#BLEEDING OUT ON THE FLOOR. 3 SECONDS FROM MY LAST BREATHE

[leonkennedyaoi]

remember what they took from us

[tadpolesonalgae]

Who Do You Belong To?

Cassian x reader

a/n: thank you for this lovely little request, anon <3! I think it’s becoming a tradition in my mind to give Cassian fics the most straightforward title I can think of 🫡

warnings: smut, slight possessive! Cassian but he’s more on the soft side in this 🧡💛

word count: 2,691

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“Mother above Cassian he’s down! He’s down!” 

You grip onto his sleeve, wrapping your hands around his wrist as you leverage your weight against him slightly in attempts to keep him from descending into a rage upon the male. Cassian halts the swift motion of his arm, brutal movement halting the second he feels how you’re pulling against him, preventing his bloodied knuckles from further splitting skin. 

“That’s enough,” you say firmly, meeting his half-wild eyes and you can tell he’s struggling with his instincts, to obliterate any sort of threat to his mate, no matter how insignificant in the long run. His jaw is set, a hot temper further heating his blood as hazel eyes hold your own, thick brows narrowed over top in a furrowed fury. A muscle ticks in his jaw, nostrils flaring slightly as the male groans beneath him but Cassian makes no move to deliver another blow to the bleeding mess below him. 

You hold his gaze, keeping a firm grip on his sleeve despite knowing he could very easily knock you away and continue to satisfy his roaring instincts. But his throat rolls, refusing to so much as glance at the male who’s gasping wetly on the floor as he stands, towering over you as the wrath fades, his temper soothed by your whole-hearted attention. A tentative smile softens the edges of your irises as you gaze up at him, squeezing his hand lightly, ignoring the slippery wetness of blood that’s managed to splatter itself over the knuckles of his fist. 

Cassian’s brows narrow, then he’s wordlessly dipping down and you yelp as he puts you over his shoulder, turning for the exit of the inn. “Cassian!” You splutter, struggling to get a steady placement but managing to press your palms down onto the muscle of his shoulder. “Cassian put me down this instant! You can’t just throw a possessive fit every time we come to Illyria. This happens every time!” 

“Maybe this time you’ll remember who you belong to,” he mutters roughly, refusing to so much as lighten his grip on you as he carries you swiftly out the door, already heading straight for the cabin. 

“Who I belong to?” You repeat indignantly. “It’s not my fault that male was so persistent. How was I to know he’d try and grab at me?” Cassian growls lowly at the memory alone, and you grimace—it isn’t a good idea to provoke him when he’s in one of these moods. 

“Put me down,” you demand firmly, holding yourself up as he continues through the barren streets, the icy breeze of windhaven shivering down your skin as it bites at exposed flesh. “I can walk on my own damned legs, Cassian.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” he mutters back, squeezing the back of your upper thigh harshly. 

You decide to fall into silence—let him blow off steam on the way back. Maybe the icy wind will cool that temper of his. 

It’s only once you’re all the way inside the cabin, bedroom door shut firmly that he sets you down on the floor again, at last allowing your feet to touch the wooden boards. He gazes down at you, calloused palms remaining set firmly on your body, spanning your hip and shoulder as he looks down at you with conflict in his sharp hazel eyes. 

You incline your chin to meet his gaze, keeping within his hold. 

His nostrils flare delicately again, inhaling your scent as he dips down, grazing the intimate skin of your throat with his hot lips and a shudder trails down your spine, fingers tangling in his hair, hesitantly at first, then with certainty. His breath fans across the erogenous expanse, and your own breath hitches as you tilt your head to the side, allowing more access. 

“You know, Cass,” you mumble lowly as he opens his mouth over your throat, hot tongue licking up the side of your throat as his teeth follow behind. “You can’t keep flying into a rage like that. I don’t think it’s good for you to so frequently be subject to that kind of emotion.” 

“They should know not to touch you by now,” he growls back, grip tightening on your body. “I feel like I’ve broken every male’s jaw in this godsdamn village. Twice. I’ll beat it into their thick skulls if I have to. You’re mine.”  

You hum faintly, and he bites at your neck, eager to leave more obvious marks on your body than last time. Maybe if his teeth marks are visible they’ll understand just how off limits you are. They’re just foot-soldiers for Mother’s sake. They should know not to touch what’s his. 

“You remember you have a meeting this afternoon,” you remind lightly, fingers stroking through the dark silk of his hair. He snarls against your throat, then roughly guides you back to the bed. “I remember,” he mutters, calloused palms sliding up the backs of your thighs, taking your dress with them. “Though they’ll be short a member for a week or so.” 

You sigh heavily, though it’s endearing to a degree—that he’s so vigilant about protecting you. “You should change. And wash. You’ll smell like blood.” 

“I’ll smell like you, by the time we’re done.” 

“Maybe briefly, but you need to at least wash your hands clean before you go. I think you got some of his blood under your nails.” 

“Stop bringing him up,” Cassian mutters hotly against your throat, canines grazing your skin menacingly. He pushes you roughly back again and you topple back onto the bed, dress pulled from your body so you’re only left on your underthings. 

“I’m not,” you reply breathlessly, but in truth you can’t remember what the two of you were battling about. Just that you disagreed over something…you think. The thoughts are swept away as Cassian tugs his shirt off over his head, gripping the back of the material and dragging it over his shoulders and off from his body before tossing it carelessly to the floor. Hazel eyes rove over you with that familiar intensity, and your skin heats beneath that look. Possessive and hungry. 

Cassian’s sharp eyes gleam as he prowls up over your body, caging you in as his powerful arms press either side of your shoulders, weighing into the mattress. “Maybe this time you’ll get it,” he murmurs lowly making you glance at him warily. “Get what?” You snap though it’s without venom. His hand grazes the soft skin of your stomach, thumbing over your breast as he pulls the lacy strap down over your shoulder. “That you belong to me,” he says quietly, staring down at you intently, “that nobody can put their hands on you like that.” 

“I’m used to it,” you reply breathlessly, aching acutely for his touch to warm more parts of you. 

The General snarls lowly, the noise reverberating heavily through his chest at your response, broad palm cupping your cheek as he gazes down at you, splayed across his bed. “I don’t want you to be used to it,” he mutters, “I want them to keep their damn hands to themselves or I’ll cut them clean off.” 

“You know that isn’t a viable solution,” you mumble, fingers skating up over the muscle of his upper arms. “You can’t go cutting the hands off your soldiers.” 

“They’re my soldiers. I can do as I please.”

“You have a serious possessive streak, you know that?” You question lightly, liking the feel of his bare skin beneath your fingertips. 

His hot mouth envelops your own, and your eyes flutter shut. Canines graze your lower lip, rough palms sliding up your sides before lowering again, fingers tugging your underwear away to make room for him. Time swirls uselessly in the background as he hungrily applies himself, deep noises rumbling through his chest as he presses closer to you. 

When Cassian pulls away to attend to himself words are a distant memory, mouth feeling cold without his own covering yours. You groan lowly to draw his attention again, but he pushes your thighs further, encouraging their stance to widen and you follow the orders succinctly. You know he likes it when you do that. The edges of his mouth curve but it’s all the approval he’ll allow you to receive as he aligns himself with the soft dip between your thighs. 

Breath is pushed from your lungs, spine arching as he gently guides himself in, making sure to take care as he enters you, knowing how you sometimes ache the next day if he doesn’t insist on this slow part. Already though your hips are inclining to encourage him deeper, but he holds himself back, taking his time to enter a few inches, pull back, then slide in a little further. Slowly but steadily plying you apart for him. 

Once his hips are flush with your own, he cups your jaw, guiding your eyes to his once more. Hunger and affection swirl together as he lightly presses his brow to your own, lips a breath’s width from your mouth and it would take minimal effort to join you. But he makes no move to kiss you, and you’re still struggling to become accustomed to the way he’s filling you up, stretching you out. 

“Maybe this would be better,” her murmurs over your mouth, hazel eyes sliding open to look at you from beneath heavy lids. He shifts on top of you, pulling out halfway then sliding slowly but firmly back in causing your back to arch into him, breasts pressing fully to his powerfully built chest. “If I keep you close enough you’ll always have my scent on you,” he breathes, eyes flicking over your features. His upper lip curls slightly, that fury flashing behind his eyes and your breath catches. “Maybe then they’ll know to keep their fucking hands to themselves.”

You manage to nod your head along because that sounds perfect to you right now. Having him inside you as much as possible, joining together, having his calloused palms rasping against the softness of your skin as he touches you… 

Cassian snarls abruptly, eyes flashing with renewed fury as his hand covers the top of your shoulder, wings flaring wide at his back as he pulls back slightly, glaring down at the patch of skin. “I can smell him on you,” he growls roughly, syllables dragging like gravel from his throat as rage blazes behind his hazel eyes, overcome by possessive instinct. 

“Then get rid of it,” you breathe, heat flushing your skin as you gaze up at your mate, hands seeking to intertwine with his own. A groan breaks from his chest, a sigh of relief at the solution, and then he’s gripping your hips with his hands, raising them from the mattress so you’ll be able to feel every inch deeper as he pulls out then pushes all the way back in. You gasp at the sensation, hands grappling for him, desperate to pull him close to your body, to have his mouth over your own, his teeth grazing and nipping at your skin, rough palms thumbing across your breasts, brushing over your sides before digging his fingers in to hold you still. 

“Cassian…” you murmur pleadingly, head tilted back into the pillow allowing his mouth to seal over your throat as his rhythm picks up, firm and thorough. “Cassian…Cassian…Cass—” His name repeats on your tongue, cutting off abruptly as he pulls away to allow space for his hand to slip between your bodies, thumb settling just above your clit. Your breath catches, and you look at him imploringly, begging him to start there too, to stimulate that sensitive part that’ll have you fluttering around him. 

He watches you with an arousing intensity as he allows the pad of his thumb to settle fully over your clit, hips pressed tight to your own, close enough you know you’ll be able to feel him in your stomach should you lay your hand over your abdomen. Breath pants from your parted lips, feeling hot all over, slick dripping down into the sheets and you gasp as he begins gently oscillating his thumb, swiping across that part slowly, building up the pleasure in a way he knows will benefit you. 

Your fingers dig into the sheets as your breathing becomes heavier, head tipping to the side, content to let him work his pleasure into your body—and he does. With the way you’ve relaxed into his bed, Cassian feels his own tension begin to drain away, able to focus more on the pressure he’s applying to you, gently dragging his hips back to slowly roll back in, targeting a spot that has your eyes squeezing shut, lips parting on a silent moan. Gods, he needs more of this. Needs more time to spend with you, to lay his tongue across every part of you so he can recall your taste, to have you seated on his mouth while he pulls you apart repeatedly for hours at a time, have you riding him, or bent over some piece of furniture, or with your legs pushed back so they fold over his shoulders while he’s on top of you. 

Cassian growls lowly, and his thumb presses ever so slightly harder over your clit, circles growing tighter, meaner, as his pace increases, finding one you like. You can feel the heat building in your body and both of you know neither of you will last much longer. 

“Cassian,” you cry out softly, “Cass, please…” 

He can’t find it in himself to hold back when you ask like that, and he submits to your request. The angle changes, putting his weight behind each thrust as his cock rubs against those intimate parts of you deliberately and your head tips back, baring your throat. His mouth seals roughly over the intimate expanse, teeth biting down as you feel as the peak hits you. 

You gasp breathlessly, gripping onto him tight as the orgasm breaks across your skin, hips bucking to meet his own, thighs falling apart to allow him more access, sensitivity heightened as release washes through you. Cassian’s mind fractures a little as he feels the familiar flutter of your cunt as you squeeze him, and he spills inside of you, pounding you into his bed as he submerges himself in the heady scent of your arousal, thick and full from the height of your pleasure. Muscles spasm in your thighs from the overwhelming intensity and you’re completely at his mercy as he fucks you through the orgasm, able to do nothing but accept the pleasure as it’s wrought on your body. 

It takes a while for the high to fade, but once it’s subsided the two of you remain practically glued together on the bed, skin flushed hotly as you bask in the aftermath. 

“Happy, now?” You ask mildly, running your fingers through his hair. A faint smile curves his mouth, affection prominent in his eyes as he gazes at you. “Overwhelmingly,” he murmurs in reply, “you?” You smile, nodding gently, nestling into the heat of his body, enjoying the simple intimacy of having bare skin on bare skin. 

He chuckles faintly, arms wrapping around your body, banding over your waist and sliding beneath your ribs to press you into his chest carefully, nosing at the crown of your head, inhaling your scent that eases tension in his body. 

“Maybe coming to Illyria isn’t such a bad idea,” you murmur over his hot skin, fingertips pressing softly to his chest. Cassian snorts lightly, peering down at you affectionately, “you just enjoy seeing me riled up,” he accuses fondly. 

“When it ends like this, I can’t help myself,” you respond with a smile, palm flattening against his chest. His gaze softens, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. “Greedy,” he murmurs, though you can feel the way his heart beat quickens with contentment beneath your fingertips, and a smile plays on your mouth as your lids flutter shut, fatigue taking over as you settle into his heat. 

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[hotheadedhero]

Threshold

AN: Think I still got Rise Raph deep-rooted in the brain, especially his savage mode, soooooo enjoy the result of my obsession :3

Raphael x Reader

Warnings: violence, couple of bad words, kinda angsty (are you surprised?), savage Raph being protective <3

Dark. Pitch black. Quiet.

When did it get so dark?

The last thing Raph remembers is-

Crud. His head is pounding. He pulls himself up from the strangely cold floor and rises lethargically only to cause further incursion against a ceiling. Ow. One hand nurses the top of his head as the other feels around. He’s inside some kind of box, smooth all around and cold - must be a metal. How did he get in here? He was… he was out. Somewhere. That’s it, he was out with… with… with you! Yeah, date night, that was it. Then, something happened. Damn it. He can’t concentrate with this drumming in his skull. Him and you. Out together. Then… then? 

Shit!

His shoulder suddenly barrels into the side, and a second time but no budge. He remembers now: the two of you were making your way back from an anniversary date when a group got the jump on you. They must have knocked him over the head and trapped him in here whilst he was unconscious. That means they have you. No. Not on his watch. Not as long as he’s got breath in his lungs.

Surveying his circumstances, he realises just how serious these guys are about keeping him at bay. No windows, not even a keyhole for light to pass through, nothing but darkness. This box also appears to block out a decent amount of sound. Just him and the crackle of his breathing as it comes in and out in shorter successions. His palms stroke over the cold, metal walls before he punches one. Then, again. He slams his fists in the same place over and over in the hopes of creating a weak spot. 

Nothing.

His annoyance and dread only grow. Just what is this thing made of? No. No time to speculate. It doesn’t matter how sturdy this entrapment is. What matters is finding a way to break it. Whoever has done this is going to pay sorely. Raphael is protective of everyone he cares about but when it comes to you, he feels a bit more passionate; decisively out for blood. A concerning revelation he hadn’t the cause to encounter until now but he won’t worry about that now. He needs to make sure you're not hurt. He needs to get out.

Once again, his hands ball up and he punches every spot he can feel. He's not going to give up. He'll keep going until his knuckles bleed if he has to. Every whack makes the metal ring in his ears. Every jab stings as bruises form on his fists. With every hit, an image of you flashes in his mind, scared of what danger you may be in. The interior lights up with the bright red of his ninpõ and he carries on. He has to protect you. There’s no way of contacting his brothers for their aid. He needs to get out.

Eventually, he comes to a stop. Raph gave it all his might and hasn't even made a scratch. The perpetual darkness and his stunted gasping pushes him closer to the edge. He falls to his knees, head spinning, his mind dizzy and disoriented. Right. That’s right. This cage is a complete seal, which means it's more than likely that there aren't any cracks for even oxygen to pass through. His air is finite and he's wasted it all on this futile attempt to break out. No. He needs to get OUT!

The large snapper cries out in frustration, only for his screams to bounce back at him with an even fiercer roar. You’re alone with the threat out there. He’s alone in here. He can feel himself slipping. The only assurance he has is himself and his self-assaulting shots of paranoia. Why can't he get out of this forsaken box?! No. No. Nonono! He needs to stay. He's not going to be much help if he ends up going berserk. Raphael’s teeth clench and he clasps onto his head desperately. It feels like his brain is splitting in two. Crap! Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it to-

On the outside, some tunnels down, you have your hands tied, held behind your back with little give. The ropes bite into your wrists as you twist and turn, trying to find some leverage to loosen them. Your surroundings are cold and unwelcoming, filled with the faint scent of metal and something else you can’t immediately place. It’s unpleasant but recognisable. The sewers. More specifically, New York sewers. That’s a relief in some respect, knowing that you’re still in familiar territory. You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus. Raph is out there, and you need to find a way to reach him. Your heart races at the thought of him being in pain or worse. You can't let that happen. You have to find a way to get to him, to tell him you're okay, to let him know that you're fighting too. Think. There must be a way to get out of this before those hoodlums come back. Everything around you is as bare as the ideas in your head, in that you have none. With a huff, you adjust back into a sitting position. Something pokes at you where thigh meets hip bone. Something sharp. A shuriken! You’re glad for your need to be ready for any given situation but wish you had opted to place it in your back pocket instead. The top half of your body swivels one way and you force your legs to turn the opposite. Your fingers twitch and stretch in desperation. With each movement, the ropes dig deeper into your skin, but you push through the pain. You suck in a sharp breath and twist yourself further. A nail scratches against the metal and then the tip of your fingers. You frantically stroke towards yourself until it’s released from the captive pocket and clanks onto the ground. There’s no time to get breath back, however. You quickly stumble on an axis and clasp onto the star, wasting not another second as you delicately rub it back and forth against the ropes. The fibres begin to fray, and you can feel the bindings loosening. Hope surges within you, igniting a fire in your belly. You just need a little more time.

Just as you’re about to free your wrists, two figures, masked and menacing, step inside the concave structure of grey brick and stone, their eyes glinting with malice as they size you up. You do the same, noting the slightly inhuman shapes of them. They must be Yokai of some description if you had to guess. Do the turtles have beef with any Yokai? You don’t recall.

"Well, well, look who decided to wake up," one of them sneers, stepping closer.

You swallow hard, adrenaline coursing through your veins. "Where's Raph?" you demand, your voice steadier than you feel. “What do you want with us?”

The other figure kneels down to your level and chuckles darkly, “Our only interest is that big pet of yours. He’s got a pretty price on his head for the battle nexus and we intend to collect.”

The battle nexus: a major blood sport attraction that used to take place in the hidden city back when Big Mama was running shop. An event that you thought to be deceased many years ago. You suppose it’s only natural that someone would eventually want to resurrect it for their own nefarious desires. What better way to do that than with a behemoth turtle who showcases great strength? If their only priority is Raphael then what’s the point in keeping you around? You’re glad they’ve kept you alive but they could have just as easily left you behind. You’re almost afraid to ask but you need to maintain conversation whilst subtly working on your restraints.

“Why keep me around then?”

“Leverage,” the one in front of you states simply and you can feel the smirk in his voice. “Our guess is that he’ll be more agreeable if he doesn’t want you getting hurt.”

The two laugh and you frown. A sense of dread swirls in your stomach. Sickos. Taking advantage of someone’s love and care just to torture the life of another. Each cackle from their hidden lips only feeds into your desperation that much more. It takes another moment and then, finally, your shoulders can relax and you take a calming breath. You join in their laughter, rising in volume as they quieten. When they silence completely, you do the same with a long, melodic sigh.

“You made just one teeny tiny miscalculation.” Suddenly, your arms land at your sides and you fall back, bringing your feet up to kick the first tyrant in the face. “Dating one of the Mad Dogs means picking up a few tricks!”

With one down, you push yourself forward onto your feet, quickly tossing the throwing star in the other guy’s direction. It catches him on the leg and he howls in pain, falling to one of his knees. That works for you. You see your opening and take it, running as fast as you can down the long tunnel. With determination fueling your every step, you run, ready to face whatever awaits you, knowing that the moment you find Raph, you’ll both be able to get out of this.

"Raph!" you shout, desperate for him to hear you. "I’m here! I’m coming!"

The sound of something scraping against metal echoes through the sewer hall, and you can only assume that it has to do with him. Running on that theory, you sprint in the direction the sound came from, bounding past a couple of goons and bringing you to a large junction where four tunnels meet. In the centre of this junction is a large metal cage and it cries from something inside trying to get out. He’s in there. This is it! 

You run past five or six more masked figures to get to the box. Maybe you should have thought this through better. Yet again, they won’t be a problem if you can figure out how to open this thing; a switch, a lever, anything! But there’s nothing. In a last-ditch effort, you pick up the first thing at your disposal - a broken pipe - and whack it against one of the corners. The hit reverberates and sends a shockwave through your bones, making you drop the pipe. How are you supposed to get this blasted cage open?!

You reach for the rusted tube of metal again but a set of arms snake around you and lift you from the ground, tearing a scream from your lungs. Freedom was so sweet, yet so short. You shout hysterically for your Raphael, hoping with all your breath that it’ll reach him, that it’ll give him the strength to breach him of his capture. 

"Sorry to burst your bubble,” one of the crooks from before laughs, although breathless from his run here, “but that box has been infused with mystic energy! It would take a miracle to-"

SCHREEE-EEEECH!!!

A piercing shriek cuts through the open air and everyone halts. Bangs like thunder trail after, followed by another loud, ear-splitting scrape of metal. All eyes slowly glance over to the box where a couple of large, dark-green spikes are poking out from the side, having cut through. They disappear back inside and are soon replaced with two hands that proceed to push the metal away. You smile victoriously. You knew your big lug would find a way to break out. That spiky shell is sharper than he gives himself credit for. You attempt to run forward and reunite with him but this damn bastard won’t let go of you.

Raph erupts from the confines of the metal box, hunched over and huffing with a gravelliness that makes the hairs on your neck stand up. The atmosphere shifts like a storm brewing on the horizon. He stands tall and intimidating, the dim light casts shadows over his hulking figure, muscles coiled like springs ready to unleash chaos. The moment he spots you, a deep growl rumbles from deep within his chest, resonating with an anger that has been building in the darkness.

Still, no one has attempted a move, no one brave enough to do so, but one is eager to see this standstill put to an end. “Don’t just stand there! Attack!”

The crooks scramble, thrusting their weapons in his direction and he responds with a guttural battle cry, lunging at the nearest bandit - a hulking brute who barely has time to raise his weapon before Raph’s fist connects with his jaw. The impact is followed by a nasty crack and the crook is sent sprawling backwards into a wall before slumping to the ground like a ragdoll. This beast - your boyfriend - doesn’t stop there, moving with an agility that almost seems unnatural. He pounces forward with a speed that belies his size, taking out more assailants one by one and without restraint. Each attempt on his life is met with devastating retaliation and another nameless body on the ground.

Heart racing, you stand helplessly caught in the grip of the larger thug who has yet to release you. You can only watch in awe and horror as the dark side of your boyfriend further emerges like some fiery reincarnation. It’s as if he’s become something other than himself, a creature of pure rage, driven by a rudimentary wrath that eclipses the calculated fighter you know. Raph’s movements are fierce, but there’s something primal about them, a wildness that feels almost foreign. It’s as if he’s been overtaken by something deeper, something instinctual that drives him to protect.

When there are none left to fight, you call out, “Raph!” your voice breaking through the chaos.

He stalls, sits on pause for just a moment, and his head cranes to the side to face you. That’s when you see it, that’s when it makes sense; his eyes. They hold no shine, nor do they ignite with relief upon realising your presence. Clouded over, ghost white, they are completely and utterly devoid of your Raphael. You think you’ve grounded him, even slightly, but the sound of your voice and your helpless form only torches his fury further.

Those blank eyes stare just to your left and at the thug still holding you. You feel his entire body stutter, hear the gulp in his throat, and a whimper just before he lets go. He runs off with a trip and gets away as fast as he can, being the only one who has managed to flee the area unscathed. You’re weirdly glad for that. In a morbid kind of way, he can hopefully warn others not to ever mess with you guys again.

You gradually tempt yourself to look back at your hulking goliath of a boyfriend. You’ve heard about Raph’s “savage mode” but you’ve never seen it yourself. There’s never been an instance in which it could happen. From the moment you two have been together, you’ve practically been tied at the hip. You don’t want to fear him of all people but you recount stories of this beastly persona, how even his own family have not been entirely safe in the midst of his presence. There’s no telling if you’re in danger right now.

He makes his way towards you and it’s as though you’ve been turned to stone. Worst-case scenarios flood your better judgment to the point that you can’t bear to look. Remaining dead still, you listen closely to his movements, trying to ignore the pounding of your heart in your ears. It sounds like he’s right in front of you and then… behind you? Slowly, you take a peak and turn. He stares off where that last thug had run off, seemingly chalking up whether he should chase after or not. If you had to guess. He appears to decide against it and circles you again. There’s been no move to actively acknowledge you, which you hope is a good sign.

“Raph?” With no idea of what’s going on inside his head, all you can think to say is his name.

He huffs and makes a glance at you, only to return his attention to the room. A strong arm is held out in front of you as he breathes gruffly. His head jerks side to side in case there are any more threats to vanquish but it’s clear to you that they’re all beat. You need to find a way to calm him down so that you two can get out of here. Pronto. He backs up closer to you and lowers himself more. Before you can wonder what he’s doing, he suddenly grabs you and pulls you into his chest, holding you there with one arm.

“Whoa, whoa, easy there, big guy. It’s okay. You got them all.”

Your efforts to lull his antsy behaviour are for nothing. He huffs from his nostrils down at you again and runs off. His grasp on you is secure, strong, and safe like any other instance you’re wrapped up in green muscle. You thank whatever higher forces that even this feral side won’t hurt you but you still need to get your Raph back before anything goes out of control again. You imagine he must be taking you somewhere safe, where is what you’re concerned about. There’s no telling who you may cross paths with and who could get hurt while he’s like this. Granted, the sewers aren’t regularly populated but it would just be your luck if there were workers down here at this time or something.

You keep trying to usher him to calm down but he continues on his quest, running through the maze of sewers. There’s no getting through to him. He only skids to a stop when something clinks around the corner and gets down on all fours minus the arm holding you. The source of the scuffle is nothing more than a group of mice looking for a good meal. Despite the lack of threat, he’s still on edge, body tense and rigid around you. You try to wiggle free of his arm and reach out for his cheek, softly petting the rough skin.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” you calmly usher. “We’re okay.”

He takes in a shuddery breath and shakes his head. There’s a battle in his mind, an instance in which he wavers. Much is clear when his hold loosens. You scramble against the floor and onto your feet, taking a hold of his face before he can straighten himself out or blow up again. There’s a combative roll of his vocals, sounding shot, and his head leans down into your hands. Hunched over like this, he almost looks like a big, wounded dog in need of comfort.

“Raph… keep safe,” he grunts quietly.

Those blank eyes flicker up, a spark of recognition igniting behind them. It’s like watching a storm cloud begin to part, revealing the sun beyond. He’s in there. He’s coming out. Little by little, your soft-hearted giant is trying to return. You smile down at him, hopeful, and softly pull him closer. As you hold him against your chest, you plant a soft kiss on the top of his head. He relaxes into it and gingerly wraps his arms around you.

“I am safe,” you whisper, stroking a hand over his head. “You always keep me safe.”

He hums back lowly. You both stay like this for a moment; the security of his hold around your waist, your fingers delicately caressing his head. You don’t mind how long it takes for him to fully relax. You’ll take all the time in the world if you have to. Though time seems to be on your side when he suddenly gasps loudly. His arms go taut and you hold onto his head, paving a hand over the top of his shell.

“Hey, heyheyhey! It’s okay, I gotcha,” you reassure. “Just breathe.”

His breathing is ragged, each inhale shaky as he processes all of the chaos that unfolded. Raphael can’t piece together what happened. He knows what happened to him to get to where he is right now but he doesn’t know the extent of what he’s done. The echoes of his own growls and the sounds of battle play back in his mind but without any cohesiveness. It’s so terrifyingly frustrating. It’s there and it isn’t. He quickly looks up at you, eyes frantically darting around, then back on you in search of any injuries.

“Where- What happened to- I didn’t-” He swallows hard and trembles against you. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you answer quickly, “you didn’t. You could never.”

You hold onto his face, grounding him as best as you can. The fear still lingers. His chest is still collapsing under every half-breath and stuttered gasp. He can’t bear the thought of hurting you. Even if it isn’t entirely him, he would never- could never forgive himself for such a thing. As he continues to crumble, you know it’s going to take more than words to calm him down.

“Raph, look at me,” you say softly, urging him to focus on you. “I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me. I promise.” You kiss his forehead and speak into the skin. “Just breathe, okay? In and out. Just like we practised.”

He nods, albeit slowly, and tries to mirror your breathing. His head hangs low whilst he tries to collect himself. You watch as his body rises and falls, your heart aching more with every pained whimper croaking in his throat. His vulnerability is something you’ve rarely witnessed, reserved for the few times that he’s had night terrors. 

Gradually, the frantic energy starts to dissipate. He leans into you, resting his forehead against yours as he tries to regain his composure. You can feel the tension in his muscles begin to ease. His eyes slowly open and he expects to be faced with distress but all he finds is a gentle, sad smile. He only wishes he had the strength to give you one in return. At least he’s gotten a grip on himself now. His nerves are shot but he’s steady again. That’s the main thing.

“There we go. I’m so proud of you.” You softly peck the space between his eyes and smile more assuringly. “Let’s go home now, okay?”

Coming to a slow stand, he breathes out and nods. “Yeah… yeah. Let’s go home.”

[stereksimp]

Time travel fix it, but Stiles sends Derek back with the last of his magic as he dies.

*Stiles lays, bleeding out in his arms, and as he coughs up blood, he rasps out*

Stiles: Fix it, Der....please

*There is a bright flash of blue light blinds him as Stiles takes his last breath, and a buzzing grows in his ears before they pop. When he can see again, he is crouched in front of Laura's half a body.*

Derek: What....what's happening. STILES!!!!

*He runs to Stiles' house. Thankfully, the Sheriff is not home, but the jeep is there. He listens for a bit to calm down, but what he hears confuses him more.*

Stiles: Oh my god. Scott was bitten by a werewolf. Werewolves are real. Oh god, how do I tell him.

*Derek jumps up to his window and smoothly slips inside.*

Derek: Stiles I need your help.

*Stiles yelps and flails falling out of his chair. Somehow, managing to land upside down. From his position on his floor he looks up at Derek.*

Stiles: What the hell are you doing in my room? *He scrambles to get up pointing at Derek.* How do you know my name? Nevermind sheriff's kid of course you know my name. But why are you here? Wait you said you need my help. Why do you need my help? Holy shit you're Derek Hale! When did you come back to Beacon Hills?

Derek: I think I traveled back in time.

*Stiles stalls out for a second with his mouth hanging open.*

Stiles: *eyes widening* How do you know?

Derek: Well you just said Scott was bitten by a werewolf and that happened like 3 years ago for me.

Stiles: You know about werewolves. You're a werewolf aren't you. Did you bite Scott?

Derek: Yes, yes, no, but I do know who bit him.

*He smells excitement rolling off Stiles and he can see a million questions forming before his smile drops.*

Stiles: Were your whole family 'wolves?

Derek: *not knowing where this was going and mildly confused* yes.

*Stiles immediatly runs over and pulls him into a big hug. He stands stock still unsure what to do.*

Stiles: *with his face buried in his chest* I am so sorry.

Derek: What why are you sorry?

*Stiles pulls away and begins pacing.*

Stiles: Because your whole family burned alive and I always thought that the investigation was suspiciously closed fast so I stole the case file a few years ago and I figured out that your family was targeted but I could never figure out why or who called the hit. Your whole family being werewolves gives me the why. People are cruel to people that are different and I can't see that being any different if you are not fully human. I mean since I figured out that Scott was bitten I have been doing research into werewolves for the last *He glances at the clock* 4 hours and I have found a lot of stuff which includes a few sites with chats about killing werewolves and the bigoted things that I read there kinda made me queasy.

Derek: Stiles breathe.

*Stiles takes a huge breath and looks over at Derek.*

Stiles: What do you need my help with?

Derek: I knew you were smart but damn.

*Derek proceeds to to tell him everything he knows

[kaylopolis]

Alastor's Shadow (18+) Chapter Three

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months sooner than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. Afterall, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plans brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down, but also challenge your grab for power… 

Tags: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut 

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

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Author note: Okay Hoteliers, this was my first attempt at some spice. I'm open to constructive criticism! I am a published author but spice is something I am new to and not confident in. Any suggestions are welcome :)

<3 Stay smutty.

Chapter Three - Care for a Drink?

Content warning: mentions of blood, mentions of abuse

You were late. 

“Not me! I have to go home and study!" Sir Pentious’ voice echoed through the foyer as you stepped in, nearly missing the first few drops of acid rain. 

You were at the Clocktower when the clouds rolled in and threatened to melt your skin off. Unclipping your Mary Jane’s, you took off down the street, doing your best to avoid the trash piling outside the Doomsday District. Out of breath and, with mere seconds to spare, you finally rolled up to the Hotel only to find that Charlie had started without you. 

Well, you did say one and it was now twenty minutes past. 

“Come on kid, it'll make you cool like me …the crackhead." Angel did not sound amused. 

You rounded the corner to find Angel and Sir Pentious reading from scripts and dressed in… Costumes? 

"The only cool thing here is to say no to drugs! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to not have sexual intercourse before marriage!" Sir Pentious chimed. 

You snorted into your hand at the sight of Sir Pentious in his sailor-like child costume, complete with large lollipop in hand. 

“Hey, Hair clip,” Angel frowned, clearly irritated with his current situation. 

You couldn’t blame him. If these were the exercises Charlie had in mind, you don’t know how long you would last either. 

Then he eyed your feet and your dress. “What the fuck happened to you?” 

“Huh! You made it!” Charlie jumped to her feet and slammed into you with a hug so powerful it knocked you backwards. 

“Ouch!” You rolled back on your heels, pushing your blisters into the hardwood flooring. 

“Oh, no! I’m so sorry! What’s wrong! I didn’t… I didn’t mean to hurt you. Did I hurt you?” Her eyes begin to fill with tears, her pupils growing big. 

Before you had a chance to deny vehemently, Vaggie cut in. “I think it’s her feet, babe.” 

She took a step back, giving everyone a view of your blistered toes. Your feet were normal - human shaped, that is - and although you had the same ashen complexion as Charlie, your limbs blackened at the ends, beginning at your elbows and knees. The dark fur hid the grime now encasing your toes, but not the blisters rubbed raw and bleeding red.

“Yeah, that doesn’t look so good, toots,” Angel frowned. 

It had to be the heels. Rosie was right, you did need new shoes. 

“It’s not that bad,” you waved them off, heading for the stools at the bar. 

“Your wincing,” Charlie motioned to you. “She’s wincing.” 

“Oh no! You are in pain,” Sir Pentious cried. 

“Guys, seriously. I don’t… Ah!” Angel scooped you up into his arms, carrying you to the stairs. 

You tried to protest but he interrupted you. “I got a first aid kit in my room. It’s not a big deal.” His voice was stern, his jaw set. You took this not as a rescue for yourself but a rescue for him. He needed an excuse to get away. 

“Wait! Wait!” Nifty sprinted around, taking a photo of the two of you before heading back for the couch. 

“What the fuck was that?” You asked Angel.

“Charlie put Nifty in charge of the Hotel’s Sinstagram,” the spider demon rolled his eyes. “Don’t look at it. It’s a clusterfuck of a whole lot of nothin’. Mostly bugs and shit she’s found around the joint.”

“Great,” you mumbled, letting the spider demon whisk you away. 

____________________________________________

“I seriously don’t know how you walk in shoes like that every day!” You motioned to his ridiculously high heeled boots. 

“Practice, toots. You don’t get as good as me by lyin’ on your back… Wait.” 

You laughed as you pulled your other sock on, careful not to ruin the bandages Angel oh-so delicately wrapped around your feet. For a Porn Star he sure knew his first aide. You knew it was because of Val, of course, but he didn’t know that you knew… 

Never in your years of working have you ever thought about the victim. At least not with sympathy. You enjoyed the chaos, you enjoyed the killing, you enjoyed the fear. Now, something in your chest was twisting itself at the thought of Val placing his hands on Angel. 

Angel was such a soft and adorable person, you couldn't fathom Val hurting…

Stop! 

You flinched, covering up the action with a cough. You got to your feet, testing their durability. “You, uh, wanna head back down?” 

His smile faded. “Nah, I’m gonna lay low for a bit.” Turning to the pig, he collected him in his arms, side glancing the pink phone laying on the bed. “I’m sure Charlie is just dyin’ to dress you up next.” 

You paused. “Okay.” That thing in your chest twisted again, rooting you in place before the door.

You sighed. 

Fuck. 

“I have to change before I head to the bar, but I have some lemon sweets in my room that I know Fat Nuggets would love if you wanna join me.” You ran your hand down the pig’s snout, earning a squeal from the little ball of squish. 

You could tell he was debating it by the look on his face, but wasn’t convinced. 

“And chocolate,” you sang.

That caught his attention. 

“Alright,” you helped him off the bed. “But only a piece, Fat Nuggets is watching his figure.” 

You laughed as you headed for the room next to his humble abode, pulling the door wide and gesturing to the couch for him to take a seat. 

“Wow, nice place ya’ got here,” he let the pig loose to sniff about the room. 

It was. Your room was almost double the size of Angel’s and included a small sitting area. Wonder why he got the short end of the stick? 

Then you wondered who else might have seen your room… perhaps without you knowing? You set a mental reminder to place some runes later - keep Alastor and his shadow out. Not that you had anything alarming in here. All the important stuff was kept in your personal Void. 

You grabbed the leftovers from the club you got stuck with and moved them to the coffee table. Grabbing a lemon square, you let Fat Nuggets crawl onto your lap as you sat cross-legged on the ground. The small creature squirmed in your lap till you finally handed him the sweet. 

Angel helped himself to your pile of chocolates - you hated chocolate, but didn’t want them to go to waste. Thankfully, he left his phone in his room. 

“You know,” you started, unsure of where you were going with this. “I’m new here, but sometimes new people observe things others might not notice - a third party perspective if you will.” 

“A-ha,” he eyes you suspiciously. 

“Sometimes they notice things others may be trying to hide…” You were hoping he would get the point and pick up where you were leading him.

“What are you tryin’ to say, Hair clip?” He ignores the chocolates completely, turning to you with irritation sprawled across his face. 

“Ugh,” you huff. “I’m sorry I’m not good at this stuff - feelings and trying to comfort others.” You clear your throat, resisting the urge to rub the back of your neck. “It seems like something is wrong and I was wondering if you wanted to talk about it?” You avoided eye contact, this was uncomfortable enough. 

“I’m fine,” he shot you down, tossing a chocolate into the air and catching it in his mouth. 

“I know what it’s like to come from a place of… neglect.” You continue anyway. “To be trapped in a situation you cannot control. To be a victim with no power, forced to do things you didn’t wanna do…” Your voice cracked. When had you started tearing up? “And when you try to speak up, to refuse to do something that would harm others…”

“Hey, hey,” Angel was on his knees before you, cupping your cheeks, soothing you with shushes. He smiled when you finally looked up at him. 

“You’re gonna ruin all your beautiful makeup, Hair clip.” 

You giggled into his hands, your heart warming just a bit. 

God, what was it about this Hotel that made you so emotional? 

“Look,” Angel huffed. “My boss has just been gettin’ on my nerves lately. He doesn’t like that I moved out. He’s pissed actually. Been blowing up my phone for days, but it’s nothing that I can’t handle.” He rubbed your cheek with his thumb. “I’m managing, I just need some time to work through some things ‘tis all. Alright, toots?” 

You knew it wasn’t alright. You’ve heard some pretty infamous stories of the moth demon - yet another reason you have steered clear of the Vees - but Angel was at a point that if you kept prodding, he’d most likely just flip you off and disappear for the rest of the day. Pushing him would be a step back and you needed to take a step forward. 

“Okay,” you pouted, wiping your face with your sleeves. God this dress needed to be thrown away.

“Now let’s get changed because I need a drink!” He pulls you to your feet before heading for your clothes. Pulling open your closet door he was shocked to find it empty. Your drawers were no better. 

“Seriously?” He waved to the black abyss. 

“I’ve been low on cash lately… but I just got paid and new clothes are on the way.” 

He held up a pair of black slacks. “Please tell me they’re from this century?” 

You ripped the pants from his hands. “I happen to like my clothes, okay.”

“Okay, grandma,” he shrugs. “One of these days, you gotta let me take you shopping. Your closet is an insult to closets.” 

“Ha, ha very funny.” You grab a blouse and head for the bathroom. 

“Do you even own a pair of sweatpants?” He asks through the door. 

“I have silk pajama bottoms?” 

He pauses. “Okay, actually impressed by that, but I think I’ve made my point.” 

“Whatever,” you emerge from the bathroom, shoving the gray blouse into your pants, giving you that hourglass figure. 

Actually, now that you had Angel’s attention maybe he could help with some of your wardrobe problems. Starting with your feet. 

“Do you know where I can get a new set of heels?”

��———————————————————————

“Hey, whiskers! Pour me something strong, daddy needs a drink!” Angel took the stool next to you. 

Husk huffed, rolling his eyes, the bar cat grabbed a random bottle and just started pouring. “Feeling better?” He asked you.

You nodded, twirling in circles on the barstool. You dangled your toes as you spun, smiling at the fact that your feet didn’t touch the ground. 

That was probably the one thing you got from Dad you didn’t mind - your height. You and your brothers were short as fuck, but mightier than you looked: fierce beings in tiny packages. Yet, despite the roughhousing between siblings, you were always obedient - Dad wouldn’t have it any other way. 

As for Mom? Well, you didn’t have one. You and your siblings never did. You didn’t know the story but then again you never asked. It didn’t seem like something you asked your father. He wasn’t the type to… share certain things with you. He wasn’t closed off, he just didn’t treat you like kids. Dad treated you like soldiers. He commanded and you obeyed. 

And at one point in time you were okay with it. Dad said jump, you said how high? Now… After everything that happened on Earth, you promised yourself you’d never let anyone tell you what to do again. 

“You wouldn’t happen to have a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon behind that bar of yours would you? It’s my favorite.” You beamed. 

“Wine?” Angel scoffs. “Come on toots, I thought you were a lot harder than that.” The spider demon downed half his drink before Husk had even finished pouring it. 

“Watch it!” Husk snaps. 

“I’m not a hard liquor kinda gal,” you shrugged, watching Husk wipe up the spilled alcohol. “I like to sip and enjoy.”

“Fuck that,” Angel scoffed, examining the new stain on his shirt. “Damn, this is my favorite top.” He grumbled, getting to his feet. “I’ll be back. I gotta spray it before it sets.” The spider demon made his way back upstairs. 

Husk waited till Angel was gone before he made your drink next. A glass of red wine in a metal red wine glass - how on the nose. Maybe your lipstick smear won't look as gross.

“I thought I’d give you a heads up, the Princess and her girlfriend went out shopping this morning and got ya’ a little something. Syrups and flavoring for the coffee machine. She’s gonna surprise you at breakfast. Just thought I’d let ya know. You don’t seem the kind who enjoys surprises,” he finishes pouring your glass. 

You sniffed before you tasted, letting the smell of currants and oak swim in your nostrils. It was smokier than you expected, but the tannins made your taste buds sing. 

God, you missed the wine from before Hell, before your entire world flipped on end… 

“Thanks, Husk.” 

He leans back against the counter behind the bar, a look of hesitancy on his face that said he wasn’t done talking yet. You sensed giving you a heads up about breakfast tomorrow wasn’t the reason why he asked to speak with you. 

“What?” You asked, after his silent gaze became uncomfortable. 

“Look. No one gives a shit what you did before you got down here. You’re down here, same as the rest of us, but you gotta watch what you say in… mixed company.” 

“What does that mean?” You scrunched your nose in confusion. 

“This mornin’, at breakfast.” 

He was referring to your small nugget of honesty at the table - your slip of suggested murderer status topside. He was referring to Alastor. 

Rosie told you the stories - things only she knew about the Radio Demon. He was a serial killer turned cannibal during his days amongst the living - wasn’t caught either. He died in some sort of hunting accident - explains the deer form. After his death, he rose to power faster than anyone had ever seen, took down some big important Overlords too, projecting their screams over his radio broadcasts. 

God, what a sight that would have been.

He showed up out the blue a few weeks ago after disappearing for seven years. Uprooted Husk and Nifty and planted them at the Hotel - he owned their souls, they had to obey. 

He had business with the Princess, but no one knew what - mere rumors, but nothing good. Whatever it was, you needed to find out. 

If his plans got in the way of yours, you were going to need to do something. You didn’t know what it was you were going to do, but eliminating him wasn’t going to be simple. 

“So?” You took a longer sip, needing the alcohol for yet another emotional conversation. 

“You’re not stupid kid.” He crosses his arms over his chest, ignoring the glass of whiskey before him. That’s how you knew he was serious. 

“Look,” you took the stem of the metal cup between your first two fingers and twirled it about. The glass danced on the edge of its base, twirling like a ballerina on a stage. Husk watched the movement, eyeing the liquid as it spun. “This place is about redemption, correct? So, shouldn’t I be a little honest about my sins, that way I can atone for what I’ve done?” 

His eyes were glued to the glass as he responded, “There’s a difference between honesty and painting a target on your back.” 

“You mean painting a target on my back in front of him,” you corrected. 

He finally met your eyeline, “He’s dangerous, kid…”

You hold up a hand, interrupting him, “You can save your lecture, Husk. I already got it from Rosie this morning.”

His eyes grow a few sizes. “Rosie? The Overlord?” 

“No, Rosie the tailor. It seems the Radio Demon and I have similar tastes in fashion.” Another sip - no, a gulp. The glass was practically empty already. You continued your twirl. 

So much for slowly enjoying it…

Husk drained his glass, “I’m not gonna bullshit you, kid.” He pours himself another. “He asked me to keep an eye on you.”

You freeze, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end. “What?” You bite. 

“I suspect it’s not because he’s concerned for your well-being, either.” The cat demon adds. 

So, Alastor the Overlord had his suspicions - going not only to Rosie but Husk as well. It appears poking and prodding during his battle with Sir Pentious was enough to raise his alarms. You were going to have to be very careful from here on out. Alastor was a ticking time bomb without a timer and you were going to have to do something to prevent him from exploding. 

Perhaps you should do something to throw him off. Make yourself appear weaker than he expects. Get into a fight which you lose on purpose to a demon far weaker than yourself. Would that be enough or would he know Husk had warned you? Would he expect you to do something to completely negate his suspicions only to make him look at you even more closely? 

Fuck - you didn’t know what to do. 

“So, he didn’t say why,” you finished the glass, gritting your teeth in frustration. 

Husk laughs. “He doesn’t explain anything to me and he ain’t about to start.” 

Great, so Rosie was going to be your only insight into the red demon. 

Unless… 

Unless, you befriended him yourself. Now that would really throw him for a loop.

“Hey, where did you learn to do that with the glass…?” Husk begins to ask but is interrupted. 

“Get your aggressively average body OFF OF ME!” Sir Pentious’ scream echoes throughout the foyer. 

You and Husk fly to the library to find Angel wrestling the snake demon to the ground. Charlie and Vaggie followed soon after. 

“What’s going on?” Charlie asks, concern flitting between the two demons. 

“This little bitch is a traitor!” Angel moves aside a pile of books to reveal a video camera.

Vox.

Sir Pentious flies into a panic, summoning the media demon on his watch, demanding evacuation.

Pathetic honestly. You’re not sure you would have responded any better to the snake demon than Vox had. Not that you wanted to agree on anything with the leader of the Vees, you detested the sore excuse for an Overlord and wanted nothing to do with him.

Yes, you fixed his bowtie earlier today, but he looked so… pathetic standing in that alleyway. It actually kind of irritated you now that you think of it. A demon of that caliber throwing tantrums in a random back alley? Come on man, get yourself together.  

Vaggie pulls out her spear, prepared to skewer the snake, before Charlie interrupts. “It starts with sorry…”

Ah, fucking kill me. Little Ms. Bleeding Heart everyone. 

As you watched the events unfold, you felt static zip down your spine. Almost as if you were being watched. 

You spun and searched the shadows but there was no one there. Wait, no one you could see. Rosie told you of Alastor’s shadow, how it could hide him in darkness, how it could detach from his form and do his bidding elsewhere. You were going to have to take that into account when sneaking out at night - double check every shadow and second guess every dark corner. 

“Good first day! Let’s get some rest.” Charlie guided him back to his room. 

You waited until the hallways were empty before taking a step towards the abandoned watch. 

“Would you like to do the honors or shall I?” You ask the darkness. 

There’s a pop of static before the Overlord melts from the floor, scooping up the electronic device. He crushes it beneath his fingers in a burst of electricity. You watch as Vox’s image blurs before dying. 

Alastor drops the plastic and metal to the floor before addressing you. “You knew I was there,” he purrs, his radio a silent static, his back to you. 

“Saw the shadows move,” you answer coolly. Technically a lie, but you weren’t about to tell him that you could feel his presence before he entered a room, that you could feel his shadow follow you. 

Alastor spun, his eyes narrowing on your form, kicking the butterflies in your stomach into a flurry. God, his eyes. They glowed red, like crystals in a fire. A fire that ignited something foreign within you.

The double doors behind you slammed shut causing you to jump.

And then they locked. 

You were alone, alone, and trapped with the Radio Demon and one of Hell’s finest Overlords. 

He takes a step towards you, his microphone slipping into the Void as his eyes, half-lidded, slowly slide over your form. The gesture, so simple, had you frozen in place where you stood. His pupils constricted, his smile curling, you watched as Alastor transformed into the predator he was born to be. Like a prey before its kill, he honed in on you, identifying you as prey.

You pull your hands behind your back, threading your fingers so he doesn’t see them shake so he can’t see just how much power his gaze alone had over you.

He takes another step, still ten feet away yet so, so close. 

You take an imperceptibly small step back.

Why are you so nervous right now? It’s just the Radio Demon. This man is not a threat. He’s just a Human Sinner. 

He takes another. 

Shit. 

His smile deepens, sensing the hesitation, the worry, the anxiety building in your chest. 

Was it getting harder to breathe in here? 

You force your lips into a thin line, force your body to stand ramrod straight. You will not back down. Overlord or not, you will not let him win this game of intimidation. You were a fucking god down here in Hell. The Radio Demon didn’t know it, couldn’t know it, your entire plan rode on him never knowing it, so why was every instinct in your body screaming at you to not back down? To not play the powerless victim you were supposed to be?

Alastor thought you a mouse and he a cat, but he was oh-so wrong. You were a fucking lion. You were an…

In one breath the Radio Demon closes the distance, stopping a foot away from you, your toes barely brushing his shoes. The demon was close enough that you could smell the rye on his breath; the liquor washed over you and made your toes curl. Of course, he drank something so sophisticated. Not vodka; not rum; but a dark liquor that burned on the way down. Like the fire in your veins.

He wasn’t drunk, perhaps just a nightcap? He didn’t seem like the type who ever got drunk. Getting drunk would leave one vulnerable and would leave one weak. Alastor would never allow that. He cared too much for his appearance. 

You go very very still as he reaches a hand out to you, his eyes suddenly captivated with your cheek. The tip of his claw tickles your skin, drawing a gasp from your lips, sucking the breath from your lungs and kicking your heart into a beat so loud you couldn’t hear anything else but its pounding in your ears. 

Crimson fire ignites behind Alastor’s eyes, his smile curling at the tips as his hand dances to a stray strand of hair. Shivers explode down your spine as he tucks it behind your ear, pausing to appreciate your neck. His eyes hone in on your jugular, almost as if he could see the blood rushing through your veins, almost as if he could taste it.  

The demon licks his lips drawing your eyes to his perfectly shaped mouth, to the sharp teeth behind it. What would it feel like to have those razor-sharp canines sink into your flesh? To allow Alastor a taste of the blood pumping through your veins?

A moment of clarity suddenly hit you at the sudden realization of just how much control you had lost. To allow Alastor to taste you? What were you doing? 

Swat his hand away. Bite his head off. Stab him in the gut. Eviscerate him where he stands. Kill...

The demon pulls you away from your thoughts as his finger moves south to your collarbone, eliciting a blush across your cheeks and igniting a warmth in your belly that traveled down, pooling between your legs. 

There it was again, that scent wafting through the room. The same scent you smelled off of Vox in the alley. You had never smelled something so sweet from a demon before - like warm vanilla heating on a stove. Yet now, it was coming from you.  

Something at the periphery of your power shifts. Like a second presence has joined yours, you try to think but your mind grows numb as Alastor’s dances across your collarbone. Delicately, so as not to draw blood, he follows it to the dip at the base of your neck. You swallow dryly and watch as Alastor’s eyes follow your throat’s bob. 

The demon pauses, a question swimming behind his eyes before he slowly - oh-so painfully slowly - wraps his hand around your throat. 

God-be-damned, you have never had another creature’s hand at your throat, and God-be-damned if you didn’t enjoy it. 

The demon squeezed, not enough to cut off your air supply, but just enough to send your mind spinning. A small moan escapes your lips. Alastor’s eyes shot to yours, a look of surprise filled them before they darkened. His smile shifted into that of a lopsided grin, a smirk of satisfaction. 

And then you feel it. 

You shove Alastor away from you, your mind sobering at the realization of what the Radio Demon was trying to do. 

You both pause for a moment, trying to catch your breath, before the demon takes a bow. “Goodnight, Ms. Thestral.” The shadows swallow him whole. 

You wait until you can't feel his presence anymore before you bang your head against the wall and scream. “Fuck!” 

It was all a big FUCKING distraction! He was prodding you to read your soul - to read your power. Just like you had tried to do that day he battled Sir Pentious. And you had caught him. He didn’t get far, but your reaction confirmed everything for him. 

He knew you had power. 

He knew you were a threat. 

And he knew you wouldn’t back down easily. 

You were fucked.

Link to Chapter Four

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

[piperlivingdeliberately]

Blushing, Crushing, and Totally F*cked!

Here’s the second part!! <3

Summary: We all know and love loser!Hazel, so this is just my take on top of the dozens of other wonderful little headcanons/blurbs about her being nervous around the reader <3 Reader is a cheerleader because I'm a slut for cool girl/weird little freak dynamic.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: fem reader (she/her pronouns used), suggestive themes/thoughts (no smut but mentions of smut), violence, blood, swearing, etc. 18+

Hazel had had a crush on you from afar for years, but she never expected it to be any more than that. You were a beautiful, popular girl who she stole glances at in the hallways. Now, however, you were standing across from her in the gym, cheering on PJ and Josie as they jabbed at each other in the name of feminism.

Hazel winced to herself when PJ had you step into the circle to spar with Sylvie after her own fight. She couldn't bear the thought of your precious face being in any pain. Yet when the whistle was blown, she felt her jaw drop in surprise at your quick, unforgiving punches and skilled dodges. Her stomach did flips when you finally let Sylvie get a hit in and your perfect grin was stained with crimson.

After the fight, you returned to your spot on the outside of the circle, but this time standing next to her.

"Nice job," she said to you, hesitant to look directly at you for fear of staring.

"Thanks, Hazel." You wiped the blood from your lips as you flashed her a friendly smile. Hazel's fears of being distracted were confirmed as she watched your mouth move again. "I think they're talking to you."

She jerked her head to face the others, blush warming her cheeks as she met Isabel in the center of the ring. They circled each other reluctantly, both too sweet to swing the first punch. Hazel began to survey her opponent, thinking about the best move to make, but her eyes were pulled away as she saw you standing on the outer ring. You gave her a quick nod of encouragement and another smile, pulling her focus away enough to allow Isabel ample time to crack Hazel square in the nose.

The fight turned out to be well-matched following Hazel's temporary lapse in focus. The pair returned to their places, smiling at the cheers around them after their polite finishing handshake. Hazel stared at her feet, shy from all the praise until your shoulder bumped hers.

"That was sick," you said. She thanked you, shaking her head modestly which caused her nose to begin bleeding again.

"Shit." She pinched her nostrils and threw her head back to face the ceiling.

"Whoa, whoa, no," you warned her. "You have to tip your head forward to stop the bleeding. Here." You gripped her hair gently and guided her to face downward, letting the excess blood drip onto the gym floor. Hazel wasn't sure if her lightheadedness was caused by the hemorrhaging or the soft circles drawn by your thumb on the back of her head.

"Feel better?" you asked in earnest.

"Yeah," she lied, bravely meeting your eyes as she wiped the last of the dried blood. "Definitely. Thank you."

"Of course," you replied, deciding maybe it was finally time to remove your hand from her hair. Hazel shrank in disappointment at the lack of contact and was relieved to hear that the club was dismissed. She rushed out of the gymnasium toward her car. She had a long night of trying to forget how good your perfume smelled ahead of her.

...

Hazel thought she might have been dreaming when she walked into Mr. G's class and saw your hand waving her over to sit beside you. She looked around, searching for someone wearing a football uniform or a set of high heels who you might have been waving to instead. When you locked eyes with her again, flashing that knee-weakening smile, she finally walked to you.

"Good morning!" you said brightly as she sat.

"Hi," she breathed nervously, almost sounding like she was asking a question. She kept her eyes glued to Mr. G and the magazine he was reading, afraid that if she looked at you she would break whatever spell had caused this moment.

"I like your vest." She almost didn't hear you, assuming you had been talking to someone else.

"Me?" she asked, finally facing you.

You giggled at her uncertainty. "Yes, you." Your thumb plucked the fabric from her shoulder for a moment before you smoothed it back down against the white shirt she wore underneath it. "It looks good on you."

"Oh. Oh, um--" she stuttered, trying to look anywhere but your eyes that stared at her with unfaltering intensity. "Thank you. I like your skirt."

"Thanks! Actually," Hazel felt her breath catch in her throat when you interrupted yourself to raise the skirt's already short hem to your upper thigh. "It's a skort! It has shorts built in!" She found your excitement adorable and couldn't help but laugh along with you until Mr. G spoke up.

Class droned on for a painful ten minutes before the bell rang. You waved goodbye to Hazel as you caught up with Isabel and Brittany, leaving her behind with PJ and Josie.

"What the hell was that?" PJ smacked the back of Hazel's head.

"Ow! What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you two eye-fucking each other for the first five minutes of class."

"What?" Hazel jolted out of her seat. "That didn't happen! She was just talking to me and I--"

"'Oh, that looks so good on you, Hazel! Look at my skort and how it perfectly drapes over my luscious thighs! Don't you just want to stick your hand between--'" PJ was cut off by Josie's frantic protests.

"What PJ means is that you were obviously flirting," she explained. "We just want to know when this all started."

"There isn't a this," Hazel retorted. "She's ridiculously gorgeous and probably getting banged by some jerk on the football team while I spend every waking hour trying not to stare at her like a stalker!"

"It's okay, relax." Josie tried to verbally soothe Hazel's now rapid breathing. "We'll think of something to help you. For now just--"

"Sorry!" Your voice and sudden reappearance made the three girls jump. "I forgot my bag." You scooped it up, waving goodbye to Hazel once more.

"Have-- have fun with your skort!" she shouted after you, thanking every higher power that you had already let the door close behind you and you most likely didn't hear her.

Hazel buried her face in her hands, groaning in defeat. "Oh, dude," Josie said. "You're totally fucked."

...

The fight club had never felt so far away for Hazel, so she let out a deep sigh of relief when she joined her friends in the gym. She mustered the courage to give you a shy wave when you walked in from the opposite entrance. Her face warmed with a smile when you excitedly returned the gesture. God, how could you be so sweet? She pondered this question until PJ called the meeting to order.

"Let's get this shit started, fuckers." The club's leader eyeballed everyone, sizing them up. "You!" she pointed at Hazel, who stiffened, praying that PJ wouldn't do what she thought she was about to do. "And... you!" PJ's finger drew a direct line to your face, which smiled politely as you met your quivering opponent.

"Go easy on me, please?" Hazel attempted a joke. She felt lighter than air when she heard you laugh it.

"Don't worry," you said. "I wouldn't want to mess up your pretty face."

Hazel's jaw dropped to the floor, making it all the more painful when your fist connected with her chin. She stumbled backward, eyes raking over your figure as she pretended to plan her attack. She watched as your foot stepped forward, properly anticipating your second punch. She dodged your hand, using her own to grip your shoulders and send both of you to the ground.

She almost forgot that you were supposed to be fighting when she saw you on the floor. Your waist caged between her legs, you wriggled your arms in a feeble attempt to escape. Your hair was sprawled around your head, an angel halo that framed your red and panting face perfectly. Hazel couldn't help but let her mind wander to how you might look if you were lying beneath her in a different sort of circumstance. Her trance was broken when you spoke up.

"Shit," you breathed. "You're really strong, Hazel." The girl could have sworn she detected a hint of flirtation in your tone. She didn't have time to think about it, though. The compliment had caused her knees to weaken enough that you could slot your own knee between hers, flipping over until you were the one pinning her. Your leg remained between her thighs and Hazel only hoped that you couldn't feel how hot she had grown in that spot.

"Not strong enough, I guess, huh?" she asked you. Your expression was triumphant at the jubilant shouts and claps surrounding you.

"I guess not." The fight was over, but you stayed on top of her. Your hair tickled her face and your mouth was close enough that she could feel your breath. If she inched forward just a bit--

"Hell yeah, bitches!" PJ celebrated the dynamic spar. "That's how it's done! I want to see all of you whores getting that down and dirty from now on." PJ not-so-subtly winked at Hazel.

After she picked herself up, Hazel found herself unable to shake the feeling of your hands on her chest, your hair on her face, your knee between her legs. When you met her eyes from across the circle and shot her a wink, she knew that she would most definitely never, ever be able to shake that feeling.

At least not until it happened again.

...

Leaving Mr. G's class gave Hazel a nice break in the day. She was able to stop at her locker, grab a snack, and head to her science class. Science was the one subject that truly interested Hazel. It was the only one that kept her focus entirely. She was completely enthralled by everything it encompassed, and of course, she could never be distracted by your breathtaking smile or heart-melting giggle. Walking into the classroom, she looked forward to a blissful period where she wasn't plagued by images of you and your body and...

You. You were sitting at the lab table where she usually sat. You straightened your back when she walked in, waving at her enthusiastically.

"Hi!" you greeted her as she took her seat. "I just transferred into this class. The teacher told me you didn't have a lab partner yet, so it worked out perfectly!"

"What a fun coincidence," Hazel muttered nervously, wondering how she was supposed to concentrate on her favorite subject with you leaning over the lab table like that.

"So, our first lab is about heart rate." You detailed the lab to her with so much confidence that it intimidated Hazel. She was enthralled by your knowledge on the cardiac system, so enthralled that she found her eyes drifting toward where your heart rested behind your cleavage. "What we need to do is take each of our heart rates when resting, and tomorrow we'll take them in different states like exercising."

"Sounds good." She pulled her eyes away from your breasts, wanting to punch herself for ogling you. Thankfully, you must not have noticed as you leaned forward even more to grab the heart rate monitors you would be using. Your hair brushed past Hazel's cheek until she was enveloped in the delicious scent of you.

"Whoops, sorry." You tucked away your sweet-smelling hair into a ponytail. "How about we do you first?"

"Do me?" Hazel questioned, having been distracted by how pretty your face looked with your hair pulled back.

"Let's get your heart rate first," you explained, giggling at the blush that sprouted on your lab partner's cheeks.

"Right, right," she scolded herself before pointing out her wrist to the monitor you held. You grabbed her hand to move it closer to the reader, but Hazel held her breath when you didn't let go even after the device started beeping.

"Hmm," you sighed. "Your heart rate is super fast. Maybe this monitor is broken." You hit the device against your leg a couple of times to jolt it back to life. You seemed unsatisfied when it read the same results after a second round against Hazel's wrist. "Maybe we'll get a more accurate read against the pulse on your neck."

Before Hazel could process your next move, you pushed her hair back and stuck the monitor on the most sensitive part of her neck. She inhaled sharply at the sudden contact, eyes burning holes into the table to avoid looking into yours.

"Jesus, Hazel. Your resting heart rate is 120 BPM. Do you feel okay?"

Your concern warmed her heart. "Yeah, I'm totally fine. I feel completely normal." She looked at you, feeling her heart speed up even more as your gorgeous eyes bore into hers.

"What, do I make you nervous or something?" you teased her.

Hazel felt like she was seconds away from passing out. "What? No! I'm not-- why would you-- it's not like I--" her sputtering was cut off by your beautiful laugh again.

"I'm just messing with you, Haze." You grazed her arm, still laughing quietly. "I'm going to head to the bathroom. Try to take some deep breaths so you can calm down before I come back."

Still in disbelief, she watched as you glided out of the classroom. She didn't think she had blinked once since you touched her neck. She pried her gaze away from the door and hid her face in her palms. This was becoming much more than a hallway crush.

"Oh, dude," she said to herself. "I am totally fucked."

...

Author's Note: I hope you all liked my first little blurb! I am a horny little freak so I most definitely plan to write more for my girl Hazel, specifically smut because duh. I had so much fun writing this so please send me requests! I would love to hear what you guys want to read more of. Thanks!

[moody-alcoholic]

Hurt

Summary: 2.7k words. Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe.

CW: descriptions of injuries, medical procedures, mentions of surgery, medical inaccuracies, hurt/comfort.

AN: Next part is the last part... It's a beefy one though.

Previous parts - masterlist - next part

Enjoy <3

Simon is scared, more then he has ever been. He’s watching his husband bleeding out while someone else he loves is trying her best to save him. She’s no combat medic but as soon as Johnny’s body hit the floor she was by his side shoving her gauze covered fingers into his wounds. She barked orders at Price while he called an ambulance. 

“Ambulance should be here in 15 minutes.” Price says his phone still pressed up to his ear keeping the dispatchers updated. Gaz has been running round the house looking for first-aid kits, clean sheets anything she can use to make bandages. Her hands are shaking blood running down her face. Johnny nicked her ear when he shot at Jack, could have been worse at least he’s down. 

Ghost is angry, pacing the room his eyes burning into Jack wondering which would be more satisfying to break his legs or his arms? Ghost is listening to every word Price is saying waiting for new orders. It’s easier to be Ghost then Simon right now. 

“Here, I’ve got this!” Gaz says as he rushes back in the room. Price helps him open the green first aid kit pulling out bandages and handing them to you. 

“How long until the ambulance?” you ask your voice shaking, as you instruct Gaz to keep watching Johnny’s breathing. 

“They’re coming.” Price replies not giving a time. A lump forms in Ghost’s throat he swallows to get it away. Price moves over to stand next to him. 

“Pass me your phone I need to call someone to deal with all this.” Price says leaning in. Ghost reaches into his vest pulling out his phone passing it to Price. He pats Ghost on the shoulder then moves back to the other side of the room. A moan comes from the floor, Ghost’s head snaps to see Soap moving. That’s good right. 

“Hey, Johnny keep still.” You say as his arms make their way to the source of the pain. “Keep his head still.” You say to Gaz. He was shot in the back he could have spinal damage. Gaz moves so he can hold Johnny’s head. He’s come too that has to be a good thing you think as you he moans. There is no telling how aware he is but he know’s he’s in pain. You have to fight to keep his hands away so he won’t pull the dressing out. He’s mumbling incoherently as you hear the ambulance sirens that makes you relax a little.

“Ghost go get them.” Price says, you hear Simon leave the room. You look over at Jack. He’s stopped screaming and shouting. Price patched his shoulder up he should be fine. He should be dead. You push the thought away you need to focus on Johnny. His hand has found your thigh, you reach down with your free hand to squeeze it. His eyes find yours and he smiles as you hear footsteps running. The door bursts open and paramedics flood in. You hear Price hang up on the dispatcher as two of them come over to you. 

“What’s happened?” The male one says as he bends down opposite you unzipping his bag. 

“He was shot from behind, through and through. I’ve tried my best to stop the bleeding.” You explain squeezing Johnny’s hand, you hear more sirens as Simon leaves the room again. The paramedic is trying to get Johnny’s attention as the second paramedic comes to take over holding the gauze from you.

You let go of Johnny’s hand moving out the way as the paramedics talk with each other. You stand up as another set of paramedics and police pile into the room. Price goes over to talk to the police as he points the other paramedics over to Jack. You turn and watch as they look at his shoulder. Gaz gets up on his feet as you watch the paramedics work on Johnny, getting an IV in, giving him oxygen, pressing more bandages into his wound.

Your cheek starts stinging and it takes everything in your power to not touch it. Gaz comes over to you leading you out of the way and over to a chair, Simon and Price are talking with the police. Everything was starting to feel like a blur. You look down you’re sat next to Marks body, you keep watching the paramedics work on Johnny and Jack.

You hear the paramedics say there is a doctor here for Johnny. You can see biased on the equipment he’s hanging on. He’s put under and they intubate him. The doctor arrives a few seconds later he wants to do an en-route blood transfusion. Jack leaves first with the other ambulance crew and some officers following behind. He’s formally arrested, his eyes burn into you as you hear the charges read out. The rest of the officers start collecting evidence. 

“Do you need medical attention?” Someone says to you. You look up from Johnny to see an officer stood beside you. You shake your head looking back as the paramedics move Johnny onto a spinal board. Simon is by your side now. You’re crying, each tear that falls in your wound stings. At least the bleeding as stopped you think. 

“Go with Johnny to the hospital and get patched up. We’ll meet you there as soon as we’re done here.” Simon says. You can’t look at him, not with his mask on not while Johnny is still fighting for his life. You get up off the chair though and he squeezes your shoulder. You look round the room as you follow the paramedics out. Jack is gone, Mark is dead. The body in the hallway the person who shot Johnny has been moved and covered up. You look at Price who nods at you then goes back to talking to the officers. Ghost follows you out to the ambulance. You get in the front, you don’t even remember the drive. 

  ——————————  

Your body moves on autopilot. When you make it to the hospital Johnny is taken through to triage. You’re in the waiting room, you refuse help from the nurse who comes to see you. You just sit and wait, using tissues to dab your wound, if you move in the wrong way it starts bleeding again. You’ll need stitches but you want to make sure Johnny is okay first. You don’t want to miss the updates. You need to be somewhere Simon can find you when he gets here. You’re waiting nervously when a doctor comes over to you, he introduces himself and you stand up.

“We’re going to be taking him through to surgery, to remove the bullet fragments. We won’t know the extent of the damage until after we can open him up. I’ll send a nurse through to take a look at your face, you were also involved in the attack from what I understand?” You nod not having the energy to fight with him. 

“I’m okay, I would like to wait for-” you stop yourself, what do you even say? You want to wait for his husband? For Price and Gaz who you barely even know. How much does the doctor know? You realise you’ve not been paying attention to whats been going on since you were hands deep in Johnny’s abdomen. 

“The other people involved in the incident, they’re his squad mates, from the army. They would like to know he’s okay.” 

“I can update them as well if you give me their names but I do think that wound needs looking at, cleaned and bandaged up at the very least.” The doctor says. You don’t want to you don’t want anyone to touch you. 

“I would rather wait.” You say sitting back down. The doctor relents and tells you someone will be out to update you. You feel sick your stomach in knots. You wish you had your phone so you could text Simon. You don’t know how long Simon is going to be or how long Johnny’s surgery is going to take. He’s going to be okay. You tell yourself.    

He’s going to be okay.

  ——————————  

You’re woken to someone shaking you. You don’t even remember falling asleep it makes you jump and you almost fall out the chair. You look up it’s Simon, he doesn’t have his mask on. You look at him confused the pain coming back to your face. 

“You need to get that checked out.” Simon says kneeling down in front of you. 

“Johnny’s in surgery.” You say. 

“I know, the doctor filled us in, Price is talking with him now.” You touch Simon’s cheek. 

“I’m sorry I got Johnny hurt.” You say, you’re too exhausted to cry. 

“It’s not your fault.” Simon says reaching up holding your hand on his chin squeezing it. He stands up. 

“C’mon, Price bullied the doctors into finding a private room for Johnny, we’ll wait in there. And I’ll find a nurse to take a look at that cheek.” Simon says. You let him lead you too your feet as he wraps his arm round your waist. When you make it to the room it’s nice even has a sofa in the corner which Simon leads you too. He leaves and comes back a few minutes later with a nurse who cleans your wound. She says it’s going to need stitches, you reluctantly allow her to do them. By the time she is done and bandaging your ear and cheek up Price walks into the room. 

“The police need a statement from you.” He says looking at you. You look at the nurse and thank her as she tides up to leave. 

“Christ, can’t she have a rest they can talk to her tomorrow.” Simon says from the other sofa on the other side of the room. 

“It’s just a statement 5 minutes tops. They’ll bring you in for a proper interview later in the week.” Price says. You nod getting off the bed heading back over to the sofa where Simon is. You lay up against him he wraps his arm round your shoulder. 

“Thank you for rescuing me.” You say. He kisses the top of your head. 

“I’m sorry it had to come to this, we should have stayed at the house with you.” He says. You can hear the guilt in his voice. You don’t know what he’s more guilty about. You being kidnapped or Johnny being shot. You don’t want to leave his side wrapping your arms round his stomach. When the police officers come in they ask you a few questions take a quick statement then leave.

You see Price and Gaz at the door. You’re exhausted leaning on Simon’s chest. You pull your feet on the sofa a shiver runs through your body. You close your eyes breathing Simon in but all you can smell is blood.

  —————————— 

Simon looks over at you still asleep on the sofa tucked under the blanket he threw over you. They wheeled Johnny in from surgery a bit ago, said he might need a few minutes to come round. Simon moved from the sofa to a chair by the bed so he could hold Johnny’s hand.

He hates seeing Johnny like this, he hates seeing him hurt. His eyes periodically flick back to you, what if Johnny’s vest didn’t stop the bullet. What if it kept going all the way through to you. Simon pushes the thought away, he can’t think about that, losing the both of you is just too much. You’re safe, Johnny is safe, he’s safe. Johnny murmurs and Simon’s head snaps up, he sits up pulling his chair closer to the bed and squeezing Johnny’s hand.    

“Hey,” Simon says as Johnny turns to look at him blinking. 

“Christ, I feel like shit.” Johnny says pulling himself up in the bed. Simon gets up helping him arrange the pillows. 

“Stop getting shot then.” Simon says, Johnny smiles leaning back down in the bed. Simon kisses him on the forehead before sitting back down. Johnny looks past Simon to see you curled up on the sofa.

“How is she?” He asks, Simon looks back for a second squeezing Johnny’s hand. 

“She’s fine.” Simon says, Johnny sighs. 

“What about..” Johnny trails off, Simon knows who he’s talking about. 

“In custody, he’ll live.” Simon says.

“Should have aimed for the head.” Johnny says. Simon smiles, if he had aimed for the head he could have killed her.  

“How ‘bout you? You good?.” Johnny asks, Simon rolls his eyes, bringing up Johnny’s hand and kissing it.

“I’m good.” Simon says, Johnny looks doubtful. Simon Squeezes his hand, looking away, he’ll deal with his emotions later. 

“Si,” Johnny says forcing his eyes to meet Simon’s. “I love you.” 

“I love you too Johnny.” Simon says smiling.

“Johnny?” Your voice cuts through the silence and Simon turns to see you sitting up on the sofa. He gets up bringing over another chair for you. 

“Good to see you lass.” Johnny says enthusiastically, he’s awake and smiling. It’s all you need walking over to him and throwing your arms round him.

“Easy love, still got holes in me.” Johnny says wrapping his arms round your back.

“I know I’m so sorry.” You blurt out you can feel yourself welling up again. It’s happy tears this time. You feel Simon’s hand on your back as you pull away. 

“You ain’t got anything to be sorry ‘bout.” Johnny says his face serious.

“We’re sorry we left ya, didn’t think anyone knew where you were.” Johnny says. Simon’s hand leaves your back pulling on your wrist for you to sit down. You look at Simon, he looks tired. You take his hand and squeeze it. 

“I should have fought, you gave me the gun.” You say looking at Simon. “I tried to run instead.” 

“It doesn’t matter now, you’re safe he’s gone.” Simon says. You know there is more to it, with so many people involved it’ll be a while before their all punished. You’re almost happy Chloe isn’t around to see it. She would have had a lot to say watching her family be arrested and court marshalled for their involvement. You take Johnny’s hand in yours rubbing it with your thumb. 

“Thank you for saving my life love.” He says pulling you back to relativity, you feel yourself blushing. 

“Well I wasn’t going to let you die.” You say feeling embarrassed for some reason. Johnny brings your hand up to his face and kisses it. 

“I know, I love you.” He says. It warms your heart and you find yourself leaning up against Simon. You smile at him as Simon wraps his arm around you kissing the top of your head. 

“I love you too.” You say. 

“So how much medical leave do you think I’ll get this time?” Johnny asks looking at Simon.

“Pff, with the way you’re acting I bet you’ll be ready to go by next week.” Simon scoffs. 

“Aw, not even a week, you’re such a tight ass. You hearing this captain. Si said I’m only allowed a week off.” Johnny says as you see Price walk into the room. You sit up straight so you’re not leaning on Simon. 

“If you’re lucky.” Price smiles. Johnny shakes his head and you squeeze his hand. 

“Well then, making sure I’m fit and ready for duty?” Johnny asks.

“Thought I would give you an update.” Price says crossing his arms. 

“Jack, he’s out.” It’s like someone sucked all the air out the room, your head starts to throb where you were hit earlier. You squeeze Johnny’s hand. 

“How? It’s only been a few hours.” Simon asks.

“His lawyers work quick and they’re good.” Price says, he sounds sympathetic.

“But he kidnapped me, what about all the evidence you got?” You say looking up at Price, eyes wide. This can’t be happening.

“They did a good job at destroying it all, it’s going to take the police time to go through everything.” Price says. You feel sick, no way he’s going to get away with it. No way. Your ears start ringing as you hear Johnny and Simon talk asking questions Price does not have the answers to.

This can’t be happening.  

—————————— 

Next

I am very much aware that the police would have reasonable evidence to hold Jack and not let him out but hey it's just a story.

# fuckjack

[thesirencove]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ WILDFLOWER -- SAM WINCHESTER X FEM!READER

hi everyone !! this is a fic i posted on a previous blog , that i since removed from said blog as i decided to focus on another topic so i created this blog so that i can once again share my works :) i've since edited this fic as i wrote it little bit ago !! let me know your thoughts on this one and enjoy <3 my requests are open and let me know if anyone would like a part two to this !

oh and grab some tissues .

sam winchester x fem!reader (romantic) // dean winchester x fem!reader (platonic)

summary: when a hunt goes wrong...

warnings: blood and bleeding , death , descriptions of being unable to breathe , descriptions of feeling worthless , sad sam :( , lots of angst and overall sad .

word count: 1.8k

it wasn’t meant to happen this way.

y/n and sam were supposed to live a long, happy life together. they were meant to hunt for a little while longer and then retire and live their happy little ‘apple pie life’ as dean trademarked it. they’d already talked about having kids and a dog and building their dream house together. they were supposed to be together until they were old and took their last breaths together. 

simply, together.

but sometimes things don’t go according to plan. just like the moment they were in right now.

sam was kneeling on the floor, covered in blood. not his own. hers. it soaked through his shirt and stained his face.  

“y/n please stay with me,” sam pleaded, holding her limp body in his arms, her shallow breaths barely audible for him to feel any sense of comfort. he was pressing down on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. trying to stop her from dying. still, more of her blood poured out from god knows where. 

“i-’m sorr..y,” she croaked out. y/n could feel herself fading away. the oxygen wouldn’t fill her lungs properly and every one of her limbs were so, so tired. 

the hunt started out perfectly. y/n, sam, and dean were quick to figure out where the monster was and how to get rid of it. a nest of vampires, hiding in the woods, preying on the little town nearby. bodies had stacked up over the years, but it wasn’t until recently that it became suspicious. y/n happened to be the one to find the newspaper article. 

“guys! i found us a case!” she brought the newspaper clipping over to sam and dean so enthusiastically. she was so excited, so proud to have found a case on her own instead of relying on the winchester brothers to find one for them all. they saw the glint of her eyes and couldn’t say no. how could they, seeing how wide she was smiling?

so they went. they should have known it was too good to be true. the vampires were working with a pack of werewolves nearby. they were ambushed. sam and dean had been fighting off a pair of vampires when suddenly–

crack.

it hadn’t come from either of them. sam’s head whipped around to look at y/n, who was clutching her arm close to her chest as she continued fighting off the three monsters who’d grouped up on her. her lips were cut and he could see blood pouring out of a cut above her eye. the beginnings of a bruise stained her cheeks. sam’s vision went hazy, wanting to help her but being so afraid that he couldn’t move. it wasn’t the monsters that scared him. it was seeing y/n hurt. he was frozen in place.

it wasn’t even five seconds later when he saw the last standing werewolf swipe at y/n, eliciting a yelp from her. she swung her silver blade quickly after and the werewolf’s head rolled across the floor. his body dropped, thudding when it went down. 

she followed soon after. y/n dropped to her knees. sam finally snapped out of the trance he was stuck in, rushing to her side. the sound she made when her knees hit the floor rang in his ears as he caught her, pulling her into him. 

his hands were covered in blood as he held onto her. it wasn’t his blood. nor the werewolves. it was hers. her blood was pouring out, staining her shirt and his and both of their hands. it scared him. there was oh so much of it and sam was panicking. 

his y/n. his sunshine. his wildflower. 

she was bleeding out at an alarming rate and he couldn’t do anything. he felt useless, so utterly useless in this moment.

“hey, hey y/n. sweetheart stay with me. please stay with me,” sam practically begged her, as though it would make a difference for her current condition. his voice cracked as he yelled out for dean. for his big brother to do something to save her. his heart was cracking, if not already broken. the tears built and built, finally spilling over like an old dam that couldn’t contain the flood. 

y/n could barely keep her eyes open as she laid there, weakly grabbing onto sam’s arms. she looked down towards her wound. the deep, jagged lines from the werewolf’s claws painted her abdomen. she whimpered at the sight. it burned worse than anything she could have ever imagined but the scream she wanted to let out got stuck in her throat, only building on the agony she felt. 

and the blood. there was so much blood. 

too much of it.

dean rushed over to where sam was holding y/n in his arms, clutching her close to him, like a child who didn’t want to share his favorite plushie. he was holding her so firmly, scared that if he didn’t then she’d somehow disappear. that she’d die faster. he couldn’t lose her, what would he do with her gone? how could he continue to live? 

sam looked up at dean and they exchanged a look, prompting dean to run outside. y/n could faintly hear dean calling out for cas before the weak pounding of her blood became too loud. 

“sam,” y/n rasped, her voice weak. she couldn’t keep the tears from rolling down her cheek. sam didn’t say anything, barely acknowledged that she said his name, not wanting the reality to set in of the situation. not wanting to accept that y/n was dying. the love of his life was dying and he could do nothing about it. he felt so utterly useless, thinking about the countless lives he’d saved, and yet he couldn’t save his love. 

the wounds were too deep to patch up and the nearest hospital was 20 miles away.

“sam,” she repeated, more urgently this time, before subsiding into a minor coughing fit. the blood started coming out of her mouth as well at this point. 

 “shhh, don’t speak sweetheart. you’re going to be okay. it’ll be okay. dean’s going to get cas. he’s going to heal you. it’s going to be okay,” sam said frantically. he was assuring himself of this as much as he was y/n. but both of them knew that this was the end for her. if cas didn’t get here in time then she would be gone.

her breathing became shallow as the blood pooled in her lungs. she felt like she was drowning. falling deeper. and deeper. she felt herself panic and her heart trying to pump more blood, so she could breathe but it just couldn't.

“y/n please stay with me,” sam pleaded. 

“i-’m sorr..y,” she croaked out. 

“promise me, y/n. promise me you-you’ll hold on. promise me that you’ll recover and, and come back. that we’ll live a long and happy life together. the one that we-we..ve always dreamed o-f. with-with a little cottage in the woods. we’re going to have three kids. three of them and a dog,” he trailed off on that last word as he sobbed, stumbling over words as he couldn’t keep himself together. 

���i need you to promise me that.” he begged her once again.

“i promise. but only if you pro-mi..se me-” y/n trailed off, getting weaker with every word she said, “that you’ll move o-n. if-if i die, sam, i ne-ed you,” she gasped for air, “to move on.” sam shook his head, but y/n whispered a measly, ‘please.’ sam, looking into her glistening eyes, once so full of life and now fading from him, and nodded.

dean ran into the room, and sam whipped his head around towards him only to be met with a disappointing shake signaling that cas didn’t come. 

“h-hey dean,” y/n whispered, coughing yet again only for more blood to come out, spilled over her lips and staining them red.

“hey, crazy girl. you’re going to be okay. don’t go pulling a me on us here, alright? heaven and hell are too crowded for you to be joining them,” dean said, taking one of her hands in his and weakly smiling at her. she chuckled weakly, as much as she could, before looking at him again with sad eyes.

“tak-ke care of sa-am for me. and take ca..re of yourself for me, to..o.” dean nodded at her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, one final goodbye for his closest friend and the girl he’d been so excited to see finally get married to sam.

that future was blurred now. no longer an option.

“i lo-ve you, sam” she croaked out one last time, giving him the best smile she could. she wanted him to remember her smile above anything.

“i love you too, wildflower,” sam sobbed, wiping a tear from her cheek and pressing one final kiss to her lips.

and so her heart slowed to a stop. her eyes became devoid of life. her body was fully limp. unmoving. unwavering. sam’s heart had stopped along with hers. 

a final tear made its way down her cheek, like the last fall of snow in winter. 

the flap of wings that they had all been praying to hear had finally come. but it was too late. too late to save her, too late to get married and have the kids they’d once dreamed about, too late to build a home together. too late. 

the sound that came next made dean wince. sams sobs had turned into such agony, such rage that he screamed out as he held the body of his now-dead lover. he screamed at cas, cursing at him, the outburst so unlike him that dean had to look away, squeezing his eyes shut. 

the screams turned to silent weeping as sam held y/n’s body closer to him than before, his flannel and shirt now soaked in her blood. her limp body shook in his arms as he cried. 

and cried. 

and cried.

until he couldn’t anymore. his cheeks and eyes were raw and red from crying. he felt so worthless in himself and in the fact that he couldn’t save her. that he couldn’t get her back. the chapter of their lives had closed, the next page blank. he kept looking into her eyes, so lifeless it terrified him. the girl who made everything she touched full of life was gone. 

he’d never be able to hold her again. never see her smile, or the light shine in her eyes. so many never’s and what if’s filled his brain over and over. every new thought that seeped into his mind was so loud. it was like the thoughts were never ending, until a final thought filled his head.

the sunshine was gone and his wildflower was dead and his heart was broken, and there was no way to fix any of it. but he’d find a way. somehow. no matter how long or what it took. he’d get her back.

[ghostieblr]

<- Part 1 | Untitled | Part 3 ->

"Everything is fine," is what Stiles says when he wakes up, six hours later. He's not bleeding, he doesn't have any wounds on him, but Derek can't shake the feeling that the statement is false. By all logical means, Stiles is fine.

But when has his life ever been logical? There was no rhyme nor reason for Stiles to have come to the Loft in the first place, and then for him to fall asleep.

Derek nods. "Water?" His question is met with a solemn nod, and this, too, feels wrong. Stiles' eyes are different, somehow. He is different, when he wasn't, before. Before that demon put its slimy hands on Stiles, its twisted lips onto Stiles'.

When Stiles willingly gave up his most precious thing to it.

Derek brings back a glass of water from the kitchen, and finds Stiles on the couch instead of Derek's bed. He pivots when he realizes this, and it irks him, this change of places. Not just because Stiles should be resting, they don't know what's gonna happen after a deal is made with a demon like this, but because not once has Stiles ever relocated himself from Derek's bed. Not after something like this happens, which happens quite often.

It irks him, he realizes with a sudden clarity, not because Stiles shouldn't be exerting himself — but because this feels like he's removing himself from Derek's space.

It's stupid, maybe, but it is how he is feeling.

Stiles drinks the whole glass in one gulp, and Derek tries not to stare at his neck, soft and bare, where he could —

"Are you okay?" He asks again, and again Stiles replies that he is. Frustrated, he growls out, "You just made a fucking deal with a demon, Stiles, you're not okay! You gave that thing your most precious thing."

Stiles' smirk doesn't carry its usual nuance of playfulness and... something else, that's always there, when it is directed at him. This time, it's a cruel tilt of his plush lips, pink tainted with venom. "What the fuck do you care? It's not like you have to deal with the consequences."

Stiles puts down the glass on the coffee table, and the force of it rattles the papers — Stiles' assignment papers — off of it and onto the floor. Stiles bends down to pick them up, and Derek stares, because he has no clue what the fuck has changed.

Except, he's not the beast everyone thinks him to be. Sure, he's a caveman when it comes to technology, sometimes, but he isn't stupid.

He licks his lips, and this is it, he thinks. Stiles' eyes are downcast, searching for the one paper that Derek saw move under the couch, so it's easy to say it now. He doesn't want to see Stiles' face when his worst fears are confirmed.

"Stiles... what did I mean to you, before you took the deal?"

He has wondered, a million times over the billion seconds he's been alive, if the universe hates him. If he's patient zero for all of universe's cruel plans, the unlucky chap saddled with Lady Fortuna's fury. And right now, when Stiles' eyes snap up to his, he's sure that he was right.

Stiles' smirk turns, somehow, more cruel. He confesses, "Everything," and then with a laughter that sounds nothing like the warmth of the sun but everything like the absence of moonlight on his skin, he says, "And now you mean nothing to me. This is the happiest fucking day of my life, you know? I was so... burdened before."

Derek can't breathe. With the last of the air he can manage, he stutters out, "Get- Get out!"

Stiles still hasn't found that last page, and now, concern flashes across his face. But it's gone quickly, like it was never there.

He leaves that last bit of paper under the couch, unaware of its predicament, when he slides open the door to the Loft and heeds Derek's words. And Derek, well, he falls onto the couch, falling like a crumpled piece of paper, and like that fucking paper below the couch.

How does the saying go? It's better to have loved and lost rather than never having loved at all? What does this qualify as then, when apparently Stiles' most precious things had been... something about Derek, that's now gone, and he's acting like this?

Derek has loved Stiles for an amount of time he cannot quantify, and now he's lost Stiles, too. And it hurts like all of his limbs are tearing apart, all at once, and like his lungs are burning, and he's choking.

It would have been better if he'd never loved Stiles at all. Because this, whatever Stiles has become after that deal, is something Derek can't survive. He's lost too much already, and he's losing Stiles, too.

His anchor.

The one person whom he actually fucking trusts.

Of course this is happening to him. It's what he deserves, doesn't he? There's no debate about it. He's a sinner, a killer; he's made of pain and he's meant for pain. He is alive only because death would be the most peaceful option for him, and it's ironic that the person who had started to make him feel like maybe his life is worth something is making him feel like this.

Patient Zero, Derek Fucking Hale.

[riverbutghost]

half of my heart 2

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, toxic relationship, arguing, eventual smut, Simon apologizes but still there is tension, mentions of killing themselves, swearing and cursing, crying, Simon loses it but he kinda deserves it…

A/N: Heavier towards the end…The next and last chapter would have a little bit of a smut 👀 Also, the blogs that I couldn’t tag, I’m sorry but I couldn’t tag you :( Please check if that’s because of your privacy settings or me :)

part 1 || part 2 || part 3

“I chose you both for this mission.”

You unintentionally snorted at Price and shook your head.

“No.”

Price sighed and got up from his seat.

“I need you both on this mission, ‘kay? I don’t know what’s happening between you two, but-please.”

A huff escaped your mouth as you stood up and left the room.

You couldn’t believe him, yeah him. He just sat there, looked straight ahead and didn’t say a single word.

What the heck was wrong with him?

How could he be like this, when all you could feel was pain?

A gasp left your mouth as someone from behind you grabbed your arm and threw you in a corner.

“What the fuck?!”

You yelled against their hand, words muffled by their thick , calloused fingers.

“Be quiet, fuckin’ hell..”

You furrowed your eyebrows as Simon rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed by your behavior.

“What do you want?”

Simon caged you between the wall and his chest, one hand slowly moving up to your hair. You held your breath, the feeling so familiar and far at the same time.

With a full force, you pushed him away, making him move a few feet away.

“Don’t you ever, do that again.”

“I-“

“Don’t. You’re an asshole..”

You couldn’t help but feel all teary again and after ripping him a new one you left the area.

A hot and sweet tea was waiting for you.

-

After drinking your long awaited tea, you started getting ready for the mission. The helo would be ready to go in six hours, so you had plenty of time to think.

But, of course, a knock at your door interrupted your thoughts.

“Yes?”

You said while opening the door, and much to your disappointment, it was Simon.

You huffed and closed the door on his face.

“I need to talk to you. Please. I’m sorry.”

With an angry face, you opened the door again to yell at him.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?! First you accuse me of..fucking cheating, second you go and cheat on me and now what do you want? Huh?! I told you to get the fuck out of my face!”

You took a few breaths and swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat.

“I wish I listened to you when you first told me you were incapable of loving.”

With a look of disgust and hurt, you closed the door on him, not caring about how he felt anymore.

-

Simon stood there, for half an hour before his chest started tightening.

“I wish I listened to you when you first told me you were incapable of loving.”

Your voice was repeating itself on his mind, his hands were shaking and ready to punch anything in front of him.

A loud crash was heard all around the base as he punched the wall across from your room. With a growl, he punched the wall again, making his knuckles bleed.

He didn’t like the feeling in his chest, he wanted it to go. He felt stupid, for accusing you of cheating. Even then, he should have spoken to you first. He shouldn’t have cheated on you with someone you knew. Someone you had warned him about.

He did it. He cheated on you with that girl, he felt nothing while doing it. All he wanted to do was to hurt you. Hurt you just like you did to him. Oh boy, how he felt when you told him you never cheated. He obviously thought you were lying. But the hurt on your face, the words you said were so real.

Besides, why would you lie about something like that even though he did the same? He knew you well, after all.

A hiccup interrupted his train of thoughts as he stood up again, not realizing that he was sitting on the hard floor.

He listened through the door carefully, his heart still beating in his chest.

Without thinking twice, he knocked on the door.

“M’ busy.”

The crack in your voice made him weak, he wanted to kill himself. He wanted to make himself vanish, if it meant that you would not cry.

“I’m sorry, love. Please-“

The door was thrown open and Simon hissed at the sight of your puffy face.

“Did you really cheat on me?”

Simon looked down, bit his lip. He wanted to nothing more than to hug you and beg you to forgive him.

“I’m sorry.”

A pained sob left your mouth as you lowered yourself to the ground.

“I-love please. I’m sorry, fuck! I’ll do anything, anything to make you smile again.”

You shook your head, still silently crying as he got in and closed the door. He sat down next to you.

“I’ve never done this before. I’ve never…loved someone enough to care about their feelings. I wanted to hurt you. I was sure you had cheated. I, fuck, I don’t know why I thought that. I love you.”

You just sniffled. Simon took his mask off.

“Please, pretty girl…”

His voice cracked a bit, and a lone tear ran down your cheek. Simon clenched his jaw as his hands tingled with neediness to hold you, to touch you.

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Get put please.”

His heart broke into many pieces as his eyes emptied of color. A part of him knew that you wouldn’t want him anymore, you deserved better than a cheating asshole.

He sighed and got up, his eyes were red and all.

“I’ll do anything to make you forgive me.”

-

omg,I didn’t want this to end badly but what can I say lol let’s cry for a while..

The next and the final chapter will end with a happy ending :) and it will have smut ;) nothing too detailed tho

Also,here is taglist 🏷️ (comment below if you wanna be on my tag-list for this series)

@thefairybird @babygirl-riley @what-0-life @ghostsfavhoe @rivalriotrenegade

[ymechi]

Who is the real Creator?

oh boy it's done! Sorry this chapter is mostly exposition and info-dumping nothing fun is really happening here. Thank you guys for the comments I loved reading them!

-TW: cult au, yandere, impostor au, mentions of being hunted down, mentions of trauma, self harm (nothing major)

-Gn reader and darling (please tell me if I mess this up message me and I will fix it)

part 1, part 2, this is part 3, part 4

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Reader's stomach turned but they tried to take even breaths.

This was ridiculous there was no evidence or proof. The manhunt was the most solid counterargument. If they were the Creator they would not have been hunted. Reader folded their hands and looked challengingly at Nahida. Try to prove it.

Nahida must have understood so she continued to talk.

"I admit I was confused at first I had assumed it was Reader who got the blessing as they had previously been able to control the acolytes, yet I was wrong. Due to Darling always controlling the vessels most of the time and due to the current Creator's presence being so weak even I managed to mix it up and I apologize for that."

She looked over at Reader with sincerity it made Reader uncomfortable enough to shift on their seat, and then she did the unimaginable, she stood up and bowed.

"Please don't I am not some creator you don't have to bow!" Reader said and jumped out of their seat.

Nahida stopped and looked over at Reader with a sorrowful expression.

"Your grace it is only fair, this was long overdue."

"No! you are wrong it still makes no sense it made more sense when it was Darling!"

"You may deny it but the more I spent with you, the closer I was with you, the clearer I felt it, your powers yet small like a budding seed are still there."

Shit she even brought up an allegory, is she being serious. From their peripherals, they could see Darling's uncomfortable expression. Reader pinched the bridge of their nose and exhaled.

"I don't feel any different though and there is so much wrong with that. I am not some creator."

Reader wanted to get up and sleep their hands felt twitchy and there was something buzzing in their skin. They needed to get out.

"Reader y'know have you. . . checked your blood yet?"

It was the first time Darling spoke in a while.

"What do you even mean, it's been red my whole life? Heck, you have seen me bleed multiple times as kids."

"I know, I know but maybe things changed when you entered this world when you were. . . you know hunted down," she quieted down at the last part, "D-did. . . you bleed?"

"N-no," Reader wrung their hands together," not really I got help from the monster and hilichurls with running away,"

Nahida made a sound of protest at hearing Reader's statements and looked down in guilt. There was a tense silence lasting only for a few seconds Reader just knew what Darling was about to say.

"Well, it doesn't hurt to check hey!-"

Reader jumped up and strode towards the kitchen cabinets taking out a knife.

"Y-your grace please wait-"

It was the first time Reader had heard Nahida stutter usually the Archon was so well-spoken and eloquent. Was it another thing she had to learn trying to fit the mold of the Archon of Wisdom?

"I have cut myself plenty of times when I first learned to cook it won't hurt."

They bought a knife towards the thumb and sliced it.

Clank.

The knife fell-

With it, golden blood fell down the floor as well.

Shit.

"Shit," Darling said.

Nahida sucked in a sharp breath.

"Your grace, please give me your hand we can't leave that be."

The Archon hurried over and opened her palms, their body moving in auto-mode as they crouched down and took Nahida's hand. Feeling what Reader thought was a small burst of dendro energy their small cut healed instantly. Nahida looked even more relieved than Reader was when the cut was healed.

Reader for the most part stood dumbfounded on the kitchen floor while Nahida watched them worriedly.

"Reader, are you okay. . .?"

"Darling what the," they paused looking at Nahida's small form," Do I do?"

"I think you should sit down first," Darling replied with a worried look.

For the second time, all three sat on the kitchen table this time for different reasons.

The weight of the revelation was a heavy burden and Reader wondered what Darling felt wearing that title. They neither wanted nor needed such a burden. Reader scowled.

"Hey Reader I've been thinking," Darling paused and looked unsure, "Do you think. . . This happened because you created my account?"

"Huh? Wait what," They paused thinking for a second, "That might actually make sense. . ."

Reader looked at Darling as if she had just solved their entire life mystery. Nahida looked at the two with confusion.

Right.

"Well, this is going to be hard to explain."

"It is alright by me take your time your grace."

Reader tried not to grimace at being called "your grace", they swallowed and held their hands together. They tried to explain what a phone and computers were and then what video games were until they took a deep breath and admitted that Genshin Impact was a game as well. Nahida remained still and took it all in rather well, Reader wondered how someone would feel if they said that the reality you live in was just a video game. When they came to that part Nahida looked contemplative a finger was put against her mouth as she was thinking. Reader thought about what the Archon of Wisdom could possibly think of in a situation like this.

"So our world was a so-called 'video game' in your world."

"Yeah it's uhh, sorry it's kind of messed up," said Darling with a Grimace.

Reader agreed all they could do was play with their hands as they waited for Nahida's reply. Maybe she'd think they were lying or both had lost it. The whole thing sounded ridiculous when they said it out loud.

"I think I get the gist of it."

"R-really you believe us?"

Nahida looked at Reader and nodded.

"This is not the first time that stories or in your case a 'video game' was made by a dream from another universe."

"Wait what," Reader stared dumbly at Nahida.

"Dreams can sometimes garner insight into other realities while it is rare it can happen, I assume the ones who made the 'video game' called Genshin Impact simply dreamed of Teyvat."

Reader put a hand on their head and tried to understand what Nahida was saying, it still sounded unbelievable even after entering this world. nonetheless, Nahida continued

"Other people playing this 'video game' should not be able to have affected Teyvat except when it comes to your grace, the Creator. Later on, you made this account, as you called it, could count as authority being handed over to Darling or a form of blessing which made Darling be able to control acolytes. The device you used  in this case acted as a medium between two realities."

"O-Ohh. . . I am, I don't know what to say."

"This is mostly me guessing I can't say for sure if what I said is right, communicating between realities is extremely hard if not impossible but when it comes to your grace anything is possible," she said with a smile.

Seeing her smile Reader tried to relax a bit, stuff like this went over their head. Metaphysics was not their strong point. Reader rubbed their head.

"I don't get it but it also makes sense. . ." they paused, "also please just call me by my name I like to think we are friends now. . ."

Nahida looked at them with wide eyes but nodded with a happy smile.

"It is an honor and I like to think so too, Reader."

Reader smiled at hearing their name again from Nahida and the mood felt relaxing again. Reader suddenly felt exhausted the rain in the background lulling them. Nahida must have picked up their mood as they began to speak.

"This has been an exhausting day with many revelations, like a Snezhnayan doll we keep finding more dolls inside the ones we already opened."

"You know I am glad to hear you still speaking analogies."

"I am not sure why it does," she leans her head to the side," but if it makes you happy I am glad then."

Reader smiled at her.

"I think for now Darling should come back with me there is a guest room we could use, tomorrow will be a long day unfortunately I suggest we all try to get as much rest as we can."

Readed nodded and looked at Darling. Reader who hadn't talked to Darling in a long while before this day was a bit worried they knew Darling was usually not this quiet and well, demure. Where they were sitting they looked. . . Defeated.

Darling tried to look at them but they looked away, they knew what they would ask for. They did not want to or had no energy to entertain a sleepover with them. There was still much stuff unresolved on Readers part between them.

A cruel part of them was happy that they were hurting. Reader was hurt so Darling should hurt a bit too- they shut that part down. They did not want to indulge in cruel thoughts, They did not want to become someone cruel.

They had seen what cruel people were capable of.

Nahida bid farewell and took Darling with her. Reader said goodbye to the two and cleaned up the kitchen. Afterward, they headed to the bed.

They left the window open letting the breeze come in. A bird suddenly swooped in standing in the window sill looking at them curiously. Reader stared at the bird as well.

 

"Did you know?"

The bird did not answer.

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

Taglist: @resident-cryptid @probablynoposts @esthelily @mitsukashi @charming-mage @chaoticfivesworld @irisxiel @dulcedelechenginamo @yu-ulda @samohxt2-0 @pinkpainc

[yanderemommabean]

MOMMAAAAAAA I LOVED YOUR HORROR OBEY ME THING! (Yes I have you on notifs, I friggin love all your writing, you’re exceptionally talented.)

So here’s my request :3

Yandere Beel and Belphie, deciding to share a female reader. They think they’ll have to resort to darker methods, but she really just loves them both so much! She cooperates every step of the way, and when one of the other brothers tries flirting (probably Mammon or Asmo let’s be honest) she sees the darkest side of the two twins.

Thank you so much in advance if you so write something for it!

((Blood mention and violence! Reader is not the one bleeding!))

You really are too perfect. Belphie still beats himself up about ever being mad at you and thinking you were some lowly being. And Beel...well he's just as dark as he is a bright smile with a big appetite. They both love you so much but have to admit they never want to show that dark side to you. Really they never have to. You're so sweet and obedient, you wait for them to lead you by hand if you go anywhere, you ask permission before leaving their sight, you don't ask questions when they get a bit...odd...which is often. But they tend to forget you've captured the attention of their other brothers as well. There's jack shit they can do about Lucifer, as he's the most powerful and terrifying and could easily smite them, so they let him think he has your heart. But the others? They need to learn to watch themselves. Belphie can feel his fangs aching to tear into Mammon. That dark blood coating his mouth and throat sounded divine. That cheap asshole keeps thinking he can get you alone by throwing fits and demanding like a brat, and it's killing his last shred of sanity. You giggle when he begins to tickle you, those sinful hands daring to touch your perfect skin, and before Belphie can launch, Beel already has Mammon by the throat. You go pale, shaking as the usually playful demons are now transforming and dripping drool from their large, tooth filled maws. Those teeth look eager to pierce any flesh they can, and Mammon’s skin looked especially appetizing to Beel as he began to snarl in their ancient tongue, of which you couldn't make out much other than them being angry. Belphie moves like a snake, his arms quickly wrapped around you as he starts to carry you away from the scene, but its too late. A punch was thrown, and a nose was definitely broken. Beel holds his face as his eyes turn ballistic, his pupils pinpoints as he roars and lets the blood drip down his nose and lips. 

You scream, but Belphie hushes you with a rather possessive kiss, turning you away but you insist on wriggling and biting him even. Oh? So you want to misbehave? No no no, you’d never…You’re just worried about Beel is all! That’s it! Oh forgive him, he gets irrational when protective you know? 

“No no see! Beel can handle himself! Mammon’s already nearly blue…Once he’s a shade darker we’ll be good for a while. Why the big eyes sweetheart? Choking him wont kill him! He’ll just be hurt enough to think about what he’s done. Unless…You want him dead?” You’re unable to speak. You aren’t used to such anger and violence, despite being in literal hell, or the devildom. These are beings of pure unadulterated rage and brutality yet for so long all you’ve seen was a few screaming matches and…now this. “No-No no no! Just-” you stammer, trying to squirm in Belphies grip once again as Beels face is warped, something truly sinister covering his expression as he holds Mammon’s throat with both hands, a wicked gleeful smile on his face as he does so. “LET HIM GO! Beel! BEEL!” you scream, having no other choice but to use the power of your pact to get the beast off of him and allow him air. The demons are all thrown to the side, your body hitting the floor too with a harsh thud, the breath being knocked from you as you cough and scramble to check on the second born. 

You don't get two inches to him before Belphie whispers a spell and you’re in their bedroom, Beel still covering his bleeding face as he stares at you like a dog awaiting its next command. He looked like he was in a trance yet still wanted blood. How did things spiral this fast? This is crazy! “I love you sweetheart, I really really do…But you don't get to do that to us. You don't get to tell us what we can and can't do, pact or not, all we want is to protect you” Belphie hissed, teeth coming out as if he wanted to bite right into you, but he held off, seemingly talking to Beelzebub through their odd twin link. “Belphie. Stop…They get worried easily is all, they saw me hurt, and wanted to check on me. I mean what other way could they stop us to check on us both?” Beel says as he pinches his nose, staring at you with sweet but terrifying eyes. Completely delusional. “Right? I mean I like to think we know you pretty well at this point, you just wanted me to stop because you thought I was badly hurt. But I'm ok! I am, the blood is even stopping on its own. You’re so sweet it's almost silly sometimes”. You may be a human with ancient beings older than the world itself, but you aren’t stupid. Those eyes held a deep, dark intent, and the next few words you say might be your last if you aren’t careful. You’ve been given a chance to play along, so, you take it. “How could I not be worried?! You’re bleeding! “ you exclaim, watching as Belphies face goes back to being soft and amused while Beel pouts and holds you to his chest as he pets your hair. “Aww. We’re so so sorry Y/N, really! But we’re big and strong, there’s nothing you need to worry about ok?” Beel says with a kiss to your head, gently flopping you on his bed as he turns to look towards Belphegor. “Ward the room for a while, I don't want to hear anything from Lucifer until this little cutie is calmed down. He’d just make the tension even worse” Once Belphegor began the incantation, Beel crawled to sit above you, blood dried on his face as he smiled. “You'll be ok, Me and Belphie won’t let anything happen to you. We love you, after all”. 

-Mommabean (I hope you enjoy beans!!! Sorry for typos, I type too fast and auto correct doesn’t always catch them!) 

[suitkive]

✩ just swinging by — k.yh

pairing. yoohyeon (dreamcatcher) x fem reader

summary. ever since the mysterious web-swinging spider-woman first collapsed on your balcony by accident after a long night out fighting crime, she keeps coming back around with thank-you gifts and excuses to see you—and you slowly start to find yourself falling for the clumsy, kindhearted girl behind the mask.

info. college au, yoohyeon as spider-woman

warnings. swearing, blood/injury

word count. 4.6k (oops)

(a/n) insp. this moodboard i made a while ago :D

of all the things you were expecting to happen to you on a typical sunday night, the sudden appearance of a masked vigilante at your balcony was most certainly not one of them.

alright, rewind a bit. a CRASH jolts you awake in the middle of the night—though really it's morning, according to the glowing red digits on your alarm clock that read 3:49 AM—and you nearly fall out of your bed because that was loud, what the hell?

nerves running high and any remnants of sleep completely shaken out of your body, you get out of bed and slowly open your bedroom door only to be met with a blast of frigid night air. you blink a few times, just to make sure you're not seeing things.

"what the fuck," you say out loud.

your balcony door is gone.

no, wait—it's broken. shards of glass are everywhere, and there's a giant gaping hole where the sliding door used to be. and lying crumpled in a heap on the floor in front of it…

you fumble for the light switch, something you probably should've done as soon as you opened the door. the sight that greets you when the light turns on makes you wonder if you're still dreaming, because this can't actually be happening.

there is a superhero on your balcony.

and she's bleeding all over your carpet.

"oh my god—" you hurriedly rush over to get a better look. red-and-blue spandex that's torn in several places, a trail of spiderwebs clinging to her wrists, a large spider symbol printed on the front and back of her suit… it's spider-woman. spider-woman just crashed through your balcony door.

and she's bleeding. on your carpet.

"okay," you mumble, trying to think. at least the fresh night air coming from the massive hole in your balcony door does well to invigorate you. "okay, okay, i need to do something… oh god, my landlord is gonna be so pissed at me—"

the body on the floor lets out a weak groan, and you quickly kneel down next to her. "hello? are—are you okay?"

with great difficulty, the girl struggles to lift up her head. her mask obscures the entirety of her face, so you have a hard time telling whether or not she's fully conscious.

"…ow," she croaks out at last, and then her head falls back to the floor with a thunk. seconds later, her chest begins to slowly rise and fall. a soft snoring sound emits from her mask.

you take a deep breath. okay. you can deal with this.

so here you are almost three hours later, nursing a cup of much-needed coffee as you stare contemplatively at the now-bandaged but still-snoring superhero laid out on the couch in front of you. you had done your best to clean and treat her wounds with your limited medical knowledge (and the suspiciously well-stocked first aid kit that your weird roommate handong keeps in the cupboard), so now you're just waiting for her to wake up. which is taking way too long.

the clock on the coffee table reads 6:15 AM, and you glumly swish around the cold dregs of your morning coffee. it's almost time for you to leave for your 6:30 chemistry class, but it looks like spider-woman is still completely out of it.

after pacing around the kitchen of your tiny apartment for five more minutes, you impulsively grab a post-it note and scribble down a message for spider-woman to see when she wakes up. thankfully your roommate is literally never home, so there's no chance of anyone coming in here and discovering the superhero conked out on your couch.

you sign your name at the bottom of the note and stick it to spider-woman's forehead, hoping she'll be alright. as for your balcony door… thinking about how much it's going to cost to install a new one gives you a headache, so you just stick a large sheet of cardboard over the opening and resolve to take care of it as soon as you get home.

"this has been a very, very weird morning," you say out loud, because nothing about this feels real.

(then again, the tedious hours you spent cleaning up bits of glass from the floor and picking the webs off of spider-woman's suit definitely felt pretty real.)

you throw one last glance at the sleeping heap on your couch before you leave, only hoping that your life will get back to normal after today.

yoohyeon wakes up disoriented, aching all over, and with the horrifying realization that she has most definitely slept past all five of her monday morning alarms.

she blinks sleepily, slowly processing her surroundings. she's lying on a couch, someone has bandaged her wounds and swaddled her in blankets, yubin probably, she's an angel and the best guy in the chair yoohyeon could ever ask for and… whoa, wait a minute.

this isn't her apartment.

with that horrifying realization, yoohyeon sits straight up and whips her head around in a panic. her surroundings are entirely unfamiliar, and she's about to call yubin before remembering that yubin is unreachable right now—away on some sort of top-secret mission that's supposed to last, like, three months. yoohyeon groans. why am i actually the worst superhero ever?

then she realizes that there's something stuck to her forehead and reaches up to find a neon green sticky note with some writing on it, which she slowly reads through with a good deal of trepidation.

hey, you crashed into my apartment last night—you were unconscious but i didn't see your face, don't worry! i fixed up your injuries as best i could but now i need to leave for class, so i hope you'll be okay when you wake up. just remember to put the cardboard back over the balcony door so birds won't fly in or anything :)

phew. so yoohyeon's secret identity hasn't been leaked, that's a relief… but she essentially broke into an innocent civilian's apartment, which she doesn't exactly feel great about. i need to make this right.

"oh, wait—" yoohyeon realizes something and jumps to her feet, the blankets falling around her. "shit, i'm late for class!"

you're dutifully taking notes as the professor drones on about chemical equations, though you're struggling to stay focused—seriously, who decided that 6:30am classes on a monday was a good idea?—when suddenly the doors to the lecture hall burst open and a girl runs in, flushed and panting heavily.

"i am so sorry," she wheezes, bracing her hands on her knees to catch her breath. "i overslept…"

the professor sighs and waves off her apology. "don't let it happen again," he says sternly, then continues his lecture.

you cast the girl a curious glance as she shuffles shamefully to an empty seat and starts unpacking her things. she's tall and lanky, with long two-toned hair tied in a haphazard ponytail and glasses that she has to push back up when they start to slip down her face. you make eye contact for a brief moment, then you resume paying attention to the professor without giving the encounter too much thought.

after classes end, you go back to your apartment to find the place superhero-less. the blankets are folded messily on the couch and there's a small tear in the cardboard that's covering the opening in your balcony, as if someone was in a hurry to leave.

you shrug off your bags with a sigh and go to dial up your landlord.

almost a week passes without further incident. you get your balcony door replaced so it's like nothing ever happened, and your life is just starting to get back into the usual swing of things when spider-woman shows up at your balcony again.

a thump is what wakes you up prematurely this time—it's literally 5am which is way too early for a saturday morning of all days—and you groggily stumble out of your bedroom, fearing the worst. you know it can't be a burglar since you live on the seventh floor, so there's only one person it could be…

luckily, the glass door is fully intact when you pull back the curtains to check. however, there is currently a superhero lying curled in a ball on your balcony. a very familiar superhero wearing a red-and-blue suit with a spider symbol on it.

"oh… oh, no," groans spider-woman when she hears you slide open the door. she weakly tries to drag herself to her feet, but she slumps back to the ground and you notice, with concern, the bleeding scratches all over her body. "oh man, i did it again… i'm so sorry, i'm gonna leave, just… wow you're so pretty… sorry, i should really leave—"

"no, it's okay!" you rush to reassure her, kneeling down next to her and offering your hand. "you can't go back out there like that, let me help you."

she winces, though whether it's from pain or embarrassment you can't tell. "i am so sorry," she repeats, and something about her voice seems oddly familiar, but you're too preoccupied with getting her inside to dwell on that.

the superhero keeps rambling as you half-drag, half-carry her to the couch. "i didn't mean to come here again, it's just i usually go to my friend's place when i'm injured but she's away and i got lost and mistook your apartment for mine the last time and i'm really sorry about breaking your door, it was just so dark and i had a really long day and i wasn't thinking straight and i probably gave you so much trouble—ow!"

"sorry!" you flinch and let go of her. "is your arm okay? what happened?"

"i… um." spider-woman chuckles nervously. "i kind of swung into a building? i didn't break any windows or anything! i might've broken my arm though."

you can't help but laugh, finding her awkward manner strangely endearing. "let me take a look, it might be dislocated or something."

it turns out it's just bruised, so you get her some ice and busy yourself fixing up her injuries. she repeatedly tries to convince you that she can do it herself in between a steady stream of more apologies, but she looks like she's one step away from passing out, so you insist on helping her.

"how'd you get all these cuts and scratches, anyway?" you ask, opening the bottle of antiseptic and setting out some gauze. "if you don't mind me asking, that is."

"no, it's fine! um…" spider-woman tilts her head, as if trying to remember. "the ones on my ribs are from some muggers with knives, kids really but there were four of them and only one of me so yeah… and the ones on my arms are from the black cat, you know, my nemesis? she was robbing a jewelry store and i managed to stop her but she still escaped and also got me a few times with her claws… oh, and there's this cut on my forehead that i got when i accidentally tripped and hit my head on a wall corner a few hours ago… but i can fix that on my own! you know, cause i'd have to take the mask off for that, and like, i can't reveal my secret identity 'cause dami—that's my guy in the chair—dami would kill me, haha…"

by the time she's done talking, you've finished cleaning and wrapping all of her wounds. there's just the cut on her forehead that's left, which is still bleeding despite her flippant assurances that it doesn't even hurt.

"that looks pretty bad," you note, kneeling down beside the couch and leaning in closer to inspect it. you gently press a paper towel to the bleeding area, using your other hand to brush a stray drop of blood from her cheek. "are you able to swing like that?"

there's a beat of silence. you realize that spider-woman has gone perfectly still, and also that your faces are extremely close together.

"sorry—" you shift away apologetically, worried that you made her uncomfortable. "you probably don't like it when people touch your suit."

"it's okay!" spider-woman's voice comes out as a strangled squawk, and she quickly coughs to clear her throat. "um. i was just. surprised."

"oh… well then." you stand up and glance awkwardly around your apartment, at a loss for what to do next. "so uh… how are you feeling?"

she springs up from the couch, startling you. "a lot better, thank you so much! i've caused you way too much trouble so… i should probably get going now, huh."

"are you okay to swing with your injuries and all?" you ask as she half-walks, half-slides to the balcony in this self-consciously exaggerated way. "they looked really painful when you arrived here."

"this is nothing," she responds with a casual wave of her hand, hoisting herself up onto the balcony railing in a quick graceful movement. "i heal pretty fast, so they barely even hurt anymore."

"that's good, then." you lean against the doorframe, somewhat saddened to see her go. strangely enough, you've actually been enjoying her company despite the fact that she quite literally crashed into your apartment and woke you up in the middle of the night.

spider-woman clears her throat. "uhh—maybe i'll see you around sometime," she says, a hopeful lilt to her voice.

the sun is starting to rise, peeking over the tops of the city skyline and bathing your apartment in soft golden light. spider-woman tilts her head at you, and you're almost completely certain that she's smiling under her mask.

"yeah," you respond, smiling back and raising a hand to shade your face from the sun. "i'll see you around sometime, superhero."

spider-woman gives you a jaunty little two-fingered salute, and then she's launching herself backwards off the railing with a carefree whoop. she disappears from your view for a few heart-stopping moments, but then a web shoots up and she's swinging away in between the skyscrapers until she's out of sight.

the next day, you open the curtains to find a small bouquet of red and blue flowers sitting on your balcony. they look wind-blown and slightly frayed, and the thought of a certain superhero swinging through the city with the little pot tucked carefully under her arm makes you grin despite yourself.

you get the feeling you won't be seeing the last of her any time soon.

"um, is it okay if i sit here?"

you glance up from the chemical equations on your laptop screen, meeting the eyes of a tall girl who's fidgeting nervously with the ends of her long hair. vaguely, you recognize her as that clumsy student who ran into class late last week.

"oh, sure," you say after a confused beat, shifting over slightly to make more room for her. something about her voice rings a bell, but you're not sure why it sounds so familiar. i've probably just heard her talking to her friends before, you rationalize.

"thanks!" she sits down and starts taking out her stuff, smiling hesitantly at you. "i'm kim yoohyeon, it's nice to meet you."

she has a pretty smile, you note while you introduce yourself. "it's nice to meet you too."

yoohyeon seems shy around you and doesn't talk much, but there's something captivating about her that you can't quite figure out exactly. she pays close attention to the professor during the lecture, though occasionally you'll look over to catch her stealing glances at you—she always blushes and quickly looks away, piquing your curiosity. hmmm.

after an extremely long and boring hour, the class is over and everyone starts packing up and filtering out of the lecture hall. you're packing up as well when your arm brushes against yoohyeon's by accident, and her cheeks flush bright red as she stares at you wide-eyed.

"i—" yoohyeon clears her throat. "bye!" she squeaks, and then she's shooting out the doors before you can even open your mouth to reply.

huh, how strange.

you're studying at your kitchen table one afternoon, curtains open to let some sun into your apartment, when you hear a tap-tap-tap on your balcony door and look up to see spider-woman crouched outside.

"i hope this isn't creepy," she rushes to say as soon as you slide open the door. "i was just, er, in the area and i thought i'd swing by and say hello… um, i brought you a croissant! as thanks for, y'know, everything."

"wow, thank you," you say in surprise, taking the paper bakery bag that she's hopefully holding out to you. the chocolate croissant inside is a little flattened, but you're warmed by the gesture regardless.

"no problem!" spider-woman jumps back up onto the balcony railing, sitting and swinging her legs like a little kid. "so, uh, yeah. just wanted to do that. i hope it wasn't weird. was it weird?"

you can't help but laugh. "you're cute," you say sincerely, the words slipping out against your will—flustered, you quickly change the subject before she can notice. "um, i'm not really busy right now so… you can come in and hang out for a bit, if you want."

"really?" she tentatively slides off the railing and trots inside after you like a lost puppy. "i feel bad for intruding—ooh, were you doing homework?"

"yeah, just studying for a test," you respond, sitting down and gesturing for her to pull out a chair as well. "do you know anything about chemistry?"

"i love it!" she exclaims, perking up and scooting closer to get a better look at your notes. "i first made my web fluid in my high school chemistry lab actually, it was… well, it was a learning experience. what are you studying?"

"acid-base reactions, most of it went over my head when my professor was lecturing about it…"

before you know it, two hours have gone by in a flash. spider-woman just has this bright and likable aura around her, and as she chatters about chemistry with infectious enthusiasm and tells you funny stories about her experiences as the city's resident superhero, you find that you already feel even more at ease with her than you are with your own roommate.

"we should do this again soon," you tell her when she has to leave, standing on your balcony surrounded by the bustling sounds of the city. "and be careful, alright? don't go swinging into any more buildings."

"i promise!" she assures you with a laugh, giving you a cheerful wave before she jumps from your balcony and swings off.

after that, spider-woman starts swinging by to see you a lot more often. you can tell she still feels guilty about accidentally breaking into your apartment, because she always comes with gifts of flowers or random pastries from the bakery down the street.

"you really don't need to go to all this trouble for me," you tell her, amused, when she presents you with an entire cake.

"it's no trouble at all!" she insists cheerfully, then gasps. "unless you don't like it. do you not like it?"

"no! i really appreciate it, i promise. it's just, you don't have to get me stuff if you don't want to."

"i want to!"

it's after a few weeks of the dorky superhero swinging by your apartment that you begin to realize you might be developing a bit of a crush on her. which is ridiculous, really, considering you have no idea what she looks like under the mask and you don't know her real name either. you don't know anything about her.

but you do know her, in a way. you know that she likes to pretend she's this cool badass superhero when in reality she's just a science nerd who gets excited about mixing chemicals. you know that she loves rescuing kittens from trees even though she's scared of cats, just because it's worth it to see the relief on its owner's face. you know that she sometimes swings by elementary schools during recess because a wave or a thumbs-up from spider-woman always makes the kids' entire day. you know that she's smart, she's kind, she's clumsy, she loves helping people more than anything.

you know her well enough for your heart to flutter every time you hear her tap on your balcony door, no matter the time or reason. she usually comes by during the day now, just to bring you gifts and hang out, but every once in a while she'll still crash on your balcony in the middle of the night with injuries from fighting crime.

this is one of those nights, apparently. a forceful knock on your front door is what wakes you up at 11pm one sunday night, and you groan as you're violently dragged out of your peaceful sleep.

"coming," you mumble half to yourself, throwing a random hoodie over your pajamas and hauling yourself to the door. "i have class tomorrow, who even—"

it's spider-woman, leaning heavily against the doorframe. "hi," she croaks. the knocking must have tired her out, because she topples into your arms as soon as you open the door.

"what…" you blink groggily for a few seconds, slowly processing the girl draped all over you. your half-asleep brain notes that she's very warm. it's like a nice blanket.

then you realize that your apartment door is still wide open, and the city's most famous superhero is just standing right there in the hall where anyone could see. "what are you doing here?" you yelp, pulling her inside and hurrying to close the door. "you're in your suit and everything! did anyone see you come up?"

"dunno," she mumbles, tucking her face into the crook of your neck. "i hit my head really hard. didn't think swinging was a good idea…"

you maneuver the superhero onto your couch, and she whines when you pull away to go get the medical kit. "hurts."

"looks like there isn't any bleeding," you say, kneeling down next to the couch and examining her head. "do you think it might be a concussion?"

"probably," she rasps, squishing herself further into the couch and looking like a burrito with the blanket you put over her. "should heal in a few hours."

you furrow your brow, still not used to what she calls her spidey-healing. "okay, get some sleep. you can stay here as long as you want, alright?"

"gotta wake up early," she says drowsily. "chemistry lab tomorrow…"

you blink. you… also have a chemistry lab tomorrow. "is that so?"

"yeah." you think her eyes are closed behind her mask, but then she shifts her head slightly and giggles softly to herself. "you're sooo pretty… i was so scared to talk to you in class."

wait, what?

spider-woman keeps rambling as she drifts off to sleep. "wanted to ask you out… but i was too shy without the mask. ran away, so embarrassing…"

wait, what?

"you're really cool," she mumbles. "and nice… and pretty… i like you a lot… want to take care of you like… like you take care of me…"

a pause. "you should go out with me," she says, then falls silent. tiny snores start coming out of her mask.

you slowly stand up, head spinning with all these new revelations.

huh.

you decide to go back to sleep.

it's around three in the morning when you wake up again to the sounds of someone shuffling around in the living room. you reluctantly slide out of your nice warm bed, slipping a hoodie on and heading out of your bedroom to find the source of the commotion.

"sorry, did i wake you?" spider-woman hovers uncertainly by the open door, dressed in civilian clothes—a hoodie and sweatpants—though she still has her spider-woman mask on, which looks so ridiculous that you have to smile at the sight.

"yeah… you're leaving already?" you ask, rubbing your eyes and yawning.

"yep," she says, awkwardly shifting her bundled-up superhero suit from hand to hand. "um. you should go back to bed, i know you have an early class tomorrow…" and so do i, she thinks to herself ruefully.

"let me see you off first," you insist through another yawn, covering your mouth with one oversized hoodie sleeve. "be careful on your way down, okay?"

"i will," she mumbles shyly. you can't see it, but she's blushing so hard at the gentleness in your voice and the soft way you're looking at her that she's scared her mask might burn right off her face. i've got to leave before i do anything stupid, she thinks, embarrassed. why is she so nice… and pretty…

the superhero is halfway down the hall when you remember all of last night's events and suddenly get an idea.

"yoohyeon," you call out, leaning against your doorframe.

she stops and turns around. "yeah?"

a pause.

you see the exact moment she realizes. "i—oh fuck—i mean, um—" she flounders, wildly looking around and laughing nervously. "wh-who's yoohyeon? i'm just your friendly neighbourhood spider-kim—i mean—"

you smile teasingly. "next time you ask me on a date, do it when you're not suffering from a concussion."

you don't know what her facial expression is like under her mask, but spider-woman—yoohyeon—looks like she's about to pass out, if the way she's clutching her suit in a death grip is any indication.

your smile softens. "i like you too, just so you know. a lot." you step back inside your apartment, but then you poke your head out again (yoohyeon is still standing there, frozen in shock) and add, "come back and ask me again tomorrow, okay? properly."

you close the door and take a deep breath. you feel as if your heart had stopped beating momentarily, but now it resumes racing excitedly in your chest.

hopefully i didn't just make a huge mistake.

meanwhile, yoohyeon is practically having heart palpitations outside. she spends a while just gaping like a fish at your closed door, but then she comes to her senses and practically breaks her neck sprinting to the elevator.

oh god, i need to look nice tomorrow!

the next morning, you're sitting at the kitchen table doing some studying before class when you hear the distinct noise of feet landing lightly on your balcony outside. there's the sounds of someone pacing for a while. then a light knock sounds on the glass door, making you turn around.

it's yoohyeon. not spider-woman, but kim yoohyeon from your 6:30am chemistry class. she's wearing jeans and a turtleneck sweater, her long hair falling in soft waves past her shoulders and her dark brown eyes bravely staring into yours. in her hands is a small bouquet of red-and-blue flowers.

"did you swing up here?" you ask incredulously, tearing your eyes away from her and looking around. the sun is starting to rise, painting the sky in a soft rosy hue that matches the blush on yoohyeon's face. "did—"

"wait—please don't say anything," she interrupts, eyes squeezed shut. "before i chicken out."

she takes a deep breath and opens her eyes, meeting your gaze. "hi, i'm kim yoohyeon. um, i'm also spider-woman, and i… i'd really like to take you out on a date sometime."

she smiles hopefully at you. you step closer to her, taking the bouquet from her hands and leaning up to press a kiss to her cheek. yoohyeon's blush intensifies, and your heart soars.

"it's nice to meet you, kim yoohyeon," you tell her, matching her smile. "and i'd love to go out with you."

[slytherinshua]

DEATH OF A BROKEN HEART

genre. angst. soulmate au. warnings. heartbreak and major character death. pairing. leehan x fem!reader. wc. 524. request. requested by @hyunhanie: could you pleaseee do an angsty fic with Leehan?? Like idk about what in particular,but please something dramatic!! a/n. sry for this being so late but i hope you like it!! ik its not very long-- originally i was going to write a leehan hanahaki au but that kind of got forgotten in my drafts for a bit :( i just whipped this up cause i had angsty ideas from the trailer film that i still can't stop rewatching skdjks lol. original gif by @/foamofyouth and i just put the text over <3

Donghyun let a string of curses leave his mouth when he heard the robotic tone of the voice message rejecting his call for the 10th time that night. He wasn’t sure what else to do. Cry, shout, scream? All those options had already been expended. And so he let foul words slip from his pretty lips into the cool air of the bathroom; words he would never ever have imagined being directed towards you.

You were so precious to him. Or, at least, you had been.

72 hours. 28 missed calls. 2 broken promises. 1 burning soul mark.

Donghyun had been lied to by the whole world. He sunk to the floor as the weight of it all hit him, the sting on his wrist getting more extreme the farther you were from him. He pressed down on it with one hand, dropping his phone as he curled into a tighter ball from the pain. No amount of pressure would ever relieve it. There was no medication he could take. He just had to wait.

If you were his soulmate then how did it go wrong? It wasn’t supposed to be able to go wrong. Soulmates were supposed to be perfect for each other. 

But you had switched faster than Donghyun could blink. 4 days ago you had been planning your future together, and now here he was abandoned by the only person he had ever trusted.

You were running away from him, he knew that much. There was no other explanation for why it burned so much. Soul marks only hurt when your soulmate left you for good. It was a pain that you were only supposed to feel when they died.

You weren’t dead.

You weren’t supposed to leave.

Donghyun knew that he would never get the answers to his millions of questions. He had no way to reach you, no way to demand an explanation from your lips. Not that he would last 1 second in your presence again. He broke so easily, wrapped tightly around your finger even when you had left his heart broken and bleeding on the cold tile floor. 

He would never get you back, and by virtue of it, he would never love again. No one would love someone abandoned by their own soulmate, especially when he had no defense.

Donghyun let his eyes flutter closed, breathing a few soft breaths of fresh air as he let his mind wander over memories one last time. The grips of death fingered at his clothes, creeping ever closer, trying to grab hold of his heart. 

And he let it.

There was no reason to resist anymore; no motive for prolonging the inevitable. 

A shaky breath left his soft lips, and one final tear formed on his lash line. It wasn’t out of anger or hatred for you and your actions, but full of regret and longing for one more chance. If he could restart time and do it all over again, he would in a heartbeat. 

That was his weakness. That was what made him all the more vulnerable to the soulmate phenomenon; death of a broken heart.

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[amhrosina]

Let Me Help You (Frank Castle x Reader)

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

A/N: Both of my boyfriends are officially coming back to me!!! Everyone say thank you Marvel!!!!! Enjoy :)

Summary: In which Frank is a total affectionate sweetheart to reader after they get themself into a bind that requires his medical intervention.

(Warnings: typical Frank stuff, description of wounds/blood/gore etc., cursing, Frank is worried about reader but doesn't realize it's because he has feelings, mainly fluff lol

You cursed, pressing your forehead against the rim of the dingy sink in a desperate attempt to cool your body temperature down. Your hands had reached a level of shakiness that you didn’t know was possible, and the wound on your abdomen was beginning to fester. 

You tried to straighten, but your rapid movement pulled on the wound, and it took everything in you not to scream out in pain. Frank was sleeping in the other room, and the last thing you wanted to do was wake him up. He’d just barely started to tolerate your presence at the safe house, and you weren’t planning on jeopardizing that. 

You panted as another wave of nausea washed over you. You needed to get the wound cleaned and sutured now, but every little movement sent you into a dizzying spiral toward the floor. A drop of sweat slid down the back of your shirt, following the curve of your spine as you hunched forward again. You didn’t realize you weren’t alone until he spoke. 

“You’re bleeding.” 

“Wow.” You panted, “Nothing gets past you, soldier.” 

You arched an eyebrow at Frank, who had appeared in the doorframe between the bathroom and the main living space. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his relaxed posture made you question how long he’d been standing there watching you struggle.  

You straightened again, albeit a little slower this time, and refocused on cleaning the ugly cut across your side. You picked at the bloody scraps of your shirt, gritting your teeth in pain when the fabric, blood soaked and torn to shreds, pulled at the wound. Frank sucked in a sharp breath when you finally revealed the nauseating cut down the length of your abdomen.  

“Jesus.” He cursed, expression suddenly grave, “What the fuck did you do?”  

You reached for the stack of towels that were unfortunately (and not for too much longer) white.  

“I’m handling it.” You grunted. 

You had a plan in your head, and it didn’t include being scrutinized by Frank’s judgmental stare. Step 1: Stop the bleeding. Step 2 (assuming you haven’t passed out yet): Clean the wound. Step 3: Sutures. It was a simple plan. You pressed the towel against the wound, repeating the steps in your head, and winced at the pain that flared in response. 

“You’re not handling shit, kid.” He snorted at your hesitation to add pressure to the wound, clearly unimpressed with your patching skills once you turned them on yourself. You’d patched him up dozens, if not hundreds of times, but the second you saw blood seeping from your own skin, your stomach turned queasy. 

He pushed off the doorframe and stalked closer to you, reaching for the hand you had clamped over the towel. You stumbled away from him, shaking your head. 

“I don’t need your help.” You winced at the sudden movement, almost falling to your knees as white-hot fire shot through your entire body. 

“You sure about that, sweetheart?” He cocked his head to the side, following your movements with his eyes, “Cause to me it looks like you do.” 

“I’m fine.” You spat, gritting your teeth. You wouldn’t be a burden to him after spending so much time trying to stay out of his way. He’d been generous enough, allowing you to use the safe house as a hiding place while you tried to figure out what to do next. The clash that led to the pain-in-the-ass cut on your side was unexpected, to say the least. 

“Hey.” He captured your chin in his hand. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, skimming over his features with a cursory glance. You’d never noticed the scar hidden at the edge of his temple before. “Let me help.” 

He said it softly, probably the softest you’d ever heard him speak. It was because of that and that alone that you slightly nodded, and finally allowed his hand to press into the towel against the wound.  

You inhaled sharply at his added pressure, squeezing his arm so hard that most people would’ve flinched. Frank didn’t, though – he was a steady, reassuring presence as another wave of nausea washed over you. You didn’t realize it until the nausea had passed, but you’d patterned your breathing after his, matching the rise and fall of his chest in a rhythmic motion that momentarily stabilized you. 

Until he put more pressure on the wound. You unsuccessfully fought the dizziness off and ended up leaning almost your entire weight against Frank’s arm, blinking away the tears gathered in your eyes. He held you without complaint, though his usual hard-to-read expression had morphed into one of genuine concern. 

“How bad is it?” He scanned your body – your dry, cracked lips, the sweat beading at your forehead, the fingers digging into his arm.  

“Bad.” You croaked, squeezing your eyes shut and readying yourself for the additional pressure he was no doubt about to add.  

“Let me see those pretty eyes, sweetheart.” Frank cooed, shifting his arm so that you could rest your cheek against it. “I know it hurts, but you have to stay awake.” 

You blinked your eyes open and met his uneasy gaze. He watched you, waiting for you to catch your breath. You gave him a curt nod. There wasn’t much time left before Frank would have to take you to a doctor, and that was too dangerous of an option. He hesitated, tilting his head in question. 

“Do it.” You nodded again. 

He pressed the towel against your side, and you handled the blinding pain for all of 3 seconds before promptly passing out.  

- 

When you woke, you were immediately aware that a substantial amount of time had passed since the last time you’d been conscious. The mouthwatering scent of bacon wafted in the air, and you could hear Frank’s faint whistle floating through the kitchen, which told you he was cooking. Your side burned like nothing you’d ever experienced before, but subtle movements revealed the tight gauze that you assumed Frank had wrapped while you were knocked out. 

You slowly pushed yourself into a sitting position, noting the glass of water and tiny white pills on the bedside table. You swallowed the pills, trusting Frank enough to know they would help, and gulped down the water. 

“You want more?” His sudden appearance startled you, making you wince as your body jolted in surprise. He winced, too. “Shit. Sorry.” 

“Can you help me up?” You asked, gently setting your feet against the floor.  

Frank looked wary, noting how slow you were moving to avoid pain. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”  

“Frank,” you emphasized his name with your arms, shooting out toward his open palms, “I have to pee. Am I allowed to do that, or will you do that for me, too?” 

Frank’s cheeks tinged a slight pink, and he hurried to help you out of bed. He carefully pulled you to your feet, wrapping an arm around your waist to help you find your balance. You found that you liked the feeling of his arm there but wouldn’t be mentioning that anytime soon, especially not to Frank.  

Frank’s expression morphed into something unreadable, which wasn’t uncommon with him, but coupled with the fact that his arm was still pressed into your lower back, made it a bit troubling.  

“I don’t mean to tell you what to do,” he started, and you raised an eyebrow, “But next time, call me or something, okay? Don’t go it alone unless you have to.” 

“Why do you care?” It came out meaner than you intended. He did just (possibly) save your life, so maybe a lighter tone would’ve been more appropriate. 

“Do I need to answer that?” He looked away, shaking his head. Finally, he shrugged. “I don’t know, okay? But seeing you like that, bleeding all over the place and knocked out cold.” He shook his head again, more deliberately this time “It scared me.” 

You gaped at him for a long moment, but finally nodded, easing the building tension in the room. His arm was still draped across your back. A thought entered your mind, and a sly smile found its way onto your face. Frank looked at you, concerned all over again. 

“You’re telling me I scared the big, bad Punisher?” You squealed, smiling widely. The corners of Frank’s lips flicked up in a wry smile, and he let out a whispered snort at your delight.  

“You feelin’ good enough to eat somethin’, sweetheart?” he asked, unwrapping himself from around you. The warmth of his body against yours was immediately missed, and you wondered how long you’d have to wait until you felt it again. 

Your stomach growled, as if summoned by his question. A shy smile crossed your face, and he let out a low chuckle. “A little. How long did I sleep for?” 

“Fourteen hour-” 

“Fourteen hours?” You gasped, twirling around toward the kitchen. You winced at the movement, but it didn’t deter your stomach. “What are you waiting for, Frank? Feed me!”  

He stalked after you, grinning, all too eager to please.

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[the-greatest-magic-of-all]

You keep writing me things so I will write you a thing :3

For your Brave and Loyal Knight Au

It was dark, unnaturally dark in the middle of the day as the storm clouds lay thick and heavy blotting out the sun. Fabians boots clicking against the stone floor the only noise other than the rain and thunder audible in his secluded corner of the palace. The king swiftly making his way from his more public study and back towards his chambers now that his work was mostly done. He should have learned by now that he shouldn’t be relaxing until he knew he was completely safe but he had let his guard down. Too busy perusing the last report of the day that he needed to memorise before he could finally stop and rest for a while in the privacy of his own rooms.

It had happened so fast Fabian wasn’t sure exactly what had happened. A sudden flash of lightening dazzling him for a second before the accompanying rumble of thunder obscured the sound of the assassin’s approach. He hadn’t noticed but Riz certainly had, his knight slamming into his back and knocking him forwards so that the dagger aimed for his neck sailed over the top of his head. The goblin using his momentum to engage with the attacker.

There was a muffled ‘thump’ from somewhere between the tussling pair, Riz hissing loudly as the assassin managed to grapple him to the ground. They’d managed to get hands around his neck for only a brief second before there was the loud crack of an arcubus firing, the sound echoing off the stone floors as the larger of the pair (human, Fabian noted absently, Riz having managed to partially yank their mask off in their scuffle) slumped dead to the floor. The goblin using his legs to push them to one side as they fell so they wouldn’t land on top of him before stumbling to his feet. Hand clutching at the armour where Fabians seal was emblazoned on his chest as he panted and darted his head around searching for more attackers.

Fabian didn’t even have chance to call for more guards before the fight was over but the noise of the scuffle had been enough to alert them of the danger. Fabain swiftly pushing himself to his feet so none would be witness to him in such an undignified position and dusting off his robes. The King frowning and glancing down the corridor, noting that it really shouldn’t be taking this long for backup to arrive.

“There should have been more guards stationed here.” He frowned, kicking the assassin onto their back so he could get a better look at their face. There wasn’t much to see, Riz had managed to get a decent swipe with his claws in and they’d been disfigured beyond recognition by this point. ��Good work, nice to know you haven’t lost your touch.”

“The guards are probably dead… I smelled blood as we came around the corner.” Riz was still breathing heavily, claws digging into his armour and punching holes around the kings seal emblazoned there. His ears relaxed out of their high and alert position as reinforcements rounded the corner, large eyes flicking between faces as he took note of who each of them were and compared them to the database in his mind. These guards were trustworthy, he’d handpicked them himself. Fabian would be safe.

“Not so sure about the loosing my touch part though.” The goblins knees went weak once the adrenaline finally left, Riz only managing to half-collapse to the ground before Fabian caught him. The half elfs eyes going wide when he noticed the front of his dark armour was slick and wet with blood that was hard to see in the dim light.

Fabian had thought it strange that the assassin had tried to choke his knight to death but now that he was in this close he could see why. The sigil embroidered on his chest had been split cleanly in two, the snapped off blade of the dagger still embedded in the goblins chest probably the only thing keeping him from bleeding out faster but there was still a lot of blood.

“Get a healer. Now.” Fabian barked at the first guard who came close, the elf snapping into a salute before peeling away and heading for the healers quarters. Riz chuckling weakly and lowering his voice so that only Fabian could hear him when he talked.

“Composure, my King. Don’t let them see you so upset over something like this. It’s my job to throw myself on the enemy’s sword for you.”

Fabian clicked his tongue, carefully lifting Riz and handing him off to another of the guards when they stepped in close. Riz was right, letting anyone know how much he cared was a liability they could exploit.

“Take him. Get this mess cleaned up and fetch someone to revivify this one so we can find out where they came from. I will be in my quarters and I expect a report in two hours.” Fabian spun on his heels, waving two of the guards to follow him as he stalked away and down the corridor. Somehow managing to resist the urge to glance over his shoulder to watch the guard carrying Riz disappear in the opposite direction.

AHH! Thank you so much!! 💖💖

I, in turn, shall write even more!! Here's a bit of angst for you! But also some fluff at the end!

-- part 1 -> part 3 | part 4 --

Three things of note occurred in the days following the attack on the new King of Fallinel’s life.

One, Sir Riz Gukgak, was forced into a brief (and highly unwanted) sabbatical from his duties to the throne to recover from the dagger that had only just missed his heart.

Two, the recently revivified Human assassin had been locked up and under twenty-four-hour supervision in the palace’s dungeons as they tried to pry information on his employer from him.

And three, the King, now without his nohecharei, had a wake-up call about what his Grandfather had warned him of before his coronation.

Fabian had been eager to hear whatever wisdom Telemaine had thought it most urgent to depart on him, seeing as he had come all the way from Kei Lomenuera to the Capital to give it to him. What he got instead was far grimmer than Fabian had thought possible.

As tall and willowy as a tree in a forest primeval, Telemaine had never felt so immense and ancient as when he’d warned that if he were to become King, his life would never be his own. At the moment, Fabian hadn’t the slightest clue as to the full weight and depth of his Grandfather’s words. Having let them flow off of and away from him with a nod and a smile.

But now?

He got it.

He got it because…

Because…

Fabian could hear Sir Durden's footsteps.

Steady, not-so-soft clanks, only a few steps behind him as he went about his day. Truthfully, they weren't all that obtrusive and yet…

It’s not like Sir Maxis Durden was a horrible guard. Oh, no, perish the thought. Sure, he had a devil-may-care attitude and, on occasion, was a tad bit familiar with His Majesty, but, all things considered, Sir Durden did his job and did it well. Never late. Always on the lookout for danger. The Captain had assured him of the Guards that Durden was an adept Blade Pact Warlock of Eilistraee and, despite his reedy figure, could take down his fair share of enemies. Hell, Fabian even knew that it was Sir Durden who took over Riz’s duties for four hours during the night! It shouldn’t be as big of an issue!

Except…

He could hear Sir Durden’s footsteps. He could feel Durden’s eyes on him at what felt like every waking moment. Whenever Fabian turned around, Durden was always there. Even in his private study. Even in his bedroom. The Court of Stars demanded that the King never be alone for his safety, but only now, in the absence of Sir Riz, did Fabian realize how maddening of a rule it indeed was. Telemaine was right. His life was not his own because as long as he knew Sir Durden was guarding him, he’d never be anything but the King of Fallinel. He had to be dignified and competent. Well-mannered and never whiny. Never a fuck-up or a failure. He couldn’t be a person.

Lest he slip up and have one of his most charming guards’ opinion of him sour. Loose lips sink ships. The last thing he needed was Maxis blabbing about how ungrateful or idiotic the new King was to his mates. Next thing Fabian knows, there's a military coup. No doubt led or co-opted by House Everpetal. Ugh, it doesn’t bear thinking about.

By the end of the week, Fabian felt more exhausted than he ever had in his twenty years of life. Finding it harder and harder to keep his chin up and feet from dragging. He’d gotten lightly chastised by one of his advisors for repeating himself several times during a briefing on possibly receiving some of the Drow Royalty. Lady Everpetal had even felt bold enough to “jokingly” question his sanity after the attempt on his life. Calling him a Mad King in waiting.

Worse yet, Fabian had to swallow down the things he wanted to say about her, knowing he wouldn’t even get to say them in private to the sound of Riz’s delightful laughter…

He hadn’t even gotten a chance to go see him in the infirmary.

Umberlee below, he missed his best friend.

Missed him so much it physically hurt.

A pain in his chest.

Twists of his stomach.

More headaches than he’s ever had.

Honestly, they were so bad that, when Sir Durden’s clanking footsteps stopped abruptly on their way to a court function, Fabian hadn’t cared in the slightest. Not even when his addled brain had noted that his own footfalls had been the only ones he’d heard for minutes now. In perhaps idiotic defiance, he relished the thought of accidentally leaving Sir Durden behind and truly being alone for a handful of moments.

Though, he was to hasty to think that he was alone.

For only after the length of another corridor, Fabian found himself stopping as the faint sound of a nail—no, a *claw—*tapping on the metal pommel of a blade. Listening closer; the swish of lithe tail idly swaying back and forth. Fabian’s heart picked up speed, though he didn’t dare turn around. In fear that he was wrong and reluctance to possibly lose the little game of trust he and Riz played.

Instead, Fabian, a smile slowly begin to play on his lips, said to the hallway, “Good to have you back on your feet, Sir Gukgak.”

There’d never been a sweeter sound than Sir Riz’s voice ringing out behind him, “Good to be back, my King.”

A week’s worth of tension instantly fled from Fabian’s body as a sudden lightness overtook him. Fabian wanted to hug him. To turn, drop to his knees, and scoop Riz up in a tight, tight hug and never let him go. But, as a maid rounded the corridor’s corner and bowed to him before scurrying past, Fabian pushed it down. Steeling himself to hold out until later. When they could be alone together in his study or his bedchambers.

Until then, Fabian continued on his way to one of his ballrooms, a pep in his step and a smile on his face. If any of his servants or courtiers noticed how the King practically glowed with joy after the reappearance of his Knight, all of them had good sense not to comment.