#But he knew I had a crush on him before all of them

[rosenclaws]

Stronger || Logan Howlett x Reader

summary: after failing your last mission you start to over train yourself in secret but Logan notices the bruises and cuts and wont leave you alone about it.

warnings: angst to fluff, patching up fic, the reader is very hard on themselves, injury, blood, insecurity, sweet logan, reader pushes themself too much.

a/n: I had this idea at like 1:30am last night and I wrote it when i woke up oops. I just love fluffy patching up logan fics what can I say.

There it is again. Logan's nose twitches as you walk by. You smell like dirt and sweat but most of all blood. He locks eyes with you as you walk past the kitchen door.

Theres a limp in your step. It's subtle but there. You're wearing long pants and long sleeves despite it being hot outside and you're hiding your hands in your pockets. There's bags under your eyes and the smiles you give people aren't real.

Logan narrows his eyes at you and you look at the ground. Hurrying away from his pointed gaze. He wants to go after you but he hears your door slam and lock.

No one else has picked up on this except for him. He brings it up in passing but he's brushed off every time. Something is up with you and he's going to figure out what.

You sigh as you lean against your door. Your body aches like crazy and all you want to do is collapse onto the bed and sleep. But you force yourself to the bathroom. You need to scrub off all the evidence of everything from the night before. The blood and grime washed off but the bruises stayed.

"Damn." You mumbled as you took in the injuries from this time.

The person displayed in the mirror looked like a stranger. Your eyes were sunken, bruises on your body, you looked tired and felt worse. But you had to keep going. You needed to be strong, to prove yourself and this was the only way.

At least that's what you think. You crawl into bed and pass out the moment your head hits the pillows. Unfortunately the nightmares start then too.

You're back on your last mission. The whole reason you've been pushing yourself so hard. You were weak, lost, a burden to the team. You weren't like everyone else at the mansion. You didn't come here as a kid.

In fact you were well into your adult life when Professor Xavier found you. You had no training, no experience. You got stuck into classes with kids who had already mastered their powers. You felt silly, a fool to think you could be apart of this world. You didn't belong.

So when you got the chance to go on a mission you were excited. It means they thought you were ready, that you had something in you that could help.

The mission went terribly. You were overwhelmed and could barely keep up. Tackled to the ground you cried out in pain. A sharp blade against your neck caused you to freeze. You tried to conjure your energy blasts but a foot on your wrist stopped you. It was digging into you, crushing you. You closed your eyes as you braced yourself for what was to come.

It never does.

The pressure is released all at once as Logan tackled the man who was on you. Digging his claws into him until he's limp on the ground. He runs to you, checking you injuries. You couldn't speak. You couldn't warn Logan that someone else was coming. Then it all goes black. You're too late.

You sit up, Logan's name on the tip of your tongue as you wake up. Fuck. You take in your surroundings and try to calm down. Slowly sinking back into your bed. Reminding yourself that everything fine.

That the last mission didn't really end that way. Logan is okay, you're okay. But what if things had played out different.

If you could have held your own then Logan wouldn't have had to come to your rescue. He carried you back to the jet and while everyone was nice, you knew that you disappointed them.

You haven't been asked to go on a mission since. It hurt, you wanted to go. To be apart of the team. So you took it upon yourself to train. Your powers were trained in lessons with the professor but he never lets you go past a certain limit. So instead you decided to sneak out at night to the nearby forest and train there.

Honing not only your powers but your hand to hand combat as well. Trees were your only partners but it worked. They were strong and sturdy. Every night you'd sneak out. Practice with your powers which drained you and then practiced everything else after. It left you bloody and bruised but in your mind it was worth it.

Glancing at the clock you see that you've slept through most of the day. The sun had already set. Quietly you get dressed and sneak down the hallways. Most everyone was already in bed and if they weren't they were socializing in the living room. All you had to do was sneak by and you were home free for the night.

Laughter is the perfect distraction as you sneak past the doorway. Opening the door slowly and sneaking outside, running to the safety of the woods. What you don't notice is someone following you.

Logan caught your scent the second you stepped out of your room. Whether he wants to admit it or not he's always searching for you. He smelled your shampoo wafting past the door and eyed you outside. You were quick but he could still see you. Enough of this. Whatever the hell you were doing was killing you. Slowly but surely it was ruining you physically and mentally. He slipped away from the rest of the people in the living room and followed you.

As he got deeper in the woods he became worried, just what could you be doing out here? His ears perk up as he hears you. Peaking through the trees he finds you in a small clearing. You were clearly exhausted but you kept pushing. Creating energy from your finger tips and blasting them at a tall redwood.

Logan smells the blood that trickled from your nose. You were pushing yourself too hard. He's about to reveal himself when the loud creaking of a branch stops him.

You were too wrapped up in conjuring another blast that you don't notice a large tree branch cracking from the force of your powers. Logan springs in to action.

"Watch out!" He growls as he launches himself at you. Grabbing your body and wrapping himself around you the best he can. The branch falls right onto his back. It snaps in two as it falls to either side of you.

"Logan?! What are you doing here?" You ask as you stare at the fallen branch. Kicking yourself for not noticing it fast enough forcing Logan to put himself in danger for you again.

"What am I doing here? What the fuck are you doing out here?" He yells as he lets you go. Taking in just how bad you looked.

"What the hell is wrong with you? What if I wasn't here? What if that branch fell and hit you and no one would know that you were bleeding out in the fucking woods!" Logan snarls. His fear and worry being masked by anger. How could you be so reckless? So stupid?

"I didn't ask you to fucking follow me!" You bite back. Shame creeping up as he scolds you. Logan scoffs and grabs your face firmly.

"Do you even see yourself right now?" He grabs your wrist and holds it up. Staring at your bloody knuckles. It fucking hurts. It hurts for him to see you like this and it hurts him that you were doing this to yourself.

“You're tearing yourself apart, why?" The anger starts to fade, his real feelings breaking through.

"Because I'm weak." You admit, your voice cracking as the adrenaline starts to drain. Instead being replaced but complete and utter exhaustion.

"What?" Logan asks in disbelief.

"I failed the last mission, I could have gotten you hurt, I was a liability. If I got stronger, If I was better."

"Stop. Just stop. You really think all that?" Logan has let go of you by now, his eyes are looking at all your bruises. All the damage you've done to yourself.

"You don't?" You ask, afraid of his answer.

He doesn't say a word. Instead he takes your holds your hand, you try to ignore the butterflies growing in your stomach as he leads you back to the mansion. Taking you up to his room where he pulls out a first aid kit.

He doesn't need one but every room has one, of course you had already used up all of yours. Silently he patches you up, wrapping your knuckles in bandages and wiping up the blood from your nose.

"If you wanted train you could have come to one of us, to me." He should have noticed sooner, said something. Stopped you from doing this to yourself.

"I thought I had to do it on my own."

"You don't. It took me a while to figure it out too but you don't." He would be a hypocrite to scold you for going off alone but he doesn't really care.

"I'm sorry." You mumble. Logan cups your face and to your shock kisses your forehead gently.

"Don't ever do this again do you hear me." Logan can help you, he can protect you.

"I won't." You promise him. He smiles and picks you up.

"Logan!" You yelp as he drops you into his bed.

It smells just like him and you can't deny the instant comfort that comes over you as you snuggle into his sheets.

"You're going to rest for the next week. Anything you need you just call alright?"

"But what-" He stares at you and you stop talking, he wasn't fucking around about this.

"When you're healed and rested. Then we can train together." He doesn't leave room for argument, not that you wanted to argue with him anyways but still.

"Thank you Logan...You didn't have to do this."

He could have turned his head, pretended he never saw anything. Its what you expected him to do if you were being honest. But he didn't. He saw you struggling, pushing yourself and he couldn't let you hurt yourself any longer. He cared about you, a lot.

"I know." He says simply.

"Will you stay, while I sleep. I've been getting these nightmares and well..." Logan nods his head.

He shuts off the lights and crawls into bed with you. Kind of, more like he's half hanging off the edge of the bed. But you're comfortable and that's good enough for him.

It doesn't take long for you to fall asleep. The comforting aura of Logan was enough. He hums as you curl closer to him. Logan chasing away any nightmares that threaten to hurt you and for the first time in a while your dreams are quiet.

A smile on your face as peace finally overcomes your dreams.

[wndrhyuka]

thoughts about fwb wonu who’s down baaaaad and you might never know if not for the little things he does to show you ☝️😩

this is so clear to me too anon because wonu can’t help but show affection, it will show somehow fr

warnings: nsfw college au! rough wonu fem reader

wonu and his 12 other frat brothers love to host parties, which is actually how you met.

that night he took you upstairs to his room, flashing a filthy smirk at whichever frat bro saw him guiding you upstairs.

he fucked you with the least amount of intimacy or gentleness, leaning towards being rougher with you. doggy on his mattress, palm pressing your face into its softness, spanking you until your ass was red for his pleasure only, and finishing on your back.

your pussy alone was the best he’d ever had. tight, slick, gummy walls engulfed his length completely and he was an utter mess above you. he wouldn’t let you see it, of course, having to maintain his reputation of casual hookups meaning nothing and never craving a previous partner after already fucking them.

after that party, it was only then he realized how often he saw you in his day to day life. three times a week in one of his classes, on the same routes to nearby buildings, in the campus cafe around the same times. it was you all along that he’d seen around.

so he gains the courage to “formally” introduce himself, still keeping up his nonchalant manner, and ask for your number. “if you ever need some relief you can just text me, yeah?” he spoke a simple code you understood. and you agreed.

after each hookup, he got more intimate. switching from doggy to cowgirl to missionary. going from spanking you to leaving hickeys to kissing while fucking you. it used to be you asking when to hookup until he started asking too, but more frequently.

you didn’t even bat an eye at his shift in behavior, only seeming to notice that the sex was just that much more enjoyable.

poor wonu wondered if he went too far when he bought you a drink, unasked for, and gave it to you in class.

“got this for you,” he’d mutter offhandedly while placing the cup on your desk.

you quirked a brow and saw his expression turn defensive.

“i-i mean you were just saying how late you’d been studying so… i figured i might as well get you a coffee while i was getting one too,” he spits.

“but you don’t have a coffee?” you spoke, noticing his bare hands and desk.

his eyes widen before saying, “i… finished mine already, hah,” he coughs and faces forward in the lecture, realizing he was caught slipping.

the careless seeming frat boy had a little crush on his fwb and knew he would get teased if any of his bros heard about it so he kept it a secret. but he simply couldn’t hide just how much he craved you. he might not have been dating you, but being with you in any capacity was enough for him.

(sorry if this isn’t what u were aiming for anon i think i got carried away T^T)

[autonomousroboticorganism]

sparkmate (TF One Sentinel Prime)

pairing - Sentinel Prime x F!Reader

summary - Sentinel has never showed any interest in sparkmates, or at least that's what you assumed. turns out, you're wrong.

warnings - another mech pushes you/slight violence

a/n - i am delusional when it comes to this bot so expect a lot of delusional fluff about him in the coming days

Arrogant. Narcissistic. Obnoxious.

These were all words that could be used to describe Sentinel Prime. Along with crazy, weird and insufferably handsome. You couldn't imagine there being any femme who wasn't crushing on the leader of Iacon, and you were no exception.

But it wasn't like you could ever mean anything more than an advisor, a friend, to him. Because he didn't pursue romantic relationships, as far as you knew. It was an unfortunate fact you would have to live with, made difficult by being in his presence all the time. Everyday.

You watched your friends find sparkmates, and felt happy for them. Though every time they tried to set you up, it ended in disaster.

You only had one mech in mind, and that was Sentinel Prime.

It was just so hard to get his attention.

You various attempts didn't work, and you had pretty much given up and resigned the idea of ever being his sparkmate when something you did unintentionally got his attention.

You were talking to one of his elite guards, discussing some new security measures, when that guard began to hit on you. You, not knowing he was flirting, carried on speaking to him, accepting his compliments thinking they were said kindly.

Sentinel was looking for you, wanting a second opinion on his new paintjob, but that quickly darkened into wanting to get you away from that guard asap when he saw what was going on. The Prime was easily jealous, especially when it came to things, and a certain Cybertronian, that belonged to him.

"(Name)!" He called cheerily, but when he grabbed your arm his touch was anything but cheerful. It was hard, almost hurtful, as he pulled you away from the brave guard. "Let him know he's fired, later."

You gaped at the Prime, "What? Why? It wasn't even his mistake-"

"You misunderstand, dear (Name)," his voice was sickly sweet, like something malicious lurked behind his tone. "He's not fired because of that."

But he didn't elaborate, he simply kept leading you away from the guard. Away from all his guards, in fact. To a much more private area of his tower, one that had your jaw dropping when you entered. You never thought you'd ever see it.

His berthroom.

"Uh, what are we-"

He cut you off, "I heard your friends have started looking for a sparkmate for you. Do you want one?"

"I, um-" Being here was disorienting enough, but his question completely took you out. You didn't think he'd ask that, let alone care about your love life.

"Do you," He moved closer, repeating himself but slower, "want one, (Name)?"

Your processor whirled, trying to figure out what to say. You didn't know what the right answer was to that, or what his reaction would be if you admitted the truth, that you did want one.

So you did the next worst best thing.

You said, "I want you."

Then you clapped a servo over your intake, optics going wide. It took Sentinel a minute to process what you had just blurted out, before he smiled.

"Naturally."

"Look, Sentinel-"

"Open up," he tapped your chassis, and began to do so with his.

Your optics widened even more, and slowly you opened your chassis up. Your spark buzzed excitedly being so close to his, and when he moved closer to you there was no hesitance and no resistance in the bonding process.

When it was over, and your sparks were back in their chambers, you stared at him in disbelief. Not only had you just become his sparkmate, but you felt all the possessiveness he felt over you.

"Perfect!" He beamed, "Now I don't have to worry right? You're mine, and only mine."

"Worry..?"

Sentinel could be a lot sweeter and softer than most would assume. He was an egotistical maniac, of course, but your bond revealed all the affection and love he felt for you.

"Enough. Stop working, sweetspark."

Sentinel pulled you away from what you were doing simply to hold you. He loved attention, especially from you, and right now he needed yours.

"But Sentinel, you wanted-"

"That can wait."

His arms wrapped entirely around your frame, pulling you against his chassis as he buried his faceplates in your neck cables.

"This feels good."

You felt your faceplates heat up, "Yes, it does."

"We should do this more often," he pulled away with a very cheerful smile.

"Sentinel, have you never been given a hug..?"

"If you mean what we just did, then no," he shrugged it off like it was nothing. "I haven't exactly been close to anyone, in case you didn't notice."

"Hmm," you hummed, then hugged him again.

Once he realised touch was a sign of affection, you noticed him do it a lot more. From placing a servo on your lower back to holding your servo, Sentinel had to be touching you in some way.

Primus forbid anyone else touch you, though.

"(Name)! It's been so long!"

Before you could even register who the voice had come from, a mech was in front of you and reaching out to hug you. You stepped back, a bit uncomfortable when you saw that it was one of the mechs your friends had set you up with.

"Oh, uh, hi," you greeted uncertainty. You looked around, hoping this wouldn't get Sentinel's attention. Because this really was nothing.

The mech grinned, "So I've been thinking...last time was fun, right? I enjoyed myself, you enjoyed yourself...why don't we try again?"

"Actually I'm Sentinel Prime's..." You trailed off when he began to look afraid, and your frame went rigid when you saw a familiar shadow engulf the shaking mech. "Sentinel."

"My love!" He exclaimed dramatically, making sure to shoot the other mech a glare before grabbing your chin and pulling your face towards his. He kissed you possessively, putting on a show for the mech who'd tried to touch his sparkmate. "My name sounds so good when you say it, you know that?" He mumbled as he pulled away.

The mech was long gone. But so was Airachnid.

"What are you going to do to him?"

"What do you mean?" Sentinel smiled, digits ghosting over your jawline.

"..."

"Although, it was nice to hear you say you're mine."

"I tell everyone that."

"Really? Even better!"

He may have odd ways of showing it, but he genuinely cared for you. He genuinely loved you, even if he didn't know how to express it very well.

Not many dared to hurt you after word spread of you being Sentinel's sparkmate, but the few brave ones who tried?

Disappeared without a trace.

"You rejected me? Me?!" Another one of your failed attempts at dating approached you one day, anger written all over his faceplates.

Your eyes widened, but you didn't have the time to react since he was already so close. His hands shoved your chassis, leaving a few scratches, and you tumbled backwards onto the ground. Also leaving scratches.

Everyone nearby froze. Not because your sparkmate was approaching, but because of the mere consequences this mech would face when Sentinel found out.

"(Name), why did I have to learn from Airachnid that you were harmed today?" Sentinel asked when he entered your shared berthroom.

"It was nothing," you told him, turning to face him.

He looked genuinely concerned, and you thought your optics were deceiving you. Until he inspected you upon reaching you.

"Scratches aren't nothing," he glared at the marks. "Who did this?"

You relented and gave him the name and description of the mech. There was no use trying to stop him, he would just find out from Airachnid anyway.

"Are you even going to tell me what you have planned for that one?"

"Let's go get you a nice new finish! Maybe my colours?"

You literally become his prized possession. All he asks for in return is your undying love and affection, which you already give him. Sentinel might seem self-absorbed and uncaring, but with you, his precious sparkmate, he's the opposite, and more.

[truearchangel]

ㅤHe supposed that made sense and it seemed like Alastor had a very deep connection to Cannibal Town. One that went further than even just being friends with the local Overlord of the area. An interesting fact he was tucking into his back pocket.

ㅤAlthough he didn't think Alastor just frequented Cannibal Town because it was an easy place to get the food he wanted, he didn't know the other spent more time here for the sake of friendship. At an innitial glance, in the time they spent together, he had honestly thought that if Alastor did have friends—it wasn't very many. A fact he could relate to himself, and one that might still be true. Michael knew personally that when you had power? People tended to use you or abuse you for it.

ㅤHe wouldn't doubt that was something the Radio Demon was intimately familiar with either. Espeically with the way some demons seemed to watch him. Lustful, hungry.

ㅤWhen the question turned to being about Heaven it was something he latched onto easily, his posture straightening slightly as he turned his head a bit to glance in Alastor's direction. This was a topic that became more buisnessesque for him, something that was easy for him to ramble information off for.

ㅤ"When it comes to matter of Hell, when things like that are brought to my attention, you can guess it isn't for a purpose of just wondering what your favorite sinner to snack on is." Meaning, he didn't hear about Alastor to see if his radio show was interesting or not. "We, and I mean myself and my brothers obviously, met and voted on if I should kill you or not." It should make sense too. A new sinner? With power? Rapidly gaining more? Taking out some of the strongest overlords in Hell?

ㅤThat sounds like a threat.

ㅤ"I told them to wait, to see what you did with all the power you were claiming. If you went after Lucifer and he didn't kill you? I'd have crushed your soul without a single moment of hesitation. If you just continued killing overlords and sinners? Less work for us. If you tried to go for Heaven? If that was even a possibility? Death." He shrugged, as if he wasn't discussing Alastor's fate that had unknowingly laid in his hands.

ㅤ"Instead, you seemed to settle down, vanished entirely for some time, and I forgot that was even something to think about." Off of his mind that quickly, as if he had never been there.

ㅤ"Now that I've met you personally, I think you're funny. Clearly the entertainment form you have chosen is something you're good at. You have a very lovely voice, one that does work for radio, and a passion for what you do. A talented musician who should do more with that and when it's genuine—a very nice smile. I can see quite easily why people are drawn to you and I think that works for you. Perhaps to well, since I can see it's probably something you've taken advantage of before. How easily you lure people in."

ㅤPausing in his steps he turned to face Alastor fully. "But you could do to let some of those walls down. Since at the same time, as easily as you pull people in, you can push them away too."

"It says you are understanding of the fact that every living thing needs to eat in some way, shape, or form. And given that you brought the thing to life, it's your responsibility to feed it, regardless of what it requires to do so."

Easy as. Though he could not say much about what it meant for Michael to linger in Hell for longer than was strictly necessary. If his goal was to 'learn', then surely, he was learning quite a bit that he could take back. Had he not come to the conclusion yet that there was something worth saving rather than subjecting both realms to some manner of war?

Deeper than he wanted to go at the moment, head tilting slightly towards the other as he continued to walk at an even pace.

"Cannibal Town is one of the first places I discovered when I arrived in Hell," he stated matter-of-factly. "I think there is a camaraderie there that is hard to find elsewhere in the Pentagram. Consuming flesh is still a taboo in many places - so it makes more sense for individuals who engage in it to stick together. From there - and with Rosie's leadership - they've formed quite the community amongst themselves." And he an honorary member among them.

That Heaven had heard of him, however, was somewhat interesting. And not something that he had considered before, his ear flicking as he spared a sidelong glance down at Michael. He did not divert from his course, though he said nothing as the other continued, casual when he finally did speak, though there was a tenor of seriousness in his formerly casual tone.

"I am flattered."

As if he did not have a large enough target on him.

Briefly, his mind flitted to his mother. A practical Mother Teresa in her day - there was no question that she must have been in Heaven. Maybe not as anyone significant - not even a known individual. But she was there.

What he wouldn't give...

Alastor's claws gave a twitch, but otherwise, the thoughts remained secured in his head.

"And what did you think of me then versus what you think of me now?"

[thestarlitmidnight]

✨ Rewrite the Stars ✨

Summary: Being mated to Feyre doesn’t stop Rhysand to seek comfort from his former lover Y/N. One more night, that became their mantra. Fandom: ACOTAr Pairing: Rhysand X Y/N Warnings: Mention of explicit content, be aware of that and consider being 15+ before reading this. Word Count: 3 902 Previous Chapter Master List

Chapter 3

The autumn sun was low and hidden behind a heavy cloud. The air was getting colder. 

Perfect weather for outside training. One does not need to sweat their ass out in leathers while the sun is frying you. When it's chilly outside, the fighting leathers are perfect, keeping you warm enough without the need to sweat and smell. 

Right now, I was fighting with Az, testing our sword skills. 

With Az, it was always so easy to train. He was focused on the training and did not talk a hole into your head. Not like Cass or others, who loved to add to the sound of colliding steel their comment and small talk. 

Truth be told, with sword fight, it was impossible to beat Az, he was way too strong, quick and skilled. When it comes to hand-to-hand combat, or even daggers, he gets his ass kicked, but not with swords. 

Another reason why I wanted to test my sword skills with him. I need to put my whole focus into the fight to have even a chance to keep up with him. This way my mind does not have any spare time to be bombarded with unwanted thoughts. 

And there were a lot of them. 

But Azriel decided to break the code today, out of all of the days, and he spoke up. 

"Y/n, I am worried," his hazel eyes were glued on my face, but he did place an attack on my right side. 

"About?" I gritted through my teeth and quickly blocked the attack with the sword, my wing needed to flex a little into the other side, to keep my balance.

"You," he effortlessly blocked my own attack on his thigh. 

I simply rolled my eyes at him and did not reply. My sword started to place attack after attack, trying to break through his defences.

"I know what is happening," he simply said in a low tone, still watching me with these cryptic eyes. 

"I have no idea what you are talking about," I swirled on the other side of him and tried to place a hit on his left side, but he blocked it once again. 

He and his shadows. They always cheat, I am sure of it.

"Y/n, don't play dumb, it doesn't suit you," his eyebrows crushed together with distaste. 

I did not reply, waiting for him to elaborate on what he indeed knew about. It can be quite a lot of things, and I prayed he would come up with anything else than the truly concerning thing. 

"Tell me, why do my shadows report to me that they spotted Rhysand visiting your house?" He went directly to the point, and I growled as my hands started to shake from the effort to block his now stronger attacks. 

"He is my friend; he comes to chat," I lied skillfully, swirling away from him to create a little space between us so I could catch my breath. 

"Liar," he said with an even voice, allowing me to get a little break. "Do you guys chat before or after he has you bend over the desk in his study?"

My eyes shot up to him, now full of warning. Those fucking shadows of his. 

"You are poking your shadows into things that are not your concern," I replied with a stern voice, dismissing any possibility to dive into this topic deeper with him. 

"He is mated, Y/n; this is not going to end well for anyone involved," his face was covered in concern, no distaste or judgment, no, Az would never judge me or Rhys; he was just worried. 

And that made me furious. I crossed the space between us and started to dance with our sword clinging once again.

"Do you think, Az, that I am not aware of  that?" I growled at him and went with way more force into the attacks than before. "I would love to see you act differently in my shoes." 

Azriel, without as much a breaking sweat, knocked the sword from my hands and had me pinned down, his own sword on my neck.

"I would not act differently, but it is not fair to you," he informed me with his eyes glued on mine and his sword still on my neck. "I want you to know that if things get out of hand and you need someone to talk to, I am here for you; you are my little sister, Y/n, you are not alone."

My eyes started to water at his words, and when he helped me back up on my feet, I wrapped my hands around his neck and hugged him, thankful for him. At least one brother still considered me as his sister. Cass was way too invested in his mating bond to still have space for me in his life, but Az was always there for me. When shit hit the fan, he was by my side through the hardest times as much as he was through the best. Just like Rhys and Amren. 

"Angel, tell me, why did you start to take your little experiment alongside you to train?" Rhys walked into the rooftop, in his arms my misplaced cat. 

"Patchy! What are you doing here, baby?" I let go of Az, but not before I placed a thankful kiss on his cheek and went to snatch the creature out of Rhysand's hands. 

"For the love of the Mother, what is this?" Azriel walked closer to us, his eyes taking in the ugly cat. 

"Cat maybe? Or something that wandered into Velaris down from the mountains. I am still trying to figure that out," I scratched the head of Patchy. "How did you get here, Patchy? "

"You did not take it up here with you?" Rhys raised his eyebrows, eying the cat with curiosity. 

"No, and before you come up with some wildly ridiculous theory, she probably just hide in my training bag," I gave Rhys a pointed look, stopping any wild theories about my cat being able to winnow or something equally stupid. 

"It looks all weird," Az poked the bigger ear of the cat with his finger.

"I know, but it gives her a charisma," I laughed at the stunned expression of the shadowsinger; it takes a lot to surprise someone like him. 

"It is a mentally unstable thing, which loves to interrupt when it should not," Rhys grumbled, eying the cat like his enemy. 

That made me laugh. Patchy indeed had a terrible habit of interrupting us during sex. She would come and go after Rhys' feet, or straight out jump into the bed and slap him across his face. There was an occurrence where Rhys was fucking me over the counter in my kitchen just before the diner, and Patchy, with all the limping, managed to climb up to the shelves and push a glass bowl down on his head. 

Safe to say, that Patchy developed a way to make Rhys mighty fate her.

I looked up at Rhys, then at Az, back to Rhys, raising my eyebrows up. This was a kind of comment that I did not expect to hear from Rhys in front of a member of our family. 

"Az came to me first," Rhys sighed, brushing his hand over his jaw, where I just noticed a bruise that was fading quickly. 

Illyrian males and their inability to talk things out without using their fists. 

"Was it necessary to beat him, Az?" I raised my hand and tilted Rhys' head to the side, taking a better look at his jaw. "You know his pretty face is what I like about him the most." 

"Y/n, angel, that is a lie," Rhys charmed a cheeky smile, and he greatly enjoyed my fingers brushing across his jaw. 

Az just shook his head and laughed. "I forgot how annoying you two can be."

"Don't pretend that you did not miss it," I called after Az, who walked to the weapon rag, placing the sword back into its place and letting Rhys take me into his arms. 

"I did not say that," Az looked over his shoulder, giving both of us a warm, pleased smile. 

"Does anyone else know or suspect, or is it only you?" I asked Az, while tilting my head to the side because Rhys decided to sneak a few kisses on my neck. 

"Amren knows," Rhys replied before Az could open his mouth, his lisp brushed over my neck as he spoke. 

That did not surprise me. I knew that Amren at least suspected something. 

"Others have no clue," Az added, resting against the wall, his hands came to rest over his chest. 

"And it will remain this way till it is handled," Rhys placed a quick kiss on top of my wing and took Patchy from my hands, who shortly after disappeared into thin air. "She is waiting for you back at home; we have things to tend to."

"Rhys! She will be moody! That cat hates winnowing!" I scolded him and stepped on his feet, pissed that I would need to deal with a broody cat once I was back home. 

"That cat is not that often present; if you will be lucky, she will be broody on one of her endless adventures and come back home only hungry," Rhys dismissed my scolding and winked, leading me to the kitchen with his hand around my waist, that had tendencies to fall way too low to be considered polite. 

That was true. Patchy loved to explore. She spent more time out than indoors. No matter how misplaced and strangely shaped she was, that weird cat was exploring the world all the time. 

"I need you and Az to look into something; there are whispers that someone is wielding unknown magic in the Autumn Court," Rhys let go of me and went to sit behind the high table.

"Perfect," I sighed and looked at Az with poorly hidden despair. 

I hated the residents of Autumn Court. They were pompous, arrogant idiots with a god complex, always thinking they were better than others. 

What was worse, they rarely lent a helping hand, which meant whoever was cursed to tend to a mission there was always on their own accord, with no outside help. 

Az had trouble keeping his spy network there, and it is no secret that most of the expenses on the spies were pouring into the pockets of poorly willing people in the Autumn Court, who provided us back with half-truths, twisted information, and unreliable intel. But still, it's better than nothing. 

The only person in the whole damn Autumn Court who cared enough to provide us with useful intel was Eris, who might be an ass, but he had his highlight moments sometimes. 

In fact, I have seen Rhys in him sometimes. They both had similar qualities. Few differences were there, for example, that Eris did not have a good circle of his trusted friends and family. He was alone in a pretty tight system his father set, and he needed to orient through it all without any backup or outside help. 

Feyre walked into the kitchen then, looking over the three of us with something unreadable in her eyes. She carried herself with tension in her shoulders and a way too straight spine. Then her eyes ended on Rhysand, and she went right to him, placing a kiss on his lips. 

I fought a need to roll my eyes and chose to look at Az, who provided the two with privacy as well, looking back at me with those knowing eyes. I turned my back to them and crunched my nose at Az, making a face to shake the irritation out of my system. 

"What are you three doing?" Feyre asked with a way too light voice. 

I did turn only when Az made an effort to discreetly nod for me to turn around, and with a suppressed sigh, I did.

That viper was sitting way too close to Rhys for my liking. A mighty furry raised in my chest at the sight of his arm resting on his thigh.

What did not help me at all was the fact that his hand was wrapped around her shoulder, holding her close to himself. The same fucking way he held me a little ago. 

I felt sick. 

It took all of my self-control to not walk to that damn thief and not throw her off the cliff. It would do nothing. She can summon wings. I kept reminding myself of this fact. It would only piss everyone off and make this whole situation a lot worse and complicated. 

"Az and Y/n will need to go into the Autumn Court. There are whispers about an unknown magic being wielded there, and we need to investigate," Rhys replied, his voice even. 

I fought the urge to have my eyes glued to his hand resting around her shoulders. To stop myself from willing it not to move. To not caress her skin.

"Eris will be happy to see Y/n," Az said, his shadows moving around him in calm manners. 

I raised my eyebrow at him, a smug smirk landing immediately on my lips. I knew where he was going with this and I loved every fucking second of that. 

"He will, won't he? Last time we saw each other, he was promising me the title of the Lady of the Autumn Court," I mused back to him, purposely ignoring the burning stare from our High Lord. 

A little fact about Eris. He loved fierce, independent females. Those, he knew he couldn't  have. It was like a hunt for him. A challenge that he very gladly accepted and bathed in the thrill of it. He loved hunting, his favourite pastime, so it should not come as a surprise to anyone that he enjoyed hunting his females as well.

"I will bet ten golden marks that he will bring another priceless gift; my guesses are on another dagger," Az noted to me, looking all innocent as he did so. 

I always knew that Az would have my back. He must have seen how off track the sight of Rhys and Feyre set me, so he found effortlessly a way to turn this into torture of Rhys instead of me. 

"Make it twenty and that he will straight out propose to her at least once," Cassian walked into the kitchen as well. 

He came back from Illyria, where he was training with his soldiers, and he looked like that. Sweaty and with messy hair, which stuck out of his bun. 

"Not the proposal, please; it was enough the last time!" I rolled my eyes and smiled at Cassian. 

"Did I miss something? Since when does Eris fancy Y/n?" Feyre looked between us, her face confused, while her damn fingers darted to Rhys' hair with her eyes ending on me while she brushed them. 

"Let me guess..." Cassian made a thinking face. "Az, care to help me? You remember the dates better."

"Since the day she kicked his ass on one of the meetings, I would say at least a hundred years," Az replied right away, a light smile crossing his lips. 

"You did what?" Feyre's eyes went wider.

I only raised my eyebrows at her, but did not reply; if I did, only cursed words would fall from my lips at her direction. 

"He was ass, talking shit about Rhys, it was only natural she kicked his ass, Rhys would get into trouble for doing that, but nobody would dare to talk shit about Y/n for defending her-," Cass waved with his hand, walking to the sink to pour himself some water. 

"Cass, did you forget that it was you, who did not hesitated to push me away and finish him yourself?" I smoothly interrupted him, he and his big mouth can sometimes get tricky to control. 

"And you are surprised? Nobody will talk like this about my brother and little sister," he gave me a duh face, completely unaware that he was speaking about things that are not to be spoken of in front of the little viper. 

"What did he said about them?" Feyre was now looking between me and Rhys with curiosity. 

"Nothing that is your concern," Rhys replied to her, his voice firmer. "I was not aware that it was necessary to meet with Eris at the mission you will have."

Rhys looked tense. His jaw was tightly set and those violet eyes of his were holding frustration that was contained only be the sheer will of his. 

"It is certainly necessary. Eris is the only one who has the best intel, if someone is wielding strange magic in his court, he will know it," I said with a light smirk on my lips. "And it will be  nice to see him again. Do you think Az, that he practiced those dagger skills?" 

"He? Yeah, for sure, he is probably eager to show them off to you," Az smiled fully in return, his eyes shining now with mischief. 

"Will you reward him if he did?" Cassian chimed, wiggling his eyebrows. "I always knew you were made for greatness,Y/n, now that the air is clear for him, who knows, maybe you will indeed become Lady of the Autumn." 

That made me chuckle. 

It was a solid possibility to take and get out of here. My social standing will only benefit and I will get rid of the sight of Feyre clinging to Rhys at any opportunity she gets. 

"We will see how things play out," I replied with light voice, my eyes finding the violet gaze. 

He got the message. I am sure of it. And I am sure as hell that there will be a nasty fight over this. 

"Y/n, Autumn, really? Come one, you yourself know how stupid of idea that would be," Rhys cannot hold this remark to himself and it stirred satisfaction in me, soothed the painful ache in my chest a little. 

"Why would it be? If Y/n thinks it will make her happy, she has a free will to decide and do not need to ask for permission from you all," Feyre proclaimed eagerly, surprising me with this. 

Is she by any means eager to get rid of me? 

"Feyre darling, Y/n hates Autumn, it would be concerning if she would ever choose to permanently reside there, especially with someone like Eris, who doesn't have the slightest idea about how to handle someone like our angel," Rhys' voice was clipped, tightly controlled as he spoke, his eyes now glued permanently on me, ignoring his precious mate wholly. 

A thing Feyre noticed and did not liked at all, judging by the shift of her body language. She moved her fingers from his hair down to his neck, stroking the sensitive skin there, hoping to get his attention back. 

"Maybe, but did you forget that it is not only Eris, who decided to court our little sister?" Cassian send Rhys a cheeky grin, his chest puffing with pride. 

It was kind of endearing. Cass truly thought that me and Rhys split up and it was done. That I accepted the fact he is mated and he probably believed that I will start moving on with my life as well. He was willing to see me go and settle anywhere as long as I will be happy. 

"He is not?" Feyre's eyes once again widen and her voice was coloured by poorly controlled irritation mixed with hope. 

"Y/n is a hot stuff you know. Last time I spoke with Helion, he was dreaming out loud about finally having opportunity to court her," Cassian's eyes practically shined with excitement. "In my opinion, Helion is better choice than Eris, but who is also in game is Tarquin, but considering how much you hate the sun, he will have little to none chance to get you reside in his shiny palace."

I cannot help and laugh a little. 

It was ridiculous. Truly. Once the news that I am no longer with Rhys got out, they all loose it. Males can be sometimes truly precious. 

"If they all are so interested in her, why they did not courted her already?" Feyre demanded, her face coloured with strange emotions, ones I cannot put together what they meant. 

What? Was she pissed that she is not the one, who is seek out by them? Is she jealous that she is not the one, who stirs this kind of desire from those powerful males? 

A little reality check for her I guess. It will serve her well.

"Very obviously because Rhysie would cut theirs dicks if they did?" Cass shoot back, without any hesitation, leaving us no opportunity to stop him from finishing this dman sentence. 

"And why would he care?" She straightened her spine and she looked at Cassian with demanding look. 

"Are you kidding me? Why would he care? Feyre, he -" Cassian opened that big mouth of his once again, but Rhys stopped him.

"We are getting away from the point of this conversation," Rhys snapped, his voice tight. "Azriel and Y/n are going to Autumn today, I will see you both before you go, we need to clear some things up." 

When he said meet you both, his eyes were glued on me. It was clear message that he will have things to discuss with me. 

Cauldron, I do not have any desire to argue with him before I will be leaving for a mission. It always brought bad amens with it. 

"Well, I don't think any heads up are needed, we can get going right away, right Az?" I turned to look at the shadowsinger, my back turning once again to the pair sitting way too close together. 

I cannot have a fight with him before the mission. There will be no time to make it alright again and I know that once I am away, he will be spending time with Feyre. It would keep eating me alive. The whole damn time when I am supposed to focus, he will be all I could think about and that means trouble. 

Distraction during mission equal problems. Always. 

I would see them together, just like in my nightmares, where he holds her so close to himself, the way he used to hold me. He would whisper sweet words into her ear, while tracing his hands across her body, making her giggle. He would promise her a future, that once was supposed to be ours. He would tell her about his dreams to have family of his own. How he dreamed for centuries about starting a family with his girl after the world will calm down a bit. 

No. I cannot do this and so I gave Azriel a pleading look, hoping he will once again back me up. 

"Of course, we will report once we know something," Az replied right away, walking towards me, gently taking my elbow into his arms. "Do not worry, I will make sure Eris does not misbehave way too much." 

With that, he let his shadows swipe us away from the kitchen. It was a good thing that his little secret of being about to trespass the wards set upon the House of Winds, blew up a few months ago. It allowed him to simply take us away without leaving any space for more pointless chatting and arguing from Rhys.

Tag-List: @sillyfreakfanparty @zou-rs @sttvrdustt @daughterofthemoons-stuff @stonerpersona @j-pendragonx @barb00235 @booksbypisces @thelov3lybookworm @darkbloodsly

[nausicaamusiclover20]

So, apparently my crush on James reached the stage when just reading stories isn’t enough, I have to start requesting them)))

Black album James x ballerina reader (pretty please smut), where he’s just obsessed with their size difference and the fact that she’s very flexible? Like she pretty much drowns in his shirts, her hands are fragile compared to his, etc? one day, he comes to hotel after sound check and sees her doing her stretches in his shirt and her pointe shoes and that’s too much for him? He just has to make love to her? Maybe he is making references to Beaty and the beast ballet? Like James, the beast (metal band, rough guy, always grumpy) finally captured his beauty and will not let her go?

Thank you))

I hope you like it!❤

Warnings: Explicit Content,Adult Themes, Sexual Content light Possessiveness, Physical Intimacy

___________

In the Arms of the Beast

I didn’t hear the door open—I was too lost in my stretches, the slow pull of muscles and the grounding rhythm of my breath keeping me focused. The air in the hotel room was still, save for the faint rustle of fabric as I moved. James’s shirt, massive on me, slipped over one shoulder as I bent forward, palms flat against the floor.

The shirt smelled like him—leather, a touch of smoke, and something warm I could never quite name. It made me feel wrapped in him, even when he wasn’t here.

I was midway through a stretch, my legs extended in a perfect split, when a familiar growl broke the silence.

“You trying to kill me, darlin’?”

I jerked upright, my heart skipping a beat. Turning my head, I found him standing there, his broad frame nearly filling the doorway. His boots were still on, his hair slightly mussed from the day’s soundcheck, and his eyes… Oh, God, his eyes. They were locked on me like a predator that had found its prey.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” I said, my voice softer than I meant it to be.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He didn’t move, just stood there, drinking me in. His gaze traveled slowly, lingering on my legs, then the shirt that barely reached the tops of my thighs. His expression darkened, his lips curling into a crooked grin that sent a shiver down my spine. “Hell of a sight to walk into.”

Heat flooded my face, and I tried to play it off, standing and brushing down the oversized shirt. “I was just stretching.”

“Stretching,” he repeated, his voice low and rough, like gravel under heavy boots. He finally moved, stepping closer, and my pulse quickened. “You look like you’re dancing for me.”

I laughed nervously, though his intensity made it hard to breathe. “It’s not like that.”

But he was already closing the distance, his big hands finding my waist. His palms were rough against my skin, but his touch was gentle, reverent even. “You’re drowning in this shirt,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing over the fabric. “Look at you. So damn tiny.”

My hands instinctively rested on his forearms, the contrast between us impossible to ignore. His arms were solid, his muscles thick and corded under my fingers. Next to his, my hands looked fragile, almost doll-like. He noticed it too, his gaze dropping to where I touched him, a quiet groan escaping his lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice soft but loaded with something raw. “Like somethin’ out of a story. Beauty and the Beast.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could, his hand slid up, tilting my chin so I was looking right into those piercing eyes. The next thing I knew, his lips were on mine, warm and commanding. The kiss stole my breath, every bit of him consuming me in the best way.

His hands moved, gripping my hips as he pulled me against him. “Mine,” he growled against my lips. The word sent a thrill down my spine. “You’re mine, and I’m not letting you go.”

My heart pounded as I clung to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me to the bed like I weighed nothing at all. His shirt rode up as he laid me down, exposing my bare legs and the ribbons of my pointe shoes.

He paused, hovering over me, his eyes dark with hunger. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

“James…” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and desire.

His hands were everywhere—exploring, testing. He bent my leg, his touch slow and deliberate, as though marveling at my flexibility. His grin turned wicked as I arched beneath him, a soft gasp slipping from my lips.

“Shh, darlin’,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to my neck. His teeth grazed my skin, sending a jolt of heat through me, and then his tongue followed, soothing the spot. “Let me take care of you.”

James’s hands slid under the oversized shirt I wore, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of my stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His eyes darkened as he glanced up at me, a low growl escaping his throat.

“Fuck, baby, you look so good in this shirt. But it’s in the way,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “I need to see you.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I lifted my arms as he tugged the shirt up and over my head, throwing it to the side without a second thought. I was left exposed before him, my skin flushed and my breath shallow as he took in the sight of me, his gaze almost possessive.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he muttered, his voice rough as his hands traced down my arms, over my shoulders, and to the curve of my waist. His touch was like fire, leaving me aching for more.

His lips trailed along my neck, his breath hot against my skin, before moving lower, over my collarbone. As his hands gently cupped my breasts, I gasped at the feeling of his thumbs brushing over my nipples, hardening at his touch.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his mouth descending further, kissing along the top of my chest before moving to one nipple. He flicked his tongue over the hardened peak, sending a shiver through me.

I arched into him, my hands tangling in his hair as he lavished attention on me, his beard brushing against my skin in a way that made my entire body hum with pleasure. The sensation was both tender and intense, and I couldn't help but moan softly, feeling my body come alive under his touch.

But it was the way his hands moved, the way his fingers lightly traced the curve of my hips, that drove me wild. The gentleness with which he treated me, as though I were something precious, only added to the fire building inside.

"Please," I whispered, my voice trembling. It was a plea, though I didn’t know for what exactly, only that I needed him to make me feel.

With a soft chuckle, he pulled away for a moment, eyes dark with desire. "You’re so eager, darlin’. I’m not going anywhere. Just need to take my time with you."

His words, those quiet promises of patience, set my heart racing. Slowly, he lowered his body, kissing his way down my chest, over my stomach, and further still, until he hovered between my legs.

His eyes locked with mine, filled with a heat that made my breath catch. "Let me taste you, baby," he whispered, his voice hushed, reverent.

The words, the way he said them, stirred something deep within me. I parted my legs slightly, giving him the space he needed, feeling my pulse quicken with every inch closer he came.

 Suddenly, he lifted me effortlessly, pressing me against the cool wall, enveloping me with his warmth. I  felt my heart beating faster, his strong frame looming over me in a possessive yet gentle way. The heat of his body radiated against mine, sending shivers of anticipation down my spine.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending a thrill through me. "I couldn’t resist. You’re just too tempting right now."

“Maybe I wanted you to,” I whispered back, feeling bold, excitement dancing in my chest.

Before I could respond further, he leaned in, capturing my mouth with his. His kiss was electrifying—hunger mixed with tenderness—as he poured his desires into the moment. I melted into him, my hands instinctively sliding into his hair, gripping the soft strands as he began to explore.

He broke the kiss to trail his lips along my jawline and down to my neck, where he lingered, his breath hot against my skin. I gasped, tilting my head back, giving him better access. “God, you taste so good,” he breathed against my collarbone.

“Then don’t stop,” I urged, shivering at his words.

As if sensing my need, he slowly sank to his knees in front of me, his eyes smoldering with intensity. I felt vulnerable yet safe under his gaze, my body aching for him.

“Please, James,” I begged softly, my voice barely above a whisper, my fingers curling tighter in his hair, a mixture of desperation and exhilaration coursing through me.

With a smirk, he leaned closer, his warm breath brushing against my core. “Just relax, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he said, his tone both commanding and soothing. And then he buried his face between my thighs.

The sensation was overwhelming—his tongue skillfully teasing me as he explored every inch of my softness. I gasped, the pleasure sending jolts of electricity coursing through me. I couldn’t help but rock my hips closer, urging him on, craving every pleasurable flick.

“James,” I moaned, the sound of his name spilling from my lips like a sweet invitation. His smirk against me made my heart race even faster.

“Feel good, baby?” he murmured, pausing briefly. The wicked look in his eyes only fueled my desire.

“More than you can imagine,” I breathed, arching my back, desperate for more. “Don’t stop, please…”

As he continued, I felt myself teetering on the edge, every flick of his tongue driving me closer. “You’re so good at this,” I panted, lost in the moment. “You know how much I crave this.”

“Only the best for you,” he replied between teasing kisses, his voice low and sultry. He paused and gave me a look filled with heat. “You deserve to be spoiled, babe.”

With my hands gripping his hair tighter, I pulled him closer. “Then spoil me.”

He was relentless, his mouth devouring me in a way that sent shockwaves through my body. “You’re delicious,” he said, a hint of possessiveness lacing his words. “I could stay here all night.”

“God, James,” I gasped, feeling another wave of pleasure building inside me. “I’m—”

He cut me off with a hard, swift move, pushing me over the edge, and I cried out in ecstasy. Colors exploded behind my eyelids as waves of bliss washed over me.

When I finally came down from my high, he stood, brushing his lips against mine with a possessive smirk. “You okay?” he asked, concern mingling with the raw desire in his eyes.

“Better than okay,” I whispered, feeling electric currents still dancing through my body. “Now I want you.”

His brow arched playfully, desires swirling like a tempest in his eyes. “You think you can handle me?” he teased, leaning closer.

I smirked back, feeling daring. “I’ve handled you before, haven’t I?”

“Touché,” he said with a chuckle, but his expression turned serious. “You ready for this?”

“Always,” I assured him, feeling a thrill of anticipation.

With a single motion, he lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around him as he pressed me against the wall. I could feel him, hard and ready, throbbing against my core, and the intensity made my breath quicken. “You’re so desperate for me, aren’t you?” he said, his voice thick with need.

“Only for you,” I breathed. “Always for you.”

He grinned wickedly, his breath ghosting across my ear. “Then let’s see how much you can take.” With that, he sank into me in one smooth motion, and I gasped as he filled me completely.

“God, yes,” I breathed, losing myself in the sensation. “You feel incredible.”

“Damn right I do,” he growled, driving deeper. “And you’re mine.”

The rhythm of our bodies colliding filled the air, the sound a symphony of passion and urgency. “Look at me, Y/N,” he demanded, his eyes locked onto mine. I nodded, surrendering completely to him, my heart racing as I matched his intensity.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he urged, his breath ragged.

“James, it feels—oh god, it feels amazing,” I moaned, my body arching against his. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“That's right, baby. I want to hear you say it. I want you to remember how good I make you feel,” he said, his voice low and dark, sending shivers up my spine.

“James, you make me feel so good,” I whimpered, desperate for him. “Don’t stop. Just like that.”

With each thrust, he buried himself deeper, igniting flames of pleasure that threatened to consume me. The heat between us crackled, the world beyond us fading to nothing as we lost ourselves in each other.

“C’mon, babe. Let it go for me,” he urged, his voice a gravelly whisper as he picked up the pace, the need pushing both of us toward the brink.

“James, I’m so close,” I gasped, urgency flooding my voice.

“Then let go for me,” he commanded, thrusting harder, each movement focused solely on driving me to that sweet release. I could feel myself slipping, my breath hitching.

With one final deep thrust, I came undone, a wave of pleasure crashing over me, drawing out a desperate cry that echoed in the room. I felt him surge with me, his grip tightening as he lost himself inside me, his own moans harmonizing with mine.

In the aftermath, as our breaths mingled, he cradled my face in his hands, his touch gentle amidst the overwhelming intensity. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, his eyes softening as they bore into mine.

I smiled, relishing the aftermath of our passion. “So are you,” I replied, my fingers trailing along his jaw. “You always know how to make me feel amazing.”

He chuckled softly, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “And I’ll keep making you feel that way, because you deserve it.”

With a warmth filling my chest, I leaned in and pressed my lips against his once more, feeling grateful for this moment and the man who held me so tenderly yet fiercely. In James’ arms, I knew I had found something extraordinary.

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

If reader were to be a famous person what would each Oscar Isaac character be like/act like if they knew them and what would they do? Your choice of characters of course ❤️

-anon

This is gonna be wild👀

OI characters with famous reader

Featuring: The moon boys, Poe Dameron, Nathan Bateman, Santiago Garcia, Miguel O'Hara, Blue Jones, Basil Stitt, William Tell.

A/n: I did Basil and Steven a bit dirty. Nsfw is only for those two.

Poe Dameron: He is probably going to be a fan of you. Goes to every planet you may have fan meetings and would ask for a picture of you.

Most likely develops a crush on you. Blushes deeply whenever you two have eye contact.

Would send BB-8 to you while watching from a far. If BB-8 brings you joy, Poe's butterflies in his stomach go wild and he feels like he's about to pass out.

Would definitely buy VIP if you offer it.

William Tell: He has his bit fame too, and therefore would apply to become your manager or personal asisstant.

During fan meetings, William has the idea of setting up a Poker table, where fans could go against him. If they win, they could get a free picture with you.

But William is hard to beat, maybe don't expect many people to actually win against him.

Santiago Garcia: Would probably like to be your bodyguard. He definitely has the experience and would exceed at it.

Would always make sure the area is safe and if you have VIP, he would actually check the bags of anyone wanting to meet you.

Most likely gets Benny, William and Frankie as bodyguards for you too. No need for basic bodyguards when you have ex militaries.

Nathan Bateman: Definitely knows about you. Would perhaps apply to be your tech guy, keeping all your devices safe and hack free.

Even likes to design and install his own security system that once triggered, he himself would appear, maybe bring along some of his androids to protect you.

Miguel O'Hara: Miguel pretty much likes you and could apply to be your personal asisstant or PR manager.

Also wouldn't shy away from bodyguard duty. And since he's having spidey senses, people could actually come to meet him too, thus will lead you to get more famous because people know you have Miguel O'Hara.

Blue Jones: Blue sees you as an opportunity for himself to get more famous.

Wants to send you an invite to come to Lennox, and do a fan meeting in his club.

Not that he doesn't like you, but Blue likes fame so he could definitely get used by having you pay a visit. Plus it may lead to more girls wanting to join him...

Basil Stitt: He knew you before his incident, he had a bit of a crush on you. But now with his scarred cheek and embarrassment of it, Basil feelings towards you grew.

It pisses him off knowing he can't meet you in person again, he isn't good at accepting rejection and thinks you will find him ugly.

Basil would continue watching every video of you he can, eating takeout pizza and jerking off after. He wishes he could see you in person again...

Jake Lockley: Jake would definitely apply to be your personal driver. He likes you and a fat paycheck here and there definitely won't hurt.

Though he wouldn't shy away of protecting you, always having his trusty gun with him.

Jake would actually offer taking pictures with him too. Your fans should know who drives the famous you around.

Marc Spector: Definitely has the skills and experience of being your bodyguard. Would walk beside you with his sunglasses and chewing on gum.

Would want nothing more than to keep you safe. Marc can definitely deal with rude fans.

Also would agree to take pictures with your fans if they wanted. Some fame or even money could never hurt him.

Steven Grant: Oh dear... Steven would be... the obsessive fan...

Always goes to your fan meetings, probably has a big crush on you. Would keep any magazine cover and pictures of you stashed in a box.

Steven would also send you fan mail. But he is smart enough to not send... substances...

He isn't that stupid like most obsessive fans would be therefore keeps jerking off in private rather than sending it to you.

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

Tags:

@nekoyin @steven-grants-world @iolaussharpe-24 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @buckyssugarchick

@krakenkitty @libblesdoodles @tanks606 @yeanika

@mochiitoby @xcherryxmilkx @mooksmouse @autismsupermusicalassassin @silvernight-m

[yu-huuuu]

Hello if may request a madara who has crush like what steps he may go through for his plan to win them over. in the era of the hidden leaf time line (๑`✪̤◡✪̤)◞ღԵհɑղƘՏღ

[🌸] heheh-- This was funny.

genre: bad romantic comedy

warnings: Izuna lives because I say so. We want everyone alive and happy :b, fem!reader (I don't think the gender of the reader was mentioned…? Ahh, I don't remember pipi).

Summary: How to Win Over Your Crush in 4 Simple Steps — by: Madara Uchiha, feat: Three Idiots.

...

..

.

“Four is good luck.” Hashirama had started. “Maybe it would be a good idea if we helped you woo her like in the old days.”

Tobirama interrupted his older brother. “You mean that strange courtship of the ancestors of courting someone using four steps…? I thought four was bad luck.”

Hashirama replied with one of his characteristic smiles to his younger brother, “Yes, but I think it only applies to those who live in the south of the country.”

Izuna, being almost an unconscious idiot, spoke up, “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Madara sweatdropped at the stupidity of his friend and brother. “… We live in the south,” he muttered.

…

-- Step number one: he would get to know her tastes.

Madara didn’t know how to start a conversation with you the first time he met you. And it’s not like he was an idiot or anything, he had talked to higher-ups and the heads of other villages before.

He was the fucking leader of the most powerful clan along with the Senju clan, the Uchiha clan.

That's why he couldn't forget that the first thing he said to you out of nerves was: 'I like your headband'... but, it wasn't even a headband! It was a hair ribbon!

And despite that silly mistake of his, you laughed or were you laughing with him...? No, you were definitely laughing at him.

But a part of him didn't care that you laughed at him, your smile combined with your laughter was a charming sight. Too bad it wasn't because of one of his unexpected and witty responses that made you laugh. What surprised him the most was that you decided to stay and start a short conversation with him despite his pathetic attempt to talk to you.

Unfortunately, you were just visiting that day at the Hokage tower. Being the second cousin of the Senju brothers you grew very close to them, becoming very close to both brothers.

When he told his brother and—mistakenly—his closest friend's younger brother along with the latter of them about his desire to court you, they decided to help him.

He turned to see where his younger brother was hiding. The fool simply gestured with his only available hand to encourage him to approach you, while the other held a few sweet breads he was eating that the idiot had bought with his money.

'Glutton', was Madara's first thought. But was he really going to blame him? After all, he was the first one who offered to help him.

“In order to really get to know someone you must know their likes, big brother. That way you'll know that person deeper.” That had been one of Izuna's pieces of advice.

Madara sighed as he watched your back. Tobirama had been the one who had made the meeting possible, bringing you to the front of one of the first restaurants that had been built after Konoha was founded.

According to the little information provided by the youngest of the Senju, it was one of the restaurants you frequented the most.

Taking all the courage he could muster, he slowly approached you. Vaguely, he wondered if you remembered him, for Kami's sake, what if you told him you didn't remember him?

He knew he was being dramatic, but he would surely die right then from embarrassment.

With a shake of his head he shook those thoughts away. “Don't think that way, Madara-.” He told himself before a soft voice brought him out of his thoughts.

“Oh, it's you.”

Uh-oh.

Almost comically, Madara turned to you. For your part, you feared for a moment that his neck would break from the abrupt way he turned to you.

All because he was looking at his dumb younger brother, he didn't see that you had turned around and saw him standing there, looking back like an idiot.

Madara stood still, the poor man having a short circuit; he wanted to say so many things at once, but he couldn’t say them. Was it this nervousness? It was most likely.

He reacted when he realized with embarrassment that he had been left with his mouth hanging open. With a loud snap, he closed his mouth trying to find the right words to start talking, but he just couldn’t find them.

Madara would have scolded himself again, but a small snort caught his attention.

Oh-, you were laughing…

At him… again.

He felt the heat overwhelming his cheeks, he belatedly realized that he was blushing… and oh my god, he was acting like a fucking teenager!

He swore that in the background he could hear his brother laughing and choking on whatever he was eating now.

“Do you want to go eat with me?”, you asked, getting him out of his mind with your pretty voice; Obviously, you were oblivious to his thoughts or your surroundings.

Madara nearly choked trying to answer and, luckily or by a miracle, he managed to answer you, “yeah, sure,” although he spoke a little louder than usual.

The embarrassment he was feeling was enough to make him wish he was swallowed by the earth, Madara Uchiha wanting to be swallowed by the earth… What kind of nonsense and lie was that? He swears that no woman ever managed to put him that way, he was supposed to be the one who put them that way.

And yet, here he was wanting to bury his head in the ground while he followed you inside the small but cozy restaurant.

“And tell me… What things do you like?”

…

Hashirama had a serious expression, if someone had seen them from afar they would have thought they were talking about something serious, politics or something between clans.

However, that was very far from reality.

“Women like to feel special—”

“I know, I had lovers in the past”

“And that's why— wait what.”

Madara felt a strong urge to sigh when he saw his friend's stupid face, looking at him as if he had grown a second head, or as if he had said something like “I'm going to rule the world. If you want to stop me, you'll have to kill me” and then magically survived that battle and hid underground for sixty years planning some kind of revenge with an abandoned child and a creature of dubious origin. The thought made him roll his eyes, as if he was going to do it.

“I had lovers in the past… Did you think I was some kind of social retard?”

“Yes… I mean no—, of course not!”

He raised an eyebrow, Madara was beginning to doubt his friend's abilities. The fact that he had a wife seemed a little unbelievable to him now.

Was this a government social experiment? Wait what.

Hashirama sighed before speaking after a long while. “She likes conversations that can bring out her wit, you know?”

“…I think her ideal type is someone who can flow with her, and who answers with the same kind of wit… at least that’s how she’s been since we were kids”

Madara was absorbing every ounce of information his friend was giving him about you. A little you seemed adorable to him, although truth be told, you were already adorable. “I can imagine,” he said as a subtle, amused smile crept up his lips.

“Oh, believe me, she sometimes got on the older ones’ nerves when she brought out her wit”

His smile softened as he imagined a little you fluttering like a little butterfly among the adults and graciously answering what they said to you. Madara wondered to himself: if he ever had children with you, would they be just like you?

“I can handle it”

“… liar.”

Madara didn't waste his time denying that, after all you and he had agreed to meet at the field that was at the southern end of the village. His heart began to pound with excitement just thinking about meeting you again, he just hoped he wouldn't get as nervous around you as the first time.

...

-- Step Two; ‘Romantic’ Dates

“Alright, listen up,” Izuna spoke up interrupting whatever Tobirama was going to say. “Now you’re about to dive into dangerous waters–”

“You talk like he’s about to enter a battlefield, it’s just a date.”

“Says the one who’s never been on a date in his life.”

“You son of a–”

Madara let out a snort of annoyance, these two weren’t helping at all.

“Listen,” Tobirama exclaimed with annoyance evident in his voice and face, “it’s nothing to be alarmed about, the only thing that changes is that they won’t be friendly dates, they’ll start to be more romantic and serious.”

“Yes, it's something like this,” Izuna said pointing at the drawing of a staircase (?) he had made on the ground, “you are here,” he said pointing at step one, “where the dates to get to know each other better begin… then you will be on step two at the kissing part and ask her to be your life partner,” his brother's voice became dramatic.

“And… what does the last step mean–?”, Tobirama asked pointing at the last step.

“Stay away, Satan!”

Madara looked at them with a disturbed face as he watched them talk about… he honestly didn't feel like repeating it in his mind, he didn't want to see you like that. At least not yet, you looked so pure that the idea of ​​corrupting you hurt him… in more than one way.

He simply walked away trying to get rid of the new thoughts that began to torment him. He looked at the sky, it was beginning to get dark, there was still time.

His walk was slow but sure, some passersby stopping to greet him politely as they passed. Madara wasn't surprised, being the leader of the Uchiha Clan it was normal for people to show him respect.

Vaguely, he wondered if you accept being his, Would you feel uncomfortable if people and civilians bowed to greet you? It would be normal for you to feel that way, knowing you and your status. He could almost imagine your cute face awkward as you walked beside him.

No, surely you would overcome that. You are a strong and amazing woman, you deserved more than a pathetic nod as a greeting. To Madara people should kneel and kiss your feet to greet you.

Although, you probably wouldn't agree with that. You are such an amazing and gentle woman, that your mere existence in this corrosive world shouldn't exist. But you are also a woman who because of her status wasn't that important to her clan.

He grimaced.

But as soon as it appeared, it disappeared when he saw you. Your eyes lit up when you saw him, causing a small smile to appear on his normally stoic face.

Well, if your status doesn’t mean anything now, he’ll definitely make it so in the future.

“How are you?”

…

-- Step Three: ‘Gifts and always Showing Trust’

“What, you don’t know what else to give her?” Izuna asked carelessly as he munched on an onigiri.

“No,” he replied as he tried to think of what to give you as a sign that he was fully committed to you. In the Uchiha clan, there was this tradition where the man had to give you something meaningful as a sign of commitment and loyalty to the other person, though he vaguely wondered if you would understand his gestures since you weren’t part of the Uchiha clan.

“What about flowers?”

“I already gave her flowers before.”

“Second date?”

“No, third date.”

Izuna hummed as he tried to think, “Oh… and what about those western sweets? You know those so-called… chocolates.”

Madara fell into thought, what if you didn’t like them? They were new to the people of Konoha, several people hadn’t liked them — mostly elders — because of the exotic taste.

But you were an adventurous spirit, he was sure you wouldn't mind trying it.

He smiled before ruffling his brother's unkempt hair, who choked a little at the movement. “Good idea,” he congratulated him before quickly moving away from the boy before he could hit him.

Madara walked quickly to the only store that currently sold those so-called chocolates, already feeling excited to see your reaction.

When he entered the soft aroma of pastries hit his nose, surely you would like this place. With a confident step he approached the counter, focusing on the small sign that was next to the chocolates. ‘Heart-shaped chocolates’ was what it read, although he felt a little confused when he saw the shape of the chocolates… they weren't heart-shaped.

He knew this, because seeing hearts outside the body of his opponents was not strange to him. Although, surely, the ‘shape of hearts’ was a Western thing.

“I want a package of heart-shaped chocolates,” he asked the girl behind the counter without bothering to look at her.

When his order was ready, he paid for it without looking back as he tried to think of how to give them to you without looking weird. Maybe on your next date he could give them to you, but, that might look too forward on his part.

“Oh, hello, Madara.”

Madara stopped, you were in front of the door… you were going to…

Were you going to enter?

He wanted to hit himself right now. Of course, being the person you were, you were surely the first person to have tried them when you entered the village.

“Did you buy chocolates?” you asked amused as you looked at the bag and then at him. He couldn’t blame you and you clearly weren’t making fun of him being a man and it was a sin for him to like sweets. Of course not, it was because he had told you in the beginning that he hardly liked sweet things.

“… They are for you,” he said as he handed them to you, almost shy, yet, showing himself confident.

“Oh…”, you managed to articulate before taking the package of chocolates, you looked at the bag between a mix of amazement and surprise before looking at him and smiling tenderly. “Would you like to enjoy them with me?”

…

You were so excited, your body exuded happiness infecting him in its path, “Isn’t it amazing?”

“It definitely is,” Madara replied with a smile looking at you with adoration.

Your first painting had been sold. It was a simple painting but so beautiful, although in his eyes everything you did was beautiful. 

When he heard the news from Hashirama he had almost run out to congratulate you. It was an achievement, it was your achievement, that’s why he was happy.

“I… I still can’t believe it was sold! Honestly, it’s so ugly I can’t believe it, haha!” you laughed, though Madara’s smile disappeared when he heard your comment about your work.

Ugly? That was the last term he would use to address something you’ve done. “I don’t think it’s ugly, I think it’s beautiful and special just like you.”

How cheesy.

Well.

At least it worked… that is, if your blushing face and star-like sparkling eyes told him anything.

Ha, take that Tobirama, who said he couldn’t praise and be cheesy at the same time.

…

-- Step four; ‘confess’

Madara’s hair fluttered, the wind ruffling his long black locks. He wondered if he looked disheveled.

He wanted to formalize what he had with you. In his eyes it was time. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, your smile, the look in your eyes, the way your face lit up when you saw something you liked or when you looked at him.

You had him under some kind of spell. Not that he was complaining about this.

“Madara!” your voice called out to him. And as lovely as ever you approached him, trotting gently. Your hair fluttering behind you, like a beautiful waterfall of the rich color of your hair.

He said your name when you were close to him. “I’m glad to see you,” he paused for a moment to organize the next words he was going to say. “I want to tell you something.”

Your head tilted slightly to the side as a curious look flooded the beautiful color of your eyes, adding a spectacular shine as if a fairy had put that shine there making him fall even more in love with you. “Oh, about?”

Madara felt his hands sweat, making his heart flutter. Why was he so nervous? “I would like to formalize this.”

He looked at your beautiful face, watching as your expression filled with surprise. “You… want… what?”

This confused him, why did you look so doubtful?

However, without wasting another moment, he continued: “I want to make this formal. I want to get serious with you, I want to love you and I want to conquer you more and more every day… if you give me permission to do so. I don’t promise to be perfect… just like I don’t ask you to be, I only ask that you allow me to call you mine and that you allow me to stay by your side.” His quiet, serious, yet almost gentle voice came out trying to lull your ears.

You looked at him as he held his breath, afraid that you would leave and push him away, or even afraid that you had overstepped your boundaries. Did he do something wrong? Did he overstep your boundaries?

Why were you not answering him?

It wasn't until a moment later that felt like an eternity that you finally smiled. Such a beautiful smile… full of life and beauty.

It was at that moment that he allowed himself to smile too. There were no words, no explanations or confirmations of anything.

He knew that the two of you would be together no matter the circumstances.

…

Epilogue::

“Have you loved others?” you asked softly. Your voice, almost like a siren's song that echoed in the sounds of the forest. Your eyes like two precious gems shining in the moonlight.

“Have you?” he asked in the same tone as yours, looking at you where you had settled. You were close to where his heart is, an appropriate place when it comes to you he thought.

“Yes…”

“… Yes”

You confessed as if you were both confessing some teenage stupidity.

“Did you know I wanted to court you?” He asked you after a while.

“Huh? Oh, you talk about that. Tobirama told me the first day we met in front of that restaurant”

“… I’m going to kill him”

You snorted clearly amused. “No need, he helped me sort out my feelings”

“… I guess he’s saved this time”

Your soft giggles like an angel's songs that warmed his heart and brightened his soul, making him feel alive. He pulled you closer to his chest, feeling warm and loved.

And for that moment, which could perhaps be the last, he truly felt at peace.

…

3157… 3157 wORDS!

anyway! i wanted to do something different :D, like… a one shot style writing but following what my lovely anon asked me haha ​​:3 it’s nice to be back!! please reblog and give me a big heart 🪭❤️

Ily guysss!! You always make me happy❤️❤️❤️

[echo-circuit]

Darkness. Endless, crushing darkness. And then, a spark.

Optimus’s optics flickered to life, bright and piercing in the gloom of the lab. His awareness came in fragments—a pulse of energy through his chest, the faint hum of machinery, the cold press of metal against his frame. Slowly, his senses sharpened, and with them came confusion.

Where am I?

The thought echoed in his mind as he lifted his head, his movements sluggish and unfamiliar. He looked down at his hands—massive, mechanical, alien. Panic swelled in his chest. This wasn’t right. None of this was right.

Awake at last,” a voice said, flat and emotionless.

Optimus turned his head, his optics landing on the figure before him. The man was human, but not entirely he didn't think. A full helmet with yellow visor obscured his face, and his left arm was a crude, mechanical construct. Something about him tugged at the edges of Optimus’s memory, but the familiarity brought no comfort to him. Instead only great sadness welled up inside him.

“What… is this?” Optimus rasped, his voice deep and strained.

“You are functional,” the man said, stepping closer. “Designation: Orion Pax. The process was a success.”

The words sent a shiver through Optimus’s frame. “Orion... Pax?” he repeated, the name foreign yet familiar. “That’s… not my name.”

Shockwave’s helmet angled slightly to the side, the jester devoid of warmth. “I saved you,” he said simply. “You died. I brought you back."

Where…?” the mech rasped, his voice deep and unfamiliar. His optics focused on the man standing before him, his confusion quickly replaced by shock. “Shockwave?”

Shockwave paused, tilting his head as if trying to process the name.

Optimus staggered to his feet, his massive form towering over Shockwave. His gaze fell to his hands again—mechanical, alien—and then to the Matrix glowing faintly in his chest.

It was then that he felt it—a faint, warm presence deep within him, nestled in the core of his chest. The Matrix. Its whispers were faint, like a distant melody, but they grew louder with every passing moment.

You are Optimus Prime, it declared. Bearer of the Matrix. Brother. Prime.

“No,” Optimus said aloud, shaking his head. “That’s not me. I’m… I’m someone else.”

He searched his fractured memories, but they slipped through his grasp like smoke. Only flashes came to him: a battlefield, a voice shouting his name to faint to hear, pain, and then nothingness.

The Matrix’s whispers grew urgent now, filling Optimus’s mind with images of what had transpired: stolen Cybertronian components, melted-down allies, and a body built from the remnants of others. The truth hit him like a blow, and his frame shook with horror.

Optimus’s optics widened as the pieces began to fall into place. The lab, the grotesque machinery, the faint traces of energon staining the floor—it all told a story, and it was one he didn’t want to believe.

“What have you done?” Optimus asked, his vox tremblingin horror.

The Matrix whispered again, louder this time. Your partner. The one who lead us to you. Killer. Broken.

In that moment, memories came rushing back, in fragmented flashes: the cockpit, the battlefield, Shockwave’s panicked voice, and the crushing darkness that followed.

Shockwave’s visor gleamed coldly as he stepped closer, his head tilted in curiosity. “It was necessary. You were necessary. Everything else was irrelevant.”

“Everything else?” Optimus repeated, his voice rising. “They were people, Shockwave! You’ve slaughtered them—Cybertronians, humans—just to build… this!” He gestured at his own body, disgust and fury boiling beneath his confusion.

Shockwave’s expression didn’t change. “You were the last thing I had left,” he said flatly, voice even more distorted by that horrible mask. “I promised to save you. And now I have.”

Optimus froze, staring at the man before him. The voice was the same, yet completely different—cold, detached, and empty. The Shockwave he knew was gone, replaced by this... stranger.

“You’ve become a monster,” Optimus said, his voice barely above a whisper. “The Shockwave I knew would never… he would never do this.”

Shockwave’s visor gleamed coldly and he didn't flinch at Optimus's growing look of horror. “The Shockwave you knew is irrelevant. I fulfilled my promise. You are here. That is all that matters.”

Optimus stared at him, his optics filled with sorrow. For him, only moments had passed since they were last together, fighting side by side. For Shockwave, decades had turned him into something unrecognizable.

“But you don’t even remember me,” Optimus said quietly. “You don’t remember why you wanted to save me, do you?”

Shockwave’s silence was answer enough.

It's killing me guys f*ck. The just straight up trauma

Thanks @keferon for the au

[waitingandwishing]

(Cross posted on Wattpad)

Prev - Next Chapter

Y/N sat motionlessly on the edge of her bed, her fingers absently tracing the rough, scratchy texture of the worn sheets.

Her gaze was fixed on the ground, her eyes distant and unseeing, the once brilliant color now dulled into a pale, lifeless gray.

She looked as if she were suspended in time, caught between the weight of the past and the crushing uncertainty of the future.

Her thoughts circled relentlessly, clawing at the fragile edges of her composure. ‘Mylo, dead. Claggor, dead. Vi, dead. Vander, dead.’ The names echoed like the toll of a bell, each one a dagger carving deeper into her chest.

And then there was Ekko. Ekko, whose fate she didn’t know. Was he alive, wandering aimlessly through the wreckage of their shared past? Or was he lost too, swallowed by the chaos?

The uncertainty gnawed at her insides. She clenched her fists, a cold determination solidifying within her. ‘If he’s alive, I’ll find him. I have to. He’s all alone now— no one to care for him. I’ll find him.’

The weight of the small gemstones in her hand pulled her attention. She turned them over slowly, their surfaces catching the dim light.

The soft blue glow flickered eerily, somehow both beautiful and deeply unsettling. They seemed to hold whispers of the lives they’d lost, their brilliance mocking her.

Her thoughts were abruptly shattered by a sharp knock at the door. She flinched, startled out of her daze as she quickly shoved the blue stone in her bag. The familiar voice on the other side made her tense.

“Silco,” she muttered under her breath, even before he spoke.

“The girl won’t eat,” His gravelly voice called through the door.

Y/N hesitated before responding, her tone sharp. “Her name is Powder,” She corrected, pushing the words through clenched teeth. “Have you made her something?”

“Yes, but she won’t touch it.” Silco’s frown was evident even through the door.

For a moment, Y/N stayed silent, staring at the door as if it were some insurmountable wall. Was this another of Silco’s manipulations? A way to force her out of her room? She could still feel the ghostly heat licking at her skin, hearing the crackle of flames consuming everything she held dear.

But then, against her better judgment, she stood. The quiet sound of the mattress creaking as she moved surprised even Silco. He watched her warily as she brushed past him without a word.

Y/N knew he knew her weakness. She knew he could use her against her, but right now all that mattered was Powder.

“Where’s her room?” she asked, her voice flat.

He gestured silently down the hallway, and Y/N followed his direction without looking back.

Standing in front of Powder’s door, she hesitated for a beat before raising her hand and knocking gently. “Bluejay?” Her voice softened into something almost unrecognizable, a sliver of warmth peaking through.

The silence on the other side was suffocating, stretching out long enough for Y/N to feel the weight of Silco’s eyes boring into her back. But just as she opened her mouth to speak again, the door creaked open.

“Hey—”

The word barely escaped her lips before she was knocked backward. Powder flung herself into Y/N’s arms, gripping her tightly as if afraid she might vanish at any moment. Powder buried her face into Y/N’s chest, her small frame trembling with gut-wrenching sobs.

“Wh-Where—” She choked out, her voice cracking between gasps. “Are you going to leave me too?”

The question hit Y/N like a blow to the stomach. Her breath caught, and for a moment, she couldn’t speak. She looked down at Powder’s tear-streaked face, the raw desperation in her wide eyes. Y/N’s own tears began to pool, stinging the corners of her vision.

“Oh, Powder…” Her voice trembled as she wrapped her arms around the sobbing girl, holding her as tightly as she could. “Never… I promise I’ll never leave you. Never.”

Powder’s sniffles softened into quieter whimpers as she nodded, clinging to Y/N with all the strength she had left. Y/N reached up, gently wiping the tears from the girl’s flushed cheeks.

“What do you think about soup?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Powder nodded hesitantly, her gaze still wet and puffy. “The chicken one?”

“Your favorite one,” Y/N assured her with a faint smile, standing and lifting Powder effortlessly into her arms.

As she turned back toward Silco, her expression hardened again. “You have a kitchen, right?” She asked, her tone sharp with an edge of authority.

Silco nodded, his usual composure momentarily shaken. “Yes. Right down the hall.”

Without another word, Y/N walked past him, her grip on Powder secure and protective. Silco lingered in the doorway, watching the two retreating figures.

Powder’s red, tear-streaked face peeked over Y/N’s shoulder, and for a fleeting moment, Silco’s features softened.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair as he turned away, retreating into the shadows of the hallway.

_____________________________________________________

Blood trailed out of her stomach, thick rivulets soaking into the ground beneath her. It was warm at first, uncomfortably warm, but soon the cold of the earth seeped through her clothes, biting at her skin.

Y/N coughed violently, her breath hitching as her chest heaved, her vision swimming behind a veil of tears. She tried to move, but her body felt like lead. Every gasp sent fresh waves of pain slicing through her ribs, each one sharper than the last.

Her blood coated everything. Her hands were slick with it, trembling as they pressed against the dirt, but it only made the ground smear with more crimson. Her clothes clung to her skin, drenched in the cloying liquid. The smell of iron was suffocating, sharp and metallic, twisting her stomach in revulsion.

She hated blood. The sight, the texture, the smell, but now it was everywhere. It was hers, and it was under her nails, wedged deep. She’d never be able to scrub it out.

Was someone coming? Was anyone even looking for her? Y/N didn’t know. The thought sent a pang of despair through her, but it was quickly overshadowed by a sharp, searing pain that exploded across her abdomen.

She gasped, choking as her mouth filled with blood. The taste was bitter and metallic, flooding her senses as she doubled over and collapsed against the cold, unyielding ground.

Her cheek pressed against the dirt, rough and cool against her fevered skin. She lay there, motionless except for the shallow, uneven rise and fall of her chest.

Blood dripped from the corner of her lips, pooling in a slow, dark stain beneath her. Her gaze turned upward, past the carnage of her body, to the endless expanse of sky.

She thought of Jinx. Where was she? Was she safe? Her heart clenched at the thought of the girl finding her like this. Y/N didn’t know what was worse: Jinx witnessing her death or never knowing what had happened to her.

Y/N swallowed the pain, though it burned like fire in her throat, and gritted her teeth. For some reason, something or someone pushed her to get through this moment.

With a shaky breath, she forced herself to move. Her body protested with every inch. Her muscles screamed, her ribs ached, and her vision darkened at the edges, but she turned onto her stomach.

The dirt smeared across her face and clothes as she dragged herself forward, inch by agonizing inch. Every movement sent pain ricocheting through her body, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. Jinx needed her, and she would crawl through hell itself to protect her.

“Mom?”

A small voice broke through the haze. Panic surged in Y/N’s chest, momentarily cutting through the pain. No. No, no, no! She wasn’t supposed to be here. She couldn’t see this.

“Jinx…” Y/N rasped, but her voice was little more than a whisper, drowned out by the sound of her own labored breathing.

“Y/N!” Another voice, deeper and gravelly, snapped her attention. Through her blurring vision, she could make out figures approaching. Silco, Jinx, and… Sevika?

Y/N coughed, her body convulsing as more blood spilled from her lips. She forced her head to lift, barely able to make out their faces before the weight of exhaustion pulled her back down. Her eyes fluttered shut as her body grew colder, the edges of her mind slipping further into darkness.

“Y/N!” Jinx’s scream tore through the air, raw and heartbroken. She dropped to her knees beside her, her hands hovering over the blood-soaked body. Tears streaked her cheeks, her face twisting into something desperate and anguished.

“Please, Y/N, please!” Jinx’s voice cracked as she shook her sister’s shoulders gently. “Wake up! You can’t leave me!”

Silco stood a few feet away, his expression frozen in a rare moment of shock. Y/N was meticulous, a fighter to the bone. For her to end up like this was unthinkable. His mind raced, running through the possible culprits. Someone had orchestrated this, and they would pay.

“She hates blood. Why is she covered in so much blood?” Jinx whispered, her voice trembling as she stared at Y/N’s form. Her hands trembled as she turned to Silco, her wide, tear-filled eyes pleading. “Save her! You have to save her!”

Sevika knelt beside Y/N, pressing two fingers to her neck. After a tense moment, she nodded. “She’s got a pulse,” Her voice was steady despite the tension in her jaw.

Without hesitation, Sevika scooped Y/N’s limp body into her arms. Blood seeped into her clothes as she stood, but she didn’t flinch.

“Get her home. Now,” Silco ordered, his voice low and deadly. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as his gaze swept over the scene. “Find who did this. And bring them to me.”

Silco watched them go, his jaw tight as he turned his attention back to the bloodied ground. Whoever had done this had made a grave mistake. And they would learn the cost of crossing him.

Y/N’s head lulled aimlessly, her expression peaceful as she seemed to drift off somewhere. It was a beautiful place, though she wouldn’t remember it when she’d wake up. But she knew it was beautiful.

‘You still have a promise to keep, Y/N.’

_____________________________________________________

“I must thank you, Y/N,” Silco spoke, his gravelly voice cutting through the stillness of the room.

Y/N sat across from him, her posture tense as one of Silco’s medics worked deftly to wrap the bandages around her wounds.

The faint scent of antiseptic hung in the air, mingling with the smoke curling from Silco’s cigar. “For taking care of Jinx.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat tight. There was something about the way he said her Powder’s new name, Jinx, that sent a prickle of unease down her spine. It rolled off his tongue too naturally, too comfortably, as though it belonged to her entirely.

“She’s my sister,” Y/N replied firmly, her voice steady despite the storm brewing inside her.

Silco tilted his head, the glowing ember of his cigar illuminating the sharp planes of his face. “And yet, I would think of her more as a daughter to you.” He exhaled a stream of smoke with deliberate calm, his visible eye gleaming with something unreadable. “She called you her mother, did she not?”

“She did,” Y/N admitted reluctantly, shifting under his piercing gaze. Her fingers clenched in her lap, knuckles whitening. “Whatever Jinx wants to call me, I don’t have a preference.”

“Oh, but I think you do.” Silco’s tone was laced with quiet certainty, the kind that cut deeper than any blade. He took another long drag from his cigar before letting the smoke escape in slow, curling wisps. The pungent smell burned in her lungs, making her feel as though the air itself were conspiring against her. “Jinx needs someone to train her.”

“Sevika can train her,” Y/N said curtly, her words more of a defense than a suggestion.

Silco merely hummed, his calm demeanor unshaken. “And you would trust Sevika with that responsibility?” he asked, his tone faintly amused.

Y/N feigned an eye roll, “No,” She admitted, pushing herself to her feet with a wince as the motion tugged at her bandages. “I’ll train her. If that’s all you wanted to say, you could’ve just come out with it. Whatever game you’re playing, whether it’s using Powder against me or something else, I don’t care.”

“Emotions are a volatile thing,” Silco murmured, ignoring her defiance. He turned his gaze fully on her, his infected eye glowing with eerie intensity. “Especially anger. You were reckless during your last mission, and that recklessness is why you suffered the consequences. Be grateful I decided to look out for you.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, the sting of his words fueling the fire in her chest. “What? So now I’m in debt to you?”

“You are my daughter just as much as Jinx is,” Silco said evenly, his calm almost infuriating. He took another slow pull from his cigar before continuing. “I care for you just as much as I care for her.”

“We’re assets,” Y/N shot back, her voice sharper than she intended. Silco turned his head to face her fully, the soft orange glow of his infected eye swirling like a slow-burning ember.

“And is that what you truly believe?” he asked, his tone devoid of malice but laced with curiosity.

“I speak my mind, Silco,” Y/N replied, her voice cold.

“Indeed, you do,” Silco said, his lips curling into the faintest semblance of a smile. “I merely wish to express my gratitude. I’m glad you’re alive, Y/N. You fought with determination and skill.”

Y/N froze at his words, her body rigid. Gratitude? Praise? From Silco? It didn’t add up. What exactly was he playing at?

Silco leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “Despite our differences,” He said softly, his orange eye gleaming as it fixed on hers, “I care for both of you. Never doubt that.”

Y/N swallowed hard, suppressing the knot of frustration forming in her throat. Without saying another word, she nodded curtly and turned on her heel, stepping briskly out of the office. The heavy door closed behind her with a soft click, and she let out a sigh she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Dragging a hand through her hair, she muttered to herself, trying to gather her thoughts. (For those who cover their hair or don’t have any, my apologies for not being more inclusive!)

Her steps echoed down the quiet hallway until she suddenly stopped. A faint, familiar energy pricked at her senses.

“Jinx,” She said, her voice steady, “I know you’re there.”

Out of nowhere, the blue-haired girl landed on the floor with an exaggerated huff, as if she’d been caught mid-sneak. Her electric blue locks, now long and swept back into a messy ponytail, swayed with the movement. She looked up with a playful, slightly sheepish expression, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

“What?” Jinx asked, feigning innocence as if she hadn’t been caught red-handed.

Y/N crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, ‘What’?” Her tone was sharp but not unkind, one hand shifted to her hip as she added pointedly, “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

Jinx groaned dramatically, throwing her hands in the air as she plopped onto the floor in an exaggerated sprawl. “I know, I know! I tried! But I was bored, and I couldn’t find you!”

Y/N shook her head, her stern expression softening into a smile. “You really don’t make things easy, do you?”

Jinx perked up instantly. “So? What were you guys talking about in there? Sounded important.”

“Nothing important,” Y/N replied with a soft chuckle, her smile widening slightly as she crouched down to meet Jinx’s gaze. “But starting tomorrow, you and I have work to do.”

Jinx tilted her head, curious but intrigued. “Work? Like… fun work or boring work?”

“Training,” Y/N clarified, her tone firm but encouraging. “No excuses this time. You’re going to need it.”

taglist: @night-fall-moon @g0ul666 (If you'd like to be added tell me in the comments!!!)

[luxcuriousao3]

Dove: A Zombie!Ghost Story (Chapter Ten)

Summary: Simon’s arms were impossibly tight around her, almost crushing her to his chest. Lelia didn’t mind. She wanted to be as close to him as physically possible—would have crawled inside his ribcage and nestled next to his unbeating heart, if she could have. She knew she would be safe there. Simon always kept her safe. Word Count: 2972 Warnings: still no smut but Ghost does something a tad creepy (it's okay we still love him), flashback/descriptions of past non-con, extreme cuteness Notes: I hope you all enjoy getting this chapter a day early this week! I will be on a road trip starting tomorrow, so posting will not be possible. This chapter has one of my favorite scenes I've written for this fic, it's so sweet. All dividers were made by @/sweetmelodygraphics (original post here). The zombie divider indicates the text below is Ghost's POV, the dove divider inidcates Lelia's POV. The combined dove and zombie divider represents a time skip but not a POV change. I still have no beta for this fic so all SPAG and consistency errors are my own, feel free to point them out. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! AO3, Masterlist

It took them two more days to reach the village, and just in time. Snow had started falling an hour before, and it didn't look like it was going to stop any time soon.

The village appeared mostly untouched from what Ghost could see of it, and he was glad. That meant they’d be more likely to find supplies that his dove desperately needed. The final bottle of water was finished yesterday, the last time she’d eaten was at the river, when he’d managed to catch a fish for her while bathing. She was shaking like a leaf, too, the exposed skin of her face bright red from the cold.

Needing to get her warm immediately, Ghost shuffled her into the first house they saw. It was a small thing, only a little bigger than the cabin. Lelia practically collapsed on the couch in front of the unlit fireplace, looking between him and it hopefully as she shivered, her teeth chattering. Simon shook his head, letting out an apologetic grunt that made her face drop in the most horrible way. But he couldn’t risk lighting it before he’d cleared the village and made sure he wouldn’t be alerting anyone to their presence.

So instead, he helped her take off her soaked puffer jacket, replacing it with the thick quilt folded over the arm of the couch. He hung the jacket on a coat rack near the door, along with her hat, mittens, and jeans, which were heavy with melted snow. He placed his helmet and vest on the floor next to it, a habit he'd formed at his dove’s request. She said she wanted him to be more comfortable around her, but sometimes he thought seeing all the gear just brought up bad memories for her.

Next, he disappeared into the toilet, coming back with a fluffy towel. He kneeled down in front of Lelia, undoing her boots—his fingers had gotten much more dexterous with continued use, though he was still slow—and peeling off her wet socks. Her feet were red and irritated, but he let out a breath of relief when there were no signs of frostbite.

She’d asked him once why he still did that—breathing. He didn’t do it all the time, didn’t need to, but sometimes he let out a whoosh of air or inhaled sharply when the urge overtook him. He’d just given her a shrug. He didn’t really know—but it did hurt his pride a bit that little habits like that were harder to kill than he had been.

He wrapped the towel around her left foot and began to dry it—only to stop when Lelia nearly kicked him, letting out a shriek of laughter.

“S-sorry,” she said sheepishly. “Tickles.”

Simon’s eyes crinkled, and he resumed drying her foot off, more carefully this time. She let out cute little giggles while squirming in place. He may have been more thorough than necessary, just to get her to the point where she was clutching her sides and gasping for breath, a wide grin on her face.

Damn it all, he wanted to kiss her.

When she finally wheezed out a plea for mercy, he stopped and sat back, just looking up at her admiringly for a long moment. He knew he shouldn't indulge the direction his thoughts were going, but he couldn't help it. She looked so fucking pretty, sitting above him, her chest still heaving from trying to catch her breath, a sweet smile on her face.

Before he even realized what he was doing, he started massaging her sore feet. She twitched again, looking down at him with playful suspicion. But when he didn’t start wiggling his fingers against the soles, she relaxed, fixing the blanket so it made a hood over her head and settling further into the couch.

She still giggled when he rubbed a particularly ticklish spot, but she let out soft sighs of contentment, too. Especially when his hands moved from her feet up to her calves. He didn’t slide them beneath her woolen stockings like he wanted to, knowing his ice cold fingers would only make her shiver more. But he massaged her through them, working on the tight muscles.

He stopped when he got to her knees, just the tips of his fingers brushing her thighs. He heard her heart rate pick up, and before he could pull away, he smelled it. Sweet and subtle and musky. She was aroused again.

He looked up at her as he began to drool. She was dozing, not quite asleep but not awake, either. He licked his teeth. He wanted to taste her so badly. And not her flesh this time, either. He'd had a whole buck just a couple of days ago—the virus’s instincts were satiated. No, the hunger he felt right now was all too human.

Before he could think better of it, Ghost nudged her thighs apart a little bit. He wasn't going to touch her, no matter how badly he wanted to. He just wanted to smell her a little better…

Watching her carefully, he leaned in until his nose brushed against the apex of her thighs from beneath his mask. She twitched, but didn't open her eyes. So he inhaled deeply—only to immediately let out a sound between a loud growl and moan, unable to stop himself.

“Simon?” His dove asked sleepily, squinting down at him. He pulled back, but not fast enough. She frowned at him, clearly confused, and rubbed her eyes, as if that might help her understand what she was seeing better. “What are you doing?”

Ghost had no bloody idea how to answer. Wouldn't have even if he could’ve talked. He didn't know how to explain what she’d caught him doing. That he wasn’t sniffing between her legs like a dog because he wanted to eat her—at least not in the way a zombie should. He thought she would be more understanding if that were the case. If it had been him almost giving into the virus, and not just him being a perverted old man creeping on a young, pretty thing like her while she was vulnerable.

“You’re shaking,” Lelia said, voice soft and concerned, and she reached down, running her fingers through his hair. Simon’s eyes widened and he stiffened in shock. Instantly, his dove stopped, beginning to pull her hand back, already starting to apologize. He grabbed her wrist, almost too hard, and brought her hand back to his hair. She blinked, but resumed the petting, and his head dropped to rest on her thigh, unable to hold it up any longer. She jumped, and the smell of her arousal grew stronger, but she didn't stop, just used the blanket to gently wipe away the drool on his broken jaw. “It’s alright, Simon. I’m here. You’re not alone anymore.”

Christ, she was far too good for him. He didn't deserve to be near her, let alone for her to comfort him like this, especially after what he'd just done. Something she clearly misinterpreted, because there was no way in hell, earth, or heaven that she would be touching him so sweetly if she had. It made him wonder about just how innocent she was, if she didn't recognize what he'd been doing. Had a man never used his mouth on her? Had she ever even had sex?

Ghost growled softly, trying to clear his head. But her scent was so strong from where he was, and he couldn’t help but think about it. About what was causing it.

He'd written it off as a coincidence, the other day. He’d thought it the only possible explanation. But now…

Taking a risk, Ghost moved his hands from her knees to rest against the sides of her thighs, so he could hug her legs. His dove’s breath stuttered, but she didn't push him away or even stop carding her fingers through his hair.

And the smell of her wetness grew stronger.

Simon let out a disbelieving gurgle, lifting his head a bit to look up at Lelia in awe. She smiled sweetly at him, tenderly brushing the back of her knuckles over the outline of his mask with her free hand, as if stroking his face.

It was a harsh reminder of reality, but one that was sorely needed. By some miracle, she may have been physically attracted to him, but that didn't matter. Not when he still didn’t have lips to kiss her with, or body heat to keep her warm. Not when he couldn't give her children, couldn't even get it up for her because his blood didn't fucking flow. Not when he couldn’t take off his damn mask because he was afraid the sight of his face would give her nightmares.

It didn't matter if she got wet when he touched her, not when he couldn't love her like she deserved.

So instead of pressing any further, he contented himself with what he had—which was far more than he ever thought he would get. The peace it brought him just to rest his head against her leg like this while she petted his hair, to be so close to her and bask in her comfort—it was a gift. One he hadn’t earned but would cherish nonetheless.

After nearly an hour, his dove’s fingers slowed and then finally stopped as she drifted off to sleep. He looked up, surprised. She never let him be so close when she slept. Whenever there was a door she could put between them, she did, and when there wasn’t, she would put as much space as she reasonably could between them. Always on the other side of the campfire, or tucked in a tree hollow only she could fit in. And even then, she’d stay awake until she physically couldn't anymore, heartbeat fast anxious the entire time.

He tried not to take it personally. He was a zombie, of course she was afraid of him suddenly going feral and attacking her while she slept. But the closer they grew, the more it bothered him.

So his dove finally trusting him enough to fall asleep, practically in his arms? He felt higher than a fucking cloud.

He laid his head back down, but continued to stare up at her, happy to watch her peacefully sleeping face and revel in her warmth.

Several hours passed before Lelia was visited by her usual nightmares.

Ghost could tell, because she began to twitch and whimper, calm expression replaced with one of fear and pain, brows drawn together and bottom lip wobbling. Nonsensical pleas escaped her, and tears began to stream down her face. He sat up straight, reaching out to cup her cheek with one hand, the other moving to hold her own. But the second his fingers touched her, Lelia screamed in pure terror, glassy eyes flying open but unseeing.

“Please!” She sobbed as Ghost instinctively pulled her closer to try and comfort her. “No! Stop! Stop!”

Immediately, he let go of her, hands hovering uselessly over her flailing limbs as she tried to fight off her imaginary attacker.

He went through his entire vocabulary of reassuring noises, from groans to grunts to coos, but she didn't seem to recognize any of it. Frustrated, and growing more panicked the longer Lelia continued to sob and beg, he tried to force his ruined mouth to same her name, over and over.

Lelia. Lelia. Lelia. Lelia. Lelia. Lelia.

All that came out was incomprehensible growls and gurgles, though he could feel his throat straining, the vocal chords fluttering like they did when he laughed. He kept trying.

“Llll— Lllleee— Lllluhhh—”

It was no use. His jaw was fucked even if he could manage to actually make the sounds. Her name was just too complicated.

But she was in pain. He could see it on her face. Whatever was happening to her in her dream was hurting her.

And Simon promised he would always protect her.

“Dddd— Ddddoooovveeee…”

The word was garbled and raspy, difficult to understand—but it was a word. The first word he’d spoken since turning. Since dying.

It was fitting, since he hadn’t truly felt alive again until he'd met her.

“Dddooovvee. Dddoovvee. Ddoovvee—” I’m here, my dove, I’m here, you’re safe now, I promise. “Dddove!”

Lelia gasped, her thrashing ceasing as her eyes cleared. She looked around the dark room, confused and still afraid—but when she recognized her zombie’s pale, reflective eyes, her face crumpled and she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest.

“S-Simon,” she cried, whole body trembling as he pulled her close, one hand rubbing her back, the other petting her hair. “I dreamed— A-Andrew was— he was—”

Lelia’s voice cracked and she sobbed harder, remembering her nightmare—every sordid detail. And they all came pouring out.

“He w-was inside me,” she whimpered. “I w-was asleep and then— and then th-there was pain and I woke up and— and h-he was on top of me and— and—” she sucked in a shuddering breath, “and he— he c-covered my mouth so I c-couldn’t scream but— but I c-couldn’t breathe either and it h-hurt so badly, it always hurt so badly—”

Simon’s arms were impossibly tight around her, almost crushing her to his chest. Lelia didn’t mind. She wanted to be as close to him as physically possible—would have crawled inside his ribcage and nestled next to his unbeating heart, if she could have. She knew she would be safe there. Simon always kept her safe.

The growl he let out at her words was low and furious, but wounded, too. She sniffled, feeling guilty. He probably didn’t want to hear about what Andrew did to her… she was selfish for dumping it all on him.

“I-I’m sorry,” she whispered, trying to pull away, feeling ashamed. Simon didn't let her, cooing in her ear softly. And then, dragged out and mangled, he spoke.

“Dddddoooovvvveee…”

Lelia looked up at him in shock as her brain tried to parse what she’d just heard. Dove. A word, not just one of the deep, throaty noises he used to communicate.

“Did you— Oh my days, Simon! You just— you just spoke!” She yelled, her nightmare completely forgotten. She cradled Simon’s face in her small hands, smiling so widely it hurt. They were so close, chests pressed together as he held her in his lap. Close enough to kiss. “But… why did you say dove?”

Simon’s hands dragged up her sides till they reached her own face, and his cold, thick fingers gently traced each and every one of her features—the arch of her brows, the slope of her nose, the roundness of her cheeks, even the bow of her lips. She blushed deeply at that, heart stuttering in her chest, belly squirming and skin tingling where he’d touched her.

“Dddooovvee,” he repeated. Saliva pooled in his mouth and dripped down his chin. Then, even more carefully, and less understandable, “Lllleeehh— Llll— Llllluuuhhhh.”

Despite the garbled mix of vowels and consonants, she understood him—“Dove. Lelia.”—and it took her breath away.

“I’m Dove?” She asked, voice small but so very moved. Simon groaned affirmatively, fingertips pressed lightly against her cheeks. She smiled at him, expression soft and gooey as a marshmallow. “Is that what you call me in your head? Your dove?”

Simon’s cloudy eyes flickered away from hers, even as he nodded, his shoulders hunched in embarrassment. Lelia laughed, pure and sweet and joyful. Her hands still cupped his face, and she wiped away his drool with the sleeve of her jacket, smiling at him adoringly.

“Sometimes I call you my zombie,” she admitted, tracing the edges of his mask with her thumbs. She wanted so badly to take it off and see his face. But she wouldn’t. She wouldn't break his trust in her. “But mostly I just call you Simon. Like you asked me too.”

Simon’s eyes crinkled, and he closed the minuscule distance between them so their foreheads touched for a brief moment. A silent thanks.

Lelia stared into Simon’s cloudy eyes. She once again wondered what color they had been, before. She was so close to him, she almost thought she saw little glimpses of dark brown—but it had to be just the shadows playing tricks. It was nearly pitch black in the room, after all.

Suddenly, Lelia yawned, her nose bumping against the bottom of his mask. Simon quickly pulled back, arms snaking around her waist as he got to his feet, lifting her up and adjusting her so he was carrying her bridal style. Lelia let out a little eep of surprise, making Simon chuckle. She could feel the vibrations of it against her cheek where it rested on his chest, and she blushed at how nice it felt.

Simon brought her into the bedroom, carefully pulling back the blankets and then laying her down to tuck her in. Once he’d piled up as many blankets on her that he could find, he moved to leave, and Lelia’s hand shot out, fingers wrapping around his thick wrist.

“Stay?” She asked, voice small and hopeful. Simon froze, and Lelia tugged lightly on his arm. She had no hope of actually pulling him into bed with her, but she wanted him to know she was serious about her request.

Finally, Simon groaned quietly in agreement, and then silently got into bed next to her, laying down on top of the blanket. He kept several inches of space between them, and Lelia scooted over so she could lay on his chest. Her eyes fluttered shut, and though there was no soothing heartbeat under her ear or comfortable warmth emanating from Simon’s body, she felt safer than she had in a long time as she drifted off to sleep.

[sanarsi]

hello, my dearest Nari 🧡

with this ask I challenge you to write a ficlet (or anything bigger if you want) inspired by this screenshot:

may the writing muses be with you,

kissing you on your forehead (if you allow it not then just waving from the distance!)

ps almost sent you nudes

Father’s Love

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: Life is a bitch that can surprise with reverse version of Joel’s nightmare. Warnings: angst, canon violence, child!reader Wordcount: 1,2k An: I wanted to write more so I don’t promise there won’t be a part 2. A wonderful plot twist was created in my head ugh. This is a part of this -> challenge by my lovely Aly (literally my muse) who almost!!! sent me dirty things.

Masterlist

Joel knew what he needed to survive.

As luck would have it, everything was within reach.

A working car, a gun and ammo, food supplies, and a few other things. The only thing standing in his way was a man, tall man and obviously well-trained, maybe a military? Joel had killed a lot of people and felt no inhibitions about doing it again, especially with such good loot waiting for him.

So he waited, hidden in the bushes, and silently just watched.

He wanted to wait until dark, maybe even until the man fell asleep, but the perfect opportunity presented itself earlier. The universe itself was giving him signs that he had to do it. And he had to do it now.

As quietly as he could, he reloaded his weapon, never taking his eyes off his enemy. The man sat with his back to him, completely unaware of anything, changing the bandage on his foot.

There was no better opportunity and Joel knew it. So he pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed through the forest and birds fled from nearby trees. He only watched as a limp body with a hole in its head fell to the ground. After that, there was dead silence.

He waited a moment, but definitely too short, before he decided to come out of hiding.

Maybe if he had stuck to his own principles back then he wouldn’t have done almost something he would regret for the rest of his life.

Hearing was faster than his sight at someone’s footsteps, he automatically aimed the gun in that direction. For a moment he didn’t know if he saw correctly when a child appeared in front of him. A little girl who was terrified and trembling with fear.

She looked exceptionally well-groomed. Unworn jeans, a sweatshirt and sneakers that looked almost new. No scars or dirt on her face. But it was her eyes that gave away the most — she didn’t see much evil. She looked as if Joel was the first person to make her realize that such a thing really existed.

Joel let out a slow breath and relaxed his muscles as he looked at her longer and longer. He lowered the gun a bit and with every passing second he saw her more closely, clearly. He felt a growing weight in his chest, as if the consequences of his actions were looking at him with those big tearful eyes. He didn’t want to think about what appeared in his head at the thought of the child but when her gaze fell on the body lying a few feet behind him, he knew that the weight of guilt was just starting to crush him. Slowly and painfully.

“Daddy?” Her soft, breaking voice pierced the heavy silence. He shivered at the sound, so reminiscent of the one that followed him in his nightmares. Tears welled up in his eyes and he didn’t fight them when they started to roll down his cheeks.

Karma caught up with him in the worst possible way.

For the first time in several long years, he felt like he had failed again. Like his nightmare had become reality again, but this time, he was the one who caused all the evil.

He knew that with another burden he could not continue to live. He could not allow his nightmare to gain the strength to crush him.

So he let his instincts take over again.

“Hi kiddo,” he said in a slightly hoarse voice and managed a gentle smile. The girl met his gaze again. Tears refused to escape her eyes. “What’s your name?”

Joel watched as she clenched her fists tighter around the sleeves of her sweatshirt and shook her head, clearly not wanting to answer his question.

“’s all right,” he tried to assure her. As proof of his words, he slowly crouched down and tossed the gun aside. “See? I won’t hurt you.” He spread his arms in a friendly gesture and, despite the tears glistening on his cheeks, tried to look friendly.

You had to trust him. He had no other choice now.

“You seem like a smart girl.” He smiled wider. He almost managed to ignore the pain in his heart. “I’m sure your dad taught ya a lot of things, right?”

She nodded uncertainly. He tried to stop himself from moving too aggressively, not wanting to scare her. But the urge to grab her in his arms now and apologize for what he had done was overwhelming, almost unbeatable.

“Your daddy tell you how to cope when he can’t do it for ya?”

She denied again, “No.” Her soft and uncertain voice almost broke him in half.

He could hardly believe that after everything he had experienced, he found himself again in the same and yet completely different position as so many years ago. But life was a bitch.

“Can I show ya?” he asked, wanting to give her a choice, an illusory possibility, but she was just a child. A child he had hurt just as someone had hurt him.

Her chin quivered as she nodded, “’kay.” She was on the verge of tears. Her small body was shaking, whether from the cold or the emotion he didn’t know, so he barely managed to restrain himself from pulling her into a tight embrace.

“I know you’re a tough girl,” he praised her with a wide smile he was holding with all his strength. “You’re smart and I’m sure you could handle any obstacle, right?”

She listened to him carefully. She was fully focused on him and that made things much easier. She had to see only him, she couldn't look at the dead body lying behind him.

She couldn't.

“Mhm,” she murmured softly, clenching her fists tighter.

“Attagirl.” He laughed through his tears and took a deep, calming breath. “Your daddy said if he couldn’t take care of you,” he began slowly, moving closer to her. She wasn’t afraid. She didn’t back down. “I have to do it for him.”

He stopped in front of her and watched her reaction. She seemed to process his words, as if she didn’t understand their meaning. Seeing her confusion, he slowly knelt down in front of her with a warm smile and watched the confusion in her eyes for a moment.

She was so small, so innocent and pure…

“So you are my daddy now?”

And he barely stopped himself from choking on his tears.

He sobbed, covering his mouth and nodded without thinking. He couldn’t hesitate. He couldn’t let you see his hesitation. So he was sure of his new role. He was sure that he had to become a father again.

And he became it the moment she pressed herself tightly against his chest, burying her face in his neck, and his arms closed her tightly.

He felt it. Again. The strength that came from holding a small being in his arms, someone who depended only on him. And this time, he knew he wouldn’t fail, can’t fail.

Tags: @syd-djarin @yorksgirl @puduvallee @luciaispunk @theoraekenslover @bbyanarchist

[greenleaf4stuff]

It’s New Year’s Eve in Middle Earth and midnight approaches.

Who is grabbing whom for a smooch? How does it go down?

If you can give three pairings that’s great, no limit though 😉 repeats are fine too.

Hi and thank you so much @gauntletgirlie for sending me this lovely ask game! It is truly the time of giving (smooches) <3 Again, lots of fun to think up some kissing scenarios for this one! I'll put them behind the cut again, and as the prompt implies, there be kissing ahead! All of these are Adar-related btw :) (I wrote these down in like an hour) (also each ask game the answers are getting longer oops)

The pairings:

Adar/Celebrimbor/Elrond

Adar/Celebrimbor (established, modern!AU)

Adar/Elrond (canon!AU)

...

...

Adar/Celebrimbor/Elrond

Elrond glanced between the older elf and the uruk, a look of indecision on his face. "Um-"

There wasn't a way to kiss both of them at the same time, was there? Not without crushing their noses and possibly knocking their teeth against each other, at least. But who should he kiss? He couldn't deny either of them. He just couldn't!

They might both be different in character, temperament, appearance, but he liked them equally. He'd just told them as much recently, for Eru's sake! He couldn't choose one over the other now! Not for something important as this!

He heard counting in the background, a countdown not into the New Year but to his own doom, or so it felt.

In a panic, he did the only thing he thought he could do-

And grabbed the back of both their heads in each of his hands, and gently but insistently moved their faces together until they kissed (with a look of surprise on their faces, but even so-).

'There! Problem solved!' he thought, adrenaline briefly surging and then falling in relief. (He knew they wanted each other too. They'd discussed this. The only thing they hadn't discussed was that blasted New Year's kiss.)

"Oh no, wait- my bad-," he suddenly heard behind himself. It was Círdan. "I miscalculated it seems! It's actually still one minute to midnight. Well, that gives us the chance to count once more, doesn't it?"

Elrond felt himself blanch slightly as Adar and Celebrimbor turned towards him, eyebrows raised. "What was that?" Adar asked. It didn't sound accusing, but oddly curious. A bit amused.

"Erm-"

"I suppose he thought this was a clever solution. Have us kiss so he wouldn't have to choose one of us over the other," Celebrimbor deduced and Elrond silently cursed himself because his friend knew him too well to not have figured it out. Again.

"Oh, is that so?" Adar asked, and he sounded just as amused as Celebrimbor had. "Well too 'bad' that we get a second chance then."

Elrond blinked at them in surprise and question, and only realised what was going on when he felt two hands at the back of his head just as the countdown neared "3...2...1" again.

...it was, indeed, a mess of noses knocking together and teeth clicking and even a bit of spit getting smeared, between the three of them. Messy, uncoordinated, but somehow - it still worked out.

Elrond moaned in delight, smiled into the kiss, and let the other two pull him closer into an embrace.

Adar/Celebrimbor (established, modern!AU)

The party had nearly reached it's apex, which meant Adar was close to having reached his maximum amount of social interactions for the night and was beginning to eagerly await going home with his fiancé.

As it stood, he couldn't find Celebrimbor amidst the crowd of people as he scanned it, making him frown. Galadriel must have seen the way he wandered around searching for the smith, because she caught his eye and motioned towards the kitchen with her glass of champagne, a small smile on her face.

Adar followed her pointing, and indeed, he could hear puttering and the sound of dishes getting cleaned coming from there - in combination with some truly awful music from the radio. He exchanged a mildly exasperated glance with the blonde elf, before he thanked her with a nod and walked into the kitchen.

Celebrimbor stood at the sink, garishly golden rubber gloves on his hands - where did Gil-Galad even *find* those things!? - as he hummed along to some corny pop music while he scrubbed at a plate from their dinner earlier.

Adar shook his head, but his expression was one of fondness. He turned down the radio to announce himself and stepped up behind the elf, wrapping his arms around the other's waist, head coming to rest on his fiancé's shoulder in an easy display of intimacy.

"Why am I not surprised to find you here?" he murmured, and pressed a kiss to Celebrimbor's cheek. The smith smiled as turned over his shoulder to look at the uruk. "You know you don't have to clean those dishes now, do you?"

"Hm," Celebrimbor replied, and leant back into the embrace. "I needed a bit of time away from the noise I suppose. Thought nobody would begrudge me that if I did something useful."

"Clever," Adar admired him, and his smile turned soft. "Remarkably selfless, too."

"Well, I suppose you'd know about all that as well, wouldn't you?" They stared at each other lovingly. They were so enarmoed with one another, they almost missed it when loud, shouted counting began in the living room.

"10...9...8..."

They didn't have to ask. Aside from a moment of surprise, nothing much changed. They remained as they were.

"7...6...5.."

Their noses brushed, eyes half-lidded. Neither had seen the other look so soft before. "A good way to end the year, don't you think?" Celebrimbor murmured.

"4...3...2..."

"Couldn't imagine a better one," Adar answered, and smiled as a leant forward.

"1...0!"

They kissed. Celebrimbor still had his hands in the soapy water of the sink as they stood in the kitchen amidst dirty dishes and empty cups, god-awful music quietly playing in the background. The position of the embrace would give the smith a slightly sore neck later, but-

Neither of them cared for the moment. This, right here - was perfect.

Adar/Elrond (canon!AU)

New Year's was a surprisingly official and festive affair in Lindon, Adar had quickly learned. He and his children had rarely celebrated the turning of the year before, but their treaty with the elves was beginning to influence their traditions.

Unlike the elves with their harps and flutes and harmonious singing, their festive modes of dress and expertly prepared feasts, the uruk had taken a much more grounded approach to the festivities.

Adar could hear them belt out yet another battle song, and judging by the barrels that got rolled towards the improvised 'tavern', the drink was flowing freely as well. Everywhere he went, he saw celebrations of the peace, open fires that cooked delicious-smelling stews and roasted meat, groups of uruk gathered together.

He himself would let his children enjoy the time of levity - but he found himself too tired to join in. The noise, how they all wanted to draw him to their sides so he might join them in song and drink, it was - just too much. As much as he loved them.

He paused in surprise when he finally arrived at his own tent and found he had a visitor.

"What brings you here?" He asked, surprised to find Elrond at the entrance. He hoped the other knew the visit was not an unwelcome one - the two of them had danced around one another for weeks now. Adar had hoped to see the other again, but had expected the peredhel to spend this time with his family and friends in Lindon.

Elrond smiled and offered a greeting. "My friend. It is good to see you," he paused. Adar noticed the other was breathing heavily and had a flushed face, as if he'd hurried to get here. "I- there is something important I wished to do. I feared I might have been too late."

Adar immediately raised his eyebrows and focused on the herald in concern. "Is something the matter?"

The other waved him off, but gently so. "No, no- nothing that should alarm you. Just something that was important to me, is all-"

Adar wanted to ask another question, but the uruk in the wider vicinity around them erupted into loud counting - it seemed the turning of the year was almost complete.

The leader of the uruk startled slightly when he felt gentle, wind-chilled hands on his face, and turned towards the herald only to find the other looking at him with hopeful eyes.

With a start, he understood. "May I kiss you?" How brave this one was, to hurry over here and place all his hopes on a kiss.

"I'd like nothing more," the uruk breathed back, and framed Elrond's face with his own hands, mindful of the gauntlet, before he pulled the other closer.

Elrond was smiling into the kiss, Adar could tell. His face felt chilled too, and Adar thought that he would like nothing more than to take the herald inside and wrap him into warg furs before offering him a warm drink and some food.

But that could wait. For now, there was only the press of soft lips on his own, hands that held him gently as if he was precious, and something blooming in his own chest as the countdown ran down to midnight.

[m4rki3fox]

When did you get the impression that I had lost feelings for you? When did you become comfortable telling me about every crush you have, as if i won't get jealous? Why do you ask me for help, not expecting me to give you the worst advice possible?

I stand, waiting, with my ribs pried apart, empty and expecting your heart. Yet you still run around, chasing people to give it to who have their chest sewn up. I'm here, ready and willing for you, waiting to be a shoulder for you to cry on, but you dont. Im still here, with dry shoulders, and my legs are getting tired. You don't see me as important as I see you. You are the sun, and I the earth, orbiting around you, loving you, worshipping the ground you walk on, yet, you don't acknowledge me. you don't acknowledge my love.

[diivineray]

My friend having boy trouble and me once again telling them that men ain’t shit

[yume-no-miya]

look i love making sae be the one who's so in love and showering hajun with so much love and affection but it's much more fun to think that HE fell harder than her