You mean to test our bond as brothers?”

Stupid. “If it comes to a point that she is not who our world tells us she is—giving birth to dead babies. Will you still accept her? Be faithful and not take any mistress like our father did?”

“Father is a coward,” Jinichi answers. “The women who have the privilege of being offered to us are the cream of the crop as the elders have been saying. We are told that they are the perfect women to breed children into and I will do everything in my power to make sure they will bring life instead of death. The Joushou girl is not an exception.” Toji feels his skin crawl at Jinichi’s smile. “In fact, her womb is the best reason to try and try again, am I right? I bet her father will do that to her mother tonight. Have you seen the look on his face?”

All Toji can offer as a response is silence.

“It’s the look of someone with a goal in mind. Maybe the next time we visit the Joushou compound is for a festival, not a shitty funeral for a dead kid.”

It’s another funeral—this time, not for a dead kid, but for the esteemed Lady Joushou instead.

The previous one was not as suffocating as this one and Toji is not an idiot to detect the miasma of tension surrounding the entire compound. With the Lady gone, the clan is in chaos—if the rotting smell of flowers drifting in the air is any indication. He can hear the elders of both the Jujutsu society and this family urge the head to find potential women to replace the one they have lost. It’s not a surprise to him—older men telling leaders what to do with the future of their clan, having lived in the most grappling environment he knows in his life—but it repulses him that they are outwardly discussing it in the Lady’s funeral. 

The funeral rites have ended, the ashes are gathered, condolences are given, and Toji leaves it all behind to enter the withering gardens of the Joushou main residence. He may not have the capacity to feel cursed energy but he can tell that this decay is caused by the Lady’s death. With no one to educate him on the many clans in their society, Toji learned everything by himself. One particular scroll has been hidden away in the library of the Zen’in residence and they entail the history of the Heir Makers. It was only a year ago that he was curious enough to learn more about the doll’s familial lineage. Of course, the Joushou made a name for themselves with their impenetrable cursed technique but it is the Hanamo clan that made the doll’s birth possible. Just like their name, they have something to do with flowers and something about the manipulation of their souls—befriending them to follow their bidding.  All of these are overlooked by the fact that just like flowers, they represent the essence of life—fertile wombs and precious beauty above all. 

While he walks in this grey scenery, Toji is silent on his feet. Not a single sound emanates from his footsteps. The heavens are not that cruel—they still blessed him with an advantage against those who can sense cursed energy. There is no symphony of birdsong here, almost like they feel that their voices shouldn’t tarnish the melancholy dome around the compound. Toji blends in with the silence. His eyes roam around the dropping shrubs and the raining leaves, his hands nestling inside the sleeves of his black kimono.

A splash of green on the stiff grass catches his attention. He follows it. They form a line, stepping stones even, toward her.

The doll is crying in the middle of a pond of grass, her back turned from him. Her hair is pinned close to her head, her black funeral garb once again embroidered with red outlines of flowers that seem to bring colour to this eternal void. Even without facing him, he can tell she is crying from the way her tiny shoulders shake. Of course, she won’t notice him, nobody can, so Toji takes this time to watch her silently and let her heart cry for her mother. The sight in front of him calls all of his attention for her tears bring a solitary flower to sprout from the ground. It’s oddly beautiful, he finds himself thinking. He expects her to grow more flowers from her grief. 

What he doesn’t expect is her looking over her shoulder to zone in on him, those flower fields for eyes arresting him in place and rendering him motionless.

The pounding of his heart echoes through the chambers of his heart, alerting the tingles in his stomach to flutter their wings. It’s different from the paced heartbeat he experiences whenever someone pushes him into the mud in the Zen’in estate. This particular reaction from just her making eye contact with him pushes the heat to climb to his face, dusting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It’s the first time he feels embarrassed about being noticed. 

She is as pretty as her cursed technique.

“Who are you?” her voice carries through the dead garden.

Toji nearly jumps in place but he covers it with a cough from behind the sleeve of his kimono.

She cuts him off from answering. “You’re not supposed to be here.” Her eyes cut through the open shoji doors behind him. 

“And you’re supposed to be out there,” Toji nonchalantly remarks with a thumb pointing behind him.

The doll blinks, her eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings on her skin. She looks away from him and blue washes over her tiny figure. “I don’t want to.”

“And I don’t want to be there either, which is why I’m here.”

Annoyance flickers on her face as she juts her bottom lip in a pout. Toji blankly stares at the unwarranted gesture—cute. She really is like a doll; so fragile, dainty, and tiny that nobody has the right to touch her, including him. The distance between them will remain as is; something he will never lessen through weathering seasons. This girl’s existence is everything he is not and she is worth more than him, way more than his family can offer. She breathes life in her tears—who knows what she will bring with her touch. “The elders won’t like it if you’re here,” she finally fills in the silence. 

“I don’t care what the elders have to say. I stopped caring a long time ago.”

She thoughtfully brings her attention back to him. “I remember you.”

Toji can’t help but wear shock on his face.

“You’re the boy who looked friendly two years ago. You were at my,” she chokes up, “brother’s funeral two years ago.”

So he did leave a lasting impression on her. For whatever reason, Toji doesn’t know.

“I think you’re the only one who looked friendly, that’s why I remember you.”

Him—friendly? He is described as looking like a demon spawn by many. Not to mention that he inherited his family’s signature harsh look, narrow eyes, and face always set in a scowl without trying. People will say otherwise if they heard what came out of this princess’s mouth. 

“Hey, princess, I’m anything but friendly.”

“The flowers aren’t afraid of you, including this one,” she nods at the flower swaying in the wind, the only witness to their exchange and the first one to many to come. There’s no smile on her face but her tone suggests something that douses Toji in a foreign feeling. Nobody has given him this kind of attention before and it’s getting hard not to look away from her. “You’re not like the rest of your family.”

Toji scoffs. “Of course, I’m not—”

“I can tell you have more heart than them.”

He raises a disbelieving eyebrow.

“If other people from your family found me here, this conversation wouldn’t be the same as the one we’re having now. They will tell my father and he will scold me like he scolded Mother. Or worse, they’ll pick me as a bride.”

He remembers his older brother asking their father about his possible betrothal to the treasure of the Joushou clan but Jinichi was instantly shut down by a drunk remark, saying that he will never be good enough for something precious as the girl. Toji also remembers Jinichi letting out his frustrations and anger at him in the dead of the night when the servants were asleep and the night was cold, pushing him out of the residence and forcing him to lay on the garden’s pebbled path as if it’s his fault for ruining a potential alliance—Toji is bad luck as Jinichi stated.

After gaining sentience and understanding, Toji hates everything that his clan stands for. So, he should also be hating this girl. She is the pinnacle of jujutsu and every special case is something to be revered at. However, looking at her right now, how can someone suggest that they marry someone younger than the youngest member of the Zen’in clan?

“You’re too young to marry anyway,” Toji replies while scratching his head. “What good would marrying a kid give to the old geezers I know?” He then sighs, “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be playing with dolls at this age? Why are you already talking about marriage?”

She looks away. “Because my mother is dead.”

“Hah?” he exclaims. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Her eyes dim a little and Toji curses himself for not thinking before speaking. “Father needs good alliances for ruining the one he has with my mother’s family. I’ve heard him talk.”

“And he’s what? Selling you to my clan?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Well, that sucks.”

The doll nods.

Toji clicks his tongue. “If they keep on pestering you to be their wife, you might as well just run away.”

She tilts her head, making her look like an adorable stuffed toy hanging on stalls in festival games. “Mother told me that would be the worst thing to do. Father would be angry and I would be chased.”

Something becomes stuck at the back of his throat. How will those words influence you when your mother is dead, is the unsaid thought lingering in his mind. He chooses to let them bubble inside him. Instead, he says, “If I were you, I would have run away from the moment I heard my father arranging marriage proposals. It sounds like an escape that I would want from everything if I’m being honest. And now that I’m thinking about it, marrying into the Zen’in clan will mean that you will become either my aunt or my sister. I don’t know which of the two I prefer.”

“I don’t think I’d prefer any of that either.”

Toji watches as she fiddles with the petals of the carnation resting on her palm. Hesitation keeps making him twitch, from the tips of his fingers to the shuffling in his feet. The distance between them lessens as he follows the trail of green toward her. His hands are still hiding in his sleeves and he paints a picture of nonchalance on his face, one that doesn’t betray how his heart is racing at the thought of being in the same circle as her. The doll he was reaching for when he was young is finally within his reach. He plops on the spot next to her, far from her and the flower but not that much to warrant any awkward air around them.

“Toji.”

“Hmm?” The girl doesn’t even flinch in surprise at his proximity.

He fixes her a glance, almost grumbling, “That’s my name—Toji. Figured that if you want my help in running away, you should know it.”

She finally smiles, a tiny one but still noticeable within the monochromatic background they are surrounded by, and his hands become sweaty at the sight. The girl doesn’t even know the power she has while doing it. A piece of hair falls from her elaborate hairstyle, draping itself over her shoulder, with Toji’s hand itching to push it behind her ear. What is wrong with him? He feels his face heat up while looking away from her. Unwarranted thoughts circle the caverns of his head, all concerning the girl beside him. Regretting his decision to sit with her in the only vibrant area of the withered garden, Toji covers the bottom half of his face with one hand, finding the gentle swaying of the breeze among the grey leaves entertaining.

“[Name].”

“Huh?”

“Nice to meet you, Toji-san,” she once again offers a small smile that reaches her eyes. “I’m [Name]. Thank you for talking to me.”

He clicks his tongue. “It’s nothing—just thought that you could use some company because everyone seems to be fawning over your father.”

She doesn’t reply, simply looking down at her lap like she is taught. 

No words are exchanged between the two of them. The silence is not palpable to push them into creating meaningless chatter.

It’s just the two of them—a boy who has nothing to his name except for being part of a family he wants to escape from and a girl who starts feeling the strings dictating her every move.

As the funeral rites go on behind them and as the afternoon makes way for the sun to peek through the cloud formations, the colour spreads from where they are sitting, and in the space between them, Toji notices a small bush of hydrangeas* touching the tips of his wooden slippers.

taglist (send an ask or a reply if you want to be added !! )

@booblikerlhc @sugutoad @sakuralikestars @fandomfloozy @the2ndl @silent-sondering @idktbhloley @ruizrei @m0nsterzl0ve

[spidernuggets]

Jason Todd x Reader

"Thought I was gonna lose you"

"Oh, baby, you can't get rid of me that easily"

You slammed into the hospital room where the nurse told you your boyfriend was at. You received a call from Dick almost 15 minutes ago while you were reading Jason's annotated Pride and Prejudice book, smiling at his little comments at the side. Once you heard "Jason" and "Hospital" in the same sentence, you quickly bookmarked the novel and ran out the door.

The four Titans accompanying Jason; Dick, Gar, Kori and Rachel, turn to you, but your main focus was on Jason. His eyes closed, bandages all over his torso, IV needles stuck all over and an oxygen mask over his face. Your heart beated faster, pushing the Titans out of the way to get a closer look of your lover, gently caressing his face.

"We were told he's in a coma," Dick immediately says. "There was a messy encounter with Deathstroke and-"

"And Jason jumps head in first like always," Kori interrupts, arms crossed, annoyed expression on her face, staring down at the boy.

"We don't know when he'll wake up," Gar says quietly.

You don't reply. All you can do is lean your forhead against his, praying that he'll wake.

You're not part of the Titans, but you've known Jason for years and he'd entrusted you with his identity, and soon after, neither of you could hide your feelings towards one another for long.

"He's going to wake up. He'll wake up soon," was all you could say, just barely above a whisper.

"C'mon," Dick quietly says, motioning for the Titans to leave the two of you alone. When the three members leave, Dick places his hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"He was knocked out but.. he was calling your name when he got out of the ER," Dick tells you. "He's strong. He'll wake up."

When Dick leaves, you pull a chair up beside the bed, sitting down and laying your head beside Jason's torso, holding his hand.

And that's how it remained for the next few weeks. Jason didn't show any signs of movement but you still stayed in that chair, only getting up to use the bathroom. Even with Dick's authoritative commands, telling you to go home and that he'll watch over Jason, you didn't move an inch.

Gar was the only other person to visit Jason, and occasionally dropping of some food for you, while the others focus on missions.

"He never stops talking about you, y'know," Gar suddenly says, placing a paper bag full of greasy food on the small table beside you. "Training, fighting, debriefing, he's always bringing you up. 'Do you think Y/n would be impressed with this move?', 'I have to go, I want to hang out with Y/n', 'Don't tell Y/n I got stabbed'. I don't remember the last time he talked about anything other than you," Gar tells you, repeating all the things Jason had told him about you.

Your eyebrows scrunched together and lifted your head up to look at Gar as he handed you a burger. "He got stabbed? When??" You asked, accepting the burger.

Gar lightly laughed at the fact that you know Jason can take a punch or a stab, but would still be concerned even if Jason stubbed his toe.

"It was a month ago. He's more than fine now- well. The wound, I mean," He corrects, knowing Jason's current situation is definitely not more than fine.

You sighed, looking back at your boyfriend. "Thanks, Gar," You say, a smile tugging at your lips as your grip tightened on Jason's hand.

"For...," Gar's head tilted, confused what you were thanking him for while quickly stealing one of your fries.

You shrugged one of your shoulders. "For being his friend. He's told me some of the stuff he's gone through. How some of the other guys treat him. Without a shadow of a doubt he's wreckless and impulsive. But he's smart. And strong and brave. So.. thanks.. I guess. For believing that he is all of those things."

Gar sighed and gave you a lopsided hug. "Of course. He's my teammate amd my friend."

You leaned into Gar's hold, hand on his arm, giving it an accepting and gentle squeeze.

~

You remained by Jason's side a month and two weeks later, only leaving the room to go back to your house, asking Gar to look after Jason while grabbing a pair of extra clothes, plus a hoodie and leather jacket you stole from Jason.

You fell asleep, hugging Jason's arm, not noticing how his other arm went over his body and rested on your head, stroking your hair.

"Wakey wakey, gorgeous," You heard a raspy, groggy voice call out to you. You blinked twice before processing that someone was calling out to you. Your eyes widen as you jolt up from you seat and saw Jason smiling up at you.

"Don't tell me you've been sleeping in that position for long, babe, that could not be comfortable," Jason tried to joke. You didn't even realised what he said. You were still processing that he's awake.

A few seconds of realisation later, you start breaking down, tears cascading down for face and sobs choking out your throat.

"Oh, mama, c'mere," He whispers, weakly holding his arms out. You lunge forward, but careful not to lean over his bandages. You sobbed in his bare shoulder as he shushed you, stroking your hair.

"You scared me," you whimpered.

"I know, baby. 'm sorry, shh it's okay, I'm okay." he assures, pressing a light kiss to the crown of your head.

"I missed you," you mumbled, your finger tracing shapes along his skin.

"Missed you too, doll," he responded. "I heard you, y'know. Rereading Pride and Prejudice, saying how stupid my comments were. Asking me to wake up. Talking to Gar 'n all," he quietly explains.

"Thought I was gonna lose you"

"Oh, baby, you can't get rid of me that easily," he tried joking once more, this time earning a skicker from you as you left a soft, lingering kiss on his collerbone.

Jason shifted to one side of his bed, leaving a wider space beside him. He patted the empty space next to him, telling you to lie with him.

"Jay, I can’t, your bandages-"

"They'll be fine, I promise," he interrupts you. "Just come here with me. I'll heal faster if I'm holding you," he says with a cheeky smile dancing across his face.

You roll your eyes, but as much as you wanted him to have space to heal properly, the selfish part of you took over and slid in beside him, craving his touch that had you starved for too long.

You lay your head on his arm and you gently wrap your arm over his waist as Jason's arm cradles your head, the other draping over your body, pulling you closer, leaning in and connecting his lips with yours. It was a deep and hungry kiss that you both missed as you tiredly nuzzle your fave against his arm.

"Get some sleep, beautiful," Jason says. "You need some proper sleep," he kisses your forhead.

You hummed in response, quickly falling into a quick, comforting slumber, Jason closing his eyes shortly after.

Bonus:

After what felt like eternity, you finally slept, better yet, in the arms of the love of your life, knowing he's okay.

After finally getting a break from missions, the Titans made their way unto the hospital to see how Jason's doing.

"If Jason hadn't start the mission on his own, he wouldn't even be in this state," Rachel ranted to Dick, the two of them carrying plastic bags full of take away.

"Definitely taking a toll on Y/n," Kori says. "That kid's seen better days"

The group stopped in their tracks, looking through the window of Jason's room, seeing the couple in each other's embrace.

"Jason's awake!" Gar exclaims.

Dick smiled to himself and started shooing the Titans back.

"Alright, Jason's okay, we'll come back later when he and Y/n wake up". He said, smiling once more at the sight of the two.

♡Might be an ass fic seeing as I tried not to fall asleep. So.... definitely spelling/grammar errors somewhere.. Anyways, Hope you enjoyed reading! ♡

[oneshotnewbie]

Hi, i was wondering if you would write one about Amelia Shepherd as your foster mom or motherly sister - you have anorexia and she is admitting you to the psych ward against your will. meredith is there to support her and you.

Authors note: I'm sorry there wasn't a new story yesterday, but I had another recurring episode of a migraine and it really weighed me down.

ᕚ---ᕘ

In the dark corridor of the psychiatric hospital, the footsteps of the neurosurgeon and the general surgeon echoed as the two hesitantly walked towards the closed door of your temporary stay, Meredith's arm reassuringly placed on the brunette's shoulder. The dim beam of light from the bulb above the door was the only glow at the end of the dark hallway, reflected off the peeling walls. Amelia's heart was pounding in her chest as she gripped the cold metal handle of the door that separated you from her.

She slowly opened the door and entered the room, which was filled with a diffuse light from the bedside lamp. "Hey, sweetheart. I have brought you a visitor," she spoke to you calmly, scrunching her nose as the smell of disinfectant and suppressed suffering crawled into her sinuses. In the corner of the room you sat, curled up on your bed with your legs pulled up to your chest. "Go away, I do not want to see you," you spoke, your gaze was empty, your eyes seemed tired and expressionless as a faint shadow of past joy of life crossed your face.

Amelia hesitated for a moment before approaching the bed. Her hand shook as she gently took your hand. She felt the cold of your skin and the pressure of your fingers weakly recoil and move away from her, sliding further into the corner. Tears welled up in her eyes as she carefully backed away even though she just wanted to hold on to your hand and cling to it so as not to fall into the abyss herself. "Please, y/n.. I love you and missed you," she began to speak quietly, Amelia's words full of pain and desperation. "and you know that bringing you here was the only right decision,"

You were trapped in your world, your sister´s words seeming opaque and incomprehensible as she spoke of the constant fear that tormented her when you stopped eating in your dark hours and were no longer the person she once knew. "You dragged me here and left me with strangers who were supposed to help me. When all I really needed was MY SISTER!" Another grab for your knee vanished into thin air as you evaded away from her touch and her hand instead reached back towards Meredith, who had not said a word yet but was holding a bag that the brunette had brought for you.

With tears in her eyes and shaking hands, she pulled out some personal items and began decorating your new room for the next few months to calm herself down. Amelia had no idea what to say, she felt incredibly guilty. She carefully placed these items on the nightstand next to the bed, as if she wanted to leave a piece of her lost sister behind. Photos of happy times, some books you recently bought and a diary where you once wrote down your dreams and hopes. "Amelia, is it okay if you leave us alone for a moment?" Meredith's bright voice broke through the cramped silence that was almost unbearable and the brunette nodded groggily but thankfully before slowly turning away, her eyes full of pain and helplessness.

With one last, loving look at you, she left the room and closed the door behind her. The click of the door lock echoed through the empty hallway, and behind it she burst into tears as she leaned against the cold wall and slid painfully down. In that moment she knew she had made the right decision, even though it broke her heart that you turned her away. Amelia had placed you in the care of professionals in the hope that you would find help there, but the pain and sadness of seeing you in this fragile and self-destructive state would stay with her forever.

But she also knew that you would both get through this and that you would eventually thank her for saving your life. And as she pulled herself together and walked down the hallway of the hospital into the parking lot, she could not stop wondering what was currently going on in that room with Meredith and you. Meanwhile, Meredith retreated to your room with you, the atmosphere charged and tense as you nervously folded your hands over your thighs. She sat down next to you and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "I know this is all very new and very difficult for you. You are probably feeling very hurt, angry and alone, but I want you to understand that your sister never intended to harm you," she began to speak slowly, her hand moving to your face to brush a stray strand of hair from your pale face and tuck it behind your ear. "She loves you more than words can express and she did everything she could to help you."

You hesitantly let her touch you, hurt that she also agreed to your Amelia´s decision and helped her register and accommodate you here. "But then why did she put me in this psychiatric hospital? Why she did not try to help me if she loves me so much?"

"Sometimes, my love, life is not as easy as we wish it to be. Amelia was desperate. She saw how much you suffered, how much you had changed and how you were destroying yourself in front of her eyes. She just knew no more how she could help you. Your sister tried everything, but it felt like nothing was helping and she did not want you to continue to be trapped in this darkness. That seemed to her the only way out to make sure that you Get the support and care you need."

After her speech, you burst into utter tears. Meredith took off her shoes and crawled on all fours to you. She quickly pulled you closer to her, pushing your head into her lap where you clung to her thighs. "But I feel so alone here. I am scared and I miss Amelia and you so much." She stroked your hair comfortingly, gently wiping your cheeks with her thumb every now and then to catch your tears. Her other hand searched for yours, fingers intertwining with yours. "Remember that you are not alone here. The people here will help you and I will always be there for you. I am just a call or a text away and if you want, I can come here with your sister every day after work and spend time with you so that you do not feel alone for at least a few hours.“

"I do not want to blame her but it hurts so much to be here," you admitted quietly, turning your head so that you could look into her eyes from below. A small smile crept onto her lips and she nudged your nose before starting to speak again. "It is okay to have these feelings, to be angry and sad. But please also understand that she acted out of love, even if it does not feel like it in that moment. She did not want you to suffer.“

You lowered your head back to her thighs as you thought about Meredith's words. A spark of understanding glowed in your eyes, and despite the pain, you felt a tiny bit of relief. It was a first step on the road to healing that gave the blonde hope.

[dabiscarpet]

Smell you, scent you

fox! Natsuya x f! reader 🦊

A collab for into the omegaverse by the beautiful @goxjo (divider cr. to my lovely aki too)

Warnings: tw: sexual themes, blood, violence, human hybrids, p in v, unprotected, creampie, a lil bit of mean Natsuya (but not a lot), crying reader

word count: 3.1k

⚠️ mdni!!! ⚠️

You can feel it, breathing almost on the back of your neck. You keep walking nonetheless, head up and tall, headphones in, but music lowered to the min, one hand in your pocket holding your phone, the other gripping hard the strap of the pretty pink purse your boyfriend gifted you month.

One block... Two blocks... Three blocks... Six.... Eight... Ten...a left and then another left, and another one... Still right behind you, hiding in the shadows, sun setting already and darkness becoming more predominant.

You try and keep your breathing steady. 1...2....3... Exhale. And again. You already lost track of the time. Where were you even going in the first place? Oh right, your boyfriend's house.

You were going to surprise him after a whole week of being completely absorbed by uni finals. He had reluctantly agreed to leaving you alone. You two loved each other so much, you were obsessed even with spending time together, so you had to take the very painful decision to ask him some time alone while you finished your semester. Now everything was over, and you couldn't think of anything else you but him once again.... Except for this moment, wondering if you'll even see him again at this point.

Gulping hard, some sort of sharpness was pressing around your neck, and a hairy hand was dragging you with extreme force into the alleyway. Before realizing it, you were pinned against the wall, bag long forgotten in the harsh pavement, scratching it, just like the wolf-like creature in front of your was scratching behind your ear.

"don't scream and it won't hurt as much" he leaned in to breath your scent, deep. You felt absolute disgust creeping through your every pore, but you laid immobilized, unable to fully understand how you got yourself into this.

Evoking your best memories with your boyfriend, his deep, rich caramel eyes is all you could see when you closed your eyes, prepared for the worst....

....

But it never came.

You heard an immediate thud and opened your eyes widely, a flash of brown and the strongest scent of cinnamon and spice the first things you noticed, the smell soon turning bitter and stronger.

The wolf-like man was thrown to the other side of the alley, and your boyfriend's imposing figure adorned by his majestic tail, now in a fighting stance, over the man. It took very little effort for your boyfriend to knock the other guy out, but his anger wouldn't go down.

He breathed strongly, almost as if it was hard for him, pupils dilated and full of fury, ears on top of his head thrown back, and his knuckles full for blood, a bit had already splashed onto his face. This made you finally react and reach out for him, trying to call out his name.

"NATSU"

He stopped, ears perked up again, fist still in the air while he turned around to look you in the eyes. He quickly dropped the dude, left to his own fate in that cold cement floor, and jumped to hug you, wrapping you in his warm body, kissing endlessly the top of your head, wonderful tail shielding both of you from distancing. Then, in his arms, now safe, you finally break down in tears.

"Natsu... I don't know what was that... was so scared, terrified!!" You managed to let thru whimpers and cries, your body now shaking and Natsuya hugging you tighter.

"I'm so sorry my love, I was not faster" he sounded deeply regretful. "I hope that bastard didn't do anything to you, or I'll finish him right now-"

"No please stop, just please.... Stay with me" and you cling to his maroon shirt, tears staining down the front of it and wrinkling it between your fingers.

"I promise my love, I am really really sorry, this is all my fault" you didn't have the energy to fight him, to tell him he did nothing wrong, you just kept saying no, no, no constantly.

"I promise to never ever leave you alone. Absolutely not even one second" and he meant it.

"Come on, let's get you out of here. I'm sure this bastard must have some friends around" you just nodded and picked up your bag, hiding in your big boyfriend's shadow all the way back to his apartment.

All the way back to his apartment, Natsuya not only held your hand or your arm, his whole complexion was somehow around you. His arm around your shoulders, keeping you as close as possible, pretty ears standing up to identidy any sound, and his scent... oH GOD HIS SCENT

It wafted all around you too, like a invisible protective cloud, so powerfull it was almost making you dizzy, but his strong grip prevented you from fainting, weak legs being basically dragged by him. You felt it, still the bitterness overpowering the sweet in his usual smell. Natsu was angry, probably more than you had ever seen.

The image of him beating up the other guy flooding your mind again. You looked at his knuckles and stains of blood still remained there, and shyly peeked up to see fresh blood still on his face.

And that somehow turned you on. The twisted thought of violence, of him being so masculine, so strong, so overpowering that could easily break you with a hand, but instead he used that strenght to protect you... It was wicked, you know it, but a very small part in the back of your brain wished you had not stopped him so quick and just enjoy the sight a little bit more-

"What´s on your mind?" Wow you had not realized how many blocks away you were, how far you had gone to hide. Just now you see his apartment almost at the end of the street.

"...Noth-"

"Don´t lie to me"

"..." You took a deep breath, and as soon as you were in front of his door, you confessed. Natsu would always know if you lied anyway. "I kinda wish... to see you angry more..."

He swung the door open and pushed you inside with a little more force than necessary. In the dark, his expression was unreadable, but his tail wrapped around you and the still tight grip on your wrist giving the message.

"Well... as twisted as that sounds.... you can enjoy a little more" Natsu dragged you to the living room and only turned on the small lamp next to the couch. "I am angry right now, still furious... and partly because of you"

You were so shocked by his answer that you could not reply. Your mind started rushing, trying to figure out how and why would he want to take it out on you. Your sweet sweet Natsuya.

"Because you forced me to stay away so long, and I respected it because I love you-" He pulled you as close as possible, face coming down to your neck, breathing in fully "My scent has almost vanished from you completely. I do not like that at all"

You did not even have the time to feel relief, because his mouth attacked your neck with kisses and bites. Purse falling to the floor, you just opened up to him, using the hand that was still free from his grip to grab his soft hair, touch his soft years, and pull him closer. The intensity was as that of a feral animal, you could feel it, his primal instincts taking over quickly.

Soon, the victim was your mouth. His lips overpowered yours, just as you wanted, for Natsu to take complete control over you. You let his tongue to lick all inside you, your teeth to clash, for him to spit in your mouth, and literally bite your lips, the lower one until it started bleeding, and he licked it all.

Natsu was unusually rough, and you could be more excited, already dripping just from the thought. He pushed you against the couch, and started ripping off your clothes, examining every corner of your body to check that you were totally ok, while marking you all over, wherever his lips could reach. His smell of cinnamon and spice already imprinted all around the room, all over your clothes, your hair, your skin... but it was still not enough for him.

"I am gonna make sure to scent you so hard, from the inside out princess" He grabbed your face again as he said thosw words, kissing you deeply again. You reached out to swipe the blood from his face with your thumb, but he quickly pushed you down to your knees. "Lets start with your thoat and face beautiful" His smile was blinding, almost wicked looking.

You do not remember when he took off his pants, but now you were face to face with his clothed dick, underwear completely soaked.

"Don´t you dare tease me, I am warning you"

"Yes Natsu" You just innocently looked up as you ripped off the underwear, he was already standing tall and proud, dripping, red, needy.

You wasted no time to lick him up and down, savouring the unusual bitterness that stemmed from his mood. Licking up and down, he felt bigger than ever, not sure if it was because of how long it felt since you had touched him, or if it was truly like that. Long, thick, pretty just like everything about him is. His tail falling behinf him in relaxation as soon as you started sucking him, his expression softening as he let out a strangled sound.

While having him in your mouth, you needely grabbed onto one of his strong, big thighs, while the other tried to push up his shirt. He quickly understood, removing it in a swift motion and discarding it somewhere in the darkness. Natsu grabbed your hair in a ponytail after you started slurping and playing with your teeth aroun him, your hand now gripping hard and then soft at his base, playing with him.

"You are playing with fire, and you know it" He managed to let out, already sounding breathless. You just smiled, dripping spit and precum from the corners of your mouth, innocent eyes looking up again as you continued your vicious cycle, he was just so addicting- and something inside him unleashead at this.

The hold on your hair quickly became painful, and you lost control of your movements. He took the lead and started pushing in you mouth with more energy, making you gag quickly and slurp and drooleven more. His ears were thrown back and his brown tail stood up again, as he relentlessly pushed into your mouth. Natsuya was a man on a mission.

You just let it happen, the wicked thoughts completely taking over your brain, actually enjoying his more feral and violent side. You did not care he was hurting you scalp and irritating the back of your throat, you were just happy that his all was with you.

Harder, faster, deeper... If he was being this rough with your mouth, you could not wait until it was your pussy, dripping onto the floor right now. Natsu usually lasted long, but today it was obvious it was not going to be that way. His breathing was ragged, short, his movements impossible faster, close close.... You just did your best recieving everything he gave you, sucking in to make it even more addicting for him, already fallen into a trance of in, out, in, out, IN-

Hot, very hot, white cum painted the back of your throat, and more and more ropes kept coming out, mouth already overfilled, so he pulled out and continued in your face, splashes of milky white painted your features, and Natsuya thought he had never seen something more beautiful. You beamed at him, watching his pretty pointy ears twitching in the afterglow pleasure.

Natsuya made sure to empty himself, and kneeled down, face to face with you. He grabbed your neck and kissed you slowly, deeply once again, tasting himself in you, the thought of nastiness already turning him on again, standing hard and tall quickly. Your hand drifted down to stimulate him once again, and he bit your lip, making it bleed again.

"Gosh you're really trying to make it up to me, don't you?"

"... I'm sorry, this wouldn't have happened if I didn't ask you to stay away love..."

Natsuya's face softened, his worried nature coming back to him at this, but were enjoying his animalistic side too much to let it drop so quickly, so you squeezed down on him once again, making him grunt, darkness returning to his caramel eyes, now looking chocolate.

Natsuya stood up and dragged you up with him by the arms, inhuman force making you weak on the knees. He turned you around and you supported yourself on the back of the couch, hand digging the fabric. He wasted not a single second.

"You're right princess. This was all because of your disobedience" he played along, as he noticed how much turned on you were with his roughness.

Pussy dripping, clear liquid going down your legs like never before. Natsuya kneeled right behind to smell in deeply, which made you red in the face, but he just spread your legs more and gave a long lick, from front to back, dizzy in your natural scent.

"I can't wait, get ready" and he didn't even finish his words, as his hard member was already making it's way inside of you.

The strain was almost unbearable, Natsuya was too big, too much, he felt too hot and fat, but the juices flowing from your inside only made it easier for him to keep going in. A few tears quickly formed on your eyes and fell, but your not sure if because of the pain or the relief you were feeling at least.

He wasted no time in getting to move, each stroke making him go in a little bit more and more, soon pressing all the spots inside of your pussy, his tip abusing your cervix. He felt no remorse as the tears kept falling from your face, because the sounds leaving your mouth and the squelch of your pussy sucking him back in told him another story.

His pace was absolutely animalistic, his tail firm and tense from the concentration, just like his ears, grunts and growls leaving his throat as his natural scent boosted even more with his sweat. In, out, Natsu kept penetrating deeply, hard and fast, the couch already moving form it's position.

"aaaaaaah natsuuuuu" you looked back at him, drool falling from the corner of your mouth, and your face still covered in his cum. "i- i can't-"

"what- is- it- that- you- can't?" Each word punctuated by a hit to your cervix, and now his hand was hovering over your clit. He gave slight touches here and there, but he still wanted to see you cry some more.

"I -... I need it-" he slapped your clit, and your pussy clenched hard ".aaaaahh touch me pleaseeeee"

He decided to give to you, and your delicious pussy already had him drunk in the pleasure, he just wanted to come inside you again and again and again, and didn't care for anything else. The hand over your clit finally made full contact, and he started rubbing it slowly but pressing hard, and you didn't need much more to crumble.

With a loud "fuuuuuuckk" you came all around him, squelch getting even louder as juices overflowed your insides, you hole pressing more around him, suffocating his dick. His tail instinctively wrapped around your waist when he pulled your upper body to his, to kiss your neck and back as you were still enjoying the stimulation. His strokes never stopped, nor faltered in rhythm.

Your shaky hand reached back and up, soon finding his ears on top of his head. You rubbed on them as you knew he loved, he always melted in your touch with that, because you felt his intensity growing even more.

"I really hope you're not tired yet, because I'm not done with you until you're full of my cum, stuffed to the point it overflows, fucked out so bad you can't leave my side for days, and each day you ask me for more and more..." He kept whispering dirty things in your ear as he came closer once again "I'm gonna make sure my scent sticks to you, becomes one with you, making it clear to the whole world that you belong to me, princess"

The overestimation already feeling too good, but too much, you kept crying out in pleasure while tightening around him, you already felt another orgasm incoming "aaaaaaah natsuuuuu I'm closeeee but... Haaaaah .... You have .... Have to first" you were decided to give it to him before you came again

For Natsuya, you felt absolutely angelic, heaven on earth, as your soft insides welcomed him since the very beginning. The beautiful sound it made, the sweet juices covering his whole lower body at this point... You didn't know it, but it was equally important for him to smell of you, to have it impregnated on his skin.

His member felt like it was about to explode, his hips faltering and falling out of rhythm, but still at a speed no human could ever. He had you lifted from the waist, meeting his strokes midway. His eyes were closed, but he opened them once again to see his cum on your face had dripped down your chest and-

"SHIT-" Natsu stopped suddenly, blurred vision as he held you tight against his skin. His tail tensed completely around you two, and his ears because stiff, and he emptied all the pent up frustration in ropes of milky white cum, that soon we're dripping down your legs. At the feeling of complete fullness, you had also cummed again, swollled lip between your lips as you wrapped you arm back around his neck and he breathed hard.

More and more kept coming out, painting all the inside of your walls white, marking you, scenting you from the inside out.

You remained still for a few minutes, trying to recover your breath. Natsuya was kissing the back of your head and neck, never letting his dick free from your pussy. You tried turning your head sideways, and he immediately reached down to kiss you, this time softly.

"I love you Natsu, I'm so sorry this is really all my fault-"

"Stop" the command in his voice making you bite your tongue "I'm sorry for all the mean things I said... It's my fault after all... But I will keep my word, and I'll make sure my scent never leaves you, ever again"

"Really? And how can you do that?"

"By fucking it into you every day ;)"

[jhutchh19992]

"Whispers of a Midnight Reunion"

Plot: you and david are a couple. you have been, for a long time. but he has been away for a couple of months due to work. he comes home, and you prepared a little surprise for him.

tags: fluff, maybe a little smut (reader receiving, no explicit explanation) , home coming, pre-established relationship

The house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath my restless feet. I glanced at the clock again, its slow, steady ticking adding to the weight of the evening. He was supposed to be here any minute now, and with every passing second, the anticipation tightened in my chest.

I had spent all day preparing, trying to keep myself busy so I wouldn’t focus on how much I’d missed him. Months apart—longer than either of us had expected—had left a hollow ache inside me that only he could fill. David, my David, had been halfway across the world, wrapped up in the kind of work that kept me awake at night, worrying, hoping, waiting.

The living room was softly lit, candles casting warm, flickering shadows against the walls. A bottle of his favorite wine stood on the coffee table, two glasses beside it, untouched. The smell of dinner still lingered faintly in the air—something simple, but something I knew he’d appreciate after so long away. I had gone over everything in my mind a hundred times, wanting it to be perfect, wanting it to feel like home the moment he walked through that door.

And then I heard it—a car pulling into the driveway. My breath caught in my throat as I rushed to the window, peeking out just in time to see him stepping out of the car. Even from a distance, I could tell how tired he was. His shoulders were slightly hunched, the weight of months spent away etched into the lines of his face, but there was something else too—a kind of quiet relief that washed over him as he paused, looking up at the house.

Before I could stop myself, I flung the door open and stepped outside, the cool night air wrapping around me like a blanket. David looked up, and the moment our eyes met, everything else seemed to fade away. He dropped his bag to the ground and took a step forward, then another, and then suddenly he was in front of me, his arms pulling me into him in one swift, powerful motion.

“God, I missed you,” he whispered into my hair, his voice thick with emotion.

I melted into his embrace, burying my face into his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against mine. His hands slid up my back, pulling me tighter, as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

“I missed you too,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper.

We stood like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other, the world outside forgotten. He smelled like the wind, like the distant places he had been, but underneath it all was that familiar scent of him, the one I had clung to in the quiet moments of his absence. I pressed myself closer, feeling the hard planes of his body beneath his jacket, the warmth of him seeping into me, chasing away the cold that had lingered in his absence.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to look down at me, there was something in his eyes—something soft, something I hadn’t seen in a long time. He brought a hand to my face, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek.

“You’re here,” I whispered, my voice trembling slightly as I reached up to hold his hand against my skin. “You’re really here.”

“I’m here,” he murmured, leaning down to press his lips softly against mine.

The kiss was gentle at first, like we were rediscovering each other after all this time. But then something shifted. His hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer as the kiss deepened, the longing we had both felt during his time away pouring out in that single moment. I felt his breath hitch as I opened my mouth to him, our tongues brushing softly, the taste of him familiar and intoxicating.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine, his breathing heavy. “I need you,” he whispered, his voice rough and low.

I nodded, unable to form words as I tugged him inside, the door shutting quietly behind us. The room was warm, inviting, but all I could focus on was him—how his hands moved so urgently, yet so tenderly, as he slid my jacket off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. He pressed soft kisses along my jawline, down the side of my neck, making me shiver as I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him even closer.

His hands roamed over my body, slow and reverent, like he was memorizing every inch of me all over again. “You’re perfect,” he whispered against my skin, his voice thick with awe.

I closed my eyes, letting myself get lost in the sensation of his touch. His hands slid under my shirt, tracing soft circles over my skin, before he gently tugged the fabric over my head, tossing it aside. He paused for a moment, his eyes raking over my body, as if he couldn’t quite believe I was here in front of him.

“David,” I whispered, my voice trembling slightly.

He looked up, meeting my eyes with such intensity it made my knees weak. “You’re beautiful,” he said softly, his hands moving to cup my face. He kissed me again, slower this time, savoring the moment as his hands slid down my body, lingering on every curve, every inch of skin.

I felt my breath catch in my throat as his hands slipped lower, undoing the button of my jeans with practiced ease. He knelt before me, pressing soft kisses to my stomach, my hips, as he slowly pulled the fabric down my legs. Every touch, every kiss, was filled with quiet worship, like he was grateful for every second he had with me.

When he looked up at me, still on his knees, his eyes were filled with a kind of reverence I hadn’t seen in months. “Let me take care of you,” he whispered, his hands running gently up my thighs.

David’s hands gripped my thighs with a gentleness that belied the strength behind them, his thumbs brushing my skin like he was tracing some secret pattern only he knew. The warmth of his breath against my hips sent shivers down my spine, making me feel more alive than I had in months.

He took his time, as if the world had slowed down just for us. His fingers hooked under the waistband of my underwear, and I felt the fabric slide down, leaving me bare before him. I bit my lip, heat rising in my cheeks, but there was no room for self-consciousness here—only the way his eyes darkened with need as he looked up at me, as if I were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"You have no idea how much I've thought about this," he murmured, his voice low and rough. His hands ran up my legs again, pulling me gently closer. "How much I've missed you."

I swallowed hard, my body responding to his words, to the heat in his gaze. My hands found their way to his hair, threading through the soft strands as he pressed a kiss to my inner thigh, then another, slow and deliberate. Every touch, every kiss, sent sparks through my body, igniting something deep within me that had been lying dormant all those lonely nights.

He was worshipping me, like he'd said he would, taking his time as if he wanted to savor every moment, every inch of me. His lips hovered just above where I ached for him most, teasing, until I couldn't help the soft gasp that escaped me, my fingers tightening in his hair.

"David..." His name left my lips in a whisper, a plea I couldn't hold back.

And then, finally, he gave me what I needed. His mouth was warm and soft against me, the first touch making me tremble. My knees threatened to give out, and his strong hands gripped my hips, holding me steady as he worked me with an expertise that left me breathless. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, each one sending waves of pleasure through me until I was gasping for air, lost in the sensation of him.

He knew my body so well, knew exactly how to draw every soft moan from my lips, how to make my legs shake with the need building inside me. I tugged at his hair, overwhelmed by the pleasure, my hips bucking involuntarily against his mouth. He groaned softly in response, his grip on my thighs tightening, pulling me even closer.

"Just like that," I whispered, my voice shaky, my body already teetering on the edge. "Please… don't stop."

He didn't. His tongue moved faster now, more insistent, as if he couldn’t wait to see me fall apart. My hands clutched at his hair, my breath coming in short, uneven gasps as the pleasure built, higher and higher, until I couldn’t hold it back anymore. With a final cry, my body shuddered, the release washing over me in waves as I trembled in his arms.

He held me through it, never once breaking his rhythm, until the last of the tremors had faded and I was left breathless, my legs barely able to support me. Only then did he pull back, his lips glistening, his eyes dark and full of something primal as he looked up at me, his hands still holding me steady.

I could barely form a coherent thought, much less words, but I managed to whisper, “Come here.”

He stood slowly, his hands sliding up my body as he rose, pulling me into another kiss. This one was deeper, more desperate, his need for me clear in the way his lips moved against mine, in the way his body pressed against me, hard and wanting. I could taste myself on his lips, a reminder of what he’d just done for me, and it only fueled the fire between us.

My hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel him, to have him as close as possible. He shrugged off the fabric, letting it fall to the floor before I ran my hands over his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his warm skin. I could feel his heart beating fast, matching the rhythm of my own as our bodies pressed together.

“God, I missed you,” I whispered against his lips, my hands sliding down to his waistband, undoing the buckle with trembling fingers.

David groaned softly, his hands finding their way to my waist, pulling me flush against him as I worked to free him from the last of his clothing. The moment I did, he pressed his hips against mine, and I could feel just how much he wanted me, the heat of him against my bare skin.

“I missed you more than you’ll ever know,” he breathed, his voice rough with need.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the time apart, not the worries or fears that had haunted me while he was away. All that mattered was this—him, here with me, holding me like he never wanted to let go.

He scooped me up into his arms, carrying me to the couch in one smooth motion before laying me down gently, his body pressing over mine. His lips found mine again, hungry and desperate, as if he couldn’t get enough of me.

David’s weight pressed down on me, solid and grounding, his body fitting perfectly against mine. The warmth of his skin seeped into me as his lips traveled from my mouth, down my neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Every kiss, every brush of his lips, sent sparks through my body, and I found myself arching into him, craving more of his touch.

His hands moved with a purpose now, sliding over my curves, exploring every inch of me as if he couldn’t get enough. It was like he was making up for lost time, for every moment we had spent apart, every night we had been separated by miles and oceans. And I felt it too—this overwhelming need to feel him close, to have him completely.

“You’re everything,” he whispered against my collarbone, his breath hot against my skin. “I don’t know how I survived without you.”

I couldn’t respond, not with words. Instead, I pulled him closer, my hands running over the hard muscles of his back, feeling every ridge and dip beneath my fingers. I wanted to memorize him all over again, to etch the feeling of his body into my mind, so that I could carry this moment with me forever.

David shifted slightly, his body settling between my legs, and I gasped at the sudden closeness, the heat that bloomed between us. His eyes met mine, dark and full of need, but there was something else there too—a tenderness that made my heart ache in the best possible way.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath, as if the words themselves carried all the weight of the world.

“I love you too,” I whispered back, my fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. “I always will.”

He kissed me again, slower this time, taking his time to savor every second. His hands roamed over my body, gentle but insistent, as if he was both worshipping and claiming me at the same time. The sensation of his touch, the way his body moved against mine, sent waves of pleasure through me, making it impossible to think of anything else but him.

His lips found my neck again, and I tilted my head back, giving him more access as his kisses grew more urgent, more desperate. I could feel the tension building between us, the heat rising as his hands gripped my hips, pulling me closer to him. Every touch, every brush of his skin against mine, was like a promise—a reminder that we were here, together, and nothing could pull us apart.

He pressed his forehead to mine, breathing heavily, his hands sliding up my sides before cupping my face. His eyes were dark and full of need, but there was a softness to them too, a quiet intensity that took my breath away.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice thick with emotion, his thumb brushing my cheek.

I nodded, my heart swelling at his gentleness. “I’m more than okay.”

With that, he kissed me again, this time deeper, more urgent, and I could feel the full weight of his desire in every movement. His body pressed more firmly against mine, the heat between us building until I could barely stand it. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer, needing him in a way that was almost overwhelming.

David groaned softly at the contact, his hands gripping my hips as he shifted slightly, pressing himself against me in a way that made my breath catch in my throat. The anticipation hung heavy in the air between us, and for a moment, we just stayed like that, tangled together, our breathing ragged and uneven.

And then, finally, he moved, his body pressing into mine with a slow, deliberate motion that left me gasping. The feeling of him filling me, the way our bodies fit together so perfectly, sent a wave of pleasure through me that left me trembling beneath him. He groaned softly, his forehead pressing against mine as he began to move, his hips rolling in a slow, steady rhythm that had me melting into him.

I couldn’t think, couldn’t form coherent thoughts—all I could focus on was him, the way he moved, the way his hands gripped my hips as if he never wanted to let go. His breath was hot against my skin, his lips brushing my neck as he whispered my name, over and over again, like a prayer.

“David…” I gasped, my nails digging into his back as the pleasure built inside me, growing with every movement, every touch. “Don’t stop… please…”

He didn’t. His pace quickened, his movements more urgent as the tension between us spiraled higher and higher. I could feel the pressure building inside me, threatening to spill over, and I clung to him, lost in the overwhelming sensation of being with him, of being his.

“Come with me,” he whispered, his voice rough and desperate as his hands tightened on my hips, his body moving faster, harder. “I need you…”

And with one final thrust, the tension snapped, and I cried out, my body shuddering beneath him as the pleasure crashed over me in waves. David followed soon after, his own release tearing through him as he buried his face in my neck, groaning softly against my skin as we rode the waves of pleasure together.

For a long moment, we just stayed like that, our bodies tangled together, our breathing heavy and uneven as the aftershocks of pleasure slowly faded. David’s weight was comforting, grounding, and I held him close, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against mine.

“I missed you so much,” I whispered, my fingers brushing through his hair as he pressed a soft kiss to my collarbone.

“I missed you too,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of love. “More than I can ever say.”

We stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the quiet of the night settling around us like a blanket. And in that moment, with David’s arms around me, his body warm and solid against mine, I knew that no matter how far apart we were, no matter how many miles or months separated us, we would always find our way back to each other.

Because he was my home. And I was his.

[heartfullofleeches]

RuthieLand

 Yandere Amusement Park Staff [F,M,G.N/NB] + G.N Reader

Summary: A proper intro into Ruthieland. A park full of fun and colorful characters. A few with their eyes on a certain someone.

Word Count: 2.8k

The letter in your small hands is drenched in sweat, and the sticky combination of spilled soda and melted ice cream. You were the last to get up from the picnic table, placing you right at the back of the line of antsy children waiting to pass off their papers to the teacher waiting at its front. The excitement felt throughout the day dissipates the closer you get; your eyes locked on the untied pair of shoes beside you to avoid seeing just how many students you'd be competing with. The owner of the mitch match sneakers grips the sleeve of your coat, working their bandaged fingers into its opening to hold your hand with a comforting squeeze.

“Don't worry, Y/n. I’m sure you'll win.”

“I don't know…. The whole class is trying.”

“I can always ask my dad to pick you.”

Your anxiousness dies with a giggle of disbelief; your elbow gently nudging the other child's shoulder. “No way! That’s cheating. Besides, the main reason I want to win is to spend more time with you, but you said you don't even like it here that much.”

Their hold grows tighter.

“I'll go anywhere, as long as you’re with me.”

-

Knock- Knock-

A pause.

Knock-

“Just a minute!” 

You pause the brainrot currently playing on the TV, and dust off your clothes as you walk over to the front door. The alarm you set for the occasion goes off the second you rise to your feet. Huh. Tv- Bit later than usual today. On most days, your visitor arrived five minutes before it went off, even when you adjusted the schedule to the new time. Opening the front door, a shower of confetti meets you with the same familiarity as an old friend; the colorful onslaught sending you a wave of shock no matter how many times you're blasted with it. A sharp gasp comes from behind the barrel of the popper.

“O-oh, crap- Sorry about that, Y/n. Didn’t think you'd be so close this time.”

Dressed in a stereotypical mailman outfit with a new miner changes, the figure shoves the remains in their bag and straightens their back; fixing the rim of their bunny-eared hat over their face. The shadow of a sheepish smile appears under the lid. They extend their hand, holding out a bright pink envelope. 

“Got your tickets for you, same as always.”

You take the paper, bittersweet nostalgia lingering on the tip of your tongue like your favorite food you haven't tasted in ages. Ruthieland. The talk of both children and thrill seekers across the county and beyond. It would’ve been anyone's dream to even have the chance of winning lifelong tickets to an amusement park. Imagine your unfortunate luck to be the one child to win that once in a lifetime prize.

“Thank you, Cass.”

The carrier pulls their hat down further. “It's no problem. I actually have something else for you.”

They retrieve another item from their satchel. A single red rose. You take it with addled glee. Normally you didn't get any extra gifts unless it was at the park, or for your birthday or a holiday. 

“This is.. different.” 

Cass rubs at the back of their neck. “It's from me. I thought it'd be nice to give you something myself after all the time we’ve spent together.”

You can’t help but smile, partly from the guilt racking at your nerves. Cass has been delivering your tickets personally for the better half of two years. They were a reserved individual, only opening up to you about three months ago. In the beginning, they just left your tickets at your door and ran off. You weren't even sure if Cass was their name. It was pinned on a jacket they wore in the winter, and they never argued when you called them by that name. 

“That's sweet of you.” You press your fingers over the seam of the envelope. “Would you like a ticket? I can treat you to a float if you show up one day.”

Cass raises their hands. A dark substance is caked beneath the nails of the hand placed to their neck. “N-no thank you. I’m not good with amusement parks… Too loud and not a big fan of roller coasters. I gotta go. Can't be late. See you next month, Y/n.”

Cass flees the scene, running straight down the block instead of climbing into whatever vehicle they came in. You’ve never actually seen them drive. Hopefully they had some sort of transportation. With your company gone, you open the envelope. Four tickets wait for you in the pouch, decorated with four of the park's most beloved mascots. Ruthie Hare, Farmer Crow, Serenity the Baker, and a newer addition to the crew – Bashy Fox. Four tickets for four days of the month. You figured it was the right amount of days. Anymore and you'd probably get sick of going honestly. Since you had nothing better to do, the timing for their arrival was perfect. 

-

Throwing on some casual clothing, you hop on the nearest shuttle to the park. There was a number you could call for a lift, but taking the stroll felt like a nice start to the day. You lived roughly twenty minutes from the location and the stop was only a five minute walk. Excitement peaks for fellow riders of all ages as the park's largest coaster rolls into view, screaming from its passengers clear as day through the thick glass as the carts loop through the biggest hurdle. That one most likely wasn’t in the cards for you together. Especially after you saw someone losing the horde cotton candy they'd eaten before the ride during your last visit.

Stepping off the bus puts you front and center to Ruthieland's main entrance. The park's main mascot smiles down at you and all the other guests, hand raised in a partial wave.

Ruthie Hare was a silly character, as one would expect from a character originally solely targeted towards children. A root beer loving, flute playing hare with a whole gang of friends waiting inside. The anthropomorphic creature was soft pink in color, a black diamond around his left eye and a spotted bow tie from his early days as a circus mascot. He wore brown overalls with one sleeve always pushed down and large, oversized gloves. He had a bite mark on his right ear the comics and shows based off his gang never explained.

Reading your ticket, you march up to the counter to hand it to the attendee on staff. The woman stares at the sky as she aids another customer, cinnamon sugar powered around the corners of her lips. The hat she wore was dawned with rabbit ears just like Cass', but hers was a baseball hat and the ears had been snipped to keep them out of her face.

“Thank you for visiting our fantastic park today. We hope you have a hop-tastic day, and to see you soon… Or not.”

You walk up to the counter.

“Welcome to-Fuck" The woman wipes at her mouth and fixes her cap, adjusting her collar as she leans against the back of her seat.

“Y/n. Sup. Finally gonna let me treat you to the good shit today?”

Her relaxed attitude is a complete one eighty from how she first acted towards you, and the rest of the park goers. Ell, or Dashiell as her tag read, has been manning the ticket booth since high school; when she isn’t cleaning up messes she’s partly responsible for around the park. She was apparently homeschooled which is why you never saw much of her, and hardly showed emotion except for when you were around or in the company of her favorite snacks.

Like everyone else, she thought little of you in the beginning, but when she became aware of your status she figured it wouldn't hurt to get to know you a little. Majority of her coworkers had picked up on the crush she developed over the years, while you still remained obvious. 

“If I’m still here when you get off, then sure.” You pass her your ticket. Ell wipes it through the reader and shoves it directly into her pocket rather than the bin by her post.

“Gonna hold you to it. If I catch word you bailed on me, I'll find out where you live.”

Ell plays off the threat with a pat on your shoulder. “Alright, you better get going. Don't need the head of the lap dogs biting my ass again for holding up the line.”

You heed the warning and take your chance to go on ahead. The last time Ell was able to brew up a conversion, it took nearly a half hour to find your way out. Luckily it was a slow day. Finally entering the park, your senses are overloaded by the smell of buttered popcorn and sugar, and the amplified screams and laughter of everyone else at the park. Today felt like one of those easy days. Just a couple of the more relaxed rides and maybe a look at the other types of attractions till the firework show later in the evening. Maybe it was finally time to go back to the carnival area. 

“Well. Well. Well. Look what we have here.” 

The thick southern drawn slithers up your back like the snake the shadow behind you was. You watch from the silhouettes on the ground as its arm reaches over your shoulder, the handle of a shovel keeping you from going anywhere anytime soon.

“Well I'll be- I knew I could recognize that pretty head of hair from any angle. And here I was thinkin' these weary eyes of mine were foolin’ me.”

“Hello, Farmer.”

The farmer chuckles, voice fluid as  molasses and course as gravel. They step in front of you, twirling the rubber tool before planting it in the cracked concrete for support as they lean on it. They lift their head high so they’re able to see you past the rim of their sun hat and the tip of their beak.

“Howdy, there. Ol' friend.” 

Farmer Crow was the periodic villain of the park. A foul tempered soul, who hunted after the main characters for stealing their supplies. A lot of people sympathize with the crook for this reason, though their original methods for getting rid of the crew were – quite harsh.

The farmer was mostly humanoid and leaned slightly more towards scarecrow than anything with burlap skin and straw coming from the sleeves of their flannel shirt. The upper half of their face was fashioned after a regular crow with a long beak and black feathers. The shovel they carried was once a scythe, but after an accident that resulted in a young boy losing his eye, a petition was created to have it changed. 

“I missed ya dearly. Couldn’t catch a wink of sleep without seeing that face of yours. Here. On the house. As a welcome back present” They palm the breast pocket of their shirt and extend their hand, a small pin resting in their gloved palm.

It depicts the character Serenity offering the grumpy farmer a bouquet of roses. She had always been a neutral figure in the group, baking pies and other goods for them all to enjoy. You met the character at the themed restaurant in the park, and she was as sweet as her desserts. She even snuck you an extra treat on those days when you weren't feeling like yourself.

“A special gift fer a special friend. Long as you stay away from that darned rabbit, and all the other troublemakers we can be pals.” Farmer Crow readjusts their grip on their tool. Their tone is quiet, almost hesitant as they continue. “We are pals, ain’t we?”

“Course. Thank you, Crow.”

You take the pin from them. As you do, a group of kids runs up to them for an autograph. One of the older teens bumps right into you and just keeps running ahead. Strange. Farmer Crow grumbles something under their breath, but faces the crowd; body still angled towards you. You wave. 

“I'll catch up with you later, Crow. Try not to murder anyone.”

“I'll try…” 

Continuing ahead, you barely make it ten steps before another person is running up to you.

“Hey, Y/n! Wait up!”

The male catches his breath as you stop, standing to full attention now that your focus is solely towards him. He turns slightly so you can get a good look into his good eye; his right lidded and iris milky.

“You- Whew. Dropped this.” He holds out your phone to you. You slap your hand against the pocket it was held in, unaware of its absence until then.

“Crap. When did that happen? Thank you so much, Atlas.” You return your phone where it belonged. What would you do without this man? A newer hire, but one of the most helpful park employees you had met to date. He helped you out on those scarily frequent occasions you lost your phone or your keys, sometimes driving you home when the shuttle didn’t show. It was honestly no surprise really that he became head of security in such a short time.

Atlas waves off the praise. “It's nothing, Y/n. Just helping out a friend is all. Everything else okay? Need a chaperone around the park? Someone to take you home later?”

“Nah, I'll be fine. I think I’ve been coming to the park long enough to know my way around.”

Atlas looks a little down, but quickly picks himself back up. “I understand. If you need anything, you got my number and I'll be in the back checking the cameras for your every move.”

Realizing his error, the guard backtracks. “N-not that I’m watching you specifically! I meant it like I'll be watching out for everyone, but you especially. Cause I care about you and all.”

Atlas fakes a laugh. “I probably said too much, huh? I'll get out of your way for now. Talk to you another time.” 

The guard politely excuses himself; retracing his steps just to make sure you have his contact information including an email and back up phone. He leaves you to your business and with no further interruptions you go about your day. Getting on your rides of choice, exploring the on-plot museum and trying out some of the seasonal treats. You even meet back up with Ell at one point to fulfill her previous requests. You wonder about blissfully unaware to all the eyes that follow you; a mix of human, faux, and from behind the lens of a camera. 

As the day draws to an end, you finish your trip by sitting on the ledge of the fountain in the middle of the park and watching the fireworks. It was the central hub of the area, giving attendees easy access to all the different junctions. Small droplets of water sprinkle the back of your shirt as the fountain recycles its stream, but you don't mind. Vibrant flashes of color bead across the sky, blinding you momentarily from their brightness and the sheer wonder of it all. If there was one thing you could never get tired of – it was this. With the fireworks soon coming to an end, you stand up. Where did everyone go?

A sharp whistle pierces through the loud booms.

 You look around.

There’s a short breath, before another whistle. The sound stops for a solid five seconds, and then another.

It continues longer this time. You’re able to trail it back to your left, towards the circus themed corner of the park. Your breath quickens. 

Standing right beneath the sign was an all too familiar, buck toothed face. He waves his arm in your direction, drooping ears swaying with the motion. They looked longer than the poster's pictured them to be – every part of him did. 

“Ruthie?”

The hare nods, beckoning you towards him with a finger. You haven’t seen him in ages. While his face was still plastered everywhere, the mascot himself had been retired from walking about for reasons even you didn't know. He points over to the large circus tent at the back of the park, forming a heart with his thin fingers. 

“I can't come with you. The park is going to close soon.”

His arms fall to their sides. He stomps his foot before pointing again. Seeing you won't budge, he steps forward. He moves as though an unseen weight is dragging his body to the ground, dragging the left side of his body forward. Paralyzed by fear, you remain glued to your spot as he nears. The fur around his mouth glistens with a dark substance. As he stands over you, you shut your eyes, fearing the worst. It's only when you hear the mascot shuffling away that you open them.

In your lap is a napkin with two, mug shaped candies nestled in it. Ruthie's favorite. Beneath the sweets are three words.

Some-bunny likes you.

[thebunnednun]

Whispers of the Heart Dracule Mihawk x Fm! Reader (Part 4)

I do not own the artwork its by: @xuchuan25 Tell them they're amazing y'all!

Chapter 4 in the building y'all!!!! I just needed to see my Buggy.

Part 1 can be found: Here

Part 2 is right: Here

Part 3: Right over yonder

Don't be afraid to send me any requests my loves and if you are waiting for the next installment I have another Mihawk story:

*Shadows of the Blade (Dracule Mihawk x Assassin reader)

If you like sexy swordplay and themes of overcoming trauma then this is the story for you!. If you wanna skip to the good stuff try chapter 3.

Backstory:

You've been Dracule Mihawk's personal maid and housekeeper for what feels like an eternity. Let's cut to the chase – you're a badass, sweetheart. Sexy, cool, and confident, with a reputation that precedes you. Been friends with the stoic man for eons by now.

Everyone knows you or knows of you, and it's not just because you keep Mihawk's castle running like a well-oiled machine.

So what happens when you develop feelings for your old friend and boss?

What does he do when he comes home to find you in his room without your panties?

Also, muneca-chan= baby doll

ON WITH THE SHOW!!~

________________Chapter 4: A Clown's Counsel___________________

"Everything is going to be fine," you murmur softly, your voice echoing faintly into the open air. 

Your heart pounds with a mixture of excitement and nervousness as you stand alone in the vast, empty waters of the ocean. With a determined expression, you whisper reassuring words to yourself, trying to quell the rising tide of anxiety.

"You've locked down the castle securely. You just need to make this quick trip and return before Mihawk, Perona, and Zoro even realize you're gone." Taking a deep breath, you glance around the dimly lit deck one last time before turning your attention to your bag.

With meticulous care, you rummage through its contents, double-checking that you have everything you need for your journey. Each item holds a significance, a memory of past adventures and encounters that fuels your determination.

'I am a pirate queen of all the oceans. I was raised on an island in the Grand line and chose to live a life of peace. I can fucking sail a boat!'

After hanging up with Shanks last night, you decided to get up and moving if you were going to make your trip in time. Mihawk rarely ever sent word of his return home, unless he wanted a specific dinner and wine waiting for him.

You knew you'd have anywhere from a few days to two months before you saw him again. With a long sigh, you held your face in your hands for a moment of calm. 

The weather had turned for the worst overnight leaving you to sail the nearby waters in the middle of a rain storm. But, you honestly didn't mind one bit. It reminded you of your home island and like the homesick tall-child you were, you stood there on your little boat without a jacket or umbrella.

Call you crazy, but you wished for it to rain harder so all the confusing emotions inside you could be washed away somehow. Looking behind you, your eyes caught the slight glimmer of two familiar objects looking out of the bag behind you.

"Mhm," walking over, you reached inside, allowing your fingers to grasp the handle of two familiar old friends. The golden ridges caught the light from your dimming lantern.

Two identical machetes gleamed back at you, a parting gift from your mother. Your native tongue etched into the blade, they possessed a soft hum, almost whispering out to you. The temptation to harness your belt on and feel them resting on your hips again was almost irresistible. But instead, you drew your bag closed over them and set it down once more.

Constantly fighting for your life and the life of your crew mates was not something you missed about the old life. Yes, battles of honor were fun and sometimes even lead to creating new friends, however, there were too many attempts of pure murder. 

As a caption, you very much followed Gold Rodgers example of what a pirate should be. However, you also believed in not looking for fights. Now, you weren't out of practice by any means, Mihawk would never allow that.

But you could feel yourself adjust instantly to this old way of living and it kinda bothered you. However, resisting the temptation let you know that you were still you. 

You really have come so far in life. <3

Satisfied that you are well-prepared, you make your way to the shores of a nearby island, your footsteps echoing softly in the silence of the night. As you reach the edge of the water, you pause, your gaze scanning the horizon with a sense of anticipation.

Knowing that discretion is key, you reach into your bag once more, retrieving a carefully crafted cloak. The rumors of your death would fool the general public, but not other pirates or worse- fame hungry pirate captions.

You disappeared under the deck for a moment to find an old mirror. Then with practiced precision, you transform your appearance, concealing your identity behind a clever facade. As you adjust the final details of your disguise, you feel a surge of confidence wash over you. A small smile reaches your lips before a giggle slips out.

'Shanks would love this.'

With your transformation complete, you set off along the shoreline, your eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of activity. This island was Buggy's last known location, and you are determined to find him. Every step brings you closer to your goal, your senses heightened with anticipation.

'Now or never.'

As you navigate the sandy shores, the salty breeze caresses your cheeks, invigorating your spirit with a sense of adventure. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a soft glow upon the landscape, guiding your way through the darkness.

With each passing moment, your anticipation grows, fueled by the promise of reunion and the thrill of the unknown. Your senses are sharp, attuned to the subtlest of sounds and movements, as you scan the surroundings for any sign of life.

And then, in the distance, you catch a glimpse of movement—a flicker of movement amidst the shadows.

A big top. 

Without a second thought, you take off running in that direction. Unworried about the rain, you can barely hear the sound of your feet hitting the muddy ground over your pounding heart. Your breath quickens with excitement as you draw closer, your footsteps quickening with each stride.

"No you fucking shit head, it's WRONG!"

"Found you!"

Finally reaching the tent, you poked inside to see where that lovable asshole was. Ducking under the bleachers, you watched as a tall familiar figure threw a barrage of insults at some huddled performers. Several freaks were passing and going throughout the chaos to practice their acts and hone their talents. 

Amidst a flurry of activity, stood Buggy, his presence commanding attention amidst the chaos. You pause for a moment, watching him rehearse with his performers, a fond smile playing at the corners of your lips.

"If you can't get the lion to dance by this Friday, I am going to eat him. I don't give a FUCK how chewy he is!"

There stood a timid man with an animal that cowered before the infamous caption of the East Blue.

Ever the drama queen, Buggy's appearance was as flamboyant and eccentric as ever. He stood tall and proud, his colorful attire adorned with sequins and feathers that shimmered in the light. His hair, a riotous explosion of bright blue curls, framed his face in wild abandon, adding to his larger-than-life persona. His eyes, usually twinkling with mischief and charm, were now almost bloodshot and darted around the room, taking in every detail with a keen sense of curiosity. 

You can't help but chuckle at Buggy's theatrics, a familiar warmth spreading through your chest at the sight of him. Despite his bombastic demeanor, you know there's a soft side to him that few ever see.

As the chaos around him continues, you take a moment to compose yourself before stepping out from your hiding spot. With a mischievous grin, you call out to him in a teasing tone:

"Now that's not nice and you know it." 

Buggy's head snaps up at the sound of your voice, "We're closed right now!"

"Oh, this dumbass." You roll your eyes under the hood before pulling it from your head. His eyes widening in surprise before a wide grin splits his face. Without a moment's hesitation, he strides forward, his arms open wide in welcome.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my favorite troublemaker," he replies, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. With a dramatic flourish, he strides over to you, sweeping you into a tight hug that almost knocks the breath out of you.

Finding yourself unable to keep your composer, you giggle into the chest of the shockingly 6'5 man and snuggle into his chest to quil the ache in your heart, returning his embrace with just as much intensity.

"How've you been, sis?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern as he pulls back to look at you, his hands resting on the apples of your cheeks.

You relish in the familiar comfort of his presence. "Oh, you know, same old same old," you reply, trying to play it cool despite the category 8 hurricane of emotions swirling within you. "Just thought I'd drop by and say hello."

Buggy quirks an eyebrow at your casual tone, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh really? Or is there something else on your mind?" he teases, giving your left cheek a playful pinch with his fingers.

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a laugh at his antics. "Maybe a little bit of both," you admit, your voice softening as you meet his gaze.

"I've missed you, Buggy. It's been too long."

Buggy's expression softens, his eyes reflecting the sincerity of your words. "I've missed you too, [Name]," he replies, his voice gentle as he squeezes your shoulders affectionately. "But something tells me there's more to this visit than just catching up."

You let out a sigh, knowing you can't hide anything from Buggy. "You know me too well," you admit, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

As Buggy's eyebrows furrow in concern, his gaze searching yours for any hint of distress, you take a deep breath, gathering the courage to confide in him. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You glance briefly at his performers, then lock eyes with Buggy again, a sense of urgency gripping your heart. "Got a place where we can chat in private?" you inquire, your voice barely above a whisper.

Buggy's expression flickers to something fierce, a glint of determination in his sea-green eyes as he analyzes you. Without a word, he stands tall, his shoulders squared, commanding the attention of his crew.

"Everyone is to keep performing," he announces firmly, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. "And when I come back, that lion better know how to tap dance or I'm making good on my promise!" His crew responds with a chorus of "Eye Sir's!" before Buggy ushers you away, leading you to a different part of the tent.

With swift efficiency, he pushes you inside a dressing room adorned with a star, the blue clown's symbol adorning the door. As you step inside, the door closes behind you with a soft click, enveloping you in a cocoon of privacy.

Taking a moment to collect your thoughts, you brace yourself for the conversation ahead, knowing that Buggy's keen intuition will leave no stone unturned. As you await his prompting, you can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for his unwavering support, even in the face of your deepest secrets.

The dressing room is a small, cozy space adorned with whimsical decorations that reflect the flamboyant nature of its occupants. The walls are painted a soothing shade of sky blue, with colorful streamers cascading from the ceiling, adding a playful touch to the atmosphere.

In one corner of the room, a vanity table sits adorned with an assortment of makeup and accessories, its surface gleaming under the soft glow of a dim lamp. A large mirror framed in ornate gold stands at the center, reflecting the room's eclectic charm.

Against the opposite wall, a row of hooks holds an array of costumes, each garment more vibrant and extravagant than the last. Sequins sparkle in the light, and feathers flutter gently as if caught in an unseen breeze.

In the center of the room, a plush red armchair beckons invitingly, its cushions adorned with polka dots in varying shades of blue. A small side table sits nearby, stacked with magazines and trinkets, offering a glimpse into the eclectic tastes of its occupants. The air is tinged with the faint scent of powder and perfume, a lingering reminder of the performers who call this space their own.

Despite its small size, the dressing room exudes an undeniable sense of warmth and camaraderie, a sanctuary where secrets are shared and dreams take flight.

Walking over to the vanity, you plucked a familiar red lipstick off the dresser before turning it in your fingers. "Ya know, I used to hate when you'd steal my lipstick," Buggy joked softly, crossing his arms over the swell of his chest. 

Upon hearing his words, your fingers instinctively squeeze the familiar red lipstick perched on the edge of the dresser. You hold it tighter, feeling its smooth texture against your skin, a sense of nostalgia washing over you. Looking up in the vanity mirror, you make eye contact with Buggy. His eyes sparkle with fond memories, a playful glint dancing in their depths.

You chuckle softly at his remark, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you remember the countless times you had playfully raided his makeup collection. "Well, you always did have the best shade of red," you tease back, your voice laced with affection.

Setting the lipstick back down on the vanity, you turn to face Buggy, the warmth of his presence filling the room. Despite the gravity of the conversation looming between you, his easy demeanor brings a sense of comfort, grounding you in the present moment. 

(You know shits bad when you gotta go to the crazy killer pirate clown for advice and comfort. Love and life advice at that!)

As you lean against the vanity, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm hue across your features, you find yourself lost in a moment of quiet contemplation. Memories of past adventures with Buggy flood your mind, each one a vibrant snapshot of the bond you share.

"You know," Buggy begins, his tone softening as he meets your gaze, "I've missed having you around. Things just haven't been the same without your antics to liven up the place."

His words stir something deep within you, a mixture of gratitude and longing intertwining in your heart. Despite the passage of time and the distance between you, the connection you share with Buggy remains steadfast, a beacon of light in the darkness.

"I've missed you too," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

"It's been lonely without you."

A flicker of sadness crosses Buggy's features, his gaze softening with empathy. "I know, sweetheart," he says gently, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face. "But you're here now, and that's all that matters." You gently grasp the back of his hand that cradles your face. Almost afraid that you'll wake up in that cold and empty castle again. The warmth of Buggy's palm anchors you to the human world.

In that moment, as you stand together in the quiet intimacy of the dressing room, you are reminded of the strength of your bond with Buggy. Through thick and thin, laughter and tears, you know that he will always be there for you, ready to offer his support and unwavering friendship.

No matter the situation, you'd always been there to defend Buggy and build each other's esteem up. Even Mihawk knew not to slip up when talking about the Flashy Jester if he didn't want to be shanked again. 

Speaking of Mihawk-

"So, you gonna tell me why you showed up all of a sudden instead of sending a letter or are we gonna stand here quietly together?" His voice snapping you out of your thoughts with the buzz of its low tone.

"Don't get me wrong muneca-chan, I love seeing you." He softly muses, stepping closer towards you until he pulled the stool from under the vanity out and sits you on it before dropping into his own red chair. 

"But something tells me there's more to this visit than just catching up."

You let out a sigh, knowing you can't hide anything from Buggy. "You know me too well," you admit, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "There's something really important I need to talk to you about. Shanks already knows before he called me last night, stop making that face, and you can't tell anyone else under any circumstances!"

Buggy's eyebrows furrow in concern, his gaze searching yours for any hint of distress. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Taking a deep breath, you gather your thoughts before speaking. "It's about love," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. "I... I think I have feelings for someone, Buggy."

"I think I'm in love."

Buggy's eyes widen in surprise, his expression shifting from concern to understanding.

"Ah, love," he murmurs, his voice soft with sympathy. "Love can be a tricky thing, especially when it comes to matters of the heart."

You nod, grateful for his understanding. "I just don't know what to do," you admit, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "I'm torn between staying here and following my heart."

Buggy places a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you in the midst of your turmoil. "Listen to me, [Name]," he says, his voice gentle yet firm. "You can't let fear hold you back from pursuing what makes you happy. If you have feelings for someone, then you owe it to yourself to explore them, regardless of the outcome."

You take in his words, feeling a sense of clarity wash over you. "Thank you, Buggy," you say softly, your voice filled with gratitude. "I needed to hear that."

Buggy gives you a reassuring smile, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "Anytime, sis," he replies, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"Now, let's hear who the lucky one is!" 

Your smile stiffens before you whisper out quietly. Buggy frowns and leans closer from his chair.

"What's that, starshine?" 

As you gather your thoughts, the weight of your confession is lingering heavy in the air. Buggy's concern deepens, his brow furrowing as he leans in closer, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

With a sigh, you summon the courage to speak, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's... it's Mihawk," you confess, your words hanging in the air like a delicate thread.

Buggy's eyes widen in surprise, his expression a mixture of shock and understanding. "Mihawk?" he repeats, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"As in, Dracule Mihawk?"

You nod slowly, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as the truth finally comes to light. "Yes, Mihawk," you confirm, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging within you. "I... I think I'm in love with him."

Buggy's initial reaction catches you off guard. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and for a moment, a look of concern flashes across his face. "Wait, hold on a second," he says, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"Are you serious?"

You nod, feeling a pang of uncertainty creeping in. "Yes, Buggy," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know it sounds crazy, but... I think I might be in love with him."

Buggy's expression darkens, his features contorting into a mixture of shock and concern. "Are you feeling okay?" he asks, his voice laced with worry. "I mean, have you been feeling sick or something?"

You shake your head, a sense of frustration bubbling up within you. "No, Buggy, I'm not sick," you retort, a hint of irritation seeping into your tone. "I'm serious about this."

Buggy lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his wild blue hair. "Look, muneca-chan," he begins, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "This isn't something to take lightly. Mihawk is... well, he's not exactly the most approachable guy, you know? And besides, he's your boss, for crying out loud!"

You feel a surge of defiance rising within you. "I know all of that, Buggy," you say firmly, your voice unwavering. "But I can't help how I feel."

Buggy's frustration mounts, and suddenly he's popping his hands off in a fit of anger.

"Has he been trying to feel up on you? OW- OKAY! PUT THE PALLET DOWN THAT ONE WAS EXPENSIVE!" 

While you were holding his makeup hostage, the clown was now rubbing where his hair brush had struck his pectoral. Slowly, you sat back down in the chair as he regarded you like a wild hellcat. A pit of dread now knotted your stomach. 

"I'm not joking Buggy, I need thoughts!" 

"And prayers, you're gonna need them with that eagle- NOT THE FUCKING FACE!" You lobbed a jar of hair cream at him before breaking down in the vanity stool. "Don't be an ass okay! I didn't say anything about you and Shanks!" You gasped, hoping that your voice wouldn't crack any further. 

The weight of your words hangs heavily in the air, and you realize just how much you've been holding back. "I... I'm sorry," you stammer, guilt washing over you as hot, fat tears slip from the corners of your eyes.

Before you can even register it, Buggy has crossed the room in a few quick strides and scooped you up into his strong arms, returning to his chair and settling you onto his lap like a small child.

With your face pressed into his striped shirt, you let the dam burst, unleashing all the pent-up tears you've been holding back. Buggy's hand runs soothingly over your back, cradling your head to his chest as he murmurs comforting words.

Reaching into his sleeve, he pulls out a ridiculously long handkerchief, prompting some weak laughter from you despite your tears.

"You've been doing that corny ass joke since we were kids," you sniffle, gingerly wiping your nose before he tosses the hanky into the wastebasket.

"Yeah, well, it still gets a laugh outta ya, so I'ma keep on with it," Buggy replies with a soft smile. He gazes down at you with those piercing eyes of his, scanning your face with a mixture of concern and affection.

Buggy lets out another exasperated sigh, his frustration evident but tempered by genuine worry. "Look, muneca-chan, I get it," he says, his voice gentler now. "Love can make you do crazy things, feel crazy things. But you need to be careful. Mihawk... he's a complicated guy. He's got a lot of walls up, and he's not exactly known for being... well, open-hearted. I know you guys are friends and I was shocked he let you stay with him. But love is a whole different ball game."

You nod, feeling a bit more grounded by his words and presence. "I know he's complicated, Buggy," you say, your voice steadier now. "But I can't help how I feel. I just needed to tell someone, to get it off my chest."

Buggy holds you a little tighter, his grip reassuring. "Well, you've told me now, and we'll figure this out together," he promises. "Just don't go making any rash decisions, okay? Take your time, think things through. And remember, no matter what happens, you've got me in your corner."

His words, laced with both caution and encouragement, bring a small but genuine smile to your face. "Thank you, Buggy," you whisper, leaning into his embrace. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Anytime, starshine," he replies softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "We'll get through this, one step at a time." He wipes the tears from your face with his warm thumbs, "But promise me you'll be careful, okay? I don't want to see you get hurt."

You can see the genuine concern in Buggy's eyes, and it touches your heart. Despite his gruff exterior, you know that he cares deeply for you, and his protective instincts are kicking in full force.

You nod, grateful for his understanding. "I just don't know what to do," you admit, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "I'm torn between staying here and following my heart."

Buggy places a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you in the midst of your turmoil. "Listen to me, sis," he says, his voice gentle yet firm. "You can't let fear hold you back from pursuing what makes you happy. If you have feelings for Mihawk, then you owe it to yourself to explore them, regardless of the outcome." Your eyes glance over his right pec, knowing what picture was hidden inside that pocket. 

"But here's the thing about love, [Name]. It's not always easy to understand, and it's certainly not always convenient. But when you find someone who makes your heart skip a beat, someone who makes you feel alive in a way you've never felt before, well, you'd be a fool not to hold onto that with both hands."

Buggy's gaze softens, his features morphing into a look of genuine empathy. "Love is a complicated thing," he murmurs, his voice filled with compassion. "But if Mihawk is the one who holds your heart, then you owe it to yourself to pursue those feelings."

He gives you a reassuring smile, his eyes reflecting the depth of his friendship and loyalty. "You'll figure it out, sis," he says, his voice filled with confidence. "And remember, I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

His words struck a chord deep within you, resonating with the turmoil of emotions that had been swirling inside you since Mihawk's departure. Suddenly, everything seemed to fall into place, the confusion and uncertainty giving way to a newfound clarity. Buggy gives you a reassuring smile, his eyes sparkling with warmth.

"Anytime, [Name]," he replies, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze.

You nod, grateful for Buggy's understanding and support. "Thank you, Buggy," you whisper softly , a sense of gratitude flooding your heart. "I needed to hear that."

As you stand wrapped in Buggy's embrace, you feel a sense of relief wash over you. His arms are strong and comforting, a reminder of the unwavering bond you share. But as he pulls back, a toothy grin spreads across his face, and you catch a glimpse of a familiar, sinister gleam in his eyes.

"And if he fucks up," Buggy says, his voice low and menacing, "there's gonna be one less Warlord in the sea."

The way he says it sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but chuckle nervously. Buggy's expression is a mix of protective determination and a hint of madness that you've come to recognize over the years. His blue curls frame his face, giving him an almost theatrical appearance, but you know better than to underestimate the seriousness behind his words.

His gaze sharpens, and for a moment, the room seems to grow darker as he continues. "I mean it, muneca-chan. Mihawk might be a badass with that big-ass sword of his, but he's no match for my flashy tricks. One wrong move, and I'll make sure he regrets it."

Buggy's eyes glint with a dangerous intensity, and you can tell that his big-brother instincts are in overdrive. Despite his eccentricities, you know that he would go to great lengths to ensure your happiness and safety. You reach out to place a hand on his arm, squeezing gently to remind him that you appreciate his concern.

"I know you would, Buggy," you say softly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "But let's hope it doesn't come to that. I just needed to talk to someone who understands."

Buggy's expression softens at your words, the sinister edge fading as he looks at you with genuine affection. "Yeah, yeah," he mutters, rolling his eyes playfully. "Just remember, I'm always here for you, no matter what."

With that, he pulls you into another tight hug, his embrace warm and reassuring. You know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you'll always have Buggy by your side, ready to offer his unwavering support and friendship—even if it means taking on a Warlord of the sea.

"I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Probably live a very boring and un-flashy life."

"Oh no~, what a nightmare, HEY!"

He flashed you a smile as you held your recently pinched side. 

"Now, let's get you set up to spend the night. We've got a lot to catch up on." 

______________________________________________________________

And that wraps up chapter 4 of this series. Oh I am going to make you all work for 'that' delicious chapter.~

Part 5 is now posted.

At the time of this being posted, 5/19/2024, there is a poll ongoing for what, you, the lovely readers, would love to be called. Be sure to cast your votes!!

Make sure you check out the a03 account by the same name. Everything I have posted here is there in chronological order. I also have a few Buggy the Clown x Reader's posted in the masterlist! Give it a read if you please!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

Seen you soon my loves!!~ <<33

[double-0h-no]

Lazy Sunday Morning

The last one!!! Can't believe I finished it before midnight. My last prompt fill for the Fest for the prompts "love interest" and @l219tj 's little poem, to whom this entire work is dedicated, inspired by our very first exchange that spawned its own little legacy, at least to me, personally. It felt right to leave off the Fest on a schmoopy note, and I really couldn't finish it without gifting you a work after all you've done for my over the last month. Thank you so much, you've really enriched this event for me, and I hope you enjoy this <3

on ao3

James returns from a mission and brings breakfast.

The sun fell through the window, cut into thin ribbons by the blinds, and illuminated the bed in zebra stripes of light and shadow.

The bedroom door was opened just enough for Koschek to slip in and jump on the bed, gracelessly traipsing over Q's legs, all the way up his body until he found a spot under his chin to settle down again. Q didn't even stir, only breathed a deep sigh and continued his slumber.

He looked peaceful, and so incredibly beautiful, the pale, unblemished skin of his skin on full display, the blanket draped around his hips oh so enticingly, baring the small of his back but covering everything below. 

James contemplated climbing into bed with him. Burying his face in the sheets that smelled only of Q after his long absence, but he'd returned home with a plan in mind. 

"What are you doing all the way over there?" Q's voice was rough with sleep, low and shapeless, so different from the edges and barbs it usually had. Precious.

"What do you have in that bag?" For that he was as blind as a mole without his glasses, that was an impressively astute assessment. If he saw a bit better, he'd be able to tell it were two bags, one from the bakery, one from his favourite patisserie. 

But that was for later.

"James?" Well, he couldn't well just return to the kitchen now, could he?

As quietly as possible, so as not to shatter the fragile, peaceful moment, he stepped around the bed and ran his free hand through Q's hopelessly tousled curls before he bent down and pressed a sweet, innocent kiss to his forehead. As if he hadn't just returned from a mission that was anything but.

"You brought breakfast." He sounded still too sleepy to convey any sort of enthusiasm, but James knew him well enough to spot the deep appreciation in his tone.

"And you can have it in bed, if you like." 

Q scrunched up his nose in a frankly adorable fashion. "No, I don't want crumbs in bed. Unless that was an innuendo, and you're offering yourself, and it just flew right over my head. Then I should at least brush my teeth and probably join you in the shower."

The small furrow had appeared between his brows, the one that only showed when he was lost deep in thought, and James couldn't hold back the smile at the careful consideration of the logistics of sex before breakfast.

"No innuendo. Not saying that I don't want to ravish you, but you're a more enthusiastic participant after your second cup of tea."

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and Q's eyes slid shut again as James gently carded his fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp with practised ease.

"I see you have our day off all figured out."

"Not all of it, by far. But let me get that first cup of tea started for you, and then we'll see, yes?"

"You okay?", Q asked suddenly, as if the thought that James was indeed only returning from a mission had only occurred to him now.

"Right as rain, darling. Take your time, I'll be waiting in the kitchen for you."

Q gave a pleased sigh, and shifted on the bed, dislodging Koschek who mrrped and looked up at James in accusation.

"I'll be right with you."

James bent down again for another kiss that elicited another soft, pleasure-drunken sound. He knew this moment stood out for its scarcity, but God, he swore he could live an entire life of this.

"Love you," Q murmured as James straightened his posture and looked down at the ridiculous, perfect creature who actually meant it. 

A lifetime of this. 

"Love you too." 

And he turned to make that first cup of tea.