#I KNOW ILL NEVER HAVE ANYTHING THAT I WANT BUT I HARDLY EVEN MIND

[15000bugs]

😢😆😆

[mochamadeleines]

Sweethearts and Sweet Dreams <3

“Nothin’?”

“Mhm.”

“Whats behind your back then?”

You sway in place, trying to suppress a knowing smile. “I dont have anything behind my back.” (6.4k words)

tags!! - 18+ modern au! Husband! Joel Miller, Wife! Reader, you guys are happy and in love!, mutual obsession if u squint, lots of exposition im so freaking sorry, pervert Joel if u squint, praise kink joel if you squint, dumbification if you squint, written for those with daddy issues lowkeeyyyyy, written with game joel in mind but could be hbo joel no problem!, lowk i combined the two in my mind, mentions of shy old man joel, housewife! reader (by choice), unspecified age gap but reader is like. thirty? and joels Like...55??, talk about joel taking medication for his anxiety, p in v sex, dirty talk, public sex, outdoor sex, joel has a kink for dresses because i said so? service top joel if you squint, pet names, a pinch of jealousy and possessiveness for fun, playful banter, mentions of maria and tommy and their baby with a made up name Lol, mentions of ellie and sarah (rip), mentions of readers past abusive relationships, talk about joel struggling with substance abuse/addiction and being hospitalized.....Im sure u can theorize why </3, lots of lore ill get into in another fic MAYBE *smirks*, flip flop in perspective, sometimes showing what joel is thinking or what reader is thinking blah blah

authors notes!! - hi there!!! im mocha and this is my first joel fic ever + my first fic posted to tumblr!! im really nervous cuz i havent written anything in months and ive never written joel before so please let me know if you like it!! id love to write more of this au for u guys if theres a demand for it...Thank u for reading!! also barely proof read im ngl. ive been staring at this fic all day im sick of itttt. p.s i dont usually write smut i also kinda do idfk Is this bad or am i tweaking

You step out of the house, morning sun soaking into the roots of your hair and the driveway beneath your feet. Theres a package youve been waiting for. 

You cant contain your grin as you wiggle it out of the hot prison that is your mailbox.

“What the hell are you doin’ out there barefoot?” Joel chastises you from the front door, leaning his elbow on the frame. Joel, your lovely husband of two years. Been together for five. And because of how hard he works, you have the privilege of being a stay at home wife. Some people think that sort of life is stifling, but youve never felt so free. No more jobs you hate, no more financial struggles. Just you, Joel, and your cat, Cement. He likes to pretend it isnt a totally hilarious name for a pet.

You were his first relationship in almost a decade, so it was a lot of work helping him unpack his anxieties about dating, and a lot of work for you to feel safe and unafraid. Honestly? Youve been mistreated by enough men to land you in the psychward.

But Joel never yells at you, he never breaks things when hes angry or threatens to hurt you. He might raise his voice every now and again, but its never because of something you did. Sometimes the stress of life is just too much. 

He works hard, he loves his daughter- daughters- and he would do anything to keep you happy. Whatever you say goes, he says. Even now, you hardly argue. Of course you have disagreements, or off days thatd lead to one of you being especially moody, but the both of you do your best to communicate.

Behind that rough exterior, is someone who just wants to be needed. 

You first met Joel at a youth center you volunteered at, he taught guitar, you taught arts and crafts. Joel says it was your smile and sense of humor that charmed him. It was his singing and southern accent for you.

Your favorite thing about Joel is how soft he gets around you. He says its because you make it easy to be soft. 

Joel was a shy lover at first. He would get nervous just kissing you, or holding your hand. While most people become intimate very early on in their relationship, you and Joel didnt do anything sexual for the first five months of you dated. Sure, you almost did, plenty of times, but he would get so overwhelmed and cut things short. You broke two of your vibrators during this era of your relationship. Embarassing.

You remember your first time very vividly. Joel had worked back to back doubles trying to meet a deadline, and on the final day, after having barely spoken to you for almost a week, you had shown up to his house, unannounced. You were wringing water out of your jacket when he swung the door open. 

“How-” Joel blinks a few times, stepping forward to examine the rainfall. “How long you been out here?”

“Not that long,” You lie and pick up the container you brought off the porch chair. Part of you had a hard time mustering up the courage to even knock on the door. Droplets of water cascade down your chin. “Hi, sorry. I know youre tired.”

He shakes his head, voice soft and warm. “S’fine. Now c’mon, youre gonna get sick.”

Youre seated at the little dining table next to the kitchen now, trying to let the sound of the rainfall ease your nerves.

Joel was quick to grab you a towel, and does the honors of drying your face and hair with it. “Why didnt you jus’ call me? Woulda gotten out of the shower faster if i knew you were gettin’ soaked out there like this.”

“I dunno, sorry.”

“An’ whatd i tell you about apologizin’ all the time?”

“Sor- Uh. Right. Okay.” You tighten your jaw. No more.

Joel moves behind you, now squeezing water out the ends of your hair. “Whas’ that?”

“Oh!-” You peel back the lid, showing it to him. “Old fashion cake donuts are your favorite right? I remember you saying you liked eating them with your coffee in the mornings so…I made these. Youve been working a lot lately and I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Joel gingerly grasps the container from your hands, looking into it. Theyre a warm golden brown, outside evenly fried, and the sweet scent of them hits his nose right away.

“I was just gonna leave them on the doorstep and call you to tell you they were there, but I wanted to see you.”

His adam's apple bobs as he swallows the dryness in his throat. Youre too good for him. 

“Thank you very much.” He presses a kiss to your damp hair. “Now, lets get you into some dry clothes.”

Joel gives you a t-shirt and a pair of his boxers to keep you modest while your clothes wash and dry. 

You wait patiently on his bed for the hot chocolate he promised you before you showered. Theres nothing to watch on the tv, so you just turn it off and reach for the lamp on his nightstand instead. 

He comes in quietly, and sets the mug down beside the lamp. You finally come into focus, clear as day even under the low lighting.

“You uh.. You look nice.”

You blink. “I look nice?”

“In my shirt.”

That gets a smile out of you. 

Joel tips his head towards the mug. “S’hot so, give it a few minutes. Dont want you burnin’ your mouth.”

You nod. “Okay.”

Hes sat beside you now and the two of you sit in silence for a while. Its not awkward, just the kind of silence where both of you want to say something but just.. Cant.

Joel unravels first. “Missed you, y’know. Just been tired.”

“I know.” Your voice wobbles, and Joels jaw tightens like hearing you sound so sad stings him. “I missed you, too.” 

He slides his hand over yours, giving it a squeeze. Its okay. 

“Hey Joel...Can I stay the night?” 

“Sure. Id really like that.”

While you drink your hot chocolate, you and Joel catch up. You both talk about work, and about your new found interest in baking. Joel teases you about your lack of cooking skills, you do the same. Youre both useless. 

When its time to climb into bed, neither of you can actually fall asleep. Joel rolls onto his side, away from you and the window. You follow, curling up like a little cat against his back. The sensation is nice for the both of you.

You speak up after a little while.

“Joel?”

“Mm.”

“Thank you for letting me stay.”

He scoffs, voice thick with exhaustion. “Like I'd force you to leave after you brought me such a nice present.”

You let out a little giggle, “So if i didnt, youd kick me out?”

“Id think ‘bout it.”

You gasp, gently shoving at his back. “Thats mean…!”

“S’really not.”

“Oh yeah? And what if I poisoned them?.”

“Then itd jus' be a regular day of your cookin’ then.” Joel reminds you, lighthearted. Too many times where you left the shells in your eggs or burnt toast or left the bacon on the pan for too long.

“You cant get mad at me for my dark past when you made a perfectly good sirloin taste like horse leather.”

“Ugh. Dont remind me. That was like putting a one-hundred dollar bill into a paper shredder. How do either of us stay alive again?”

“Uh. Digiorno?”

“Digiorno.”

After a few moments, Joels rolling over again, and hes guiding your head to settle against his chest. Your arms wrap around him, and his arms around you. 

“Joel,” You whisper. He hums. “Im cold.”

“S’cause youre not wearin’ any pants.”

“And whos fault is that?”

“Still yours.”

“I was left out in the rain like a sad, sopping wet cat. One that was left in a box all alone with no family…” You pretend to sniffle. “Dont you feel bad for me?”

Joel sighs, not saying anything more except making sure the part of the comforter behind your back is tucked into your side so the cold air doesnt get in. When hes done, you do a little shimmy up his body, and throw your leg over his hip. Oh no.

Hes alert now. Very alert. Be normal. Joel hesitates, licking the dryness off his lips. “Uh. Feel better?”

“Mhm.” You push your face into his throat, cat-like, before settling down again. Hes like a radiator.

Actually scratch that, he cant be normal. 

“Darlin’.” He rasps, patting your back to get your attention.

“Mm?”

“Your leg. Move it.”

A few beats pass. “Why?”

“Because…” Wow,  he didnt think hed get this far. You shift forward and Joel lets out a quiet exhale through his nose, one that couldve been masked by the rain if you werent so close.

“Are you-”

“No! No. Its- Its not what you think-” He cant see your face in the darkness but he knows you feel the semi-hard struggling through the confines of his pants. Lame.

“Joel,” You say, soft. Your hands slide up his arm to cradle his jaw. Lightning flashes into the room, giving you a glimpse of Joels tight expression. He whispers your name back, just as soft.

“This is normal.” 

Its normal, it is! Except for the fact that you guys havent had sex yet. The stress of being intimate is too much, kills his boner in a blink. The longer he waits the worse the anxiety gets.

“I-I know.”

You place a hand on his chest, feeling it pound away like crazy through all the soft muscle.  

“Youve been taking your medication, right?”

Has he?

The silence of him thinking is proof enough. “Joel-”

He sighs, rubbing his eyes through the darkness .“I know, I know. Shoot, Im sorry. I just forget sometimes.”

“Its okay.” The pad of your thumb strokes the tops of his cheek, and you press a tender kiss to his mouth to soothe him.  “...Want me to remind you?”

The softness of your lips has him a bit dazed. “Huh?”

“I said, do you want me to remind you? I can- You know, call you before you leave work. Make sure you take them.”

“You know I wake up at five-o-clock in the mornin’ , right?”

“I know.” 

In a whisper, “Okay.”

Joels rough palms trail down your back and stop at the curve of your butt, finger tips delicately tracing the skin above your shorts. You shiver.

Barely above a whisper. “We dont have to go all the way.”

He says your name again, laced with worry. He doesnt want you to feel pressured. 

You pull your leg off his hip and push yourself up, settling your hands on either side of Joels head.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yes-”

“-And you cant get all in your head about it. You stay here, with me. You stay present.”

“Okay, okay.” He nods, a bit defeated. “I will stay present.”

“When you...When you say you dont wanna have sex, what is it that youre thinking exactly? I know you said you just get really nervous but I feel like youre not being totally honest.”

Joel stays quiet, idly rubbing your sides. Maybe you are a cat. Just getting to feel any part of you is soothing. “I jus’ want you to feel good. ‘Fraid ill do somethin’ you dont like.”

“You cant assume how I feel, Joel. Being intimate.. It takes time to learn what the other person likes.”

He sighs. “I know.” Youre always right.

Adding on, “Like I said, we dont have to go all the way,” You lean further back, situating yourself on his hips. He lets out a shaky breath when he feels the pressure of your ass through his sweats.

“But, I want to start somewhere. I want to feel you.” 

“Fuck- Um-” Hes shaking now, letting you grind your hips down onto him. Joel cant seem to control the way his hips instinctively push up to meet yours. Youre both becoming of a mess of little gasps and hot breaths and tiny whimpers already.

You hunch forward, guiding his hand under your your shirt- His shirt- letting him feel up the supple skin of your stomach, then the area where your ribs are, then your-

“And I want you to feel me,”

Surprisingly, you did actually go all the way that night.

Your sex life was a bit of a rocky start, but after Joel got over most of his anxiety, you learned quickly just how goddamn insatiable he was. Five years in and he still regularly makes you sore. 

There are a couple things you learned about him and his sexual interests. He loves to take you in his truck, in your kitchen, in your bathroom, on your couch. Other, riskier places. Anywhere that isnt your bed apparently, not that he isnt fucking you there either.

Joel is handsy, so handsy infact it embarasses you to no end, especially when youre infront of others. Thats usually how it starts, too. First he kisses you, then gropes your hips and your ass, and the next thing you know, youre cumming on his fingers. Then hed bend you over, or get you on your back, or make you ride him. Is it really riding if hes just slamming up into you until your brain turns into mush?

He likes that too. Making you not think.

Youd be lying if you said its only ever him. Sleepy morning handjobs before work, whining to him over the phone and touching yourself to his voice, arching your back into him while you're washing dishes, sucking him off after hours in his office.

And while most men prefer lingerie or little costumes, Joel likes dresses. Dresses that are discreet so he can take you in the backyard when he comes home early and sees you gardening. Or when youre both at a friends house and hes had a little too much to drink and finds himself alone with you. Dresses that make it easy to play his favorite game with you. I touch you, and you make sure we dont get caught by being too loud. Joel really is the worst sometimes.

Now, you only ever wear pants when its cold, or to bed or sometimes when youre lounging, like today. Youre in some shorts and a tank top. Otherwise, its dresses all year round, usually retro styles or ones meant for spring. Joels not picky though, he loves any dress on you.

Even if you wear an extremely modest, white lacey sleep dress, looking like some kind of vintage ghost, the man would still keep you up all night. And he has. He said you looked like a princess. You guess you kind of did.

The entire thing is like an unspoken arrangement between you both. He doesnt tell you to wear them, you just do.

And he works hard to spoil you, so why not buy as many cute dresses as possible? 

You got a cute dress today too, on the same day Joel has off. You think its going to be a new favorite of his.

The big polymailer stays hidden behind your back. Be casual. “Uh- Nothing!”

“Nothin’?”

“Mhm.”

“Whats behind your back then?”

You sway in place, trying to suppress a knowing smile. “I dont have anything behind my back.”

“Lemme see then. Show me your hands-”

“Hey, Mrs. Miller!”

Both you and Joel turn your heads to the voice, and only one of you has the energy to fake a a smile. Your neighbor is stopping in his driveway, having come back from a jog it looks.

“Hi, Lee.” 

Joel really, really, really doesnt like Lee. You dont like him either, but youre not one to cause problems. Lee on the other hand, is. Hes a bit younger than you, and a lot younger than Joel. Hes one of those tech dudes with a massive ego, thinks that youll be swayed by his money and his “charm” and youth as if youre some sad housewife in need of saving. Gross. 

And another thing, Lee doesnt even actually live here! Hes here ever so often to visit his dad between, you dont know, tech expos? You forget. Joel believes he started showing up more often to see you. 

Youre walking towards the porch again. Joels looking especially unhappy to see him today, knuckles pulled taut into a fist. His lips stay pressed into a thin line, careful not to let anything slip out. He usually lets you do most of the talking, as much as it pains him. 

Joels really not a fan of the way Lees eyes take a trip up your bare legs. Little shit.

“Out with no shoes again, Mrs. Miller?”

“You know me, Im uh- Im weird.”

“The weird ones do it best.” He smiles, all teeth. It gives you the creeps. His attention is on Joel now. Its like watching a puppy try to one up a wolf. “Right, Joel?”

“Uh huh.” Whatever that means.

“Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, Mrs. Miller.” Lee crosses into your driveway and you glance briefly at Joel, as if to make sure he isnt going to start growling at the other to stay away. Youre clutching the package to your chest now. 

“Have you ever been to a support group for uh- you know, the spouses of addicts?  I have a friend from work and shes really struggling.” 

Lees tone is sugary sweet, but the fake kind you put in diet soda except that stuff is way better. Joel sighs from the door. You stand there, dumbfounded on the porch steps because what the fuck is he going on about. 

You clear your throat, keeping your voice firm. “No. Ive never needed to.”  

Joels voice cuts in like a knife. “Been clean for almost twenty years now.”

“Yeah but, you know,” He shrugs, squinting a bit under the morning sun. “Relapses happen.”

Joel and Lee are at a stand still, and the moment Joel lets the arm leaning on the frame drop to his side, you know youre in for a lot of trouble. You move quickly towards the door. “We have to get ready for a- uh- a thing? but Im sorry about your friend.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Miller. Im doing my best to support her.” And before he turns away, he just has to be slimy to you. “If you need someone to talk to, Im here for you.”

“No, that really wont be necess-”

Joels slinging a strong arm around you to yank you back inside before shutting the door. 

“Motherfucker,” He hisses to himself, stomping through the walkway and into the kitchen.

“How-” You rub your eyes, letting them adjust to the light inside of the house. You put the package down onto the bar counter that opens up the kitchen and follow Joel to the fridge. “How does he know?? I thought-”

“Been living in this house for decades now,” His expression is tight, brows knitted together while he chugs a bottle of water. “People talk. ‘Specially if I'm being rolled into an ambulance on more than one occasion.” Joel frowns. “Fuck- I shoulda punched him in the fuckin’ face- Do you see how hard he tries so hard to flirt with you infront’a me?”

“I know, love. I was there.” You take the bottle from his hand and set it to the side, then wrap your arms around him. “Try not to let it get to you okay?”

Joel sighs into your hair, giving your body a squeeze. “I know, I know, but jus’ hearin’ him tryin’ta use my baggage to make a pass at you…S’fuckin’ evil.”

“I agree, but I dont want his blood on the driveway.”

“So get it on his driveway instead, got it.”

You giggle and tip your head up to kiss him. The tension eases from Joels shoulders, and he cups your cheeks, letting his worries melt away into your mouth. When the pads of his fingers start to slide under your tank top, youre leaning back. Youll be here for a while if this goes any further.

Joel mindlessly chases your lips, looking a bit pouty now that its over.

“Im gonna start getting ready for the barbecue, okay?”

“This early?”

“I like being punctual.” 

“My brother wont give a damn if were late.” He noses your jaw, pressing a kiss here and there. Your knees are beginning to feel weak. The bastard is trying to distract you.

“But I do. The farmers market opened today, and I promised Maria I'd get her fresh strawberries before we got there, remember?”

“Alright, alright.” He grumbles into your shoulder.

Joel lets you go, watching you round the bar counter to get your package and disappear upstairs.

-

Ever since you came down to a freshly showered Joel, and got into the car with the gift bags you prepared for Maria and Tommy, Hes been staring at you. One wrong move and the drools gonna start pouring out of his mouth.

Your hair is in its relatively natural state, freshly washed and shiny from the oil you put in it. You put on some light makeup, and went a bit heavy handed on the blush to look sunkissed, and topped it off with a flavored lip gloss Joel especially enjoys. 

Now, the dress. Its a pink floral mid-length dress, with a low cut sweetheart neckline and a corset style backing to cinch your waist and push out your chest. The material is thick and pretty, and there are two other layers under the skirt to keep its shape. You have on a pair of little pink pumps with little bows to match. 

The drive to the farmers market is fairly peaceful, the windows are half down and theres music playing at low volume on the radio. You and Joel have different tastes in music, but one genre you can always agree on is alternative rock. 

The weathers beautiful, sun high in the sky, and its not too hot or humid. The day really is perfect. Youre gonna soak up some sun when youre at the barbecue. Hopefully, they made lemonade again too.

Joel has been mostly quiet throughout your shopping. While it would worry some, youve been with him long enough to know that he just has a lot on his mind. What hes thinking about? Maybe youll learn when you make it back home at the end of the day.

You gasp, strolling through the grass to a stand with a mountain of apples. Granny smith, Macintosh, Pink Ladys, Honeycrisp, the works. He grunts, trying to keep the things that are already in your basket steady. You came for strawberries and are going to leave with much more than that.

Joel nudges you softly. “Remember, this is quality stuff, meaning itll go bad faster. Dont get too much.”

“Okay, got it.” You beam, and then begin inspecting the Pink Lady apples first, trying to find the ones with the best color.  He keeps the basket within reach so you can drop your picks in.

"These were Sarahs favorites."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, it was funny 'cause we started arguin' over these or Red Delicious. I think Red Delicious is better."

"Thats so cute! Hmm. Should we get one for her? A Pink Lady?"

"Uh," He thinks on it for a moment, unsure, but the smile on your face helps him make a decision. "Sure, why not."

You drop two perfect Pink Ladys into the basket, moving onto the next pile.

“Hey, Joel.” You grin, holding out a wrinkled granny smith apple. “This one looks like you”

“Ha ha.” He deadpans, and grabs it from you to put back. In turn, hes reaching for the runt of the pile. A pathetically small one sitting near the bottom. “Now this one looks like you.”

“Does not!”

“Does too.” 

The next stand has golden kiwis, and youre practically dragging Joel forward to try them. You ask for one, and the man at the stand slices it into halves, giving you a plastic spoon to go with. 

You let Joel smell it first. “S’good.”

“Lets see if it tastes good.”

You sink your spoon into it, humming when you see how soft and easy it is to scoop out. In your mouth it goes!

Its tastes sweet, a bit mango-y and fucking delicious. You bounce in place, spoon feeding Joel next. “Oh yeah,” He smiles, smacking his lips a bit to really let the taste settle on his tongue. “Were takin’ some of these.”

You take one, then two, then three and four then five and as you reach for the sixth one, Joels stopping you with a gentle hand. 

“Darlin’.” 

“Right.” 

For the next few stands its just you and Joel trying various kinds of fruit. Starfruit, blueberries, some mangos, and then youre going back to the truck.

“I think my favorites were the mangos and golden kiwis. I hope Maria and Tommy have enough space in their fridge for all of this.”

“They moved into a bigger house, I reckon their fridge s’probably bigger, too.”

“What time is it?” 

You let go of Joels arm so he can switch the basket from one hand to the other. 

“‘Bout…” Hes squinting at his watch. “12:34 in the afternoon.”

“Oh! Guess we got the shopping done sooner than I expected. Hmm. Should we stop somewhere in the mean time?-" You snap your finger when you remember something. "They opened up this cafe that has cats in it! We can drink coffee and play with them for bit! The next fourty-five minutes will go by super fast."

“Youre gonna make Cement jealous.”

You bat your hand dismissively. “Hes not gonna caaare.” 

“Oh yes he will. And remind me again why we named our cat Cement?

“Uh, we were both drunk and had gotten him the day before without a name picked out?”

“A whole year later and we still kept it. Worst pet owners ever.” Joel chuckles, opening the passenger door for you like he always does. 

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

The giant basket of fruit goes into the back seat next to the gift bags before Joel slots himself into the drivers seat. 

You fumble with the radio a bit, trying to see what else is on but ultimately landing back on your preferred station. Theyve been playing a lot of Linkin Park recently. Hell yeah. Joel buckles himself in at last, and pulls out of the parking lot. 

“Marias gonna teach me how to make baked chicken,” You hum, gazing outside the window.

“You sure youre not jus’ unteachable?”

“Ha ha,” You lightly shove his shoulder, making him smile. “I thought you loved the meat sauce pasta I learned how to make.”

He settles into his seat more comfortably at the stop light, elbow rested on the window. “Got me with that one. Think I like ground turkey over beef, though.”

“Yeah? Me too. The beef tastes better but the turkey is lighter. Stops me from feeling all sick.”

“Agreed.”

Youre looking out the windshield now. Where did all the buildings go? Youre out of the city. 

“Uh, Joel?”

“Mm?”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere to kill time.”

“Yeah but where?”

“Youll see.” 

Your brows pinch together. “I see a whole lot of nothing except for trees."

“Almost there.”

Joel makes a hasty left turn onto some campgrounds. Your stomach starts to twist into excited knots. Is he gonna show you a baby deer or something? Bunnies? He used to be a park ranger for this area, and would tell you stories about all sorts of baby animals hed run into.

The car comes to a stop, and he turns the engine off. Silence.

“So…Were out in the woods to kill time?”

“Mhm.” Joel unbuckles his seat belt and twists into the back to grab the spare jacket he usually keeps there, then gets out of the truck and comes around the back to open the door for you. 

He holds your hand to help you get down from the passenger side, and as soon as both of your shoes hit the ground Joel is on you. 

You dont know where your hands should go, youve kissed Joel a thousand times and yet you still get so flustered when he catches you by surprise. You keep your hands on his shoulders for now, letting him press wet kisses to your neck and shoulder.

“This is new right? The dress?” He gives your ass an appreciative squeeze through the fabric. “Thought you looked so pretty when you came down stairs in it.” 

Your heads spinning. Something about your dress? 

“Woulda been okay if you let me have you earlier.” He pulls away, examining your flushed face cradled by his hand. Every part of you just fits so well in his palms. “Then I thought, why not have you now? We got time to spare.”

“Joel- We- Someone could see us-” You sputter, and Joels already shaking his head with a knowing smirk. He pulls you around to the bed of the truck, popping it open, only pausing to spread open the jacket he grabbed, just having just thrown it in there when he came around to get you.

“No ones gonna come lookin’ for us.” He turns you around, pushing you down onto your front. “As long as youre quiet.” 

Fuck. You really hate this game. At least, you like to tell yourself that.

Blood rushes to your ears while Joels rough palms lift up the skirt of your dress, exposing your ass and thighs to the cool air. He whistles from behind you. 

“Red lace panties?” His fingers dont shy away from tracing along the fabric covering your cunt. “This new too?”

You crane your neck over your shoulder to look at his face. “Uh.. Surprise?”

Joels smiling now, fingers dipping under the lace. “Thas' awfully sweet of you.”

His touch slips and slides around your growing wetness, then trails down to your clit. Your voice wobbles a bit and fuck- fuck hes going too fast. “Joel- Ah-” You whimper and try to push yourself up to look at him but his hand is steady on your spine, keeping you down. 

Smug, “Go on, sweetheart. Keep sayin’ my name. Jus’ like that.”

A whine escapes you when he pulls away, “Nooo.” You push your ass back, as if to entice him. You succeed, because hes skipped his usual routine of fucking you with his hands and is now unbuckling his belt.

Joel rolls you onto your back, and peels your underwear all the way off, bunching it up and shoving it into his back pocket. Your face burns just watching him.

“Think i'll hold onto these for a lil’ while.”

His hands push the back of your knees towards your chest, exposing your heat. Youll never get used to the way he just seems so interested just watching your cunt squeeze around nothing. 

“Thats-” You swallow, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. "Joel.”

“Relax." He coos, "Seen it a thousand times already, and ill be seein' it a thousand more. Get used to it, honey.”

Your attention flickers down to where his dick is about to meet your entrance. Joels nudging you down onto your back again and pulling the top of your dress down to expose your chest. Its when youre distracted that he actually moves to push himself in.

Both of you groan together, and Joel could never get bored of fucking you, not when your cunt just pulses around him everytime hes inside you.

Joel wastes no time fucking you once he eases all the way inside. Youre trying your best to keep quiet. Shit is no easy task. Its like Joel is trying to get you guys arrested.

He props himself up with a hand near your head, and lets the other keep one of your legs pinned open. The moans start to claw out of your throat. “Joel- Joel-” 

“Shh. Thas’ enough.” He growls through his teeth, fucking you harder. “Youre gonna- Gh- Get us caught-”

Something rustles between the trees, making you both freeze. You clasp your hands over your mouth, watching Joel straighten up to look around.

After a few seconds of squinting, Joel can see a few foxes moving about through the trees. Thank fuck. His shoulders visibly relax.

Hushed, “E-Everything okay?”

“Yeah, jus’ some animals.” 

And like that, hes back to it. His dick is going to make your eyes permanently stay rolled into your head. 

Joel is always just so handsome when hes pounding into you. His forehead gets shiny with sweat, and his jaw is tight from clenching his teeth, keeping himself quiet so he can focus on your moans. His face is noticeably redder against his usual farmers tan too. Really, hes just so attractive.

A flurry of yes and harder and fuck spills out of your mouth and into your palms. Not too loud, you try to remind yourself.

“Joel- S’too much-”

“Nah, thas’ not it.” He huffs, humorous. “You can take it. Y'always do. In fact, you love gettin’ your cunt bullied by me, aint that right?” As if to get his point across, he thrust in all the way to the hilt, making you keen. You forgot how to breathe, lungs drawing tight in your chest.

"Fuck," You manage to squeeze out.

Your palms push weakly at his shoulders, trying to ground yourself somehow. His head drops to the junction of your neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply.

“You good?” He checks in, breath hot on your skin. As if your crying isnt enough.

“So g-good, Joel- Fuck- Youre so good.” 

With a little nod, Joels pushing himself up, switching to slow and deep strokes, really digging himself into you, and trying to find that spot he likes to call home.

He massages your chest, then squeezes your sides and your hips and finally, his thumb finds your clit. Immediately, you jolt. 

“Oh fuck-” 

“Quiet.” And he says it to keep the charade going, even though his favorite thing is hearing your sobs.

His thumb rubbing incessantly against your that sweet little nub of yours. You choke, and Joels chuckling, watching the way you squirm, body not knowing whether it should lean into his touch because its too good or away because its too much.

It starts with this firey feeling under the pad of his thumb, then deep inside your stuffed cunt. Youre going to cum. 

Your hands fly to your mouth again, and you get all wide eyed from the sensation. Its cute. Your muscles pull taut, legs locking around Joels hips. Youre wailing into your palm when it happens.

“Good girl,” His voice soothes you through it. “Very good.”

He pets away the fly aways sticking to your sweaty face when its over. Your eyes drop shut while you catch your breath. 

Joels moving again now. He rolls his hips a few times, and thumb is building the foundation of another orgasm in you. Youre shaking badly.

Your words slur too, “Cant- Too soon- Joel- Joel-”

“Another one.” Joel says firmly, but breathless. 

Youre gasping, not sure where to focus your eyes. The trees around you look like theyre spinning. Your attention is back on Joel, whos looking rather satisfied watching you squirm and cry. If thats how wants to play, then fine.

Your hands slide up Joels biceps, and rests on the nap of his neck to bring him down. “Juh-Joel,” You pant, cradling his face with both hands. “Youre so good- The best-”

Oh, Joel likes that one, you can tell by the way he looks away briefly. Shyness. Excitement runs up your spine. Joel loves being told hes doing well. 

“You are- Nghh-” You swallow the drool in your mouth, trying to get the words out clearly. “The best husband I could ever ask for.”

Joel wheezes, head dropping into the curve of your shoulder. “Please.”

“S’true,” You nod rapidly, fingers curling into his hair. “Youre so good to me and-and youre mine and- Joel-  Im yours.”

“Jesus-” He groans, soaking up the feeling of you pressing kisses to his face and up his jaw. 

“Hhah-  No one else can have me, okay? No one- Not even-”

The name doesnt even come out of your mouth before Joels coming to a stop to slip his arms all the way around your middle. With the new leverage he has on your body, hes drilling his way into you. You fucking squeal, rules now long forgotten. Youre a useless ragdoll in his arms and he wouldnt have it any other way.

Your lips are shiny with spit and left over lip gloss, and he can still taste the mintiness in his tongue. Every now and again your eyes drop shut, but his dick just punches into your guts a little harder. Look at me. 

Your brain is mush, just the way he likes it, and youre perfectly pliant in his arms, babbling over how good you feel. Hes kisses along the valley of your breasts now, stopping to suck the flesh of your nipples.

Youre just so pretty. Even when you have bedhead, or youre snotty from a cold, or youre all dirty from working in the garden  youre still so pretty. Including now, all sweaty with you lipgloss all smudged and your mascara starting to run. Youre perfect. 

Joel grunts loud, jaw clenched tight as he gets lost in the feeling of your insides. His perfect little wife.

When he cums, hes doubling over with a loud grunt, getting a few last thrusts in before his spent floods your cunt.

Youre blinking away your tears, now watching the clouds inch along the sky. It really is a beautiful day. You pet Joels sweaty hair, and kiss the side of his temple. Your core throbs faintly. Jesus, he did a number on you.

“Love,” You say softly, patting his back.

“Mm?”

“Get up.” Another pat. “Youre squishing me.” 

Joel backs off to buckle himself up, but you stay seated to catch your breath and adjust your dress. At least it didnt get ripped during all the… Commotion. Not like last time.

“I need my underwear back.”

“Nope,”

“Joel.”

He kisses the center of your forehead and helps you down from the bed and into the passenger seat instead.  “Told you i'm keepin’ ‘em.”

You sputter, “I cant go to barbecue commando!”

“Sure you can.” He pops open the glove compartment and gets out some tissues, hand snaking under your dress again to clean you. You sigh softly at the sensation.

“Youre the worst.”

“I am indeed the worst.” Joel pulls the seatbelt over your chest and clicks it in. “You can tell me all about it on the way to Tommys.” 

[ellecdc]

can you pleasee do dad!Sirius x AFAB reader with a young child please I'm craving it. Maybe the kid got a cold and everyone's worried idk but I would love to see how Sirius would spoil her or take care of her

poor dramatic sirius hahaha. thanks for your request!

dad!Sirius Black x mum!reader whose child is sick [534 words]

CW: kid fic, fluff, the reader is actually gender neutral (no gender specified) but is the other parent of the child and I wrote it with a fem!reader in mind

“That snot-nosed little mouth breather isn’t allowed over anymore.” Sirius muttered into the crown of Aurora's head from his place on the couch; your daughter laid stretched across his torso with her cheek smooshed against his chest as she breathed audibly through her mouth on account of her stuffed up nose. She was a pitiful sight, though she seemed wholly safe and content in her father’s arms.  

Now, you were quite sure you heard what Sirius had said, but you had to ask again just to be certain; or just in case he wanted to amend his statement. 

“What?” 

“I said,” Sirius started, looking at you pointedly over the child’s head to ensure you were listening; you had to admit, Sirius was very good at making his points with his entire chest, “that snot-nosed little mouth breather isn’t allowed over anymore.”

“Sirius,” you chided, though you were sure your smile was audible in your voice, “are you talking about your godson?” 

“Uhm, is my godson a snot-nosed little mouth breather?” He asked in faux derision, face crumpling in misery when Aurora let out a rattling cough in her sleep. “My poor sweet girl; look what he’s done to her!” 

“I hardly think he did this on purpose, Sirius.” You scolded around a smile. “We have no idea if he even had the sniffles before he came over.”

“Oh, I’m sure he definitely did have the sniffles before he came over.” Sirius countered bitterly; hand rubbing soothingly up and down Aurora’s back as she drooled on his chest to which he was either ignorant or wholly unbothered. “Then James went and sent him over anyway. Probably payback.”

“Payback?”

“I just never thought he’d stoop so low as to biological warfare,” he continued as if you hadn’t said anything at all, “and my child?! No, it’s not right at all. Who do we call about this, hm? The Scotland Yard? Or do we take this right to the UN for war crimes?”

“Sirius-”

“She’s too sweet to be so poorly.” He murmured quietly then, bottom lip jutting out comically as he looked at you beseechingly. 

“Baby.” You sighed, finally standing up from the chair to kneel beside Sirius and Aurora’s forms on the sofa. Of course, your arrival came at the price of two kisses for Sirius, both of which you paid eagerly. “Kids get sick, my love. And when she ends up in school, she’ll be coming home sick every other week.”

“That’s disgusting.” Sirius pouted. 

“I know.” You agreed quickly. “But being exposed to some illnesses also helps build up their immune systems. Maybe now she’ll stand a better chance against all the other snot-nosed little mouth breathers she’ll meet at nursery school.” 

Sirius let out a long suffering sigh, though his eyes remained glued to your face and his hands continued their broad strokes along Aurora’s pyjama clad back. “So I shouldn’t call the UN?”

“No.”

“Not yet.” Sirius compromised, looking into the room unseeingly. “But I will have to get James back for this. Maybe we’ll send Harry home jacked up on sugar and treats? Oh! We’ll get him a puppy. No! Four puppies!” 

You hid your smile (and the roll of your eyes) behind pressing a kiss to your daughter’s overly hot forehead.

[sicbaby]

sleeping beauty

stepdad!leon kennedy x f!reader

cw: 18+ smut, stepcest, somnophilia, non consensual (at first)

it was a weekend you were looking forward to. a nice little winter vacation with your mom and some of her friends. it would be nice to get out of the house for a while anyway, especially since your seasonal depression kicked in.

however, your plans quickly changed when you fell ill. god damnit, stupid fucking weather. had to ruin your plans. now you were bed ridden, absolutely no energy so you refused to do anything. your loving mother didn’t bat an eye, wishing you well and heading off with her friends for the weekend. thanks, mom.

luckily, your stepdad was free. leon.

leon was a good dad, sweet and caring… more than your mom ever was. you liked him a lot. your mom put leon in charge of taking care of you for the weekend, and he was more than happy to oblige. he barely ever had time off work, and he was looking forward to spending time with you.

it was friday night and leon sat on the couch watching tv, feeling frustrated. the reason why? you.

yes, you. the poor little thing that had slept the day away. he had planned out the whole evening for the two of you. he was going to make soup, cuddle you and watch your favorite movies and kiss and love on you. like a good father should when his daughter gets sick. but you never even got out of bed. he felt lonely, frustrated, and needy. he missed his pretty little girl.

it was getting late. he shut down the house and put away the full pot of soup he had made for you. just seeing it sitting there made his frustration grow even stronger.

he turned off all the lights, locking the front door and heading upstairs. he’s mad at you.

he knows he shouldn’t feel that way, especially when you’re sick. but he can’t help it. he passes your door, not giving it a second look as he heads to his room.

he strips to his boxers, ready to get in bed as he fights an internal struggle within himself.

god, it’s not your fault, you poor thing. but he has needs too, doesn’t matter if you’re sick. with a frustrated sigh, he heads to down the hall to check on you.

he knocks on your door softly, and when there isn’t a response he opens it. the air is damp, filled with the peppermint scent of your diffuser on full blast. the room is dark, and he can hardly see until he comes closer. you’re sleeping. still.

his gaze wanders over your sleeping form. you were on your belly with your left leg hiked up. you were wearing the sheerest pink nightgown, and the silk practically melted into your body, leaving little to the imagination. it also didn’t help that your position caused the gown to ride up, the bottom of your cheeks exposed to him. nothing underneath that slutty little gown, of course. despite his irritation, he couldn't deny the allure of your vulnerability. a mischievous grin tugs at the corner of his lips as a wicked idea forms in his mind.

leon slowly approaches the side of the bed, his steps almost silent against the carpeted floor. he felt as if you owed him for the lonely, isolated day he had.

swiftly, he reaches out and gently brushes his hand against your cheek, feeling the warmth of your feverish skin beneath his fingertips. "you know, i was hoping we could have some quality time together," he murmured, his tone mocking. "but it seems like you're too busy being a useless little burden, sleeping the day away."

his frustration brewed beneath the surface, and he couldn't resist the temptation any longer. leon slowly reaches down, his fingers grazing over your thigh. the touch was light, teasing, not wanting to wake you up just yet.

"since you're so useless, maybe i should find another way to entertain myself," he whispered, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "hmmm,” he hums, “maybe i'll have to wake you up properly, little sleeping beauty."

leon's hand continued caressing your thigh, inching higher and higher. your mouth was wide open, snoring softly. he chuckled at that. even sick and asleep, you were such a prize. and he was going to claim you.

trailing his hand along the back of your left thigh, he nudges it to the side slightly, guiding your legs to open more for him. he trails up and up, until his index finger flicks over the soft flesh of your pussy. he smirks when you don’t move, and proceeds to glide his finger up and down your folds until it settles on your clit. he applies just enough pressure to elicit a small noise from your parted lips. it’s barely noticeable, though, and he keeps playing and teasing with your pussy until that warm wetness is coating his finger.

the act of making you wet even while you slept was an intoxicating feeling for leon. the sudden urge to possess you and claim you as his own rushes over him.

he crawls over you, settling into bed next to you. he places a light hand on your back, feeling the silk of your nightgown. his touch trailed lower and his fingers knead the soft flesh of your ass, reveling in its plumpness. he couldn't help but let out a low, husky groan as his desire for you intensified.

leon's desire grew even stronger as he shifted closer to you. being careful not to disturb you, he delicately repositioned you onto your side, hand still firmly gripping your ass. once he’s satisfied with your position, he presses his hand to the front of your hips, pressing your ass against him. his cock hardens at the feeling of your warm and soft ass against him. he couldn't help but grind his hips against yours, feeling his cock grow with every slow rut. a low growl of satisfaction escaped his lips as he continued, moving his head up to press his face into your hair, inhaling your scent.

he looks back down to your ass, slowly and carefully lifting your nightgown up your back, exposing your bare skin to the fabric of his boxers as he continues to slowly hump you. in a low, whispered voice, he couldn't resist indulging in dirty talk again, knowing you wouldn't hear him. you were so deep in your slumber.

"hi, princess.” he taunts, right in your ear this time. “you gonna let daddy fuck your tight little pussy? hm? yeah, you are. daddy’s gonna do whatever he wants with you tonight, baby," he murmured, his voice laced with desire. “daddy deserves that, right?” he asks, reaching up to grab your chin, forcing you to nod your head in your sleep. he chuckles deeply at this. “yeah, that’s right. good girl, baby.”

as he continues grinding against you, his hand lowers from your chin to your breasts, lightly grazing his fingers over your nipples, smirking to himself when he feels them harden almost immediately. you don’t move, don’t make any noise, and he wonders how much farther he can go. he trails his left hand down your tummy to your pussy, his hand once again finding your clit. at this point, you’re soaked. “dirty fucking girl..” he chuckles deeply.

he removes his hand, wiping your slick off on his boxers as he pulls them down his legs. he tosses them off the bed, moving back to you to lift up your leg. he scoots up, placing his now hard cock up against your wet cunt. he brings your leg back down and groans at the feeling of your lips and thighs surrounding his cock. he begins humping you again, your pussy continuously wetting his dick and making the most obscene noises in the quiet room.

it wasn’t until now you stir slightly, in a weird dream like state. you feel heat on your neck, a warmth against your body and wetness pooling between your legs. and yet, your mind can’t comprehend it, choosing to stay asleep.

leon continues humping his cock against your pussy, grunting softly in your ear. soon, he’s losing all control. he quickly lifts your leg, taking his dick into his hand as he slaps your cunt a few times with it, teasing himself yet again. he rubs it back and forth, pushing his head against your entrance, gauging your reaction. you still don’t move, and he scoffs a little. he finally presses the tip of his cock into your waiting hole, slowly yet surely filling you up. he barely gets all the way inside when you finally wake up, in a daze.

“hmm- huh, hnnng? leon?” you whine, immediately trying to get up when you feel a heavy, almost painful weight inside of you. you’re sick, weak and confused, your whines almost sound like you’re about to cry. and you just might, until leon pushes you gently back onto your side. “shhh, shhh, princess. it’s okay, daddy’s here. just needed to fill you up, make you feel better. daddy just wanted to feel you. that’s okay, right baby?” he shushes you, keeping his cock buried deep inside you.

you lay back against the pillows, your face contorted in confusion and worry. you nod. “o-oh, y-yeah… okay, daddy…” you immediately comply. you trust your dad. whatever he’s doing.

your voice is weak, eyes burning and you’re just so fucking tired. your state turns leon on even more. you don’t even comprehend what’s going on until you blink a few more times.

and then you realize it. your stepdads cock is inside of you.

“d-dad?” you say weakly, unable to move. your eyes shift around the room, scared to move, scared to turn around to face him.

“yeah?” he groans. “so naughty. leaving your daddy all alone all day.” he mumbles. “you’re gonna make it up to me, kay princess?” his voice is condescending, a bit mean, and it makes your pussy clench around him. yet your face tells a different story. you’re on the verge of tears. why is this happening? he laughs breathily into the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. you want this just as much as him. even if you don’t realize it yet.

your mouth is slightly open, unable to breathe through your nose due to your sickness. you feel dizzy, your body hot and sweaty and leon begins to thrust, pounding into you relentlessly from behind. your body is completely limp in his hold, his left hand digging into your thigh harshly as he keeps your leg up in the air.

you cry out, your body feeling so fragile and sore. he’s just making it worse. this isn’t right. but why are you so wet? your panic increases by the second.

“d-dad! stop! this is so bad,” you sob. “t-this is sooo wrong!”

his thrusts are forceful, taking exactly what he wants from you with no mercy. he can sense your energy waning, your body growing weaker as you try to fight back. he drops your leg, reaching around to rub circles into your swollen clit.

“oh, it feels wrong, does it?” he growls. “but i know you want this, baby girl. fight all you want. pussy’s fuckin’ crying for me.” he feels your body trembling, little whines and cries falling from your pretty mouth.

you feel so overwhelmed, thrashing in his hold, tears falling from your eyes. you don’t even know what you want, a pure mess, brain mushy and can’t think straight. your movements are futile against him. “s-stop! stop! hurts, daddy! please…” he’s huge, practically splitting you in two on his dick.

“no, no, baby. you be good for daddy. you don’t wanna make daddy angry, hmm? bad girls don’t get to cum, you know.” his voice is surprisingly soft, yet so fucking condescending it makes a sob erupt from you. he pulls all the way back out, before slamming his entire length back into your pussy.

“d-daddy,” you cry. “please!” you’re shaking so much, poor baby. your pussy keeps clenching, sucking in his cock before trying to spit him out.

“awww.” he coos. “does daddy’s cock feel too big for your tiny little pussy, baby girl?” he slows his thrusts, giving you some time to adjust. you can feel your heartbeat racing in every part of your body, especially in your cunt. you’re thankful he slows down. you can really feel him this way, feel how every ridge drags deliciously against your walls. it feels too good now. you want to cum. you need to cum.

however, leon doesn’t like taking it slow. “don’t worry, honey. i know you can take it.” he resumes a faster pace, your entire body bouncing from the force. your sobs of pain and discomfort quickly turn into whiny moans of pleasure, no matter how much you try to fight it.

he grabs your cheeks roughly, squeezing them, making your lips pout as he turns your head towards him slightly. he kisses at your tears, tasting the saltiness on your face.

“you’re doing so well, my precious little toy. you’re such a good girl for taking all of daddy’s cock.” he praises, causing you to subconsciously relax a little, letting him sink deeper into your cunt.

“thaaaats it, princess,” he continues, bottoming out and stilling for a moment again. he kisses your neck hungrily, breathing in your scent once again. “you ready to cum for daddy, my little bunny?” he teases, his voice dripping with control. you whine in response, that dumb little brain of yours not able to form words. “beg for it, baby. show me just how badly you need it.” he ruts up harshly into you one time, urging you to speak. it causes you to gasp out a broken moan.

“p-please… please.. need ‘t cum…” it’s a weak response, but you truly aren’t able to conjure up anything better. your hips have a mind of its own, grinding back on leon’s cock desperately searching for release.

leon would want to make you beg for it until you were screaming, but he had to have some type of consideration for his sick baby, right?

he doesn’t respond to your begging, only continuing to pound into you. it feels so good you feel like you’re about to pass out, head empty and dizzy.

he reaches around once more, slapping your bouncing tits a few times, making you gasp. you throw your hands up, trying to stop him but he easily swats your hands away and continues. his fingertips drop down harshly right on your hard, sensitive nipples. “nuh uh, baby. what did i say, huh?” he threatens in a high pitched, taunting baby-like voice.

“‘m sorr- sorry, daddy!” you cry out, hiccuping, your voice hoarse.

“mm, it’s okay, my sweet girl. ‘s brave, endured so much for daddy. go ahead and cum, baby. cum all over daddy’s cock.” he says through gritted teeth. he stops his assault on your tits, bringing his hand down to rub at your puffy clit.

your hand wraps around his wrist, pushing it down harder against the swollen nub. he smirks at this. your lip is drawn between your teeth, body going stiff as you near your release.

“cmon, baby. be a good girl for me. wanna feel that tight pussy cum around my cock. you want it, don’t you?” he encourages, his balls drawing up, so so so close to cumming inside of you.

“mhm, mhm, mhm!” you moan, nodding your head once you feel your orgasm approaching. your jaw goes slack, eyes rolling back into your head, body convulsing as you cum hard. your head is thrown back, resting on leon’s shoulder. he places kisses on your temple, holding you tight through your release.

he starts rutting into you like a rabbit as he cums, shooting his load deep into your womb, offering a warm satisfaction in your lower belly. his thrusts turn into slow, sharp ruts, making sure your cunt takes everything he has to give.

“fuck, baby.” he grunts, his body convulsing with the aftershocks of pleasure. he stays inside of you for a moment. both of you are breathing hard and you sigh tiredly. he moves the hair from out of your face, kissing you sweetly on the cheek.

your cheeks are red and puffy, stained with tears. you feel so good, you can’t even be upset at what just happened. in fact, you want it to happen again.

exhaustion washes over you. your thoughts, your morality… it can wait for the morning.

“go back to sleep, sweet girl. daddy will take care of you. love you so much, princess.” he kisses your forehead, nosing your hairline, inhaling your sweet scent. he just can’t get enough. such a perfect little girl, and now he’s claimed you. his perfect little girl, all for him.

[thragedys]

Clear Mind

Ren x Fem Reader

REBOOTING...

Synopsis: With many dreadful thoughts lingering on your conscience, you have been experiencing trouble regarding trust in the people close to you. With the news rambling on about murders and the everlasting feeling of eyes glaring at you, you’re close to breaking. You can’t shake that forever-present paranoia alone.

Word count: 2.3k

Includes: Ren x Fem Reader, comfort, Ren being sweet, establishing a relationship, smut, oral, cunnilingus, kissing, clothed orgasm

A/N: Ren is too cute! I had to write something about him.

It was strange—his behaviour. You’ve never seen anything quite like it, the constant jitters in his facade. Your emotions are constantly changing. At this point, you are uncertain how you feel towards Ren. Part of you pities him and wants to remain his friend, but the other wants to get as far away as possible. Miles, perhaps a new city. However far your legs can take you.

He hasn’t done anything to harm you. He would never. His protectiveness, however, disturbs you deeply. How he told your friends he was your boyfriend without the slightest hint of hesitation, the way he’s so effortlessly affectionate and intimate. If you’re able to clear the air with him this evening, there will be no more worries remaining. Other than the uneasy sensation of a set of prying eyes burning through you every passing moment. 

You blame your neighbour, Violet, for that unnerving sense of paranoia. She just had to mention she witnessed someone exiting your apartment. Someone you weren’t aware was in there in the first place.

Knock, knock, knock.

Three gentle taps against your door. It’s Ren. Your heart sinks to your stomach as you stand to your feet, legs wobbling as you make your way to answer. Pulling down the handle, you take a deep breath and gaze up at the lanky figure before you.

“Hi! Is everything okay? You look… Ill?” Ren pats his hand against the side of your face and you huff, feeling guilty for ever suspecting anything of him. Awkward people tend to shift their behaviour when around new individuals to avoid getting embarrassed, that’s likely his reasoning.

“I just need to talk to someone. I’ve been having trouble sleeping recently.”

“Told you that you could stay at my place whenever you wanted, didn’t I?” His smile was soft, raising the bag of goodies he brought with him. “Can I come in? It’s food and a few other things.”

…

“Wow, you don’t look well at all… Are you sure you’re okay?” His concern grows as you snap out of your trance, opening the door further for him to enter.

“I’m scared, Ren.”

“Of what? You can tell me anything— everything for that matter.”

“I swear I saw someone outside of my window a few days ago. I don’t know what they were doing, but I saw them. Hardly anyone is ever out there.”

“Hmm? Were they looking your way?”

“…I don’t think so. I can’t remember.”

“Okay, that’s fine! Don’t stress over it. We can talk about this after we eat. You need to get some food in you.”

Pulling out the boxed portions of food, he slides yours over and begins digging into his own, keeping a keen eye on you while you nibble at your meal. Even though you can’t shake the impending dread, you regain your appetite after seeing he purchased your favourite for you.

Now you feel a little bit better. You push any food waste aside and notice how he immediately goes to dispose of it, taking care of your duties inside of your own home without you having to ask. Ren was a sweetheart.

“How do you want to do this? Lying down, sitting, standing?” He taps his fingers against the tabletop, his eyes filled with worry as you space out yet again.

“Do what?”

“Talk. I wanna hear everything you have to say so you can get it off of your mind.”

“Oh, the sofa will do. Thank you for coming over.”

“No need to thank me! I’m happy to be here, so happy to be with you. I missed you so much.”

Not quite catching the last part of his sentence, you sink onto the sofa and rest your head against his arm. You pour your heart out to him, unsure if you’re overstepping by not holding back — but he did tell you he’s here to listen. And he did. 

When you finished listing off your worries, he hummed and squeezed you tighter, now realising that during your full confession, you somehow ended up in his embrace. His nose is pressed into your hair, one hand stroking up and down your back, hushing you as a few tears slip from your eyes.

“Don’t cry, Angel… You’re safe, I promise.” Judging from the tone of his voice, you can tell he is hurt by how upset you’ve been. “I’m here for you. Do you want to stay at my place tonight? Clear your head, get away from all those thoughts.”

“I can’t hide from my fears forever, Ren.”

“Then you’ll have to let me fight them off. I’ll beat up the bad guys for you and the bad thoughts.” He raises his fists playfully, locking eyes with you as you lift your head.

“Are you sure you could handle them?”

“Easily! Oh, I forgot to ask…” Ren murmurs, twiddling with the fabric of your shirt. “I am allowed to stay over, aren’t I? I brought my essentials, so…”

“Of course. I’m going to use the bathroom; you can go get yourself comfy.”

“You’re the best! I’ll be waiting for you.” He springs to his feet and wanders off into your bedroom, leaving you to tend to your nighttime routine.

Applying the final step of your skincare, you pat your face and yawn. It has gotten quite late, you’re starting to wonder whether Ren fell asleep without you. Entering the bedroom, you spot him sitting on the edge of the bed, as though he was seriously waiting on your command so he could lie down. His eyes sparkle when they land on your figure, and his arms open.

“Snuggle?” He flutters his eyelashes, his blue eyes boring through yours as you sit on his lap.

“Sure.”

“I checked outside of your window. I looked everywhere I could and saw nothing suspicious. I might have scared them off.”

“Maybe you did.”

“Do I get a reward?”

“Do you deserve one?”

“But… I protected you! I made sure any scary people left you alone. They won’t dare try anything while I’m here.”

“I was teasing you, Ren.”

“Oh…”

“You’re such a good boy. You do everything you can to help me.”

“Don’t say things like that…!” His face lights up a bright shade of red, eyes snapping to the side to avoid your gaze.

“Why are you so cute?” 

“Dunno… Why are you so beautiful? You are an angel. My angel.” Ren trails off, propping himself above you while your body is crushed to the mattress. “Mine.”

Your face is held in his palms, his eyes laced with nothing but adoration as they analyse you. He was tracing every detail of your face, trailing down your body, and stopping in their tracks when he felt a tug on the sleeve of his turtleneck. As he redirects his gaze back up to your face, he notices how your hand sneakily wrapped itself in his hair and edged him closer towards you.

He can never get used to this. The way you kiss him first destroys him. If he wasn’t desperate enough before, he is now. After recollecting his thoughts, he nips at your bottom lip and grants himself more access to your mouth, taking control from here. His pretty girl shouldn’t have to put all the work in.

“Can I…?” Ren mumbles into your mouth before pulling away, the string of saliva keeping you both connected. He twangs the waistband of your shorts, his index finger tracing swirls on your exposed stomach.

“Yeah…”

“I’ll be gentle. I know you haven’t been feeling your best, so let me do everything today. I just wanna take your mind off of things. I want you to be happy again.”

“I am happy when I’m with you. You make me feel safe.”

“…?” Ren halts, his hair brushing against your leg as he stares up at you from between your thighs.

“You mean a lot to me, Ren. More than you think. You drop everything for me when I need you most—no one has ever valued me that much before.”

“It will always be you above anything else. Nothing will ever be more important than you.” He slides down your panties, revealing the mess before him. 

“I love you.” Ren uttered, planting kisses down your inner thigh.

It went unheard, exactly as he was hoping it would. His words were mumbled as he delved in between your folds, his tongue exploring you frantically as if it were his first time. Your cunt was familiar with him now. His tongue traced the shape of a heart on your clit, then repeated similar motions until he watched your eyes flicker shut.

“Keep them open, please…” Ren laces his hand with yours, giving it a firm squeeze.

He wants you to watch everything he does, wants you to remember who made you feel so good.

Your hips buck forward, accidentally pressing yourself even closer to him. His hands wrapped around your thighs, holding you firmly in place while he savored your taste. No other reward could compare to this. The thought that you were this wet because of him riles him up. He made you this way, no one else. 

Slipping two fingers into your entrance, he remains gentle like he had promised. He was relishing in your reactions, slowly bringing you closer to an orgasm, then taking it away by altering his rhythm. It’s not that he doesn’t want you to cum for him—it’s that he doesn’t want this to end. For the past few days he hasn’t seen you face to face; he had craved this exact encounter.

Your walls tighten around him, an indicator that you won’t be able to hold on much longer, but he doesn’t slow down. He’s lost in your taste, entranced by the way you push yourself against him, allowing him to ravish you as if you were his last meal. The longer he goes, the sloppier he gets. Due to the grip you have on his hair, it became quite messy—the strays flying freely.

“I’m so close, Ren…” You whine, letting his name roll off of your tongue a few more times. Your eyes have grown hazy, unable to take them off him.

“Then cum for me. It’s my reward after all…”

Hearing his words pushed you, causing the cord building intricately inside of you to snap. You muffled your moan, forgetting the time and the likelihood of your neighbours attempting to get rest. The last thing you need is a visit from security due to a noise complaint. Ren pulls back, sliding his fingers from your cunt and wiping any fluid that smeared on his face away.

There was something odd about him. Whether it be the dark lighting or that look in his eyes—there was a different energy surrounding him. He likes the fingers that have been inside of you, sending a shudder down his spine. 

“What…? Do you want a taste too? I don’t mind sharing if it’s with you.” Ren pouts, extending his fingers to brush across your lips, smearing your slick across them.

“You’re looking at me all funny. Is there something wrong?” Ren’s once smug demeanour disappears, his hand patting his face while you shake your head.

“You’re so handsome. I’m so lucky.”

“…!” Ren leans forward, his breath hitching as if he were in disbelief.

“I was jealous when that girl was all over you in that store. Really jealous. I don’t know what we are or if we even are an official thing, but I know I would love to be your real girlfriend.”

“Angel…” Ren murmurs, utter disbelief upon him as he tries to get his words out. “You’re going to make me cry— in a good way… A really good way! I never knew—”

“Can you stay over more often?” Your eyes water, locking with Ren’s teary pair.

“I’ll stay over whenever you want, all you have to do is ask. I can’t believe this is actually… Do you know— Ugh. I can’t get my words out, why now?” Ren mopes due to his poor communication, but your chuckle grants him enough reassurance to continue trying.

“I was hoping you felt the same way I did, but I didn’t want to force anything on you. I’m sorry things have been so confusing between us. If I would’ve known, I would’ve made it all so much clearer.”

“Does this mean we’re officially dating?”

“I suppose… but, if you want the truth, we already were a long time ago in my mind. My eyes have only been on you. They always will be. They always have been…”

“Hm?” You rub your thumb over his knuckles, curious to hear what he said.

“Nothing, I’m just rambling on, typical me…” Ren beams, nestling his head down onto your chest. “It feels nice to know you’re only mine now.”

“Did you think I wanted anyone else?”

“No… but! That doesn’t stop people from wanting you. They can’t have you, so I win.”

“You seem very proud of yourself.”

“I am. I’m an even prouder boyfriend knowing you’re the one I have.”

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

“Huh?” Ren lifts his head, his brows furrowed.

“I didn’t have the chance to give you any pleasure.”

“I had lots, don’t worry. Seeing you like that was enough for me.”

“Did you…?” You raise an eyebrow, squinting your eyes as your inquisitive nature piques.

“…” Ren’s cheeks light up, already aware of what you are insinuating. “Well— Yes! How couldn’t I? You’re just soo pretty, and you were moaning my name in that whiny voice, and—”

“It’s okay; you don’t need to explain. Do you want to clean yourself up?”

“M’ too sleepy. I’ll take a shower in the morning and sort everything out then.”

“I’ll make sure to wake you up nice and early with me in that case.”

Accepting defeat at the early rise, Ren groans and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. His body is sprawled out on top of yours, his limbs snuggling you tightly. There is no chance of you escaping him in the night with his sheer strength, you would need to be plied off of him to be free again. Before you know it, your eyes unwillingly close and your heart sinks with his, blissfully falling into a slumber together.

[justauthoring]

BLUE LOCK - COMING TO HIS GAME FOR THE FIRST TIME!

includes: bachira meguru, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin all x fem!reader

a/n: ill tell you what i cannot decide on a theme format to save my life :P

BACHIRA MEGURU:

He’s been asking you for a while.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go, but the timing had just never lined up.

Of course Bachira has never been anything but understanding; if there’s anyone who can understand how busy schedules can get, it’s him.

So, he’s never gotten mad or ever held it against you but you also aren’t oblivious to the way his shoulders deflate every time you have to tell him you can’t make it.

The hopeful light in his eyes washes away instantly and the forced smile on his lips does little to make you feel any less guilty -- even if rationally you knew it wasn’t your fault, you didn’t like making Bachira upset.

So, when it turned out his next game matched up with a day off, you were ecstatic. 

Except, you wanted to surprise him and so when he asked you, you said no again, this time regarding his frown and disappointment with excitement blooming in your chest in anticipation for how he’d look when you’d in fact be there, in the stands, cheering for him.

With Isagi’s help you’re able to borrow his extra jersey, making sure to wear it loud and proud when you make your way to the stands. Isagi had helped you get a seat nice and close to front, a spot that would be easy for Bachira to spot even in the midst of playing, surrounded by others, in a large field.

He’d see you.

And the second he walks out onto the field, mindlessly chatting to Isagi and Nagi, the former nudges his shoulder lightly before gesturing ahead of himself.

Bachira’s eyes lock onto you almost instantly.

It takes him no time whatsoever and the second he does, there’s a beaming smile curling onto his lips that practically lit up the whole arena. You can see the twinkle in his eyes as you move to your feet, waving your hands wildly and jumping up and down to make sure he can see you even if it’s already obvious he can.

Nagi teases him but Bachira hardly minds -- the sight of you at one of his games is something he’s been dreaming about for months and with the added fact that you’re wearing his jersey?

Bachira’s so happy he feels like nothing can stop him.

That point is further proved when he scores three goals all on his own, winning the game with his last goal.

He’s practically on fire.

Not a single person is able to stop Bachira that day, and every time he looks out into the crowd to find you, wearing his jersey and screaming his name -- his passion is renewed tenfold.

After that, you make sure to go to every single one of his games you possibly can, always clad in his jersey and screaming his name at the top of your lungs.

NAGI SEISHIRO:

He’s never really asked.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to come or thinks that you didn’t either, but he also felt like it’d be a hassle to ask and even more of one for you to go out of your way to come.

Nagi knows your busy and he doesn’t want to pressure you, so he just never asks.

But you’ve been waiting for him to ask.

At first you’d thought he was just shy or maybe uncomfortable with it, so you’d just left it alone, thinking that he’d eventually gather up the courage to ask you, especially when your guys’ relationship started to develop and turn more serious.

Then, when he still hadn’t asked months into your relationship, you tried dropping subtle comments -- dropping hints here and there with the intention to show to him you were curious on going.

You knew how big of a deal soccer was to Nagi, even if he tried to say otherwise. It was hard for Nagi to be passionate in anything so the effort and dedication he puts into his career is enough to know that he clearly cares, and you want him to share that with you.

You want to be there for him. Want to watch him do something he clearly loves so much.

It takes a year into your relationship for you to say something.

“Why don’t you want me to go to one of your games?”

Nagi? Confused.

“Huh?”

Turns out it was one big misunderstanding.

Once you learn it wasn’t that Nagi didn’t want you to come and rather he just didn’t want to be a hassle, and Nagi learned that you very much did want to go and it wouldn’t be a hassle at all -- the solution was easy.

He gets you a seat up close, almost secluded off to yourself and close enough to be able to watch Nagi easily the entire game.

He wants to say he’s embarrassed when you come adorned in his jersey and his number painted on your face, but he’d be lying if he said he was (even as his teammates tease him about it endlessly).

Truthfully, it makes his heart flutter and his chest feel tight at the fact that you’d put so much effort into coming to his game and making sure everyone knew who you were there for.

After that, Nagi practically drags you to every one of his games.

Doesn’t give you an option in it either. You’re coming.

Makes sure to point you out to his teammates even though they all know who you are.

“Y/N’s here, see? She’s the one in my jersey.”

“Yes, Nagi. I literally said hi to her earlier.”

Needless to say, Nagi loves having you there.

ITOSHI RIN:

Simply doesn’t think he needs you there.

If you came, he wouldn’t care and the fact that you don’t, he doesn’t care either.

Or so he thinks.

You know Rin well enough to know this so you don’t press it either way.

Rin likes to have his space and you’re happy enough to give it to him; you get to hear him talk about games afterwards anyways and it makes you happy that he chooses to share that part of his life with you so you just let things be.

Until a friend of yours mentions that she’s going to a game and has an extra ticket and “oh. Doesn’t your boyfriend play for T/N as well?”

So you join her.

Rin doesn’t even notice you until half way through the game when he receives a rather harsh shove from a teammate telling him he swears he just saw you in the stands.

He goes to deny it until he turns his head and sure enough, there you are in the midst of the crowd. You’re close enough to Rin to spot, but you’re in the midst of the stands, leaned over slightly as your friends whispers something into your ear.

You meet his eyes in the next second, offering a nervous smile and a wave.

Rin can’t explain it, he really can’t make senses of it--he’d always thought he didn’t really care about you being at one of his games. That, while he loved you, you’d be a distraction that he didn’t need.

But seeing you there? Knowing you’re watching him?

It feels like all he can feel is your eyes on him, even amongst the hundreds in the crowd, on him all game; following his every move, watching him. He can hear you cheering for him when he makes a goal or an impressive tactic. 

It enlightens something in him he hadn’t thought possible.

It isn’t just that you helped him do better -- that having you there made him play better. It was just the fact that you were there, watching him doing something he loved and was so so passionate about; cheering for him, simply there for him.

It’s a feeling Rin hadn’t thought he was capable of, but it isn’t something he wants to lose.

So next time there’s a game, he approaches you, a ticket in hand and his extra jersey in the other.

“I want you to come to my game... w-wearing this.”

You don’t hesitate to say yes, and that makes Rin’s heart flutter in a way he hadn’t thought possible.

Now he doesn’t even have to ask -- every time he has a game approaching, it’s a known fact and a wordless affair as he hands you a ticket and you beam up at him, all bright eyed and cheery saying you can’t wait.

[r0-boat]

Love your work I just read your poly wrio neuvi a/b/o with reader and it was so good! Could we get a part two of more information? Like what is it like when readers in heat or when wrio has his rut. Your writing is ❤️❤️

Yes I can totally do a part two!

Alpha Wriothesley x omega reader x alpha Neuvillette headcannons part 2

Nsfw

Author's notes:

I usually try not to give reader too much headcanons because I want to leave just enough wiggle room for you guys to imagine your own scenarios but in this one ill add more

Wriothesley does behave(ish)during his ruts. That doesn't mean he wants to, though... If anything he just gets more possessive and touchy. However when you are the overseer and warden of an entire prison you have to at least keep yourself sane till the end of your shift.

Wriothesley The first thing he does when he gets home is rip off your clothes. His hunger for sex is unlimited always down to fuck Even when he's buried in paperwork.(maybe that's the reason why his ruts aren't that bad? Or maybe he's just good at hiding it ;) )

Wriothesley is an alpha and seems dominant, but he likes being a pillow princess. He likes laying down and having you play with him till he's had enough, then he flips you over and takes control.

While Neuvillette smells like rainwater in a forest, Wriothesley smells like the sea with a hint of a floral sense of whatever tea he had that day mixed with his cologne. And he is shameful about presenting his scent as powerful and prideful; he does not use scent blockers at all. He's a prideful Alpha and likes presenting even more so now that he knows that even Neuvillette turns his head to it.

Wriothesley's scent blends so well with the sea water and the fortress that the only ones who can successfully pick it out are the inmates and his partners, while he lays undetected by outsiders as long as he's in the fortress that is. He does not mind his powerful scent in fact he prefers it. Keeps people obedient, not wanting to do stupid shit. As soon as they smell him coming around, They immediately straighten out their backs and cower.

They will never know how much of a sweetheart your partner actually is.

And then there's you. During your heat You are the only one that can sedate Wriothesley's large sexual appetite and still come your other partner for more. Bratty yet obedient just the way Wriothesley likes it.

Though he cannot help but joke about how good and obedient you are with Neuvillette and not him. Which Neuvillette is quick too crack a smile and say "You just need to train them better."

And when your heat strikes, you're even more unsatiable. But that's probably because your heat's hurt so damn much that you could hardly even think. Well, it's good thing You're two partners like it a little rougher. Your heat's hit you like a train. Once you can feel your pre-heat, you only have a matter of time before it hits you. The next day, He will be feeling whimpering and pulling while trying to give one of your partners a surprise awakening.

Your body is super hot yet cold screaming at you too seek the warmth of your partners. And how busy they can be the only thing that can sedate you or toys until one of them gets home. And when they do... You will rejoice in the dicking you will receive.

Neuvillette has tried to urge you to take suppressants because he hates seeing you hot and writhing, almost in pain. But he understands when you say no because after suppressants, it will just get worse.

Your scent is a calming lavender. You're like catnip to your overworked partners rubbing against you and bearing their face in your neck, holding you close. You can practically hear them purring like kittens. It's cute until you are being crushed by two big men who haven't slept in days.

[pomefioredove]

please, PLEASE write a rollo x reader fic where rollo wakes up from a nightmare about his brother and where there to comfort him PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏🙏

let it be known that the only reason I started playing this game was because they added frollo. rollo is like a cryptid in the HoND fandom

summary: nightmares and comfort type of post: fic characters: rollo additional info: romantic, established relationship?, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, not proofread, rollo vaguely implied to have ptsd because I do and am a scholar in trauma nightmares ^-^

There's a certain point at which bad dreams and reality melt together.

Where the line blurs, and you can't be sure where the nightmare ends and you begin. They so often feel one in the same.

Rollo is familiar with bad dreams.

At one point, he thought there would be a solution. Something to hold them back, to release him from their sticky grasp. He journaled, for a while, but all that brought him was grief.

It happens like clockwork.

Four or five nightmares in one rest, for one to two weeks, at the same time every year. He keeps track of them. How could he not?

They culminate on a certain day, one he dreads in and of itself, and then slowly, painfully die off, leaving him wounded and alone.

It's dreadful.

And it's worse that he knows exactly why they happen.

You had once asked him what keeps him up at night, as a sort of conversation starter when you were first getting to know each other. What a strange question to ask someone, and in such a light-hearted tone.

He told you he sees no use for excess sleep when he can be diligent, instead.

Sloth is a vice, he said. Detestable.

You seemed to accept that as an answer, much to his relief. The truth was far too ugly for someone as pure as you to shoulder. He was only protecting your feelings, after all. And perhaps his.

Rollo hoped, for your sake, that you wouldn't notice. He was still getting used to the idea of sleeping beside another person, and the very last thing he wanted was to burden you with all of what he is.

To put it plainly, he didn't want to scare you off.

The first few nights were easy enough. Nasty imagery wrapped up in otherwise normal dreams, those of which could hardly be considered nightmares.

He'd wake up in a cold sweat, and toss and turn until he could manage to fall back asleep, never stirring you.

This time is different.

He wakes, not quite jolting, but certainly thrashing himself back into the present moment like an animal caught in a trap.

His eyes snap open, and there's nothing but darkness, his breathing, and the uneasy feeling of his stomach. It takes a moment for him to adjust to his surroundings.

You're still asleep. Thankfully.

He liked to keep some distance between the two of you, anyway. Rollo had to ease himself into the idea of being physically close with someone without being utterly repulsed.

The only reason he'd entertained the idea in the first place was because it's you, you, pure and good, who would never do anything to discomfort him, you, who even now, sleeps like an angel in his bed.

There's something unclean about that thought, although it's not your doing.

Rollo gets up, careful not to disturb you, and paces around the room while he tries to get ahold of reality. He reminds himself of the date, the time, his full name, anything that will shake the lingering terror coursing through is body.

He does not cry. He hasn't since...

Well. Never mind, that.

Now is not the time to make a fuss. He's not a child, he's not fragile, he can handle his own nightmares without needing someone to tuck him back in.

The dream was so terrifyingly, disgustingly real, though.

The nightmares which aren't nightmares are the worst sorts of dreams, because he instantly feels silly for scaring himself over something so mundane, even if that looming sense of dread and fear still makes him feel ill.

This one was but a normal conversation, with...

...He didn't want to remember it.

The point was more so that it felt so utterly real that waking up like this, having it fall apart around him like the rotting pages of an old book, was like having his head dunked in freezing cold water repeatedly.

Not a pleasant feeling.

He paces, back and forth, in front of the now-dead fireplace, trying to regain his bearings.

He's quiet; he so often is; and yet, still, roused either by the sound of his footsteps or the heavy, uncomfortable feeling in the air, you wake.

The sound of your voice nearly scares him.

Rollo turns to you, eyes wide as you sit up, drawing your knees to your chest. "What?"

"I asked if you're okay," you repeat, turning to the space beside you to check the time. "It's two in the morning."

His answer is immediate, as calm as he can muster, although there's a faint crack in his voice on the last word. "I'm well. I was just thinking,"

"Thinking? Now?"

He nods, and turns back to the mantle. His arms are crossed over his chest, acting as a sort of armor, protecting him.

You tilt your head to the side. "Did you have a bad dream?"

He hates how perceptive you can be, sometimes. It takes him a moment to think of a suitable answer- is it worth telling you the truth?

"I have bad dreams all the time," you say. "Like... all the time. Weird ones, too. It's nothing to be embarrassed a-"

"I am not embarrassed," he snaps, whirling around on his heels to face you. His tone softens when he sees the perplexed expression on your face. "I was just trying to tire myself before returning to bed. I didn't want to disturb you."

You shake your head. "I wouldn't have minded if you did. I understand... do you want to talk about it?"

He's silent, looking away again, which is enough of an answer to you.

"Then will you at least come back to bed?"

Rollo supposes he should. He doesn't want to risk worrying you any further. That would only stir up more questions.

He settles himself in bed, lying flat on his back with his arms crossed over his chest, more cadaver than human. You always found that position so amusing, for whatever reason, and even now you can't contain a laugh.

"Are you cold? You're shaking,"

Damn it. He is. He hadn't even noticed... and though his tremors aren't from the temperature, he agrees with you anyway.

"Yes. It's rather cold tonight,"

You hum a small note of contemplation and inch closer to him. "May I?"

Rollo's face immediately turns red, although he can't help but indulge himself... just this once. For your sake, anyway.

He nods.

You come closer, resting your head on his shoulder and putting an arm around his waist in the most comfortable position you can manage while he's lying like this.

Your body is warm, soft, comforting... all things that would normally repulse him, but it's you...

He pats the back of your hand with one of his in a reassuring, though awkward gesture. As much as he expected to feel his heart pounding even harder at your closeness, there's something quite... safe about the embrace. He can't deny it.

"Good night," you murmur, already half-asleep.

He closes his eyes, allowing his body to relax... just the tiniest bit.

"Good night,"

[valtsv]

if you dont mind sharing, can you talk more about your experience being haunted?

well it was definitely influenced by my paranoid delusions, but after i watched the chernobyl hbo miniseries back when it came out i developed this fixation on the idea that i was being haunted by the judgemental spectres of the real people who'd died in that disaster. it was so real to me that i couldn't even take a shower without feeling like they were in there with me somehow, just silently watching. i started showering in my clothes and barely slept at night because i was certain that there were eyes on me as i lay there, crowded around me. i hardly left the house because i couldn't bear to bring this congregation of ghosts i'd gathered anywhere and try to pretend that nothing was wrong.

i was terrified and visibly unwell but i didn't feel like i could tell anyone or it'd be a betrayal somehow. i didn't think the ghosts would harm me if i did, i wasn't scared that they had any ill intentions towards me at all, but i felt so unbearably guilty at the idea of exposing them to anyone and forcing them to be a spectacle. i think that might have been what induced the delusion in the first place; my guilt at participating in that spectacle (ironic considering i'm obsessed with the terror now, and historical rpf is an ethical minefield but hardly the root of all evil). that and a combination of extreme stress and isolation convincing me that my entire flat was haunted because i would hear noises at night with no discernable source coming from the other rooms - voices and music and activity, despite all my roommates being on holiday and denying anything when i asked them.

i didn't know what they wanted from me, but i eventually started to try to accept that it was irrational to feel so much guilt for an event that happened before i was even born and had no possible way of preventing or changing the outcome of, and the haunted feeling stopped bothering me so much. that's why i think that ghosts are psychological manifestations of emotion, especially guilt and grief. you can be haunted without it necessarily being supernatural in nature. and to me, those ghosts were real and very much present. they were never visible, but their presence was overwhelming. it feels like an insult to myself to deny that they had a real effect on me, even if they were just a delusion, and that's what a ghost is to me.

[biwitchenergyz]

A House of Blood and Fire

Chapter One: The Heirs of the Dragon

<-Teaser Next Chapter->

In the future, many years from now, when you await the gods of old Valyria or even the Stranger (hopefully on your deathbed), you may look back on the choices you have made and wonder where you went wrong. Perhaps your death will be less peaceful, perhaps it will be bloody, but you hope that whatever gods watched over you were not the merciless ones Queen Alicent Hightower often wept too.

The world is silent, your room is quiet, and you know the sun will shine soon. Not that the sun has ever done anything good for you. Most people fear the dark but forget all the snakes who love to bask in the sun's light. You often find yourself surrounded by those very snakes, but now, sitting alone in your chambers on Dragonstone, you wonder if the sun purposefully evades the gloomy island. Your lady's smooth voice accompanies the squeak of your door opening.

"Darling girl, I hoped we could talk before our departure." Princess Rhaenyra hardly asked for company; she was surrounded by people at all times, whether that be her children, her lovers, or her court. When she wanted to speak with someone, it was an honor that few could refuse. She moves to sit beside you. Her nightgown is sheer and delicate, with its lacey decorations pooling at her feet as she lifts them onto your bed.

"I was worried that this trip may take a toll on you," Rhaenyra whispers when she is finally sitting at your side, "If you want to stay back, I am sure my father would understand." The silence speaks for itself when Rhaenyra finally hears the irony of her words.

When has Viserys ever been understanding of you? Though the two of you were cousins, his age made him dismissive and ignorant of your plight as a young woman, while his gender gave him a sense of superiority that oozed from his every word. Rhaenyra was lucky to be his eldest daughter because she alone was immune to his cruelty.

"Viserys has been asking me to return, and now he demands it. Even you cannot protect me from that." The older woman's eyes soften at your cynical words. Your arrival at court was, unfortunately, amidst a troubling time for House Targaryen. The Princess and the Queen were constantly at odds, and it seemed that their children were following in their footsteps. With the court jester banished and the king's mood souring, you made for a perfect scapegoat. Had your mother, Saera, been living, she would never have allowed your humiliation. But she was gone, and her reputation fell like an anchor on your head.

"For the past four years, I have found any excuse to keep us on Dragonstone. First, it was my pregnancies, then Daemon’s injury, and Luke’s sickness. I am sorry that my father was not kind to you. However, he has grown ill, and his mind has been sullied with milk of the poppy. All my father wants is to see his family again. We have missed four of his birthdays, and I fear there may not be another. We will leave at dawn." Rhaenyra left no room for argument, so you let the discussion drop. Your mind returns to the reason you must sail for the Red Keep.

"The boat ride will take longer than Dragonback. I may miss dinner entirely." You warn Rhaenyra as she prepares to leave your bed chamber. She turns then, the realms delight, with the brightest smile you had ever seen as she laughed, "There is more than enough room for you on Syrax." Then she left as the sun seeped in through your windows.

• • • • • • •

In the end, you refuse to ride on Dragonback. You have declined it during all the years you have lived in Westeros. The boat ride is hardly uncomfortable, but as you watch Syrax's daisy-colored form fly over you, you wonder about the freedom you miss. Occasionally, the Velaryon boys will fly their dragons down closer toward the water, and your boat shakes at the power of their dragons' flapping wings. Even young dragons have that power. During the journey, Rhaenyra and her family split from you as they head towards King's Landing, and for a while, you are left with only yourself and the Princesses' other ladies as company. "Sit down, Princess. Join us in crafting our favors. You will become seasick if you stand so much." Elinda Massey lectures as you stand staring out the window of the old ship.

Elinda, with her dark hair and darker eyes, never fails to worry. She awoke in the morning with worries, and every night; she went to sleep worrying about how much Rhaenyra and her children ate at dinner and whether or not they would be starving. Her worries for the royal family also extend to you; even the old king's exiled granddaughter was worth her many troubles. Despite being your age and both of you being the youngest of Rhaenyra’s ladies, Elinda had a pious nature that led to her acting as a mother for the other girls, yourself included.

"Lady Massey, I can assure you I will be fine standing. The ship should dock soon anyway." Elinda frowned at your response, but she knew better than to argue with you when your mind was made.

You hurry to the deck of the ship, hoping to see King's Landing in all its glory, when your eye is caught by the enormous shadow that hovers above your boat. A dragon, as dark as an emerald and as giant as the Dragonpit, flies above you with a slow flap of its wings. Vhagar, you think you knew that dragon by heart and the old beast had not changed in the years since you left. Her rider may not be on her back, but you feel like he is for a second, his eyes piercing you from a place hidden from your view. Myranda Strong, with her twin Alyssa, approaches you from behind.

"Lady Massey is talking to the captain. The princess will send us a carriage, but we will still need someone to bring our luggage." Myranda tells you as her eyes also lift to watch Vhagar. Alyssa ignores the dragon, focused on the men preparing to moor the ship.

True to her word, Rhaenyra has sent a carriage for the four of you. It is grander than most carriages but still simple enough in its design to reflect your status as ladies-in-waiting. Inside the carriage, you bump into Alyssa at every dip in the road, but she merely smiles. "The men of the Red Keep will be a great exchange for those in DragonStone. New faces are just the change I need." She laughs with you as you agree to her lust-filled words. "It is the eldest prince that I am most excited to see. The rumors say that were he not a prince; he would certainly be the lover of a Lysinian mistress, or worse, a madame." You go silent at her words, but Elinda quiets the other girl.

"I can assure you we will not be anywhere near the drunkard prince." Her words are brusque, and they silence Alyssa for the rest of the ride. The silence is deafening until the other strong girl finds her voice. "Where is Saagael, my princess?" Myranda asks you even though her dark eyes are locked on her sister. You cannot stop your smile at the mention of your beloved pet. "He will be brought with our luggage. I had to cage him for the journey so the Hand would not know his presence. Saagael is not supposed to be here." You whisper the words with delight as you discuss how you have snuck your cat into King's Landing. Your company finds humor in this, but the rest of the ride is silent until the carriage doors open, and Rhaenyra takes your hand to help you step safely onto the dirt.

"My Princess! You did not need to come get us." Lady Massey exclaims in delight as Rhaenyra helps her down as well. "I thought that at least the four of you should receive a warm welcome. It seems that courtesy is not felt amongst the court." Rhaenyra sneers before she links your arms and leads you through the halls of the red keep. In the light of the setting sun, the halls look more burgundy than the bright red they are known for. Rhaenyra is silent as you both walk arm-in-arm through the bustling castle.

Servants, nobles, and knights alike stop to stare at the Heir and the formerly exiled princess. It has been many years since the Realm's Delight has been home. They watch her with curious glances, trying to dissect this new woman who walks amongst them. Has the Realm's delight turned cruel, or does she remain the sweet girl beloved by all? You can see the hesitance in their eyes as they bow to her passing figure. Rhaenyra, for the most part, ignores all the attention as she begins to tell you what has transpired today.

"A meager servant was sent to greet us. Our first homecoming in five years and we are treated like mere ambassadors. However, I believe that even ambassadors are treated better. I expected to see my father upon my return, but the king is not currently receiving company. Otto Hightower has practically barred the doors to my father's chambers. " The princess can't help but ramble. It is something she often does in your company for whatever reason. You think it is because, despite her estrangement from her siblings, she craves a relationship of equals rather than one of husband and wife or mother and child. She has always been alone in ways her sons and husband never have. The thought tugs at your heartstrings, and your grip on her arm tightens. "I am sure he will be at the tourney. It is in his name, is it not?" You try to ease her stress, but when it is time for you to go to your chambers, Rhaenyra keeps her hold on you.

"Will you stay with me? Your support would make this whole thing feel easier." Silence fills the halls outside of your chamber. Her Majesty, Queen Alicent, chose the room assigned to you. It is within a forgotten tower just behind the Royal sept, the only chamber completely secluded. Unlike the towers that occupy the hand and the royal guard, which all contain more than one room, your tower has only one other room relatively distant from your chambers. The royal library is at the end of the hall and one must pass your rooms to get there. Thus, for the most part, your halls are silent. Rhaenyra uses this silence to talk freely, so you do the same.

"My Princess, the children of Her Majesty will also be in attendance. I hardly think I will be any help when I am already so anxious to see them. I haven't been here since Helaena disappeared." You pick at the skin around your nails, a habit inherited from your mother, Saera. Rhaenyra watches you look away from her gaze while shuffling uncomfortably back and forth. Aegon and Aemond Targaryen were your friends once, more Aegon than Aemond. But the night Helaena vanished, many incidents occurred that forced you to flee for DragonStone. Not only had Alicent suspected you of helping Helaena escape, but so did her two oldest sons, and when you left, never to return until now, they grew to resent you. That's what you thought, although you never had any clear evidence besides the heated conversation that night four years ago.

"Darling, I want you there, but I will not beg," Rhaenyra stated plainly. Her royal demeanor inspired you to lift your eyes. Her violet eyes gleamed with a reserved strength that she took no measures to conceal. "I will go." You decided.

• • • • • • •

The tourney was to begin in less than an hour, but first, you wanted to make sure your pet was settling into your chambers. Saagael paced back and forth, his body more extensive than a house cat, as dark as a moonless night sky, and his paws hit the floor like an elephant on the march. “I didn’t want to leave you alone.” You try to reason with the cat, but he will hear nothing of it. He turns to leap onto your chair, making it seem like a doll’s chair with his big body taking over the furniture. His paws knead into the soft fabric, but he does not rip it. You knew the risk of returning him to the red keep would be significant, but you reasoned that he would be safer with you than left alone on Dragonstone. At least here, you could watch him and protect him. The thought of losing your beloved companion was one of the many fears that kept you up at night. Saagael was all you had left of home and your parents; without him, you would be truly lost. Even in moments like this, when his attitude was at its height, you took comfort in his presence.

“Fine. I will bring you a whole salmon from the kitchen! All you have to do is stay here and be good.” You pleaded with the grumpy cat. Saagael’s ears perked up at the mention of his favorite treat. Finally, he left his chair to curl up at your feet. You scratched his neck, making him purr contentedly. With a few more pets, you got up to leave him. As you opened your door, you jumped back in shock at the sight of Alicent Hightower standing outside. Her delicate hand was raised as if she was going to knock upon your door. The both of you seemed startled by the presence of the other, but neither of you spoke for a moment.

Alicent breaks the silence, “You have grown quite a lot in these years.” Her voice is gentle but still royal, showing her hesitance to appear as anything but regal in front of you. “Please do come in, your majesty!” You stumble over yourself to bow appropriately in the older woman's presence. Alicent walks in, taking in the room to find it, the same as when she first had it decorated for you.

Saagael is perched on the bed with no interest in moving, but Alicent strokes his fur, and he suddenly sits up and is very interested in the queen. “Is there a purpose to your visit, my queen?” Slowly, your feet move to the Queen's side while watching her admire your beloved Saagael. “My father hates this cat.” The queen muses instead of answering your question. The room falls to silence again until Alicent finally speaks. “I have been begging Viserys to bring you back home, and finally, you are here. I came to apologize to you, dear girl. When my daughter…left…I placed my blame onto you when you have been nothing but loyal to me and my children since you arrived at the Red Keep. I hope you can forgive me.” She turns to you, and you see the young woman you grew up with, who took you in along with Rhaenyra when you needed guidance.

Her big brown eyes glisten with unshed tears, but over time, you realize that Alicent's eyes are always sad. With a boldness you didn't realize you had, you step forward to grasp the Queen’s hands. “All is forgiven, Your Majesty.” Alicent smiles as she rubs her hand over your own, pausing at the rough skin around your fingernails. It is inflamed from being picked at, and Alicent notices it instantly. Gently, she touches your skin before looking back into your eyes.

“My sons, they have missed you greatly. I know they will be glad to see you. Please forgive them of their standoffish nature.” You nod at her words, knowing you have missed her sons just as much as Helaena. A bell chimes from the royal sept, and its echo fills your quiet room. Alicent responds instantly, dropping your hands and heading to the door before turning and saying, “The king wants his entire family at dinner after the tourney. I hope that you come.” She leaves the room with urgency, and for a fleeting moment, you feel like a twelve-year-old again, spending the winter in the Red Keep playing with Helaena and Aegon while a silent Aemond watches on in Amusement as Alicent gently scolds you and Aegon for roughhousing.

Jace and Luke are the ones who come to escort you to the King’s birthday tourney. You link arms with Jacaerys while Luke fiddles with the ring on his finger. It is a matching one Rhaenyra gave him for his tenth name day, valyrian steel with a single onyx crystal in the middle of the circlet. You all walk in silence, having nothing to say to each other. When you reach the doors that lead into the courtyard, you stop to turn to Luke, who is beginning to look faint. “Luke, you look as though you have seen a ghost. What troubles you?” You rest your hand over his own to stop his fidgeting. Luke smiles at you even though his eyebrows furrow in thought. Jace keeps his hand on your arm but uses his other hand to pat Luke’s back. Then Luke looks up at you with a strange determination on his face. “Are you on our side?” You drop his hands in shock. With a quick glance around, you see that nobody is in the halls besides two guards who stand watch at the doors to the courtyard. You gather the skirts of your dress and bend slightly to come face to face with Luke.

“Little Luke Velaryon, what are you talking about?” The words come out as a whisper, unnoticed by the guards, but Jace and Luke hear them loud and clear, and they do not back down. “Our uncles call us bastards. The whispers of the court say that it is Aegon who should be our grandsire’s heir. Do you stand with us or with them?”

Luke is bolder than Jace. He always has been. Unlike Jacaerys, who strives to be the perfect dignified gentle-lord, Luke is proud like the Velaryons and does not hold his tongue.

“I am my mother's daughter; Saera Targaryen would see no value in such disagreements. I do not wish to fuel a fire that is already roaring. The politics of Westeros are still strange to me, but my position here is not. I have no right to say what should happen to the iron throne, but I assure you that I love you and your mother very much. That is all I can say.” Luke nods, his youthful face looking mature for the first time. He seems as if he will argue, but he holds his tongue because of a lack of response. Jace takes your arm in his again, and as you wait for Rhaenyra and Daemon to join the three of you, Jace talks to you in whispers.

“Even you must feel the division of the court.” He shows no signs of discontent, but Lucereys is still mulling over your response. “Trust that I feel the division like a knife in my back.” Your stare rises to meet his eyes. For a moment, he is silent, but his eyes are loud enough. The conversation ends there as Rhaenyra and Daemon approach to lead the family to their carriages. You watch the doors open but stop before crossing them; Jace pulls you through.

• • • • • • •

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Series Masterlist

Chapter 13

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Night terrors; Mild illness; Minor sexual themes; Allusions to abuse; Mention of scars

A/N: I somehow banged this out with a migraine and a horrible bout of depression, so it may receive further editing. If I change anything major, I’ll highlight it and make it known that there is new content. I’m never confident about my work but even less so this time. This slow-burn is really burning slow because our two damaged, adorable idiots. But they’re making progress! Thanks for sticking with me anyway. 💙

Carol was able to pull Daryl aside early the following morning. When she stopped just below the top step, she could see you were sound asleep on the mattress, curled in on yourself in a way she hadn’t seen for a while. Her heart ached with the knowledge that your trust in her had been damaged, if not destroyed, by two loathsome snakes. 

Beside you, atop a sleeping bag on the floor, Daryl was awake with one arm behind his head while the other hand was busy twirling a bolt between his fingers. He already knew she was there, that came as no surprise. He held a finger to his lips that moved to make a shooing motion as he quietly got to his still booted feet. Carol descended and waited on the bottom step. 

His hand came to rest on the small of her back to guide her to the main door and outside. No way he’d risk anyone overhearing this conversation. 

“What’s up, Pookie?” She grinned at him when he scowled and grumbled under his breath. Why she insisted on calling him that was beyond him. It didn’t make him uncomfortable. Maybe it had just settled into their own form of banter and he didn’t really mind at all. That’s not why he was here though!

Focus, dumbass. “Need ta talk ‘bout Y/N.” He felt his cheeks begin to warm, finding himself pleading with any deity that it was too early and there was too little light for her to see. 

“So I gathered after that hug I saw.” His gaze snapped up to hers, more surprised than angry. She was immediately holding up her hands to bid him pause. “I wasn’t snooping! I had just come inside and you apparently were so wrapped up— literally —that you didn’t notice me.”

He held his intensity briefly before he deflated. “Th’fuck am I doin’, Carol?” He valued her opinion. She hardly ever steered him wrong, fearing he’d be hurt either emotionally or physically and that was not something she was willing to risk. He knew that. 

“I told you before. I think you like her. Here, sit down.” He huffed a breath through his nose but obliged nonetheless, climbing on top of a table with his boots on the bench. Carol took her place beside him. “I think you’re feeling connected with her somehow. Maybe like you and me.”

“Nah. Well…maybe.” He growled and propped his elbows on his knees, his fingers tugging at his hair in frustration. “I know I want ‘er ta be safe, wanna protect ‘er. Feel responsible fer ‘er.”

“If you’re asking my honest opinion, and I think you are or I wouldn’t be out here right now, I don’t think this is a question of responsibility, Daryl.” He let his left hand drop and tipped his head to face her, fingers of his right hand still in his hair. “You want to be her friend and even though she’s scared, she wants that too.”

The archer opened his mouth, only to snap it shut with a clicking of teeth. He suddenly felt self conscious, worried that his best friend, of all people, would judge him for the explicit thoughts he was having about you. He decided quickly that he wouldn’t divulge that portion of his plight. It made most of the conversation asinine but why did he ever think he could fess up to something so perverse? 

“I don’t think spending a little more time with her would be such a bad thing. If anything, maybe you could help her feel safe again.” Carol looked down at her hands, picking idly at her nails. 

“Ya gon’ try n’ patch things up with ‘er?” Truthfully, he was grateful to take the focus off of himself for even a moment. 

Carol nodded, looking out over the trees at the first light of the morning that began to stretch across the sky. “Yeah, I will. Maybe when she’s in a better headspace.” 

Daryl tipped his chin down in a nod, unable to manage any words of support before the prison door burst open. Maggie called out, most likely for him, but he was already moving at the sound of your screams, passing over the threshold in only a few large strides. He cleared two steps at a time on his way up, no hesitation before kneeling beside the mattress. 

Nightmares were a part of trauma with which he was intimately familiar. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Y/N. Wake up, girl.” He made sure not to touch you. The presence of hands on you when caught between awake and asleep after a night terror would result in nothing good. He knew from experience. Your head rolled back and forth, tears cascading down your temples, your face red from screaming though you had quieted to moans and whimpers. 

“She woke up the whole prison.” Carl muttered from beside Rick on the steps, clearly annoyed. 

Distantly, Judith had begun to wail; several voices were raised. Daryl turned toward the audience gathered in his space, the discontentment in his glare enough to send them scattering to do damage control. Carol stayed behind, her presence acting as an anchor when he seemed to falter. 

He blocked out everything else, his entire focus on you. He usually woke from his nightmares on his own and retreated, but watching you struggle— watching you suffer —wasn’t something he could sit idly by and do nothing to at least try and help you. It was a long shot, but he carefully leaned across to where you laid, as close to your ear as he could get without touching, and whispered so low that Carol could only watch his mouth move. 

“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul n’ sings the tune without the words n’ never stops at all.” 

He felt ridiculous once the first word fell from his lips, but when you began to settle, he blinked and watched you for any indication that you would wake or fall back into your terror. You did neither. He was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth when he stood, careful not to disturb the mattress. 

Carol appeared just as surprised. “What’d you say to her?”

It was a reflex to become defensive but the sharp words died on his tongue. Had it been anyone else, surely he wouldn’t have held back. He never meant to be cold or cruel to anyone. It was in his hardwiring, and he had been actively attempting to alter the circuitry since finding a place within the group. 

“Was a, uh…a thing I read once in school. Kinda stuck with me. Ain’t important.” He was scratching the back of his head absentmindedly, more concerned with the flush he knew had assumed residence on his cheeks. 

Carol leaned around him to see you snoring softly. She smirked and patted his cheek, leaving him there to go help with the calamity in the cells. He was chewing his thumbnail seconds after her departure, watching you from the top of the stairs. 

He removed his boots there, afraid the noise would disrupt your newfound peace. A sudden exhaustion settled over him, his sleeping bag feeling like the plushest mattress at the fanciest hotel— not that he knew what that felt like anyway. He assumed it would probably be more of a distraction than a comfort. He’d rather have a cot or the hard ground deep in the wilderness any day. 

Daryl stared at the high ceilings, barely visible in the darkness that had consumed the space without the flashlights and candles of the perturbed residents. Try as he might to focus on the most trivial things, his thoughts continued to circle back to you. 

There was a rustling of fabric and he let his head roll toward the mattress. You had turned toward him, face still relaxed in peaceful slumber. His blue eyes narrowed, the pinched expression he always had when trying to piece something together. Rolling over, he turned his back to you and scrubbed a hand over his face. 

He was beyond fucked. 

Over the span of the next week, you could take apart a gun, clean it, and put it back together. You struggled with remembering the order of reassembling at first but, to your pleasant surprise, Daryl was alarmingly patient. His jaw would tick once in a while, obviously holding back the urge to rush you. You had smiled gratefully, stifling a giggle at his mumbled curse. 

You still hadn’t spoken, aside from the first day in Daryl’s perch. No, not even to him. He didn’t seem to mind but you caught the few times he’d speak and look at you from the corner of his eye, almost like he was hopeful that what he’d said would merit a verbal response. 

Regardless, it was as if your voice had just locked itself away somewhere dark in the fissures scattered across your mind. You were even more damaged, more broken than before. 

When Daryl was leaving to hunt, you tried to follow. It was one of the few times in this new dynamic between the two of you that he seemed to lose the composure he had gradually been building around you. 

“Hell nah! Ain’t takin’ ya out there and babysittin’ ya when ya don’ know shit ‘bout wha’ yer doin’ in here! Get on back inside!” 

You flinched away with your lip quivering. He didn’t apologize. With a growl of annoyance, he yelled for the gate to be opened and stomped into the forest. His demeanor was different when he returned, a few rabbits in hand. After prepping and dropping off his kills with Carol, he approached you and said it was time for you to become familiar with a gun. 

You thought that pointing and firing was the jist of it. You couldn’t have been more wrong. Just like the ‘stab and pull’ at the fence, you would now ‘disassemble and reassemble’. It wasn’t clear to you why learning this step was important but if Daryl was uncompromising in teaching you, then you would learn. 

You worked hard to familiarize yourself with the weapons, scrutinizing each surface, weighing them in your hands, meticulously examining the parts to see how they fit together. You’d catch the archer watching you while he busied himself with other projects; sharpening his knives, carving bolts, tending to his crossbow. There were a few times that you could have sworn you’d seen him smile. 

The man had become a steady presence, allowing you to follow him and learn the more hands-on aspects of protecting the prison. Once you had healed and felt like accompanying him outside, he had trained you for another day with your knife before allowing you to start helping him clear the fences daily. The meals he didn’t skip were spent eating silently beside you, disappearing long before you had finished. He showered daily, sometimes twice. You overheard Maggie and Carol make mention of how they’d never seen him so adamant to remain clean. At the end of the day, sometimes he’d join you in the perch. Other times, you fell asleep alone.

Those nights were when the men that had hurt you would penetrate your dreams, painting them thickly with a suffocating shroud of black and gray. They would corner you, reach out with their filthy fingers like claws, and you’d cower in anticipation of the pain. Always before a single inch of your skin could be marred, a wall erected itself in front of you, protecting you. A warmth would seep from the structure, enveloping you in a safety that forced the darkness from your dreams. You would wake up feeling rested but always still alone. 

Daryl, on the other hand, always looked tired. The days he appeared haggard and sluggish were when his patience flagged. He would raise his voice before he would seemingly think better of it, walk a short distance away for a cigarette, and return with that kindness again present in his exhausted gaze. 

Today was one of those days. 

You hadn’t done anything to set him off, simply cleaning the .22 pistol he’d given you while he sat on the other end of the picnic bench hunched over the table. He didn’t look at you or even check your progress, simply sitting with his elbows on the table and a hand on each side of his head. It was likely better to leave him be, just continue with your task. Attempting to engage him would most certainly lead to nothing good. 

Then he coughed. 

You made quick work of the reassembling, placed the weapon down on the cloth, and folded your hands on your lap, eyeing the archer for several minutes before he noticed no sound coming from your side of the table. Daryl dropped a hand to the flat surface and squinted red-rimmed eyes at you. He was quite pale compared to just that morning when you’d found him outside. He didn’t seem like he was sick very often. Maybe battered, bruised, and bloody but not sick. 

You pursed your lips and slid down the bench, stopping across from him to lean forward with your arms folded on the table. 

“Wha’re ya doin’?” His voice was more raspy than usual, a rougher edge that sounded uncomfortable. Your head tilted even though he seemed less than thrilled to be under your scrutiny. “G’on. Work on the gun.” He rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger, a deep sigh shifting into another cough. Daryl turned his face into his elbow and waved you toward the other side. 

You refused to budge. 

“S’wrong with ya? Got a hearin’ prob—” You could see the moment he caught himself and reined in the hostility. “Jus’ take the day. Ya done good. Work on handlin’ the thing tomorrow.” The hunter didn’t wait for you to move. Probably just assumed you would. With his arms now folded similarly to your own, he laid his forehead on top of them with a groan. 

Your concern only grew when he didn’t sense you were still present. With a deep breath, you slid back over to grab the cloth and gun, tucking the weapon into the waistband of your jeans and the cloth into your back pocket. You would be lying if you didn’t admit to feeling a small amount of anxiety while approaching him. You needed to repeatedly remind yourself that it was Daryl and he would never hurt you. 

When close enough, you placed a hesitant palm against the back of his head. The archer flinched and quickly bolted upright, startling you in the process. 

“Th’fuck, Y/N?” He barked hoarsely. Your smaller hand wrapped around his wrist, fingers loose on the too warm skin in case he pulled away. You motioned for him to follow you with the slightest tug of his arm. He was definitely confused but without knowing what you needed, he followed obediently. Your hand remained around his wrist. 

The gloom inside the prison only made Daryl look worse. He was clearly exhausted and battling what seemed to be a cold. Hopefully nothing more than that. He said nothing as you guided him up the stairs and stepped out of his way upon reaching the top. Brow knitted, he pressed the heel of his left hand against his forehead. 

“Gon’ explain or ‘m I gettin’ three guesses?” His voice strained at the end when he tried and failed to subdue a cough. Ducking your head to catch his eye after the spell, you pointed to the mattress. “Huh?”

You deadpanned. Daryl was anything but dense. He had to be sick if he wasn’t understanding what you were trying to accomplish. You realized that your hand still held his wrist and walked backwards to urge him along, stepping up onto the mattress with what you hoped was an encouraging smile. 

Daryl did not appear to be encouraged. Wide blue eyes vibrated as he attempted to look between your own. “Y/N.” He was gentle when he extricated his arm, stepping backward with a shake of his head. 

It was your turn to be confused. You simply wanted to get him to lie down on the— oh. It started as a giggle but soon you were actually laughing, damn near startling yourself. The befuddled alarm he was wearing so exposedly gradually recast to a warm focus. You placed your palms flat together and positioned the back of a hand against your cheek with a tilt of your head, closing your eyes. 

The archer’s mouth formed a silent ‘o’, his face taking on a pink hue that you definitely noticed before he ducked his head and knelt to pull the laces on his boots. It was possibly the first time you would attach the word adorable to any description of the man in front of you. Daryl was quick to redirect your regard with a finger toward your own boots on the mattress. Biting your bottom lip to stifle a grin, you hopped off, removed the gun from your waistband, and plopped onto the sleeping bag. 

“Yer stayin’?” 

You stared, incredulous. Of course you were staying. He was sick, no matter how mild. He had stayed with you while you recovered. Why wouldn’t you return the favor? You nodded and patted the mattress. 

There was an obvious uncertainty in his approach, movements hesitant, deliberate, as if you would spook and bolt. You wished you could find it in you to speak, to reassure him you were okay and you wanted to stay. 

Your confusion regarding the archer was slowly resolving into a confident trust. You were still plagued with doubt and sometimes overwhelmed with questioning curiosity that would result in a reluctance to be near him. It was that gentle luster that would appear in those pretty eyes, subtle and carefully concealed behind an opacity but easily discernible by someone who had been shown nothing by cold cruelty continually for so long, that would coerce you to stay. There was so much more to Daryl than he allowed the world to see. 

He sighed when he finally allowed the side of his face to sink into the pillow, turning his head to cough into the softness. You’d have to wash it once he was feeling better. Quick work was made to settle the blanket over him before his shoulders had stilled from the minor fit, his eyes appearing heavy when he rolled his head back toward you. 

“Don’ hafta stay.”

Your smile and gentle tilt of your head said where else would I go? Daryl hummed quietly, eyes slipping shut. He was asleep within moments. Maybe his lack of rest was responsible for the cold. As far as you were concerned, he could sleep until he could physically sleep no longer. Maybe you could persuade others to let him rest. 

Your knees pulled to your chest, one arm around them so you could rest your cheek there. The other hand ghosted across the fringe that had fallen over the side of his face. His skin was warm but not enough to frighten you. Maybe you could ask Carol for some tea and broth, if there was any available. You needed to speak with her anyway. Well, not really speak. Regardless, you wanted things to go back to how they were.

Dainty fingers continued to stroke across the archer’s forehead, finding an odd sense of comfort in the ability to touch him without inhibition. His demeanor while in your company was in constant fluctuation but rarely relaxed. He appeared younger in sleep, face slack without creases or pinched skin at the corners of his eyes. 

You wanted now more than ever to find your voice. You wanted to tell him how hard you would try to learn quickly. How dependable you would be once you could take care of yourself. How valuable you’d make sure you would become. You wanted to thank him. Others in the prison had done so much for you, but none more than Daryl. 

Daryl was the reason you were no longer under Big Jazz’s thumb. He was the reason you were there at the prison at all. He was training you to protect yourself and to protect others. He made you feel safe. Even with the sporadic apprehension, there was the constant blanket of safety when Daryl was near. If he hadn’t looked for you that day not too long ago… You pulled your knees impossibly closer to your body, a dull ache inside at the reminder. 

Daryl coughed beside you but didn’t wake, even with your fingers now carding through his hair. In the quietness of the moment, you allowed yourself to appreciate how handsome the archer actually was. You had seen the first day, when he had bargained for you. Rugged, rough around the edges, but handsome. For the first time in a very, very long time, you pondered intimacy that didn’t involve subjugation and pain. You wondered how it would have felt if Daryl had taken your offer that first night. Would he have been gentle? Would he have tasted you? 

Those potentially pleasant thoughts couldn’t last once your mind pulled forth the images of him under the spray of water in the showers. Regardless of your name groaned from his lips, you could only see the raised ridges and puckered flesh littered across his back. What had he been through? Had it happened after the fall of the world? Who had hurt him and why? Carol had told you nothing and it was not something you felt you could ever ask him about. It wasn’t your business. 

Still… the thought of someone hurting him, it made you feel something you weren’t sure you remembered how to feel. 

Anger. 

You had spent so much time being conditioned to submit, remain quiet, please, you had forgotten the burn of bitter hostility toward another person. Someone you didn’t even know. You were more than justified in your hatred of the men that had taken you, tortured and defiled and humiliated you. Justified but felt so strange. Finding resentment toward an unknown person for a wrong against a man you barely knew was stranger still. 

Yet, that’s exactly what it was. You wouldn’t hesitate a single second to drive your knife home into their skull, living or dead. You’d stab them over and over, one for each raised mark on Daryl’s flesh. 

A sound from downstairs startled you from your thoughts, a simple day to day chore of some sort that was not meant to raise alarm. Still, it frightened you. Most things did, but it was getting easier to control your reactions. You realized moments later that your face was damp, the hand hovering just over Daryl’s forehead was trembling. More than that, you suddenly felt drained with an exhaustion that left you dizzy. 

Needed nowhere around the prison— your only focus meant to be training with Daryl —you decided it wouldn’t be frowned upon if you were to rest while the archer did. Most knew that wherever he was, he would be instructing you, and would only seek him in the event of an emergency. In that case, the hunter would want to be disturbed. 

Sliding down the sleeping bag, you reclined onto your side and faced Daryl, worrying your lips against one another before you reached onto the mattress and placed your palm on this forearm. He didn’t stir but inhaled deeply, seemingly settling deeper into slumber. The contact was comforting and hopefully a level of noninvasive that he wouldn’t mind. Either way, it was enough to allow you to easily follow him into a restful, dreamless sleep. 

** What Daryl whispers to reader is an excerpt from “Hope is the Thing with Feathers” by Emily Dickinson

Taglist:

@royaltysuite @thegeorgiahuntsman @livingdeadblondequeen @deansapplepie @feral4daryl @walker-bait-1973 @lazyneonrabbitt @bizquake @littlelovingideas @ririi-3 @ankhmutes @blackvelveteen1339 @sokkasimp101 @lehhos @1ivinqdeadqir1main @loganlostitall @callmeyn @lilyevanstan1325 @the-lonely-abyss @gutsby @eljaynosine_triphosphate @abbyreedus @wifeof-barnes @bananafire11 @hutchersonsgurl @the-milk-is-rotten @she-could-never @Kenzimae67 @nessa-mayfield @ilovedilfs4eversthings @richardsamboramylove55 @annhells @abi67sblog @nessieart @imgeorgeclooney @brinteylovesaliens @eduardast4rgirl @daryldixmedown @willowaftxn83-87 @atyourmomshouse01 @bultamer @mia051 @memphiscity69 @flowerspetalsthorns @riya12044 @ariacraigggg @morgan556 @carley12041 @timeladyrikaofgallifrey @twdislifee @bae-live-0 @elbellmam @aleemendoza2425-blog @ramdomhoe @ren9sstuff

[cursedvida]

Can u do a buggy x sick reader? Fluff/comfort. The reader tries to get him to not take care of them because they don't wanna get him sick too.

I came down with a small fever and feel icky.

(if you do this, thank youuuuu)

PROMISE (Buggy x sick!Reader)

Warning: maybe swearing and the fact that english isn't my first language. Also the Reader is a f!Reader.

A/N: basically a fluffy scenario with a stubborn reader and a worried Buggy.

You haven't been feeling too well for a few days. At first it was just a simple sore throat, but now you feel your chest burning every time you cough a little. This morning you noticed that you also have a fever, not very high at first, but now you feel as if everything around you is spinning. You even have a headache because of the discomfort.

You haven't wanted to say anything to anyone, you've always been a pretty independent person and you don't want them to think that you can't stand even a simple cold. But as the hours go by, it's gotten to the point where you can hardly stand up. You feel your face getting very hot. It's not cold, but you're intemperate because of the fever. You have tried to hide your condition for as long as possible, but one of your companions seems to have gone off the deep end and now Buggy is standing in front of you, quite angry.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He's pacing back and forth nervously. He approaches you, taking off one of his gloves so he can touch your forehead.

You immediately pull away.

"Get off" you move away. "I don't want you to get it because of me. It's just a cold, don't worry."

"You're burning up, Y/N…"

You repeat to yourself that it's no big deal. Buggy is very dramatic, that's exactly why you didn't want him to know. Now he's sure to make a big deal out of it and end up sick. And it will all be your fault for not having known how to fake it properly.

You don't like to worry him, Buggy has too much on his mind to be wasting time on trifles. The idea of being a burden and not being able to fend for yourself disgusts you.

"I'll just go rest for a while and that's it" you tell him, smiling. "Don't be angry, come on…"

You sense that he is about to say something to you, but instead of opening his mouth, he just pulls his arms away from his body and sweeps you up.

"Buggy!" You exclaim, somewhere between surprised and embarrassed "What are you doing?"

"Didn't you want to go rest?"

"But I've already told you I'm going by myself. Really, if you do this you'll fall ill…"

Buggy moves closer to you, his arms back in place and now he has you pinned next to his body, carrying you as if you were a heavy sack. His face close to yours, his eyes on your face. You notice how his hands press against the parts of your body they have you by.

"Buggy, I'm serious, if we're that close…"

"What kind of guy would I be if I left you alone with that fever?"

His voice sounds dry, raspy. Buggy is usually outrageous when he gets angry, he likes people to notice him pissed off, to let everyone know he's not in a good mood and therefore the rest are going to pay for it. But right now his anger is different, much more intense, more real. Buggy doesn't yell or make a show of it, he just sounds like he's really hurt. As if you have really offended him.

"Buggy I… I didn't mean something like that. I just…"

"You think I care more about not catching a cold than supporting you?"

"Of course not!" You exclaim as you notice the pain in his words "I never thought anything like that, I just wanted to take care of you."

The clown clicks his tongue, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"Look how silly you are sometimes, baby doll" He cocks a half smile just before giving you a kiss on the forehead "This time I'm the one who has to take care of you. And that's what I'm going to do."

And that last sentence doesn't sound like a warning, but a promise.

[frozenjokes]

do we think cannibalism is a good idea yet? please? please do cannibalism?

“Hey, you okay, Mumbo? Can I come up? I’m thinking I’m going to come up regardless of what you say, but I’d like it if you just said yes.”

It was Scar. Mumbo said nothing. Scar hit his head twice attempting to get in with a trident, but made it on the third go, sighing with a dramatic ‘whew!’ There was a small silence in the wake of Scar’s arrival, causing the same agony Mumbo was sure Cub experienced when Mumbo smashed his ribs.

“Guess he told you,” Mumbo muttered, resigned to this outcome. Cub would tell Scar, Scar would push for more answers, and eventually the whole damn server would know something was wrong, not that they could do anything about it. Mumbo would not leave. Not until his shadow had its way.

“Cub told me you were really upset, yeah. Said he didn’t know why,” Scar shrugged, “Told me he thought you needed a friend. So here I am.”

“Ah,” Mumbo couldn’t even manage the noise without his voice slipping in a soft crack. Scar stepped toward the bed where Mumbo was curled up, moving to take his hand, then letting it go when Mumbo flinched.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” Scar said, so impossibly gentle, and while Mumbo most certainly would not, he didn’t want to say nothing; he didn’t think he could just say nothing, it was too much.

“I think I’m- I’m very ill. I’m having a- a crisis, I think. Mentally. I’m not well. I’m really not well.”

Scar hummed, low and thoughtful, “Want a hug? I could lay down with you, no need to sit up.”

“I don’t want to face you.”

“That’s not a problem.”

“I-Okay. I’m just. I’m just going to stay here. I’m just going to stay here.”

Mumbo felt the bed dip beside him, Scar muttering a soft, “Alright,” before sliding in and holding him in a gentle spoon. It was nice feeling Scar behind him, warm even through the blanket that separated them. Slowly, Mumbo let that heat consume him, felt his heart rate slow. And then out of nowhere it seemed, wretchedly, he started to sob. It was not unusual for Mumbo to cry, though most of his grief was saved for the end of worlds, the friends he���d never see again. So much of his focus was dedicated to staying in the moment, distracting himself, putting one foot in front of the other; stopping to sob was a waste of energy, a waste of resolve. It was giving up. And Mumbo was aware of what was coming, he knew it, but in each new world acceptance came later, the moment where the gravity of his soon-to-end life hit him harder each time, and today, it was hitting now. He could delude himself all he wanted that he’d hold on until the end of the season, but he knew he wouldn’t make it. He would hardly be able to stand more than a month of this. It was over. Maybe it’d be better to bite the bullet now. Stop drawing out his own suffering and deal with the hurt after it was done.

How selfish was that, with Scar at his back. With monstrous effort, he ground down the thought that this would be the ideal way to do it; turning around and tearing through Scar’s chest, disabling any means of fighting back, then taking his damned time. Mumbo cried harder when Scar followed his arm down to his hand, rubbing circles with his thumb into the back.

He would wait.

“Please tell Cub to leave me alone. I don’t know what he wants, I don’t care, I just don’t want to see him anymore. For the rest of the season, I don’t want to see him.”

“He wants you to eat him.”

Mumbo stiffened, a short, strangled sound crawling from his throat, but Scar shushed him gently, holding Mumbo’s hand tighter in turn.

“Just listen, lay here with me and listen before you freak out, alright?” Scar's voice was little more than a whisper, gentle force at Mumbo’s side serving to keep him still and as calm as he could stand to be.

“Why?” Mumbo croaked out, and felt Scar gesture vaguely with his head.

“He’s worried, mostly. He gets in his head about things, and he’s trying to solve them but he- well, he’s not the most tactful guy sometimes. I think he got scared when he saw you at the start of season ten; the last time he’d really seen you was after your break when you looked really bad.. He’s worried things are going to escalate to the point they did before, so he’s uh.. decided he’s gonna fix it. With cannibalism. When he’s talking about it to me it makes a lot of sense, but uh.. I mean, I guess it’s a little out there..”

“How do I make him stop. You have to- Scar, please make him stop.” Mumbo felt himself quivering in Scar’s hold, be it from fear or anger, he did not know.

“Oh, he won’t take it from me. I mean, he would if I was the guy he was trying to convince to eat other people, but he doesn’t always take secondhand advice like that. In this case, he’s way too zeroed in. You have to do it.”

“Well- fine. I’ll do it then, I’ll do it right now-“ Mumbo wriggled in Scar’s grip, but he held fast.

“Wait a minute- Not like that, no, not like that.” Scar almost laughed, but there was a little more stress there than anything.

“Not like what?” Mumbo huffed, annoyed. He pushed one last struggle, but gave in when Scar didn’t let go.

“You’ve got to be straight with Cub, you’ll put him off if you go about this too.. emotionally charged, let’s say. I’ll tell you exactly how to do it, I want to help you, Mumbo.”

Mumbo took a breath, then forced himself to relax, “Okay. Tell me. Please.”

Mumbo felt Scar straighten up behind him, then clear his throat, like he was about to address a crowd. “First, you gotta be as close to emotionless as you can make yourself. Fire up the coldest, deadest soul you can manage, and talk to him like you’ve just found out a close friend from like ten years ago got really sick, like really sick, terminal, and you don’t really know what to do, but the messenger of the news is looking awkward so you tell them it’s okay, it’s fine, but you don’t really feel fine, you know, your old friend is-“

“I understand, Scar,” Mumbo said, stuck between annoyance and a soft pang of amusement.

“Oh- alright,” Scar sounded a little embarrassed, but not offended, “Well I say that because Cub doesn’t- I know he doesn’t do this on purpose, and he’d probably be hurt if I said this to him so please don’t say anything, but he tends to take you less seriously when you approach him in an emotional kind of way. He really doesn’t mean to, he just gets a little confused I think, frustrated maybe. He doesn’t get it, is what I mean. He’s extremely bad at getting it. He’s sympathetic, but if you approach him and you’re emotional about it he’ll start thinking he knows better than you, in a ‘I’m just gonna take care of it for you,’ kinda way, which is completely infuriating, believe me, I know.”

“Are.. Are you guys okay?”

“Ah!” Scar jumped as if Mumbo had tazed him, “No no no! I’m just trying to explain it to you. I love Cub, he’s great, he’s the best. Literally. He’s just kind of an asshole sometimes. And he knows that, he doesn’t like being an asshole, so he listens when you tell him how it is.”

“Okay.. Then I’ll tell him I’m not going to eat him. And to stop bothering me.”

“No you won’t.”

Mumbo made a face, then gave in, “Okay. What will I tell him then.”

“You gotta tell him how he’s acting, right? You can’t tell him how what he’s doing makes you feel because he does not care, and he’ll probably tell you that, because when he’s made his mind up about something he seriously does not give a fuck unless you reach into his brain and shake it around a little. You gotta really take him by the temples and just shake.” Scar shook Mumbo a little for emphasis, Mumbo half fighting half chuckling as Scar dissolved into giggles.

“So I tell him that he’s being a prick and he should snap out of it before I get other people involved,” Mumbo sighed harshly, “Honestly, I shouldn’t even bother. I’ll just tell Grian. He’ll take care of it.”

“No, no,” Scar laughed, but it was a more nervous sound, like he knew just how serious Grian would take a matter like this, “That first bit is perfect. If you tell him that like you’re really serious- approach him first too, don’t wait for him to come to you- it’ll stop him right in his tracks. If that doesn’t work, call me. You don’t have to threaten him or anything, just make him see he’s not going about his business in the right way. I don’t do much more than tell him he’s being an asshole and he backs down. It’s magic.”

“Well- Okay. But I’m going to Grian if this doesn’t work.” Mumbo started to get up, but stopped when Scar squeezed his hand.

“Wait until tomorrow,” he said, quiet, “It’ll be better for you. Stay, rest today.” Even quieter still, he continued, “I’m sorry you’re going through something, Mumbo. If you ever want to get into the weeds I’m here, and you know Grian will be up and arms for you at the drop of a hat. It doesn’t.. It doesn’t matter what it is. To me especially, you have to know it doesn’t matter,” and with a small laugh, he said, “You could tell me you wanted to saw my head off with just your nails and I’d probably go yikes! I don’t think I’ll be very alive before you finish with the decapitation, but I'm free all day Wednesday, so we can give it a shot!”

“I’ll wait,” was all Mumbo could say. He hoped Scar would let it go now, but less than a minute later, he was speaking again.

“I just hope you know Cub’s got good intentions. He’s not trying to hurt you. I know it doesn’t always feel like that, especially when he can look you in the eyes and disregard your feelings because he’s more convinced he’s helping than he sees he’s upsetting you. I.. I’m also worried about you, if I’m being honest. It doesn’t take me finding you curled up in bed to know you haven’t been in the best shape lately. I don’t know the best way to go about this, Mumbo, and I don’t think- I don’t know if Cub.. I don’t always think he has the best way of going about things, but I understand where he’s coming from. I understand why. I know it’s difficult to extend him the kind of patience that you would for a closer friend, but please try. All of the hermits care about you, even the ones you don’t know well. We want to see you doing well.”

“I don’t want to talk anymore, Scar.”

Scar was quiet for a long moment. “Okay.”

…

Mumbo found Cub at the permit office where Scar told him Cub would probably be most consistently at least some part of the day. The idea of doing this in the permit office was most comforting for Mumbo, for the slim chance that Grian might also be there, might come up to Cub’s office and save him from the agony of this confrontation, though, the more logical part of Mumbo’s brain said that Grian was the wrong kind of person to convince Cub of anything. It was probably a good thing he never came in to work.

Mumbo had never been to the permit office before, but he couldn’t find an entrance, so grimacing, he poked a hole in the wall, replacing the blocks as he went. He climbed up the stairs with some issue (everything here seemed to be cluttered and difficult to find), then stopped before coming to the third floor, hesitating.

“Cub?” he called, feeling exceedingly stupid.

“Mumbo?” Cub nearly squawked, more than surprised, but this gave Mumbo some confidence, climbing the stairs to Cub’s office.

“Hello,” Mumbo said coolly, finding the even tone much easier to achieve now that he was face to face with Cub. Cub straightened his posture, and Mumbo, pleased to have gotten his attention, continued, “You’re being a prick.”

Cub blinked, then again a few times, but his expression stayed mostly the same. “Okay.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Yes.” Cub tapped his nails on his desk, looking thoughtful.

“I’d like to know what you’re going to do about it. Because if things continue the way they’re going, I’m going to have Grian get involved, and that would be a mighty pain in your ass.”

Cub nodded like this made perfect sense, “I think that’s fair. I do not want that. How about you sit down, Mumbo.”

“I’d rather not.”

“That’s fine. Regardless, I’d like to have a conversation about this so we can work out what we’re going to do next.”

“I already know what’s going to happen here, Cub. You’re going to leave me alone, cut complete contact, or I’m getting other hermits involved. That’s where this is going.”

“I would appreciate it if we could talk first, because as much as I’m sure you have plenty of words to say about me, I have a few things to say of my own, and I think it’s only reasonable that I speak my peace before you call in the dogs. You can hear exactly what I want from my own mouth and decide for yourself how you’d like to move forward when I’m done.” Cub closed his eyes, then opened them a moment later, “Because it doesn’t matter if you pit the entire server against me, I’m a damn stubborn cunt in the face of the kind of adversity you’re threatening, and the easy way out is here, at my desk. If you sit here and listen to everything I have to say and still want out, then I will leave you alone.” Cub eyed his own chair distastefully, getting up and maneuvering to sit with his legs crossed on his desk instead. He brushed away the few papers and knickknacks he kept, pushing them onto the now empty chair. “My desk chair is meant to sit higher than the one where a client would sit, but that’s all roleplay, let’s ditch the nonsense.”

Mumbo frowned. He considered calling Scar, but that wouldn’t help him here. He sighed. For the peace of mind of never having to deal with Cub again, this seemed a small price to pay. Mumbo climbed onto Cub’s desk, awkward with his long legs.

“Okay. Speak then.”

“I’ll only leave you alone if you listen to everything I have to say, got it?”

“Just get on with it, Cub.”

Cub rolled his shoulders, seeming quite content with taking his time. And then Cub’s eyes narrowed, throwing Mumbo a look so fiercely knowing that Mumbo felt it pierce straight through his bleeding heart.

“Let me start with what I don’t care about, because as far as shit like this goes, I prefer to lay it all out on the table. When it comes to the hobbies of this server’s inhabitants, slowly torturing, dismembering, and eventual eating alive of animals is pretty low of my list of Things That Make Me Feel Good but ultimately high on my list of Things I Don’t Really Give A Fuck About, and given everything I know about you, Mumbo, I don’t think you’re psychotic, I think you probably have a pretty good reason to do those things you do thousands of blocks out from spawn. And before you start squabbling at me, I found out in season eight, Scar knows because I told him, and I’m 99% sure Grian knows, but he never told me so and I haven’t directly asked him. I’m willing to bet he’s known since season six though, probably weeks within the first day he met you. If anyone else knows, I haven’t been told about it.”

Mumbo covered his gaping mouth with a quivering hand. He didn’t know what to do or what to say. Part of him wanted to lunge forward and silence Cub, but that wouldn’t stop him. It wouldn’t keep him from coming back. Cub did not look sympathetic. If anything, he looked angry.

“What do you need, Mumbo.” It wasn’t a question.

Mumbo didn’t answer.

“What do you need. What do you need? Why are you hiding it? What’s the damn point? If you need to eat, Mumbo, fucking eat, wasting away isn’t doing anything or anyone, especially not you.”

“It’s not about me.”

“Is it not?” Cub asked snidely, whatever neutral patience he’d been holding onto before evaporating, “What, you don’t want to hurt anyone? Are you a monster, Mumbo, because you have a little thirst for human blood? Join the fucking club! I can not for the life of me figure out what’s going on in your head- Do you think you’re better than the rest of us? Don’t want to stoop so low? What’s your damn problem! More than half of the server would lay themselves out on a platter for you on a whim of cannibalism related curiosity! Forget it if you need to eat people to survive; even the hermits you haven’t spoken to in months would cut themselves open for you! Have you opened your eyes in the past ten years? We’re all fucking deranged!”

“Shut the fuck up.” Mumbo felt the coolness come easy to him, encompassing him like black tar, “You’re making an ass out of yourself, jumping to conclusions like you can read minds.”

“You don’t give anyone much of a choice but to speculate.”

“Then I’ll lay it out for you,” Mumbo felt the rumble of a growl in his throat, expecting Cub to bite back, but he did not, silent, waiting. “Eating is not a matter of meat, not for me. Meat in the final step, but alone it is nothing, just a conduit. I need terror. I need hopelessness, despair, the kind that builds over years and years of terrorizing and watching your back and holding tightly to the things you love because you don’t know how much longer you can stand to stay, to hold them. Trying every avenue of escape, but it’s never enough. Drawing it out, leaving you alone just long enough that you think it might be safe, you think it might be over, but it’s never over. The only thing you can do is leave everything behind, find a new world, and hope to whatever higher power you believe in that I don’t follow. This isn’t as simple as asking for permission, Cub. When I finally decide it’s over, this world will end. You can not convince an animal otherwise. Animals only want to eat, grow, feel full. I will never be full. I don’t think I can be full. I can escape to sentience for a little while, spite that animal inside me, starve, but I have a feeling I’m only allowed to do so because it makes the upcoming meal that much sweeter. Betrayal, fear, hurt. To answer your questions, that’s what I need. You can tell the whole server, and it will not change the outcome. You can’t get rid of me. I won’t stop until Hermitcraft and all the history of its seasons, held in this one server, is completely abandoned.”

Cub was quiet for a long few moments after Mumbo was done, thinking, considering. “Right,” he said, almost like he didn’t believe him, the carelessness of that one word enough to make Mumbo want to bite his head right off. “That makes a lot more sense.” Then under his breath, trailing off, “..a little dramatic, but..”

“Does it.” Mumbo seethed, though part of him didn’t even know why. The callousness, the disregard- maybe he was angry that Cub wasn’t afraid because it made for a worse build up, a modicum less satisfying in the end. Maybe he was angry because Cub didn’t seem to care, and he should.

“What are you? Never heard of anything like that.” Again Cub continued casually, and despite Mumbo’s seething, his anger eased slightly at the question, reasonable enough.

“I don’t have a name. Over the years victims pass rumors of my existence around, but I’m hardly widespread enough to surpass the standard obscurity in worlds of temporary horrors. As far as I know I’m the only one of my kind,” Mumbo paused, shrugging, “Guess that’s not super likely though.”

“How old are you? You look like you’re in your twenties, maybe early thirties.”

“I don’t know. I tend to match the age of the people around me. It’s not a conscious effort.” Mumbo’s anger was starting to fade, replaced instead by a deep confusion, possibly a small amount of relief. He had very little idea what was happening here, what Cub was trying to get at, but he’d never been able to.. talk about this. Ever. Even his shadow didn’t seem to know how to feel, the both of them side eyeing each other from their places on Cub’s desk.

“Oh, I don’t mean now. I mean like- forever. In total, since you were born, or.. whatever created you.”

“I don’t remember when I started to exist. Atoms aren’t very concerned with the passage of time, nor are plants and animals. For the majority of my existence I did not count the years. Even now, I don’t count them like people do. I only want to know how long I can hold my sentience before it’s gone again.”

“Ah. So like. Really old. Really really old. Wow. I knew your body could change, I’ve seen it, but you can be different species altogether?”

Mumbo shifted uncomfortably at the idea of having been watched. He could not afford to feel shame for the animals he consumed, but he really didn’t like the idea that multiple hermits may have witnessed what he was doing and not said a word. He was always so careful- even then, if someone was following him, Mumbo was certain he would be able to sense their fear. Maybe he didn’t notice over the screams of jackrabbits. It was entirely too possible. Cub seemed unconcerned about Mumbo’s silence, continuing to ask questions almost like he was speaking to himself, like he didn’t need or want the answers because theorizing was entertaining enough.

“Can I see it? See you change?” Was the question that snapped Mumbo back to reality, the utter stupidity of the words rousing him back to life.

“If you’d like to see me lose my sentience in real time then paint the floor in your blood, sure Cub, whatever you want.”

Cub paused, almost consideringly, like he’d completely missed the sarcasm, “Maybe another time. What about something sentient? Can you do that? Like a vex- Like Scar and I! I mean, I honestly don’t know if the little guys are very sentient, so best not try-“

But Mumbo was already rolling his eyes, resigned to doing circus pony tricks, and the ethereal blue skin that painted Cub and Scar’s vex forms rippled across his own, dark hair curling into streaks of white, small wings fluttering at his back. Without entirely knowing what he was doing, he raised his newly clawed hands in a playful splay, hissing for emphasis, then let the whole change ripple away, returning to his human form. Cub looked spellbound, and the attention felt dangerous, appealing to Mumbo far more than he thought safe.

“That’s incredible! Oh, Scar would get a real kick out of that! You’ve got to show him!”

“I- It’s really nothing,” Mumbo rubbed the back of his neck, deeply unsure how to feel about this, but certainly mounting in alarm, “I’m not- I’m not showing Scar, I’m not doing that again-“

“Can you turn into other people? Can you look like me?”

“I- Probably? I mean I’m sure I can, I don’t really have limits, but this isn’t something I-“

“Try? Can you try? You don’t have limits? Okay we’ll go back to that later. Can you try?”

“We aren’t- we aren’t going back to anything!” Mumbo squeaked in his distress, but Cub was so genuinely interested, so genuinely impressed that Mumbo didn’t- he’d never experienced something like this before. So he gave in and tried, though, ‘tried’ implies there was any effort at all when in reality it was quite easy, basically second nature, until the change was complete and his mind seemed to double over on itself, the same but entirely different, thinking his thoughts but in completely different ways, stalling Mumbo where he sat, paralyzed by the horrors of a new inner working. Almost immediately he changed back, heaving shallow breaths as his mind caught up with the speed of his thoughts.

“Whoa- That was- Are you okay?” Cub stopped in his tracks, apparently failing to notice the internal explosion that occurred in Mumbo’s head.

“I am never doing that again.”

“What-“

“Your brain is awful,” Mumbo heaved, and Cub blinked, and Mumbo knew exactly what was happening, that Cub was processing, everything inside of him sluggish and those pauses, all those times he paused between sentences, it made sense now.

“You copied my body and mind?” Cub breathed, and Mumbo was still reeling so hard from the momentary terror of being in Cub’s head that he could not respond, “That’s- I mean maybe I should have guessed that might happen if you’re changing completely, but- I don’t know! I wonder why you reacted so badly if you were just me, because I wouldn’t have cared, I’ve lived here all my life. Maybe you keep part of your own head? The internal dialogue? Oh- Maybe you didn’t get my whole brain, you just got all the mental illness. In that case, I am very sorry. I bet you’d inherit physical problems too, the ones that don’t get fixed by respawns. Scar’s sickness, for example. Wow. That is really cool. I’ve never needed to cut someone open so badly in my entire life. Can I study you? I’m asking but I really don’t want to be asking. I know I said I wouldn’t pester you after this was over but I have way too many questions.” Mumbo was honestly shocked Cub could talk so fast in a brain like that, but then again, he hadn’t stuck around to find out the complexities. Maybe it only sounded fast because Mumbo’s own head was fried.

“Okay, so how do we kill you?”

Mumbo blinked up at that. “What?”

“If you go crazy, how do we kill you? Stop you, whatever.”

“Okay- one. This isn’t about ‘if’s’ so don’t get in your head about it. And you can’t stop me either, that’s not how this works. I don’t just die.”

“You can die perfectly well right now,” Cub pointed out, unconcerned.

“Well- sure. But it doesn’t matter if you kill me or not in any form, I don’t stay dead.”

“That’s fine,” Cub said, tapping his fingers impatiently on his legs, “Just tell me how. When you were hunting all those pigs you didn’t look like you got hurt or even bled.”

Mumbo huffed, impatient himself, “Well if you want to kill me, you’d better do it instantly. I don’t sustain any injuries if I don’t want to, the skin heals over as soon as whatever’s hit me is gone.”

“So if I wanted to keep you somewhere, I’d impale you. Get you in the head or heart, or maybe not some place lethal.”

“You can’t keep me anywhere, I’ll just change.”

“Ah, right. Then I’ll have to convince you not to somehow. How do you feel about peoples’ suffering if you’re not the one inflicting it? Can you tell the difference between a real scream and a fake one?” Cub talked casually like this was a simple matter of problem solving, far too animated, almost like it was fun.

“I- I don’t know, Cub, but I don’t think this is a very productive line of thought.”

“Why not? I mean, I’ll have years I’m sure to experiment on my own, but while you’re here and talking to me I think I should take advantage, don’t you?”

“You can’t stop me!” Mumbo nearly shouted in his distress, though Cub remained unperturbed.

“Is this Mumbo Jumbo the sentient human talking or Mumbo Jumbo the flesh eating terror, because if I may, you’re sounding suspiciously like the flesh eating terror.”

“You- You have no idea what you’re dealing with. This isn’t something you can stop or fight, Cub, I’ve lived hundreds of lives and worlds where everyone I’ve ever befriended has-“

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Cub interrupted him, “I don’t care. However, maybe you’re right that prepping for the worst case scenario isn’t a great use of our time because who knows how much you’ve got left. Let’s see what we can do to extend it first, yeah? If we can do that indefinitely, then there’s no problem!”

“I’ve already tried everything, Cub-“

“Have you tried cannibalism?”

“No, but-“

“Then you have not tried everything. What’s your deal? Why are you so against it? I understand your methods are a tad more intense, but who cares. Y’know, I bet this would be more effective against someone who isn’t going to see it coming. Scar is a prime candidate, but Grian would be even better for your purposes.”

Mumbo blanched, reddening in turn as anger brought flush to his face, “I am not going to attack anyone without telling them! What is wrong with you?”

Cub raised an eyebrow, then shrugged, “If you want to maximize the time you have with sentience, you should take advantage of the beginning when no one understands why you’re doing what you’re doing. For the purpose of farming enough suffering to last you, it seemed reasonable, but yeah, probably a little extreme. Still, I think you’re going to have to ease up on the ethics here if we’re going to figure something out.”

“I’m not- No, Cub. I’m telling you no.”

“Why?” It was Cub’s turn to be frustrated, scowling as he rolled his eyes.

“Because I would feel bad!”

Cub nearly hissed, throwing up his arms, “For fuck’s sake! Are we not past that? I thought your whole issue is that you make friends then torture them to death a thousand times before moving on and doing it again. Why do you suddenly have problems now that you have a willing participant?”

“Because I’m sentient, Cub!”

“You’re cowardly is what you are. Get over it.”

“Right, sure, yeah, I’ll just do that.”

“Great!” Cub huffed, “I’m ready then! Go on, paint the floor red or whatever you said about my blood. Get it all over. Give me a reason to be afraid.”

“I can’t. I don’t- You don’t get it. I spend so much time in this body doing my best to make up for everything I’ve done. I’m glad that you don’t seem to have a guilty conscience, but it’s not so easy to know the full weight of the horrors you’ve committed and the pain you will bring again because you can’t stop. What’s the point of spending the rest of my time here inflicting the same kind of suffering I will when I lose my head. You think you can stop it, but you’re wrong. You are wrong. I am past delaying the inevitable. Let me have this. Let me starve. I will do all I can for the server in my last months. I won’t live here just as I would live as a dog. It’s not worth it. It’s not worth inflicting, knowing exactly the harm I’m bringing and wanting more all the same. And that’s in the case that everyone here is magically okay with being stalked and tortured to death until I crack regardless, no, I refuse to believe even you would want to live like that.”

Cub stared at Mumbo for a long moment, searching, though for what Mumbo didn’t know. “You’re guilty,” he mumbled, like this wasn’t obvious, “You think you deserve to starve.”

“Of course,” Mumbo replied, struggling between his own shame and the hot anger simmering below his skin.

“I don’t think so,” he said, like it was just that simple. Mumbo opened his mouth to argue, or maybe just scream, but Cub interrupted him, “Regardless of what you are now, Mumbo, you are not human. You can take the shape of a person, you can do and feel the things that people do, but you are not one, not really. You’re something else. This ‘something’ doesn’t have a name, but you have different needs. You are not a person. Why is it so evil for you to take what you need, Mumbo? I mean, sure, you can’t expect to take what you need from the friends you’ve made and keep those friends all the same, but you are not bad for taking. You are hungry. You are hunting, and you are eating. It’s callous of humanity to consider themselves above this dynamic of the food chain. We are not. Nor are you, most likely. There’s always a bigger fish.”

“It’s not the same. I am far crueler than any animal you can name, and I know better.”

“Do you think dolphins deserve to suffer for hunting fish?”

“Cub, I told you it’s-“

“Many things eat their prey alive,” Cub interrupted coolly, “You found a renewable source of food, one that feels emotions stronger than any other options, comes back to life, and fears you greater each time. You are not a person, Mumbo, you are a predator that hunts people. It doesn’t matter if you ‘know better.’ You need to eat. You need it. Talking ethics, if you want to ease your guilt, you should limit the time you spend interacting with people in the body you’ve made for yourself, but even then, you’re only preparing yourself a better meal. It is not evil. People can hate you for it, but that’s not any different from how a rabbit might hate a fox. It is not any different.”

Mumbo quieted, knowing little of what to say. It was different. It was different because Mumbo hated doing it, he hated having to do it, he hated fighting with himself, and he hated being This. He liked people. He liked being a person, he liked living among them, he liked it all so much more than he liked himself.

“But I don’t want to. I don’t want to need it. I want to stay here, stay human. I want to be human. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Well,” Cub said, voice softer, sympathetic for the first time since Mumbo had joined him on his desk. “That’s a separate can of worms, isn’t it.”

Mumbo didn’t speak for a long time. He kept his eyes closed. He didn’t want to see Cub. Cub, who was looking at him, looking directly through him.

“I guess so.” The words were so quiet, they hardly passed Mumbo’s lips before they were nothing.

“Well, here’s what I think, Mumbo,” Cub started, the softness dissipating in favor of something calmer, more logical, “I think you have a lot to say about what will or won’t keep you sentient longer, but for someone so confident cannibalism won’t work, you certainly haven’t tried it. So you’re going to try it. See if this can be a temporary possible-solution until we can find a more permanent one. I need time to work this out, and I refuse to let you keep starving yourself out of shame.”

“You- What? You think you can-“

“I don’t think I can do anything,” Cub interrupted, voice hard, “But those woodland mansions have a hell of a lot of books, and I happen to enjoy looking through them. Scar and I are always looking for something to do. So.” Cub looked back at Mumbo from where he was staring out the window, “Are you willing to try? It’s a little cramped in here, so I think it would be better to go somewhere else, somewhere I could run from you, if you like that. Outside might be ideal as well, so we don’t have to clean up so much. We could probably-“

“I- Wait, Cub, please wait,” Mumbo needed to interrupt him, needed to stop him, but when Cub did stop, waiting for Mumbo to continue, he found his mouth dry.

“What.”

“I can’t. Not yet. I’m not ready.”

Cub looked just about ready to kill him, and honestly Mumbo didn’t blame him, but the mental block was still there, he was just so- he didn’t even know, and maybe that was the worst part. He was scared. His limbs were stiff and numb, and even with the shrill screams of desperate starvation in his ears, he couldn’t bring himself to move.

Cub took a long, deep breath, barely holding on to his composure, “Mumbo, if we don’t do something to stall for time-“

“Eat me. Eat me first. Do it all, everything I would do to you, draw it out, make it hurt. I need- I need to know how it feels. I need this.”

Cub paused, eyes narrowed in thought. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Mumbo. You don’t need more excuses to back down. I’ve had my fair share of being torn apart, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’ll do it. I promise I’ll do it, I’ll eat my whole damn fill if you want me to, Cub, but I need this first. I have to know.” Mumbo had no idea where this had come from; the feverish desperation, but now it was all he could think about, knowing, he had to know, he had to face what he’d done directly, and then he could swallow this pill and move on.

Cub considered him, eyes still narrowed.

“Alright. Fine.” he closed his eyes, inclining his head then opening them with a smile, “We’ll do it in the labyrinth.”

[allyjoe755]

Family Ties Pt. 2

Benedict Bridgerton x reader

part one

WC: 1152

a/n: I originally set out for this to be the last part; lo and behold, that isn't happening. So there will be a part three!

warnings: benedict is kind of an alcoholic, slight angst

o-o-o

Five months later

Lady Danbury’s ball was, as always, a smashing hit to the start of the social season.

Benedict Bridgerton, as always, was searching for a good glass of brandy and avoiding the dance floor with the new debutantes and their mamas.

He kicked himself mentally. He had been a fool, and he had no one to blame but himself.

Francesca had debuted this season, which he supposed was exciting, but he had watched at the presentation for a different individual to make her way down to the queen.

You.

Had it truly been nearly half a year ago when he had first met you, had gotten to know you? It had only been for a day, and yet…

And yet, you had stayed. Not physically, but you hadn’t left Benedict– hadn’t left his thoughts, plaguing his mind with images of you, of your laugh and smile and quick wit.

Not even a night out spent drinking and filling other certain desires could take his mind away from it, away from you.

But you were the sister of his brother’s wife. It was ridiculous, because that meant you were off limits. If Anthony knew– oh, if Anthony knew– Benedict didn’t even want to think about the havoc that it would wreak. You were Anthony’s younger sister-in-law, which meant you were protected by Anthony.

So, Benedict had kept these thoughts, these feelings to himself. He had tried, over the past five months, to put on an air that said everything was fine. Perhaps he had spent more time in his art studio as an escape, but no one had noticed, and that was a good thing.

But it hadn’t stopped him from searching for you at the debutante presentation. You had said you were debuting this season. And when you hadn’t shown up…

It was the first time he had brought up the topic of you since you visited. His curiosity got the best of him, and he asked Anthony and Kate where you were.

“She has come down with a rather nasty cold,” his sister-in-law answered. “She will begin attending balls when she feels she is ready.”

“Rather disappointing she couldn’t experience her presentation to the queen,” Anthony said. His wife hummed in agreement as Anthony looked at his brother, a brow just barely quirked. “Why do you ask, brother?”

“Just curious, is all,” he answered, perhaps a bit too quickly, but he smiled at the couple and excused himself before anything else could be said about it.

Now, he was here. You were not.

And he hated how disappointed he was by it. He hated that the only thing that could make him feel at least a little bit better was alcohol, and hiding away in Lady Danbury’s garden.

He was a fool. He resigned himself to this as he sat on one of the cold, stone benches. He had to be, because he had never been so distracted and enamored by someone before, someone he, truthfully, hardly knew–

“Have you been avoiding me?”

The voice was so shocking Benedict almost choked on the brandy sliding down his throat.

There you stood, just to the side of him, your hands clasped at your front.

“You– you’re here,” he choked out, his eyes wide. He stood from his seat in a hurry.

“Of course I am here, Mr. Bridgerton,” you replied, the edge of confusion evident in your voice. “I believe I remember mentioning that I would be debuting this season when I visi–”

“Yes, yes, I remember,” he interrupted, and he hated that he did it, hated how flustered he felt. He cleared his throat. “My apologies. Your sister had informed me that you had fallen ill and would not be joining us until you recovered.”

You raised a brow. “So, you truly have not seen me at all this evening amongst the fellow guests?”

Benedict shook his head, and then, he laughed. “I hadn’t believed you would be here.” Truthfully, he hadn’t really been looking for you.

You shook your head in turn. “I don’t see what’s so funny about that.”

The side of Benedict’s lip quirked up into a smirk. He didn’t mean for you to be confused, or hurt, just–

“What’s funny about it,” he said, taking a step closer to you, “is that at the queen’s presentation, I stood for what felt like hours, watching each new debutante, and praying that the next name called would be yours. And each time, when it wasn’t, I grew more and more impatient… until suddenly, it was over.”

“I wasn’t feeling well,” you whispered, your cheeks growing pink.

“So I was told,” he replied, flashing you a quick grin. His eyes quickly darted to the rest of the garden, to make sure they were in a public enough area, that there were others close enough around… 

He realized he did not want to dishonor you by accident.

His eyes met yours again. “I had assumed, with Lady Danbury’s ball being the first, you would not be feeling well enough to attend. I had assumed you would not be here, so I did not even think to look for you amongst the crowd.”

You released a breath. “Truly?”

“Truly.” He offered you his arm, and you took it as he walked you back toward the ballroom.

“That is a relief,” you told him. “I was hoping to at least have some familiar faces at these social gatherings.”

At your words, Benedict felt something twist in his stomach. Familiar faces. That was all she was looking for. Was that the only reason she had sought him out? As an acquaintance. He was, after all, her sister’s brother-in-law. Perhaps that’s all she saw him as, all she wanted to see him as.

He smiled at her. “Of course.”

His heart thrummed in his chest… but he could do that. He could be content with that.

He just felt better with you being near.

As you stepped back into the ballroom, the musicians began transitioning into a new song. Benedict gave a polite smile and held his hand out to you.

“May I have this dance?”

You let out a giggle and nodded. “Of course, Mr. Bridgerton.”

He guided you to the dance floor and you stood opposite each other, his hand on your waist and yours on his shoulder, the others gently clasped together as you began the steps.

You continued your small talk, your pleasantries, and Benedict enjoyed watching your smile grow wider and wider– enjoyed feeling the own ache in his cheeks. When was the last time he liked anything at a ball?

He didn’t know when, but he knew why.

Benedict Bridgerton liked you. Forbidden as you might have been, he wanted you.

And so, as the dance ended and he bowed to your curtsy, Benedict accepted his resolve to do one thing.

He was going to court you.

o-o-o

taglist: @vicurious28 @pear-1206

[kunikinnie]

a/n: oddly specific prompt as it's based on recent experiences lol lemme indulge (also lowkey a mess but whatever HAHA) warning: some profanity

comforting you after a breakup (and you getting sick in the process)

featuring: Kunikida, Akutagawa x GN!Reader

Kunikida Doppo

He'd drop by your place more often that he should. But it's not that it was uncalled for (although of course he was worried that he was overstepping boundaries). In fact, you were always grateful for his help.

"How are you feeling?"

"A bit better," you'd reply with a weak smile. It was always like this every visit and for every other visit to come. He'd bring you some food, sometimes those which he cooked himself, your favorite snacks, and whatever it is you requested from his previous visit.

While you were glad you had a friend around to brighten up the place in your darkest moments, sometimes the guilt would get to you. Wasn't he spoiling you a bit too much?

Perhaps he was, but to him, this was hardly anything at all. Yes, he was doing it for you, but he was also doing all of these things to ease his own guilt and pain from seeing you like this.

He promised he would always be there for you. It shouldn't have been hard, given how loyal of a friend he was (and given how deeply he had fallen for you) , yet he'd failed at looking out for you when you needed him most.

Maybe if he'd acted sooner, you wouldn't have fallen for that bastard. Maybe if he'd tried a little harder, you wouldn't have to sacrifice so much for a man who would never have done the same for you. Maybe if he'd had been more honest, you would've realized that you were loved - so greatly loved, really - even if that came from a person so unworthy such as himself.

The moment he found out your bouts of illness weren't just unlucky coincidences was the moment everything crashed down for him. There was nothing more painful for him than seeing you in pain, whether it be emotionally or physically. That's why he couldn't take it anymore when everything started going downhill for your health and your relationship.

He's glad that at least the initiative to break up with that scoundrel came from you. However, the temptation to strangle him if Kunikida ever bumped into him always lingered in his mind. Perhaps it was fate that spared both of them the headache; he never ran into him since you two broke up.

How could your ex waste your love and affection like that? Why did he leave you hanging in the air when you needed him most? Why did you have to fall for him anyway?

Of course he didn't want to think of himself as being the better choice as he also has his own weaknesses and issues to work out, but at least Kunikida knew he'd never let you second-guess or tire yourself to death.

He'd never force you to fit his ideal because he's learned to love you for the person you are.

"Thanks so much for all this."

Your smiles alone made all his worries vanish into thin air. Didn't you notice how much brighter they are now? It's the only reward he could ever ask for, even if sooner or later those very smiles would be reserved for someone else.

"I'll come again tomorrow. Just let me know if you need anything."

"Nah, it's fine. Your presence is more than enough."

Words couldn't encapsulate the joy he felt from hearing that. If only he could return those same words with the same level of honesty...

"Aww, he's happy to hear that."

W-was it really that obvious? Then did you also notice-

"Okay, okay I'll stop teasing you. You should go home now, it's late."

"I'll be fine. You should be fine too. Don't forget your meds. Also you can heat up the-"

"Yes, yes, I got it. Don't worry about me too much. I think you should be worrying about Dazai-san's latest case instead-"

Ah, right. Sometimes he wished that his partner would at least spare him half the trouble so that he could visit you more often...

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

He couldn't understand anything of what was happening to you, and to some extent, to himself as well.

He was aware he had no idea nor any intention as to knowing what "love," let alone being in a relationship meant. So when he learned that you had been dating someone else, he had been largely unaffected.

Well, at least that was what he said. It was obvious to anyone close to him that he was, in fact, extremely affected. The mere mention of your name was enough to shake him and sometimes even sour his mood.

But if this so-called "love" was the reason your smiles seemed to be brighter, then he had no right to feel the way he did.

As time passed, he distanced himself from the very thought of you. There was no point in dwelling on something that causes you pain, he claimed. Sure, sometimes you'd bump into each other and he'd feel lighter when you greet each other, and maybe he'd look out for you during missions as he always did, but they were just out of duty as your superior.

Yet the moment he found you one night crying in the middle of the rain, his resolution had been all but forgotten.

He used Rashoumon as an umbrella for the both of you before (awkwardly) asking what had happened. You suddenly hugged him tightly, despite being drenched from the rain, and continued to sob into his shirt.

"I guess he has no place for someone weak like me," you barely managed to say.

That statement puzzled him. You? But you were one of the most capable members the mafia, not just in terms of power and agility, but also in intelligence and strength of character.

It was not until he finally brought you to the hospital (because of course you got a fever from crying in the rain, dumbass) that everything was made clear.

You were diagnosed with a rare disease that had no treatment. Turns out you found a few days ago and were about to tell your partner that night, until he left you (literally) stranded in the middle of the rain for no good reason. He must have been tired of dealing with your symptoms - that was your conclusion.

"And still you refused to seek shelter like the idiot that you are," he said with great annoyance, but with no harshness in his tone. He could understand where you're coming from, of course, but compromising your health as if you were seeking death over something like that irritated him.

But what angered him more was your ex's (he supposed he was already your ex) behavior. To someone like Akutagawa who didn't even claim to truly know what "love" meant, it was disgusting to see someone abandon their lover like that. Worst part was that had to be you.

You having an illness, terminal or not, was not an excuse. If anything, that should have made him more determined to be by your side until the very end, right?

He hadn't realized you had already drifted to sleep. Despite your pale and reddened face and your puffy tear-streaked eyes, seeing you at peace for even just a moment brought him some peace of mind as well.

He was caught in a flurry of thoughts, ranging from wanting to choke your ex to coming to terms with the idea that he himself had fallen in love with you, and even to wishing that he could take your illness instead.

None of those really mattered right now, at least. The one thing that was clear was that you had to recover quickly and fully. If that meant he had to distance himself even further, then so be it. But if him being around would help in any way at all, then he'd swear to never leave your side and nothing - I mean nothing - can deter him from that.

taglist: @stygianoir, @irethepotato, @kisara-16reblogs, @thatdazaikin, @dazaee, @menshusband, @celestair, @bloobewy, @renaxnnas, @kunikida-simp

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Whumptober Day 8 - Sleep Deprivation/Forced to Stay Awake

Y'all know with a prompt like this I had to write my baby Sky. I decided to have fun with Skyward Sword and the Imprisoned's design/encounter. :3

X

To say Link was exhausted was an understatement. However, he was far from stopping now. He had failed to rescue Zelda when she’d been captured, and he’d refused to fall behind since then. While he’d successfully defended her and Impa from Ghirahim at the Temple of Time, it had felt like a hollow victory – he’d finally caught up to Zelda just to lose her again.

But he’d been given a mission: he could reunite with her if he opened the Gate of Time. And opened it he had.

In the end, it had been for nothing. One quest after another, one task after another, one test after another. And the end result was to watch Zelda encase herself in an amber prison for thousands of years, with her only hope of escape through his success.

He couldn’t make her wait a second longer. How many millennia had she been in there? Could she hear him? Could she tell anything was happening? Or did all her focus go to maintain in the seal, heart heavy with sorrow and guilt over a truth Link could hardly fathom?

He just wanted his friend back.

He hadn’t stopped since the Earth Temple. At best, he’d paused after Zelda’s imprisonment – a time where he literally couldn’t move forward, not for a few hours at least, as his body finally took advantage of his weakened resolved and made him violently ill for the rest of the day. But the next morning, he was up before Groose or the old lady, and he was off to strengthen himself and prepare himself further so he could eliminate the demon king once and for all and save Zelda.

As time had passed, his resolve had remained, but his patience had thinned. His best option was usually to stay quiet, but sometimes snappish remarks came out unbidden, nearly downright callous in his fatigue. The amount of people he almost hadn’t helped was… somewhat alarming, in the back of his mind. Link could be a troublemaker sometimes, but he’d never been cruel or apathetic, and some days he felt nearly both as his journey progressed.

He’d take it out on the demon king. He’d take it out on Demise, on his imprisoned form, that cursed abomination that changed shape every new time it tried to break through the seal Zelda was suffering to maintain.

Link stood at the edge of Skyloft, staring off into the clouds with nearly no thoughts in his head. He’d been called an airhead, even lazy, plenty of times – perhaps that was the case. Perhaps this was more laziness from him, more wasted time he couldn’t afford to have, but the way his mind was so blank, the way it took all his energy just to stand almost made him wonder if he should… no.

No. He would not take a break. He couldn’t afford to. In his more desperate moment, while he was ill, he’d told himself that Zelda was simply asleep, that he had all the time in the world now. But then the anxieties quickly returned, the thoughts that kept him awake at night questioning is she actually still awake in there? Has she been suffering and waiting painstakingly for me for ten thousand years? And then he couldn’t sleep, he had to get up and move, he had to make his way back to Skyloft and figure out how in the world he was supposed to find the Triforce and finally end this.

He’d found Levias quickly. He’d fought off the parasite quickly. And then he’d been tasked with yet another quest, another hurdle preventing him from completing his mission.

He wanted to scream. Instead, he restocked his supplies at the bazaar, and now he found himself just… staring.

Move, he tried to urge himself, but his feet wouldn’t listen. His loftwing circled below him, waiting for him to jump, gliding along the winds and calling to him, urging him. Yet he felt like he could pass for a sword spirit himself, made entirely of metal, weighed down with an immeasurable weight.

He was so tired.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a full night’s sleep. Or even naps during the day to compensate, at least not more than the few minutes he’d nod off at any moment’s notice before getting back on track.

How did Hylia think he was worthy of this task? He didn’t know. But he didn’t care – this wasn’t about Hylia, this was about his friend.

But aren’t they one in the same? He didn’t know. He didn’t know. It didn’t matter. He would save Zelda. But he had to move.

Move. Move, dammit!

His mind was blank, but it screamed at the same time. He belittled himself but couldn’t motivate himself to just jump. The daunting magnitude of his task sat heavier and heavier on his shoulders the longer he stood there.

He had a headache. His stomach rolled with emptiness, an illness born from lack of appetite. His body trembled, and he swore he could see lights in the sky that weren’t the portals.

Fi chimed. She was saying something, but whatever it was, it sounded so distant over the wind. He hardly heard it.

“Master.”

He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her voice so loudly. Either way, it made him finally snap out of his daze, head turning sharply to see her hovering just to his right. Despite being expressionless, something in the way she carried herself looked different to Link, a strange tension in her usually limber and fluid body.

“Master Link. Now that I have your attention, I must again emphasize that there is a 78% chance furthering your journey in your current state could lead to serious damage. You must return to your place of residence to acquire proper rest and nutrition in order to continue,” she explained.

Link blinked. “What?”

Fi was silent a moment, and then repeated, “There is an 81% chance that furthering your journey in this state—”

“You changed the percentage,” Link grumbled, waving his hand. “I don’t care about the probability. I’m 100% going now.”

“Master Link—”

Spite and anger fueled him all of a sudden, finally giving him the impetus he needed to jump, and Fi quickly returned to the sword, though he swore he could hear a heavy sigh. Had she ever sighed?

Usually, the crashing winds of skydiving would bring Link into focus more than nearly anything. Today it felt like slaps to the face, anger flushing his cheeks red hot as he let himself nearly fall into the cloud barrier before calling his loftwing, who came immediately.

His exhaustion seemed to be nearly left behind on Skyloft, and he leapt off his loftwing when they hovered over Faron’s region. He wasn’t really looking forward to explaining anything to Groose, so he hoped he could bypass the Sealed Temple altogether and just find the dragons to get this over with.

Maybe Fi is right, his mind whispered, a nagging, irritating, desperately plea. Maybe I should rest when I get down there.

And listen to Groose bully him about not being a man? Or get harassed by the old lady for not doing his duty? Or make Zelda wait a second longer than she had to?

What if she doesn’t actually feel or hear anything? What if you can actually take the time you need?

He… he couldn’t dare to hope, could he? He was so tired. Just… just maybe one full night’s sleep, when the sun set. Maybe just one. Just one.

“A report, Master,” Fi chimed in his mind, catching him off guard. “An unusual phenomenon is taking place in Faron Woods, making it impossible to descend directly into them at the moment.”

Of freaking course it is, he thought irritably. What new obstacle was in his—

Oh wow.

What should have been green as far as the eye could see was now heavily overcome with brilliant blue, reminding him of the old Lanayru Sea. Where had all that water come from??

Link directed his body where Fi indicated to land by the Sealed Grounds, and he pulled out his sailcloth at the last moment, nearly missing that he was about to slam into the ground. He sighed heavily, rubbing his face. Maybe he wouldn’t even be able to access Faron at the moment, and he could get some sl—

Groose rushed for him, eyes wide and face pale, and Link immediately knew sleep was not going to be an option.

“Link, bad news!” he called, waving his arms before screeching to a halt in front of him. The ground shook, dark energy wafting in the air like fog that danced in sadistic delight, and Link’s insides grew cold. “That beast looks like it’s about to break free again!”

Not again! We just did this!!

The Seal was weakening even more, despite hie best efforts, despite Zelda’s efforts.

What if—what if—

“Gotta get into position!” Groose said, fear dissipating as determination carved his face into stone. He truly did look like a knight of Skylfot in that moment. “Hang tight!”

For a brief moment, Link felt his heart stop at the thought of what might have happened if he’d heeded Fi’s advice and stayed up in Skyloft to rest. But now wasn’t the time to ponder it. His body and mind snapped into coordinated clarity as adrenaline surged his system, pushing the exhaustion to the periphery. He followed Groose, body tense and aching, head still pounding. Dark slivers of malice moved higher and higher, polluting the air and making his head hurt even more – he wasn’t sure how Groose wasn’t able to feel so sick as they nearly choked on the demon’s dark energy… was he just growing weak from lack of rest?

It doesn’t matter. I can’t stop!

The earth shook again, nearly knocking Link down to a lower level as he lost his footing. Groose just managed to reach the Groosenator, clinging to it for stability as he yelped, “Whoa! Feels like that seal is going to give way any second!”

The seal, the seal—oh Zelda, what’s happening?! Why is the seal faltering so much? Are you hurting, are you weakening, why is it breaking so much now what if I can’t stop it what if I’m too late—

“Uh… but no need to panic!” Groose continued, and for a second Link thought his own fears were showing on his face, but it seemed his bully-turned-friend was trying to reassure himself as he held onto his device with a white knuckled grip. “You know what the Groosenator can do! As long as I’m at the controls of this bombshell beauty, I don’t even know the meaning of the word defeat!”

The earth quaked again, and Groose braced himself, standing tall and powerful as the sky darkened. Link unsheathed his blade, hearing Fi sing and warm in anticipation, a faint blue glow illuminating the darkening space around them.

Groose nodded to himself, looking Link firmly in the eye. “Flinging bombs on this monster’s face, defending this land… it’s my purpose, I think. It’s why I’m here.”

He seemed so certain all of a sudden, like a hero of legend himself. For the first time, Link wondered if perhaps Hylia should have chosen Groose instead. Nothing seems to have deterred him. Link tried to lean on that certainty as well, and as he glanced back at the Sealed Temple, his own fire rekindled within him. He straightened his back, growing tense as the world shook again, a distant roar echoing in his mind.

“Anyway, Link, I’ve got work to do,” Groose announced, waving a hand and smirking. “Try not to get in the way of my shots, okay?”

Link nodded, moving off the platform and looking down at the seal itself. It was glowing blood red, a vibrant reflection of the darker hue the sky had taken. Crimson and purple in hues darker than timeshift crystals rose like smoke from a fire, sparks emanating from them and freezing the space around them. Link felt himself shiver, but he gritted his teeth, ignoring the way the icy dark magic tried to stab through his skin like hundreds of tiny needles.

He wasn’t going to wait for that monster to tear through the ground. He would face it head on. Maybe if he caught it early enough, he could banish it once more before it could even start climbing.

He felt a little more confident now that Groose was well practiced on the matter. His classmate’s confidence seeped into him, warming his already steely resolve like pumpkin soup on a chilly day.

Link leapt off the cliff, making his way to the bottom. The closer he got, the colder it got, an ominous, otherworldly feeling making every hair on his body stand up, his instincts screaming for him to turn away. It left him a little unsettled – fear had been his companion on each confrontation, but it had never felt so visceral, as if every fiber of his being was repulsed by the beast within.

He didn’t have much time to ponder the matter any further as the seal shone brightly before being completely drowned in dark energy. It pulsed all around Link, seeming to try and steal the breath from his lungs, paralyzing his body, and he took a hasty step back to ready himself, shivering horribly.

Massive arms tore from the earth, throwing Link even farther back and slamming him into the gorge’s wall. He remembered that the last time, the strangely egg shaped, black scaled monstrosity had grown more limbs, long muscular arms with claws sharper than Crimson’s talons, body more stretched to be more proportional, and a tail starting to peek out from behind. It crawled like the little creatures Link had seen in the desert, looking almost like a lizalfos crawling on all fours as it tried to climb its way to the Sealed Temple.

It was far worse now.

The Imprisoned was massive. Its body was far more elongated now, tail evident and whipping around to beat Link into a pulp as dark flames burned endlessly from its spine. Its black scales snaked around its entire body except for its underbelly, which looked like it was carved of pure stone instead of the thick skin that it had to be. Alongside its multiple rows of razor sharp teeth, it now had massive lower incisors sprouting out of its mouth and above its head, like horns that it would use to skewer him. It moved faster than ever, immediately making its way up the cliffside.

“Link! Let’s do this!” Groose shouted loudly from the top. “Our game plan is the same as last time! You know what to do!”

Link frantically ran towards the nearest air geyser just as Groose launched a bomb towards the beast, and as it made contact with the monster’s head, Link brought his blade down on its feet to slow it down like before. The Master Sword glowed blue, its magic making it burn through the beast’s scales on its feet and drawing black blood. The Imprisoned roared and whipped its tail to take him out. Weeks, maybe even months of fighting lizalfos helped him to dodge in time, slamming his body to the ground before he could get completely pummeled. He rose quickly as Groose hurled another bomb their way, but this time he was too slow.

The shock of the blast sent both him and the Imprisoned stumbling. He heard Groose cry out, but he could hardly register it. Fi chimed seemingly frantically to get his attention as the Imprisoned began to climb shakily. He managed to reach its other foot before it could lift off the ground, dodging around the dark energy emanating from the being as it tried to sap him of his strength. A spin attack assisted him in crippling the beast, making it stumble back before falling to the ground with such an earth shattering force that Link fell off the cliffside to the bottom once more. He quickly recovered, using the geyser to return to the Imprisoned and strike at its sealing spike.

He could do this, he could do this. It was going well so far, and—

The Imprisoned roared, freezing Link, and a dark halo suddenly appeared around its head like a sacrilegious crown, and then the beast started floating upward.

“WHOA!” Groose bellowed. “Since when did it learn how to fly?!”

Link stared in horror, trying to rush for the Imprisoned’s tail to latch on, but its dark magic repelled him, making the world spin dizzyingly as he got knocked flat on his back, heart racing.

“It’s headed straight for the temple!” Groose yelled. “But there’s no way I’m letting it get there! Big ugly’s going down burning!”

Link blinked blearily, trying to reorient himself, Fi’s earlier warning screaming in his addled mind, there is a 78% chance furthering your journey in your current state could lead to serious damage.

The only damage he cared about was to Zelda, he could handle—could handle…

The world faded for a terrifying moment, and Link jolted awake a second later, heart racing faster than any monster could evoke. The sound of a bomb exploding and the deep, throaty, ear splitting roar of the Imprisoned tore through his mind next, nearly blowing out his hearing.

The beast fell from the sky, flopping on its side, tail halfway covering the trail down to the bottom, feet still bleeding, halo missing. Link gritted his teeth, leaping off and disregarding the sailcloth entirely, landing on the beast and feeling his feet burn as he slid to the ground near its throat. He reached the spike in seconds, ignoring how he limped, and beat the thing back into the monster’s skull once more. His arm shivered from the exertion, feeling every bit of the strikes against pure, mystical stone, and the Imprisoned roared in protest, writhing in agony and making Link run for the nearest corner to avoid getting hit.

As he watched the beast fight against the sealing spike once more, precious item out of his reach, he heard Groose yell in panic.

“Not good! The road crumbled, and I can’t get to the rest of my bomb stash!” he heard Groose shout, and Link felt his blood freeze. What were they going to—“Link! Come up to the temple, and make your way over here! Hustle up!!”

Link shook his head, shoulder screaming in protest, and rushed to the nearest geyser as the Imprisoned quickly recovered its strength. He nearly lost his grip a couple times on his sailcloth, but he made it up top quickly enough to feel his heart stop as the Imprisoned was nearly at eye level with him. Without a second thought, he leapt into the cannon, about to order Groose to fire him when his friend already spoke the words he was thinking.

Nodding in resolve, he let Groose guide the machine and then his world lurched as he was tossed. He tensed with the movement, pushing off the catapult to give himself even more momentum, sword at the ready as he landed on the beast’s skull.

Immediately, its dark energy started to slink around him, black flames lapping at his clothes, paradoxically freezing, tensing every muscle in his body. He pushed through, slamming his blade down on the sealing spike, and he threw enough momentum into it that the stone sank all the way into its skull.

The Imprisoned roared, and the ground beneath Link vanished as it plummeted to the pit faster than him. He fumbled with his sailcloth, pulling it out with enough time to not get himself killed, but not sparing him the hard impact of such a rushed landing. He groaned as his legs gave out, one feeling it had nearly snapped, and aimed his sword skyward as he propped himself up from the ground with one arm.

Fi sang, glowing with holy energy, and Link made the sealing motions.

And just like that, it was over.

Relief flooded Link so utterly that he collapsed, body screaming, incapable of catching his breath.

He wasn’t sure what happened after that, honestly. All he knew was that suddenly he was in the Sealed Temple.

Blinking in confusion, he tried to sit himself up and hissed as his right shoulder gave on, slamming his head on a pillow.

A pillow?

“Link!” Groose rushed into his sight, looking worried. “Buddy, drink this!”

Drink wha—

Link coughed as a bottle was shoved into his face and he nearly choked on the red liquid that poured into his mouth. He swallowed most of it, some dribbling out of his mouth while his lungs violently shoved the rest out. He felt Groose sit him up with a hasty apology.

Immediately, warm relief flooded him, easing the ache in his shoulder, the screaming in his leg, the headache pounding behind his eyes. Every ounce of his strength, however, was still gone.

Groose huffed, shifting from worried to his usual boisterous self. “You had me worried! What happened out there? Was it the Groosenator? It’s not like we haven’t shot ourselves in the air like that, did that big ugly monster poison you or something?”

“He’s clearly exhausted,” the old woman noted from somewhere in the distance. “Let him rest, Groose.”

Groose paused, his concern becoming gentler, and he quietly eased Link back onto the makeshift bed.

Honestly, the smaller Skyloftian couldn’t protest. His mind was too blank, soul heavy and completely overcome by his body’s feeble state.

How long had he gone without sleep? And how long had he gone without getting more than a couple hours at a time?

It didn’t matter! At this rate, the Imprisoned would come back so often he wouldn’t even be able to leave the Sealed Grounds!

“Link.”

Link turned his head to look over at the old woman as she approached. Although he couldn’t really see her eyes, the gentleness in her tone mixed with her more-shriveled-than-usual posture painted a… strangely solemn picture.

“Let yourself rest, boy,” she encouraged quietly. “You will not be able to help Zelda if you collapse.”

You were late.

She’s waiting for you.

The demon king is getting stronger.

Link tried to protest. He couldn’t make a sound.

Master, Fi said softly in his head, filling the fog with her song. There is a 97% probability that you will be unable to make it to the entrance of the Sealed Temple, let alone any farther than that. I highly recommend following their advice and recovering your strength.

97% meant there was still a 3% chance he could do it. But he… knew it was pointless to try.

Link hated himself for needing this. Hated himself for being so weak, so feeble, so mortal when what Hylia clearly expected was a god. How else was he supposed to fight a god of destruction?

He squeezed his eyes shut, frustrated, ignoring the tears that tried to escape. He didn’t care if he was just a student from Skyloft. He would save Zelda. Nothing would stop him.

But… he would resume in the morning. He could spare no further time for himself than that. Not at the rate the seal was deteriorating.

Zelda’s sacrifice would not be in vain.

He heard Groose speaking quietly to the old woman, something about gathering supplies for Link. He felt his heart warm a little at the notion of it, at the thought that he wasn’t alone in this. He was suddenly very thankful for Groose, no matter the history they had.

Link closed his eyes, and he finally let himself rest. But when his anxieties woke him that evening, he refused the demands Groose made that he continued to sleep. Instead, he was briefed on the situation happening in Faron Woods, and his friend reluctantly agreed to help him get inside the newly flooded region.

As Link flew through the air, preparing to hit the crystal clear waters, he let the wind whip his face and awaken him once more. He would sleep when Zelda was safe. He’d gone through the Silent Realms. He had Din’s strength to help him, Farore’s courage to maintain his resolve, Nayru’s wisdom to guide him.

He was ready. It was time to finish this.