#Carries a large knife around in hopes it helps him

[feoistooshort]

child Kylar take 2

[dropsnectar]

Your Puppy Siren!: When a Siren becomes a House Husband

PART TWO

NSFW

Obviously, when Baby got his legs, you couldn't just abandon him. You weren't sure exactly what was next for the two of you,, so you took it one step of a time. Baby had an issue with that, as balance wasn't necessarily a skill he could magic up with his oceanic enchantments.

He leaned on you the whole way home, taking jerky steps through the grasses.

When you showed him around the house, and the first thing he did was ask where you slept. You had shown him your bedroom and he immediately made himself comfortable about the blankets and pillows. You set him up with a copy of ‘The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe”, before going to make him dinner: mild Japanese curry. 

It was mostly vegetables, as you had only had a few ounces of ground beef left, but you hoped his stomach was as human as his now legs. His whole body had changed, leaving him now almost albino pale, with large dark eyes that were still a bit too big for his human face.

When you went to walk him to the dining room table, you found him standing, holding the book to the ceiling as he read. He was leaning back and forth on each foot, as if the movement kept him upright. Perhaps he still had his sea legs under all that new skin. 

He still needed your help to get to the table but his steps were more sure now. He ate the food happily, making sure to compliment you whenever possible. On the way back to your room, Baby could now keep his balance as he went. The first thing he did was gather as many pillows and blankets as he could from the living room, before leading you by the hand to your room, and arranging them further on the bed.

“Do you like it?” He asked, eyes eager. It had never occurred to you that Sirens may nest, but you took it in stride.

“It looks very warm.” you apeased, tired. 

Sleeping on the nest didn't go as bad as you thought, but Baby had been a bit confused when you had tucked a blanket around the two of you

“It's to keep us warm.” 

He had responded by pulling you to his arms and wrapping his legs around you.

“I can do that just fine.” He beamed. You laughed and let him hold you as you fell asleep. You could figure out Baby's fate tommorrow.

You had always pushed off the deciding of Baby's fate to tommorrow. You couldn't face it. Going to your part time job, then nursing school had been difficult for you. You were exhausted everyday you came back home.

Baby made himself as useful as he could. You had taught him some of the basics of cleaning the house. He had seemed somewhat confused by the idea of cleaning, but he took it upon himself to make sure the place was gleaming when you got home. You had taken him to the library a day after his legs sprung up, and he had carried home a pile of books, one of them being “Martha Stawarts Complete Guide to Housekeeping”.

 You hadn't resided in the place long, but places you hadn't even realized were dirty were suddenly sparkling and smelling lightly of lavender and orange peels. 

He had also brought home a whole pile of fish. It seemed that he could now shift his form back and forth at will. You remember coming home, sweat covered and in need of ibuprofen, when you found a pile of fish on the kitchen table. He had looked so proud if himself.

“We can keep them all in the freezer! What a useful device!”

You had gently taken his arms in hand and explained that humans weren't able to eat fish whole like sirens could. They had to be stripped of their scales and deboned. He seemed a bit tired by this, yet another a strange human quirk, but had taken it in stride. Per his request you had set him up with an instructional video on the subject. 

He seemed to catch on pretty quickly, the only difference was that rather than using a sharp knife, he had preferred to use his talon like nails. They were retractable, he clarified later, and arguing they were cleaner than any knife when you had demanded he washed his hands before working.

“They will only get dirty again anyway!” He had argued, one of the few times he had ever done anything but smile at you. The concept of germs was met with raised eyebrows and apprehension. 

For the first time in your life, you gave him “the look”. As this seemed to be a communication move that spanned species, he gave in, washing his talons? Claws? Before going back to his work.

A silent system had begun to flesh itself out. You brought home the money and groceries, and did most of the cooking, he did everything else. And anything you asked of him. Which wasn't much, but he became more and more useful by the day. 

You couldn't help but feel a bit proud for Baby. The more you learned about him and Siren Life the more different the two of you seemed. But he had been adjusting so well, you almost didn't have to worry about him. Plus, it was hard to be mad at someone who made a point of taking care of you, like he did. 

He gave you shoulder messages, microwaved old dinners when you didn't feel like eating. Hed shush you, and sometimes carry you to bed, petting your hair and singing you to sleep everytime everything felt like too much. And that was often. 

It had been a week since he had taken up shop in your bedroom, and reality reared its big fat head like a snake. You had been whisked away to bed, and instead of cooing at you and humming that impossibly sweet voice of his, he had started to nibble on the side of your neck, hands reaching towards your pajama shorts. His tongue felt so incredibly good, and his touch was like silk, but you knew where this would leave.

“Stop. We don't have any protection.”

He had frozen and blinked at you, expression changing to the barely concealed mask of an adult trying to not laugh at a child's sudden declaration.

“If I sense any danger, I will deal with it immediately. Now come here…” His voice grew husky. You trailed back.

“I know we haven't talked about this before but what if… well you're a human so im not sure if it'll be the same but… I can't get pregnant. I don't know if it works the old fashion way or you might lay eggs in me or something but… we need to be careful.”

He was still smiling but he was biting his lip. “While I DO lay eggs, that part of me hasn't changed, I don't understand why it would be an issue. I am your husband, after all, shouldn't it be normal to have children at some point?”

“H-husband? Why do you think you're my husband?”

Babys face changed, the closest you had ever seen him get to upset. “We mated, we share a nest, how am I NOT your husband?”

“We had sex, yeah, but we didn't get married. Do Sirens mate for life? Is that why you think this?” 

His expression grew animated and confused.

“Sirens do not mate for life, we have breeding seasons. But Humans mate for life, do they not? Why do you think I have been doing all this? I mean, I even made you a nest and you slept with me in it! How much more is their to a human marriage ritual?” 

You stared at him, the realization dawning. You slowly put your hand over his and arranged your expression to one of patience.

“Humans used to mate for life. But ita a bit different now. We can have sex, even spend years courting before we agree to marry.”

Baby just stared at you, his confusion and anger turning to one of hurt.

“B-but what does that mean? I told you, I love you. I want to be with you.” He leaned forward tears starting to glisten at the corner of his eyes.

“I wanted a life with you. I threw my old life away the moment I got these legs. I have no idea where my pod is now, I can not return to them. I do not wish to return. I want to stay here, with you and be your mate.” He nuzzled his nose against yours and then took your cheeks in his hand. He gazed into your eyes, filled with longing.

“I may be new to being your partner; at being Human too. But I will do whatever you ask of me. Please. Be mine?” 

He started to kiss your forehead. Then your eyes. Then your cheeks. His gaze strayed to your lips and he whined out, full blown tears now streaming from his eyes. 

“I'll be so good. So good for you.” 

Your heart went out to him. You had to admit, life had gotten so much easier to bear since he had entered it. No one could make you laugh like he could, could make you as curious as he could, could kiss you like he could. 

You thought about it. Genuinely thought about it. You had a job, and nursing would pay you enough to pay for both of your lives once you started. You'd have to teach him how to properly navigate human society but he was so smart and charming, you were sure he would do so well. You came up with so many reasons why it could be doable, but the most important one was you didn't want to let him go.

“It'll be really hard for you. Are you sure you want this?” You whispered. “Want… me? You could spend the rest of your life sharing your season with mate after mate. Are you sure you would want to spend the rest of your days with me?”

He looked at you with intensity, the light finally dawning across his features. 

“It will always be you.” And then he was on you. Was kissing you.

He was quick to take off your clothes, and did the same. His mouth was hot and needy, the feeling of his tongue in your mouth being everything you could ever want. That was except for one or two other places. 

As if he could read your mind, he grinned, pulling himself down to stare at your groin, fingers grasping, teasing and exploring every sensitive curve and crevice. Then he got to work with his mouth and you groaned, your core turning molten. You could hear the noises of his mouth on your flesh, and it made your cheeks overheat. 

His tongue glided around you as he sucked with his full mouth, making you shake and jerk under him. He made sure to pin you down with his hands now, before he started to trill and sing around you.

You chocked, pushing your hips up against his big string hands, which were now a mix of grey and white. It seems he had been riled up to, as his form was caught halfway between human and Siren. It was a new sight and he was absolutely gorgeous and one long note made you crash over the edge, toes and fingers curling. 

The whole time his eyes were on you, gauging your reaction. He continued to auck you through the high but now started clawing at your entrance, circling slick little shapes. He seemed to take great joy in this, teasing your ache, before he plunged his fingers in making you choke and sigh all at once. When he was certain the area was worked enough, he gave you big puppy dog eyes. 

“Can I be yours again?” He whispered huskies slowing the rate of his fingers. You nodded and he pulled himself up, pumping his own cock a few times making sure it was properly slick. His cock was half transformed too. It was extremely veins and the ridges weren't as pronounced, but he was thicker. You licked your lips as you remembered how he felt inside you.

Aware that you were watching him he keened in pride. He then slowly inserted himself, pushing further and further until you took every inch of him. You gasped out and clawed at the sheets in pleasure as he pumped you, his own eyes glazing over as he unleashed low, pornagraphic moans. He was louder than he had ever been, snapping his hips into yours, fingers clutching deep into skin. He looked completely blissed out as he rocked himself into you, huffing and moaning.

“Sound. So. Beautiful.” You breathed, knowing he was getting close. You could feel a heaviness now in the air. He wouldn't be able to help it. He'd be so drunk he'd use that song of his and you'd cum and cum for him until he was too far in exctasy to make any noise. And you were right.

You could tell he was holding it in. But he couldn't help but hum out, a song that seemed to cup and penatrate your very soul, making your entire mind stuffy and silly. You didn't want him to stop, going over the edge as another one of his moans turned into a full blown note. He kept bucking into you, skin slapping skin, as he keened and hummed and sang out for you. He wanted you to feel good. Wanted you to cum and feel good only for him. Because you were his.

When you felt his cum splash inside you it was warm, and more sludge like. It took a while to seep put of you. A comedic point in the back of your mind noted, “No eggs”. 

He pulled himself to your side, pulling you tight to him. “Can… can I stay in you for a while?” He said it in a light begging tone. You nodded, a pulse of faraway pleasure as he pushed his soft dick inside you again. It felt nice, being one with him in this sweet comfortable moment.

You wanted to ask him about the magic, about the song and how for just a moment, it was like you could read his mind. But their was something so special about the moment, you didn't want to push him too far. Maybe next time, you could egg him on to use that power on you, to be completely encompassed by his pleasure and song. 

“I know your tired, and we can wait but… can we do it again?” He pushed his nose to yours and traced it up and down, his eyes watery and begging. You could feel his dick twitch inside you. 

“Please just let me spoil you. It is our wedding night after all…”

You had to stop yourself from correcting him. Tomorrow you would explain vows and wedding ceremony, but for now you'd just give in. But you had to admit, now a big piece of you belonged only to him.. So, in a way he had been right.

[o0sleepingdead0o]

Prepared for Anything

Part 2, MasterPost

Danny stared at the ceiling, bored, as the creepy clown laughed manically at a camera. Danny hadn’t been in this dimension for two minutes, (he’d portalled directly into Joker’s hideout) before he was promptly tied to a chair. He could get out of it easily.

Thing was, there were others here, restrained more thoroughly than Danny. They wore colourful, armoured suits and were obviously the vigilantes/heroes of this. . .place—Gotham? Danny’d heard the name mentioned a few times now—This Freakshow wannabe was obviously one of their villains. 

Danny had been hoping someone would show up without having to draw attention to himself. What was this dimension’s stance on halfas? Or ghosts?

But no one had come yet, it had been an hour, and he was getting stiff from sitting here so long without being able to move his limbs.

Danny heaved a loud, exasperated sigh-groan at the ceiling. The guy, face-painted like a toddler who’d gotten into their parent’s make-up, suddenly stopped monologuing. 

Good. It was getting annoying.

“Are you done yet?” Danny complained much like the impatient teenager he was. “I’ve got crap to do, wrap it up, would you?”

Danny came here to explore. He was not exploring. He should be exploring and it was all this dude’s fault.

Danny supposed he could go all ghost on him and bounce, but he came all this way. It wasn’t much of hassle, but still. Danny was stubborn. He knew this.

The warehouse was silent. The creepo wasn’t talking, anymore, he wasn’t doing anything, and Danny deigned to lift his head from where it’d been thrown back on the chair.

The costumed people were looking at him in horror.

Danny wasn’t sure why.

The walking fashion disaster began to cackle with condescending amusement.

Yeah, okay, whatever.

Danny ignored the man’s delve into something about Danny’s impending doom, or threatening him with pain, and something, something, something. Something about broken this, burning that, yada, yada yada, when Danny got an idea.

Behind the chair where his hands were bound, knowing no one was behind him, he quietly broke the ropes on his wrists. The vigilantes—a red one with bandoliers crossing over his chest and one who wore a largely grey and black suit with an R emblem on the left side of his chest—were valiantly trying to dissuade the psycho to leave Danny alone, who now realized the said psycho was coming towards him, carrying a crowbar.

How original.

The Joker, as Danny heard someone call him at some point, he’s not sure when, leaned in close. His breath stank. 

Danny made a disgusted face. “Do you not brush your teeth at all? Gross, dude.”

“You won’t be mak—“

Danny punched him in the jaw. The guy went down pretty easily. 

Danny made an annoyed noise as he bent down to untie his ankles from the chair legs. He muttered to himself. “Stupid villains, always gotta get in the way, why can’t I just have one nice vacation, huh?”

“How did you do that?” 

Danny looked up at the red one. “Do what?” He asked, standing and stretching with satisfying pops.

“Get free.”

“Oh. . .” Danny reached into his hoodie sleeve and pulled out a small hand saw. He guessed he coulda used a knife, but it was the first thing he'd thought of.

The guy spluttered. “You just keep a saw in your sleeve?”

“Yep.” Danny popped the P. No need for them to know he can make portals. As tiny as needed. “You guys want help out of those, or what?” Danny gestured to the chains keeping the two bound on the floor.

“No, Joker’s goons outside probably has the keys, we have back-up. . . .coming. . . .where did you get that?”

Danny didn’t miss a beat as he crouched to get a grip on the chain with the large pair of bolt cutters. “Ah, ya know, never leave home without a good pair of bolt cutters.” He offered. The room they were in was pretty bare, saying he found it “lying around” wouldn’t work. It’d be pretty obvious.

“That is absurd.” The younger one said. “Where did they come from?”

Danny snapped the red one free and moved onto the angry eyebrows one. How did they still emote so well through those masks? “Just had it on hand.”

“But wh—“

“Oh look! There ya go! I gotta go, nice being held hostage with y'all.” Danny ignored their calls for him, climbing out of the nearest window and disappearing.

[amomentsescape]

I love your writing! Could I possibly get a Slasher X reader. One of the Reader ending up in the hospital for whatever reason. It could be over sickness or getting injured/hunt.

Slashers React to Reader Ending Up in the Hospital

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Warnings: Mentions of injury, illness, and killings

A/N: Thank you so much! Some of the Slashers were written outside of the hospital setting since I don't think all of them would be comfortable stepping out into public. I hope you still enjoy though!

Freddy Krueger

Freddy decided to pay you a visit in the real world when he hadn't heard from you in a few days

It wasn't like you to not say anything, and he was starting to get worried

But when he checked into your bedroom and found you nowhere in sight, he quite literally freaked out

(He may have visited some of your friends that night and threatened them to find out where you were)

When he finally found you in the hospital, he was even more worried

You could barely talk and your eyes were horribly bloodshot

It was only when you began coughing did he realize what was going on

"I haven't been able to close my eyes for more than 20 minutes without coughing" you hoarsely whispered to him

Despite wanting to take you back home with him, he knew better

He wasn't exactly a doctor, and he cared more about you getting better than you visiting him

So he let you be

He did help you with falling asleep though

And he visited you every night until you got better

He killed a couple nurses that he stated weren't taking care of you well enough though

Michael Myers

Yeah, he's pissed

He comes home, and you're not there?

Livid

Mostly at the idea that something happened to you, but he won't admit that the idea of you leaving him may have crossed his mind a couple times

But when he finds a note stating you were going to get yourself checked out at the hospital, he immediately heads out without a second thought

You have no idea how, but he sneaks in without anyone noticing him?

He immediately rips the blanket off of you and scans your body, trying to pinpoint what is wrong

It's only when he sees your bandaged leg that he meets your eyes

"I was trying to clean your knife, and it slipped..." you said like a kid about to be scolded

He shook his head at you and then lifted you into his arms, carrying you out of the room

While walking out, you happen to notice several dead bodies laying on the ground, blood pooling around them

Ah, so that's how he got in

Jason Voorhees

It was after the 5th night of not being able to breathe fully that you gave in, deciding to go to the hospital

You told Jason it would be super quick, but after a few hours, you still hadn't returned

Instead of just waiting a little longer like a normal person, Jason assumed that something terrible had happened and decided to make a public appearance

(Something he doesn't do often)

He headed into town and located the nearest hospital

Luckily, it was late by now, and the hospital wasn't quite as busy as normal

When he stepped inside, he just slammed down a piece of paper with your name on it, the front desk worker frantically typing in the computer

With how Jason looked and the size of his machete in tow, nobody even bothered to question him

When he was finally pointed to your room, he immediately picked you up and walked back out with you

After finding your doctor and making them give him your prescriptions, he was off to take you back home with him

He wouldn't dare spend even a single night without you

Thomas Hewitt

With the amount of meat hooks, knives, and scrapped bones around, it was a surprise you hadn't gotten into an accident sooner

You were a pretty clumsy person in general, so when you stumbled over a little dip in the tile floor of the kitchen, you instinctively reached your hand out to stop yourself

You managed to not hit the ground, but you sacrificed the palm of your hand in the process

A large butcher's knife was sitting on the counter, and it had sliced right into your skin

Thomas was rushing to your side in a hurry, frantically smooshing towels onto your wound to stop the bleeding

Despite his protests, you insisted on going to get looked at in the hospital

You were certain your hand was going to need stitches

While you were out, he just sat on the couch the whole time, staring at the wall

You promised to be back later, and so he trusted you

But there was no way he was going to be productive with you gone

Once were finally back, Thomas was quick to give you princess treatment

He makes you lay in bed while he brings you food, treats, and cuddles

He'll be watching you like a hawk for the weeks to come, that's for sure

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba was quite literally hanging onto your ankles as you tried to make your way through the door

He was blubbering like crazy

But this stomach flu you've been dealing with was making you miserable

You needed some type of medicine to sort yourself out, although Bubba disagreed

You told him you'd be back soon before giving one last shake and running out the door, leaving Bubba whining after you

He was yelling at basically everything and everyone, frantically storming around the house until you came back

He knew he wouldn't be able to go with you, but he hated you going anywhere by yourself

He was only calm again when you walked back through the door a couple hours later, some weird looking pills in hand

He'd be all over you after that, refusing to even let you go to the bathroom by yourself

And unfortunately for him, this attachment to you resulted in him waking up with the same stomach pains you had just a day later

At least you still had some medicine left, right?

Brahms Heelshire

So there's no way in hell Brahms would ever let you go to the hospital

When you accidentally tripped on the stairs, knocking yourself unconscious during the fall, Brahms was going through a mental breakdown

He didn't know how to help you

And despite all the shaking and slaps he could muster, nothing would wake you up

He finally gave up and decided to call 911

When the ambulance showed up, they were met with a grisly surprise

One of the medics was immediately killed upon entry, and the other was held at knife point, forced to call back and say everything was fine

Brahms then forced them to help you, watching their every move

It was only once your eyes fluttered open that his body relaxed

He quickly disposed of the other medic, immediately tending to you

But don't worry, Brahms would deal with the bodies and the ambulance later

He did it for you after all

Norman Bates

It was actually Norman's idea for you to go to the hospital in the first place

It wasn't like you to be dealing with a cold for this long, and he was beginning to get worried

He happily drove you there, patiently sitting in the waiting room as the doctor took you back to check you out

With a couple prescriptions (and a hefty payment) later, you were back at home with him, relaxing in bed

Norman made sure you always had some tea to drink and soup to eat throughout the night

He even ran the bath for you in hopes of opening your sinuses

He just seems like a normal, doting partner

But if the medicine doesn't seem to help soon, Norman supposes he may need to pay the doctor another visit...

Just to talk things over, of course

Billy Loomis

It's just a little cut, why do you need to go to the hospital?

You shouldn't have been playing with his knife in general

He told you it was dangerous

But he can take care of you himself, he's sure of it

But when he finds you gone just a few minutes later, he immediately becomes tense

Great

With a loud sigh and a few curse words later, Billy is out the door and driving after you

When he makes it to the hospital, he just storms inside

He ignores all the calls from staff to "come back" and to "not go in there"

He finds you talking with the doctor, a look of shock on your face

(You're not exactly sure how he knew which room you were in)

"Are we done here?" Billy grumbles

"You shouldn't be back here"

Billy rolls his eyes at the doctor

"Does it look like I give a shit?"

And with that he, grabs your hand and walks you out, being mindful of your bandaged arm

You're still not sure how you haven't received a bill from the hospital yet

In fact, you haven't heard back from the doctor at all in the past few days

Huh, weird

Stu Macher

Nothing about Stu is calm... ever

So the moment he realizes you aren't home at your normal time, he flips

Probably tries to call and text you numerous times

He even calls Billy who's like "how am I supposed to know??"

When you finally send a text back saying that you went to the doctor's, he quickly responds back saying he's coming to get you

He storms into the hospital like he owns the place, immediately asking the staff where you were

If any of them refuse, he gives them a wicked smile that makes them all uncomfortable

They give in quickly

Stu suddenly barges into your room asking "what's wrong" and "who hurt you?"

You almost laugh at his worry since all that happened was you falling due to being clumsy

He just sighs and shakes his head

"You should have called me"

Once you're all ready to go, he just walks out with you with your arm wrapped in his

He says goodbye to all the staff like nothing ever happened, but they all look a bit fearful

Eric Draven

After fighting with the flu for a good week, Eric decides he should take you to get checked out

Despite your protests, he insists he needs to take you and stay with you (just to make sure they hear you out and give you what you need)

Eric wouldn't hurt or threaten any of the hospital staff, but his presence alone is enough to make them feel intimidated

You're practically in and out within just 20 minutes

"That wasn't so bad, right?" he teased

You just give him a little shove

He pretty much dotes on you for the time being until you get better

Unlike most of the Slashers, Eric has no issues with you going to the occasional doctor's visit

He cares a great deal about your health and always wants what's best for you

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The speaker drones lowly, your playlist cycling through your most listened. You fall into your routine. You always liked cooking. It was always comforting. Your grandmother taught you all her favourite recipes whenever you came around. The familiar aromas bring back what can never truly be. 

You split the squash with a large knife, the thunk jarring you. You might not be the safest person in the kitchen but you’ve yet to do worse than a few nicks. You gut the seeds from inside and scoop in a heap of butter and brown sugar, then drizzle the rest with maple syrup. You’ll bake that while you work on the roast. 

The back door clatters and makes you flinch. Somehow, you almost forgot. That needling presence never really fades completely but you felt somewhat normal. 

You listen as Bucky lingers at the back door. He appears in the kitchen door as you look over. His grey jacket is streaked in dirt and his hands are similarly filthy. You give him a curious squint. 

“Got rid of that dead stump. Rot’s not good to keep around,” he explains. 

“Oh, right, you... wait? How did you do that? I was supposed to borrow Ian’s axe--” 

“Don’t need an axe,” he wiggles his vibranium fingers at you. “Gonna wash up. Anything I can help out with in here?” 

“Think I’m good,” you assure him, “I’m almost done.” 

“Mm, smells good,” he glances the pan of squash. 

“Hope so,” you reply. 

He watches you a moment before he turns away. His footsteps echo after him and fade into the soft music. You carry on, putting quartered onions and garlic cloves round the cut of meat. You baste and season, then put it all in the stove. 

You gather up the peels and seeds into your hands and head down the hall to toss it all in the compost. You get to the back door and clamour through, dumping it all into the barrel. You dust your hands off before you head inside. 

You didn’t notice the open door before. You’re slightly embarrassed as you glance over and catch Bucky lathering up his hands in the sink. You quickly flit away without another look. Oops. 

Cramped quarters are bound to get awkward but you hadn’t expected that sight. Bucky, shirtless, focused on his hands as he scrubbed away the dirt. You can see it vividly as you try not to think of it.  

The tortured flesh around his left shoulder, trimming the dark metal of his prosthetic, his other arm as hard as the other, firm and rounded with muscle. His chest full and just as taut, though his middle was softer. The little bit that stuck out over his pants and the extra layer of padding up his stomach filled him out, though there was strength woven into his entire body. 

You shake your head and swallow. You wipe down the counter and rinse off the used dishes and cutlery. You busy yourself and do your best to forget. 

You open the fridge and take out a bottle of sparkling water. You close it and nearly cry out as Bucky stands behind the door. He reaches up to grip the top of the fridge. He wears a fresh ribbed tank top, his arm flexing as he looms over you. 

“Mind grabbing me a beer, please and thanks.” 

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” you open the door again and take out a bottle of beer.  

“Sorry?” He echoes as the fridge closes with a nudge of your elbow, “for what?” 

“Um, nothing, just, didn’t hear you, I guess.” 

“Ah, so it’s not that Canadian thing you do?” 

“Canadian thing?” 

“You apologised for tripping earlier.” He shrugs as he accepts the beer. 

“Oh? Habit, maybe. I didn’t notice.” 

He chortles, “you know, I served with some Canadians. Good soldiers. They always show up.” 

“Wow, I... makes sense... my great grandfather served. Came back and drove a truck after,” you say. “My grandmother talked about him a lot but I was too young to remember him before he passed.” 

“Sorry,” he says, “ha, there I go, huh? Or is it eh?” You give him a look. He uncaps his beer and arches a brow. “What’s that for?” 

“What?” You wonder. 

“That look? Sam did say you could be a bit... never mind.” 

“He said I could be a bit what?” You twist of the plastic lid of your flavoured water. 

“Nothing, he always says shit, you know? Tells everybody I’m a grumpy old man. I’m old and I’m tired, not grumpy,” he insists as he leans on the counter and drinks his beer. As he does, he lifts his vibranium hand and picks at his thumb with the index. “Mm,” he pulls his lips off the neck, “you got a cuticle stick or something? This damn thing collects dirt like a broom.” 

“I might have something. Got Q-Tips,” you offer. 

“Whatever you got. I should probably clean this thing before dinner,” he says. 

“Sure, let me just go look.” 

You put your water down and squeeze past him. He doesn’t shy away, crowding you as you pass him. You don’t know if he’s just not paying attention or what.  

You go down to the bathroom and pull out the drawer. You wince as something rolls against the front. Shit. You really hope he wasn’t looking around already. You reach inside and take out the suction toy you shove it up your sleeve. Would he know what the silicon rose was? 

You search around and find a nail kit. You bought it thinking you were going to go camping but that never happened. Maybe next year. 

You dip into your room and tuck the silicon toy on the bookshelf then head back to the kitchen. You hand him the small case. “Brand new. You can keep it.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks,” he accepts it, wiggling it between his fingers, “I’ll just go... take care of this.” 

He drinks again from his beer and sidles through the doorway next to you. You slip through and retreat to the stove as warmth blooms around it. Is it the cooking that’s making you sweat or something else? 

[sexydoffyman]

Hi! So this is my first time requesting,, I have COD brain rot and I had this idea I thought you might like.

Forced proximity with Simon ghost Riley x male reader :D!!

If it’s spicy I’d absolutely love hair pulling and soft praise,, reader being bottom please! I don’t mind if it’s smut or not tho 🫶

IN THE TRUNK

navigation

genre: smut

A/N: Sup. I did the praise thing, but I couldn't find a way to add the hair-pulling. Enjoy! 🦆

You guys were on a mission together. Everything went well until it didn't. One of the soldiers got wounded and wasn't able to run. And with Ghost in charge of the mission, the rule "No man left behind" was never forgotten.

Ghost picked the wounded soldier up, but by that time, the enemy soldiers had caught up. Everyone scattered. Soon, there was no other option than to abort the mission.

Ghost commanded the team to run to the trucks that were hidden in a nearby forest. He threw the soldier to someone else and started looking for you. Hoping you were left unharmed.

He only met you a couple of days ago, but you caught his eye. You were an important asset to the team. You were smaller, so you could sneak around better and fit through places no one else could. You were also an amazing strategist and interrogator.

And for some reason, he couldn't take his eyes off you.

The way your smaller, flexible body moved when you dodged knife throws. The way you looked at him when everything was going exactly how it was supposed to go. The way you laid your head on his shoulder when you were exhausted.

You quickly found yourself messing with his pheromones. He felt like he needed to have you in his grasp and he didn't understand why. He wanted to touch you. He wanted to taste you. He wanted to make sure you are alright.

Your small size also resulted in you being a little slower than the others. He was aware of that, so he wasn't surprised when you had trouble catching up with the rest of the team.

He ran to you and picked you up bridal style. He ran fast even when carrying you. You being smaller helped him a lot since you were also lighter. He ran with you, seeing the last truck waiting for him and anyone else.

A few soldiers jumped into the car, and Ghost signaled the driver to start moving. The truck slowly took off as Ghost caught up with it, opening the trunk and jumping in it with you in his arms.

You closed the trunk from the inside. Ghost looked at you while gasping for air. You gave him a sweet smile knowing that the whole team is safe. "That damn smile." He thought. That damn smile that messed with him so much.

He squeezed into a slightly larger part of the trunk. You both look at each other awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. Ghost had his leg in front of him, managing to hide his erection. He would be really embarrassed if you caught him thinking like that about you.

The truck ran over a rather large speed bump. You were almost thrown at Ghost ending in your back smacked against his abs. You ended up being pushed into his lap by the way the truck moved.

There, you felt it. You felt the bulge in Ghost's pants. He wanted to get you off him to avoid being embarrassed even more. Instead, he grabbed your waist and pushed you closer to him. He knew the truck would still be moving rather roughly, and he didn't want you to get injured.

When the ride calmed down again you looked at him. "Don't talk about it." He almost barked out. "Being distracted like this won't do you any good in the field, sir." "Would you want me to help you out?"

He was blushing hard under his mask. "Sergeant, I am in no way attracted to you." He said defensively. "Then why are still holding me?" You questioned. He would think that you were teasing him, but your innocent eyes made him realize that you were genuine.

He sighed "Pants down, sergeant!" He commanded. "You're lucky these trunks are soundproof." He muttered against your neck. You slipped your pants down to your thighs he followed your movements.

"You sure you can take this?" He asked, grabbing your hips with the hand that was over you. "Yes, sir!" You answered and adjusted your body so he could slide his other arm under you and push you closer to his chest.

He didn't wait a second when he got an agreement out of you and thrusted his dick straight into your ass. You gave out a little whimper. He grabbed your chin to look away from him. You wondered why he did that only to feel his lips on your neck.

He took off his mask to kiss you.

Your stomach filled with butterflies as he started thrusting into you roughly. With each thrust, you let out a whimper. He stretched you out so good. "Good boy... keep... making those sounds." He stuttered struggling.

He didn't know it would feel so good. He just had to make sure you knew how happy he was. "You are such a good boy for me sergeant." "You feel so good." He was bruising your neck as he sucked on the skin.

He started hitting your prostate head-on which made you switch from whimpering to moaning. That made him go feral. He could feel himself getting close to seeing stars. He thrusted last time into you and filled you with his cum.

He didn't want to leave you unfinished, since you did so good. He grabbed your dick jerking it off until you came into his hand.

You both panted trying to catch your breaths. "Sergeant!" "Yes, sir?" "Just letting you know if I'm ever distracted again, I'll go straight to you."

You chuckled knowing that you signed up for a hell of a ride.

[trashmouth-richie]

Eddie x Fem! Reader

master list

w/c: 7k

A/N: this chapter is a little bit shorter than the last few but I hope you enjoy it regardless! huge s/o to @blueywrites + @jo-harrington for beta reading and helping me with parts ♥️

tw: 18+ no minors, depression, acts of depression, drinking excessively etc

Granules of brown sugar melt against heaping creamed rolled oats, nestled into the crisp white second hand vitrelle made Corelle brand bowls. The pattern of dainty brown flowers skim around the outer surface, one that Eddie is now rubbing softly with the pad of his thumb. 

He had never noticed them before this very moment. The guitar string callouses skid along the cool surface of the bowl. The familiar feel reminded him of the soft skin on your back as he held you while you slept, strumming along your body to the tired tunes of your breathing.

A song he’d listen to forever if he could. 

Eddie found himself noticing many new things he hadn't noticed before in the early daylight hours of the morning. He didn’t want to stir you, didn’t want to disrupt the beautiful sleepy angel next to him. Wrapping you tighter against him, pressing light kisses to your hairline, he soaked up the warmth of your skin against him. Drinking in your smooth breathing and matching it to his own. 

Fluttering heart beating wildly in his own chest, he can’t believe you are here with him. Last night felt too good to be true. All these months of lonely pining, unsure if you felt the same, only for it to be true that you wanted him as much as he had wanted you.

He was elated, heart overflowing and spewing candy hearts from his eyes and mouth at the weight of your body tucked into him, fitting like a glove against the bend in his arm. 

He was head over heels for you. 

A wave of assurance washed over him when he woke this morning and found you curled in on yourself, the cotton sheets wrapped tight up under your chin, slack lips open and your eyelashes laid sweetly against your cheeks. A breath of relief leaves his muscles— you’re still here. 

The rise and fall of your naked form when he pulled ypu into his side had him breathless upon first opening his eyes this morning. The sunlight basking through peaks in his bedroom curtains and providing enough light for the dust mites to dance their daylight waltz amongst the stuffy air and crowded surfaces in Eddie’s room. 

Cotton sheets dipped into your curves. The smooth skin of your cheek pressed into his own chest. The steady whirring noise of your breathing in and out of your nose with your lips closed delicately.  

Beautiful. Radiant. A thousand other adjectives he could use to describe you but there was only one he wanted to call you: his. 

The toaster erupts with a metallic clunk, bringing him back from his day dreaming and focusing again at the task at hand. 

Grabbing a knife from the silverware drawer, he smears cold butter against the warm toast, the knife scraping gently as the warm crusted pockets flood with butter and sweet grape jelly.

He finds himself daydreaming again. He pictures the corner of your lips coated in jelly, he’d reach forward and brush his finger against it, maybe his lips would kiss the crumbs away. You’d giggle at his stupidity and he’d melt like the butter into this toast at your warm smile. 

You were perfect. Everything he had wanted and more. And years of being friends, then enemies, then roommates and now lovers. He was giddy, stomach filled with snowflake flurries resembling a winter storm. 

He balanced the bowls of oatmeal in large hands, the toast cut in diagonals and stuffed like rabbit ears into the cooked oats. A pep in his step, he practically floated to his room, back to you, snug in his sheets, his pillows. He’s carried by the wings of the butterflies in his stomach. 

A tickle on your cheek has your eyelids fluttering slow, the cool feel of unfamiliar sheets twisted by your chin have you jumping in your skin, but the warm velvet voice in your ear whispering good morning greetings and a peck against your ear tames your heart and softens the goosebumps on your skin. 

The same calloused palms that held you in a protective manner last night now gently stroke the underside of your chin in a lazy pattern. Up the rounds of your cheeks, and circling the plump of your lips. Eddie’s hands are unusually warm against your skin, the heat from the bowls hot on his palms.

The mattress bends beneath his weight as he sits with one leg on the bed and leans on a hip over you. The bourbon colored ends of his curls sweep feather-like against your bare chest, like the white tufty pappus of a dandelion head.

You titter softly when his lips slide down your neck and blow a softened raspberry against your skin. 

“Good morning, baby,” he sighs beneath your ear. The pearls of his teeth graze your neck because he can’t stop smiling. The silk of your hands wrap around his arms, fingers gliding over the carve of his muscles. And your eyes finally flutter open. 

A halo of sunlight breaches his frizzy curls and pull every bit of amber from them, his smile cozy and familiar the warmth seeping through you as his blackened honey eyes drink you in.  

His eyes trail your sleepy features, caressing your skin with each slow drag across your face. Taking in every inch of you he can. 

“Sleep okay?” he purrs gently, planting a rose petal kiss on your lips. 

Last night was perfect, everything you had hoped for and more. 

You didn’t know sex could be so intimate, so passionate.  Feeling how much he cared about you with every kiss, every touch of his molten fingers on your skin. He gave you the love and adoration you had yearned for. And it felt good. 

So, so good. 

Something that delicious should be enjoyed again and again. An indulgence, a finger swiping into the edge of a frosted cake for temptation deemed too strong. But unlike the taste of frosting melting away on your tongue, craving more and wanting another taste, you couldn’t. 

Peering into his eyes, you can see how much he loved you. But the feeling sat sour on your tongue, and burned your belly in a lonely way.

But why? 

You could push through this right?

Didn’t you want this?

Want him?

Heart hammering for Eddie, all green flags and sticky love, kicking feet and giddy heated cheeks, but your brain was screaming another sound, ringing bells of unworthiness loud in your ears. 

You don’t deserve him. 

His love won’t last. 

A quick smile that doesn’t reach your eyes implants on your lips. Insecurity is evident among them when the twinkle of love is replaced by dark brooding agony. And if Eddie sees it he is blinded to it. So wrapped up in bubbly love for you he thought you hung the stars. 

The way his brown eyes are gazing at you hurts your heart. Before hot tears can fall down your cheeks you blink rapidly. Wells of salt stinging in your eyes as you swallow them down. 

Answering his question in a hushed almost whisper, you push yourself up on his mattress, clutching the sheet around your chest, suddenly aware of how naked you are. Bare beneath the sheets a once welcomed coziness now feels like shards of glass embedded into your skin. 

Your knees tuck up beneath your chest, in a small attempt to shield yourself more from the man you wanted to love but couldn’t. 

Eddie is all adoring dimples and pinked cheeks. His voice is laced with flowing sweet words of pleasantries. He places a pillow behind your back, so you can be comfy,. 

The act cracking your heart deeper waiting to be split like the thin shell on a peanut m&m. 

“I didn’t ask, but do you like oatmeal?” 

You’ve never known a single smile burrowing into your soul deeper than his does. But it aches and burns. Nose tingling bringing up another wave of tears, you simply nod, you wipe your eyes hastily with the back of your hand as Eddie turns and grabs the bowls. Oblivious to your turmoil. 

He brings the warm bowl of oatmeal to the bed and places it in your hands. Jelly having slid down the toast and snuggling with the brown sugar and oatmeal. Joining you on the bed Eddie sits beside you, his long legs stretched out in front of him as you sit shoulder to shoulder.   

You don’t deserve him. 

His love won’t last. 

Lead filled arms hold the metal spoon to your lips, a warmth in your mouth that has no taste. For you are not hungry. The beast inside spreading its ferocious wings and sucking any amount of joy from you. 

But he said he loved me. 

He doesn’t. Don’t fool yourself. 

Staring ahead you are trapped in your mind. A hostage to your demons. The sunshine of happiness is replaced with heavy thunderstorm clouds of acidic rain, eating away your insides like maggots on a carcass. 

Eddie is talking between mouthfuls of his breakfast but you don’t hear him. The words unable to make sense against your ears as you stir your spoon around and around the bowl. A hypnotizing motion. 

Unaware of the state you are in, Eddie is floating high on cloud nine. A pinky cheeked cherub shooting arrows of lust below him. He’s giddy and cheerful, a light of beckoning hope next to your brooding steel trapped mind. 

He’s too good for you. 

The voices shout louder in your ears and you fight tears away. 

Just another notch on his belt, silly Tooty. 

Run, before he does. 

“Sweetheart?” your breathing is erratic and complacent. Sweat is trickling down your hairline. Wet beads in the space behind your ears and forming on your upper lip.

Run. 

Choking down the bile of panic cradled in your throat, you croak a smile. “Sorry, what?” 

-

The rest of breakfast is void of noise besides the ominous clinking of spoons against bowls and the gulping slide of oatmeal down Eddie’s throat. Chewing your toast to humor him you still taste nothing, barely registering your teeth are grinding together against themselves until Eddie asks if you’re alright. 

Fine, you lie, easy on your tongue, the forced smile is harder, painful. Settling an unease in your bones that creaks and groans like a worn porch door batting against the frame in a windstorm. 

Pulling hard to untuck the sheet from the one corner of Eddie’s bed that didn’t manage to come undone during the passion of last night, you wrap it around you fully, and scoot down the length of his mattress. The walk of shame gown held tight in your grip. Doubling as a shield of comfort around you, a flannel sheet of armor. 

Not announcing where you are going in fear of breaking, you scamper from the room, quick feet on the carpet and shivering in the cool air on your shoulders. Eddie’s hot desperate eyes burrowing into your back as you lock the bathroom door. 

He’s everywhere in this house, and your mind is suffocating. Lungs punched of any oxygen as you struggle to stand using the knob as a crutch. 

What makes you think you’re deserving of his kindness?

The daunting demonic voice laughs mercilessly in your head, bouncing off the pinked brain matter and echoing lol against the hollow marble of your skull, scribbling along it in permanent marker. 

Unworthy 

Undeserving

Hot tears stream down your cheeks and you shed the cloak of flannel armor, reaching for the silver knob of the shower and turning it to the hottest temperature the small water heater will allow. 

The stream of the scalding water sears your back like steak in a skillet, you welcome the burn with open arms. 

Thinking of Eddie’s doting and how sweet he was to you made your stomach splinter. All he was doing was exactly what you had hoped for, wished for, stayed up long nights aching for. 

But it wasn’t simple. 

You were terrified. Scared shitless of his love for you. But you knew Eddie and you knew he loved big, and cared in ways that most people couldn't fathom. 

Hot water rolls down the front of your shoulders and flows over your softened nipples, mixed with salty tears. 

The tears only stop when there’s a soft knuckled bang on the door. 

His endearing voice is small against the closed door, “hey babe?” 

You don’t answer. Unable to free your mind from the double hell of feeling inadequate and petrifying anxiety of being loved by someone you can’t love back. 

But you do love him. 

You always have in one way or another.. even when you shouldn’t have. You did. 

But the overwhelming feeling of his affection is too much, you don’t know how to feel, or act. Not as if Chad ever made you feel loved. Somehow the feeling of being loved is almost the same crushing feeling of being choked out. 

Because you’re not good enough. 

You don’t deserve him. 

The bathroom door opens and Eddie’s calm voice breaks through the void. Makes its way through the silent sobs that are causing your body to shake violently. 

His shadow is blurred against the shower curtain. Coy hands peel the cream plastic and blue fabric away slightly, opening the threshold to the shower and the steam rolling out, thick in his vision. 

“Tooty?” 

Back to first names. 

Back to the basics. 

Eddie wasn’t an idiot. He knew something was wrong. And he had spent the last ten minutes walking back and forth along the carpet, wracking his brain. Pulling his hair in frustration when tears stung his eyes and collected like puddles in his lashes.  

Trying to figure out the solution to a problem he didn’t have the equation for. 

No one did. 

This was a fight within yourself, solving for x when Eddie barely passed basic algebra. Nobody could fix this.

Broken goods, sold at a discount and marked down. 

Trash. 

When you don’t answer he says your name a smidge louder. Reaching his fingers out to touch your shoulder and almost breaking on the spot when you coil away from him. 

His touch once so protective and undeniably reassuring in your blood now threatens to make you react with bared teeth and steel eyes. 

But you refrain, pushing yourself further away from him. Deeper into your sorrows of a life of despair, a valley of dread. 

Relentless, Eddie won’t give up easy. His voice is meek and breaking with each cold shoulder of avoidance you offer. 

You’re nothing. 

“Baby,” he pleads, a tear running down his cheek, collecting in the column of his throat. “Talk to me.” 

His cheeks return to normal color, his eyes don’t dance with twinkles, the corners of his mouth turn flat. He's beside himself. 

The voices deepens now, roaring loudly like a river. A familiar tone. One that has terrified you for almost a decade, Chad. 

You think someone could love you like me? Better than me? 

Take it, fucking whore. 

Yeah, cry for me. 

“No.” 

Eddie’s brows turn inward. Concern painting his face. “Tooty?” 

Who would want you? 

You’re nothing. 

A hand on your shoulder makes your spine twinge with icy cold resentment causing you to flinch unexpectedly, shivering away from him. A wounded animal, protecting yourself. 

“I said, no!” 

When you turn to face him you are met with wet eyes, and the saddest expression you’d ever had the displeasure of seeing. 

One that would bury itself in your mind and haunt you at night. More horrifying than a scary movie because it was real, right before your eyes. 

Eddie doesn’t give you time to think before he twists his mouth into a question, “what’s going on? What did I do?” 

This is not a conversation you want to have. You can’t. 

Plain and simple. 

“Leave me alone,” you beg, salt in the skinned wound. You turn the water off and shove past him, your warm wet skin sliding against his dry bare chest. 

Unlovable 

Undeserving Tooty. 

The terry fibers of your robe cocoon you in a hug. And you’re reminded of the memories this fabric holds. The first night Eddie had moved in, and him wearing it with pride. 

The night he defended you against the twins, when you were piss drink and he wrapped you up tightly to cover you up. 

He was a good man. 

And you were a bitch. 

An unlovable shrewd, forcing someone to open up and then cutting them off because you couldn’t handle the thought of someone loving you when you couldn’t love yourself. 

You deserved what Chad did to you. 

Eddie is talking a million miles an hour trying to explain himself as you leave him in the bathroom. His throat aches from swallowing back tears and his heart is breaking. 

Turning in a swift jerk of your head you face him when he begs you to look at him. 

“Please, goddamnit please just talk to me. Help me understand what I did wrong!” 

“There’s nothing to understand Eddie! We fucked! So what? No big deal.” It was the biggest lie you’d told yourself. It was a big deal. It meant everything to you, but you couldn’t do this. 

He’s stunned, mouth hung open and his pink bottom lip starts to quiver. The same lips that kissed you so delicately and made you cum so hard it was like the Fourth of July behind your eyelids. 

Not having any of it, his sadness turns to anger on the drop of a dime, his shaky lip flipped to a snarl, “Don’t you dare do this, don’t you dare turn this around as just some one night stand bullshit.” His eyes search your face for any tell on a sick joke. But he knows you better than that.  

He can’t contain the fueling rage inside of him and he almost shouts in your face. “I know what it meant to you!”

“Really?” you voice in a shaky tone, crossing your arms across your chest in a manner that suggests you couldn’t give a single fuck about his feelings, but barely below the surface you were screaming for help. “If you got all the answers then enlighten me.” 

His voice is softer, gentler. He timidly reaches out to hold your clothed shoulders, the tips of his fingertips grip them softly, thumbs rubbing small circles. Hoping his touch could bring you back to him, bring back the angel from his dreams and coax you out from this hellish nightmare he had fallen into. 

 “Don’t act like this baby, please.” 

Your head hangs in defeat and you’re ready to give up. A sigh escapes you and he lifts your chin with a ringed finger. He licks his lips and he says the three words you couldn’t hear. 

The three small words that confirmed the anxiety in your chest and made your heart crumble. And it kills you. 

It kills you to hear the words come from the man you’ve been yearning for.

It kills you to know you won’t ever be able to say them back to him. Even though you’re dying to.

And it kills you to know you don’t deserve to hear those words from him. 

His fingers feel like talons against your shoulders and you're caught in his grasp. A hawk swooping to catch a field mouse. You can practically feel the blood pouring from your skin by his nails through the robe. The sharpness squeezing your lungs and attacking your mind. 

And like a bullet from a gun, you fire back. With hateful words and a dead tone, fire lit behind your pupils and your caged self inside of them begging to be let out. Begging to be let free and loved by Eddie. Slapping his hands away from you, you pull away from him, your back hitting the wall with a thud, the same wall you leaned on last night when he kissed you for the first time. 

The word is final. And so full of venom it feels like poison on your lips. 

“Don’t.” 

Wounded like an animal he defends himself. His slapped hands are red and stinging as he hangs them limply at his side. He shakes his head and his lips glow with how hard he’s pressing them together. 

“Tell me I don’t mean anything to you,” he yells, hurt and unable to contain his building desperate pleas to win you back, “Go ahead! Use your words Tooty. Tell me last night meant nothing to you.”  

He’s a fiend for your poisoned drug and you are his dealer, giving him what he wants, directly to his vein of choice. The veil of hatred falling in your vision and coating your stone still features. A single tear welled into your eyes. Falling the exact time you tell him words you knew weren’t at all true. 

“It meant nothing to me.” 

He chuckles in a hurt tone trying desperately to hide his own tears, a sick smirk of dismay is displayed on his quivering lips. And he’s fighting like hell to stay standing on two feet. 

“So now what? Huh?” His voice breaks and he clears his throat, hands on his hips and looking towards the popcorn ceiling, desperately blinking tears back, and once they’re hiding again he nods his head forward, one last attempt to have you break with him. To admit you were lying to yourself. 

Crossing his arms he’s trying not to shake with fury and grief. Through gritted teeth he misters up enough courage to ask you something he doesn’t wanna hear the answer to.

“Tell me what you want since you’re so big and brave. Don’t be a coward now sweetheart, tell me what you want.” 

You almost vomit on the spot. But choke it down long enough to spill the last lie from your pretty lips.

The nail in the coffin. The big finale. 

“I want… you to leave.” 

—

JANUARY 

It took three hours and all the boys from Corroded Coffin to help Eddie move his things out. He took a few days off from work to get his affairs in order. Filling out the proper paperwork to change his address back to the light blue trailer in Forest Hills for the time being. 

You weren’t home when it happened. He had made sure of it. 

When you closed your eyes at night you could still hear slam of metal connecting to metal when he slammed his van door and the crunch of ice and snow beneath his van tires as he sped away. 

You didn’t cry anymore when Metallica played on the radio. And nobody but you knew that every glass you had owned had been shattered against the front door when you came home to his empty room. 

A reality that had your eyes swollen for days. 

It took you two weeks to see the envelope on the table. A scrawl of shitty handwriting with your name on it. 

Tucked inside the pristine white envelope was more than twenty $100 bills, fresh from the bank. And a small note: 

“If you need more let me know, 

take care of yourself - Eddie 

That night you wept. Clutching onto the handmade shirt Eddie had given you, the night before the concert. The only thing remnant of him living in the house. Not counting the newer jar of pickles in the fridge, like the last— the lid was missing. 

Hot tears slid out of your eyes faster than a tub draining. A call to Robin is broken with blubbering hysterics and honking noises of your nose being blown into a wadded Kleenex, and in ten minutes time—she manages to drop everything to come and look after you. 

Countless hours slip by of her rubbing your back and even crying along with you, she swore Eddie and you were meant to be. Her words were blankets of comfort on you as she tried her best not to bring him up. 

She had promised both Steve and Eddie to not tell you where he was staying, for your own good. 

And like the kind hearted friend she was, Robin stayed for a few days. Taking off work and cooking meals for you even though you refused to eat. 

On the third day of not eating and refusing to leave your bed, she put a call in to Steve. He was hands on his hips disappointed in you. Lecturing you about how your actions hurt people and how you couldn’t be a brat forever. He threatened to dial the Wheeler’s to have Karen step in. 

But you wouldn’t budge. 

When Nancy had shown up on a Wednesday morning, she immediately went to work. Making a schedule for you to follow, and taking absolutely no bullshit when you told her you were a grown woman and could deal with things on your own. 

When she blacked out Eddie’s name from the calendar, silent tears fell down your cheeks. 

Seeing his name brought you both solace and pain. A reminder that you had done this yourself. That he wasn’t coming back. And it was because of you.

You moved with the motions of each day.

Shower 

Brushing your teeth 

Eating breakfast 

Getting ready for work 

Going to work 

Eating lunch 

Working

Driving home 

Eating supper 

Brush teeth 

Bedtime 

You sat in silence when you weren’t at work. Finding little to no enjoyment in anything anymore. Avoiding everyone’s calls. Staring at the 4 walls in your bedroom like a prison cell. Eddie’s stupid jar of pickles tucked snuggly between your crossed legs, your supper for weeks now. 

The only thing on your mind was him. He stuck with you in everything you did. He was everywhere. You even started drinking orange juice from the jug just like he did.

His laugh. The small giggly one he’d had since boyhood and the deep belly laugh he’d generate when you would roll your eyes at him, all of his teeth showing. 

His smile seemed to stretch across the Milky Way. Wide and pearly, ear to ear. His cheeks prickled with deep dimples. Somehow getting cuter with age. 

The darkest eyes full of mischief and wonderment. You could get lost in the Wonka chocolate river pooling in his eyes. Changing with his emotions like a mood ring, they gave him away.  

—

Corroded Coffin hadn’t played a gig since A Merry Corroded Christmas. Hard to play a show when the lead singer couldn’t pull it together during practices or remember to show up to them. 

Steve had stayed up with Eddie the first few nights, talking him off the edge of a violent end he didn’t see a way out of. 

He wouldn’t allow himself to forget that night. The passion was cosmic. And he knew you felt it too. Whether or not you would admit you were lying to yourself didn’t interest him. 

He was used to rejection. 

Used to feeling like he was nothing. 

What was breaking him was the ghost of you in his arms. Your sleeping body haunted his dreams, made the demons escape from hell and flood his vision. 

When he woke and you weren’t there the pain surfaced tenfold. And no amount of whiskey or Rick’s finest trees would fix it. 

The cycle never ending

He cared about you more than he cared about himself. 

The day you asked him to leave was a blur. He woke up at Gareth’s apartment a day later, no recollection of how he had gotten there. 

Your words etched into his skin like a tattoo. 

I want you to leave.

FEBRUARY

Still Loving You by Scorpions is playing on repeat between Nothing Else Matters by Metallica again in the guest house behind the lavish empty pool of Steve Harrington’s new home on Cornwalis St. 

Thirty some odd days had passed and Eddie Munson was nowhere near the man he used to be. 

Where his skin was once smooth shaven was now replaced by a prickly sparse beard. His once sparkling chocolate eyes were now dull and almost ashen. Dark circles rim his eyes from lack of sleep and poor nutrition, a diet of Marlboros, whiskey and pretzels giving him enough energy to work and come back to the same space he had called home for a few months. 

Throwing himself into working long hours at Boom’s he slept very little at night. When he did close his eyes he’d be jarred awake by a nightmare, one he hasn’t had since he was a kid. And he’d lay awake for hours replaying the same day over and over again in his mind. 

Each time ending the same way.

Shreds of notebook papers cluttered the floor, each littered with blue and black ink, all different but entirely the same subject: you.

Poems, songs, haikus and even a poorly written sonnet he had attempted while drunk at 2 AM sitting in a lounge chair he had drug out from the pool shed to sit along the edge of the frozen pool cover. 

His hair hadn’t been brushed in weeks. Leighanne offered to help comb out the tangles and mats but the burden was too much for him to handle. He denied her kindness, brushing it off with mumbled ‘m fine ’s and don’t worry ‘bout me ’s.

But in reality the thought of another woman’s hands in his hair only made the tears fall harder. 

When Eddie first moved in, Steve and Robin were still in the apartment, and Eddie’s things were moved to a storage unit across town. 

When the lease was up at the end of January, Robin moved into Vicky’s apartment over Surfer Boy Pizza and Steve purchased a house, along with an expensive diamond ring he would be anticipating on giving to an eager Leighanne, holding off until her birthday for the right time to pop the question. 

The Harrington/Buckley apartment was then subleased to Eddie. A sublease that didn’t last more than a week before he was booted out by the landlord for destruction of property when he accidentally started a fire in the kitchen. 

He was only trying to replicate your lasagna. 

Steve graciously invited Eddie to move in. and Eddie kept to himself for the most part. And on nights when sad music was blaring from the small guest house, Steve knew better than to ask if his friend wanted to play cards or kick back with a few beers. 

-T-

January came and went and close to the end of February  Josie told you she was cutting everyone’s hours, the salon would no longer be open on the weekends. The envelope Eddie had left for you was thrown into your night stand and you refused to use any of it. 

No one in town was hiring for another hairdresser so you opted to driving fifteen miles out of town to find another job. 

The job you had gotten was bartending at a rundown shithole bar worse than the Hideout. But the tips were good and your boss was sweet. A pot belly old farmer who only played country classics and served warm beer and peanuts, the shells making curved mountains on the filthy splintered wood floor.

It was refreshing to get out of Hawkins, but most importantly, it was the best chance you had at not running into someone who looked like him. 

Your body started to ache at all times, tender in places that never hurt before. Exhaustion thick on your features 

Months had passed and you hadn’t seen your friends. Nancy would call every now and then and check in. Jonathan and her were seeing a couples therapist for intimacy issues. She said Mike was hinting at proposing soon to El. 

Eddie’s shadow lingered on your skin and you swore you could feel his breath in your ear. Whispering how he loved you.

Some days were better than others, but most days you would get so worked up you would vomit from the pain. Betrayal splayed in your guts. Your mind was working against you.

His teary eyes and hurt expression were all you saw when you closed your eyes. And every night you cried yourself to sleep, cocooned into a pile of too many blankets, dreaming that Eddie was holding you tight against his chest, never leaving…never letting you go. 

MARCH

Eddie worked more than twelve hours a day, acting as two full time mechanics with how hard he was throwing himself into projects. Boom, although grateful for Eddie’s help and go-getter attitude, worried about him. Especially when he noticed the other two knot head mechanics he couldn’t afford to fire, helping themselves into his office flipping through personnel files. 

“Sean told me he makes more money than me! I was just checking to see how much more you think he’s worth! 

Aaron chuckled when Boom tossed him out of the office by his collar. 

A secret motive snug on his Copenhagen smile. The Information he was seeking: found and a reward would be granted for his loyalty to a long time friend.

…

“… alright fine, I guess pineapple is pretty good on pizza.”

“Told ya, Harrington, ” licking his lips, Eddie reached into the cardboard box and grabs another slice, the melting cheese stretching for what seemed like miles,  “I know good pizza.” 

Steve rolls his eyes, taking it easy on his friend who finally is looking like his normal self again after two months of becoming almost unrecognizable. 

The sad music didn’t play anymore. And his fingers didn’t bleed from writing songs about you. 

He was accepting what happened. Still sad, a little depressed but moving forward with his life. 

The date was approaching, Steve knew it and so did Eddie, neither wanted to talk about what he was going to do yet but Steve held his tongue for far too long. 

“so.. that Metallica concert is coming up… you still g—”

Before Steve could finish muttering, Eddie was already finishing his sentence, chewing along with his explanation. His fingers twirl the rings on his other hand. A nervous fit settling in his stomach.

“—already sold ‘em. Gonna drop the money I got for them in her mailbox tonight.” 

Steve shifts uncomfortably in his chair, threading fingers through his coiffed hair. “So that’s it huh?” 

“So what’s it?” Eddie questioned, nonchalantly standing suddenly from the table with a scratch of the chair's legs  against the tiled floor. Throwing his paper plate and napkin away, he stops at the trash can. Doubling back he almost cracks under the scrutiny of Steve’s eyes. 

“Steve, she doesn’t wanna be with me, we’ve been over this. I fucked up, came on too strong.” 

“I’m sorry man,” Steve apologizes, a drag of his large hands down his face. “I really thought she felt the same way—,” he huffs out a breath, “fuck, we all did!”

A shake of Eddie’s curls silences Steve’s words, the whirring noise in his ears, “I’m fine man, really. I’m gonna keep doing what we said we would all those years ago.” 

Walking towards the front door and stomping louder than he should have, Eddie thrusts his arms into his leather jacket, the silk inside cozy along his faded cotton shirt. 

His keys are hanging on the little hook by the door, Steve’s decorator thinking of every detail, he lets the brass teeth dig into his palm. 

“Even if she hates me Steve,” one hand on the silver doorknob, rings clicking against it in his tight grip, he turns his head and looks into pitiful moss colored eyes, as he delivers the only truth he’s ever known, “I still love her.”

Slamming home the driver’s door to the van and turning his key into the ignition, Skid Row’s I Remember You plays gently through the speakers. Eddie hums along and pats his thumbs against the steering wheel. 

It was true he was doing better.

His hair was combed through after using copious amounts of the cheapest conditioner Melvald’s had to offer. And he didn’t need the whiskey anymore to make it through the day. 

He yearned to see your face. 

Even if it was a glare his way or a raised eyebrow at something stupid he had to say, he’d do just about anything to see it. 

Would you be smiling? 

Were you happy without him? 

He hoped you were doing well, and maybe would want to be friends again. 

Turning onto Cherry Lane is pure nostalgia. It had only been a few months but everything looked the same. He felt different and maybe expected everything else to change along with him. 

And there it was. Your house. 

The house he had lived in, learned life skills he should have learned years ago, and most importantly shared the deepest love he’d ever felt with someone in his life.  

The windows were dark, except for a small light in the kitchen, a candle he assumed. The smell of vanilla warmed his nose as he thought of the familiar scent you had kept burning.

The driveway held your car and another he didn’t recognize. By first glance he thought maybe it could be Nancy. But she had just brought her old station wagon into Boom’s last week for a tire rotation. 

The license plates on the fancy BMW were not from Hawkins, housing the wrong number for the county on the Indiana plates. 

His ears heated with jealousy. Throat closing tight trying to hide a choked sob. 

How could you have moved on from him so quickly? The thought of you hooking up with someone while he was practically a dead man walking made him weak in the knees.

A punch to the gut. He had never felt so low in all of his life.

He couldn’t help himself when he jumped out of the van. Foregoing slamming the door. Stomping on cold concrete with shaky legs all the way to the front door. He fumed as he blinked back tears. 

He was prepared to make an ass out of himself. He’d announce himself the same way he had when he opened the door the day he has moved in all those months ago. 

A loud boisterous, HONEY, I’M HOME 

With knuckles raised and his heart hammering in his chest like a bee trapped in a tin can, he was ready to knock. 

Ready to see your shocked face with some faceless guy probably with a better job and stupid suits when Eddie’s wild hair and goofy grin was on the other side of the door. 

But he is stopped short when a muffled shrill scream vibrates off the walls and finds his ears.

see you in volume 12

🐑 (sacrificial for readmore)

[treacheryinblue]

A Noah Sebastian x F!Reader One Shot

Word Count: 5.2k Masterlist

× Summary: Noah is Death, the ruler of the after life (or whatever you want to call it), though he is cursed to watch you come and go from his never ending existence time and time again.

× Warnings!: Eh-level smut (cut me some slack as I get back into it •‿• ), language, little bit of violence, tiny fluff, slight dom!noah, smut with plot aka this became more in depth than I meant for it to. Let me know if I missed anything!

× Story Song: God Complex by VIOLENT VIRA

There was an ache in your lungs with every labored breath you took, each one more strained than the last. You could hear his heavy steps trailing not far behind, and even though your calves were burning and you weren't sure how much longer you could carry on, you forced yourself to keep going. The pain didn't matter. All that did was the drive to stay alive. 

'Just a bit longer’, you would tell yourself. A vain hope that the man would tire out eventually and give up. All you had to do was outlast him. A simple task, right? 

Wrong. 

Small branches snapped beneath your bare feet as you did your very best to avoid low tree limbs and protruding roots from the ground. You dodged every obstacle, though you were only leading yourself deeper and deeper into the unknown woods in the process. 

You could hear his maniacal laughter over your shoulder, and you swore you could even feel his breath pass your skin, but there was no way he was that close without having snagged you yet. Finally, you took a sharp right turn and pressed your back up against the opposite side of a rather large tree. Tears streamed down your face, your hand covering your mouth to keep your sobs and heavy breathing muffled. 

“Come out, come out…” the man taunted, amusement evident in his sadistic tone. “We need to finish what we started or else it’s six feet under for both of us.” 

You forced your eyes closed, squeezing them as tight as possible. Maybe you would open them and be in your bed, all of this having been some sick and twisted nightmare. Unfortunately, that's not what lied ahead for you. 

Rough hands secured around your shoulders, forcing you down to the dirt without a hint of remorse. A scream erupted from you due to the sudden action, as well as the fear, obviously. 

“No! Please stop!” You pleaded while your fists tried their very best to bang against his chest, face, head - really anywhere you could reach. “Just let me go!” 

“Help! Someone help! Please!” 

The man’s laughter echoed through the woods and soon he had managed to pin your hands down on either side of your head. You squirmed and writhed beneath him, desperate to escape the heavy weight of his body being placed down on to you. 

“There's no one out here to save you, princess.” He somehow shifted your wrists into one of his hands, leaving the other free to dip down. “It's just the two of us.” 

There was a glint from the faint glow of moonlight shining off the blade he produced. The sight of it instantly silenced you, your eyes growing wide in terror. “Please...” you continued to beg through your tears, but it was as if the man couldn't hear a thing. Not that he cared about what you had to say. 

Then, without hesitation, he was forcing the knife at an angle up into your stomach. You gasped as the pain consumed you, too stunned to cry out again. Or maybe you were becoming too weak, due to the loss of blood and all. The man didn't stop there, though. He retracted the knife, shifted a bit, just before plunging it down into your chest. Another gasp escaped you, but this one didn't seem to hurt as bad as the first. Actually…you didn't feel much of anything anymore. 

Although there was a warmth consuming you, your assumption was that it was just the blood escaping from your body and pooling, but the deeper you progressed into the darkness, the more you began to believe that wasn't entirely true. 

× × ×

Suddenly, your eyes snapped open and you were staring up at a high, dark ceiling, and not the previous trees you had just been surrounded by. Your hands flew to your chest in search of the wound, then down to your stomach, but there was nothing. All that remained was the blood stains and the agonizing memory of your death. 

“Thirteen stab wounds…a bit of an overkill.” 

An unknown voice came from somewhere within the room, frightening you in a way that made you quickly sit up and snap your head around in search of the source. 

“Oh, ritual sacrifice? That's fun. Haven't seen that in a few decades. Gotta say, though, the thirteen is really bugging me. It's so cliche.” 

You could sense someone circling you just within the shadows of the room, making sure to stay deep enough to not be revealed quite yet. 

“Who…where am I?” The trembling of your voice was thick with fear, and even now a fresh set of tears began to well within your eyes. “Am I dead?” 

“You're a smart one, huh? It usually takes people way too long to figure that out.” 

Slowly, a figure emerged from the shadows directly in front of you, though the man now standing there kept his distance. He appeared to be roughly the same age as you, wearing all black with his hands clasped behind him. His face was void of emotion despite the amusement you swore you could hear in his previous statements, but there was a gleam in his dark eyes that you couldn't quite place. 

As much as you didn't want to admit it, he was rather beautiful. 

With a faint nod, you sniffed and finally pulled your gaze from his just so you could take a glance around the room. What you initially thought was a large empty space, was actually an oversized living area of sorts. You could just slightly make out the outline of furniture and art pieces, a new item making itself known with every shift of your eyes. When you looked back to the man, he was closer, his tall form crouching in front of you with a bend of his knees. 

“You seem sad,” he pointed out, his brow furrowing while examining you with only his eyes. 

“Well…I'm dead apparently, so…” 

“No,” he sternly responded almost before you could finish saying the words. “This is different.” 

Long fingers reached out, and at first you flinched away, until he sent an intense stare into your eyes that made you turn your head back to its natural position. A finger pressed beneath your chin to tilt your head up, the man fixating on every possible inch of your face. Then, without a word, he produced a devilish smile. 

“Very interesting.” 

With him taking a firm grasp of your chin, you sharply inhaled and dropped your knees to the side so you could lean in closer to him. He was standing up now, but bent at the waist so he towered above you, your eyes remaining level. “I think I'm going to keep you…at least for a bit.” 

“A bit?” You repeated, your curiosities bringing forth another smile from him. 

“Just a few centuries or so.”

The man’s hold of your face began to soften until his fingertips were just ever so lightly cradling your jaw. He could sense your confusion and hesitancy towards his words, thus leading to his new approach. 

“Let's get you cleaned up.”

× × ×

Moments later you were standing within a lavish bathroom after having walked with awe through…wherever you were. You weren't sure if it was a home, a conjured image, or what, but you were in too much shock still to question it. What you did notice during your walk, was that everything was very gothic. The architecture, the decor, the artwork that hung on the walls - all of it giving off a certain vibe of its own. 

What really tied it all together was the deep color scheme that made you feel as if you fit right in; with the dried blood on your clothes and what not. 

A large claw foot tub sat in the middle of the bathroom with steaming water running from the faucet. He looked at you, then motioned to the tub, making a clear request for you to get in. When you didn't, he arched his brow with a silent question. 

“You're still in here…” you explained, like that wasn't already obvious enough. 

When the realization of what you meant dawned on him, he produced a chuckle, slowly nodding. “Nothing I haven't seen before, I can guarantee.” 

“Since you've never seen me naked before, it actually is.” 

He heavily sighed, but then begrudgingly turned so his back was facing out, his front angled towards the corner. 

“Is this better?” 

You didn't respond. Instead, you stood still for another long moment before finally beginning to strip out of your soiled death clothes. Chills formed over your skin as the cool air encompassed you, this helping guide you faster to the awaiting bathtub so you could seek out the warmth again. 

Only when he heard the water settle, did he turn back around, slow steps approaching the tub. You glanced up to him, arms folded over your chest, legs crossed and pressed together to keep yourself hidden beneath the water. He didn't attempt to look, though, for his sights remained locked on your face. The way he was looking at you was rather odd, but there were many other questions that you wanted answered before the one that had to do with that. 

“So…do you have a name?” 

“Many,” he responded without hesitation. How was he always so quick? 

“Okay, well, what do you want me to call you out of these many names?” 

Taking in a deep breath, he slowly exhaled, using this brief moment to ponder your question. “You can call me Noah.” 

You snorted out a laugh only because the name given was far more normal than you were expecting. “Noah?” You repeated as yet another question for him. 

“It means ‘to rest',” he explained without even a hint of a smile. Something was telling you that he didn't find this taunt of yours to be entertaining in the least bit. 

“Okay, Noah, can I now know where I am?” 

“Do you always ask so many questions?” 

Cue your deep, prolonged sigh.

“I was used as a sacrifice, stabbed in the woods, I died, then I woke up here. Did I freak out even once? No. I think I'm deserving of some answers.” 

Noah didn't dare try to hide the smirk conjured by your feisty demeanor. To be honest, he was impressed, at the very least. He gave a single nod as he crossed the bathroom to retrieve a solid black washcloth from a neatly folded pile of items. Joining you again, he dropped the washcloth into the water, then sat on the edge of the tub down near your feet. 

“The afterlife, Hell, the underworld - whatever you want to call it, that's where this is, though it's really a realm of its own. An entirely different plane from Earth. That's the easiest way to explain it.” 

You had started cleaning your skin with the cloth and soap provided, soon turning the clear water red with your washed away blood. As he spoke, your eyes focused on his face, more specifically the way his jaw moved with every word. It was then that you noticed flashes of color popping up from over the black turtleneck he wore, permanent etchings that accompanied those you had glimpsed on his hands. 

Huh, you never thought of someone like him as being the tattoo type. You know, a being beyond most human comprehension. 

“So…what? You're the Devil?” 

This caused him to laugh, a deep chuckle erupting from his chest which told you that it was a genuine response. 

“Sure, if that's who you need to think of me as. Though I prefer to see myself as being more complex than a red man with a pitchfork and horns surrounded by flames…and much more handsome.” 

Your eyes traveled from his neck and back to his face before settling on the sharp angle of his nose, then his lips. Of course the man who was basically the Devil would be handsome…you should've known that to be true already. The wash cloth still rubbing along your skin slowed at your chest, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as you admired him. 

Why weren't you scared? Any logical person would've been, but you were more concerned with viewing more of that enticing tattoo that was teasing you. What was it? How far down did it go? Did he have more? Although the water was hot that you were submerged in, you somehow felt a chill radiate down your spine. When you finally looked back up, Noah was watching you, that previous gleam returning to his eyes. 

“You didn't hear a word I said, did you?” He scolded, before then lifting himself from the edge of the bathtub again. 

You opened your mouth to speak, though nothing sounded like it would be the right answer. Instead of replying, you just closed your mouth and held his gaze. 

“What if I had revealed a secret of the universe to you? All while you were too busy thinking of me naked?” 

“What? I wasn't thinking about that!” You scoffed in defense. 

Noah had shrugged off his jacket as you struggled to find your voice, the long sleeve shirt he wore also being tossed aside next until he was fully bare from the hips up. He didn't linger in front of you for too long; his steps around to the back of the tub only allowing you a quick moment to study the tattoos that were inked across the entirety of his torso and arms. 

“Do you know how I know you were thinking that? Aside from the blush that's risen to your cheeks?” 

You sharply inhaled as you felt his hands on your shoulders, your heartbeat immediately picking up in pace. Again - any logical person would be terrified. 

“Because you told me you were…last time.” 

The tattooed hands on your shoulders tightened their grip, his thumbs rubbing soothing yet firm circles into the base of your neck. You knew he was trying to keep you relaxed as he revealed something that sounded kind of important, but your eyes were closed and you were already lost in the sensations. 

“Last time?” You murmured softly as the task of processing his words took longer than they typically would. 

Noah’s breath fanned across the side of your neck and his hands began a slow journey down to your chest, pausing just before getting to the hardened peaks that were now your nipples. You could feel him smirk against your skin, then he was palming your breasts, pulling forth the faintest of moans from under your breath. 

“Would you believe me if I told you that this is the ninth time we've encountered each other? Thousands and thousands of years, and your face is the only one I've seen more than once.” 

He released the hold he had on your chest, now brushing your hair away from your neck so he could plant need-filled kisses along the elegant arch. The loss of contact caused you to pout, your eyes opening to see that a mirror had appeared on the wall opposite of the tub. It gave you a clear view of him behind you, and the fire burning within his eyes that was becoming more and more familiar. 

“Don't worry, you'll remember. It never takes too long.” 

The words you wanted to say still refused to be voiced, all because Noah was distracting you with his mouth and hands. The latter snaked around to the front of your throat, his fingers securing until he was able to force your head to angle up towards him. His mouth then claimed yours in a heated kiss that clouded all of your senses, refusing to let you touch, taste, or feel anything that wasn't him.

Your upper body twisted to the best of its abilities until you could tangle your fingers into his hair. The kiss was deepened, his tongue pushing past your lips first to begin the fight for dominance over your mouth. There was something familiar about all of this, almost like you knew exactly what to do to receive certain reactions from him. You knew that pulling his hair would make him hiss and rut against you - had you been in the correct position - and something as simple as biting his lip would have him turning you over and pulling you back against him in a matter of seconds.  

But how did you know that? That was the question now plaguing your mind. 

It didn't linger for long, though. It was impossible to let it when Noah’s hand mimicked your own, a handful of your hair now in his grasp so he could force your head back. You whimpered at the painful sensation that vibrated straight down to your core. His opposite hand again began a downwards trek, dropping into the water so he could force your thighs apart. 

“Look at me,” he demanded, his breathing just as labored as your own because of all the built up frustrations you both shared. “Fuck, I've missed those eyes.”

Your knees pressed into either side of the bathtub walls to allow him all the space he would need between your thighs. Skilled fingers traced slowly along the smooth folds that were almost begging for him to give you more. Your breath hitched in your throat and the need you felt for him showed dark within your eyes that he was still locked in on. Dipping in just a bit, his fingertips met with your own natural wetness - which he could easily feel despite being surrounded by water. 

“Maybe your mind doesn't yet remember, but your body does.” Noah smirked, then plunged the entire length of his middle finger into your cunt, just to prove how wet you already were for him. 

Your body tensed and your hips shot forward, rocking up against his hand with a desperate need. He wasted no time with finding that very specific spot inside of you, immediately placing a firm pressure against it to accompany his stroking motion. Your eyes fluttered closed and your lips parted once your jaw fell slack in response to how one mere finger could make you feel. 

“Noah…” you whimpered as your slick walls tightened around him, drawing him in deeper. 

“That's it…you can do it.” He again pulled your hair to bare your neck to him, his teeth sinking into your sensitive flesh before soothing the area with a kiss. A second finger soon joined the first inside of you, and you knew it wouldn't be long before you were a goner. 

There was just something about being fingered in a bathtub stained with your own blood that really did it for you. 

Your breathing began to increase, your chest rising and falling at a rapid pace that seemed to match the same one Noah kept inside of you. He was still stroking that special spot with a maddening pressure, the ball of his hand rubbing against your sensitive clit, and the mixture of the two sensations had you teetering right on the edge. 

“Just give me one and then I'll allow you what I know you truly want.” His words were whispered at your ear as he pushed his long fingers deeper into your cunt, working you over in ways that only he knew how to. 

You knew what he meant, though, and oh, how badly did you want what he had in store for you next. You could only imagine how hard he was right then, his cock straining against the black pants he wore, begging for some sort of relief. Noah was patient, though. Much more patient than you were. After all, he spent over two hundred years waiting for you to appear again. He could wait another few minutes. 

Noah again slipped his left hand down to your chest where he began to pinch and pull at your nipples, the added stimulation being exactly what you needed. With his fingers making that damned 'come hither’ motion inside of you, your thighs suddenly clamped down around his hand from the intensity of the orgasm that rushed through your body. 

“Oh…Noah! Right there, yes!” You cried out as your pussy fluttered wildly around his fingers, that of which he had yet to cease the motions of. No, he was going to draw it out for as long as he could, really let you ride the high of your first time together again. 

His head turned to press his lips to the nape of your neck, the breaths he let out almost as heavy as your own. “You're so beautiful when you cum for me,” he exclaimed. “I could watch it again and again, which I plan to do.” 

The come down from your orgasm had left your head spinning and foggy. You barely even noticed when you were no longer encased in the water of the bathtub, your body now being tossed upon the most comfortable bed you had ever felt. Opening your eyes, you gazed up at Noah through your post-orgasm haze, admiring him with no shame as he began to unfasten his belt. 

“It's all starting to come back to you, isn't it?” 

The clanking metal sound of his belt sent chills through you, and you had the faintest memory of him using that belt of his for other things that made you scream in pleasure. Noah smirked, well aware of what you were thinking of, but he slowly shook his head. “Next time,” he promised. 

He then leaned forward and grabbed you beneath your knees, forcing your body a little closer before managing to turn you over onto your stomach in a swift motion. You were still very much drunk on all that he was, all that this was, so you allowed him to maneuver you however he pleased. 

Strong hands slowly ran up the sides of your thighs and then gripped tight to your hips. He pulled them up and back, your ass now angled upwards as your upper body remained down on the bed. You smiled, your fingers grasping onto the soft sheets that he had laid you upon. 

“Fuck…” you heard him hiss, the sight of you on display for him causing his cock to twitch. His hands were then on you again, this time massaging into the flesh of your ass cheeks, fingertips occasionally grazing against the wetness between your thighs. You knew he was doing it on purpose just to tease you. 

You huffed in frustration, your body rocking back just a bit as a silent demand for him to give you what you wanted. He chuckled lowly to himself, his hands retreating from your overeager body. 

There was a quick moment where you tried to lift your head to see back at him, but he immediately tutted in disapproval. “Stay down,” he demanded in a tone that was both soft and firm. 

You whined in protest as you dropped your head back down to the bed. Each passing second had you growing more and more impatient, like you were going to literally explode if Noah didn't give into your desires. You wanted him inside of you. You needed to feel the burning stretch as he claimed your body. 

The bed then dipped with his added weight and you finally felt the warmth of his cock gliding between your folds. You heard him take a sharp breath as one hand held your hip, the other guiding himself around all of your sensitive areas. A shudder moved through you when the head grazed along your clit, the sensation immediately causing your eyes to close and your fingers to tighten on the sheets in preparation. 

“You feel like Heaven,” he murmured, the tip of his cock now pressing against your entrance. “So much better than I could ever remember.” 

Finally, he was easing himself inside of you, pushing through your tight walls until his hips pressed flush against your ass. His fingers flexed along your hips and you knew he was trying to control himself - a task that was much easier said than done. The feeling of being so full already had your toes curling and your breath exiting in pants. It was an addictive pleasure, the way your body reacted to him. How your cunt stretched to its limits around his thick cock, a slight pain mixing with your ecstasy, though that only made it so much better. 

Noah’s hips pulled back until only the tip remained nestled inside, just to force every inch back within your depths with a quick thrust forward. He groaned your name, his noises mixing with your own coming from beneath him. He repeated this a couple of times as if he was trying to commit every inch of your cunt to his memory, and the way it felt to have you wrapped so tight around him again. 

Tattooed fingers pushed and pulled your body along his length, his pace quickening. He would thrust forward a bit harder each time he made it as deep as possible, just to give you that extra little  punctuation that he knew had you seeing stars. 

“Fuckfuckfuck!” Your moans echoed through the room, joining the likes of your bodies colliding and his satisfied groans. “Oh my god, Noah. Don't stop…I'm getting so close.” 

There was a sudden shift in his thrusts, each one becoming a bit more rough than the last. His hand traveled down the expanse of your back until he could find your hair within his grasp. Noah forced your head back and then your upper body as well, the rhythmic motions of his hips pausing with him deep inside of you. You smirked despite his now serious demeanor, because you could feel his cock twitch and throb inside of you. If only you could touch your clit, you would've came just from that alone. Something told you that Noah wouldn't allow it, though. Not unless he said for you to. 

“Believe me, God isn't here.” He sternly explained through his heavy breaths before he was pushing your body back down to the bed. His fingers locked around your wrists and trapped them against the mattress, leaving you helpless to his maddening desires. “He has no part in all the sinful things I want to do to you.” 

The pressure of his body weighing down on your own, mixed with the increasingly rough motion of his hips, had your moans erupting one after the other in quick succession. You didn't know how much longer you could keep your orgasm at bay, that task always proving to be difficult when Noah fell victim to his dominant side. It was clear that you had zero qualms with this based off your body’s reaction. 

“Please…” you whimpered, the beg reminiscent of your last moments as a living being. It was so funny to you how things aligned like that. 

Noah lowered himself more until his chest was touching your back, his hips slowing as well. Each thrust remained hard, though he took his time stroking your inner most walls. He wanted you to be able to feel every pulse of his cock, just so you knew the things only you did to him. 

“What was that?” He kissed along the side of your face until his lips were at your ear, this being where he murmured the taunt. “Was there something that you wanted? Go on, tell me.” 

You nodded, your lips folding in as you attempted an act of composure - one you both saw through. There was no such thing when it came to Noah 

“I need to cum, Noah, please!” You impatiently exclaimed while trying to press back into him with every thrust forward he made. The strength behind his hips nearly prevented you from doing so, but you both also knew that deep down he couldn't deny you a single thing you wanted. 

Noah smirked, his broad shoulders lifting away until he was sitting up on his knees behind you again. He was squeezing your hips so tight that you assumed bruises would be there tomorrow - can the undead bruise? That was one thing you didn't remember, but the answer would surely come soon enough. 

A lithe inked hand snaked around until his fingertips were on your swollen clit. Your body jolted from the sudden electrifying sensation that caused you to tense. No sounds came from you now, since the intensity had your breath catching and halting in your chest. Those skilled fingers of his rubbed your clit in perfect time with his thrusts, driving you right to the edge. Occasionally he would pinch at the overly sensitive nerves, only just hard enough to make your thighs tremble and eyes roll back. 

“Then cum.”

Those two words were uttered as a demand; he allowed you exactly what you wanted while making sure you remembered who was in control. How could you ever forget? 

Waves of pleasure began to crash within every inch of your tense body. Your cunt collapsed around his cock and soon you were erupting, each nerve in your being firing off all at once. It was the most amazing thing you had ever felt, being able to cum around him as he also gave into his own climax. 

Noah's hips jerked out of rhythm before stilling inside of you, thick ropes of his cum coating the aching walls of your pussy which he had just thoroughly claimed. Not that there was ever any question of its ownership. All of the moans and other sounds of strained delight that left him was your favorite song - nothing but music to your ears that you were eager to press 'play’ on again and again. 

As he came down from his high, the dominant side slowly began to drift away, though only for the time being. It could easily be back with a snap of your fingers. His body enclosed around yours again since he knew you enjoyed the weight of him, greedy lips pressing light kisses along your shoulders and the back of your neck. 

“Say it.”

You smiled through the heavy breaths that remained, which were accompanied by slight twitches in your hips from the after effects of your Earth shattering orgasm. 

“Say what?” The tone you used gave away that you knew exactly what he wanted from you. 

“Don't make me beg.” 

“Hmm…” you softly hummed in feign thought, briefly getting lost in the way his fingertips grazed your sides. “Did I say it last time?” 

The answer was something you were already aware of: you did. You just couldn't pass up the chance to tease and mock him. 

“You say it every time.”

Shifting beneath him, your upper body turned enough so that you were able to look up into his dark eyes. There were still a lot of things that you couldn't yet recall, but old memories were making themselves known with each second that passed. Soon, you would know everything, just as he did. 

“I love you,” you murmured in a near whisper. That same gleam you had witnessed in his eyes several times that day returned, making you begin to believe that he hadn't possessed it for the entire duration you were separated from him this time. 

“Maybe the ninth death will be the charm.” 

× × ×

[crazybiscuit]

Give 'em Pumpkin to Talk About

Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader (ft. Jon and Conner Kent) Summary: Ma Kent sent Clark home with way too much pumpkin to carve... Warnings: No warning, just fluff and family bonding :) Word Count: 1459 Credits: @strangergraphics thank you for the dividers! A/N: This is actually my first official fic, so I hope you all enjoy it. There will likely be mistakes but I will revise all of the fics I'll be publishing this month at a later date.

“Clark, these pumpkins are ridiculously massive,” you remark dryly, staring at the three large pumpkins taking up the entirety of your dining table.

Clark lets out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck, “Ma insisted that I take them with me for the kids…”

“Did you fly them here? Never mind, don’t answer that, I already know the answer…,” obviously he's Superman so this would’ve been easy for him, but it's difficult to wrap your mind around how strong your husband is at times.

He clears his throat, sensing that you don't seem too upset, “Do you think the boys will like them?”

You're still a little disturbed to see your kitchen overtaken by pumpkins but you can’t help but let out a small laugh, finally setting down your purse on a chair by the kitchen island, “No doubt Jon will love them, that's for sure. Not sure about Conner..."

"I didn't know your parents grew pumpkins... Are these naturally grown?” you ask, approaching the table to touch one of the toddler sized pumpkins curiously.

Clark is amused by the question and nods, walking up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “They don't, a friend gave them to them but they are in fact naturally grown."

He stays quiet for a second before continuing, "You know these pumpkins are actually fairly small compared to our record holders.”

You try to hide your shock as you look back at him with a small smile, "I'm not sure if I should be horrified or impressed, Smallville."

He chuckles, kissing the top of your head before letting go of you, “I'll have to show you the contest one of these days."

He begins to grab his coat and car keys as he glances at the time, "I’m going to pick up the boys, Conner's going to be landing soon and Jon probably wants to greet him at the airport."

You nod, kissing him quickly, careful not to hit his glasses, "Alright, I'll get started with dinner in the meantime. Be quick!"

About 40 minutes later, you recognize the familiar sound of a small child running down the hall and you set down your knife to wipe your hands. You then hear the usual sound of Clark fumbling with his keys and you hold back an amused smile, walking towards the door. Before he even gets the chance to find his house key, you unlock the door and open it.

Clark jumps slightly, feigning shock to maintain his persona, and lets out a slight laugh, “Oh! H-hi, Darling.”

"Hi, Love," you greet him again, glancing at the two boys with him, "You should consider carrying less keys when you go out."

You give the two young boys a smile as your son runs up to you, hugging your waist, "And hello, boys. How was school?"

Conner gives a wave, removing his sunglasses, and drops his backpack by the door, “Alright. I got out early, so not too eventful.”

Clark walks past you and Jon, carrying Conner's suitcase to the guest room. You give Conner an apologetic smile, running your hand through Jon's dark hair, "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Conner. We figured buying you a flight would be less suspicious than having you show up here using your abilities-"

Conner smiles, shrugging, "It's fine. I get it, I'm just glad I can be here for the weekend."

You turn your attention back to the nine year old next to you, "How were your classes, Jon?"

The boy brightens up, “We had a quiz today and I got 100 on it! And Ms. Sally also let us pair up for science class!”

Jon keeps talking for a while longer and Clark ruffles his hair when he finishes, "That's great, kid. Conner, I set up your bed and put your bags in there."

"Alright, if you boys are ready, I almost finished dinner and then Clark has a surprise for you two."

Once you all finish eating dinner (on the kitchen island because of your pumpkin problem), Clark finally shows the boys the pumpkins and the carving has begun.

"How many pumpkin pies do you think we could make with each one of these?" you ask jokingly as you scoop out the filling of Jon's pumpkin, glancing at Clark and Conner, who are basically done hollowing out their pumpkins.

Conner glances up from his work, Jon practically hanging off of him as he works on his Jack-o'-lantern, as he responds with a small smirk, "Too much."

"There's no such thing as too much!" Jon exclaims, stepping away from Conner, letting the teen breathe, "When can I start cutting?"

You smile slightly, "Soon, I still need to hollow out your pumpkin."

The nine year old nods, surprisingly patient. Clark notices your struggling to keep up with his and Conner's super speed and he carefully takes your hand, "I'll finish that up. You start tracing the face for our Jack-o'-lantern."

You hesitate slightly, not wanting him to work for you, "No, it's al-"

Your husband cuts you off with his sweet smile, "I insist. Anyways, I trust your artistic skills over mine any day."

With that, you resign and begin tracing a fun design on your shared pumpkin, "Boys, do you think I should make a cat or a witch?"

The two kids look up from their tasks, sharing a glance. Conner speaks up, looking back down at the sketch he's helping Jon with, "Why not both?"

You thought about it for a second before nodding, "That's probably a good idea actually. There's a lot of blank space to use."

The next few minutes are filled with small talk as everyone starts focusing on transferring their sketches onto the large pumpkins. Clark helps Jon to the best of his ability, struggling a little to recreate the design Conner helped Jon with. Luckily for the Superman, his son didn't seem upset at all with his mediocre art skills.

The peaceful atmosphere, however, has given you the urge to mess with your poor husband, seeing he is likely too focused on his artwork to notice your scheming.

You glance at the large bowl of pulp and seeds sitting on the counter next to you and you grab a handful, motioning to the boys to be quiet. Conner's eyes widen slightly, catching on to your intentions and he pauses his sketching for a few seconds. Jon, on the other hand, is less discreet, giggling at the prospect of his father getting pranked.

Unfortunately, this giggling caught Clark's attention, "What's wr-"

You drop the pulp on his head, causing him to flinch for a few seconds as he processes what just happened. A few seconds later, he begins to laugh and turns to face you, "Alright, you asked for it!"

This marked the beginning of a food fight in your pristine kitchen, as Clark throws pulp back at you. You let out a small yelp, feeling the cold and slimy filling hit your skin. Conner grins and teams up with Jon, throwing their own handfuls of pumpkin pulp at Clark and you. 

You feign a gasp of offense as the boys betray you, "How could you? After I offered you both cookies!"

Your cries of playful outrage fall on deaf ears, "Sorry, mom. This is war!"

The food fight ended surprisingly soon as you all ran out of ammo, the seeds and pulp covering nearly every inch of the dining room. Each one of you is also covered in an absurd amount of pumpkin.

"White flags?" everyone nods, still laughing.

"I'll quickly clean this up, you three start carving so we can put these outside tonight." 

You glance at Clark, a little surprised, "You sure?"

"I've got it, It'll be faster like that anyways," he says, leaning down to kiss you smiling. You happily kiss him back and allow to pull away to clean.

It takes him barely ten minutes to clean but by that time, Conner has finished his detailed pumpkin and you are about halfway done guiding Jon through his pumpkin carving journey. 

"Thank you so much, Love," you say, smiling as he begins carving your design.

"It's really no big deal," Clark responds.

By the time you are all finished, you have three drastically different pumpkins: Conner's being a detailed design of his favorite horror villain, you had decided to go with a more simple design of a witch with her cat, and Jon had a cute (though a little sloppy) design of Superman and Superboy on his pumpkin.

“Are they going to fit on the balcony you think?” you ask, both staring at the carved pumpkins.

“We’ll make it work,” Clark responds, kissing your cheek as the boys take pictures with their pumpkins.

[ranaissingle]

Whispers and Melodies (Pt. 2)

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: She has heard a deep melodic voice speaking to her from a faraway place for decades. Anything from snippets of a longer conversation to roars that shook the very earth she walked on.

Rating: T (For now)

Word Count:

A/N: This story is shaping up to be over 10 chapters so I am trying to queue up some chapters to post with some kind of regularity lol. I hope you enjoy this one! Also, I have created a tag list so comment below if you would like to be tagged in upcoming parts!

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Past (Sometime before Amaranths's Rule UTM)

Rhysand sat at his office in Velaris pouring over mountains of paperwork that he had allowed to pile up right before starfall. He’d spent the better part of 3 days working through the aftermath of the holiday, and he sat now at his desk, he wished he had some type of escape or distraction from the mountain of work that always seemed to follow him. 

A melodic breeze seemed to enter from the window as the trees and winds intermingled before filtering their way through the large windows. The breeze carried notes that came in quick succession and seemed to echo off of each other. The soft feminine voice almost caressed Rhysand's cheek and winded itself around him in a blanket of warmth. He hadn't realized how cold he was until that very moment. His back and arms slowly untensed themselves as he relaxed further into his chaise and as soon as Rhysand felt like he could finally go to sleep, the voice seemed to fade back out the window and only left Rhysand craving more. 

Page break and POV switch (Same time period)

Y/N sat out enjoying the weather amid the hot summer. She had laid out various fruits, bread, and spreads to snack on while she read and hummed away her evening basking in the sun. The wind carried a gentle breeze and various little creatures scurried their way across the grove. All at once, it seemed like the ambient noise around her had become muffled. As if someone had placed a pillow over her ears. Slowly, a voice from the outside seemed to filter through whatever was muffling her hearing. It was laughter. Booming laughter made some deep unknown emotion bubble up inside her. Something that made her heart ache most deliciously. A small smile crept upon her face as she looked out into the distance the first to find where the sound had been emitting from. Nothing but trees and willowing branches blew in the wind, not a soul in sight. The laughter slowly fizzled out as if the sound was creeping back into the forest from whence it came. The retreat left her feeling cold as if a winter breeze had made its way to her from the winter court. 

Rhysand slowly pulled open the door to the room he had been occupying and stepped outside the threshold of the door. As the hinges creaked, the woman’s chopping ceased as she placed her knife on the cutting board before wiping her hands on her apron and turning around. Rhysand strengthened his stance even as the muscles of his thighs burned with the strain. 

“Who are you and how did I get here.” Rhysand’s voice came out firmer than he had thought himself capable of. The woman narrowed her eyes at him and cocked her head to the side.  

“I found you passed out on the beach. You are quite lucky the tides did not pull you into the depths before.” 

Her lips quirked up at the idea as if she was thinking about that very outcome. Rhysand squared his shoulders and steeled himself further. He couldn't be sure that this woman did not have evil intentions. If there was anything he had learned in his 500 years of life, it was that he should never underestimate an opponent just because they were a female. 

“Why would you help me then? Is there something you want in return?” 

Rhysand was grateful enough for the help that she had provided that he was willing to give her something in return. The female rested all of her weight on one leg as she turned her eyes up to the roof and began to contemplate what she would want. She was likely going to ask for a pile of gold or a new cottage of some sort. She looked like she had run through a million possible answers to his question when all at once her eyes widened and her posture stiffened as she blurted out; 

“Waterdrake scales! Could you get me water Waterdrake scales? A lot of them?” 

POV Switch To Y/N

Why did his voice sound so familiar? She swore she’d heard it before but couldn't

Y/n’s hand tightened on the side of the counter that she had been gripping with all of the mother’s strength. What ingredient could possibly stabilize the potion she was working on? She had tried every single combination of Honey possible but it always reduced the potency by some amount. She needed it to be as potent as possible in order to ensure its effectiveness. Firedrake scales were known to increase the shelf life of a potion, but that wasn’t exactly what she needed. She needed something to make sure that the reaction between the crawfish shell and fennel root did not take place and that their effects were enacted on the patient independently of their effects on one another. Could dragon bone work? No, that would just react with the fennel root and make the whole mixture useless. But waterdrake scales? Yes, those could work; it would keep the potion cool enough to prevent reaction while also having a cooling effect on the body when administered which would help with the fevers that often accompany blood loss. Yes, this was perfect! Before she could get any sort of reign on her excitement. 

Y/n blurted out, “Water drake scales! Could you get me waterdrake scales? A lot of them?”

POV Switch to Rhysand 

This female had gone insane. Water Drake scales were the rarest type of scales. Asking for them was equivalent to asking for something more valuable than the cauldron itself. Never mind that he was sure Velaris did indeed have Warwe drake scales, what could this female possibly need water Drake scales for? Rhysand lets his lips quirk up on one side as he takes in the female. 

“What would a spritely female like you need with water drake scales and how are you so sure that I could be the one to provide them for you?” Rhysnad crossed his arms over his chest and stared her down. 

Y/n rolled her eyes while she looked him up and down. “You carry yourself in a manner that befits whatever rank you possess.” She takes a deep breath before continuing,”I have seen a great many males like you, they traipse around as if they own the land they walk on, they trample over the plants and never leave a place the same as when they found it. Your kind is the reason our world will never have any semblance of peace for more than the time it takes to heave a breath.” 

“Oh? You have come to this conclusion after knowing me for all of 10 minutes have you?” 

“Not quite I think. You seem to be less…? Just less I suppose. I can’t exactly put my finger on it but you do not suck the air out of a room the way your brethren tend to. I’ve come to conclusions about your brethren, not necessarily you, it seems.” 

Although Rhysand still did not look pleased, he had already decided to acquiesce to her demands as soon as she had spoken it. He was grateful, after all, for her help in his recovery.  But, he was not going to fetch the scales by himself. If she wanted to get her hands on those scales she would have to contribute to the journey. 

“Alright, if you want the scales you shall have them. However, I am not going on this journey for the impossible by myself. I know where to find them so we can get started whenever you are ready. 

She smiles slightly before speaking. “I think that our journey might have to be held off a couple of days at least.”

Rhysand took the bait. “What, not up for the challenge?”

“No, I’m up for the challenge. You, however, are not.” The smirk on her face was undeniable and Rhysand felt a laugh make its way up his throat. The female was right he was not up to any kind of journey where he would be forced to sleep on the cold hard earth and eat whatever gruel he could salvage. All at once he felt the exhaustion flood him as his body realized he would not be traveling anytime soon. 

She seemed to notice this and anticipated Rhysand’s legs giving out under him before he realized he was getting closer and closer to the polished wood of the floor. She skillfully wrapped her arms around his torso and slowly lowered him to the ground. 

“We need to get you to bed. I already made breakfast so I’ll bring some to you as soon as you’re tucked in. 

Rhysand chuckled, “I’m not a child, gods, you’re more demanding than my brothers.” She cocked her hips to the side before placing her hands on her hips as she stared him down. Rhysands smile never left his face as he raised his palms in defeat and raised himself to his knees before turning on his heel and entering the room he had previously come out of. As the door clicked shut behind him, Rhysand stood in the middle of the cozy room. He hadn’t smiled in 50 years. The muscles felt strangely tight from lack of use. He knew he had to get back to Velaris as soon as possible; his family was probably wondering where he was. But, despite his best efforts he couldn't bring himself to winnow home. It was quite peaceful in this little cottage by the sea. Rhysand eventually sat on the bed and leaned back on his arms as he stared out of the large window across from the bed. It seems Amaranths's reign managed to evade this section of the fae kingdoms. 

Y/N rapped on the door 3 times before opening the door and walking inside. Rhysand smelt a fragrant aroma of ripened fruits and something else warm and minty. She walked up to the small wooden table next to the bed and placed a tray on it. 

“I’ve made you a fruit salad, bread and herbs, and tea. I would make you something more hearty but, considering how malnourished you were upon your arrival, I feel it’s best to start you off on some simpler foods.” Rhysand looked up at her, “Thank you for the meal.” She tilted her head to the side slightly and smiled. “Could I check your temperature?” She raised her hand up towards his forehead but kept her hand from actually touching him. He took the time to look up at her from where he sat on the bed. He nodded his head and waited as she brought the back of her hand to his forehead and placed her hand on her forehead as well. 

“You’re temperature is slightly above what is normal..” The frown on her face deepened as the gears in her mind began formulating some combination of herbs and elixirs to lower the fever. Rhysand kept his gaze on her as she started counting on one hand and mumbling soft indescribable words. Her eyes flicked down to his and she said,“ I’ll have to give you some ginger and chamomile to help lower your fever. ” Her touch felt cool on his warm forehead when he swore he felt his temperature lower a fraction. She then slowly brought her hands down to his neck before looking at him to ask for permission once more. Again, he slowly nodded his head and she pressed one of her delicate fingers against his skin. She removed her finger quickly and kept her gaze on that section of her neck. “It appears as if you are also dehydrated.” 

Her voice trailed off as she continued moving his head slightly. Curiosity overwhelmed him so Rhysand asked, “ You could have done all these tests while I was asleep, could you not?”. She smiled slightly at him as she removed her hands from his cheek and neck and placed them back in her lap. “I don’t think you would have wanted that.” Her gaze settled on him in a way that made shivers run up his already sore spine. Rhysand answered with his own poor excuse of a smirk.

“Eat up, I will start preparing the provisions for our journey and bring you some more water”. She turned to the door and softly clicked it shut behind her. 

Y/N did not expect that being so close to the man would have made her heart beat so fast. The hair on her arms stood up as she attempted to take deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She needed to get started on the preparation as well as figure out the dilemma of how she was going to replicate the properties of water drake scales without having to put them in every single batch of her remedy.  

Rhysand relaxed back into the bed cradling him and felt the tension in his muscles trickle out and gather underneath him in a pool of warmth. They wouldn't be going on a journey, he was sure Majda had some water drake scales stocked up and he planned to winnow them into Velaris as soon as he was better. But she didn't need to know that yet. He quite liked the tranquility of the little cottage on the sea and intended to stay here as long as she would permit him to. Funnily enough, he didn't care to go back home.

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A/N: this had too many POV switches for my taste so I won't be doing that again lol I know it's been a while since I posted but I am trying to get back into the groove of things haha

TAGLIST: @nebarious

[thefreakandthehair]

my fiance walked into the kitchen last night to me in a rolling stones tee shirt and sweatpants, glass of wine in hand, bopping around to linkin park while cooking for easter. and it gave me a cute lil idea! enjoy!

It's a strange thing, holidays with a large family.

Eddie and Wayne don't really do Easter, it having been just the two of them for so many years. Sure, Eddie had woken up to baskets with plastic grass of various pastel colors when he was a kid, when Wayne was determined to give Eddie as normal of an upbringing as possible, but they've never had to plan a meal. There've never been assignments, or coordination, or questions like Who's bringing the mashed potatoes? Either Wayne grabs them at the store, or they don’t have them. Easy peasy.

This year is different. Easter 1987 brings friends, family, and a list that looks a lot like a menu on Steve Harrington's refrigerator. Eddie's name is scrawled in Steve's handwriting next to mashed potatoes, which explains why there's a huge pot of water on the stove and five pounds of potatoes glaring at him on Steve's counter. 

It doesn’t take much to convince Steve, who’s lovesick beyond words unbeknownst to Eddie, to let him take over his larger, better-equipped kitchen for the occasion. A simple pout and the fluttering of his eyelashes as he makes his case: "Please, Stevie? Take pity on poor ol' Eddie with his lack of a stand mixer and counterspace?” 

So he finds himself at the counter, music blasting at what feels like a soothing billion and five decibels, cutting potatoes like the cookbook he finds in the clutter of the trailer illustrates and bopping around to Dio’s Holy Diver. He isn’t much of a cook but there’s something comforting about the monotonous repetition of peeling and cutting, and plopping them into the pot of water. Comforting enough, in fact, that he doesn’t feel Steve’s eyes on him from the doorway, watching with a warm, fond smile. 

Steve watches and lets his thoughts drift, just for a moment, to future holidays. Of Memorial Day picnics, and Fourth of July pool parties, of birthdays, and Thanksgivings, and Christmases, and in all of them, every version and every iteration his hysterical, lovesick brain can conjure in that doorway, he wants this. He wants Eddie with wild hair just barely holding onto the elastic tying it back, with sweatpants that show his level of comfort around Steve, that show he can relax and not put on all of the airs he typically does for his look. Shit, he even wants to hear fucking Dio playing in the kitchen from the goddamn garage if it signals Eddie being present. 

He’s not sure when he started moving, but his body pulls him into the kitchen like the magnet holding the menu to the refrigerator door. 

“Hey,” he says, striding up to stand next to Eddie at the counter. “Need some help?” 

Eddie smiles and takes a sip of the beer Steve hasn’t seen until now, another indicator of Eddie making himself right at home. 

“The King assisting the lowly cook here? In the Castle kitchen? I’m honored.” Eddie fakes what Steve assumes is supposed to be a courtesy. He chuckles and hip bumps Eddie when he straightens back out. 

“Oh shut it and scoot over.” Steve’s voice betrays him, too syrupy and sweet to carry any annoyance, and Eddie notices. He turns just slightly, watching as Steve rummages through a drawer for a second knife. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you actually want to spend your morning making mashed potatoes with me, Steve.” 

He’s caught. Steve’s caught, hook, line, and sinker, and something about the genuine curiosity and hope in Eddie’s voice makes that okay. He doesn’t mind being caught when he’s in the safety of this domestic bubble with Eddie, because that’s what it is. It’s safe. 

The first round of potatoes don’t come out well. Their first kiss over the gloppy, gummy potatoes though? That goes perfectly.

[volturiprincess]

Gata Only

Felix Volturi x fem human reader

Summary: Felix chasing after his human mate as pyramid head. What happens when he finally reaches her? Warnings: Smut! Minors Skedaddle, Primal play, Foul Language, kind of an abrupt ending but I liked it🤭 A/N: I came up with this idea so long ago and at first it was just going to be like a chasing scene and thats it but I didn't want it to end up like another WIP. Also this idea came to mind when I reblogged this Pyramid head post a while ago (it has been on mind my since). The music inspiration for this was "Gata Only" by Floyymenor ft Cris Mj (seems perfect since my name is also Mj🤭) and "El Clavo (remix)" by Prince Royce and my man Maluma. Enjoy💙 Word Count: 2975

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Scratch….

Clang….

Scratch…

Clang….

SCRATCH!....

CLANG!

Is he getting closer!? The scraping of his long heavy great knife created a deep vibration that metaphorically created an electrical current to run through me. The corridor seems to go on for miles, there’s no ending to it or hope that I will make it out in time before he reaches me.

Even though he is not using his speed to reach me, his long strides that echo in the hallways along with his weapon makes me more eager to keep running for my life. My lungs feel like they are going to collapse from the sheer amount of oxygen I am inhaling and exhaling through my nose as I move forward. How am I still able to have enough energy to keep moving? I want to cry out for help, for someone to save me from this but there's no one, not one breathing or non-breathing soul is around for miles. 

I keep on breathing for my dear life, In…Out…In…Out. But I feel no matter how much I'm trying to compose my breathing to a steady beat my lungs are still trying to grasp for more oxygen. My legs feel like they will give out any minute now but refuse from the extensive vibration of the knife. The fear I am carrying is what is fueling me to keep going and not to look back, I do not want to see if he’s close or not.

But then the worst thing I could ever experience happened, silence. No more scraping or clanging noise, no more heavy footsteps and no more feeling the vibration of his knife run through my bones. Just pure silence followed. I could only hear my speeding heartbeat and my heavy breathing now. 

Should I turn around? What if when I do he’s right there ready to devour me or he’s at a distance hiding in the shadows this corridor holds? I decided to just do it, I turn slowly toward where I believe he would be but to my dismay I am  met with no one. No one is there. Not him, just shadows and the small light that the torches provide on the ancient looking brick walls Where can he be? Considering he’s a large man and easy to spot, the shadows seem to be on his side currently.

I thought for a split second my eyes saw a slight outline of a tall man with a pyramid like mask with a great knife resting over his shoulder as his exposed upper body was being countered by the shadows, making him seem unrealistic. But once I blinked the outline of the man was gone. Did I truly see him or not? 

I think the anticipation of trying to find him is making me see things to ease my mind. I stare at the spot where I believed I saw him a bit longer to see if I can actually see him but the dark shadows keep messing with my vision. I turn back to facing the way I was running toward too when….I see him.

There he is, twenty feet away. Just like I thought I imagined him earlier in the shadows. Tall and muscular, with his upper body exposed with spots of murk on his abdomen, chest and on his muscular arms I been blessed to have been wrapped around me multiple times. A dark brown cloth hanging dangerously low on his slutty waist, giving a glimpse of his v-line I could not get my eyes off. His great knife was resting on his shoulder, while doing so his arm was flexed at the perfect angle that showcased his mouth watering veins. But the star of the show, his mask, the classic pyramid head he got custom made for himself for this specific night was resting at an angle, almost taunting me to get on my knees for him.

Flashback

“Come on fe, it will be fun”

“I don’t know corazon, it sounds a bit…intense”

“Thats the purpose, its suppose to be like that and besides I thought you would like the idea, think of it like predator and prey kind of situation”

He paused for a minute, thinking over the words I told him. I can see I'm already convincing him in this, he finds it hard to say no to me. His mischievous little mate, always having little plans to spice things up in their lives. 

“Alright i'm convinced but on one condition”

I nod for him to continue, trying to mask my excitement to his agreement.

“You wear that one outfit that one princess wore in that space movie you showed me the other day, I wanna see your thighs exposed when I'm chasing you, deal?”

I shiver slightly at his words, now I know why he’s been wanting to watch Return of the Jedi more often. He’s been picturing me in that outfit, even if it's something I would never wear out in public, for him sure, he is my mate after all. 

“Deal”

With my agreement, he does not try to hide his own excitement, on the contrary he lets his infamous shit-eating grin spread across his lips. Not shying away in showing his sharp canines. He knows what that look does to me but I keep myself composed not wanting to feed his ego anymore.

Present

And so just with that talk, that's where we stand now. He still stands there, even if I cannot see his face currently. I know he has that said grin when I agreed to his part of the deal not that long ago. I'm astonished by how much effort he put into this, he is literally pyramid head in real life, the movies could never look like this vampire does. The way my eyes were ogling at his exposed upper limbs, out of all the times I saw this man completely exposed, I still have not gotten used to it. 

He drops his great knife, letting a loud clang echo in the empty hallways. It makes me flinch slightly but my eagerness to see what he does next leaves me no time to be scared. With the hand that was holding his knife, he removed his mask off in one swift movement. He definitely has been practicing in how to take it off because it was so smooth of a transition. His handsome face was finally revealed to me, and I was right, he did have that smirk plastered on. His eyes shamelessly scanned me from head to toe, not even bothering to hide the way his smirk seemed to grow more. When he returned back to my face, he bore his eyes into mine. His gaze was so intense that I could not find the strength to break eye contact, I was locked into him. 

Felix started to take precautions steps toward me, more like he was stalking towards me like a hungry predator does to its prey. In this case he is hungry, hungry for me. I took small backward steps until I was against the wall with him getting closer and closer before he stopped inches away from me. I felt my adrenaline increase more and my poor little heart was almost jumping out of my ribcage. He towered over me, glaring down at me when he reached a hand to grab my chin a bit forcefully but at the same time gently. No words have been spoken but our eyes alone are doing all the talking.. 

Without any warning he places his hands under my thighs lifting me up slightly, giving me a cue to wrap my legs around him. My hands immediately rest on his broad shoulders as he pressed himself into me. His muscular body has me pinned against the wall, flush against me, leaving no space inbetween. His grip on my thighs tightened slightly making me gasp slightly.

“Just what you wanted, huh?”

I nodded, still unable to speak yet.

“Awe are we being shy now? You were so excited for this and yet it seems cat caught your tongue”

I wanted to say something but his taunting is making it very hard for me to speak up, it's not even helping that I can feel how hard he is getting and how he is slightly grinding into me at a slow tortures pace. I needed more, wanted more but I knew if I spoke up it would come out more in whines and would make me look pathetic in front of him. He leaned into my neck, inhaling my scent. 

“Hmmmm, you smell so fucking delicious doll, seems all that running somehow made your scent more…addicting”

I shiver at his words. It has always caught me of guard when he curses, but fuck does he sound so hot. I thought for sure I would smell terrible after sweating bullets from the amount of running I had to do but the way I know this man would never lie to me when it comes to me, makes me feel reassured. I felt his cold lips on my throat, giving me a tenderful kiss that created another ripple of shivers to run down my body. His torturous pace of his grinding still maintains as I just accept that is all I'm getting right now. 

But his pace was rapidly building up my need for him, not that it was not already strong since the beginning of this primal play. 

I manage to horsley say “Felix..please”

“What's that doll? Couldn't hear you?”

Tease. “You heard me”

“Tsk,tsk. Are we getting an attitude now? I could walk away from you and leave you all hot and bothered. You want that?”

I shook my head immediately, knowing him I know he would do that, he’s done it before when I was being a “brat”. He shifted me higher up his body so I was right above his waist, the way he can just manhandle carelessly always leaves me breathless. 

“Just getting you ready for me, can't have you all dry now, can we?”

I shook my head once again but stayed quiet, not wanting to let my frustration show or accidentally say something I might regret later. But this is not enough for me, do I dare say something then?

“Fe?”

He stopped his movements to look into my eyes once again. “Yes?”

“Could you maybe…use your fingers instead, please?”

His grin returned immediately which caused my face to heat up in embarrassment from the request I asked him.

“Well look at you being a big girl and using your words doll, since you asked so nicely and even used please, I shall compromise this one time.” 

I sigh in relief as I felt one of his colossal hands move toward the waistband of the gold bikini bottom from my costume. I was unsure what he was about to do put the sudden tear of the material answered my question.

“Felix!?”

“Hmmm”

“W-why?”

He answered like it was nothing. “It was in the way”

For fucks sake, it took me forever to find these specific pair only for it to be ripped off. Should not have been surprised since anything scandalous like my current attire will not last long in one piece, he is a beast of a man for a reason. His previous actions of wandering continued as he let his hand get closer to where I needed him the most. His cold touch sent endless ripples to run through me as he finally did one long slow stroke to my heat with his pointer finger. It was such a delicious feel of his fingers that it almost made my eyes roll back.

“What a reaction, and I haven’t even fucked you yet”

I whimpered slightly as his words as his thumb started to draw small deep circles on my clit. I need more of him now. As if he could read my mind two of his thick long fingers went into my already growing wet pussy. Fuck! His fingers felt so good and his trust were ruthless. He even at some point stopped rubbing circles and instead was putting pressure on it. With just his fingers I was growing closer to my release. I think he realized too with the way I was clenching around his fingers.

I was so close….then he stopped. My eyes opened immediately and I looked at him. His grin still plastered on his face as he saw my disappointed look.

“Patience little love, just wanted to half prep you”

The fingers that were resting in me were pulled out and went to his lips. his tongue darted out to lick them  clean. The way his tongue cleaned off his fingers was such an erotic scene to witness. How can this man get anymore hot? And to top it off he maintained eye contact with me, as if I was not internally losing it over how sensual he looked with the way he was licking his fingers.

“So sweet, now i'm sure all that running made you sweeter in every aspect”

I give him a slight flustered look with how vulgar he is being. Still being hoisted up by my thighs and him having a firm grip on my waist, the hand that was minutes before inside of me moved to the cloth that was covering his lower limbs. He went to the side of where the cloth was being held and in one swift movement, much like how he removed the mask effortlessly, he pulled it apart to reveal his completely naked body to me. 

“No undergarments?”

“Thought it was unnecessary, plus it makes our situation more easier”

Easier said than done for sure. He leaned in to capture my lips into a searing kiss, his tongue pushing through my lips effortlessly with such a fierce passion. I gasp into the kiss enjoying the coldness he brings into my warm mouth. I felt him give out a deep groan as I felt his sharp canines graze my lower lip in a tantalizing promise of the pleasure he will give me soon enough. He breaks away from the kiss for me to catch my breath as his irises have finally succumbed to black and his red eyes were no more. He gives my waist a quick squeeze as he grabs his cock, rubbing the tip of it into my folds, teasing in a way until I see how he uses the arousal from earlier  as lubricant as he moves his hand in a stroking motion.

I take a quick breath as he looks back to me with a smirk on his handsome face as he watches me looking at the way he touches himself. 

“Ready?”

“Yes felix”

I would have just nodded but this cocky son of a bitch loves to tease me when I don't use my words, learned that lesson long ago unfortunately. He positions me and slips into me slowly, he knows he’s big and since i'm still human he always slips in slowly as to not cause any more harm. He pushes himself all the way in until our pelvises meet, the stretched once again like every time we done this is so addicting and oh so delicious. 

He pulls out almost all the way out but does a quick put powerful trust into me, catching me off guard but that immediately starts to set the pace of his trust. My eyes find it difficult to stay open and my mouth spills endless moans that Felix himself always craves to hear. With my eyes half lidded I catch the way how Felix’s eyes roll back, just with that sight it had me clenching around him signaling him that im close.

“Your so tight amore but fuck you feel so good wrapped around my cock” 

The long empty hallways are echoed with the sound of our skin slapping as he increases his speed to a more powerful trust. He leans into my neck letting his teeth scrape along my neck, but not enough to draw blood. He nips and sucks along my skin as to mark me.

He pulled his face away from my neck to mumble a quick “Just a little something to remember this night cara”

I felt Felix’s cock twitch inside me, as his swollen head kept on rubbing against my inner walls. Everytime he would pull out slightly and slam back into me left me seeing stars for a brief couple of seconds. All thoughts have been knocked out of my mind as all I can focus on was him alone. How his abs tensed slightly as he was holding himself back from going feral or the way he was biting his lip to hold in any loud moans that I am desperate to hear. I lean into his shoulder and sink my teeth into it, knowing that will get what I want to hear, his moans. Soon enough he is the one becoming more vocal than me, and his moans are echoing in the hall.

I turn my head slightly up to him to see his eyes fill with tears. Wanting to push him away to ask what happened or if I somehow hurted him with the bite, which is highly unlikely but you never know. He instead started to trust into me a bit sloppy and slower to really capture the love.

“You crying fe?”

He shakes his head as he sucks in an unnecessary breath “No cara, it's just your pussy feels so good wrapped around me”

Pussy so good, I made a whole ass unit of a man cry. So much for primal play, and him having to hunt me down to fuck me until I'm the one crying. Pyramid head wasndefinitely the best idea i ever had, second to staying in Italy forever with Felix.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I have always enjoyed writing Felix's dialogue, the way when I re-read some of the things I have him say always catch me off guard and a bit flustered sometimes. I might of not used a certain line that a certain white haired blue eyed man has said in an anime🤭. Anyways....Happy Halloween🎃

[yaut-jaknowit]

It's All About Size

Pairings: Mai'tuiudh (Male Yautja) x Male Reader

Warnings: very suggestive themes, HEAVY size kink, sprinkles of praise, mlm, horny reader

Word Count: 1981

Summary: You're new to the realm of living out in space, stuck with only one other person on the ship. A large, blue Yautja, who trains on a regular basis. He easily dwarfs you. You're tall for a human but not for this Yautja. It's been brewing within your mind for a while now, ever since he picked you up from earth. Mia'tuiudh isn't as oblivious as you may hope he is. You won't be complaining in the end.

Author Note: I was scrolling through the Yautja tag when I stumbled upon an amazing idea. Yautja's and size kink. It's a main thing about them. Also, if you guys got ideas, don't be afraid to shove them into my inbox. It's currently open. I'm happy to write!

P.S. I'm still new to writing same-sex relationship's. If you guys can give me help, that would be amazing! Thank you

Dedicated to @kissmyaft. Thank you for this wonderful idea! You should check out my masterlist, wink-wink. Most of my stuff is gender neutral, just look at the pairings :)

Masterlist

Ao3

The calming noise of a blade sliding through a sharpener washed over you. It’s handle held firmly within your grasp. You weren’t no hunter, compared to the bulky beast honing his skills before you. That didn’t stop him from teaching the ways to be a hunter. If you were going to be on his ship, share his bed and food, you were going to learn. That’s what he told you on the first day.

Said alien danced before you, knocking a drone away from him. Another came up to zap at his glistening scales yet the Yautja was already in motion. Your eyes watched as he easily defended himself from these sparring drones.

Blood started to head south within your body. Even as tall as you are for a man, Mai’tuiudh towered over you. You haven’t met any others of his kind. It made you wonder if he average or not for his own height. Not that it bothered you. Not at all.

Red dusted your cheeks once you felt your pants tighten. Curses already formed within your head as you spun around. You faced the workbench in the back of the sparring room and focused on sharping the hunting knife in your hand.

Mai stopped what he was doing when an ambrosial scent washed over him. A drone was able to zap him on the back. Pain shocked through his system, but he didn’t even feel it. The smell drawing him in.

With a short click of his tusks, the drones stopped moving. They quietly returned back to their holes in the wall. His eyes shot over to the only other being on his ship. A minute smirk growing on his mandibles. Mai has had theories about the ooman. But this sealed his fate to Mai.

Long strides of powerful legs carried Mai easily over to oblivious ooman. Mai was a Yautja of action. He wasn’t about to dance around the ooman. But at the same time, why not tease you? Have some fun along the way. Oh, that thought made his chest rumble.

You tensed at the impossibly close noise, head snapping towards the origin. A gasp almost tore at your throat. There, in all his glory, stood Mai’tuiudh. His navy-blue chest rising and falling with each deep breath. Moisture stuck to his scales like a second skin; not sweat but humidity from the ship. Burnt orange eyes set on you. Your lips pressed together at the sight before you.

It took all of your willpower not to let your knees collapse underneath you. That didn’t stop them from shaking. “Hey-hey, uh, hey. Um, so. What’s up?” God, you were a mess. Just at the sight of him and you were acting like you were asking a girl out back in middle school.

Yet, the blue Yautja didn’t say anything. Mai just kept watching you with those striking eyes of his. His mandibles barely twitched.

Confused, maybe a little worked up too, you slowly turned back around to the work bench. It wasn’t unusual for the Yautja to be silent. He was a hunter after all. Yet, you were suspicious of his actions. But, these knives and whatnot won’t sharpen themselves. He’ll either get bored or finally speak when he wanted to.

Hands rested on your hips. Warmth washed over your back as a blazing body pressed up into you. A gasp finally scratched at your throat. Your hands slapped down on the metal bench and try to grasp it. Heat raced through your veins at the feeling of him. “Ma-Mai, what a-“ his claws start to press into your skin. You force yourself to bite your bottom lip to stop from moaning.

Your growing erection jumped at the feel of Mai. Said alien made it worse. Mai tugged you flushed with his moist scales and placed his jaw on top of your head. One of his arms slid around your torso and held you there. Shit, he’s so big.

He tasted the heavy air and let his chest rumbled. You smelled divine, right for the taking. Yet, he stayed there. “Aren’t you suppose to be sharpening my weapons?” he purred into your ear. Your entire body trembled, one that he relished in. Mai felt his own body behave in return at yours.

“It’s, it’s really ha-hard to focus… when you’re pres-sed up against me,” you stuttered, hands shakily reaching out to grasp the sharpener. Paya, if he knew you were going to react like this, he should’ve done this a long time ago. He’s had his suspicions for awhile now. It was many rotations after you joined him.

Mai ignored what you had told him. “Tell me, why are you behaving this way? If you do, I’ll let you go.” You didn’t want him to let go. On the other hand, to save yourself the growing embarrassment, you would be forced to tell him. If only the ground would open up and swallow you whole. Worst of all, it had to be the truth as well. Mai could smell when you lied.

A short purr rumbled from his chest. The vibrations rolled over your sensitive skin before hitting your hardening cock. Your eyes rolled back, throat closing before any sounds could escape. You bite your bottom lip so hard you tasted blood. Oh fuck, you were in some deep trouble now. You couldn’t trust your voice now, without making a noise that would embarrass you.

The Yautja made a soft noise and peered over your shoulder to look you in the eye. When you absolutely refused to do that, head turned away, he purred again. Same reaction from your body.

Fuck! You had to get him off of you. Now. He was far stronger than you, had the height advantage, and skills to put you face first into the ground. God, that made everything worse.

With reddened cheeks and no dignity left, you spilled what you hidden deep. “Size kink!” you shouted at first, voice two notches higher. “I have a-a size kink, alright?” Those words were said with such defeat. At the same time though, it felt like a huge weight was lifted off of your shoulders. Though, the embarrassment now would kill you.

Since you finally exposed yourself to the only other being on this spaceship, you believed he would release you. No, he didn’t. Mai tightened his grasp and placed his chin back on your head. “Hmm, you like the fact I’m bigger than you? Stronger than you? The fact I can easily dominate you?” He was loving every second of this. One of your hands grasped at the one on your stomach. His claws biting into your skin when you did. How did he know? Those words…

“Ever since I’ve been to earth, I’ve done my fair share of reading. A smart hunter researches before the hunt,” he mumbled. The hand on your stomach petting at the skin there. Your hormones were going haywire at this point.

That means he’s known almost this entire time.

Since that day, things have changed. You had spilled your hidden secret to him, one he’ll forever tease you about. You, a ooman, loving his size and strength. Though, nothing happened afterwards. You were nervous on the whole ordeal. That doesn’t stop him from randomly coming up behind you, hands skating over your skin. Purrs vibrating your skin. It makes you ache for him. But you never had the balls to ask or even suggest such a thing.

Water dripped down the toned body of Mai’tuiudh. The blue Yautja shook his head, droplets splashing about in the washroom. His dark tresses slapping against his hide. Your eyes refused to move away from his handsome frame; no matter how hard you tried. Everything about him screamed power.

His perfectly shaped ass was facing you as the Yautja bent over to pick his discarded loin cloth up. You would happily take a bite out of it. Your eyes widened at that thought. With a disappointing huff to yourself, you refocused on the tablet before you. Sometimes you could be unhinged.

The familiar musk Mai produced washed over you. You took in a deep breath at that and softly closed your eyes. It’s heavy and fills the room due to the humidity.

There was the soft pitter-patter of Mai’s wet feet as he moved around. Mai dropped his loin cloth somewhere to the side then headed towards you. You didn’t think much of it as you opened your eyes and continued screwing about on your tablet. A simple game pulled up for the fun of it. You have to keep yourself busy or else you’ll go made out here in space.

Two blue legs appeared in the edge of your vision. A brow was softly raised at this but you held strong. If you happened to look up, you might get caught looking. He would tease you all over again.

Mai just stood there, burning eyes set solely on you. His hands twitched at his sides. He wanted you to want him the same way he does. The ache that resonated deep within his bones. It made him want to touch you, tease your softer skin, lick it. Draw out those light noise you believe he doesn’t hear while you’re in the bathroom alone. He wanted to fill you, keep you close in his arms. Be his mate.

With two easy strides down further into the concave bed, he knelt down between your open legs. You kept your eyes glue to the device in hand. Your body tensed, hands grasping the tablet a little too hard. What in the world was he doing?!

Blue fingers wrapped around the top of the tablet and pushed it down. When you still refused to look him in the eye, he used that same hand to tilt your chin up at him. Your eyes locked onto his almost immediately, biting your bottom lip at the sight.

He continued to crawl forward, staying on the balls of his feet. As he did so, you were forced to lay back on the pelts around you. “Good boy,” he whispered and placed his free arm next to your head. At those words, your brain short circuited. All you could hear was him chuckling.

When a warm palm touched your thigh, you snapped back to reality, gazing up at the large Yautja. Mai snaked his hand up, pushing up the hem of your t-shirt. Claws skated over your sensitive stomach before stopping. His entire paw covered almost all of your belly, thumb gently stroking the skin there. He leaned down, creating a curtain with his tresses around the two of you. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this. I’ll stop,” he clicked lowly, eyes boring into yours.

You took great notice of him. His bulky body hovering over yours, easily swallowing you in his shadow. Hand able to take up almost all of your stomach. If he wanted to, he could easily pin you down and fuck you with his size alone; plus his strength, you would never stand a chance against him. No, instead, he was asking.

One final look into his burnt orange eyes. You reached out, discarding the tablet to the side, and hooked your arm around the back of his neck. “Please don’t stop.”

[riacte]

There’s only one slot left.

Fruit’s panicking, because he knows he won’t make it. Technically, there’s a chance, but he dooms himself before he can get his hopes up.

Still, he runs. The cold wind feels like a knife against his cheek. He nimbly slips through crushing walls, ducks a large swinging hammer, and makes his way to the finish line where he swears he can hear his friends—

One of those damn ventilation fans. How much does he loathe the mandatory wait.

Fruit’s forced to wait anxiously, time ticking. Death is approaching, surely this fan will be his downfall, surely he’s gonna die, surely—

“Aww, Fruitberries.”

No way. A familiar voice behind him. Fruit can’t afford to dwell on that, so when the fan pushes both of them up, Fruit doesn’t think. He just bolts for the exit.

Because of fucking course it’s Iskall. Iskall, the one who sought him out on day one when Fruit had planned to greet Ren and the other hermits he knew from MCC. Iskall, who bribed him with ten gifted and promised to be bros. Iskall, who looked so lonely and distraught after his friends died in the doll game and Fruit had smiled at him to make him feel better.

Iskall and him. Fighting for the last place.

They’re on the same team too, aren’t they? Sneeg chose them both and thank fuck for Sneeg. Fruit had wanted Iskall before all of that, but he couldn’t really vocalise it to the group. Iskall had charmed him over (the hermits are always a charming bunch), he wanted to help him out, it looked like it wasn’t going to work out, but it did, and now it looks like it’s not going to work out.

Fruit sees his friends across the finish line and he can’t even bother to smile because he’s so damn tense. They’re screaming and yelling for him, cheering his name, arms outstretched. They’re calling for him to live. To live on like the rest of them. To step into the sun.

Half a second.

That’s the lead Fruit has over Iskall. He steps over, falls into the arms of someone, there’s a raucous cheer, he feels like he’s stopped breathing even though the ominous bell tells him he lived.

He lived! Fruit lives!

But that can only mean one thing.

Fruit turns around. Iskall is frozen right before the finish line, a peculiar look in his eyes— defeat, sadness, yet with a strange look of pride.

Iskall is the last surviving hermit. His buddies, the buddies that Fruit knows of, all got eliminated. Their wishes live on via Iskall. And now their wishes live on via Fruit.

“I’m sorry,” Fruit manages to get out. It was either him or Iskall. There was no beating around the bush. He lived, so Iskall died.

Iskall, his day one buddy. Iskall who sought him out in a baffling interaction. Iskall, whom Fruit was relieved to team with.

But Fruit’s got his own goal too. He wants to win with his buddies, he’s got his own wishes to carry on, and he wants to live.

This started out as a lighthearted comedy, and now it’s abruptly a tragedy. But despite everything, the ice cold Iskall manages to smile.

“Good luck, Fruit. You deserved this.”

Iskall turns grey and dissipates into the dark mist, leaving no trace behind. So close, yet so far. The divide between shadow and light. Orpheus and Eurydice. Iskall dies. Fruit lives. The competition goes on.

Fruit looks at the emptiness—

and looks away.

[bantaro-bird]

Stuck Here A Little While

That’s right, I’ve finally done it. After teasing for months, I hecking wrote the fic. In this AU, Grian and Mumbo Jumbo are borrowers. If you don’t know what that is, go watch The Secret World of Arrietty or something.

I am more familiar with some of these people than others, so I am hoping my characterization for each is at least decent. [] Lastly, I want to mention the drawings I’ve included were doodled over the past few months as I’ve been thinking about the story. I hope you enjoy~

EDIT: I finally named the story.

Grian had just escaped being tormented by a stray cat, making it out alive, but bleeding profusely from a deep bite wound. He hobbled into an alley and sat against the wall. Blood was trailing into the street. He was unable to move much, so he was basically waiting to die. Just then, Lizzie was arriving home with some groceries and stopped at the sight of the blood. She followed it into the alley and found Grian. She pushed the shock of the sight to the back of her mind, as his wellbeing was clearly more urgent. She set her bags down and gently went to pick him up. As this developed, Grian was thinking to himself. He knows what humans are like, generally. That they’re just people. Some are dangerous, some are kind, some are manipulative. Borrowers are taught from a young age not to mingle with humans, because even if one seems friendly, it’s not worth the risk of being tricked. But in this case, he had no choice. So he was desperately hoping this was a nice one. She carried him inside and set him on the kitchen counter by the sink. She told him to stay calm and assured him she was going to take care of him.

She said, “I’m going to lift your shirt up to see the wound, okay?” As she worked, she kept communicating with him, so as not to scare him. 

“This is really nasty. How did this happen?” She asked. Grian explained that he had been caught by a cat and barely got away. Lizzie cleaned and disinfected the bite, then had him keep pressure on it while she got bandages. After he was wrapped up, she grabbed a bottle of paracetamol and laid a pill on the counter. To Grian’s horror, she brought out a big chopping knife. She used it to cut the pill, and half of it crumbled into a lump of powder. She asked him to take a pinch of it. She then filled a shot glass with water and stuck a coffee stirrer in it. She apologized that it was still awkwardly large, but it was the best she could do. She gave him the water and instructed him to use it to take the pain medicine. She then asked for his jumper so she could try and get the blood out of it. This was a task she didn’t need to speak to him about, and it was going to take a few minutes, so they finally had a moment of quiet to take the situation in. After a pause, Grian spoke up, “Thank you for helping me. I don’t think I would have made it.” 

“Of course!” She replied, a bit anxiously, “I mean, you looked like you really needed help. I wasn’t gonna just leave you there. I’m Lizzie, by the way.” 

“Oh, right. Uh, my name’s Grian.” 

There was another pause before Lizzie asked him, “I’m sorry. This- I don’t know if this is a rude thing to ask, but… What are you?” Grian was taken aback.

“I- I’m a borrower. I don’t- do I look like something else?”

“No, but, well… What’s a borrower? That sounds more like an occupation than a species.” He couldn’t believe his ears. Lizzie had never even heard of borrowers. She didn’t know what they were. I mean, he supposed it made sense, but it had never even occurred to him. All borrowers are taught not to talk to humans and to stay out of sight. How in the world were humans supposed to know they were around? She really didn’t know anything. He was going to have to start from scratch.

“It’s sort of both.” He informed her. “We’re called that because we borrow things. Small things that humans wouldn’t miss. Like tissues, a bit of sugar, some string, that sort of thing. We use those things to feed ourselves and build our lives. We live in small, isolated communities. We have to. If too many of us are in one place, we get too noisy, and they find us.” He stopped, realizing what he was beginning to say. He wasn’t sure how to talk to a human about how much of a threat humans are to his kind. 

Lizzie pressed the shirt between her fingers under the stream of tap water, and the stream turned red briefly. “So… you’re saying there are more of you. And that you’re all over the place, but no one has ever noticed you?”

“That’s been the goal.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. For all the scientists and record keepers over all of human history, I can’t be the first human to have ever spoken to a borrower. Do you have some sort of camouflage magic or something?”

Grian raised his eyebrows. “Oh, no, you misunderstand! You’re not the first. In the grand scheme of things, we get found relatively often. Besides families becoming too large, being found is probably the number one reason borrowers move house. Growing up, we hear our parents repeat all kinds of horror stories about borrowers who-” He stumbled over his sentence, but pressed through, “Who- well, who encountered a human… and didn't… come back.”

“WHAT!?” Lizzie startled Grian with her volume. He flinched and then winced. The sudden motion disturbed his wound. “You’re telling me that humans have found tiny little men and then decided to HURT THEM!? WHY?” After getting her whole thought out, she saw how scared Grian looked and shrunk backward. “S-sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. I just- I just can’t imagine why someone would want to hurt you. You’re just… You’re just a little guy.” She had started to drift into a bit of a baby voice at the end there. Grian chuckled, and then winced.

Grumbling he said, “Aw, you’ve got to be kidding me! It even hurts to laugh.”

“Listen,” Lizzie began, “I know we’ve only just met, but you’re clearly in no state to go back outside. I can try to help you get back home or, if you want, you’re completely welcome to stay here for as long as you need. It won’t be any trouble, really!” Grian paused to think on this. Lizzie couldn’t help him get home, even if she tried. He couldn’t think of any way for her to access his home without tearing some things apart, and there was no way he was going to be able to drag himself to his house by himself. Even if he could, once he was there, there wouldn’t be anyone to take care of him. He wished he could just stay with his neighbor, Mumbo, but he knew that was just as unlikely. He found himself in essentially the same position as when she found him outside, in that he really didn’t have any choice.

He looked back up at her. “Yeah, I don’t imagine I can get anywhere else with or without help. I really appreciate it.” Lizzie was now patting the little yellow jumper dry between some paper towels. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to get all of the blood out. It covered the lower right half of the jumper and had already dried at the edges. While the stain was much more faded from being washed, it was still clearly present; Although if you didn’t know any better, it almost looked like an intentional design. She set it down next to him.

“Sorry. I wasn’t able to get all the blood out. But at least it looks a lot better than when I found you outs- - Outside! The groceries!” Without another word, she sprinted out the front door to retrieve the bags she had left in the alley. Now that he was alone, Grian turned his head gently to look behind him. Behind the sugar jar he could barely see it. A little inconspicuous crack around the rim of a backsplash tile. He turned back to the jumper sitting next to him. This was his favourite jumper. There was no way, even able bodied, that he would have been able to do this good a job with the stain. As he put it back on, Lizzie came back in. She set the bags down and began to unpack them. Once everything was put in the fridge, she sighed in relief. As she folded the bags to put away, she asked him if he had eaten lunch. He said he was fine, so she told him she was going to retire to the living room and to give her a shout if he needed anything. It felt a bit impolite to leave him alone, but she was a little scared to move him. And she didn’t know him very well yet. She thought it best to give him his space. She didn’t shut the kitchen door behind her. From where Grian was, he could barely see Lizzie take a seat on a recliner, open a bag of pretzels, and turn the TV on. She kept it on low volume. Grian examined his wound again. He tried to stand, but couldn’t. At least, not without bearing severe pain. He winced as he tried to at least find a way to rest that was comfortable. The cold countertop did not make for a very good bed. Giving up, he called out.

“Lizzie!” She popped up from her chair and poked her head back into the kitchen.

“Yeah?”

“I hate to be a bother, I know you just sat down, but is there anything more comfortable I could rest on?” Lizzie looked around and thought to herself. She went to the linen closet and grabbed a couple of hand towels. She came back and arranged them on the counter like a bed with a pillow and blanket, with plenty of back support. She offered him a finger to hold for stability as he climbed onto it.

“This is much more comfortable, thank you.”

“It’s no problem. Again, don’t hesitate to shout if you need anything at all. You don’t need to be exerting yourself while that heals.” She returned to the living room to watch her show. Grian laid back and pulled the blanket up. He figured, as bad as he felt, the best thing to do was probably to try and get some rest. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. 

He had never been less tired in his life. A couple minutes passed. He opened his eyes. He knew there was no way he was going to get any sleep. He could faintly hear the TV in the next room, but couldn’t understand enough of the dialogue to follow the story. There was nothing else to keep his interest in this room. He bit his lip. He knew exactly what he wanted, but he felt terrible asking for it.

“Lizzie…” He called as timidly as he could while retaining enough volume to be heard. Lizzie got up and poked her head back through the doorway.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to be a bother. I- I mean I hate to intrude. I was just wondering… if you wouldn’t mind letting me come watch TV with you?”

“Ah.” She looked down and to the side, with what appeared to be a frustrated expression. Grian felt awful. He was being the imposition he feared to become. 

“I-it’s okay. I’m sorry I even asked. You just go ahead and watch by your-”

Lizzie cut him off “What? No no no. Of course you can come! I’d love the company. I’m just trying to figure out how to transport you without disturbing your wound. I think I’ve got an idea.” She stepped into the living room and picked up a wooden lap tray off the ottoman. She brought it into the kitchen and aligned the surface with the countertop in front of Grian. Ensuring the surfaces were adequately flush, she leaned forward to hold it in place with her knee and hip. She held the near corners of the towel between her fingers and gently slid the whole make-shift bed onto the tray. She moved his water to the tray as well, then took the tray back in her hands and slowly carried it back into the living room, taking care not to spill the water or jostle the Grian. She set it down on the end table between the two recliners. She took a seat herself and turned the volume up a little. She unrolled her bag of pretzels and popped one in her mouth, then offered one to Grian. He held it in both hands and took a tiny little bite out of it. Lizzie had to remind herself that this was a grown man and just a regular old person. She had to fight the urge to absolutely melt because no matter what it was, everything he did was adorable.

An episode or two of TV later, the two heard a door open across the house. Lizzie recognized it as the sound of her husband, Joel, coming home from work. Grian also recognized that a new human had entered the house and tensed up. His instinct was to run and hide. But with that option eliminated, what was he meant to do? He stared at the doorway, frozen in fear. Joel entered the living room and Lizzie greeted him.

“Joel! The craziest thing happened today and you wouldn’t believe it if you couldn’t see it with your own eyes!” Joel hadn’t noticed Grian yet. He was a bit sarcastically indignant.

“Oh, I see. We just go straight to talking about you. No ‘How was your day?’ No, it’s fine!”

“Joel! Look!” Lizzie gestured to Grian, who was shrinking behind his towel-blanket, eyes darting between Lizzie and Joel. Joel stared in awed silence. He slowly climbed into the empty recliner to get a better look, gaze fixed on Grian the whole time.

Lizzie continued, “I went to the shop today and when I came home I found him bleeding out in the alley, so I brought him in and cleaned him up. His name is Grian. Grian, this is my husband, Joel.” Grian felt as if Lizzie was encouraging him to feel comfortable, but it was hard with such big eyes fixed so securely on him. He wasn’t able to formulate a reply.

Joel spoke slowly, in a quiet voice, “Hey there little guy… What are you?” Grian began to stutter the words out, but before he could make much noise Lizzie blurted it out.

“He says he’s a borrower! They’re just like humans except small, of course, and they-”

Joel cut her off, “Yeah, I know what a borrower is. I just thought they were make-believe, you know?” His gaze had now relaxed. He had looked at Lizzie to speak to her.

Grian finally piped up, “Y-you’ve heard of borrowers?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve heard of lots of mythical creatures from books and stuff as a kid. I used to have a book about borrowers. Is that surprising?”

“Only because Lizzie hadn’t heard of us. But to be fair you’re the second human I’ve ever spoken to, so I don’t really have anything else to go on.” Grian was intrigued by the idea of human literature about borrowers. He wondered what they knew. 

Grian ended up spending the rest of the evening picking Joel’s brain about that book, learning what humans know about and correcting what it got wrong. When it got to be late, Lizzie and Joel got ready to head off to bed. Lizzie tried to make sure Grian would have everything he could need for the night. She left the remote next to him in case he wanted to watch some TV. She told him if he needed anything to turn the volume up real high, rather than straining his voice calling for them.

“Is there anything else? Another towel, something to drink? Anything at all?” Lizzie flustered herself trying to exhaust possible problems.

“There is one thing I’m worried about.” Grian hesitated. “It’s just… I had someone coming over tonight.”

Grian invited a guest over on his first day staying here? Lizzie was puzzled. “How did you- oh no of course you mean where you live.”

“Well, you see, that’s the thing. I wasn’t really sure how to bring this up… I kinda… live… here.”

Lizzie paused. “YOU LIVE IN OUR WALLS!?” Grian winced from the volume, and the embarrassment. 

“No, not technically. I live… well, I think it’s under the living room somewhere. I-I do have passageways in some of the walls though, yes.”

Lizzie couldn’t tell how she should feel about this, other than being surprised. Angry, perhaps? “So this whole time! This whole time you already knew this place, huh! I thought I was bringing you into a big strange mysterious place but this is just home-sweet-home!”

“I wouldn’t go that far. I’ve only explored the areas I can borrow from. A lot of this place is really unfamiliar to me, especially lit up like this. I uh, I did already know your names, though.” Grian watched her expression get more flustered and became more embarrassed. “I probably should have said something right away, but I mean, this entire situation has been so bizarre. It’s not like I knew the best thing to do… Does this… change anything? Should I leave?”

That final comment brought Lizzie into clarity, and she calmed down quickly. “No, no, of course not! I still want you to stay here as long as you need to heal. You’re completely welcome here. It’s just- I mean you know that changes everything, right?”

“Does it?” Grian asked. Lizzie paused to think.

“I guess I don’t know.” 

After a chunk of silence, Grian repeated himself. “So, I uh.. I was worried, because I had someone coming over tonight. If I’m not where he expects to find me, he’s gonna get worried, and he’s not gonna know where else to look.” Lizzie agreed that was not ideal and asked how she could help. Grian asked if she had a scrap of paper and something small to write with. She said she didn’t have any small writing utensils. He asked if she had any pencils she could break the tip off of. She brought him a pencil tip and a sticky note. He wrote a message down and folded it up. He instructed her to check behind the TV and down a bit for a hole. She turned the screen so she could squeeze her head through the gap, and spotted the hole in the wall about halfway between the TV stand and the floor. She slipped the note through for Grian’s friend to find. After confirming that Grian wouldn’t need anything else, she turned the lights out and went to bed.

Later that night, Grian was awoken by a rustling noise. He looked over towards the TV stand to see just what he was hoping to find. Mumbo Jumbo was crouched under the screen, scanning the room for Grian. Grian sat up a little, waved his hand in the air, and called out for Mumbo at a normal speaking volume. Mumbo was alarmed, and looked angry. He stepped to the edge of the TV stand and pulled a lever on the contraption he had strapped to his back. Two thin wire and leather wings sprung up and he glided over to where Grian was. 

Mumbo whispered harshly, “Grian! Have you lost your mind!? What are you thinking, setting up camp in the middle of the living room like this? And if you don’t keep your voice down one of the humans might hear you!!”

“Mumbo! Mumbo, calm down! I need to catch you up on what happened to me today.” Grian explained to Mumbo that he was attacked by a cat and Lizzie saved his life. He’s too weak to try and go back home and Lizzie offered to take care of him. He knows they aren’t supposed to trust humans, because they could be deceived, but he doesn’t feel he has enough of a choice to doubt. Besides, Lizzie and Joel seem nice. Mumbo objects as much as he can, but Grian kind of has a point. Mumbo could try to help Grian get out of there, but it wouldn’t be a smooth process. Grian would risk getting even more hurt.

Mumbo asked if there was anything he could do to help. Grian explained to Mumbo about the pain medicine Lizzie gave him, and that it had worn off. Mumbo asked how she could possibly have given him medicine. Even the smallest human pills are too big to swallow and would be a sure overdose for a borrower. Grian looked at him with a puzzled expression. He had no idea how human medicine worked. He explained that she cut a pill and just had him take a pinch. Mumbo told him he’s lucky nothing bad happened and asked him where the medicine was. Grian told him it’s probably still a pile of dust by the kitchen sink. Mumbo glided into the kitchen. It was too far a distance to maintain the altitude needed to land on the counter, so he landed on the floor and pulled a device off his pack. He set the metal rectangular object on the ground and stood on top of it. He positioned himself a certain way to make sure his aim was good and then pressed a button on his pack. The device expanded quickly like a piston, sending Mumbo into the air with a trail of string following behind him. He stuck the landing on the counter and then pulled his device up by the string and reattached it to his pack. 

Once on the counter he pondered the pile of pill dust for a moment before deciding it was useless to him. He climbed into the cabinets and found the paracetamol bottle. He was able to use the instructions and measurements on the label to determine, roughly, what would be an appropriate equivalent dose for a borrower. Looking around he spotted a chocolate bar, too. Little portioned piles of powder are difficult to keep track of, so that’d be useful for sure. Being a resourceful borrower, he was able to find the tools to cut and portion the pills, melt the chocolate, mix the pill powder into it, and cool his home-made borrower-sized paracetamol chocolates. He found a sticky note and wrote down dosage instructions for Grian. He dug a plastic bottle cap out of the trash and cleaned it off so he’d have something to carry the chocolates in. He cleaned everything up and glided back on over to Grian, again using his piston device to reach the end table. Grian was elated to have more medicine, and very impressed at all the effort Mumbo went through to make sure he didn’t overdose. Grian, knowing he’d be here a while and the humans attempts at borrower accommodations were sub optimal, also asked Mumbo to go to his house and retrieve some of his plates and cups. When Mumbo got back, they hung out and chatted for a while longer over a pretzel. They talked into the late hours of the night and ended up dozing off without realizing. 

The next morning, Mumbo awoke suddenly at the sound of footsteps. He looked around in a panic, realizing he had failed to go home last night, and he was now exposed in the sun-lit human living room. He didn’t see any humans around. Hoping they must have just woken up, and not come out yet, he made a dash for the nearest exit. He slipped out without being seen, but as Joel came into the living room he did notice a bit of a rustling noise coming from the TV area. Joel looked down at a still sleeping Grian and noticed a few more items there than there were last night. He picked up the bottle cap to get a closer look at its contents. The text on the attached sticky note was difficult to read because it was so small. He set it down, looked at Grian for another moment, and then took one of Grian’s plates and continued on into the kitchen.

A bit later, Lizzie came into the living room as well. She leaned over Grian to check on him. She gently tried to pull at the towel to get a better look at his bandages. They were very dirty by now and needed to be changed. The tugging at the towel woke Grian up, and the looming figure set his heart racing. He flinched and let out a little scream. 

“It’s just me! It’s just me!” Lizzie reassured him.

“You scared the life out of me!!” He scolded.

She apologized. Joel poked his head in from the kitchen to ask Lizzie if she wanted some breakfast. She did.

“Oh, Grian, you’re up! Wait one second.” Joel went back into the kitchen for a moment and then returned with Grian’s plate. It had two tiny strips of bacon cut from a full strip, a corner of a piece of toast, and a singular baked bean on it. He set it down next to Grian “I made you a plate.”

“Oh my goodness, thank you!” Exclaimed Grian. “Wow, this smells amazing!” This breakfast wasn’t much like anything he had had before. Grian was used to cooking with much smaller ingredients. Baked beans came in a can larger than him. It was hard to borrow meat because you can usually tell when some of it has been taken. So the meat he ate usually came from smaller animals or bugs that he had hunted. The only thing familiar was the toast, although he had only ever had home-made bread. He was trying store-bought bread for the first time. He didn’t think it was as good. After eating, Lizzie put her coat on and waved goodbye to the boys. She was off to work for the day. Joel cleaned up the kitchen and then brought some bandages over to Grian and asked him to lift his shirt.

“Yeah, I figured.” Joel said, “It’s gotten pretty nasty. Let’s get some clean bandages on you, alright?” Joel slowly removed the bandage, cleaned the wound, and wrapped Grian up in fresh cloth. After putting the first aid away, he got his coat on as well. He asked Grian if he’d need anything else while he was gone. Grian said he’d be fine. Joel let him know he worked close by and would try to pop in occasionally to check on him. Joel said goodbye and headed out. His place of work was very close by. Right next door, in fact. He worked as a part-time caretaker for his disabled neighbor. Joel let himself in with his key and called out into the house.

“Good morning, Scar! I’m here!” Scar rolled backwards from his office to poke his head out into the hall and wave.

“Mornin’ Joel!” They continued with small talk as Joel hung up his coat. Scar followed him into the kitchen to chat with him while he started on his tasks. Scar did need the help, but his favorite thing about Joel coming around was just having someone to talk to. He lived alone and it was hard for him to get out of the house. Joel got to a stopping point and excused himself to use the restroom. After doing so, while washing his hands, the medicine cabinet mirror mysteriously swung open and knocked him in the noggin. As he turned the faucet off and reached for the hand towel, he looked up at the open cabinet. To his surprise, standing on the top shelf and leaning against a bottle was a tiny little mustachioed man.

“So, you’re the one watching after Grian.”

“Oh, you must be Mumbo, right? Grian mentioned you, but I didn’t realize you lived here!” Mumbo fumbled his composure. He didn’t expect to be recognized.

“W-well listen up, bud! You better not hurt him, alright? Don’t underestimate me. I can make life very hard for you.” Joel leaned in and spoke a little more quietly.

“Does Scar know about you?” Once again, Mumbo was sweating. 

“No.”

“Wow… You’re being very brave right now.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t even know me and you’ve come to confront me like this? AND you’re trusting me with your secret? I mean, I could just walk out and tell Scar about you right now. And if I don’t, I’m here all the time. I could reveal your secret at any time. It’s respectable, I think. You must really care about Grian.” It was at this time that Mumbo accepted to himself he never really had the high ground at all. He almost felt as if he was getting smaller with every word. None of this was going the way he had planned it in his head. He reached behind a bottle and flipped a lever that activated a contraption that pulled the cabinet door shut. Joel flinched. He reopened the cabinet, but Mumbo was nowhere to be seen. Joel couldn’t figure out how he’d left, either. Mumbo retreated to his house and stayed there for the rest of the day. Joel decided not to mention this encounter to Scar, but he did tell Grian about it. Grian laughed at Mumbo’s expense.

Joel visited Scar several days a week to help with various things around the house. Besides this, Scar didn’t really have all that much social interaction. It was hard for him to leave the house because of all the accessibility accommodations that had to be considered for any trip. There were a few routine places he went. Joel accompanied him on grocery trips, for example. He was the type of person to delay the checkout line because he was chatting with the cashier. At home, he found various activities to keep himself busy. He was a big fan of movies and he liked to play video games. Mumbo, when he first decided to move in below Scar, thought the wheelchair situation would prove to be very convenient for him. It meant there was a lot more of the house that wouldn’t be touched by humans, and therefore more space to play with. This turned out to not so much be the case, because of Joel. 

Mumbo was an engineer. He liked to design various machines to make his life easier. While other borrowers might make do with a human item that was close enough to what they needed, Mumbo preferred to melt down metal and plastic and make exactly what he wanted. He had built a glider he used to get between higher surfaces without having to climb from the ground. And he built a piston device to help him get up to counter tops quickly. This device was a real pain. It was so finicky. Some nights it worked perfectly. Others, it was totally useless. Today, Mumbo was sitting on top of the kitchen cabinets behind a couple of decorative plants. He had several spots like this where he liked to tinker and watch Scar. Often, Scar wouldn’t even be doing anything interesting. He just found it easier to focus with him in the room. Scar was organizing his medicine at the time. Mumbo was trying to disassemble the device, planning to start from scratch with a new blueprint. His grip slipped and the device burst open with explosive force. The platform launched right into Mumbo’s gut and sent him backwards forcefully. He was flung off the cabinet top and right into the center of the kitchen, but unexpectedly stopped short of the floor. He sat stiff, frozen, staring wide eyed back at what stopped him. He has been caught on Scar’s extended hand. Had Scar not reacted so quickly, Mumbo would probably have been injured by the fall onto the tile floor. Scar was panting a little bit and had a very earnest worried expression on his face. 

“Are you okay?” Mumbo didn’t say anything. Scar waited for a bit. He could see how scared Mumbo was, and he knew this wasn’t supposed to happen, so he gave him a minute to answer. But after a long pause, he still hadn’t said anything.

“Hello?? D-did you break something? Are you okay?? Say something!”

“Y-yeah….” Mumbo could only slowly squeeze out the one word. Scar sighed with relief. He set Mumbo down on the table in front of him. The two of them were locked in eye contact. Mumbo’s brain was racing. He was trying to think if there was any reasonable escape. He was a bit stranded on the table. He didn’t figure he could get away fast enough from here. He wasn’t even wearing any of his borrowing equipment.

“W-w-what are you going to do with me?”

“What? I’m not gonna do anything to you! What would I even do??”

“B-but… you found me. In your house. Borrowers aren’t supposed to be found. I- I can’t just go back like nothing happened…” Scar looked down and let out a heavy sigh. He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck.

“Listen,” He couldn’t make eye contact. “I kinda… already knew about you?”

Dumbfounded, Mumbo spat back, “...what?”

“I’ve known for a long time. Probably the whole time.”

Mumbo could not believe his ears, “And you never said anything!?”

Scar was becoming flustered, “W-well you seemed like you were trying really hard to be sneaky and I didn’t wanna ruin it for you!” Mumbo was mortified. This whole time. This whole time he had been a complete failure of a borrower and somehow managed to end up with a human who didn’t say anything because he didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He wondered how many times he had been seen. When he thought he was completely out of view atop shelves, was he actually exposed? Could Scar hear him running through the walls? Could Scar hear him working on his machines?

“I’m really sorry,” Scar continued, “You clearly didn’t want to be seen so I did my best not to bother you. A-and that doesn’t have to change now. You’ve never been a bother or anything. You’re totally free to keep doing your thing. I promise I’ll leave you totally alone.”

Mumbo was looking down at his shoes, still trying to process the lie of the last several years of his life. Without looking up, he said, “I can’t leave from here.”

Scar looked at the height of the table. “Oh, right. Uhm. I can’t reach the spot you were in, but I can put you over by the toaster. There’s a hole there, right? Will that work?” Mumbo clenched his fists. Scar even knew about one of his entrances.

“That’s fine.” Scar offered his hand, and Mumbo reluctantly climbed onto it. Scar carefully rolled over to the toaster and placed his hand down next to it. Mumbo leapt off and left without another word. 

The following weeks in that house were very awkward for the both of them. Anytime Scar saw Mumbo, he wasn’t sure if he still needed to uphold the habit of pretending he hadn’t seen anything. This caused a delay in his reactions, which made it more clear to Mumbo when he was seen, and just how often it happened. One day, Scar was pawing at a cabinet shelf for some formula. He had forgotten to ask Joel to move them forward while he was there. The rest were all closer to the back of the cabinet and he couldn’t quite reach them, or even see them from his chair. Mumbo happened to be working on something on top of the cabinets at the time. He was sitting right up against the wall, further back than normal, to better avoid being seen. He could hear Scar struggling. He sighed, set his device down, got up, and made his way to the cabinet entrance. Sure enough, the entrance was almost totally blocked by formula cartons almost as tall as him. He leaned against one and pushed it forward until Scar could reach. 

“Oh, thank you!” Scar was surprised to see Mumbo intentionally interacting with him, even if in a hidden capacity. Mumbo didn’t reply. He was walking back toward the back of the cabinet to move another carton when Scar, still feeling blindly around, accidentally grabbed him. They both flinched and Scar yanked his hand back out of the cabinet.

“Sorry!” Scar shouted. Mumbo didn’t reply. Scar still needed a few more cartons of formula, but he went ahead and started pouring the first one into the bag before getting more. He tried to pour slowly. When he was sure he didn’t hear any more rustling in the cabinet, he reached back up and got the rest of what he needed.

Another week went by with the two trying to avoid acknowledging each other, tension growing. Mumbo was on a credenza in the hall, standing behind a vase. He tripped and stumbled backwards into it, knocking it over. He and the vase both tumbled onto the floor. The vase had landed upside-down on top of him. He tried to lift it, but it was too heavy. He tried to tip it, but the shape made it impossible to get any leverage. If he had some tools on him he could think of a few ways to get out of this. But he didn’t. Stumped, he tried to sit down to think. He couldn’t even do that, because the narrow neck of the vase prevented him from bending his knees very far. It crossed his mind that, as unfavorable as it was, he did have one option. And it was probably his best bet at the moment.

“Scaaar…” Mumbo called out weakly. Scar rolled into the hall.

“Mumbo? Was that you? Am I hearing things? Where are you?” Mumbo was apprehensive to answer. Scar began to roll down the hall when he noticed the vase and its contents, some plastic reeds, scattered on the floor. “Ah,” He said to himself. He rolled beside the vase and gently tipped it up. As soon as there was a gap big enough to squeeze out, Mumbo made a break for it. He ran away desperately, looking behind him to make sure he wasn’t being pursued. In his haste and carelessness he ran right into the reeds and got tangled in their leaves. After several seconds of struggling while Scar watched patiently, Mumbo freed himself and kept running, this time watching where he was going.

The next day Scar was sitting at his computer, reading, when he heard Mumbo’s voice come from behind him.

“Scar?” Scar turned and looked around the room until he spotted Mumbo sitting atop a floating shelf. Specifically one that was too high for Scar to reach.

“Yesterday, when you helped me, you said my name, didn’t you?” Mumbo asked.

Scar was confused. “Did I? I can’t remember exactly what I said, why?”

Mumbo pressed, “When we first spoke, we didn’t tell each other our names, did we?”

Scar was starting to catch on. “That doesn’t sound right. I’m sure you introduced yourself!”

“I already knew your name because I hear you and Joel speaking all the time. But I’m sure I never told you my name.”

“I think you’re misremembering…” The both of them were starting to get flustered.

“Scar, I was just curious. It’s worse that you’re obviously trying to hide something. How did you know my name?”

“W-what was your name again anyway? I can’t seem to recall…”

“Come on, I’ve broken my rule to come out and ask you this.” Mumbo insisted. Scar sighed. Mumbo was right. As much as he hated disappointing Mumbo, he deserved a straight answer.

“Sometimes… when Grian comes over, I can hear you two talking. Not entire conversations or anything! It’s muffled. But enough to pick up your name.”

Mumbo dropped his face into his hand. “And Grian’s.”

“Yeah.”

Mumbo let out a heavy sigh. “Okay. Thanks.” He turned around and slipped back out of sight. Scar felt bad about revealing another harsh truth to Mumbo, but he was also a little excited. This was the second conversation he had ever had with Mumbo, and Mumbo was the one who initiated it! As much as he didn’t want to bother Mumbo, he had always wished they would become friends one day.

A few days later, Scar was at his computer again when Mumbo made his boldest move yet. He glided down towards Scar and landed on a push handle behind his head. Scar jumped when he sensed the presence. He was only able to turn his head far enough to see Mumbo out the side of one eye.

“Well, hello there!” Scar said, bewildered. “You’re awfully close all of a sudden!”

“It’s fine.” Mumbo said, “I know exactly what I’m doing. I know my reflexes are faster than your reach. I can get away from here faster than you can try anything.” He had planned it out in his head. If Scar tried to reach for him, he would hop off the back and glide straight for a mouse hole across the room. He was confident he was in no danger at all. Scar raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, really?” He found Mumbo’s overconfidence cute, and was instinctively motivated to undermine it. “Well, what if someone came from BEHIND YOU!!” Scar shouted quickly, gesturing to behind Mumbo, who flinched and looked where Scar gestured. With his guard down, Scar reached up and grabbed Mumbo off the handle. He yelped. Scar only held him for a second and set him right back down, laughing all the while.

“I’m sorry, I had to!” He chuckled. Mumbo stumbled to regain his balance, then pushed off the handle towards the mouse hole. Scar’s expression dropped. Mumbo’s glider failed to catch air properly and he hit the ground, landing very short of his goal. Scar’s expression changed to fear and he started to turn his chair around.

“Are you okay!?” He called out. Mumbo didn’t reply. He was desperately skittering across the floor, trying to scrape his way out of sight as soon as possible. Scar tried to stop him, but couldn’t catch up before he disappeared behind the drywall. Scar sank. He laid a longing hand against the wall and pounded his forehead against it a couple of times.

“Stupid.”

He should have known better. Mumbo was finally gaining enough confidence to try getting close to him and the first thing he did was take advantage of him. Stupid.

Scar didn’t hear anything from Mumbo for a few days. Whenever Joel wasn’t around, he’d announce to the air how sorry he was. He’d write little apology notes and leave them by Mumbo’s access holes. He wrote about how bad he felt and why what he did was wrong. How he promised not to let it happen again. And about how much he’d like to see Mumbo again. Any time he went to check, the notes were untouched. And any time he called out, there was no response. After several days of no trace, Scar called out saying that he was starting to get really worried that something had happened to Mumbo. He asked that Mumbo would please just give him a sign that he was okay. The truth was Mumbo had heard every plea and read every message. Unfortunately, no matter what Scar said, what happened reinforced what Mumbo had always been taught. No matter how nice they seem, humans are dangerous, and they’re not to be trusted. Mumbo was inside the office wall. He still found it easier to work near Scar, but he couldn’t risk being close enough to be heard or seen. Mumbo sighed. He stepped toward the entrance to a shelf, carefully looking out to make sure he wouldn’t be seen. If anything, this whole situation had done a lot to improve his borrowing skills. He reached his arm out toward a thin book on the shelf and nudged it until it fell off. Scar whipped his head around to see the source of the noise. He had hoped to find Mumbo, but just a sign that he wasn’t dead was still a whole lot better than nothing.

That night, Mumbo went to visit Grian. Grian’s condition had improved a lot over the past few weeks. He was slow, but he could walk now. He still spent most of his time on that living room end table. Mumbo waited until Scar, Lizzie, and Joel had all gone to sleep and made his way over. After some hellos and small talk, Mumbo explained to Grian what had happened. He told Grian about how it reinforced what they had always been taught.

“I had to learn it first hand. No matter how nice they seem, humans are dangerous, and they’re not to be trusted.”

“Well, that’s a load of rubbish.” Grian scoffed. Mumbo was taken aback.

“How can you say that after what I just told you?” Mumbo sputtered.

“Oh, come on. You say that like something terrible happened. You got grabbed. For a second. As a joke. Are you even hurt or anything?”

“W-well, n-no.” Mumbo was indignant, but he wondered if Grian had a point.

“Then I don’t see what the big deal is. Take it from someone who’s been at the mercy of humans for weeks against his will. Yeah, they’re big and scary, but they mean really well. If Joel or Lizzie actually hurt me I’m pretty sure they’d implode. One time Lizzie accidentally poked my rib while redoing my bandages and it made me wince and she apologized like a HUNDRED times! I kept telling her I was fine! … My point being, I didn’t want to come here, but when I’m all better, I don’t plan on leaving.”

Mumbo was having a hard time trying to keep that nice idea from breaking through the hard shell he’d put up. It could be a fluke. Just because Grian trusted Joel and Lizzie didn’t automatically mean Mumbo should trust Scar. But looking at everything, it was getting harder to justify not trusting him.

The next day, Scar was at his computer again, playing a game. Mumbo was standing at the edge of the shelf entrance. This shelf was the last safe place he had spoken to Scar. The last place he had been where nothing went wrong. He took a deep breath and stepped out onto the shelf. He looked down at Scar’s monitor, trying to figure out what exactly he was looking at. He took a deep breath, and looked at Scar.

“Hey, Scar.” Mumbo practically mumbled. Scar quickly tapped the escape key and his eyes darted around the room until he found him.

“Mumbo! You’re back!” Scar tried to contain his excitement. He was elated and relieved, but he couldn’t scare Mumbo off again.

“Yeah. I just… needed some time to think. Uh.. whatcha doin there?” Scar turned to look at his game. It had been only moments, but he was so caught up in Mumbo’s return he had already forgotten.

“Oh, I was just playing Minecraft. Do you… know what computer games are?”

“Sort of. I mean, I’ve seen you do this from a distance, but I don’t really get what it is.” Scar explained to him the gist of how video games work and told him about how Minecraft is a sandbox game where you can do all sorts of different things depending on your play style. Building stunning buildings, farming hours away, fighting enemies, or even building complex machines. The machines part really piqued Mumbo’s interest. They set off into a more relaxed, naturally flowing conversation. They both felt like they were finally, for the first time, having a good interaction. Until Scar started to struggle to get his words out. Within minutes, he started to cough and choke so frequently he couldn’t finish a sentence.

“Mate, are you alright?” Mumbo worried. Scar couldn’t answer, and his face was turning pale. Mumbo was panicking. “Scar!? What’s happening? What should I do??”” Scar tried to pick up his phone, but his hands were shaking. Without stopping to think if it was safe, Mumbo jumped off the shelf and glided to Scar’s desk. He pressed the button on the side of the phone and saw it needed to be unlocked. He had seen Scar do this before with his thumb print. He looked back at Scar. Scar was fading. Mumbo reached for his hand, which was still on the desk, and pulled his thumb over to unlock the phone. He opened the phone app and tapped the first name he recognized: Joel. When he heard Joel pick up he didn’t even wait for him to get out a hello.

“JOEL SCAR’S NOT BREATHING I THINK HE PASSED OUT WHAT DO I DO I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO PLEASE”

“I’m on my way.” Joel hung up the phone and showed up within the minute. When he came inside he was already on the phone with the emergency services operator. Mumbo stood back and watched him as he explained the situation and checked on Scar’s condition, seeing if there was anything he could do before the ambulance arrived. Mumbo’s own heart was pounding so loud it practically drowned out the hasty noise of the room.

“Yes. Yes I’ll stay on the line. One second.” Joel turned to Mumbo. “You did the right thing calling me. The paramedics are on their way, you should go hide.”

“B-but, i-is Scar g-going to-”

“Seriously, they’ll be here any minute! Go!” Mumbo hurried off behind the desk and found a nearby hole to scurry off into. He positioned himself at an opening near the ground where he was sure he wouldn’t be spotted. He was terrified to the core, and he had to see what was going to happen. The paramedics came pouring in. Faster than Mumbo could even process, they had Scar loaded into the back of the ambulance and were on their way. Joel followed directly behind with Scar’s wheelchair and some essentials. Before Mumbo could even get a grip on the situation, he was sitting alone in a vast empty house, and it had never felt so soul crushingly lonely.

A while later, Lizzie came home from work. She asked Grian where Joel was and he told her he had stepped out a few hours ago because of a phone call and never came back. Lizzie called Joel and, after apologizing for not calling sooner, he explained what happened and that he was at the hospital with Scar. Scar was stable, but he wasn’t going to be ready to be discharged for a good while. Lizzie asked him to come home but he insisted on staying in case anything changed with Scar.

“It’s getting late. If it’s this serious his family should come stay with him.” Lizzie reasoned.

“He hasn’t got any family close by and he doesn’t deserve to be alone. I think I’m gonna end up spending the night here.”

“Joel, no! Then you’ll just be leaving me alone!”

Joel smirked. “Don’t you think you can share me for just one night?” Lizzie rubbed her brow.

Lizzie realized something, “Wait, you said Grian’s friend Mumbo was the one who called you? Where’s he now?”

“He’s still at the house. Where else would he be?” Joel said.

“He’s not with you?” Lizzie asked.

“What? No! Why would I have taken him with me?”

“Because he’s obviously worried about Scar? Tell me you at least have a way to contact him and he hasn’t just been in the dark since you left!” Lizzie pleaded.

“That was not the most pressing thing on my mind at the time, Lizzie.”

Lizzie sighed. “Fine, then. It’s decided. You watch after Scar, and we’ll watch after Mumbo. I’ll see you in the morning. I love you.”

“Love you.”

Lizzie sat down next to Grian and asked him how much of that he caught. He said he caught the gist of it and asked what she had in mind for Mumbo. She said she wasn’t sure yet. She was going to play it by ear. She said she’d probably need some help, if he was up for it. She offered her hand and he climbed on. She hadn’t taken her coat or shoes off yet, so she headed right out the door. She held Grian close to her as she walked, keeping him inconspicuously tucked partially behind her coat in case there were any passersby. She walked up to Scar’s door and tried the knob. She shook her head. Joel had carelessly left it unlocked. She gingerly stepped inside and shut the door behind her. She softly called out for Mumbo. No response. Grian pointed out the credenza and asked her to bring him there. She set him down and he swung open the door there made to look like an outlet cover and stepped inside. Grian hadn’t traversed a wall corridor in a while and he forgot how treacherous some of them can be. They’re spaces for passage only, not meant to be stayed in. They can be a bit difficult to traverse. Grian thought he’d at least check Mumbo’s house. This was the closest entrance to it. He carefully climbed down the staircase and looked around the rooms. No Mumbo to be found. He climbed back up and reported back to Lizzie. He suggested they try checking out some of Mumbo’s other favorite spots. He admitted he didn’t know all of Mumbo’s entrances, but hopefully he knew enough of the important ones. Lizzie tip-toed down the hall while Grian called out for Mumbo. After a couple of calls they heard a weak reply coming from the office.

“Grian?”

Lizzie stepped up to the edge of the doorway and knelt down to let Grian go in on his own. Grian limped over to Mumbo, who saw Grian and stepped out of his hole to meet him halfway.

“How in the world did you get here all by yourself? And what are you doing out in the open, those doctors could be back at any minute!” Mumbo asked.

“It’s okay, Mumbo, no one is coming!” Grian reassured him.

“Don’t say that! You don’t know that!” Mumbo snapped back. Grian realized how what he said sounded.

“Mumbo, Lizzie brought me here to tell you that Scar is going to be okay. He’s in the hospital. He’s breathing.” Mumbo stepped back and let out the biggest sigh he had ever sighed.

Grian continued, “Joel told Lizzie more about his condition. I just kind of overheard the gist. Joel is gonna stay with him until he’s well enough to come home.”

“He’s not coming home yet? Why?”

“Like I said, Lizzie knows more than I do.”

“Well then go ask Lizzie already!” Mumbo pleaded.

“Why don’t you go ask her yourself? She’s just waiting out in the hall.” Grian offered.

“Grian. So far, every time I’ve spoken to a human something terribly wrong has happened.” Mumbo moped. Grian put his hand on Mumbo’s back, pressing him in the direction of the door.

“No, every time you’ve spoken to Scar! You’ve never spoken to Lizzie before! I’ve spoken to her lots of times and nothing bad has ever happened. You should give it a whirl!” Grian was admittedly growing impatient about Mumbo’s apprehension towards humans. He strained his injured muscles a little giving Mumbo a shove that sent him a few more steps towards the door. Lizzie piped up from the hall. 

“You don’t actually have to come out here right now, if that makes it easier.” Grian was a little annoyed. She was kind of undermining him. Mumbo was slightly alarmed. He hadn’t realized how close she was. But, if anything, knowing how far he had come without realizing only gave him the confidence to close the gap. He started forward. The moment she came into view and he perceived her stature he did an instant 180 back into the office.

“What was that?” Complained Grian. It was the realization that for the handful of times Mumbo had spoken to humans in the past, it had been at eye level or higher. He was not prepared to address a human from the ground.

“Just. Wait here. I’ll be right back.” Mumbo said before heading back into the wall. A minute later he reappeared on his floating shelf. It was far out of reach for Scar, but just noticeably above eye level for Lizzie. He invited her into the room.

“Oh, there you are! It’s nice to finally meet you!” Lizzie beamed.

“Why isn’t Scar coming home?” Mumbo asked.

“Right. That. So I didn’t get a lot of details from Joel, and I don’t understand a lot of this medical mumbo jumbo anyw- haha hey, Mumbo Jumbo!”

Grian glared, “Lizzie, come on.”

“Right right yeah, sorry. From what I understand, Scar’s condition is stable. Meaning he’s not completely better, he’s still relying on a lot of medical equipment, but he’s not getting any worse or dying or anything like that. I forget what Joel said the thing was called, but I think it boiled down to him getting over excited at the same time that his heart was doing something funky. That sounds even less informative now that I say it all out loud, but that’s about everything I was able to gather. Sorry.”

“Thank you.” Mumbo said. He tried to think of something more to say, but all he mustered was a second, “Thank you.” Lizzie knelt down and picked Grian up off the floor.

“Mumbo, come stay with us tonight.” Grian offered. “You shouldn’t be alone on a night like this. I insist.” Mumbo tried to think of a reason to say no, but couldn’t come up with one. He couldn’t come up with much at all. He was distracted still thinking about what he did to Scar.

“Okay.”

“Oh, really? I expected that to take some convincing. Okay, great! Uh, would you prefer to come over yourself the usual way, or I’m sure Lizzie wouldn’t mind carrying you. It’d be much faster. You probably don’t want to do that though, huh?”

“I don’t mind at all!” Lizzie added. Mumbo closed his eyes. 

“Yeah, I probably ought to go with you.” Mumbo admitted.

“Wait, really?” Grian said.

“You clearly want me to get more comfortable with humans. And I trust you. So yeah. I’ll do it.” Mumbo was pretty certain that if there wasn’t an active crisis taking up all his brainspace, he’d have the wherewithal to deny Grian. Lizzie held her hand up against the edge of the shelf. Mumbo first looked at Grian, as if to take note of how to do it, and then carefully climbed onto her hand. Lizzie made her way slowly and carefully to the front door and then stopped.

“I didn’t think this through. I don’t have a free hand to open this door or a key to lock it.” Lizzie admitted. Grian looked at Mumbo, who was usually the problem solver, but he just looked defeated. 

“Mumbo,” Grian asked, “are you able to lock this door yourself from the inside?” Mumbo looked up at the mechanism to evaluate it and compared its height to the ground.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“I really appreciate your efforts, Mumbo. But I think the best solution here is for you to lock the door behind us and just meet us there.” Mumbo accepted and Lizzie set him on the doorknob before stepping out and shutting the door behind her. Mumbo turned the lock and glided down to find a way into the wall and make his way next door. A few minutes later he squirmed out from behind the TV and glided over to Grian, who was already settled into his usual spot. Lizzie came into the room and greeted Mumbo with some accommodations for him. She got some extra hand towels so he could set up a little bed as well. Grian and Lizzie made it their goal to get Mumbo’s mind off Scar for the night, since worrying about him wasn’t helping anyone. They chatted about all sorts of things, getting to know each other. Grian was relieved that Mumbo got on pretty well with Lizzie. He was visibly nervous the whole time and flinched every time she moved very much, but he was trying his best. Grian figured it was just a matter of time before Mumbo adjusted and got as comfortable as he had. After a bit, Grian said he needed to use the toilet. Lizzie scooped him up and brought him to the bathroom floor. He ducked under the sink cabinet and disappeared into it. He had a restroom in the wall back there piggybacking off the plumbing of the humans’ one. While waiting, Lizzie walked back near the end table to keep chatting with Mumbo. He cowered as she towered over him. She chuckled, which made Mumbo feel worse. She thought about how different he was to Grian. She figured when she first met Grian, he must have been scared for his life, but he didn’t express it so pathetically. 

“What are you so afraid of?” She asked. Mumbo wasn’t sure how to answer. She scooped him up in her palm and brought him to eye level. Mumbo hated the feeling of her hand supporting him. He felt incredibly awkward and terrified.

“I’m not going to hurt you, little guy.” She failed to hide a smirk. She thought she’d tease him, just a little, and maybe the rapport would ease tensions. “It’s fair enough, you know. I could totally do anything I wanted, and Grian’s not even here to help. I wonder, what exactly is it  you’re scared I’m going to do?”

“LIZZIE!” Grian’s voice shattered the growing suspense in the room. “What are you doing!?” Lizzie whipped around to see Grian standing in the bathroom doorway with a stern expression on his face. 

“Grian! You missed the context! It was just a joke!” Lizzie explained in a panic. Grian wasn’t having it. He could see the look on Mumbo’s face.

“Not funny. Put him down. Now.” Lizzie hastily set Mumbo back down and then helped Grian back onto the table before taking a seat herself.

Grian worriedly asked Mumbo, “I’m so sorry about that. Are you alright?” Mumbo was very not alright. A lot had happened today and he was having a hard enough time as it was without Lizzie intentionally messing with him. Even so, he could recognize that Lizzie’s joke, despite being in poor taste, was just meant to be a joke. And he could clearly see from her expression that she was embarrassed.

“I-it’s fine. I’m fine.” Mumbo lied. He brushed Grian aside and stepped closer to Lizzie. “The truth is, I really do want to get more comfortable with this. I want to be able to talk to Scar without it sending my heart racing. But it’s still new to me and every time I look up at you or see a hand coming at me, my reflexes kick in and I go into panic mode. If anything, this is like, exposure therapy, or something. I think it’s good for me.”

“Yeah, gonna expose you to a heart attack.” quipped Grian.

“Hey, you didn’t stutter at all during that.” Lizzie pointed out.

“I-I didn’t?” Mumbo hadn’t even noticed. “Ha ha! I guess the exposure therapy really is working!”

Grian interjected, “That’s great and all, but I am genuinely worried about you getting overwhelmed, Mumbo. Lizzie, hanging out like this is fine, but you have to remember the rules.”

“The rules?” Mumbo asked.

“When I started to get well enough to walk again, Lizzie started letting herself get a little… grabby. We had to set up some boundaries. Mainly she’s not allowed to pick me up without asking.” Grian turned to Lizzie, “Those same rules apply to Mumbo, too, okay?”

“Yeah, that’s reasonable. I’m sorry, Mumbo. We’re still good, right?” Lizzie held out a finger toward Mumbo. He stepped back and just looked at it, holding his hands up defensively.

“It’s supposed to be a handshake.” Lizzie clarified. Mumbo took a deep breath and slowly reached forward to shake her finger.

“Yeah.” He said, “We’re good.”

Shortly afterward Lizzie retired to bed. Grian told Mumbo that if he was willing to help him through the corridors, they could stay in his house that night. There were a couple of actual beds there, where it would be more comfortable. Mumbo agreed. Grian was excited, because it had been weeks since he had been able to sleep in a real bed. The two carefully navigated to Grian’s house. Grian almost seemed to have magically healed faster, the way he was moving about the place. He was just so excited to be back in the comfort of his own home again. He got out clean linens and prepared the guest room for Mumbo without much trouble. Soon, the two were off to sleep. This was the best sleep Grian had gotten in weeks. It was not so much the case for Mumbo.

Mumbo dreamt that he was back in Scar’s house, standing in the middle of the hallway. Scar rolled into the hallway and turned to face Mumbo.

“There you are.” said dream Scar in a haunting distorted voice. He started towards Mumbo, who made a beeline for the nearest hole in the wall. No matter how fast he ran, he didn’t seem to be getting any closer, and Scar was steadily gaining. Mumbo was stopped in his tracks by Scar’s fingers closing tightly around him and raising him up off the ground. Mumbo writhed and wriggled until he could get his arms free. He tried to rip the massive fingers off himself, but they wouldn’t budge. Dream Scar reached for Mumbo’s face with his other hand, grabbing him by the cheeks and positioning his head forcefully. Dream Scar’s grip on Mumbo's face tightened and tightened until, suddenly, Mumbo woke up. 

Panting and sweating, he bolted upright. He looked over at the watch mounted to the wall. A quarter after three. Still catching his breath, he laid back down. He held his hand out in front of himself and looked at it. There was something about hands. He tilted his hand away and remembered shaking Lizzie’s hand. Well, shaking her finger. The whole night had a theme of ignoring how scared he was. He had hoped if he kept pushing past it, eventually, it wouldn’t be scary anymore. He closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

A few hours later, a loud crash woke Mumbo suddenly. He jumped out of bed and ran out of the room to investigate. He ran into the kitchen and saw Grian standing there clutching a couple of pans, with about five more still settling on the floor.

“Are you alright?” Mumbo asked.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to wake you. I was trying to be quiet but I dropped some pans.” Grian explained.

Mumbo sighed and went to help Grian clean up. Grian was scrounging around for something to make for breakfast. It had been a while since he had cooked and he was still excited about being back in the comfort and amenities of his own home. Mumbo insisted Grian sit and let him do the work. They chatted as Mumbo started picking through Grian’s pantry, tossing out things that had gone bad while he was away. Then, they heard a muffled voice shout from above.

“Grian! Where are you? Can you hear me?” Lizzie called from the living room. Mumbo and Grian looked at each other.

“Yeah?” Grian called back. It felt a bit wrong to be so loud in his house. They heard a shuffling. The ceiling creaked and a little dust spilled down. Lizzie’s voice was closer now.

“I’m headed out for groceries. Did you want me to get you anything?” She asked. Grian thought for a moment.

“A pretzel?” He asked.

“Pretzels. Got it. I’ll be back in a bit!” She headed off. Grian and Mumbo chuckled about the strangeness of the interaction and got back to chatting. Mumbo managed to scrape together enough food to have a bit of a disappointing breakfast. Grian was still pleased at the familiarity of the taste. He liked human food, but it was a pretty different flavor palate from what he was used to. They cleaned up and got dressed, then ventured back upstairs to meet Lizzie when she came back home. They slowly made their way through the corridors. As they neared the kitchen, they heard Lizzie come inside. Good timing. Mumbo pulled back the kitchen tile and crawled through, then helped Grian through behind him. As they walked out from behind the sugar jar, Lizzie had just finished putting the food away and was going to stow her shopping bags. She turned around and jumped at the unexpected sight of Grian and Mumbo standing there to greet her. She popped open the bag of pretzels she had just bought and handed one to Grian. He snapped it in half and offered the other half to Mumbo. Lizzie put the bag away and told Mumbo that Joel called her while she was at the shop. She told him that Joel said Scar would be coming home sometime today. She clarified that he didn’t have to go right away, and if he wanted to he was welcome to stay with them until Scar arrived so he wouldn’t have to be alone.

“No,” Mumbo said with haste, “I want to be there when he gets back. Thank you so much for everything, really. I have to go.” He set his pretzel half down and scurried back into the wall without paying much attention to Grian and Lizzie bidding him goodbye. He had been kept in suspense for so long. He couldn’t bear it. He had to see Scar as soon as he possibly could. He got back home and climbed onto that credenza in the hall by the front door. Time passed painfully slowly. And yet Mumbo spent two more hours sitting still as a rock, eyes locked on that door. Mind spinning.

Finally, he heard the sound of car doors on the street outside, and familiar voices. Sure enough, the door opened and Joel pushed Scar inside. Scar looked the way he usually did after longer hospital visits. He still had the hospital wristband on. He looked noticeably tired from the stress, but, most importantly, healthier. As the door shut, Mumbo stood up and shouted.

“Scar!” 

Scar and Joel both looked at Mumbo and froze. Neither of them knew what to do. Scar wondered if Mumbo had somehow not seen Joel standing behind him. He awkwardly tried to discreetly point Joel out. Joel wondered if Mumbo had finally gotten up the confidence to introduce himself to Scar, or if he had just gone insane.

Joel tried to play along, “OH MY DAYS, IT’S A TINY MAN!”

“He knows. You both know.” Mumbo clarified. Scar and Joel looked at each other. This only raised more questions for the two of them. The most present one for both being ‘since when?’

Mumbo continued, “Scar, I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t know-”

Scar cut him off, “What are you talking about? What did you do?” Mumbo looked at him with the biggest, saddest eyes.

“They told me your heart got sick because you were over excited. I-It happened when I came to speak to you…” Mumbo explained. Scar finally put it together.

“You think this was your fault?”

“Isn’t it?” Mumbo sniffled. Scar rolled a little closer, being careful to maintain a certain distance.

“No, Mumbo. You’re not the reason I got sick. I promise. In fact, if you weren’t there to call for help, I probably wouldn’t be here right now. You saved my life.” Scar reassured him. Mumbo stared at his shoes, processing. He looked back up at Scar.

“Really?”

“Definitely.” There was another pause before Mumbo accepted this truth.

“Can I see your hand?” Mumbo asked without making eye contact. Scar held up his right hand.

“This hand?” He asked.

“Doesn’t matter.” Scar rolled closer to the table. Mumbo stepped back to make room and Scar laid his hand down in front of him. Mumbo put his hands around the tip of Scar’s index finger. He had been overwhelmed by emotion since yesterday. He realized that he wasn’t fully sure what he was doing. Maybe this was like a hug? Whatever it was, he just knew he needed it.

“I’m really glad you’re okay.” Mumbo said. Scar smiled.

[thoughtswordsandnonsense]

Hi! Could you write a story where the reader and Azriel are on a mission and the reader gets hurt and Azriel takes care of her? Thank you!

Hi, thank you so much for the request! Sorry it took me so long to get to it. Trigger warning for blood & violence! This is the first time in a long time that I've written a reader insert so I'm sorry if it's not good.

It was supposed to be a simple mission that shouldn’t take nearly as long as it has. You and Azriel had been asked to interrogate the High Lord of the Autumn, Lord Beron. Rhysand was hesitant to send you, his little sister, but thought sending Azriel with you as your guard would help keep things from getting messy. 

You had arrived in the Autumn court three days ago and had promptly been ignored by the Autumn King himself who happened to be too busy to see to you. Your room was promptly changed on the third night. “No, she’s to stay with me,” Azriel argued with the guards, putting you behind him as his gloved hand inched toward his knife. “She’s to be moved under the King's orders. If you want to speak with him any time soon I recommend backing down.” The taller of the guards spoke. Lifting your hand, you gently place it on Azriel's leather-clad arm and his sharp gaze lands on you. “I’ll be okay Az, the sooner we can speak with Beron the sooner we can go home. I can handle myself, you know that.” He takes a few deep breaths before looking you in the eye a gloved hand coming to cradle your face. “Be careful.” He whispers, low enough for only you to hear. “I’ll be safe.” You assure him and his hand drops as he moves away from you. Promptly you step in front of Azriel and nod to the guards, they flank you and lead you to your new room. You knew Az sent his shadows to follow as they circled your ankles like excited puppies. Once the guards let you to your room his shadows fell back and you promptly changed into a thin red nightgown and went to sleep. 

It was still dark when your door creaked open, eyes shooting open as you fought the drowsiness of sleep, two large figures approached your bed as you sat upright, “What are you doing?” You croak out as one of them pulls you from your bed, cold hands encircling your left upper arm as your bare feet hit the chilled floor. Your nightgown hardly reaches your mid-thigh providing no warmth at all to the now freezing room. “You’ll be coming with us.” The guard on your spits at you as the other guard comes to your right and grips your other arm, dragging you through the halls as you thrash, though their grip only tightens. They’d leave your upper arms bruised for the days to come. You cuss and try to draw attention to yourself, hoping somehow Azriel can hear you but one of the guards clamps a hand over your mouth, seeming thoroughly annoyed with how much of a fight you’re giving them. The slight chill down your back let you know Azriel's shadows had started following you providing a small comfort until suddenly they were no longer there. 

It feels like forever that they drag you down hallway after hallway, down flights of stairs until you’re finally dropped knees first onto cobblestone flooring, causing a bite of pain in both legs. You push yourself upright and onto your feet and access the new area, cells line both sides and there are a few torches lit around you, providing a small amount of light as the door behind you shuts with a loud bang. The guards who were carrying you step in front of the door, seemingly the only exit to the chilled dungeon.

“You and I need to have a little chat,” Beron says, leaning up against a stone pillar not even a few steps away from you. “I intended to speak with you in the morning.” You spit and he chuckles. “Yes well, I’m not too fond of your pesky little Shadow Singer so now is when will talk darling.” He strides over to you, his hand sliding under your chin to force you to look up at his menacing eyes. His hands are warm on your chin as he grips it more tightly. “Why has Rhysand sent you both to my kingdom yet again? I’ve specifically said only you were to come if he insisted on having me questioned.” “My High Lord wanted Azriel with me, he felt like a solo mission to see you was a bad idea. Considering the last time someone from our court came here alone they came back a step away from death's door.” He scoffs as he releases your face, taking a step back as you wrap your arms around yourself tightly to fight the cold seeping into your bones. “Maybe your High Lord should stop insulting me and listen to instructions when I tell him who to send or who is allowed to enter my kingdom.” He shrugs, looking indifferent as you back away from him trying to get as much distance between yourself and Beron as possible without getting too close to his guards. He smirks as he watches your cautious movements, he moves and grabs two wooden chairs putting them in front of each other with little space in between. He sits in one and ushers a lazed hand to the other, “Come sit and we can discuss whatever nonsense your precious High Lord would like to accuse me of this time.” You shake your head no and he rolls his eyes. He waves a hand and one of the guards moves, you try and move away from the guard but he gains on you easily, pinning your arms to the small of your back and roughly guiding you into the chair. Only letting go so he can force you down by your shoulders, another bite of pain lances from your neck and down into your arms as you sit. His rough hands don’t leave your shoulders as Beron starts again. “What does Rhysand want now?” Your jaw clenches as you glare at him. “Your soldiers have been spotted on our border repeatedly in the past few weeks. Why are they there?” “Simple training exercise dear. Had he bothered to open the letter I sent he would’ve known that.” “He did respond, he told you to and I quote ‘fuck right off and knock off whatever bullshit you’re doing.” “Ah yes that, frankly I don’t care for the disrespect so I didn’t count it as a proper answer, maybe I should send him a message to learn to respect me or there will be consequences.”  He mulls and you fight back a flinch at his words, levelling a glare at him as he cockily smirks at you. “Who better to send that message through than his precious little sister.” 

 He stands in front of you as the guard moves his hands to your wrists again, pressing them harshly into the back of the wooden chair. You fight against his hold as sharp pain lances through the side of your face, once, twice a third. You lose count as your head swims and at some point, blood drips from your nose and lip, the assault on your face stops and you suck in a sharp breath before pain explodes in your chest, Beron's foot hits your left side and suddenly it's hard to breathe. You cough and sputter the metallic taste of blood pools in your mouth. Roughly, Beron grabs tightly onto your hair as he whispers in your ear “Tell your precious Rhy’s that if he continues to disrespect me I will make him regret it.” He lets go and stands, leaving the room as he yells over his shoulder. “Do what you want with her boys, just don’t kill her.” The door slams shut and you’re now left with the two guards. 

The one who has been quietly at the door now approaches but just as he nears you the room falls into complete darkness, you can’t see anything, but the pressure on your wrist is suddenly gone and you try to move out of the chair, falling onto the floor and hitting your head on the chair that Beron was just sitting on. A cold wisp against your face tells you Azriel is close, it brushes your hair out of the way and comfortingly strokes your cheek. Light filters back into the room and you faintly make out Azriel’s form, blue siphons catching your eyes as he quickly approaches you and crouches in front of your crumpled form. “Where are you hurt, Little one?” You groan, the usually endearing pet name doing nothing to calm you. His black-gloved hand comes to wipe blood from your face and you wince, shying away from his touch. “Hurts.” You yelp and he sighs, moving to pick you up bridal style and you cry out as sharp pain shoots through your chest, at least a few ribs being broken. Azriel slows his motions as you whimper, every small move causing extreme pain. Your arms lay limply against him as he moves, sending shadows out to clear your exit path. His lips kiss your forehead as he whispers “Let’s get you home.” 

The moment he starts up the stairs the pain becomes so blinding that your vision darkens. “Az.” You whisper and his concerned eyes meet yours as you fall into darkness. 

Soft blankets are the first thing you register, the next being a warm body circling yours and you quickly fight against their hold, heart racing as you try to escape. Pain lances through your side and head as you do so, warm arms pull you closer and pin your hands against their naked golden-brown chest. Soft words finally break through your panic. “You’re okay, you’re home. Shh I’ve got you little one, it’s just me.” Azriel’s warm and calming voice registers as you cease your attack on him, looking up you’re met with his concerned hazel eyes. “Az?” You choke out as he lets go of your hands and moves to pull you back into him. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.” Your eyes water as you fist his shirt, trying to steady your breath as he holds you against him. His hands reassuringly rub your back, trying to soothe you as your heart rate calms down. “Rhy’s, I need to speak with him-” You rush out. “No, already taken care of, you need to rest.” His hold on you tightens slightly to keep you from getting up. “But Beron’s soldiers-” He cuts you off. “Being taken care of as we speak. Now will you please just let me take care of you?” You nod a simple yes and he moves, laying your back against the bed as he moves off the bed to grab salve from the nightstand. “I need to take a look at your ribs, Madja said they would take longer to heal, this should help.” You bite your lip and move to lift your shirt just under your breast. Wincing as your fingers brush over the large collection of bruising. Az moves to your side of the bed and dips two of his scared fingers into the pot and moves them down to your skin. You hiss as the cold cream touches you. “It’ll be over soon I promise. Just be a good girl and let me take care of you alright?” He offers you a small smile as you nod and move to stare at the ceiling instead of him. His leathery hand moves quickly and softly against your bruised flesh as the pain begins to dull to a slight throb. “How bad?” You whisper and Azriel sighs. “3 broken ribs, a fracture to your skull and cheek and your nose was broken. Madja managed to heal your nose and cheek, your ribs will take longer and she was worried about your head. She said  you should be fully recovered in a few weeks and to expect some pain and dizziness.” He squeezes your hand and you sigh. 

“Also Rhy’s knows about us.” He says softly and you groan, scrubbing your face with your free hand. “Please tell me he took it well.” “He put me in charge of nursing you back to full health.” You look to Az confused lowering your hand back to the bed. “He said it’s my ‘punishment’ because you’re a terrible patient.” You give a small laugh at him though it results in you wincing and closing your eyes in pain. “I’m not that bad.” “I can think of a few ways to keep you in bed anyways, I’m not too concerned about it.” Az shoots back as heat rushes to your cheeks. “Oh yeah, and what’s that?” His lips kiss your hand, then your wrist and up your arm until he gets to your neck, softly biting the spot that makes your toes curl.  You let out a breathy moan as he moves to kiss your lips, soft against your own. He pulls back slightly “Something along those lines, I’m sure I can find a few ways to keep you in my bed.” You smirk at him. “I think I’m okay with that version of bed rest.” He chuckles and moves away from you. “Get some rest sweetheart.” You grab at his hand, pulling him back towards you. “Can you hold me?” You ask softly and he smiles down at you, kissing your forehead. “Of course.” He moves around you and onto his side of the bed, pulling you carefully into his side as he drapes one of his wings over the both of you. “Sleep now Little one, I’ll be here when you wake.”