#I'm in a very fragile state at the moment

[yanderenightmare]

tomura with hero reader whose quirk he's stolen, rendering them defenseless

Shigaraki Tomura

TW: slight nsfw, implied prev noncon, captive reader, Stockholm syndrome, implied mental break, mental deterioration, disassociation, manipulation, angsty, but also weirdly fluffy? reader is super fragile

gn reader

The chub of your inner thighs is still wet with the act. You rub them together for no other reason than that it feels pleasant. You trace the awful scars on his arm, using his warm chest as a pillow—the sound beating of his heart thumping rhythmically at your ear, a soothing presence.

 He balances a red book atop your crown.

He doesn’t seem very interested in reading it—only regarding it with jaded eyes, a meager scoff then and there before turning the page. But still, even though the book didn’t excite him, it bothered you that his attention was elsewhere. It sowed the seeds of doubt and gave root to way too many intrusive thoughts, sprouting out and spreading like weeds throughout your mind, making your chest curl at the possibilities.

“Do you think I'm ugly?” you have to ask. You have to know, why isn’t he looking at you.

He pans away from the page, beady garnet eyes softening from scrutiny to nonplus.

Your question stunted him—nearly made him believe he’d heard you wrong. Why someone like you would ever ask someone like him something like that seemed beyond all reason. It would be the same if a flower asked gravel.

But then again, you’d become a little ditzy as of late. Or maybe you’d been so for a little while already. It’s hard to say—you don’t talk as much as you used to. You no longer scream either, though that had ceased even longer ago.

You continue to delicately run your finger over the tear where his tough skin meets the even tougher purple tissue as though mapping the damage. There’s a frown on your face. No, not a frown—a pout. 

He thought for a moment to use it against you like he’d done everything else so far. Lie and say yes, tell you you’re about as ugly as he is—gravel—make you fall even further apart than what you were already. But something compelled him to choose differently.

“I think you're the prettiest thing in the world.”

Your pout is sucked between your teeth as you pick yourself up to peer down at him—eyes round and misty and something more, something strange—dare he say joyed?

You're scaring him.

“Really?” you choke out as if you’d been holding back a lump.

He hasn’t known how to treat you lately. You’ve become too soft to handle poorly—too frail to harass and too willing for him to feel the need to. Earlier, you'd even begged him to fuck harder and deeper—even cum inside. Actually, you hadn't veered away from his touch in a while. More like you've been embracing it.

He'd brushed it off as mere compliance at first, a state of meekness, weakened by being touch-starved, something that perhaps developed into a minor case of Stockholm syndrome.

But the way you're acting now—seems more concerning.

“Yeah,” is all he warrants as an answer. Though, he was curious as to yours as he begs the same question, “What about me?”

A smile graces your face then—there’s a comfort to it, a mild and affectionate one, unexaggerated, honest, as you smoothly swing your leg over his lap.

A look like that has no place on your face, especially when regarding him, and yet he finds himself hoping for more. He lays his book aside as you lean forward and doesn't stop you when you cup his face in both your palms.

“As far as I'm concerned, you’re not just the prettiest boy in the world—you're the only boy in the world.” You say it with a kiss, lips just as soft as the words leaving them. It shocks him, though he accepts and gives it back.

You close your eyes, laying your chest against his—he keeps his open to look at you. Observing and assessing.

You’ve truly become a whole other person altogether. A far cry from the tough hero you once were—the one who’d beat him within an inch of his life and leave him to choke on the blood.

“Will you stay with me today?” you ask against his lips��playing with his hair, looping the curly tresses around your fingers.

There’s a neediness to your voice, a certain desperation, a sadness—something lonely and something that reminds him all too much of himself. He feels both a strong urge to reject and soothe it all at the same time.

“No, I gotta go,” he says despite it. He had business.

You hide your face in his neck and continue with your tracing, now on the scrapes striping his throat where he’s raked his nails time and time again. “When will you come back?” Your tone comes out even sweeter, only a murmur mushed against his skin.

It nearly makes his heart twist. “It’s better I don’t answer that.”

It’s funny. Though the thought had struck him, he didn’t gauge any ill intentions. You could be asking, acting, plotting some escape based on the hours of his absence—yet somehow, with the way you nuzzle into him like that, as though you’re pouring your all-too-candid grief into him, he can't sense any other ulterior motive.

“Last time you left at this hour, you came back all beaten and bruised,” you mutter, now with a hint of bitterness—as if you’re cursing whoever hurt him under your breath.

It’s ironic. He sneers lazily, almost fondly, at the old memory. “You’re the one who used to beat and bruise me, remember?”

He’s truly curious if you do. Or if something’s spirited your past life away and left you like this—no longer an aspiring young hero, but something whose only value is warming his bed at night.

You arise, an appalled look of affront upon your face.

“No, that can’t be right,” you very nearly cry, as if the very thought was killing you. “I would never hurt you—I love you too much.”

Apparently, you don’t remember who you were at all.

“Love me?” he all but croaks. It’s a laughable prospect, and yet he doesn’t even smile. There’s something awful in his gut that prevents him. “Don't be stupid. You can't love me.”

Your face doesn’t drop its grimace, only further tears with forlorn outrage. “Of course, I love you!" you insist. "You’re my whole reason for living...”

You look so despaired—wrecked from his dismissal. The tears well quickly then slip down your face just as fast—and yet it isn’t the same crying as you used to. This time, it’s quiet—in wait or in dread as you beg the question, 

“Don't you love me?”

It’s an unexpected one, and it quickly proves to be an existential one—even more so than your unnerving confession. Despite not wanting to, it leaves him to dig through the muck in his head he’d long ignored, down in the dark where he’d tried burying the truth he'd felt oncoming. He'd wanted to deny it, reject it, amend it, simply because it confused him too much to acknowledge—complicated things—changed things he didn’t want or need changing.

He wonders if it’s somehow proof of fate—even though he despises such a concept. That, no matter how much you practice free will, no matter how many knots you make upon the red string, the world will pull and straighten it out, and you’re left to realize you’d brought it all on yourself.

First, he took your quirk, then he took your body—your mind shortly followed—and now it seems he’s managed to take your heart, too. 

There’s nothing left of you that isn’t his. 

There was a time he’d frolic at the thought of having reduced you to such a pathetic ghost in a shell—back then, he’d do anything to destroy you—he’d surely shatter you into a million little scattered pieces if presented with the chance, make sure you were broken for good. 

But that was the old him. Or rather, that was his dream for the old you—the hero he loathed down to his rotten core.

But the pretty misty-eyed thing looking down at him now, aching for his answer, wasn’t that person anymore.

And the truth is, the person you are now scares him more than that hero ever did. 

You were… well, you were the person who warms his bed at night, the person who traces his scars and plays with his hair—the person who wraps themselves around him and keeps him from falling apart when he stumbles through the door into the tiny little room he keeps you a prisoner in. You're his.

This time, his heart does twist. He’s never before spoken the words that dance on his tongue, or if he has, they’ve been long forgotten and come out as dust balls as he affirms them now, 

“Yes. I love you.”

There’s a flash of hope in your eyes, though it just as quickly diminishes—as if you don’t believe him.

Your lip warbles as you confirm it, “No, you don’t.”

More tears run silently down the tracks on your cheeks, gathering at the tip of your chin before dripping upon his chest—each one like a gunshot through something hollow.

“If you did, you wouldn’t go. You wouldn’t leave me here in this room, all alone.” Your nails curl into your palms where they rest atop him. You bow your head as though you can’t bear to look at him, as if it hurts. The next words come out beneath your breath, “How am I supposed to compete with the whole world?”

You’re making him feel like dying. The continuous twists of his heart feel as if you’re about to tear it right out of his chest.

He sits up and lifts your face. It’s strange, even with his two-finger gloves on. He doesn’t think he’s ever held you like this. Though, suppose it’s been a night of many firsts already. And here comes another,

“As far as I’m concerned, you are my world.”

There you are, the one thing he doesn’t wish to destroy.

Your sore eyes become round, then swell with different tears. There’s a hitch in your breath as you sigh through a shuddering sob, throwing your arms around his neck and clinging to him tightly—your body jostling while you rub your wet face into his neck, holding him close for comfort as if you're scared to ever let go.

He returns the gesture, though somewhat hesitantly, wrapping his arms around you and laying his head to rest against your shoulder.

And then, as he holds you—for the first time ever, fear of actually losing the fight ahead strikes him.

He hadn’t much cared about the outcome before. Either he’d destroy or be destroyed.

This wasn’t as simple. As said earlier, this complicated things.

But then again, it was even more of a reason to go.

“But I still have to leave.” 

You part from him—the betrayal in your tone demanding his justification, “Why?”

Suppose, in some ways, this actually made things simpler—as that was a question he had no problem answering.

“‘Cause there are monsters outside…” He rests his forehead upon yours, gazing back into those terribly glassy eyes looking back at him as he speaks to you about your dear old colleagues. “Monsters who want nothing but to take you away from me.”

If only they could see you now, they’d know… you no longer want to leave him.

“So I have to go out there and make sure they have no chance,” he explains, almost like a vow, “You’re mine, and I’ll destroy anyone who says otherwise to keep you that way.”

The way your eyes melt makes him feel all fuzzy. It’s a special type of glee, a victory before the battle even begins—to see you root for him—so deep in love with him that you’ve forgotten you’re celebrating the onset of death to all of your former friends.

They probably wouldn’t be able to take you away from him even if they somehow managed to invade this very room. You’d sooner die than betray him.

And that makes him feel all the more ready for the war ahead.

“So kiss me good luck, and I’ll come right back to you soon.”

♡ SHIGARAKI TOMURA ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[prael]

Currents

Kinktember Day 12: Electrophilia

Aespa Winter x male reader smut

words: 3,194 Kinktember Masterlist

"Sign here. Here. And here."

"And what's this for, exactly?" Winter asks, pointing a dainty finger at the paperwork.

"Protection. When someone like you enters a place like this, I need you to sign a waiver stating that you're of sound mind and know what you're doing."

"My mind is far from sound," she says with a playful wink.

Winter takes the pen from your hand. Her nails are painted a matte red with glittery bits at the tips. When she scrawls out Kim Minjeong on the dotted lines, it looks akin to an intricate piece of calligraphy. She places the pen on top and slides it back across the desk. "Now. I've signed and paid. Can we get to the fun?"

With a smile and a nod, you wordlessly guide her to the room she paid for. On the way, you take a few glances back at her, there's this keen expression of wonderment as she spots rooms for every type of fetish she might one day indulge in. Little ideas fired around her mind. What she might try next and how it may very well send her to heights of pleasure unforeseen. She must feel your gaze upon her, as a small giggle and coy smile creep on her face, and she asks in a small voice, "What?"

"Nothing," you say as you pull open the door at the end on the right. "You just have this look about you."

"A good look, I hope?"

She walks through the threshold. As the door closes behind you, the neon strips light up the room in a pale violet. Black leather and cushions cover almost every surface and all the other items seem so insignificant around the electrified bed in the middle. "Intrigue and excitement are always a good look in a place like this."

Winter's eyes alight as if someone had set a flame to a blanket of kindling. "This place... it's amazing." The corners of her mouth inch towards her ears as her gaze sweeps every nook and corner of the room, from the hanging metal chains and restraints to the riding crops and collars lined up by size, perfectly uniformed and orderly on their wooden mounts. Her gaze settles on a coil of rubberized cable as the width of her pupil increases, darkening her eyes. "I thought I would be nervous, but..."

Winter steps further into the room, you watch her take delicate steps as she stares at the centre-piece, the bed that will soon become her salvation, her ruin, her desire personified. She takes her jacket off and carelessly drops it on the floor as she spins back towards you, her eyes are wild and yet bright with lust as her tongue runs over her top row of teeth.

"I'm so excited," she confesses. "It's... exhilarating."

She steps close to you, her breath washing against your neck, sending an enticing thrill down the base of your skull.

"How would you like me? And don't go easy on me okay? I might look fragile..." Winter steps back a couple of times, letting you size her up as if you haven't been doing it since the moment she walked it. "but I'm not."

"Let's start by getting you fitted with a little something," you say as you walk to the side, picking out the perfect shock collar to fit Winter. Something thin would be best, is what you decide. Such a slender frame as hers wouldn't suit a big chunky collar.

"Yes, please," Winter says, making an energetic skip up to your side and resting her hand on your shoulder. "Something light is usually my colour."

"I think so too. Something skinny too. Ah, I know just the one."

After a brief scan along the top three rows, you spot the perfect collar to suit her. It's a light pink, it's her size and looks as delicate and attractive as she is.

"Oh my. That's... so cute," she sighs.

You pull it from its hook and open it. "Now, come here winter. Let me put it on you. Make sure it fits."

Obedient and happy to comply, Winter eagerly steps forward, craning her neck back slightly. Her breaths are even and calm as she closes her eyes. "There's something so... vulnerable about being collared. It's intoxicating," she explains.

"Do you want to know why?"

Winter's mouth opens but she stays quiet.

"Because girls like you, get a kick from relinquishing control. Once the collar's around your neck, you become mine. Completely. Whatever I say goes, isn't that so? And if you don't, you get a shock."

The silence grows until she begins to nod her head gently. "That's exactly it... I have a taste for the painful stuff. For the hurt and submission."

You loop the collar around Winter's neck. It fits as though it were made for her. Tightly fitted, enough to lightly choke her, enough to make sure the contacts within it touch her skin. You take the remote in hand and fiddle with the dial. A mild charge hums from the wires as they heat, preparing to punish.

"That's an agreeable buzz," she whispers with closed eyes. "Perfect."

"Perfect indeed. Now, Winter, on your knees for me." You barely give her a chance to process the request before you determine she has taken too long, and hit the button on the control. A low crackle emanates as it pumps voltage into her neck. Enough for the contacts to spark a single charge through her. Just a sharp sting of pain for a split second before she cries out. Her knees buckle, sending her to the floor, one hand grabbing at the collar as the other seeks a stable point in the soft black mats covering the room.

"Agh— f—fuck," she swears quietly as she gasps for air. "That hurt. So good." Her breaths are quick, her cheeks slightly flushed, and her eyes are wide with delight.

"Top, off."

With trembling hands, Winter holds the hem of her black top. This time you give her all the time she needs to take it off, but she doesn't. "Shock me, I'm a bad girl."

Without hesitation you bring a bigger jolt through the collar, causing her whole body to quiver. Winter shouts and winces, but the smile on her face as she takes it, and pulls her top over her head, tells you that everything's going to plan.

With her top now on the floor and no bra ever being underneath it, you observe how gorgeous she looks. With her small breasts, tiny frame and mischievous face. You stand in place and look, taking her body in and enjoying it. Her waist is so slim, and when her breath quickens, it accentuates that little curve of her abdomen, even a hint at the grooves on each side of her lower stomach.

"Again," she pleads, with puppy dog eyes that are part-glazed.

"You do have a taste for being hurt," you respond as you turn the voltage dial on the collar a little more. A click of your thumb later, and this time she yells louder. Tears well up in her eyes, but her smile only widens.

"I do," Winter pants out the two syllables like they're the only words she knows. "I do. I do. I do."

She repeats it over and over until you hit it again. Her knuckles go white as her body tightens. Muscles bunching in her back and in her arms and legs. Her lithe body trembling through another delicious jolt.

You reach down and grab her by the neck, fingers catching her just under the shock collar. A strangled gasp bursts from between her lips as her wide and eager eyes stare right at you, wet with lust. You pull her to her feet. There's no resistance, nor do you expect there to be. Once she's on her feet, she rushes her mouth to yours. A desperate, needy kiss. Hungry and moaning into your lips.

You break her away from you by pushing her back, sending her stumbling towards the bed. "Those shorts. Take them off."

The delighted gleam of hunger and sadism in your eye isn't lost on Winter. She quickly shakes her head, hoping to earn herself another round of pain.

"Think you deserve more? Think you've been a good enough girl?" You ask, taking a step closer. "Shorts first, then I'll treat you."

Winter does as she is told and lets her denim shorts fall. And just like her top, there's nothing beneath. An amused smile appears as her eyebrows bounce once, and she says, "Surprise!" in the most cute manner.

"I have to say, Winter, everything about you is a surprise. Such a cute little thing you are, but so devious too. I'd love to take you apart, bit by bit."

"Take me however you'd like," she chimes in.

"Yeah?" You turn away from her naked, helpless body and to the desk, picking up the prod and flick the switch to make it come alive. "With this?"

You turn and present the long silver rod, where at the end of it, two metal prongs protrude. You push the button and an arc of electricity forms between them. Winter's eyes roll back, and her thighs press tightly together. She squeezes her own chest as she whispers, "Please," over and over.

Slowly, you stalk toward Winter, you can almost see the ache radiating from her like she is a bomb ready to explode. Then suddenly, before she has a chance to register what's happening, you stab the prod forward into her left calf. Winter spasms and convulses, her teeth clench and her hands grasp at nothing but air. She wails in painful, tortured delight and falls to one knee.

Her other leg now too.

"Yes," she squeals, "F... Fuck. Thank you."

You grab a fist full of her blonde locks, twisting them tightly between your fingers as you drag back to her feet. "On the bed. Now," you tell her, your voice as ice cold as the lack of emotion on your face.

She whimpers as you pull her hard until she's flat on her back in the centre of the bed. It's about waist height, and you look down at her lithe, naked frame. Strands of blonde hair stick to her cheeks from perspiration and tears of pleasure. Her limbs tremble in aftershocks from the latest barrage of electricity that was shot through her, and her skin glistens.

"Please... Again. Please," she whimpers, a feeble creature now after the latest shock. "I'm so wet." Winter shifts one leg higher, spreading herself, and tilting her hips. With one hand you reach into her, plunging two fingers into her cunt.

"Fuck." She lets out a deep gasp and turns her head to look up at you, lips trembling, wet with her own spit, and asks again for more.

You withdraw your fingers and push the prod against her abdomen. Without hesitation, you make her body buck and her cry cut through the still air of the room. Winter yells and twists, kicking her feet wildly into the air as she twitches in her spot. When you stop she lies flat, panting and gasping and eyes streaming. She buries her own fingers into her cunt now.

"Please do it again, I'm going to cum." Her voice is croaky and scratchy from yelling but still thick with urgency and desire.

Another shock.

Another twitch of muscles.

Another shock.

Another scream, and then finally, Winter throws her head back as her pussy tightens around her own fingers and spasms and writhes as waves of pleasure and pain hit her simultaneously. She cries out incoherent words. Scratches her nails at her own thighs while rubbing her clit through her orgasm. Winter shakes and trembles before you, her mouth hung agape.

She's still cumming and this time you hit the button for the collar around her neck. The brief, sharp flash makes her shake harder. The pitch of her orgasmic scream pitches higher.

"Again," Winter calls.

One last time.

You jolt her again, and Winter reaches a fevered pitch as she shakes with more ecstasy than any one person could take. Her whole body is trembling as one large, unceasing wave of pleasure sweeps through every part of her body. The lewd expressions of overwhelming satisfaction as she slowly comes back down are almost enough for you to fuck her, and right there and then, you are tempted.

You throw the shock prod, now it's time to make the bed do the work. Winter has no fight in her as you take hold of her wrists and then ankles, fastening them one by one in bindings that hold her spread and vulnerable. There's a strap for her upper arm too, and her thighs, and finally across her slutty little waist. You make them all tight, and they're all wired up.

"What—? What are you doing?" Winter questions, turning her neck to take stock of the restraints.

You simply ignore her question and focus on attaching the last restraint, that sits across her upper chest, just below her collar bones. Then you walk across the room and press a large red button. A thrumming of electricity hums through the metal bars. Every contact point on her body warms up and a chorus of muffled cracks and sparks come to life around Winter.

"This is special," Winter mutters to herself, her tone hinting at awe. She struggles against her bonds and they're secure. Tight and secure. Even with that futile exertion, she has no escape and smiles at that realization. "Looks like you have me trapped. Can you really hurt a pretty little idol like me? Can you go as far as I need you to?"

Winter swallows hard as she watches your mouth twist into a malevolent sneer.

You hit the button.

She starts to shake. The moan from her lips is loud and almost primal, the exhale laced with pain and excitement. She moans out loud, thrashing against her shackles, her small body thrusting back and forth as the lowest setting courses through her.

You stand over her, looking down and watching the way her muscles tense and her fingers clench. Her toes curl and the moans grow louder, and more frequent. More desperate, she can barely get a word out but she still pleads for more, the word yes spewing from her lips amidst an unending list of other slurred sounds.

You leave her there for a moment, struggling, while you slide your hand into a thick rubber glove, working it up your arm.

"Please make me cum," Winter pants through an agony of pleasure.

You walk back to her, pressing your hand against her flat stomach. She trembles under your touch, you can feel the way her body vibrates through the glove. Her eyes go wide with fear and excitement.

"Hurry, it's so good!" Winter squirms against the bonds but can't move an inch. You take your time looking between her thighs, at her soft and bare cunt, a shade of pink between two rosy folds. It's so slick as her pussy begins to trickle with her lust.

The thick rubber of the glove goes into her hole and makes Winter yelp like the pathetic submissive slut that she is. You stretch her pretty little pussy so easily, thanks to how creamy it is. She's so messy. At the same time, you raise a thumb to the control and push it up a notch.

An explosion of lightning and a sensation between her legs and another strangled moan of desperation. Her head whips from side to side. "I can't, oh shit," Winter manages to blurt out, her voice reduced to a pathetic squeak.

With your finger hooking into her sensitive spot, and her body stimulated with an electrical current, Winter doesn't have a snowball's chance in hell. You fuck her hard and rough with your hand until your arm begins to ache. You play with the current of the bed and the collar, sending shocks through her when she least expects it. She climaxes before long, her legs pulling taut at the restraints. She cries, "More!" as she loses herself to the pulses of her orgasm.

And as her back arches as best as it can, she floods over your glove with cum and screams for it. Winter's release is incredible, it gushes all over you, but you just don't let up. She's absolutely out of control and has to suffer more. Winter can't escape any part of her restraints as they don't give up shocking her through her orgasm, one after the other.

Her face twists in the most fucked up combination of pain and pleasure. It's an incredible sight.

You're just pounding her tight little cunt. Stretching it as it gushes out all the cum she has to give. Her body struggles against all the different sensations. She just keeps spilling out onto the bed as her body shakes.

It's only when she starts to choke out her moans that you finally twist the dial down to zero. It takes a few seconds to turn it completely off but the damage was done. Winter is heaving for air and when you slowly withdraw the digit buried inside her, pulling the plug on her cum spilling out.

"Wait a second," she breathes out in between pants, "let me just..." Winter stares up at the ceiling as she works on stabilising her breathing. When the world seems to slow back to an acceptable pace, her lips turn up into a joyous little smile. "Shit," Winter winces as her hips buck, the throb in her core making her moan ever so softly. "I think I made a mess."

You lift your wrist and nod as if to agree. "You made a lot of a mess."

Her pale skin has turned flush and warm with a sheen of sweat from exertion. She takes a deep breath, letting the sensation of the electrocution linger. Winter looks radiant, so beautiful that the urge to do all those things you wanted to come bubbling back. But you stay strong, despite how tempting her glistening little body is as her chest rises and falls.

"No regrets though," Winter comments, stretching against the confines of her restraints. "I've never cum like that before in my life."

"It really suits you, being tied down like this, cumming over and over. Are you sure you don't want another round?"

With a slight chuckle, Winter closes her eyes and gives her head a feeble, exhausted shake. "I do, but I can't." She can't even bear to open her eyes, she's spent and in a state, unable to cope with the aftershocks anymore.

"This is more like the woman I expected, shy and frail and overwhelmed. I guess you're just so easily broken."

"How did I do?" She asks in a raspy voice.

"For a first time? Great. Most people don't make it to the bed. And not many people look that good when they're cumming."

Winter lifts her chin a little higher. "I did that well?"

"You did."

[swiftdove]

bleeding crimson

pairing: rio vidal x agatha harkness x fem!reader

summary: no matter how much you try to run from the truth, the road leads you back onto the path, forcing you to confront the thorns from your past.

content: angst, tension, knife-play, dark actions, slight smut

a/n: this is my first time ever writing a part 2 i feel like this is a very monumental moment for me

part 2 to collateral damage

Later that night, you had found yourself leaning against the trunk of the tree, willing yourself to sleep. Yet, despite your best efforts, the earlier conversations seeped into your mind, forcing out any rational thought. 

It wasn't right, how easily they managed to pull you back under their spell. They knew exactly which buttons to push to get what they wanted, whilst your skills had rusted over time. The way they treated you; it was as though they'd never left. It was almost comical, how little they'd suffered over their abandonment of you, how they expected everything to be the same as it was. You knew they were wicked, downright evil, but you hadn't expected them to be this selfish. Your sympathy for them was fading, as was your will to fight against their seductive charm. There must've been something grievously wrong about you to have even looked their way. Perhaps it was the mutual damage, the way you all understood each other so perfectly. Perhaps it was that that let you excuse their past actions. The idea that maybe, just maybe, you could fix them.

You had snapped right out of that attitude when you had seen Agatha act so apathetically about Sharon's death. It may have been the one thing that could have finally let you move past her. But earlier today, when she had tried so desperately to save Teen, redeemed her. You hated that about her - the way she flickered from evil to morally gray. 

And Rio, who balanced out Agatha's wickedness. You felt it, how her eyes always lingered on you. But never for longer than she did with Agatha. 

The reasons against them were stacked, and yet there was still that one part of you that wondered about what a reconciled relationship with them would entail. Most likely more damage to your already fragile mind. Then again, you'd always found that pain turned you on.

The sound of footsteps jolted you out of your train of thought, immediately waking you up from your half-asleep state. 

"Who's there?" you called, failing to mask the fear in your voice.

"Your worst nightmare," a demonic voice resounded, which you instantly recognized to be one of Rio's attempts to humour you.

The witch came into sight, accompanied by the last person you wanted to see right now.

Despite your pronounced hate for them, you couldn't deny that they looked perfect - especially under the glow of the moonlight. 

"What are you doing here?" you murmured, smoothing out a wrinkle in your blouse. 

"Couldn't sleep," Rio replied truthfully, eyeing you up and down. Her gaze finally rested on your hands, where you were nervously playing with your index ring, a habit you'd picked up years ago when she'd first bought it for you. 

However, your attention was directed at Agatha, who had adopted a villainous smirk. Something had changed in her tonight; behind her icy blue eyes hid macabre intentions. It was almost comedic how you still felt like you knew every serrated, damaged inch of her soul. Old habits died hard, you supposed.

"What is it, Agatha?" you asked, failing to hide the tremble in your voice. 

"Oh, nothing," she replied, her tone lilted, "it's just ironic, I suppose. All that 'I'm not yours' bullshit and defiant attitude..."

You tensed as she neared you, noticing the way her eyes glinted at your recoiled stance. In a split second, her fingers wrapped around your throat, trapping you in a chokehold.

"... when we both know why you came."

Her grip tightened, her veins becoming more defined as your breathing shallowed.

"Agatha," Rio admonished, prompting her to relax her grip. 

A soft cackle rang through the air as Agatha stroked your cheek with her free hand, reveling in the way you trembled under her touch.

Flashbacks of the life you'd had with them echoed in your mind, memories of your past encounters hammering at the walls of your skull. It was always the same. Agatha, skillfully inflicting the sweetest torture imaginable on your body, whilst Rio sat back and watched. The mocking, saccharine tone Agatha adopted whilst Rio carved their names into your flesh. The way they forced you past your limits, the long, euphoric nights. 

"So helpless," she jested, dragging out her words. "Now, where have I seen that before?"

Your reply was barely audible, interrupted by a hitch in your breath. "Stop."

Ignoring your plea for mercy, she pulled up your sleeve, releasing her grip on your throat. The faint outline of the words 'RIO' and 'AGATHA' were only just visible, having faded after decades of neglect. Agatha swiveled around, jerking your arm out for Rio to see.

"Would you look at that?" Rio marveled. She tutted softly, before brandishing her dagger. A sadistic smile tugged at her lips as she held it to your throat. You flinched away from the cold metal, beads of red decorating the blade. Your attempts to run away from the dagger were foiled when she swiveled you around and secured you waist with her free hand, the other keeping you in place.

"You were so jealous of Rio earlier, weren't you, pet?" Agatha taunted, relishing in the way your eyes narrowed at the use of her pet name. "You wanted me to leave a scar, didn't you?"

If you hadn't had a blade pressed against your throat, you would have called her out for twisting your words. But, in this instance, you couldn't help but shrink back from their towering presences.

Snorting at your silence, she continued with her onslaught of cruel jokes. "Why so silent? Cat got your tongue?"

"There's a blade to my throat, if you haven't noticed," you snapped, causing Rio to add pressure to your skin.

"There's that nasty attitude again," Agatha proclaimed gleefully, circling around you. "How long has it been since you've been properly punished, sweets?"

You recoiled at her use of the word 'punished', your gaze steeling. "Stop," you murmured, failing to mask the quiver in your voice. "I'm not going to indulge in your sick revenge fantasy."

"Aren't you?"

Rio's voice cut through the tension in the air like a knife through butter, her fingernails digging into the side of your waist. Agatha smirked maliciously, tilting your chin up with her calloused fingers. 

"I don't think you have much of a choice, pet."

Satisfied with your silence as a response, she trailed her fingers down to your blouse, roughly unbuttoning it. She pinched at the peak of your breast, relishing in how it hardened at her touch.

"So sensitive," Agatha murmured, twisting it sharply. A small yelp escaped your lips, reprimanded by a sharp cut to the throat. Hot blood trickled down the wound, staining the witch's fingers.

"Agatha -" you gasped, only to be cut off by the sound of Lilia's voice echoing down The Road.

"They're coming. We have to go."

Glancing at the direction of the voice, Agatha withdrew her hand, causing you to sigh in relief. The sound didn't go unnoticed by the witches. Visibly annoyed, Agatha grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at her.

"This isn't over," she threatened, before dramatically whisking her cape and walking away. Rio followed, but not before dragging her dagger over your throat again. When you didn't budge, she looked over her shoulder, glancing at you expectantly.

"Come on," she said, taking ahold of your arm. "We have to go."

As you trailed behind the witches, the warm, crimson blood trickled down the small wound in your throat, bleeding into the collar of your shirt. To anybody else, it would've just seemed like a simple cut, but you knew what it truly was. A symbol, of their claim over you. Hard, cold proof that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't escape their hold over you. And for some strange, demented reason, you found comfort in knowing that. 

The dynamic between you and them remained ever the same. Agatha and Rio, your sacred protectors, and you, a wolf in the clothing of a sacrificial lamb. And despite your pathetic attempts to hide it, you knew that they understood exactly who you were to the very marrow of your bones. 

That was what scared you about them.

[thesilmarillionblog]

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄

Click here for Series Masterlist.

Summary: In the hopes that things would improve between you, you choose to lose your virginity to your friend Dean Winchester because you have been in love with him madly for a long time. However, he doesn't feel the same about you.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Warnings: +18 (MINORS DNI) smut, virgin reader!, unrequited love, heavy angst, reader gets hurt, kinda friends with benefits, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, fingering, language

Word Count: 7216

A/N: English is not my first language.

Song: 'WASTE' by Kxllswxtch

Dean's eyes narrowed as he treated your wounded hand; you smiled a little to yourself as he talked about how you sometimes behaved recklessly. If only he knew how much you cherished the moments when he protected you during a hunt.

You had been with him and Sam for a year now, and it was difficult to resist falling in love with him. You weren't sure when you fell in love with him, but you sensed it from the moment he smiled at you, or maybe in a random moment. Every time you glanced into his green eyes, you felt a sense of admiration. You had absolutely no complaints. 

He complained as he was working to treat your wound, “You must know, I will consider kicking you out of the team if you keep acting like that.”

It began to rain in your house's weak light. Your heart was filled with fright as he took care of your wound in your house, where you were alone, and it seemed so calm; you were afraid of losing that precious, fragile time with Dean, not of ghosts. You weren't afraid of ghosts. 

You asked naively, as if you had no idea what he was talking about, “Like what?” When he grabbed your hand too tightly unintentionally, and that sudden moment hurt you a bit, you attempted to draw it in toward yourself with a pained gasp. 

With a look of regret on his face, you looked at him with understanding. 

“When I tell you to get behind me, you must do what I say, or when I tell you to stop, you must stop.”

“Remember the previous case in point,” you sighed. “If I did what you told me, we'd both be dead.” You looked up to see how he was feeling. 

“It was only a single exception,” Dean immediately defended himself, rolling his eyes at you. 

“However, if I had listened to you, I would have been killed. You too,” you mutely remarked. You weren't attempting to put the blame on him. You were aware that he was guarding Sam and you constantly. You dropped your eyes to your eyes as he looked at you, feeling instantly overwhelmed and overpowered by his piercing stare. “I promise that when I go hunting, I'm not being careless. I truly listen to you, but you must have some degree of faith in me. Since I joined you and Sam months ago, I'm convinced he has more faith in me.”

You wanted Dean to think highly of you, someone whom he could always trust, just as you trusted him with your life. You wanted him to trust you, your strength, and your feelings. Even if you were quite successful, you felt that he still seemed to be unsure about you.

This time, instead of cracking one of his jokes to lighten the mood, he seemed to be deep in focus. When he appeared so confused and like he was in pain on the inside, you wondered what exactly he was thinking. Though you didn't think you could stop him from ruminating at that moment, you still wanted to help him if he was in pain, calm him down if he was feeling anxious, and comfort him if he was feeling uneasy. 

The sense of worthlessness was an emotion you wanted to stay away from. 

When he noticed that you weren't as happy as you had been minutes before, he stated in a dry voice, “I don't want you to get killed or hurt because of me. I do trust you, but you have to stop acting reckless and try to save me by endangering yourself.”

“I wasn't putting myself at risk. You're exaggerating,” you said as you continued to examine his hands while he continued to take care of your wounded hand. 

“You're very stubborn, aren't you?” In an attempt to soften the thick air, Dean smiled back weakly. 

You chuckled and tried to catch his gaze by raising your head as you drew nearer and moved on to where you were sitting. “But Sam thinks I'm the easiest one to get along with and easiest to persuade,” you said. 

Dean winked at you suspiciously and said, “Hey, I guess you were right about something.”

“About what?” 

“He's dumb when it comes to reading people, huh?” 

You muttered, “Asshole,” and gave him a little leg kick. It made him laugh, which made you joyful. 

Dean let go of your hand, gave you a long, odd smile, and checked his watch after making sure you were okay and being well taken care of. You could feel the joy leave your body when you realized he wasn't going to stay or anything. You had no idea how to get him to stay with you, at least for a day, at your home. Still, he was always on the move. It's fortunate that he didn't hear how quickly your heart was beating, how much you wanted his touch, and everything else.

You said in a hushed tone, as if you didn't give a damn whether he said ‘yes,’ but you cared like crazy. “You can spend the night in here if you wish.”

“I think I have other plans for tonight,” he remarked, flashing you his adorable grin and a wink. “We move so much throughout the day. The town must have missed me.”

You chuckled slightly and said, "By whom exactly, Mr. Loverman?” You noticed that the rain was falling more quickly through the glass. 

Dean gave you a haughty look and stated, “By ladies, of course,” which made you jealous, but you didn't want to show it to him and ruin your friendship.

Playing with the fabric of your sweatpants, you said, “Boys. They come and go.” You attempted to ignore the vivid images of Dean with other women that were playing out in your head. It was unavoidable, but you didn't want to get jealous and mess up everything. “New ones appear all the time. Don't be worried about the women who missed you.” 

He smiled and replied, “You're a smartass, aren't you?” You felt encouraged to continue since he didn't appear to be offended or anything.

“And you're overconfident in yourself. Have you yet to be rejected by someone? Not even once?” You said it inquisitively. 

“Just once,” Dean remarked humorously. It eluded you whether he was being serious or joking. At times, it was difficult to understand him.

You tried to chuckle as you remarked, “Must be fun.”  You sounded like you were going to choke though.

Dean spoke for a little while before attempting to get up and leave your home, but the electricity unexpectedly cut off, leaving you gasping in surprise. You backed away from him with a shy grin, not because you were afraid, just because you realized you had touched his knee. 

You said, “Ah, it doesn't look like the rain is going to stop soon,” and to your relief, he sat back on the seat. As it was pouring heavily, you expressed your gratitude to God and Michael for their generosity and compassion, which you felt had come once in a lifetime.

At least once, you prayed that night's rain would never cease so Dean wouldn't go. 

"Yeah," he said in a dry voice. It was your hope that he wouldn't feel stuck with you and let down. Dean was aware that although you weren't terrified of ghosts, you were fearful of being alone yourself in the dark. “Do you want me to light a candle?”

You timidly replied, “I guess I don't have any.”

“All right.”

“Are you still planning to leave or spend the night?” You tried not to seem enthusiastic as you asked, but with anticipation. You hoped that his ability to read your face in the dark would be poor.

“I suppose it's best if I stay with you. You're a lovely young girl who, in the end, is more terrified of the dark than ghosts. As a gentleman,” he murmured, moving to a more comfortable position on the coach. “It's my responsibility to protect and repay you tonight, don't I?”

You laughed as though he had made a joke, but in reality, you were only finding it difficult to hide your happiness at his answer that he would stay. The angels seemed to fill your heart with such incredible bliss. If it would force him to spend his time with you in that manner, you may put yourself at ongoing risk. You wished he understood how much you valued each and every word he said.

“How about you, though?” Dean asked out of the blue. Although his face was concealing himself in the darkness, you could tell by the tone of his words that he was perplexed. 

You asked, perplexed, not understanding what he was talking about, “What about me?”

“I haven't seen you with...someone in a long time since you joined us,” he said. You may argue that he spoke slowly in order to carefully select his words so as not to offend you or cause you distress. “Actually, I've never seen you with someone nor heard you talking about anyone.” 

You attempted to give him a confident smile, but all you managed to do was give him off an odd look. “Uhm,” you stammered out while attempting to think of anything to say without looking foolish. “Those hunts are challenging and exhausting.” You attempted to explain to him, “I'm not interested in seeing someone right now, and I can't find time for myself.” You were hoping he wouldn't dig too much.

You weren’t the best when it came to lying. 

As if he wasn't okay with your explanation, he grumbled, “We've been staying here for a month, and we are not even that busy.”

You wouldn't tell Dean that you were an inexperienced one in your mid-20s, as you knew he was very skilled with women. You just could not possibly make yourself look so foolish in front of him. You were unsure what he would think about you. Definitely, it was best to remain silent.

You said, “I'm just not interested and feel like I have no time for anyone,” trying not to sound like lying. Although it wasn't a total lie, how in the world could you admit that you were truly interested in someone, him, and that's the reason you weren't interested in anybody else?

You wanted he could read the words on your lips and your voice so you wouldn't have been trying so hard to explain things to him while hiding yourself away from him for so long.

Love was something that both wanted to be hidden and to be revealed. It was complicated and bizarre.

Dean finally responded, “You're right, actually,” after giving you a long stare. “You should avoid things that might distract the focus of your attention. Men might easily split your soft and lovely heart in half.”

You asked, irritated, “Why do you say that?” You always believed that since you avoided people so well, nobody would ever consider hurting you or anything like that.

As he moved a little closer to you, Dean smirked and remarked, “Like you say,” which made you tense. You couldn't see him well, but his smile was joyful. Before continuing, he arched an eyebrow and nibbled his bottom lip. “I'm ladies' man. I read women really well, and you're easy to see through.”

You said to him, “You really are a ladies' man. But I'd say you are illiterate.” 

Dean gave you a small chuckle and made the decision not to push you too far or make you feel more shy. And anyhow, he wouldn't allow you to talk about males, not right now. You did not require guidance since you did well on your own. “Hey, I see that you’re a little sharp today. After taking care of your wounded hand, I made the decision to spend the night with you and look how you treat me. You're being ungrateful.”

He made a false furious look at you, and you couldn't stop laughing. “You do realize, though, that I have once again saved your ass. I'm beginning to feel like you must repay me for acting as your guard. Like an angel.” You gave him a little smile and added, “That means something, right?”

Dean said, “It does,” with the same lighthearted tone as you, his eyes examining your face up close in the dark as your smile slowly faded from the corners of your lips.

You gasped in surprise and fright when an unexpected lightning strike struck with such force it seemed like the sky had been split in half. Dean laughed, seeing as how you really jumped on the coach. 

“I can't believe you're not afraid of ghosts, witches and all, but just some raindrops,” he stated in astonishment. Your pulse beat like crazy when you felt his breath close to you, but Dean probably assumed it was because you were frightened.

Both of your arms and legs touched, but you tried not to react. “I'm not afraid of rainy weather or something,” you replied. “It's normal to be jumpy when an unexpected noise like lightning appears.”

In an attempt to annoy you, Dean said in a persuasive voice, “It was just simple lightning. Many things might come as unexpected. You can't always get scared.”

You said, “Like what things?” as if in plea. 

You stared at his wonderfully shaped lips in the darkness as he spoke in a whisper. Your lips felt so dry that you wanted to lick them. Although you hoped he didn't notice, at that point you weren't really worried. Yes, you were a virgin with no prior experience, and you were very determined to keep your body and mind closed off to others, but things seemed different when you met Dean. It wasn't that you were old-fashioned-minded; you just wanted to be with someone you cared for, someone you loved. 

You were aware that the desire to be near him was more than simply passion; you wanted to touch his face, jaw, hair, and every other part of him. Your soul yearned to be near him desperately. 

Dean failed to notice when another lightning strike made you jump. It wasn't the finest moment for him to think clearly. There was always something enjoyable to do. Given that you've known each other for a while and that it must have been a while since you allowed someone to touch you, it seemed appropriate to blow off steam with each other. It was, after all, a difficult and somewhat tiresome a few hours earlier. 

Just when you thought you were going to pass out, Dean suddenly captured your lips and began to give you an urgent, intense kiss. Yes, you were somewhat inexperienced, but at least you've had a kiss. Quite some time ago, indeed. You made an effort to calm down, returned his kisses with your best effort, let your racing thoughts disappear into the darkness, and gave yourself over to that single perfect moment. 

You sucked Dean's lower lip, and your fingers stroked his jaw as his skillful tongue dominated yours. He must have been encouraged by your response because he moaned a bit as he shoved you back on the coach and pushed you to lie under him. He kept giving you firm kisses throughout.

His muscular neck was stroked by your hands as you drew him in between your knees. You shuddered as he put his body between your legs. It was the realization that your body was missing something that you were unable to identify. Your entire body exuded passion and desire. It hurt to need Dean so much. You had no idea how you had been able to contain yourself for so long.

You were longing to touch him all over.

Dean moved his lips to your throat, allowing you to take a deep breath. You were unable to contain a giggle as he violently sucked on your neck and throat. You realized you were sensitive there.

“Don't keep those lovely noises from me. Are we not the only ones alone in here?” While he boldly touched your skin beneath your shirt, Dean whispered. Though you urged yourself to relax down a little, you felt like your heart would burst at any minute.

It was possible that he might back off if you revealed to him that you were a virgin. It was certain that he would. You attempted to pretend that you had experience too and that it had simply been a long time because he was just interested in hook-ups, and that's what you were going to go through. It hurt to admit it, but maybe things would change.

You never would have imagined that you would feel that way about Dean, and you refused to miss the opportunity to be with him by telling him you weren't deflowered just yet. All you had to do was appear bold and avoid raising suspicion with your awkwardness.

Your cheeks flushed red, but at least the room was completely dark, keeping your almost scared gaze and timid finger movements hidden from him.

Your hands gently slipped inside his t-shirt, touching every muscle in so as to savor it. Your breath quivered with anticipation as your palm brushed every part of him. You could never let someone else touch you in the same manner that Dean did. 

Dean's eyes were on you, and as he nibbled your lower lip, you urged him to remove his shirt. You could see he was smiling a little bit when he pulled it off. That you were prepared to go one step beyond thrilled him. 

You must have pushed your injured hand a little bit hard when you gasped in little pain after both of your hands reached his back and you enjoyed the feeling of his muscles beneath your palms. 

“Hey, be careful and take your time there. Remember that all you are is a wounded gazelle under my mercy. You’re a greedy one, aren’t you?” As he worked on your clothing, Dean said in amusement.

You moaned in surprise as one of his hands slipped into your shirt and gave you a strong grip on your nipple. “Maybe I am,” you murmured, almost laughing, but the noise you made turned into a moan. 

You made a little movement beneath him. It seemed as though your body needed something from you or him, but you were completely unaware of what was going on. All you knew was that you were desperate for Dean to do something. 

You gasped somewhat alarmed as your nipple hardened between his skilled fingertips. As he slid on top of you and played with your tits, you got excited more and more, assuming that he wanted this as much as you did. You thought for a moment that it was actually romantic considering it was all dark and raining like hell outside, like the whole heaven wanted you to be with him.

You nailed Dean's back with boldness, crushed your lips to his once more, kissing him with desire while trying your hardest not to show Dean how shy you were in fact. It relieved you to hear him groan a bit in your mouth. You moaned quietly into his lips as soon as his thumb started playing with your nipples once again. 

Dean moved quickly to help you remove your shirt by pulling back. You were shivering a little, but even though he was making your skin hot, you would have blamed the room's cool temperature if he had asked.

His lips made their way to your nipples, where he expertly sucked them with his tongue. Your back arched as his lips nibbled your breasts delicately, and you forgot about your envious thoughts about how many other women he had treated like this. This time, you were unable to stop your loud moan from filling the room. 

Dean gave both of your nipples little licks and a firm kiss after sucking your tits for many minutes, making them slippery with his spit, and making you cry out beneath his body. You didn't know how pleasurable it was to be with someone doing such things.You were aware that you were attempting to create friction by placing your leg on his hip. 

He whispered to your lips, “I bet you're fucking dripping there,” as his hands gently moved into your sweatpants. He was trying to see every expression on your face in the dark. His voice was rough as he asked, “Are you wet enough to take me?”

You managed to say something like “Hmm,” which is sufficient. “I think I am.” 

“We must be sure,” Dean remarked in a lighthearted manner. “Let's see.” 

Dean slid his fingers slowly inside your sweatpants. He was grinning a little over you when he heard your heartbeat. As you waited for what was going to happen, you gripped onto his shoulder.

His fingers touched your underwear, causing you to gasp in surprise as he gave you a soft touch. Every second, you felt like you were becoming wetter. You believed you might orgasm at any minute since your clit was so sensitive to him. You wanted more because of how ethereal and gentle his hands were. You needed to raise your hip to him and squeeze his bisceps in order to receive what your body craved. 

Satisfied, Dean moved your underwear aside as he watched you twitch under him in desperation. He rubbed your clit some more, then used two fingers to feel how wet you were. 

Dean kept pushing back on his groan. He said in surprise, “Fuck, I knew you'd be wet, but you are literally leaking there.” You had no idea whether or not it satisfied him. All you wanted to do was the right thing. Regardless of what it was. 

You lied when you said, “It's been very, very long,” since you had no idea what to say. The way he responded truly made you feel a little awkward. 

You felt better after sharing quick kisses on the lips with him. “Good,” was Dean's sharp reply. “How many times can I get you to come to me tonight? You deserve appropriate treatment in light of the effort you have been doing these last few months, you know. I must reward you.”

Encouraged, you had a blossoming sensation of bliss and anticipation in your chest. You wished that light would never return and that you and him would always be in the dark together in that very moment.

He touched you during hunts and other times to make jokes, but you didn't used to be physical like that. Watching him being intimate with other women except you was agonizing. But now you knew you could touch him whatever you pleased right now. Just like you imagined when you thought about him, you touched yourself. 

Dean palmed your moisture in his hand, causing you to both pant into each other's mouths. You felt a little uneasy as one of his fingers began to gently press into your entrance since you weren't sure if it would hurt that much or not. You just didn't tell him anything since you didn't want to spoil things. All you did was wait expectantly.

He said, “You're a tight one, aren't you?” as he kept his finger inside of you. You were glad Dean wasn't being swift with you. You withdrew your lips from biting and captured his, pushing him into doing what he needed or desired as well. 

Dean expected that you would be tight, but he didn't anticipate that level of tightness. He was taken aback by how tightly your walls clamped around his finger, and he couldn't help getting thrilled at the thought of feeling your cock around him. He was shivering with excitement coursing through his veins. 

You bit your lip hard in pain as he pressed his thick finger a little further. You didn't make any sound that might have stopped him. Dean would stop in an instant, you knew. 

He must have realized how uncomfortable you were, though, because he began to touch your clit more in an effort to prepare you to become accustomed to him and make you wet enough to take him. 

As he worked on your clit, he remarked, somewhat smirking, “It seems we need to get you ready for me; otherwise, it might be painful a bit for you.”

“I'm prepared. Really,” you said, lifting your hips in the course of action. “You can go on.”

Dean groaned a bit and pressed his finger inside again. He used extreme caution. You whimpered and attempted to make yourself quiet by stealing kisses from him to silence your whimpers. 

Dean withdrew his finger and then thrust it back, not allowing you to say something. His abrupt movement caused your lips to parted in pleasure and enthusiasm. Even though there was still some discomfort, it was soon overshadowed by pleasure and desire as he began to properly finger you. You grabbed onto his shoulders because your pussy hurt from yearning. You tried to put your groaning mouth into Dean's, but he wouldn't let you kiss him. 

You could not help but let a moan out in ecstasy as your back arched when he gently pushed another finger and began to fuck you with them. You made a valiant effort, but it was impossible to avoid coming so quickly and effortlessly.

Dean moaned, “Give it to me,” realizing that you were making it difficult to come. “Come to me now. You're almost there; I know that.”

As soon as your climax hit, Dean grabbed your lips and planted a passionate kiss on it as he touched your chin with one hand, allowing you to ride your pleasure in between moans. 

Your hips rose to get more pleasure as though you could, your back arched, and your walls clenched hard as you rode your climax. Dean's experienced tongue expertly dominated yours as he murmured into your lips. He withdrew to give you a bit of time, and while he did so, he studied your face in the darkness, as if he wanted to remember each and every shadow that passed across your skin in the flickering light. 

He was at a loss as to why he had never touched you before. For a while, at least, it felt pleasant enough to become sidetracked. 

Your cheeks became scarlet as your climax wore on, but you were itching to go one step more. For that, you were ready. For a long while, you had been ready to give Dean everything. 

If he asked, there was nothing you wouldn't give away. 

You planted a hesitant kiss on him to gauge his reaction before your shaky hands made contact with his legs and through his trousers. You could see more of his face as your eyes grew used to the gloom. Your hands became braver as you watched him smile, and boldness invaded your body and thoughts. The sexual experience shouldn't be difficult. Particularly with him.

Shortly after your hand briefly ran over his hardened cock through his trousers, your fingers somewhat slid into his boxer. You were taking your time to gauge his reaction. You were hoping he wouldn't say no, draw a line, or worse, end it up.

You yearned to offer him the same pleasure that he gave you.

In a weak but hopeful voice, you asked, “Can I touch you?”

With a charming chuckle, Dean added, “You can do whatever you like.” His voice carried expectation, which made you thrilled even more.

You reached out and stroked his erect cock, feeling that it was safe to go a step further and meet his gaze with yours. His sly smile vanished from his mouth as he stifled a moan and shifted on top of you, his hand still resting on your thighs and legs. 

He said, “It seems like you're cold,” as soon as you began to touch him. 

You retracted your icy hand in an ashamed attempt to mumble a “sorry,” but Dean reacted swiftly and put your hand back to his aching cock. 

He responded, “We'll get you warm,” and helped you put your hand around his cock to feel closer to him and to give you the confidence to continue. “Your hand feels so good around me.”

Driven by his words, you felt each vein on his cock and then circled your fingers around it to memorize him. You weren't familiar with his length or anything because you weren't an expert on male anatomy, but he was thick, so it was difficult to properly wrap your hands around him. You reasoned that it would be best to take some action to get him to come. 

You moved your hands and began to rub him, trying not to feel shy as you stared into his eyes. Your chest was rising with excitement, and your breathing was heavy. His gasping for air made you pleased and aroused; all you had to do was give him the same pleasure. 

Dean told you, “You're doing so good,” in between strokes. 

You inquired quietly, “Do you like it?”

“I really like it,” Dean said as he planted a kiss on your neck. He paused at your sweatpants and began to carefully lower them with his hands. 

Your hands were moving more quickly on him, and your heart was racing. He felt larger in your grip. He was nearly there. But Dean gently stopped you, pushing your hands aside and planting a kiss on your lips. You sensed that the big move was about to happen.

He saw you were becoming stiff as he assisted you in taking down your sweatpants and underwear, so he questioned you suspiciously, “Are you nervous?”

You lied once more while waiting for him to remove his clothing. “No, of course, not,” you said. When he removed his boxer, you could have practically felt the chills beneath you. You had everything you had on the floor. “It's just cold in here.”

“Trust me, you'll feel warm very soon,” said Dean confidently. His tone had hints of dedication. 

You shifted slightly beneath him to find a more comfortable position. Luckily, there was plenty of room in the coach. You put your hands on Dean's back, feeling his hardness on your stomach, and you waited for him to do something already. Though plainly aroused and moist, you were still a little anxious. You

didn't want to come seem as inexperienced, though. You wished for this to keep going. 

“I do trust you.” That was true at least. 

Dean believed you.

While you waited, he took his cock and gave himself two or three strokes. Witnessing him stroking himself got you even more aroused.

Dean positioned himself on your entrance, making you tense up a little, then brushed his hard cock on your clit after making sure you were both ready. But you were determined to see it through to the end. It was almost like a chance to win him over in a romantic way. Maybe.

He pressed the tip of his cock, and you laid your hands on his back and nailed him like crazy. He was able to slide inside you very easily because of how wet you were, yet it was still uncomfortable and painful.

You bit your lip to suppress your agonizing groans and not to make him stop, so as not to seem like a wounded animal or anything.

Dean groaned over you, “Fuck, you are really tight,” pausing just before pulling away. It was difficult for him to fit inside completely.

You whispered to him, embarrassed, “Sorry,” attempting to calm down and let him in.

“Just relax,” Dean said, taking another position. You nodded to him quickly. 

He again pushed his cock inside of you. This time, your pussy was around him tightly, drawing him within. He let out a sigh of delight at that. Your eyes welled up with tears as he withdrew and used a forceful motion to push himself forward. It was as though he was slicing you in two. Thankfully, he was unaware that a few tears had trickled down from your eyes onto the coach. However, you were unable to cease whimpering in pain. 

Dean sensed when you were ready and gave himself a single, full thrust. You nailed his belly and back and moaned in agony this time because of his harsh moment. 

You were no longer a virgin while you were lying beneath him. Even though the man you loved was unaware that you had given him something unique, you knew that no matter what happened, you would never regret it. 

“Are you okay?” Dean asked. He could not believe how tight you were. Your walls were drawing him in, constricting around him all the while. If he was less experienced, he would have come inside you as soon as he entered your pussy. 

“I am,” you urged him to continue, your voice quivering. “Just give me a moment, please.”

Dean gave you a kiss to help you relax. He saw that you were a bit anxious and that you needed to wet yourself a little more before you could handle him. He was sure sloppy kisses would be helpful.

Dean stepped back after a while and questioned, “Are you ready now?” You were clenching around him, and his patience was getting thin.

You nodded to him, and Dean retreated and pushed inside again without waiting another moment. The way he fucked you was rough and painful for you. You didn't complain though, even if it was hard to get used to his size and pace in such a short amount of time. He moved slowly at first, but as you got wetter beneath him, he accelerated his pace.

Dean moaned, “You're taking me so well,” while fucking you in a rough way. His delighted tone and praises made your heart sing. “I like how tight you are.”

You only said, "For you." His compliments caused the anguish to become joy, and this time you didn't suppress your moans. You had no idea that you would enjoy this so much. 

“Oh yeah?” he said, teasing as he whispered into your neck, picking up speed. “You sound so sweet. Do you like the way I fuck you? I should have fucked your lovely tight cunt sooner.”

Your face turned red the moment he spoke dirty words into your ear. They were about how much he liked fucking you everything else. The whole room was filled with sloppy and obscene sounds that made you blush with shyness. You were becoming even more excited at the sound of his heavy balls hitting your pussy. You began to tighten up around him. Although you were trying to hold back to extend the moment, you were getting close. 

“This won't take long,” he groaned, getting his fingers tense around your flesh. It was difficult for Dean to control himself. You were tightening around him, whimpering beneath him. “Come to me. Come now!”

When Dean moved around a little inside of you, he started to fuck you harder and find your sensitive spot. With a groan, “Take it. Come on,” he said, fucking you senseless. 

You reached your climax and clenched him with his name on your lips as your screams became louder and you were unable to contain yourself any longer. Dean proceeded to fuck you throughout your climax by lifting your hips and drawing his body to you in order to receive more pleasure. You believed you might come again right there since your pussy was throbbing so much. 

After Dean made sure you rode your orgasm, he let out a deep grumble, pulled out his cock in between your startled gasps, and began to stroke himself. You became excited by his stroking himself on top of you, even though you had just rode your climax. 

When Dean began to empty himself on your thigh and stomach, you jumped. You waited for him to empty himself as you saw him spill his hot white ropes all over your body. You glared in shock as you watched him riding his pleasure.

You were no longer a virgin there, under him. It had happened. You were aware that he was only a friend and that the situation was really a bit awkward. You waited for remorse to surface, thinking that nothing would change with him, but it didn't. You didn't feel any sign of regret. Giving something unique to a loved one, even if it held no significance for them, was never wrong. After all, love was generous, and it always needed to consume the untouched places of your body and spirit.

With a low grunt, Dean moved your bodies on the coach and, to your astonishment, embraced you. It was obvious that he was satisfied. Dean grabbed the blanket that was hanging from the coach's corner and laid it over your bodies. You trembled as the heat took the place of the cold. You simply drew nearer to him to enjoy the moment because you had no idea what to do. You pondered whether this would occur once again. 

Jokingly, you said, “What now?” Still, a lot of questions raced through your head.

Dean sighed and said, “It's pretty late and seems like the rain won't stop any soon, so let's sleep.” You remained silent regarding what had transpired. 

Saying, “Okay,” you leaned into his embrace and made an effort to keep as close to him as you could. The thrill you had just had began to gradually fade away, leaving you alone yourself with despair and sadness. 

Dean remarked, “By the way,” before he closed his eyes. “Let's not talk about this to Sam or someone else, alright?” Though gentle and soothing, his words were sharp and cut you through. 

You said, “Sure,” immediately away. “Of course not.” 

As though nothing had occurred and you weren't naked in each other's arms, you told each other good night. Although it was awkward, you made the choice. When you made the decision to go all the way with him, you knew that was what would happen. 

You got out of bed before Dean did, picked up your clothes from the floor, and headed to the bathroom for a long shower. Whatever is done is done. It was irreversible; you convinced yourself. Nothing was a regret for you. You were relieved that it only happened with Dean. It was the appropriate decision for you to keep the details from him. He wasn't made to feel oppressed by you or anything. This would ruin the friendship and also ruin you. 

Dean also woke up, and you two didn't chat much after that. You felt a little uncomfortable, but as soon as Dean returned to his lighthearted demeanor, you felt at ease and acted naturally. When you saw he didn't put distance between you, you felt relaxed. 

That's how three weeks went by. Everything was well. 

Following a disastrous hunt that left Sam with an arm injury, you enter their home and assist Sam in taking care of his arm. The hunt this time was challenging, and you were distracted. 

Sam was giving you and Dean one of his puppy looks. You felt terrible. 

With remorse, you murmured, “I'm sorry, Sam.” He injured his harm in order to protect you, yet he didn't blame you for anything. You have probably never met someone as kind as he was. 

He said, “It's okay,” and made an agonizing moan as you carefully cleansed his arm. 

Dean snapped, “It's not,” in a harsh voice. He was across the room, observing Sam and you. He had his fists crossed over his chest, obviously frustrated with the current state of things. After all, Sam was his brother. “There, you should have been careful. Sam could have hurt badly because of you.”

“I know,” you said, panicked. “You are right.”

“I don't think so,” Dean stated sharply, glancing at Sam's injured arm. “You've been distracted for a while. I attempted to ignore it and hide the mistakes you made, but today they could end up killing Sam.”

Your pulse raced, and you felt guilty as you proceeded to handle Sam's arm carefully. As he persisted in blaming you, you found it difficult to contain your emotions. 

“It won't happen again,” you stated in a tremulous tone while keeping your gaze on Sam's arm. 

“It's alright. Dean, please stop being so grumpy,” Sam eventually pleaded in an insistent voice.

“You shut up,” Dean said, gesturing to Sam as if he were a little child. In fact, you were aware that he remained a child in Dean's eyes.

As you began to wrap a white cloth around Sam's injured arm, he groaned and pressed his groan back. “You're being annoying right now,” he said.

“I'm going to be more annoying if you two keep acting like this, you know.”

You said, “I'm really sorry,” and you gave Dean and Sam sincere looks. “It really won't happen again.”

Dean nodded at you quickly and sighed. However, it was clear that he was frustrated with you. “He's all I have.”

“I know.”

You and Sam didn't say anything further about what had transpired. Thankfully, despite his curious and suspicious stare, he remained silent. To get better, you had to gather yourself. But it was challenging. You questioned whether being near Dean worked as a deterrent for him to stay away from you. 

A week went by, and Dean came home with a blonde woman by his side as you and Sam were spending the night in the house eating pies and watching a movie.

Jealousy took over you, but you smiled and greeted them instead of pulling a grouchy face and making a scene. Dean's hookups and lovers became routine to you. The things that had happened weeks ago weren't important, even if it was hard to admit. Not a word about it was spoken. 

Last several days, Dean had been annoyed, but when he kissed the blonde, he was a completely different person. Happier, more relaxed. Though your heart was pounding from pain and suffering, your gaze remained riveted on the TV. It was pathetic how much you wanted to be her. It was a hard swallow. 

When she, Dean, or Sam told you something, you smiled and engaged in conversation so as not to arouse suspicion. They eventually made their way to Dean's room, and this is when your eyes started to well up with tears. You were unable to stop it. You uttered a little sound as your heart gripped with so much agony and suffering. You had no idea why. It might all have been different, but it wasn't.

Sam saw your eyes become wetter in the light, and he gave you a dubious look, but none of you said anything. 

You longed to travel back in time as soon as you heard it began to rain outside. This time, you weren't fond of the rain or how it felt. 

Next Chapter

A/N: I hope you like it. Let me know what you think, please.  ^^

[websterss]

COMMON COLDS — GUILDFORD DUDLEY

REQUEST: Can I request one for Guildford Dudley x fem reader, in which they have been friends and courting for a really long time and she faints or get sicks and Guildford is really worried about her and stuff. @arianagrandes-things

WARNING(S): angsty, some fluff

WORD COUNT: 2,466

PAIRING: Guildford Dudley x Ethian!Reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed! Gracie Abrams "I love you, I'm sorry" song has me sat and on a writing spree LMFAO

MASTERLIST

Guildford could not help the way his heart fluttered upon the mere sound of your joyous laughter. He felt boyishly in love with you watching you take off into a sprint through the field of flowers. Your carefree nature and optimism made him love you more and more each day.

He had let you get as far as you could before he’d begin running after you to catch you in his arms. Though you hadn’t made it very far before you stumbled to a stop.

“I don’t believe you understand our little game. Would you care for a refresher?” His smile faded as he slowly approached you. “Y/n…Are you alright-“ He barely got out before he hurried to you, preventing your head from colliding with the ground. “Y/n! Bertie!” He shouted for the servant. “Somebody help!” It was way into the evening that he realized he was practically screaming into the void. He grew startled when you morphed into your Ethian form. A golden beauty with fur, you now lay as a golden retriever in his arms. He didn’t waste a moment to bring you back to the house. He held you close, in hopes to not jostle you around too much.

He entered the manor, shouting at the top of his lungs for help. “Somebody help! Somebody! Please help!” Before he could catch the attention of any staff, he was interrupted. “What in God’s name has got you in a tizzy, Master Guildford? Oh, dear heavens?” Bertie gasps as she catches sight of your Ethian form.

A few feet from the stairs you had turned again. Your delicately soft features graced him again. “Y/n, can you hear me?” He tapped your face lightly. He was met once again with silence, and then once again you had taken your animal form. He huffed in disbelief, as he hurried to get you to your shared bedroom. "I need you to send word for Miss Lady Jane Gray. Her presence is needed here, right away!"

The journey to the bedroom seemed to have taken an eternity, though it had really been only a few minutes. You had shifted back and forth between your human form and animal form five times more before you were finally settled into the bed. Once Guildford managed to get you into the room, he closed the door behind him and gently set you on the bed. He sat on the edge of it, staring in disbelief as your snout and floppy ears lolled to the side. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, waiting for you to shift back.

“Fuck! Why aren’t you changing back?!” He barked. Without thinking, he began to pet you. His hands ran through your soft fur as he ran the pad of his thumb over your velvety black nose. “Please…” He murmured as he continued to run his hand over your body. To his slight relief, he felt you starting to shiver. The shaking in your limbs started from your paws and then up through your body. In seconds, you had changed back into your human form. You were a sweating mess and you trembled uncontrollably as you lay on top of the duvet.

Guildford’s breath hitched at the sight of you in your weakened, fragile state. “Y/n, can you hear me?” He reached out again to gently touch your shoulder. He received no reply. Your body rippled once more and you were nothing more but a dog before him. "Jane will be here soon enough. You'll be as good as new and begging me to take you on a walk in the evening again." He mustered a faint laugh before he felt his chest cave in. Soft tears trickled and spilled down his face. "I'm sure of it."

-

Jane's travels to their home had been about half a day's worth. Rupert had ensured her safe passage.

The sun had risen and set by the time Guildford had greeted Jane at your room. He didn't hesitate to make his way up to the second landing after the day reached its evening call. His paces determined to see if your state had improved throughout the afternoon.

When he reached the bedroom door, he paused for a moment in the doorway. His eyes fell on you lying motionless as the same, golden retriever. Before he could take a step into the room, he heard a soft voice say behind him, “Guildford?”

Guildford jumped and twisted around to face the soft, familiar voice. “Jane…I didn’t hear you come in.” He gave her a meek smile before he turned his attention to you. "T-Thank you for coming…Y/n, she's been-" He trailed off.

“How long has she been like this?” Jane looks at you, watching your figuration switch back and forth between your human self and dog-like self. She counted a ten-second interval. It was how long before your transformation began and ended within each shift.

“It's been an evening and a day. It has been an endless cycle of transforming from her Ethian form and herself. It's almost as...she can't control it. I'm more afraid of her stopping in her dog form and not being able to transform back...Can you help her?"

Guildford watched as Jane studied you. Her eyes darted along the length of your body, now turned fur, then your face, now turned snout, then down to your feet, now turned into paws, her eyes darting amongst you. She finally let out a huff and returned her gaze to Guildford. "Fever, trembling of the body, uncontrollable transformation…Does Y/n get ill often?"

"Never. Y/n has always had the constitution of a horse, no jesting intended. She's hardly ever been unwell. She has never been this poorly…" Guildford's face paled as realization hit him. He looks up at Jane, wary. "What of her systems? Do you believe her to be severely ill? The affliction?"

Jane gave a thoughtful look as she mulled the possibility over, then shook her head. "In short, no. Some Ethians are hardy and hard-to-off people." Her face gave a small, reassuring smile, "A fever of this magnitude, for one, cannot kill you, but this much I'm certain…Your beautiful healthy fiancé has nothing more than a mere cold…" Jane's smile widened as she shook her head.

Her comment had brought on a moment of levity, and Guildford chuckled in return. Guildford’s eyes widened in disbelief. Did he hear that correctly?

"A cold? You surely jest. All of this worry for such a common ailment?" Guildford exhaled a quiet huff of air that he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. He looked back at you, relief sprouting like roots within him. "A cold? A common cold can do this to her. Here I was afraid I was losing my wife to whatever disease plagues the country only for you to examine her and diagnose her state as a cold." A small, nervous laugh escaped him.

"Indeed." Jane chuckled to herself as she observed the look of relief and disbelief from Guildford. "Y/n is fine. I'm certain she'll wake up in a few days. The illness will pass," She tried to reassure him as she continued to watch your body change back into your canine form. "However, you, on the other hand, look like you've hardly slept a wink."

Those words struck a nerve. His lack of restful sleep through the day was a sore spot for him to say the least. Guildford ran a hand through his hair and huffed, "I'm exhausted, to say the least. I couldn't…I didn't want to leave her alone, but dawn neared, and I…She fainted in the meadow Jane. She fell in my arms, and wouldn't wake. The relief of knowing that I won't lose her, that she only has to bear a cold is solacing." Guildford glanced at you to ensure you hadn't changed before he continued. "I'll be sure to rest once you've given me proper instructions on what to do." Guildford turned his focus back to her, waiting for her instruction.

"Keep her warm, ensure that she's hydrated, and give her plenty of rest. Keep a cold wet cloth on her forehead to help with the fever. Ask Bertie to make her a broth, to add mint. I think I may have some herbs that will help with a cough though she doesn't appear to have one at the moment, but if she does then give her these. One contains Sage and the other Mullein, best if taken as a tea. Her transformations are within 10-second intervals, if I'm certain, they'll slow down. For now, she'll transform multiple times in a day from what I've observed, but I would keep an eye on her." Jane smiled at him softly, "Send for me if something else occurs. I'll be here as soon as I can." She places her hand on his shoulder.

Guildford could tell Jane's reassurances were well-intended, but he felt himself wanting more. He didn't know if he was being over-worried or not. "You're absolutely sure that there's nothing else? She'll be absolutely fine?" He gave her a look that begged for further assurance.

"She's strong and healthy as a horse. I'm certain she will pull through this."

Guildford chuckled at her words, hoping that his worries would be unfounded. "You're quite right about that." He turned to look at you in your canine form again. "Thank you, Jane." He mumbled quietly.

"I'd do anything for you and Y/n. You know of this as I know that she is your reason to live. She's my best friend, but she's your world. I'd hate for her to be taken from you...from me."

Guildford was touched by her words and felt himself almost break down again. He'd been in pieces for the past few hours. Jane was right; you were his world. Everything about you was the very air that he breathed. He'd fall apart if you were dead, or worse, taken.

He looked over to Jane not denying her truth, giving her a shaky nod and faint smile. She tilted her head before rushing over and letting him lean into her embrace as he sat in the chair. It wasn't long before his body shook with uncontrollable tears.

She hadn't meant to cut off his needed crying, but she was brought back to what he said early. "Wait, you said wife."

"What?" He wiped at his eyes, bewildered as she shoved at his shoulders.

"You said, wife!"

"Yes, I said wife. Because she is my wife," Guildford sputtered out. He was still very upset and slightly confused by her interrogation of his wording.

"You married without me there to bear witness, you bastards!" She gasped at him. "When did this occur?"

Guildford felt his heart begin to beat with anxiety because of Jane's tone, and her question alone. He came to a small realization.

You didn't tell her shit.

"Oh fuck, she never told you? I-It was a simple, private affair! Small ceremony. She did not want to wait."

"Could have waited for me!"

"She didn't want to! We-I...We just couldn't be apart from one another a second longer than we had to!" The panic in him was slowly dwindling into annoyance. "Y/n was impatient, she wanted out of her mother's house as soon as the chance allowed for it. You know how infuriating that woman is, gods I would want out of that house too-" He began pacing. "-And I could not bear another moment not being her husband. So we got married, we are married!" His voice began to grow louder as his face flushed. "She is my wife, I am her husband. Husband." He held up his left hand to display his ring. Then he went to grab your wrist lifting it in the air for Jane to see your beautiful golden band. In the midst, your hand transformed into a paw. "Wife- Oh!" He placed your arm down gently. "We did not think about the ramifications! We only thought of each other! So forgive me Lady Jane if you were not in attendance to bear witness to our unity as man and wife!" Guildford exhaled, taking a few moments to calm himself. He ran his hands through his hair.

"Was she beautiful?" She pouted. "Tell me everything. I want to know. Was her dress perfect?"

Guildford paused his pacing as a smile broke out over his face.

"Oh, gods. Beautiful hardly describes the way she looked. It was as though…the angels of heaven descended from their clouds and wrapped her in the finest silks and satins, and jewels. She was immaculate." Guildford looked over at you as you transformed back to yourself. The memory of you in your wedding dress flashed before his eyes and a wide smile spread across his face. The image of you walking down the aisle was still his most prized memory. He'd always said that you glowed like the sun itself, the only sun he could love. "Gods, she was breathtaking. I bedded her the moment we arr-"

"Ah, no! She doesn't tell me everything for good reason!" Jane shivered, covering her ears. "Shameless!" She shook her head at him.

Guildford chuckled at her disgust. "It was our wedding night," He held up his hands in defense. "What is a man to do after marrying the love of his life?" His cheeks flushed as he remembered the memorable evening. He looked up to find Jane feigning a gag. "Oh, don't be so prudish! She's my wife! It would have been a sin to not have bedded her!" He gave her a look of mock offense, but he was amused by her. "And besides, you didn't have to know." A wicked little smile pulled at his mouth. "Now you will never be able to un-know. You can never un-know that I bedded my wife on our wedding night." He said the words in a sing-song voice that drove Jane up a wall.

"You're insufferable, Guildford Dudley!" She huffed at him, throwing up her delicate arms.

"And yet...you adore me for it all the same," He said, flashing her a signature Dudley smirk. "You're acting as though I broke some code of womanly etiquette. You asked for the details and I gave you the answers! No, I gave you the truth! A wife should be loved and ravished by her husband…frontward and backward." He tried to make a serious face but his growing smile betrayed him. He flinched away from Jane's bewildered look, her hands shooting out to smack him silly.

"Animal!" She gasped.

"I am...I was." He smirked at her. "With her. You may leave now, thank you for your help." He sighed pushing her out of the bedroom. Winking at her a farewell before shutting the doors in her face. "Goodnight."

"Bastard!"

[stylesluxx]

stable – a.hotchner

[warnings: hotch in the hospital, anxious reader]

summary: in which y/n visits hotch in the hospital

word count: 888

main masterlist

The drive to the hospital was suffocating. No matter how many windows you rolled down, it wasn't nearly enough air. Your hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly, trying to focus on the fact that he was safe and alive.

Emily's voice echoed in your ears. "Stable," is all that you can hear. It was the last thing you heard before you hung up on your friend and raced out of the office.

The word was fragile, as if it could break any moment but it gave you hope. But the thought of what happened to your fiance, Aaron, weighed on you. It brought your heart down to your ankles.

When you get to the hospital, you don't remember parking, how, or where. You rushed through the sterile halls, the beeping of the monitors and the smell of antiseptic making your skin crawl. You couldn't believe you wanted to be a nurse. Because at this moment you couldn't stand hospitals. The idea of Aaron being hurt—of him lying somewhere behind one of those doors—is unbearable.

As you reach the nurse's station, your breath is short as you try to remain calm. "Aaron Hotchner. Where is he?"

The nurse glances up, her face softening as she senses your panic. "He's in Room 407. He's stable and awake now," she says reassuringly, hoping to calm you down.

Stable.

You nod and make your way to his room, your heart pounding. Your steps quicken as you approach the door. For a moment, you hesitate. You've been trying to hold yourself together since Emily's call, but now reality is starting to hit you in a way you weren't prepared for.

You take a deep breath and push the door open.

And there he is—sitting up in the hospital bed, pale but very much alive. His eyes find yours the moment you step inside, and the tightness in your chest eases just a little. He's okay and he's right there.

You rush to his side, ignoring everyone else in the room. Your hands are shaking as you reach out for him.

"Aaron..."

He looks at you, his dark eyes soft, but you can see the exhaustion in them, the pain he's trying to hide.

"Hey," he says, his voice low, rougher than usual. "I'm okay."

You take his hand gently, brushing your thumb over his knuckles as if reassuring yourself that he's here.

"Em... Emily said it was Foyet?" You whisper, your voice catching in your throat. "He stabbed you."

Aaron nods, his jaw tightening at the mention of George Foyet.

"Yeah. But I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, but the weight of the fear remains. You sit down next to his bed, never letting go of his hand.

"I was so scared," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

His thumb moves softly against your hand, a gesture of comfort even in his weakened state.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I didn't want you to worry."

"You can't not expect me to worry, Aaron. Not when something like this happens."

He doesn't argue. His eyes soften as he looks at you, the unspoken emotions heavy between you two. You can see it—the guilt he's carrying. The sense that, somehow he let you down by getting hurt, even though that's the last thing you should be feeling.

You glance at the bandage peeking out from under his hospital gown, your stomach twisting at the sight.

"What did the doctors say?"

"They said I'll recover. It'll take some time, but I'll be fine," he says quietly.

You close your eyes for a second, letting more relief wash over you. He's going to be okay. He's here and alive you remind yourself. That's what matters. But the thought of how close you came to losing him makes your chest ache.

"I wish I had been there. I should've been there but I was working late," you quickly let out, unable to hide the tremor in your voice.

Aaron shakes his head, gently squeezing your hand.

"No, this is not something you want to be a part of. You shouldn't have to see any of this."

He's trying to protect you like he always does but it doesn't make the fear go away.

"I know you don't want me to worry, Aaron, but I can't just switch it off. I worry about you. I love you. You can't ask me to not feel any way when stuff like this happens."

"I know," he says just above a whisper. "I know. I just hate that you have to be scared because of me."

Tears sting the back of your eyes but you blink them away, not wanting to break down in front of him.

"It's because I love you. And because I am terrified that I will lose you one day," you say softly.

For a moment, the room is silent, besides the bums and beeps of the machines around you.

Aaron looks at you as if trying to memorize your face as if he'll never see you again.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promises with a steady voice.

You nod, squeezing his hand tighter, holding onto him like he's the most important thing in the world. Because to you, he is.

[AN: i usually have something to say but today I don’t ☝🏾 here's my taglist]

[go6jo]

(one can only truly feel with their eyes closed) s.gojo

it’s three in the morning and satoru is standing outside your bedroom door, pinching his bottom lip in between his fingers while anxiously awaiting your arrival. you should’ve been back before midnight and there is something unfamiliar stirring inside him, something that is rendering him restless. there is a heavy lump on his throat that is making it hard to swallow and he can feel himself starting to feel sick.

satoru was born bearing the curse of atlas, the world weighing a little too heavy on his shoulders ever since he was little. the body of a child is a frail one and satoru had been too scrawny at the time, bones too fragile to handle all of that weight by himself. he’d fallen on his knees one too many times and had struggled to stand up on his own until he had grown to become something akin to a god, one who barely even knew fear. 

satoru reaches for the phone in the pocket of his sweatpants, waiting for something, a call, a text even - anything to let him know that you’re okay.

however, his head is quick to turn at the sound of heavy footsteps echoing throughout the entire floor when he catches sight of your silhouette emerging from the shadows on the other end of the poorly lit hall. he feels his heart cave in on his chest for you, eyes softening and full of compassion when he notices the sole of your feet dragging laboriously against the floor, weary and sore after being away for so long and having just traveled all the way back here, back to him. 

ten days to be precise. that's how long you’ve been gone. and when you manage to make your way along the seemingly endless corridor, so very tired from your lengthy mission overseas, satoru can visibly see your body cease its fight against gravity as you let yourself collapse into him. he is so quick to guide your arms that had fallen limp by your sides to wrap themselves around him, pulling you closer, craving the proximity after having longed for your touch every day for the past week and a half. he follows it by looping his stronger ones around you, offering you the stability you need, holding you and welcoming you back with a quiet good girl whispered to the crown of your head. 

in the quietude of the moment, while trying to recover from the fretful state he had induced himself into, satoru realizes now that fear has become a constant in his life.

“you’re late” he threads his fingers through your hair, soothing away your fatigue though he thinks he might have just lulled you to sleep because you’re standing so still, breathing so softly. at your lack of response, his hand cups the back of your head tilting it upwards and your lips begin to part, ready to protest but it’s only then, when you meet his gaze, that you become aware of the distress graven on his handsome features, brows furrowed and bottom lip swollen with the indents of his remaining anxiety, teeth merciless as they tried to chew away the nerves in his system.

satoru is always so good at hiding his feelings. he might’ve been terrified out of his mind, but hardly anything gives it away. his voice never wavers when he speaks and his hands have such a steady grip on you that his inner turmoil would’ve almost gone undetected. almost. because concern is so easily discernible in his eyes - his eyes are so honest, as honest as satoru gets. they have always let on more than his words — they’re his biggest strength and yet his biggest weakness, his blindfold keeping any vulnerability from seeping through.

“i know but i'm here” you close your eyes when his thumb rubs the spot between your eyebrows “my flight got delayed and i didn’t wanna wake you up with a phone call”

“i wasn’t sleeping” not until i know you’re safe.

“i’m alright, satoru. im here” you two speak in whispers like two kids sharing a secret, your voice barely audible as you lean your cheek against his chest, a hand rubbing circles over his heart.

a placid wave of silence envelops the two of you in its calm embrace as you take your time to touch, to grab and to squeeze — to let your hands get acquainted with each other’s skin again — you swear you feel him shiver against you, when you caress the skin behind his ear, where you know it’s sensitive.

“let’s get inside, baby.”

you nod against his chest and squeeze him in your arms one last time before you pull away to unlock your bedroom door. you lace your fingers together with his and pull him along, dropping your luggage somewhere in a corner and not even bothering to turn on the lights instead guiding him towards the bed that you’ve shared during so many other nights before — so eager to be cradled in his arms, to drift off in the warmth of his presence. but when satoru drops his head to your shoulder from behind, you halt all movements, stopping in your tracks.

he doesn’t say a word, just moves the palm of his hand gingerly up the skin of your exposed arm, only stopping where the strap of your dress sits on your body, gripping the fabric in his fist, begging to see you, whole. to make sure there is not some invisible force holding you together and that you won't fall apart under his fingers. he still touches you so carefully as if you will.

for a long time now, satoru has worried that the eyes he has relied on throughout his entire life might fail him sooner rather than later. reality can be deceiving and he has grown to harbor a certain skepticism towards it. after all, his best friend had met his demise at his own two hands, had taken his last breath in his arms, however, that unfaithful day in shibuya there he stood, intact - alive. satoru is now imbedded with a constant feeling of uncertainty, doubting what otherwise he would’ve believed to be the undeniable truth.

you lift your hand to rest over his, loosening the grip he has on the fabric of your garment before you slide both straps off your shoulders, letting your dress fall to the ground and revealing your partially nude body to satoru’s prying gaze. he closes his eyes with a sigh that makes the hairs on the back of your neck raise in anticipation. he brushes a few strands away before he presses a kiss to the mound of your neck where your spine protrudes your flesh, where your skin is most tender and delicate, feeling the subtle bumps of your skin against his lips — the way your body reacts to him proof that you’re not just some hallucination. that you’re here. that you’re alive and well. 

he figures he is so much more in tune with his surroundings whenever he’s not looking. his eyes are closed shut yet the way you shudder under him when he runs the tip of his finger up the curve of your spine, the little sounds you make, the gasp that unintentionally escapes your lips when he lays the most gentle of kisses on the shell of your ear — he’d know you anywhere, even with his eyes closed. he knows the way you feel, the way you sound, the way you smell. even blind, his other four senses would still lead him to you.

he touches you until your skin starts feeling feverish under his fingers, wishes you’d just melt into him and would fill in every crevice in his body until he’s so completely covered in you he can barely breathe. and when he needs more, he carries you to bed in his arms then lies you down in the white linen sheets. he reaches for the back of his shirt and tugs it off before taking the spot next to you, yearning for the feeling of his skin against yours.

he kisses your collarbone, left then right, worshiping you whole, paying equal attention to every part of your body, then dips lower to kiss over your sternum. he loves on the freshly inflicted wounds on your skin then proceeds to run his tongue over the newly healed scar that runs diagonally on the flesh of your stomach — your taste, that, too, he has memorized by heart.

“i always come back looking worse than when i left” and it's supposed to be a lighthearted joke because you're smiling and your tone is somewhat playful but it makes satoru wonder if you think he loves you any less because of it.

sometimes it’s hard baring yourself to satoru like this, he knows it. your scar ridden body a striking contrast to his almost pristine, untouched one. however, it’s on nights like this one where you feel closest to him, laying bare your insecurities to him and, in return, he entrusts you with his — more often than not as he impulsively lets them escape his lips in the form of strangled moans against the sweaty skin of your neck, telling you he loves you. don’t ever leave. i don’t know what i’d do if i lost you, too.

“you returned, baby. that’s all that matters.” he utters against your belly then comes to rest on your chest, ear pressed atop your heart.

satoru has grown fond of the sound of your pulse lulling him to sleep, slow and steady. he unwraps his arms from around you, moving his hands up your sides until they settle around your ribs, feeling the way your lungs fill up with air, his head moving up and down, in sync with your heaving chest. he smiles fondly to himself, every heartbeat, every breath you take a reminder of the life flowing inside you.

he looks up, eyes searching for your face after a few minutes have gone by since you stopped playing with his hair. he had wanted to protest but then he takes in the image of you, mouth slightly agape, a subtle frown on your face — an angel lying under him. so fragile, so innocent.

you're sound asleep and satoru is overcome with the intensity of the sheer adoration he feels towards you when he comes to the realization that you had felt so at peace in his arms it had only taken you a couple minutes to doze off. it is as if your body reacts to his presence on its own, telling you that it's okay to let your guard down, that it’s safe around him. to him, there is no bigger privilege than to know his touch brings you such tranquility — that he’s your safe haven.

upon further inspection, however, as his eyes linger on you for a little longer, there’s a cold shiver that makes its way up satoru’s spine when he notices how still you are, barely even moving. apart from the subtle rise and fall of your chest, you’re so inert, so lethargic. so lifeless.

and suddenly it is as if there is not enough oxygen in the room as he finds himself gasping for air, lungs growing heavier by the minute as he starts to drown in mirages of your inanimate body in his arms, hands clammy and fingers digging into the flesh of your ribs instinctively, out of desperation, as if he’s trying to stay afloat.

he calls out your name once, and he would’ve felt bad for waking you up but, right now, he can’t even seem to think straight. he could be so selfish at times still you never resented him for it. so he calls for you again.

you don’t answer at first, his voice too weak to even pull you out of sleep. satoru hoists himself up on the bed, lying sideways next to you, his body looming over yours as he brushes the strands of hair that are sticking to your forehead away from your face — your complexion looks so much paler under the moonlight.

“baby.” he calls in between heavy breaths, eyes frantic searching for something. anything. this time you stir in your sleep, turning around and nuzzling into the crook of his neck as if seeking for the heat of his body on instinct alone. he sighs releasing some of the tension inside him “baby.” though there is still a hint of urgency in his voice.

“im sleepy, satoru” he can barely hear you as you bury yourself deeper into his neck.

“i know, baby. i know” he tries to soothe you, cradling your head closer to him but pulling you away from him just as quick, grabbing your cheeks in between the palms of his hands and gently holding your head up to take a look at you instead. your eyes remain closed, still so heavy with sleep.

“just need you to say my name.” it sounds like a desperate plea.

“satoru.” you barely even manage to mumble as you lean deeper into his touch, lips brushing against the sensitive skin on the inside of his hand. moving only on instinct still, too drowsy to even make sense of what is happening, to notice his agony.

“that’s it.” he pecks you on the lips “again.” he is trailing kisses across your cheeks, his breath heavy on your skin when he begs you in a quivering voice “please."

the feeling of his hands shivering against you it’s what gradually rouses you, opening your eyes only to be met with his wide-eyed gaze, pupils fully blown out in the dark, alert with fear.

you know how he gets, it isn’t the first time this happens yet it never fails to alarm you. you’d seen it in his eyes many times before and you’d seen it again earlier tonight, when you arrived, tenuous yet just waiting for the smallest trigger to so easily turn into something out of control.

it's as if he's suddenly put in a trance and nobody can pull him out of it. his hands start wandering everywhere and in a rather frenetic way, feeling around your skin as if he has gone blind. hands fumbling to hold whatever is within their reach, clenching whatever it is you're wearing in his fists, searching for something that you can’t quite understand.

you never know what to say, you can only hold him in hopes it will pass. you hold him and coddle him, whisper words of reassurance in his ear in hopes that you can be as much of a source of comfort to him as he is to you.

he apologizes afterwards, he always does. apologizes for needing you so much that sometimes it drives him close to insanity. then he always whispers a thank you from under his breath, thank you for letting me rely on you, but he barely ever does, only when he so desperately needs it — when it’s him lending others his strength, being relied on, who says thank you to him.

you sit up in bed, extending your hand towards him, waiting for him to take it. you pick him up when he does and you let a hand wrap around the back of his head, guiding him to rest on your shoulder.

“satoru, satoru, satoru.” you whisper against the shell of his ear while stroking his hair. he thinks he could fall sleep right here, like this.

please, lean on me, too.

i got you, you don’t have to be strong all the time.

 if you let me, i can be strong for the both of us. satoru thinks he knows what you’re trying to tell him.

“i’ll say it as many times as you need.”

once again, he is so overwhelmed by his profound infatuation that it is as if his love has grown a will of its own, as if it has grown fangs when his teeth sink, unwarranted, into the skin of your shoulder, love wishing to seep itself deep into your bloodstream. “want you whole.”

“so greedy.” you wince quietly, nonchalantly against his snowy hair and he runs the tip of his nose up the side of your neck.

he keeps on nibbling on the tender skin of your jaw, as if he’s hungry and trying to prove a point. that if he so wished to, if he was greedy enough, vile enough, he’d devour you full.

“i'm the greediest, baby” for what is love if not greed. is it not wanting to consume the other person and let yourself be consumed in return? for his entire life, satoru has known nothing but an insatiable hunger. always wanting more, always needing more. gluttonous for more, more, more. in the end, he always managed to get what he wants and he doesn’t hold back, you never asked him to either.

he knows he owns you wholly, that you placed your soul, mind and body fully on the palm of his hand and he doesn’t think he could ever settle for less. doesn’t think his hunger would ever be satiated with less than a handful of you.

he places a trail of kisses that goes down to your shoulder again and he pulls away from your skin with one last kiss to the spot where he left a mark. a mark that is so unlike any other in your body. one that comes from love.

“i'm sorry that i need you so much” he envelops you in the tightest of embraces, touching his heart with yours.

he wishes you understand that he’s apologizing for so many other things, too. he’s sorry that he can’t give himself to you the same way you’ve given yourself to him. you’ve always kept your heart so willingly open to him yet it seems that he only ever allows you a glimpse into the heart inside his chest on nights like this, when fear holds him in it’s strong, relentless grip or when he’s falling apart at the feeling of being inside in you, body panting above yours, too lost in his own pleasure. only then does he allow himself to be vulnerable with you, spilling all of his heart's content into your distracted ears — when he thinks you’re far too gone to listen, to truly acknowledge his feelings — but you treasure every single moment of fragility of his, for they are so scarce, listening attentively even when he thinks you don’t.

“say my name one last time” he breathes against your ear.

here, in these sheets, satoru pretends to forget his name and the burden that inescapably comes with it. he forgets the world needs him and lets himself need you instead, just this once. — just this once, he’ll pretend to be the weak one, the one who needs saving and finds a shelter in your arms.

“satoru…” your words are spoken barely above a whisper, like they’re meant just for him.

“again” he connects his lips with yours and holds the back of your neck with one hand, the other resting on your lower back for support as he dips both of you down onto the mattress.

and you say it. again. and then again. not because he asks you to but because satoru knows how to get what he wants. he pries his name out of your lips as he trails open mouthed kisses down the valley of your breasts, forces it out of you in the form a laughter as he nibbles on the inside of your thighs, tickling you with his breath and ultimately earns it in moan that you cry as a prayer when he sinks down on the mattress and makes a home in between your legs — until you're chanting his name over and over again, sobbing that you love him, you love him, you love him.

he smiles to himself, does it half smugly, half earnestly. satoru is now twenty eight and his shoulders a little lighter, the world fitting all too perfectly in this queen sized bed.

[lollytea]

Please, your finale Huntlow thoughts, my liege. We poor peasants beg of you, our bowls are empty and your tables full; if we might have but a crumb of your succulent meal to fill our bellies in these cold December nights.

ASGCDHBDJNK JESUS FUCKING CHRIST OKAY

I got a few asks about this but I guess I'll answer this one cuz it's phrased the funniest. I just wasn't too pressed about giving my Thoughts about finale Huntlow because I am fully a part of the Huntlow hivemind. Like I feel the way everyone else feels. I'm ecstatic, I'm delighted, I'm overwhelmed, I'm emotional, I'm so happy for them, I got everything I could have wanted. I won. We won.

(I HAVE TOO MANY PICS. I'LL RB WITH PART 2)

First of all this scene is so special to me, you have no idea.

It isn't inherently romantic but it's still so sweet and shows how much these two care for each other. Here's Willow, who's spent the last special Atlasing and repressing and refusing to rely on anyone else. But then she had her breakdown in front of Hunter and he realized just how stressed and scared she's been this whole time. She's visibly anxious and upset here, likely worrying up a storm because she hasn't found her Dads yet. And Hunter is right here beside her. He's seen her meltdown, he's felt her pain, he's heard her cry. He knows that Willow is in a fragile state at the moment. He knows she's been holding in a lot. He knows she's scared. I love that he's not only standing by her side and helping her search, but holding her too. It could be that she vocally expressed how worried she was to him, or maybe he just saw it on her face, but he probably placed that hand on her back to comfort her, let her knows he's right here, grounding her. And Willow, who's still learning how to depend on others, is letting him.

The way Hunter lights up when he sees Harvey and Gilbert, thrilled by how happy he knows she's going to be and his soft smile when he points them out to her. And then THIS!

Like Hunter is devastated. He feels alone and out of place here. He really thinks he has nobody. But Willow being happy can still bring a smile to his face. He just loves her so much!!!

And I know I already talked about the grom photo but UGHH!!!

I got a pic in better definition. I'm pretty sure this is Hunter's first grom. So likely a few months after the events of WAD. And it's so cute to think about Hunter and Willow very awkwardly but eagerly navigating a romantic relationship. I love how grabby and flirty Willow looks here, messing with his bowtie. She clearly LOVES the floral suit, thinking he's like the hottest man alive. She needs to smooch him and NOW. Or she's just like "Oh my, what a nice collarbone you have!!" Idk the ambiguity of what exactly Willow is doing here but the vibe and general intentions being very obvious is my favourite part of this pic. You can speculate for years on this. Oh and Hunter's face, I love it so much. His dumb little blush is like an old friend. He's fucking THRILLED that he's getting so much attention from her. He's very excited about where this is going. But he's also like. So nervous he's gonna pass out. But overall he's having the time of his life. Bi rights!

Also epilogue Huntlow....guys....guys epilogue Huntlow....are you guys still listening to me at this point?

God I love this scene. Its so natural and smooth, giving the characters a chance to breathe and exist and providing a glimpse of how they go about their daily lives. It's soft and lighthearted but it establishes so much about where Willow and Hunter are currently at in their relationship. They've been dating for like....3 years at the very least. And they're clearly very happy together!!

The way Willow casually slides on to the scene, giving the impression that she's often dropped in on him while he's working. And why wouldn't she? That's her sweetheart. What if she requires emergency smooches? What then? And of course, there's Hunter beaming at the sight of her. Seems he never gets tired of his girlfriend stopping by to visit. Or maybe he's sick to death of Willow the menace showing up to distract him while he's trying to work and he's just excited about the prospect of Luz's party. Either way, it's an adorable expression.

Something else I love about epilogue Huntlow is how equally distributed the affection is between both of them. Back when FTF dropped I gushed about how sweet it was to see Hunter taking initiative with Willow and the significance of something as simple pressing his backhand against hers during the pinky hold. And God, this sequence here says it all. From what I can tell, as Hunter runs towards her, they both reached out at the same time and linked hands immediately, implying that holding hands has become the automatic gesture for them whenever they meet up. They're in love, you're honor.

I love the huge carefree grins as they skate down the hill (still holding hands). They might have grown a lot since we last saw them but they're still young adults, they still love to have fun doing dumb reckless stuff. And even better, they love to have fun doing dumb reckless stuff together. All the handholding and fluffy cuteness is wonderful but I also love knowing that they seem to genuinely enjoy just hanging out and spending their youth with each other. Zeno was right, they ARE besties. Who knows how much shit Hunter and Willow get up to together? Being a pair of thrill seeking athletes, it's probably a lot.

This part is just so silly and ridiculous. After they go stumbling, Willow's first instinct is to grab Hunter and hold on for dear life. Her intense scrunched up expression is just so funny. "I will protect you, my love. No big dumb hill is going to harm a hair on your pretty head. Your girl is here." And Hunter barely acknowledging it (it probably happens a lot) because his life is currently flashing before his eyes. GOD they're just such nerds.

Oh and this frame is just SO adorable. The way Willow's hold on him lingers for a moment before he walks towards the grave, Hunter's heart eyes. They're clearly still so soft and touchy with each other. And this is after three years. I know they were insufferable when they started dating as teens.

[webslinger-holland]

Hi I absolutely loved heal his heart and saw someone say your request are open so I was wondering if u could write kaz brekker x sick reader just how he would take care of her. I’m sick right now and it’s kicking my arse lmao

Hope nice day :)

Deathly Fever | Kaz Brekker

Warning: mentions of severe illness, mentions of traumatic childhood, mentions of needles and bloodletting

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Over the past few weeks, Kerch had become a victim to a new disease brought from the harbor. It spread rapidly, mainly through air circulation and proximity. Many people speculated that the disease originated from Shu Han as a few cases had been reported from there. Other than the few cases, there was really no proof of where it came from.

People began calling it the 'fragile fever.' This was because the first symptom to show was a high fever and people grew quite frail due to their weakened state. The Shu were working frantically to find some kind of antibiotic that would dissolve the bacterial infection, but they had no success thus far.

The number of casualties was rising rapidly, reporting nearly fifty deaths each day. It acted fast and could take a life in less than twenty-four hours. Ketterdam had fallen into a very dark time.

Being part of the Crows, Y/n was always busy with something. She often ran errands for the group, choosing to buy the needed supplies for most of their heists.

It was now mid-afternoon. She was heading back to the club for the day with a much needed roll of parchment and a new container of ink for her boss. She felt incredibly hot and had even broken out in a sweat despite it being particularly cold that day. She brushed it off as her wearing one too many layers.

Back at the Crow Club, the small group of six were gathered to sit around one of the empty tables. The club wasn't supposed to open for another two hours. In the meantime, the group worked on planning for their next heist. They talked amongst themselves.

"Another ten announced dead from the Financial District," Jesper announced with his nose buried in a newspaper. He dropped the paper onto the table.

"It's moving west," Inej realized. She briefly glanced down at the paper.

"Could reach the Barrel any day now," Matthias claimed. He had been leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

"No news from the Shu?" Wylan asked Jesper. His voice hopeful.

"Nothing that the papers are reporting," Jesper stated. He directed his gaze to look at his boss who sat across from him at the table. He could see that he was deep in thought. "Thoughts on closing the club?" Jesper wondered.

The others turned their heads and looked at their leader expectedly. But Kaz kept his gaze on the silver crow head attached to his cane. He pursed his lips together in thought before shaking his head at the notion.

"No," Kaz said firmly. "We need the business and we need the money."

In that exact moment, the long wooden doors swung open to announce the arrival of someone. The six crows immedielty shifted their gaze towards the source of the noise. Their eyes landed on the familiar figure of the seventh member of the crew. Though, she didn't look quite like herself.

She was covered in a thick layer of sweat, which was clearly evident on her face. She panted heavily to herself; her chest heaving with each breath she took. It looked like she had been running, but she truly hadn't been. The color was robbed from her face.

"I'm...back," Y/n said slowly and breathlessly. She sent them a weak smile, shuffling towards a nearby table to lower her supplies down.

The others quickly looked between each other as if expecting to find some kind of explanation. In the back, Kaz slowly rose to his feet with the help of his cane. His eyes remained on her frail figure.

"Y/n," Kaz called warningly.

It was almost like she didn't hear him because she just kept organizing the things she had brought back to them. Unbeknownst to all of them, Nina moved her hands in a particular motion underneath the table. She sensed her rapid heartbeat, which ultimately meant she probably had a fever.

"Kaz," Nina whispered under her breath. She discreetly turned her head to glance at him through the corner of her eye. "Her heartbeat," Nina began.

He didn't need to be told anything else. He knew what this meant. He inhaled a sharp breathe. He was rudely reminded of his haunting past with disease and how it claimed the life of his brother. He shuddered at the mere thought.

For a brief moment, Y/n felt the entire room go silent. She saw these black splotches begin to cloud her vision. Her head felt light almost. Before she knew it, Y/n had completely lost her footing and had fallen unconscious to the floor.

Without hesitation, the six crows had jumped to their feet in order to rush to her side. It had been Nina who had gotten to her first. She grabbed her shoulder to shift her body to lay on her side. Her fingers hovered over her chest to feel for a heartbeat.

Kaz stood towering over Nina's knelt figure, watching her with hawk eyes. Inej had closed her eyes to say a silent prayer in the background. Jesper had taken Wylan into his arms to bring him some form of comfort. Matthias stood there with as much anticipation as the others.

"She's alright. Just unconscious," Nina announced which made the whole group release a sigh of relief.

"Matthias, take her up to my office." Kaz ordered immediately.

In response, Matthias had dropped down to the floor right beside Nina. He slipped his large arm underneath the unconscious girl's neck, linking his other one under the hook of her legs. He checked to make sure she was secure in his arms.

"Inej, go fetch the doctor." Kaz turned to her. She immediately left their company without another word. "Wylan and Jesper, head down to the market to get medical supplies." Kaz finished.

The two boys nodded their heads understandingly. They rushed towards the entrance with the intent of running to the market as quickly as they could so they could return as soon as possible.

"I'll stay with Nina," Kaz said mostly to himself.

Now Matthias had risen to his feet with the much smaller girl in his arms. He tried to handle her with the utmost care, knowing that if he didn't, Kaz might just have his head. He carefully made his way up the spiral staircase with Nina and Kaz trailing behind him.

Nina went to open the door to Kaz's office. She stepped out of the way so that Matthias could slip through the opening of the office. He stood still for a moment, indecisive of what to do next and where he needed to put her.

"Right over there," Kaz gestured to the sole crimson couch in the corner. So Matthias moved towards the crimson couch. He leaned down to lower the body onto the surface of the couch.

Once Y/n was comfortably laid down, Matthias took a step back so that Nina could sit beside her and Kaz could monitor it all. Nina kept her hand hovering over her chest, concentrating on feeling the pace of her heart rate. She brought her other hand to the side of her dear friend's face, shifting some loose strands of hair out of her face.

Her hair had begun to stick to her skin. Her shirt had a noticeably sweat stain around her neckline. Her breathing was wavering slightly. She looked so sickly up close.

All of the sudden, Kaz didn't see one of his crew members laying on his couch, but instead, the image was replaced of his dead brother who was still covered in those deathly firepox spots and whose eyes had been glazed over. The haunting feeling of his skin being so cold and damp. It gave him chills just thinking about it.

The memories only forced him to turn his head away from the scene. He squeezed his eyes tightly as if trying to push out the images flashing through his mind. He felt a strong sense of bile rising in the back of his throat, threatening to release if he didn't get a grip on himself.

Unable to handle his thoughts any longer, Kaz had left the room in a hurry despite hearing Nina and Matthias calling after him. He slammed the door shut behind him, holding the handle tightly between his leather gloves.

He pressed his backside against the surface of the door and allowed his head to fall back. He closed his eyes once again. His breathing began to increase in speed as he failed to get the sickly image of one of his crows out of his head. His hands shifted to grasp onto the head of the crow cane, keeping him steady.

After a couple minutes of waiting outside, Kaz began to pace back and forth in front of the door. He ignored the slight ache in his right leg. All of the sudden, Jesper and Wylan came clambering up the staircase. They each held a small wooden crate full of vials, rags, and healing herbs.

Upon seeing Kaz, Jesper had halted in his place. He narrowed his eyes at him as if trying to figure out what was going on, but he couldn't figure it out. He cleared his throat to get his boss's attention.

"Got the supplies, boss." Jesper stated.

"Bring them to Nina. She'll know what to do," Kaz did not stop pacing.

With a single nod, Wylan went to enter the office with his supplies. Jesper went to follow him, but he stopped one final time. He stood directly in front of his boss.

"Coming?" Jesper wondered.

Kaz shook his head in denial. He refused to look at him. He took a single step forward to continue his pacing, pressing the tip of his cane against the solid wood floorboards.

In slight defeat, Jesper decided to drop the subject. He turned to walk into the office, joining the others in their attempt to bring their dear friend out of an unconscious state.

Time began to pass.

Before anyone knew it, the large celestial clock of a full moon was hanging high over Ketterdam. The skyline had outstretched its black view of night over the entire city. The stars were sprinkled against the dark sky, almost like salt spread across a table. The lights of the city glowed yellow in the night.

By now, though it had only been a few hours, Y/n's state had taken a turn for the worst. She still failed to wake up. Heavy bags lingered under her eyes and her eyelids had grown darker in color. Her face was still drained of all color and her sweat continued to be an existing condition.

The doctor had been called earlier. He had arrived no more than an hour prior. He checked for the usual symptoms for which he had been seeing every day now. He worked in complete silence. The five crows stood around him and could not take their eyes away.

In the background, Kaz made sure to make no noise as he reentered the office. He stood in the dark corner as he did not really want to be seen by anybody. He held his breathe in anticipation, awaiting to hear the doctor's diagnosis.

Ever so slowly, the doctor lowered her hand back down onto the couch since he had just finished taking her pulse. He reached up to remove the circular glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He turned his body around in the chair to address the others.

"Well?" Jesper asked rather impatiently.

"Is she going to be alright?" Inej asked worriedly.

"It's hard to tell," the doctor shook his head.

"Well, what is it? Is it the fever?" Nina persisted. Her fingers pinched a little gold necklace around her neck to ease her nerves.

"I'm afraid so," the doctor replied. "She has all the symptoms."

"What can you do for her?" Wylan pushed.

"Not much I can do," the doctor sighed. He went to open his medical bag, taking out a rather large empty syringe.

"W-what's that?" Wylan practically trembled at the sight.

"It's an option. I can try to bleed her, see if any of the bacteria can be extracted..." his voice trailed off despite his urge to further explain himself.

"But?" Jesper wondered.

"If I bleed her, it might finish her."

Upon hearing this, Nina closed her eyes as if trying to prevent the tears from falling. Matthias went to wrap his arm around her shoulder. Inej began another little prayer to herself. Jesper wiped his mouth with the palm of his hand.

"There is no promise I can save her," the doctor confessed truthfully. "The fever acts fast. Her body grows weaker with each second. I need to know now if you want to to proceed with this."

Hesitantly, the five other crows had turned their heads and looked over to their boss standing in the corner. His eyes remained on the wooden floorboards since he was contemplating his options. He closed his eyes to ignore the stares coming his way.

Even then, Kaz still could not look at her. He couldn't even face his crows, coming to the realization that they were dependent on him to make the final decision on this. He thought for a moment.

"Do what you need to do," Kaz said finally.

Over the next hour, the doctor worked ever so carefully. He had successfully inserted a long tube into her arm to transfer some blood out of her system. The excess blood fed into a single porcelain bowl.

In the given moment, Jesper and Wylan were sitting in one of the corners of the room. They talked quietly to themselves. Meanwhile, Inej had been kneeling at the foot of the bed with her hands folded and her head bowed in prayer. She hadn't gotten up since. Then Matthias was pacing the room as he grew more anxious and nervous with each passing second.

All the while, Kaz remained in his own dark corner. He stood leaning against the wall with the help of his cane for support. Anytime Kaz's eyes fell on the familiar figure on the couch, the haunting memories of his brother came flooding back into his mind. He opted to keep his eyes shut to keep the memories out.

Now Nina came back into the room with a bowl full of cold water. She held a dry rag in the other hand, carrying both of them to the small side table beside the couch. She went to dip the rag into the bowl of water, wringing it out afterwards.

She proceeded to place the wet rag on the sickly girl's forehead in hopes of relieving the heat she felt in her head and to bring down her fever. In response, Y/n turned her head from side to side father slowly. She moaned at the feeling.

After a moment, the doctor removed the single tube from her forearm. He cleaned it off with a spare handkerchief. Then he stood to his feet and took hold of his medical bag. He went to leave the room, but was ultimately stopped by the leader of the group. He halted suddenly.

"Where do you think you're going?" Kaz quirked an eyebrow at the doctor.

"I have other patients to see. Others like her who are dying right now," the doctor insisted while gesturing to the patient behind him. Kaz closed his eyes upon hearing the word 'dying.'

"Name your price," Kaz grumbled under his breath.

"I-I can't stay here," the doctor shook his head in denial. "I have to help others."

In any other situation, Kaz would have stopped the man before he could leave the room. He'd force him to stay there until she got better. He'd pay him all the money in the world if it meant that he could do something to help her. But alas, this time, Kaz let the man go.

Before leaving, the doctor came to a slow halt in his steps. He dropped his head down in slight defeat. He realized that he couldn't do much to help her and he wished he could have done more.

"She's contagious," the doctor announced. He stole a quick glance at the young faces around the room. "If you value your life, you should leave town as soon as you can."

The six crows were able to remain unfazed by the doctor's comment. They glanced between one another, mentally wondering if they were all thinking the same thing.

"No mourners," Kaz began.

"No funerals," the others agreed.

Without another word, the doctor dismissed himself from the company of the crows. The rest of them were left there, slightly uncertain of what to do next. There was a beat of silence.

"We'll take shifts," Nina announced, stepping forward. "Switch every three hours," Nina suggested.

"I'll take the first shift," Wylan offered with a slight raise of the hand.

"I will too," Inej said while standing to her feet.

Over the span of a week's time, the crows had taken turns alternating shifts. It operated in a smooth manner: Wylan and Inej, Matthias and Nina, Jesper and Kaz. Though oftentimes, Jesper was left alone during the shift because Kaz just couldn't stand the sight.

The doctor was only able to come briefly every other day, checking for any signs of improvement. Though they were all running low on energy and sleep, they couldn't begin to imagine how the doctor was since he looked like he hadn't gotten sleep in a whole week.

The city was restless. More people were dying every day. There were a limited number of doctors. They often were forced to pick their work from the person who could pay the most. This left the poor people dying on the streets with no medicine and no doctor at their disposal. Death leaned heavy over the city, claiming the lives of countless innocents.

During the early shift, Inej and Wylan would do anything in their power to make sure their dear friend was comfortable. They tried propping up pillows or covering her with blankets. Inej always prayed over her and Wylan liked to swipe the sweat off her brow with a wet cloth.

In the afternoon, Nina and Matthias were tasked with trying to feed her broth. They would shift her into a sitting position. Nina sat next to her and let Y/n lean her body against her side. This meant that her head was often tucked into the nook of the heartrender's neck. Then Nina raised a small wooden bowl of broth to her lips and helped her drink the warm liquid.

Matthias had to sit in front of the two women. He always made sure that she didn't fall over and that she remained conscious if possible. He wanted to help in any way possible.

In the evening, Jesper and Kaz took on their shift. Out of all the crows, Jesper was the one who tried to defuse the awkward tension. He refused to believe that one of his closest friends was on the brink of death. So Jesper talked.

Especially when Kaz stepped out of the room, Jesper talked to her about anything and everything under the sun. It was almost as if they were just having a regular conversation, but she never responded back. He truly believed that she could hear him though and this encouraged him to keep talking.

Though Y/n had regained consciousness, she was far too weak to even open her eyes or move her mouth to speak. She ate rather slowly and drank little water. Her throat burned with each swallow and her breathes had become strained from effort.

On one particular night, Kaz needed to step out of the room for his own reasons. As soon as the door closed, Jesper directed his attention to the figure who lay on the couch. He leaned forward in slight anticipation.

"This is killing him, you know? Kaz," Jesper said in a low tone of voice.

Upon receiving no verbal feedback, Jesper crossed his arms over the stretch of his chest. He breathed a long sigh of defeat. It felt like their efforts did nothing to help her. They saw no improvement. And it was so disheartening.

"I am already the looks of the operation," Jesper said cockily as always. His cheeky smile faded. His heart became overwhelmed with pure sadness. He felt the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. "I really don't want to be the heart now too," Jesper nearly chocked.

Without thinking, Jesper scooted forward in the wooden chair. He took hold of her limp hand with both of his own. He raised her hand to his lips, pressing a small kiss to the back of it. Then he leaned forward to rest his head against her hand. He cried softly to himself.

"I don't want you to feel bad if you have to go," Jesper cried. He lifted his head which meant the tears rolled down his cheeks. "We'll be alright," Jesper nodded.

Unbeknownst to him, Kaz had quietly opened the door in the background. His hand lingered on the door handle. He kept the door open just slightly to hear the conversation.

"I know what he means to you. And I know what you mean to him, even if he won't let you see it," Jesper added with a slight smile. "I'll look after him. I promise you that," Jesper whispered finally.

Suddenly, Jesper rose to his feet. He went to wipe the tears out of his eyes, sniffling once or twice in the process. He cleared his throat before saying what he thought would be a final goodbye. He pressed a single kiss to the top of her head.

"Goodbye, old friend."

When Jesper had turned around in his place, he was slightly surprised to see his boss standing in the middle of the room. He looked away as if he was embarrassed by his own tears. Instead of addressing it, Jesper simply pushed past him to leave the room and closed the door behind him. And it was just the two of them.

For the first time, Kaz went to sit in front of her. He was careful to lower himself into the wooden chair, forcing most of his weight to lean on his cane. He rested for a beat.

Lowering his gaze to stare down at his black leather gloves, Kaz tried not to think about the painful memories. He just couldn't shake the image of seeing his brother's dead corpse, lifeless and unmoving just like she had nearly been all week.

Now Kaz forced himself to take a deep breath before lifting his line of sight to settle on her sleeping figure. Instead of seeing his dead brother, Kaz was overwhelmed at the mere sight of one of his dearest friends. He wasn't an emotional person normally; he always hid his emotions rather well.

But finally being able to look at her made a part of him break inside. His heart physically ached in pain. He clenched his jaw in order to keep the tears at bay. He felt the anger rising within him.

Why did this have to happen again to him? Why was the world so against him? If saints truly exist, why didn't they save his brother or her by now?

He grew angry at the world just like he had been when Jordie died. He wanted his revenge, but this time, there was nobody to get revenge on. He couldn't help her and couldn't save her.

"I..." Kaz's voice trailed off because he couldn't think of the words.

His eyes trailed down from her face to her hand that was tucked at her side. He slowly moved his hand forward so he could take her hand into his gloved ones. He held her hand.

In a way, Kaz wanted the gesture to bring her some sense of comfort. It acted as a way for her to know that he was there beside her. But in a way, it became more of a comfort for him as he realized she was still with him. She hadn't left yet.

"I'm sorry," Kaz said for the first time.

The Bastard of the Barrel had never been known to apologize to anyone. However, in this particular moment, Kaz felt utterly hopeless. He wished to save her, but he knew he couldn't and he was sorry for it.

"We always say 'no mourners, no funerals.' But I think if you left us...I would mourn for you," Kaz confessed truthfully. "I'd mourn every day for the rest of my life, thinking back on all the times I could have said something about my..."

For his sake, Kaz chose not to finish that sentence. He feared a confession would bring him too much pain at a time like this. He'd save it for now.

"Doesn't matter now," Kaz shook his head. "You'll leave me now here soon. Just like Jordie."

In utter defeat, Kaz rose to his feet and let go of her hand in the process. He went to leave the room without another word. He closed the door behind him as if trying to close another chapter of his life. He couldn't handle it anymore. He broke.

In the very early hours of the morning, Kaz was awoken by a single sun beam hitting the side of his face. He opened his eyes to realize that he had fallen asleep in a chair downstairs. His line of sight was directed to the perch above the club and to the door of his office. It was slightly ajar.

Now Kaz didn't think much of it. That was until he heard a soft sobbing sound coming from upstairs. His heart plummeted into the deepest and darkest confines of his chest. Was she...

The hardest thing he had to do was stand to his feet as he almost felt like he didn't have the energy anymore. He forced himself to climb the spiral staircase, stopping at the very top. He saw Inej sitting on the floor beside the door. Her hands covered her face as she let out small sobs.

Just then, the door of the office opened slightly more. His right hand man stepped out of the room with large tears in his eyes. He took a single step forward to stand in front of his boss. Then Jesper broke out in a smile.

This look was all that Kaz needed. He pushed right past him to enter the room in a hurry. He halted in his steps.

Upon hearing someone enter the room rather loudly, Wylan had turned his head towards the door and revealed Y/n who was sitting up on the couch. She sat next to Nina who was making sure she didn't fall over and who was helping her drink some water.

For some unknown reason, Y/n looked like herself again. All the color had returned to her face. She wasn't covered in a thick layer of sweat since her fever dropped. The dark bags under her eyes had also disappeared from sight. Her eyes were so wide open. Had they always been that color? She looks different; she looks beautiful.

It all made sense now. Inej had been crying tears of joy because her prayers had finally been answered. Jesper had to leave the room because he was so overwhelmed with emotions. She made it through. She was a survivor.

Rather slowly, Kaz limped across the stretch of the room. He refused to take his eyes off her in fear that this all might be some kind of horrid dream. The other crows looked between the two of them, knowing that there was some type of unspoken thing. He stopped right in front of her.

"You're okay," Kaz breathed in a soft whisper. "You didn't..."

"Leave you? Never," Y/n smiled in retort.

"I-I thought I'd lost you," Kaz spoke as if the others weren't in the room. She only smiled up at him.

"You can't get rid of me that easy."

[natsaffection]

hey love 👋👋

could you right some nsfw were r is like a ray of sunshine, always nice, kind, joyfull and a little shy, so nat is aurorised how >>loud<< they are and what they like in bed, please 🥺🥺 also, mommy nat being very teasing.

i'd really appreciate it, thank you sm sweetie 😻💖💖

Hidden | N.R

MINORS DNI!! (18+)!

Summary: Natasha gets to know the real you.

warnings: Mommy Kink, fingering (r receiving), Strap on use (r receiving) Rough (?) sex,

Word count: 1305 k

A/N: Thank you so much for this one <3.

How grateful Natasha was. Not the fact that she got a second chance or found a new family. No, she was grateful for you.

If someone had told her that some fire in a coffee would lead to her meeting a sweet little someone like you, she would have given that person the darkest look ever.

You talked one night about how Natasha approached you, and you were so happy because you never dared to approach her yourself.

Not only did you bring a smile to Natasha's face every time, but also to her comrades. After seven months of dating, you decided to make your relationship public, and it was time to involve your friends. Since then, the Tower has been surrounded only by laughter and joy.

Someone drops their drink? No big deal, you laugh at how Steve's face was when he could feel his cup sliding out of his hand.

The power goes out again because Tony overdid it again? Don't worry, you'll be the first one in every room with candles ready to light.

Someone is sick? You're at their sides. Someone is sad? You've got tissues and Disney movies in hand.

Natasha was really lucky...Especially behind closed doors.

Damn, you have some vocal cords. And how Natasha loved it, "Gosh Detka..Now I have to ask Tony about the soundproof walls.." she said as she shoved her knuckles deep in you pussy. "I-I'm sorry..."

God, how Horny Natasha is for you..How fragile you are, how sweetly you try to escape her pleasures.

So she never would have expected the way you try to hide that you are discreetly excited by the scenes in front of you. It was Natasha's idea to watch a certain documentary for the night.

In fact, it was, but Natasha wanted to find out how far she could take you, and so now a documentary on the background of the female orgasm is playing before you.

"What's going on, Detka?" She knows what state you are in right now and wants to take it further. Only you don't like it at all. How embarrassing. Why are you..aroused?

"N-Nothing! I'm just sitting very uncomfortable..." Oh god, you have to get out of here- "Are you sure about that Y/n? It looks to me like you're enjoying yourself here..." Was she right? Do you get off on it? No, it can't-

"N-Nat?"

"Yeah, baby?" Natasha eyes widen..That look you have, she already knows from others Natasha has been with. That's why it surprises her that you, of all people, have it right now, "Um..you always said that I could..come to you, and so I wanted to ask if..you- if we-"

"You want me to be rough with you? Is that it, Malysh?" You couldn't bring yourself to say anything, so you nod frantically. You need her. Now.

And Natasha knew that too. She's on you like a gazelle, that haven't had anything to eat in a long time. With one hand she pushes you further into the bed and with the other she moves to your pants, "You don't know how much this is turning me on right now..." Fuck. You thought to yourself. Why didn't you open your mouth sooner?

As quickly as Natasha was on top of you, your clothes were on the floor and her fingers were already inside you. You groaned out and at that exact moment a groan also came from the TV you forgot to turn off, and it was followed directly by a "Mommy.."

"F-Fuck, Y/n!" You had also forgotten that Natasha's fingers were inside you and this..word tightened all your nerves in your pussy. "Mommy, huh? Do you want to call me mommy?"

"S-Stop..." You put your hands over your mouth to keep it from being more embarrassing for you, but Natasha was quick to respond and stopped you, "No, no, let me hear you. Come on, I won't hold it against you..."

Come on.. Natasha thought..She wants- no needs, to hear it. She made it her task and thus no longer held back. She rams into you full force and curled her fingers perfectly, "A-Aah, M-Moommy!!!" You both had the same reaction. Natasha had to moan out now too, "There it is..Fuck, who thought you were so dirty for me, hm?"

"Please, stop talking like that..." embarrassing, embarrassing, emb-- "N-No!!!" You were so close, so close! But Natasha pulled her fingers out and took them in her mouth. You watched her enjoy the taste of you, and when she looked back, you knew immediately that you were in for a long night.

But the spark faded when Natasha got up and went into the next room. You were puzzled and scared...Was it too much, after all? Crap, you shouldn't have-.

"I ordered this two months ago and was hoping we could use it at some point. What do you say?" She was leaning against the door with a bright pink- 9inch strap-on in her hand. You had to swallow and nodded again. "Would you turn around?" she asked and you do as she said. You now look at the wall in front of you, confused, trying to catch everything that is going on behind you.

Suddenly, you notice the bed buckling behind you and feel your lover's hands on your hips. "Tell me what you want, baby..." Natasha wants to hear you.

"Just..Fu— I-Im not gonna say this..." Natasha was already expecting an answer like that, "Okay."

You sigh out, glad that she's satisfied with that.

You take a deep breath as you suddenly feel the tip of her dildo against your folds and brace yourself, but the thrust never came. Instead, she just nudges it back and forth.

"Nat.." Natasha had to smirk. She had you where she wanted you, "What? Tell me what you want.."

"P-Put it in..." God, how sweet you sound..That's why she had to thrust in, but no more, "God, Natasha, please!!”

"You know what to do, Y/n.." she sang. Her most important person lying squirming under her and thirsty for pleasure.

And how you needed it, "Please fuck me already! Please, just- O-Ohh, yess!" Natasha was now desperate too, thrusting back and back into you with tremendous force. In, out, in, out it goes all the time and you and Natasha forgot everything. You had absolutely no backbone, "Pl-Please slow..d-down, I-" She rocks into you so hard that if she wasn't holding you by the hips, you would be constantly sliding forward,

"No..you take it, fuck..baby!"

You were starting to run out of strength in your arms, and before you fell into the pillow you suddenly noticed Natasha suddenly pull out, turn you around and fill you right back up. Her pace picked up directly, "You look so good when you're taken through..."

"PLEASE! I'm so close..so close..." You were in heaven and Natasha was close too as her thrusts become more erratic, "Look at me Y/n..I want to see you.."

You almost couldn't hear her, so fucked are you. Look at Natasha, look at Natasha, look-

"Natasha! I'm c-cumming!" She was already grunting too, "That's not my name, sweetheart.." You feel her thrusts slow down, "M-Mommy! No, don't stop, please!!"

"Then try again." She had to grit her teeth as she was about to finish as well, "Mommyyy, please let me come, please, please, please!!"

She picked up the pace again and shortly after, you both lapsed into endless release. Natasha fucked you through your orgasm, and you were sure you saw Jesus. As you both came down, Natasha laid on your chest, "That was fantastic..Who would have thought you would be so-"

"Please don't say it.." You put your hands back on your face and Natasha had to laugh,

"Oh Detka, I'm so grateful to have you.."

-

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[doumadono]

if your taking requests:

reader x b. katsuki:

Reader is very injured after a fight with a villan gets admitted into the hospital.

A/N: normally, my requests are closed, but I've cracked open the emergency vault just for this one. Why? Well, I've got a soft spot for Bakugo, and this topic piqued my interest. So here's a quick and fluffy blurb

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

In one of the hospital rooms, the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound, punctuating the heavy silence. You lay in bed, battered and bruised from the fierce battle with the villain. Tubes and machines surrounded you, a stark reminder of your fragile state.

Just then, the door to the room burst open, and Bakugo Katsuki stormed in, his usual fiery demeanor softened by concern. He couldn't hide the worry in his crimson eyes as he approached your bedside.

"Oi, you idiot," he grumbled, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. "You better not be planning to make this a regular thing, getting yourself beat up like that, dumbass."

You managed a weak smile despite the pain, your voice barely above a whisper. "Sorry, Katsuki. The villain was tough…"

Katsuki huffed, crossing his arms. "Tough or not, you should've called for backup. Don't try to be a hero all by yourself, dumbass."

He pulled up a chair and sat down beside the bed, his expression softening a fraction. "You had us all worried, you know. Even Deku was going on and on about how we need to find you before you do anything reckless again. You've broken the already fucking broken nerd, you little shit."

There was a brief pause, and then he awkwardly reached out, gently taking your hand. His palm was warm. Bakugo's gaze would occasionally flicker down to your bandaged body, your injuries far more severe than anyone had initially realized. He couldn't help but feel a gnawing fear in the pit of his stomach, one he refused to vocalize. His grip on your hand tightened involuntarily as he watched you wince in pain. He knew you were trying to be strong, but he could see the exhaustion and pain in Y/E/C eyes, even if you tried to hide it. "You better not be downplaying how bad this is," he finally grumbled, his voice lower than usual.

You met met his gaze. "I'm tough, Katsuki. I'll heal."

He didn't respond, but his hand never left yours. He knew that sometimes, silence conveyed more than words ever could.

You chuckled weakly, wincing at the pain. "I appreciate you coming, Katsuki."

He glanced away for a moment, seemingly flustered, before muttering, "Yeah, yeah well, I didn't have much of a choice. Just… don't do this again, okay, dumbass? I don't want to see you like this ever fucking again."

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'll try not to, Katsuki."

He nodded, a mix of relief and frustration evident on his face. "Good. Because if you end up in here again, I'm gonna explode something."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "You're a real softie if you only want to, Katsuki."

He scowled, but there was a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. "Shut up, I'm not, you idiot."

Katsuki's presence, despite his gruff exterior, brought a comforting sense of normalcy to the sterile hospital room.

It was in those moments, when he thought no one was watching, that Bakugo Katsuki showed a side of himself that few got to see— a side that was caring, protective, and undeniably sweet.

[derangedanomaly]

could you do bad sanses and star sanses who’s s/o is a skeleton monster as well:3

btw hope your having a good day:D

Hii! I am having a swell day! :D hope you're also having a good day! As for the request, I decided to do a little spin on it.

The reader is dead, and you're magically brought to life. (A little like in Corpse Bride).

Decided to cut this up into two parts! The next part will be: Error, Dream, Ink, Swap

Part 2

Their s/o is a skeleton (PART 1)

(Nightmare, Killer, Dust, Horror)

Nightmare:

He doesn't really care in the beginning, cause..like, he met more than thousand of skeletons before. Why would you be any special??

Would act like you're never even there. 😭

After one day of having enough, he tries to get some negative feelings out of you. But...you know...this proves to be difficult, cause you're always very cheerful!

It bothers him immensely, won't stop trying to get you in a bad mood.

But he just can't succeed. (Bummer)

This changes when he finds out that you're a skeleton... because you're dead.

His reaction is to be expected. He immediately reacts by smirking widely. (More like, creepily 😭)

Now he has a way to get negative feelings out of you. (Good luck with that by the way)

Your relationship is very...angsty. At the start. He's just using you to get some negativity, and you hate him for that. How lovely! :)

You actually can't take it anymore, so you snap at him for the first time that y'all know each other. This particular moment, is actually what makes him simp respect you.

Look, he just has a type for people that deny him or stand up to him. (Since no one really did it before, out of fear)

He became a little vulnerable when it came to you from that point onward.

He actually tries to help you out to understand some of the skeleton magic. (He's really just showing off though. Wants you to be impressed by him 💀)

You two act like an 'old married couple.' As Killer states.

Since you weren't born as a skeleton, but became one after you died, you were much more fragile...you would find yourself being wrapped around Nightmare's tentacles, so he can heal your injuries. (Mostly broken bones.)

Unfortunately, Nightmare very much forgets this fact very often...so he'll be frustrated with your fragile self almost every time.

Nightmare went up to you in anger, his tentacles furiously moving on his back. "I told you to cut off Ink! Not laze around." You furrow your gaze at him, starting to feel irritated. He knew you were physically unable to do so in your current health condition, yet he still shouts at you?! "Oh no no no Nightmare. You're blaming me?!" He rolled his eyes, staring you down. "Yes, of course. Who else would fuck this mission up as badly as you?!" You let out a low huff, cooking up a plan. Oh this is gonna be golden. "Nightmare...h-how could you say that...?" Nightmare's gaze suddenly changed as you let out crying sounds. He didn't know what to say now...it was.............awkward.. for him, I mean. "Uhm...damn, I really didn't expected that reaction from someone like you..umm....are..you.? Ok..?" You almost let out a small laugh at his quiet question. How very uncharacteristic of him. You shake your head, slowly looking up at him. "No...no. I'M NOT FUCKING OK!" He flinched when you suddenly shouted, pointing at him. "FUCK YOU, AND YOUR EMO ASS!" You stomped your way away from him, leaving him stunned, to go treat your injuries.

He should feel angry at you for shouting at him like that. He should already be making a punishment for you, but...he did neither of those things. The only thing he did, is stood there. A turquoise blush started to slowly appear on his face as he watched you tend to your injuries, with Dust on your side helping you out. He couldn't help the next thought that came to him as he watched you, little hearts appearing in his eye sockets instead of his white pupils. So this is love?

Killer:

Oh. You're also a skeleton? Cool.

He doesn't really know how to feel about that at first. He also thinks that you're just another Sans. 🤷‍♀️

After he finds out that you're not, his interest is 10 times more peaked then ever.

If you're not sensitive about the topic, he will ask thousands of questions about how being dead works.

Since he's a gamer at heart, he will make some silly jokes about you being like the skeletons in Minecraft. 💀 (Partially forgetting he's also a skeleton.)

He can't stand you doing anything that requires strength. Not because he's frustrated with you, but because the little playboy is very worried for you. 🥺

Literally WON'T let you even open a very tight jar.

He's like your little servant. (If you want, he'll even let you call him that. He's just freaky like that you know.)

He's partially helping you with everything just so he can show off his strength to you. He wants to make you swoon over him.

Whenever you're sad, he'll make it his mission to make you laugh. (Which works. He's good at making people laugh. Most of the time..)

You both just tease the other. Seeing who'll back out first. (None of you do. Lol.)

He's always demanding for you two to be paired together on missions. He reasoning is always like, 'I want you close to me' or 'I don't want to be paired up with anyone else besides you.' but that's only half of the truth.

He's doing this because he wants to keep a close eye on you. Wants to make sure you're safe.

Look, he once saw what injuries you had when you broke your bones for the first time, he doesn't wanna experience that again.

"Alright... Changing to blue!" Killer groaned as he took another card from the deck. You were seated on the couch, playing Uno. And you were winning! There's no way Killer can win, you have only one card in your hand, and he has-! Wait...oh SHOOT! You didn't say Uno! "Hah! You didn't say the word..~ take one." Killer pointed to the deck of cards as you sighed. "Whatever. I've got this anyway!" You beamed. Killer only looked at you with curious gaze.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"I never lose, cupcake." You hummed at the nickname, not refusing the pinkish blush appearing on your cheeks. "Me neither!" Killer's smirk made you suddenly nervous..what is he planning? You hope he doesn't have some trick up his sleeves.... really, he's kinda stupid..but not when he's playing games! It could be any type of game, and he'll win with passing colors. You didn't even know what to do to win against him at least once.

"W-What? What's with your smirk?" Killer shrugged. "It's nothing...why? Scared~?" You snorted, and let out nervous laughs. "Hah! You're kidding? Pfft..no..just.... why are you smirking...?" He couldn't help but laugh at your sheepishness. "Nothing.. really....I just like looking at you. I like playing games with you. You make playing them fun." You couldn't help the blush forming on your face. "....thank you, Killer...I also like playing games with you. Your overconfidence is very attractive." Killer suddenly stopped what he was doing, which was drinking, and spit out the said drink. He wasn't expecting that. And now... he's the one flustered.

Unfortunately, he didn't noticed your successful win in his dreamy daze...

Dust:

He doesn't pay you much mind. He knows too much skeletons to handle another one...

He views you just as a stupid joker that will only make his life more miserable....until he finds out you weren't born as a skeleton, but became a skeleton after you died.

His opinions about you didn't changed much. He just became less harsh with you.

He does feel very interested in the details of how does one even become a skeleton..but feels shy to outright ask you. Especially if you're sensitive about that topic! He would never ever wish to make you uncomfortable!

He starts to try to talk to you after he finds out that Horror trusts you. If Horror trusts you, then you can't be a stick in the mud or anything like that? Right?

You guys actually have a very pleasant conversation. You find his journalling cute, which he curses you for. 'He's not cute damn it!' yes he is. He very much is.

He panicked the first time he saw your broken bones after a mission. He'll ask you tons of questions about what happened, while patching you up like an angry/worried mom.

After that, he doesn't let you do everything alone. He has to supervise if something bad happens! (Just an excuse to hang out with you more)

He often likes to test out some 'gadgets' he makes specifically for you, to stable your fragility. Some kinda help, but some don't help at all.

He has a journal titled 'Y/n'. At first, like usual, he writes about your powers... species etc.. but after awhile of getting to know you, it slowly shifts to writing about trivial things, that he doesn't normally writes in his journals..

Things like: your favorite color, drink,...your ideal date. (don't ask him why that's an important information.)

You sit on a chair, watching as Killer and Horror play a game. It was getting pretty heated, until you felt a hand tap you. You turn around, only to be met with Dust's chest. You pause, cursing under your breath, until finally shifting your gaze upwards on his face.

Dust shyly smiles down at you. "Hey..." You nod at him. "Hi." There's an awkward silence for awhile, until he finally speaks. "Uhm. So, Horror told me how nice you are... so I decided to give you a chance to prove yourself... Prove to me that you're not like the other skeletons." You slightly gulped, staring at him with confusion. "Ok.. so..what? You wanna play 20 questions?" He nodded, sitting down next to you. And so...your little game began.

The questions were quite normal. Ranging from 'What's your favorite color?' to 'Favorite animal?'. Dust suddenly asked you a question that made you pause for a bit..

"Do you have a significant other?" You blinked up at him.. thinking it over. "No...I don't. No one really made me interested, you know? Besides... I'm a little romantic in these sort of things! Heh..." Dust looked at you, curious. "Oh? We're your fantasies unfulfilled?" You slowly nodded at his question in embarrassment...

"I just want to be given flowers romantically, finding little romantic notes on my table from my secret admirer.... I know that it's a little fairytale-like. But I just like the thought of that..." Dust hummed, looking off to the side.

—

You get up from your bed as you hear knocking on your door. Nightmare couldn't possibly be requesting you for a mission at this hour?! You open the door, only to be met with Dust's eyes. You smile at him, relief washing over you to find out it's not Nightmare... "Dust? What're you doing here so late at night?" He smiled softly at you, blushing. He suddenly showed you a beautiful banquet of your favorite flowers! He held them out to you. You took them from his hands, feeling touched at this gesture. "Huh..? Dust.. what's all this for?" He smiled. "Do you remember when you told me about your romantic fantasies that were unfulfilled?" Ah yes. It was a little way back..you smiled at the thought. "You...did this for me?" Dust, yet again smiled and patted your head. "Anything for you... Sleep well, princess." You were left there with the biggest blush on your face. No fair Dust! You looked at the flowers again, smiling warmly, until getting inside your room.

You placed the flowers in a vase, and put it on your table. As you did this, a letter suddenly appeared on your table. You jump a little, not expecting that. You took the letter in your hands, reading it. It was a love poem, written for you! At the very bottom of the letter is signed: 'Your secret admirer'. You hug the letter in giddiness. He didn't forget...

Of course he didn't. How could he...when he has it written down in his journal. ;)

Horror:

He's... interested, to say the least. Horror always felt like something is different about you, call it a sixth sense or something, but he just somehow knew you weren't a 100% pure skeleton. (You smelled different 💀)

That's why he kept following you around... You found it quite cute, but from other people's perspective...it was.. terrifying.

He was like your own guard dog.

You tried making conversations with him, but he would never respond.

He did watch you closely while you talked.. but it was really like if you were talking to yourself.

It kinda seemed like he never listened to you, but truth be told, he did listen. Just never responded.

He was never much for talking anyways. He's a good listener though! 👍

He panicked when he heard your bones break the first time. And when I mean panic.... I mean he went absolutely bonkers.

After that, whenever you were on missions he sat you on his shoulders. (I HC that out of all the sanses, Horror's the tallest)

This slowly became a normal occurrence to you. You would be standing somewhere, he would come and sit you on his shoulders.

I mean...you didn't complain. 🤷‍♀️

You were talking with Horror about your day, as he watched you with that smile of his. Wait... he's probably not listening. He's not listening...you probably bore him. Now you feel bad.. you're wasting his time..You slowly stopped talking after awhile, glancing down. Horror looked at you in confusion.

"Something..the matter..?" He carefully put his hand on your shoulder. You sighed, looking up at him once again. "No.. it's just.....It doesn't really seem like you ever listen to me...I feel like I'm only wasting your time with this, sorry.. I'll just go now-" as you were about to run away, he stopped you, holding your hand. "Wait..!" You looked at him curiously. He looked really sad..

"...I...." No words were coming out of him, as he felt shy under your gaze. He inhaled a deep breath, and then exhaled. "..please..don't...leave..." He coughs a little to make himself stop talking so slowly. "This is...all I'm....waiting for...at the end...of the day.....Y/n..." You feel touched by his words. "I'm always...listening....to you...I love your voice.." it took everything in you to not burst out into tears.

You went up to him and hugged him. "Aww! Horror....I thought you're never listening to me! Thank you.." Horror blushed red, but smiled, enjoying your hugs. He returned your hugs with a smile similar to a puppy..

He's surely going to try engaging in your conversations now! He doesn't ever want to see that broken expression on your face again..not when he's around.

[inyourgravehcs]

♡ Sweet dreams ♡

❥ TAGS: gn!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff. I'm a little late, but happy birtday, Xiao, my beloved.

The clear sky, unencumbered by a single cloud, a blossoming tree spreading it’s wide branches in all directions, the gentle warmth of the sun's rays tickling his skin playfully. A beautiful scenery, previously unknown to Xiao. The blood stained soil, a devastated battlefield, chains of despair curling around his limbs and restraining them — this was what he was used to, not this gentle idyll.

But more important than anything else is the fact that you're here.

He always feared that if your image suddenly appeared in his dreams, he would plunge into the very depths of his ugly mind, disfigured by thousands of years of torment. That he would have to fight himself, protecting a fragile figure that had nothing to do with the vile spawn of the adeptus’ inner demons. What if he had failed to shelter you from this hidden danger? Was his title as your guard valid in that case? How weak would he be if he couldn't even keep you safe from his own subconscious? One thing he knew for sure: If that had happened, he could have been considered to have succumbed to darkness from that moment on.

But it didn't happen.

No, it’s exactly the opposite. With your appearance, it was as if you had healed the bleeding wounds of his mind, and with a gentle touch you had quelled the insatiable karma. With every step you took, flowers bloomed on the ground instead of the scars of the past, and the frozen earth came alive again, giving birth to something beautiful.

He no longer hears voices. He hears only the quiet rustling of the grass beneath your heels, coming closer with each step. It was truly astonishing, How the peaceful silence suddenly puts an end to the calm and gives rise to a newfound anxiety, the source of which is unknown. A new sound beats in Xiao's ears, different from anything he has heard before. Yaksha listens intently to the unknown with his eyes closed, trying to determine its direction - only to realize that it's his heart coming alive because of your growing proximity to him.

There you are, right here, less than a meter away from him. So many thoughts run through the Adeptus’ head at once, almost overwhelming in their intensity, but that ends when you reach out and gently take Xiao's face in your hands. So firmly, but at the same time so tenderly, that peace falls over your lover’s mind. His shallow breath falters from second to second, and he doesn't even notice himself snuggling into the oh so cherished by him palms, squinting his eyes contentedly. So warm and serene... When was the last time he felt like this in a dream? His love-stricken consciousness sighs for you so much that Yaksha can't realize tears coming to his eyes, threatening to roll down his cheeks in thin streams that will never end if so happens.

But that's why you're here. For him. The sight of your lover is pitiful, but also admirable — how strong does he have to be to hold back such untold amounts of pain and grief for centuries? Outlining the delicate skin of Xiao's cheek with a kind stroke, you admire his cathartic state that was yearning to come out for so many years. Your thumb reaches for the corner of your lover's eye as if of its own volition, picking up a heavy tear and brushing it away at the same moment.

He stares at you with a sudden realization, not taking his eyes off you for a moment. Golden irises glisten and shimmer, moistened by such a sudden but welcomed flood of tears. The glow of the wet glare of his eyes gives him a far more emotional appearance.

In that moment, it seemed as if your hearts united. That they beat as one - in unison.

Sighing lovingly, you press your lover's face against your chest, hugging the back of his head. At the same moment, Xiao's breath stops: like a frightened cat, with his eyes wide open, he presses himself against his beloved's heart, not daring to move a millimeter. At this moment, adeptus seems amusingly adorable because of the contrast with his already established image. But really? He was really nothing more than a lost soul, flitting from place to place, hoping to find his ultimate destination. A bewildered creature who had suffered much and put on a thick protective shell. You knew that — knew it better than anyone else, and you knew how to handle it.

A slight smile had been on your face all this time. That's how your lover really is, a lost little chick who's heart is so fragile. You could play an entire symphony on the strings of his soul, and he wouldn't even be able to resist you — but you won't. You're here to save and heal Xiao.

That's why you touch his hair, stroking it and playing with the short, curly strands. A gesture of comfort, full of genuine concern. He accepts it, and accepts it willingly; he clutches tightly to your chest and sighs with relief. The moment was impossibly tender in its sweetness - not even the most exquisite almond tofu could stand next to it. It seemed like it couldn't get any better, and trying to interrupt the perfect moment of union with each other would be a sin — but you had a talent for making everything better. Cautiously, you lifted his chin with your index finger, causing your eyes to meet again. Smiling casually, you lean closer and closer, shortening the distance between your faces…

“Xiao, what's next?! You've been beating around the bush for how long now, constantly stammering!”

...No. He couldn't just recount that moment of the dream to you like that.

“Don't look at me like that!” Xiao exclaimed with his eyes wide open, pressing his hands to his cheeks in an attempt to hide the acute embarrassment he felt. “It's... Personal.”

“How can it be more personal when we're already a couple?”

After taking a deep breath, you roll your eyes, sighing defiantly. No, he certainly looks really cute right now, but you need to know what was next!

“Hmm. Since you won't tell me about that part of the dream, why don't I reconstruct the course of events in reality and see how it ends?”

A sly smile lights up your face, while Xiao is at a loss for words and stammering incoherently, trying to squeeze out some sort of answer.

Of course, you couldn't waste any time at such a perfect moment. You'd shortened the distance between you two in just a few quick steps, and you were already holding Xiao’s face in your hands, recalling in your head his warm descriptions of his dream today. His anticipatory look of excitement couldn't help but awaken in you the very same tenderness he must have been looking for in you the most every time.

“So that's how you see me....”

The Yaksha's confused eyes softened, and his troubled breathing normalized. Swallowing tensely, he only nods eagerly a couple of times, forfeiting the need to be blunt and straightforward with his answer.

Closing your eyes, just as in his dream, you cradle his head against your chest — stroking, caressing the scalp and dark green hair. A perfectly reproduced moment that makes the hearts of both of you belt out an excited tune.

Not without its nuances, though, ‘cause the real you was far more multifaceted than your dream version.

“Xiao," you whispered his name playfully, "I'll be sure to recreate every moment like in your sweet dream... But I'll have to improvise on the part you were too shy to describe.”

♡ ── ✦ ──『♡』── ✦ ── ♡

Please note that english isn't my native language and can be awkward at times.

Please don't translate or repost my works without asking for my permission first!

[scribblestatic]

I promise y'all I'm not trying to slow burn y'all to the confrontation; I just thought of this situation considering Liu Qingge's dead in this universe and I had to write it first qwq

As an apology, this one is much longer than the others. I even put a Read More on it, it's that long.

Prev: Part 3

---

Luo Binghe isolated Shen Yuan for a while at the beginning. He was exceptionally unhealthy and had a hard time holding conversations at first due to exhaustion. However, after a few weeks, his body started filling in and his hair wasn't nearly as fragile.

By this point, the wives had heard that Shen Qingqiu was removed from the Water Prison and taken to Luo Binghe's quarters. Of course, some of the ladies wanted to know why, considering all of the horrors Shen Qingqiu forced on his young student. Little Palace Mistress in particular was ready to whip him to shreds like she had done several times before.

However, instead of the others, the first one to see him is Liu Mingyan.

She had snuck in, back before Luo Binghe more heavily warded his quarters from his still-large harem.

She found him in Binghe's bed, still sallow but looking healthier, hair spread out on the pillow, both eyes closed. The one without an eyeball had a flattened, drooping eyelid uncovered by an eyepatch at the moment. She stared down at him for a good while, noting how the sheets didn't fill with his limbs like they did for others. Gazing at how his chest moved with each breath.

Eventually, she started to move, raising the dagger she had in her hand.

"...Excuse me."

Her eyes flicked up to his face, seeing his remaining eye open.

From his gaze, she ended up freezing.

After all, there was no way the Shen Qingqiu she knew had such a calm, almost kind look to him.

"This one would usually not hinder you on your quest for revenge... However, it seems Luo Binghe desires this one alive. I, ah, cannot say how he would react upon returning to see me dead." His eye looks away. "And, this one isn't the Shen Qingqiu you are familiar with. Apparently you can tell from my qi? Please check as you wish."

He shifted a bit, raising his right arm before pausing. After all, he only had about half of his bicep left.

"Ah. Right. I don't have wrists anymore."

They paused in an awkward silence, and Liu Mingyan lowered the dagger.

"...Your voice sounds different."

"Does it? For some reason, I can't tell. It sounds like me, but also doesn't sound like me. But I guess this one doesn't sound like Shen Jiu."

"Who is that."

"Ah, Shen Qingqiu. Or, well, he was." The amputated man in the bed smiled waveringly, and expression she never once thought she'd ever see on such a face. How did he manage to make such sharp eyes soften like that? "This one is Shen Yuan though. Luo Binghe summoned me here... Not exactly sure why, but I'm sure it's for a good reason."

His manner of speech was still polite, but his tone was more casual. And tired, a little like it took some effort for him to interact with her. There were also bags below his present eye, the eyelid to the other one having lifted slightly from muscle memory. She saw the scarring inside, her own eye twitching in unwilling sympathetic pain.

The eyelid shut tightly a moment later.

"Ah, excuse me. This one is sorry you have to see me in such a state. I'm sure it's quite ugly."

She stared down at him a while longer before she left without saying anything else.

Of course, once Luo Binghe returned and Shen Yuan talked about Liu Mingyan's visit (sans the dagger, of course), the demon emperor responded by more heavily warding his quarters and giving a firm talking to his harem about not visiting his shizun.

(Why, they wondered, did he say that word with affection now when it previously only curled from his mouth doused in hatred?)

Still, while Liu Mingyan pondered over the strange spirit taking up residence in Shen Qingqiu's body, the spirit, Shen Yuan, asked to be able to visit her. Luo Binghe told her this, his arms crossed and appearing very unsatisfied.

"He cannot come to you. So you go to him."

Luo Binghe wasn't one to order her around, not usually. Unless he needed martial assistance, for her to follow him during the many battles they fought in together at that point, or they wanted to share body heat, he left her to herself. She had a firm position in the harem, a powerful one at that, so it was not often she received any sort of order.

But he ordered her to visit Shen Yuan, who had wanted to somehow visit her himself.

Strange...

--

"Ah, this one didn't really think about his mobility when I asked to visit you. This one apologizes to have disturbed you."

This time, he's dressed in more layers than just his night clothes. He also has an eyepatch over his empty right socket. Instead of a top-do, his hair is tied with a ribbon along his lower back, still going easy on the styles as his hair recovers. He seems more comfortable than he was when she first saw him.

Again, that sheepishly polite look on his face. The likelihood that this was just some other scheme by Shen Qingqiu to harm Luo Binghe in some way seemed increasingly less likely. Besides, he had said something about being summoned into the body.

She really should've checked his soul that night. Luo Binghe had told her not to touch him, and at that moment, he was currently sitting in a nearby chair, acting as though he wasn't paying attention by reading a book.

"...Hmm. You haven't disturbed me. This Mingyan was also interested in seeing you again."

"For certain, you must have questions. This one probably produced more than answered them when we first met. I hope to clear up what I can."

So, she asks about what he meant that he was Shen Yuan, and he said he wasn't Shen Jiu but someone else. He's dodgy when she asks where he came from, but he does at least say that he's from another world, which...sounds quite like what Luo Binghe had said after he temporarily disappeared after a battle, instead replaced by some strange replica of him.

The other him had been tall, his hair curling like a curtain of waves along his back. His skin was darker, body more built with muscle and health. He was, indeed, incredibly handsome.

If not for the fact he had been extremely hostile.

He fought viciously, nearly killing Sha Hualing in one of her usual attempts to fight their lord husband, only realizing that he wasn't him and shifting to fighting him with the intent to kill. But instead, he used a sword that seemed to be Xin Mo, but wrapped in bindings that hindered its presence and power. Moreover, the moves he used, the talismans, the sword forms...

He had been trained properly in Qing Jing's martial arts, only seemingly lacking in some experience. But he overcame her with sheer force of power and technique.

After he managed to leave, their lord husband later returned, a strange braid having made its way into his hair.

He has yet to take it down, even now.

He returned with distress and a renewed anger toward Shen Qingqiu. From what she could hear, he had roared in fury at him, demanding to know why he couldn't have been "like him." Why he deserved vitriol from him at all.

It seemed to hurt Luo Binghe more to have conclusive evidence that Shen Qingqiu could've been different than it had been to imagine it.

...Was this "Shen Yuan" supposed to be a different Shen Qingqiu, summoned into the broken body of another version of himself?

Shen Yuan cringes when she asks, saying he would never have been anything like that "scum villain." Their souls have to be entirely different. It just so happens he occupied this empty body and Luo Binghe...wants something from him, and that he'll do what he can to help with whatever it is.

Liu Mingyan sends a look toward Luo Binghe, who gazes at the back of Shen Yuan's head, not even facing his book anymore.

She understands it then.

She's unsure what spell he'd used, but it does seem Shen Yuan truly is another soul summoned into Shen Qingqiu's body. The child who had wanted a kind shizun...he never healed. Is this his way of getting what he wants now? But, isn't this a loss of some sort?

Sure, the soul inside Shen Qingqiu is polite and kind, if not a bit oblivious, but it's not Shen Jiu (his name before courtesy, apparently). The true Shen Qingqiu never changed, even until he had to be replaced.

And now, Shen Qingqiu no longer has to suffer for the sins he committed, like murdering her brother.

Dissatisfaction curls in her heart... But it's not something to take out on the soul now inside his body. So, even if she doesn't quite return the sentiment, she at least isn't rude to him.

After their meeting ends, she talks to Ning Yingying, who had been worrying about the situation.

She seems relieved that Shen Qingqiu's soul is gone.

--

After several months, here's how some major ladies relate with Shen Yuan:

Liu Mingyan: Good Friendship

After their meeting, they didn't really talk much until she found him reading one of her books and he waxed poetic about its good, bad, ugly, and beautiful points. He turned so pale when she revealed she'd written it, but she also found herself appreciative of his honesty with her work. She starts showing him her drafts, which he reviews just as honestly as he did before, and they become more friendly.

Shen Yuan temporarily recedes from their friendship after he starts having more Shen Jiu dreams, and after she asks him what's wrong enough times, he finally has a sit down with her and confesses that he might actually be Shen Jiu, and he doesn't feel he deserves her friendship. They do become strained for a good minute again, but she eventually asks him to tell her why he killed Liu Qingge.

He was going to lie, but instead, he tells the truth—he hadn't meant to. In the dreams, he's trying desperately to save Liu Qingge, but his own poor control and cultivation accidentally kills him. He never confessed that it was an accident out of guilt and shame and that he felt he basically murdered Liu Qingge. The fact Shen Yuan starts crying during this distresses him further, as he feels it's even more proof that he might be Shen Jiu.

But Liu Mingyan is distressed for a different reason, since it means she took her anger and revenge out on a man who had actually tried to save her brother. They both don't talk for a while again, neither feeling like they deserve to associate with the other. However, when they both try to apologize, they say the other doesn't need to: Liu Mingyan because Shen Jiu was a grown man and should've told the truth, even if he didn't feel he'd be believed, and Shen Yuan because he might not even be Shen Jiu, and even if he was, then she's the one who wrong him more.

Shen Yuan insists that she was only working off what information she received and she couldn't be held accountable for that, but Liu Mingyan says that she would hold herself accountable for her response, and that she has to accept that she was in the wrong. Because Shen Qingqiu never said he had killed Liu Qingge, and had she not been caught up in her feelings, she could've seen how silent he was about accusations toward him, even if they were wild.

That makes Shen Yuan go quiet since he's thinking about how often Shen Jiu stays silent to accusations that, via his dreams, he's realizing weren't ever true.

After some time, their relationship heals, and they start talking again. He sees her as someone reliable and straightforward, and she sees him as someone incredibly forgiving, who has a kind heart that's honestly too soft for the dangerous world they live in. So, she ends up becoming something of a guardian friend for him whenever Binghe's away. She also enjoys talking about trashy smut novels with him while learning how to write even better prose and storylines.

Ning Yingying: Currently? Strained.

At first, he becomes very close to her after Liu Mingyan told her that Shen Qingqiu's soul was replaced by someone else. She quickly went to get to know him and learn more about him, chatting it up and being her outgoing, friendly self. However, after a few times, Shen Yuan can sense that there's something a tad strained about how she associates with him under it all.

She's the first one he tells about the strange Shen Jiu dreams, which took him a while to decide to tell anyone about anyway.

She, ah, did not react well.

Ning Yingying had turned pale and left the room hurriedly. The attendants at the time started talking about him "showing his true colors" on the grapevine (which prompts him to confess to Binghe and eventually prompts Liu Mingyan's visit and his confession to her about possibly being Shen Jiu). Shen Yuan first thinks she ran away from him because he had sexually groomed her, and he even recedes from accepting Luo Binghe's attention as well, which put them in a rocky spot.

But then he has a dream about Shen Jiu's relationship with Ning Yingying, and...

No. Nothing.

If anything, he just had a familial relationship with her. Shen Jiu thought of Ning Yingying as a daughter.

He watched Shen Jiu keep her from working in the Warm Red Pavilion when she was perhaps too young to remember, right around the same time he dreams that he actually went there to avoid being around the men on the peak. He paid special attention to her because of his distaste for men, to the point he doted on her too much.

When he brought Luo Binghe onto his peak just to spite Liu Qingge, Ning Yingying's attention on him didn't spark jealousy, but fear.

He was afraid that Luo Binghe would become like Qiu Jianluo, and Ning Yingying would become like Qiu Haitang. That fueled his unjustified hatred and mistreatment toward Luo Binghe, as though expecting him specifically to become just like the man who assaulted him...

And didn't he? Didn't Luo Binghe become that person in the end? All because of a self-fulfilling prophecy that didn't have to be that way if Shen Jiu trusted someone else and got help. He turned Luo Binghe into his worst nightmare. And Ning Yingying...lied to help get him imprisoned.

Remember the pause during Liu Mingyan's part when they were apologizing to each other? That was him thinking about Shen Jiu's problem: he never spoke up, assuming no one would believe him. He helped cause his own problems...but he couldn't even blame it all on Shen Jiu's secretive nature anymore.

Not long after he and Liu Mingyan make up (with some remaining strain with Binghe, but the man hasn't abandoned taking care of him, thankfully), he dreams about Ning Yingying's false account of his lewd nature. And he feels, in his own chest, that Shen Jiu felt utterly abandoned by everyone in the world. Meanwhile, he kept quiet, thinking that it would help separate himself from Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, because despite his cattiness, he genuinely loved his position and felt pride in rising to power. The bamboo forest and the quiet pool had been his sanctuary.

He was satisfied with allowing himself to be destroyed if it meant the sect would survive. And his sect siblings just...let it happen. And so did Ning Yingying, pushing it along with her false testimony.

...Perhaps she saw the writing on the wall. Maybe she knew that Luo Binghe would seek to repay every grievance. Despite his sacrifice, Qing Jing Peak was lost, his sanctuary burnt to the ground. Because of his stupid pride, because of false testimonies and beliefs, and because his sect members hated him just as much as he despised himself.

If that was the the case, then Shen Yuan can't blame her for choosing the path to survival. She knew Luo Binghe loved her, and he taught her to care for herself. And that she did. So really, could he blame her for applying what he taught her to do? No. No, he couldn't. And he wouldn't.

She survived and is living well. As much as his heart hurts at the betrayal, he should've been a better person. Perhaps then, he could've kept the people he loved closer to him...

Shen Yuan blinked, realizing he forgot to think of it as Shen Jiu and not himself.

Ning Yingying has yet to speak to him again as of the time for his crowning ceremony, but at least he knows from a severely apologetic Luo Binghe that it's because she confessed the truth of her lie. She was present at his wedding, though they didn't speak much. He continues to extend an invitation to see her. She continues to deny it, so for now, he's leaving the door to communication quietly open.

This is getting a bit too long, so one last one for now!

Sha Hualing: Antagonistic, but actually friendly

It helps, in this case, that Shen Yuan's aware that Sha Hualing, born and raised as a demon, beats up on and teases people she likes. Of course, she can't actually beat up on him since Luo Binghe promised severe pain if she ever does. So, instead, she teases him. A lot.

At first, it was really meanspirited. She said a few things about his limbs that no reasonable person should laugh at. But Shen Yuan had joked back at her, firmly thinking he isn't Shen Jiu (and later, upon thinking he might be Shen Jiu, thinking he deserves it), so it didn't matter. She was thrown off at first, but found herself liking him for having thick skin.

After he and Liu Mingyan start having book club, Sha Hualing skulks around and teased him in more meanspirited but non-physically harmful ways, like poking him, flipping his hair over his head, or picking him up and holding him like a stuffed animal.

Although Shen Yuan can be oblivious, he starts recognizing her behavior as jealousy and eventually point-blank asks her if she's jealous of his time with Binghe. She huffs and doesn't react much, so, since he is now more aware of his own sexuality, he thinks further and askes if she's jealous of the time he spends with Liu Mingyan.

Sha Hualing sputters and huffs and calls him a fool, and Shen Yuan's expression steadily shifts from surprise to the most trollish grin she'd ever seen. She keeps insisting that wasn't the case, but Shen Yuan, having smelt blood in the water, brings out all his previous internet troll behavior to the point even she has to retreat.

Though, he does tell her later that he wouldn't tell Liu Mingyan if she doesn't want him to, which she appreciates. She eventually admits to him that she likes her, and though she was married to Luo Binghe, she wouldn't mind spending time romancing Liu Mingyan. Shen Yuan figures that since the two are in a harem (he hadn't married in yet), it isn't wrong for wives to love each other. Though, it turns out that was actually quite modern thinking, since it was expected for harem members to only dedicate themselves to their husband.

Shen Yuan: "...Eh? Since when do you follow those sorts of rules?"

Sha Hualing: *surprised Pikachu face* "Oh wow, you're right."

So, Sha Hualing askes Liu Mingyan out, and now they are dating while still being married to Luo Binghe, who, as it turns out, didn't care at all whether or not they had sex or dated each other.

When Shen Yuan receded from his friendship with Liu Mingyan upon starting to think he might actually be Shen Jiu, she's the one who motivated Liu Mingyan to try speaking with him. He told Mingyan about the dream and the truth, and they both stopped talking for less than a week before apologizing to each other. Sha Hualing calls them both foolish later on, and Shen Yuan gripes at her, who gripes right back.

Also, unbeknownst to Shen Yuan, Sha Hualing is part of the reason why Ning Yingying hasn't come back to talk to him again. Sure, Sha Hualing is a demon who betrayed her family to have power with Luo Binghe, but that's a demon's way. She teases Ning Yingying, calling her more like a demon than a human, which is an otherwise friendly jab, but, like with Shen Yuan's limbs, stabs close to home a tad too much.

So, it turns into a genuine fight, with Ning Yingying saying how she didn't like what Sha Hualing did to her own father, but Sha Hualing just says the equivalent of, "Hey pot, I'm the kettle. But at least I'm honest about it," which actually does kinda rub Sha Hualing the wrong way.

As of the crowning ceremony, Sha Hualing is friendly antagonistic toward Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe, dating Liu Mingyan, and mildly dismissive toward Ning Yingying.

---

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4: here Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Part 11+: links on Part 10

AO3

[ammuusseedd]

My roman empire is all the clues in 02x07 (and a little of 02x06) that Lestat was mostly mind-controlled during the trial so here we go

We start with the introduction of Lestat in 02x06:

He's smoking... In front of a mirror. Film language and all that jazz.

At the beginning of episode 7, you can see his hands look like they're bruised. Why would that be?

When describing first seeing Lestat, Louis says: "It (Lestat being there) had all the hallmarks of a hallucination."

When saying about Nicki "Fragile mind prone to corruption", you can see Lestat minutely shake his head as if he's disagreeing with what he's saying. It could be grief but then seconds later he kind of blames Armand for his death because he looks at him in the audience.

Next there is a moment that is supported by a rumour so take it with a grain of salt, but the first time Madeleine "wakes up" she starts mumbling French (there is another moment later on). The rumour (from an extra on set, allegedly) stated that Lestat was trying to speak through her, because he couldn't talk telepathically with Louis or Claudia. Of course she was the easiest to control by the coven so it didn't work.

Next we have Lestat holding this pose for several seconds (can't gif, you need to trust me his leg just stays like that, like a puppet).

At one point Lestat is literally napping in the chair while Santiago is making excuses for The Drop. Then he goes off script.

While Lestat is apologising to Louis about The Drop, we have Santiago panicking and looking at Celeste (Madame Justice), who's representing the coven controlling Louis and Claudia... Because she's supposed to keep him under control too! But she's like, idk, love conquers all or something.

So this is kind of important because Armand also admits here Lestat is going off script, you can't script a hurricane etc. Louis is also wondering why Lestat is such a weirdo, going to Paris to sentence him to death, but then apologising and Armand goes, omg you can never know with this guy, he makes you wonder what's real... Sure Jan.

A bit later we have Louis asking Lestat if that's what he wanted/ this is working for him and Lestat is uncharacteristically quiet, almost as if someone is keeping him that way... We could speculate he looks angry about it, even.

Also Madeleine stands up and tries to reach Claudia - but she was controlled by the coven, right? So maybe whoever was controlling her at that moment is busy subduing someone else.

And this is not related to Lestat, but to Armand. He's talking about how the audience is hypnotized by the performance of Lestat & Santiago but when he says, "Piranhas looking up through the tank water, waiting for the chum to be dumped.", we get a shot of Armand looking up at the stage.

I'm sure there's lots of stuff I've missed, because tbh I'm not that observant and a lot of these had to be pointed out to me, but overall does it make sense that Lestat would also ask to be sentenced the same as Louis and Claudia? During the whole trial, he is very inconsistent in his acting - at times sounding robotic, at time gesturing with lots of artifice, as shown above, at times napping. We know Sam's not a bad actor, so it's logical to conclude those were choices.

If you have more examples, please add them so I can deepen my obsession with this topic even further.

[one-flower-one-sword]

"Mu Qing spat out a mouthful of blood and grimaced like he'd been stabbed where it hurt. He replied, spiteful slowly, "Thank goodness I kicked you out. If we'd kept you in the army and let you get closer to His Highness, were you going to watch him all day with your mind full of unspeakable filth? Disgusting!"

Xie Lian's heart squeezed violently. Hua Cheng had his fist raised at first, but it froze in midair when Mu Qing spat the word "disgusting." Veins bulged on the back of his pale hand. The fingers clenched and loosened, loosened then clenched.

A long moment later, Hua Cheng said icily, "For now, I won't argue with you on that point. [...]"

TGCF Volume 6, page 66

Hua Cheng's reaction here is really interesting - and gets more heartbreaking the more you think about it. I think to understand it, we need to take a look at his distorted self-image and his extreme self-blame whenever he feels he's failed Xie Lian in some way. While doing this, I think it's important to keep in mind that we're looking at these things as separate from Hua Cheng's very real - and very earned! - confidence in his knowledge, abilities, and strength. He knows exactly what he can and can't do and has no problems stating those things as facts. That "aggressive, rebellious confidence" as Xie Lian describes it is a defining part of Hua Cheng's personality and who he is as a person, that is then juxtaposed by a surprising fragility in other matters.

Right when we meet Hua Cheng at just ten years old, he's already been abused for so long and so severely that it's made him actively suicidal. He's also already internalized that his right eye is ugly, evidenced by the way that he keeps covering it with his hands when the bandages are removed after he was beaten and dragged through the streets by Qi Rong and his lackeys:

After a pause, Xie Lian smiled softly. "The doctors will see to your wounds now. Don't be afraid and lower your hands, okay?" The child heard but hesitantly shook his head.

"Why not?" Xie Lian asked.

He was silent for a long time before replying, "Ugly."

TGCF Volume 2, page 349

The right side of his face also appears to receive the most abuse when he gets beaten, as Xie Lian realizes when he sees him again a few years later and his bandages come loose after being attacked by a group of other kids:

During that scuffle, the bandages on the boy's head had been partially yanked off, giving a peek on the other half of his face. It was quite swollen, covered in black and blue bruises. It was obvious that these injuries hadn't been caused by the brawl just now. TGCF Volume 3, page 56

It can be deduced that he probably learned very early in his life that if people see his eye, he gets beaten. It seems to be known around the area that he frequently gets beaten up and kicked out by his family, to a point where even kids from wealthier families know about him and refer to him as apparently everyone else does - the "ugly freak":

"Wow, wow, the ugly freak got kicked out again!" Although these kids were all around the same age as the boy in the shrine, every single one of them was taller than him and looked like their parents fed them well. There was probably a holiday coming up, since they were all dressed in new clothes and shoes. [...] "Hey, ugly freak, are you sleeping at the shrine again tonight? Watch out, your mom is gonna beat the crap outta you when you get home!"

TGCF Volume 3, pages 54-55

This post is going to get quite long, so I'm putting the rest under a read more.

Hua Cheng seems to internalize this view of himself as something ugly and revolting to a point where even hundreds of years later, he's wary about showing Xie Lian his true form. At the same time, he seems to long deeply for Xie Lian to see and accept the real him, so he tries to test the waters when Xie Lian asks the "young master" on the ox cart what Hua Cheng looks like :

The youth laughed. "Who knows? But he's blind in one eye." He pointed to his right eye. "This one."

That was nothing outrageous. Xie Lian recalled one of the many backstory versions where Hua Cheng wore a black eyepatch to hide that missing eye and asked, "Do you know what happened to that eye?"

"That's a question everyone wants the answer to," the youth replied. Others asked because they wanted to know what Hua Cheng's weakness was, but Xie Lian asked purely out of curiosity. He didn't say anything, and the youth continued, "He dug it out himself."

TGCF Volume 1, page 175

And then again after they're back from Banyue:

Hua Cheng didn't turn around but continued to stare at the dilapidated ceiling of the shrine, and Xie Lian could only see this handsome young man's left profile. Hua Cheng said softly, "If I was ugly."

"Huh?" Xie Lian gaped.

Hua Cheng finally turned his head slightly. "If my true appearance is ugly, would you still want to see it?"

Xie Lian was taken aback. "Is it? Although there's no real reason, I never thought your true appearance would be too horrible-looking."

"Who knows?" Hua Cheng said, half-jokingly. "What if I'm discolored, disfigured, ugly, monstrous, and horrible. What will you do?"

At first, Xie Lian thought this line of inquiry was rather fascinating. So the overlord of the Ghost Realm, the one called the devil incarnate and feared by all in the heavens, would care about his looks? But when he thought about it deeply, he didn't think it was very funny anymore. He vaguely recalled, in one of the many rumored backstories of Hua Cheng, one said that he was a disfigured child from birth, or something along those lines. If that was true, then he must've grown up discriminated against by others. Maybe that was why he was particularly sensitive about his appearance.

TGCF Volume 1, pages 369-370

This quote is really long but I wanted to include all of it because Xie Lian's realization here is very important - Hua Cheng's issues don't stem from vanity but from being othered and subsequently abused because of his unusual red right eye. The society they're in shows many instances of ableism, racism, xenophobia and classism, where any attempted change to the status quo as well as anything that goes against "the norm" is regarded with instant suspicion and rejection - as Pei Ming puts it once, "Where there is abnormality, there is evil."

When he finally does show Xie Lian his true form, Hua Cheng is anxious about it up until Xie Lian remarks that it doesn't look bad:

Xie Lian examined him as he followed, smiling. "So, this is your real appearance." Hua Cheng paused slightly in his step. Maybe it was his imagination, but Hua Cheng's shoulders seemed to stiffen for a flash of a second. The moment didn't last, and Hua Cheng responded naturally. "I did say that the next time we met, I would greet you with my real appearance."

Xie Lian grinned and said earnestly, "Not bad." Xie Lian's tone wasn't teasing or consoling, the words were simply said. Hua Cheng gave a small smile back, and this time, it was genuinely relaxed.

TGCF Volume 2, page 103

Xie Lian's acceptance of his true form seems to have reassured Hua Cheng enough that he appears in it a lot more regularly after that, though it's always with the place where his right eye used to be carefully covered. He's also still too afraid to tell Xie Lian about their shared past and who he really is, and even more afraid to confess his feelings because he fears that then Xie Lian will no longer look at him with acceptance and instead see Hua Cheng as this:

He pointed at a little blood-red person on the wall. Right next to it, there were a bunch of messy, twisted, indiscernible characters - it looked like they had been written in a state of delirium or scrawled to vent the author's feeling during a period of extreme suffering. Based on those characters, Xie Lian could guess that the little blood-red person painted there was Hua Cheng himself, but for some unknown reason he had depicted himself as extremely ugly and disfigured.

[...] There was an ugly little blood-red figure at the bottom of the mural. It cupped a small flower in its hands, which it was offering to the statue.

TGCF Volume 6, pages 52-55

Hua Cheng having internalized this distorted "ugly freak" image of himself isn't the only thing tripping him up though. Every time he can't prevent Xie Lian from getting hurt or can't help him, Hua Cheng takes it as a personal failure on his part and immediately seeks to punish himself. Be that by lashing out at Eming, which is essentially an extension of himself:

Xie Lian stroked Eming. "Fangxin is still better suited." Fangxin remained motionless. Eming had tried so enthusiastically to offer itself up but was so blatantly rejected. It hopped back to Hua Cheng's side, weeping. Hua Cheng didn't spare it a single look before he smacked it with a backhand slap. "What are you crying about? This happened because you're useless! Trash!"

TGCF Volume 5, page 120

Or denying himself to touch Xie Lian, like after Xie Lian got accidentally hurt by Eming (an especially cruel punishment given that Hua Cheng had longed for Xie Lian for hundreds of years):

Hua Cheng, however, let go of his hand. "Don't mind them," he said to Xie Lian. "Come with me." His voice was low, the emotion behind it hard to discern. Yet the way he let go of Xie Lian's wrist was swift, almost like he'd been shaken off.

TGCF Volume 2, page 192

Repeatedly witnessing Xie Lian be brutalized and violated while he didn't yet have the power to stop it from happening traumatized Hua Cheng deeply and left him with a wrathful anger that he wields not only against those who wronged Xie Lian but also against himself for any and all perceived failures.

Now, what does all of this have to do with the quote that started it all? In it, Mu Qing accuses Hua Cheng that if they'd have kept him in the army, he would have kept watching Xie Lian "with his mind full of unspeakable filth! Disgusting!" (the fact that he describes a man having romantic feelings and sexual desires for another man in such a way comes off as extremely homophobic of course but that's not the topic of this post)

Hua Cheng, who hates Mu Qing deeply and with good reason, then not only stops his assault but actually goes on to say that he won't argue with him on that point for now. His inner conflict shows in the repeated clenching and loosening of the fingers in his fist - he's extremely angry and would usually never agree with Mu Qing, yet finds himself unable to deny his words. It's noticeable also that it's the "disgusting" that makes him freeze up.

So why would Hua Cheng, someone usually so confident and so unapologetically himself, concede this point to Mu Qing, someone he hates and who's just been viciously insulting him? I would argue that there are two possible reasons.

First of, if viewed through the lens of everything we reviewed in this post, Hua Cheng feels like he "can't argue" on this because he does desire Xie Lian and always has - while at the same time knowing that he, an ugly disfigured other that has repeatedly failed at keeping the God he's pledged his existence to safe from harm, could never be good enough to deserve being with said God like that.

Second of all, as I analyzed in my previous post, Hua Cheng's reaction to Xie Lian having seen the statues and murals is profound fear and heartbreak because he's so sure Xie Lian must now be scared of and disgusted by him. At this point in the story, Hua Cheng is still utterly convinced that his feelings aren't requited, which is something he can deal with. But what he can't bear is the prospect of his feelings, his very devotion, causing Xie Lian pain. Failing to keep Xie Lian safe from being harmed by others is bad enough, but hurting Xie Lian himself? Unforgivable. His fear that his desire for Xie Lian will be upsetting to him is so strong that even after the confession scene, his immediate reaction to Xie Lian even just mentioning the murals is "I'll go destroy them" (Volume 6, page 88), and he doesn't calm down until Xie Lian reassures them that he only saw a few of them and won't look at the others if Hua Cheng doesn't want him to.