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danieyells · 9 months ago

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Tokyo Debunker Stigmas, Artifacts, And Other Possibly Combat Relevant Information

Since we've met all of our current ghouls, I decided to share my non-comprehensive list of the stigmas and powers and weapons of the ghouls we've seen so far!! This isn't all of them because they haven't all been revealed or explained. But it should be everything we've seen so far! Let me know if/where I've missed things! I've also mentioned some other details for some of them, namely the less human ghouls.

Updated for: Episode 16

Jin Kamurai

Stigma

Incantation - Bianerus

Effect - forces the target to obey his command.

Currently cannot be activated without the PC's enhancement. At present, only Tohma, the PC, and few if any others know this.

Incantation can be recited mentally

Continuous commands("kneel") only seem to last a few minutes at most

Artifact

Sword - teleportation

Can be used to cut a portal into the air for teleporting someone with him, but doesn't appear to need this for just teleporting Jin

Teleportation takes more time depending on the distance from his current location to his target location

Jin is able to throw it quite precisely despite its size

Tohma Ishibashi

Stigma

Incantation - Argeas

Effect - "lets him send vibrations long distances"

Vibrations include the vibrations from his voice, allowing his voice to carry longer distances, making him heard further away

When enhanced he can break through anomalous soundproofing and better specify the direction his vibrations carry(as neither Kaito nor Luca heard his voice from outside the room)

Artifact

Halberd - ?

Able to tremble on its own. How much else it can move on its own is unclear.

Tohma claims it has a "troublesome" nature, and seeks to mow down anything in its path when it senses conflict and it takes a lot of effort to keep under control

Other

Tohma naturally has "brute strength" which, combined with his stigma, allows him to essentially make earthquakes.

Tohma has the trust of Darkwick, allowing him to easily get access to powerful common artifacts such as the skeleton key

Tohma takes alprazolam, "a fast-acting benzodiazepine used as both an anti-anxiety drug and a muscle relaxer. Used to manage anxiety, depression, insomnia, and physical symptoms caused by psychosomatic disorders." Tohma claims he takes them for headaches. Leo says they're very addictive and that Tohma has them refilled more often than is usual for headaches. It seems he's blackmailed a Mortkranken student into letting him have them. It's unclear if this is meant to be a sign of addiction or if they're actually necessary.

Tohma says he has "many attentive attending physicians" which may suggest some form of chronic medical problem.

Lucas Errant

Stigma

Incantation - Iggnaim

Effect - creates a barrier.

When enhanced the barrier becomes visible. It's significantly larger and supported by a large anomaly that's invisible to everyone but the PC and perhaps Kaito, even unable to be seen on cameras or by Luca himself.

The barrier doesn't appear to need to be around Luca specifically, as he protected Nina with it despite not being next to her. However it's uncertain how far he can project it as he was in the same room and for near her quickly to fight the Dullahan.

Artifact

Twin blades - ?

Appear identical aside from a difference in color.

Smashed through reenforced glass to choose him as their new master.

Apparently sound to Luca like a crying child. He believes the child must be begging for his help.

Other

Carries around a knife.

Kaito Fuji

Stigma

Incantation - ? (has an audio file, but the spelling hasn't been shown.)

Effect - "can see auras sometimes"

Does not need to be activated with his incantation, but appears to activate at random.

Auras have different colors for different people, allowing him to discern if an entity is the person they appear to be or not.

Hyde didn't sound certain about what it does.

Kaito has notably enhanced vision, able to see things that are further away and surprisingly makes him skilled at reading lips.

Kaito screams when Luca's stigma is enhanced, looking straight up at the anomaly it spawned despite no one else but the PC appearing to see it. While it's possible he only saw its aura, it's likely he saw the anomaly itself.

Artifact

Rogue bow - ?

Produces magic arrows that veer nonsensically off path when shot, except, seemingly, if there's a malicious or threatening target(?) at which point it will veer to save an endangered target(such as the ghost boy being taken by the arms) and/or go directly for the source of a threat or malice(such as the faceless anomaly about to attack the PC and Riku, the glowing grave of Natalie Hunt, or the mirror affected by the Mirror of Melancholy that was showing his grandmother.) When the magic arrow hit the glowing grave it "blew the whole thing apart." The same happened when it struck the mirror.

Other

Pretty acrobatic despite not training, flipping and cartwheeling across the graveyard to dodge the ghostly arms trying to grab him.

Alan Mido (Alan Todoroki)

Stigma

Incantation - Yagsal Olbalsa

Effect - ? "Seems to be an extremely dangerous ability" -B's Log

Seems to enhance his strength, as he punched Takeru's tulpa in half

Seems to make him uncontrollably violent, seeking to kill his enemies(looking for Takeru's tulpa's head and crushing his throat) and possibly reduces his awareness of his surroundings(light removed from the eyes of his sprite and panel art, grabbing and pulling the PC without realizing he was hurting her, continually attacking Takeru despite being aware he couldn't take him out with punching, only regaining his senses when Sho grabbed and spoke to him)?

Artifact

Lead pipe - ?

Leo Kurosagi

Stigma

Incantation - Haxs

Effect - super hearing.

Increases distance and precision of his hearing. Does not allow him to hear through anomalous soundproofing.

When enhanced increases distance further and allows him to hear through anomalous soundproofing.

Had the PC enhance it in order to find the escaping possessed guard during the prison riot. Uncertain if this allows him to hear ghosts or if he simply needed the increased precision due to the surrounding noise.

Makes Leo sensitive to sounds and noise even when it isn't active, resulting in noticing noises other people can't hear and frequent complaints when in noisy environments or around loud or high-pitched people.

Artifact

Bubble gum - can be manipulated into any shape when blown.

The longer it's chewed, the longer he can manipulate it

"So if I chewed this one a bunch and stuck it over your nose and mouth...

"...you'd suffocate. Bye bye Honor Roll."

suggests that it can't be removed until the time he's manipulated it runs out?

Cannot capture incorporeal targets.

Popping it can cause some form of damage, such as when he destroyed a Cyclops Eye in the staff room after covering it with the gum.

Shohei Haizono

Stigma

Incantation - Spurno

Effect - "just jams stuff"?????

Primarily seems to push things or result in change of direction, possibly able to cause sensory scrambling resulting in uncoordinated movement or temporary stunning(as with Takeru's tulpa?)

Leo says it can be used on incorporeal targets, but Sho says it can't take something down unless it's "super weak"

Used in Episode 2 to prevent Takeru's tulpa from walking straight

When enhanced in Episode 2, pushed Takeru's tulpa back with greater force, but didn't push him away, or cause him to release the PC(stunned him?)

Used in Episode 12 to remove the ghost of the prison guard possessing Alan and push the ghost into a cell to lock it there until it moved on

Artifact

Motorcycle - ?

Her name is Bonnie. She eats food placed in her fuel tank instead of gasoline, including chewing it and even burping. She's picky about what she eats. Her favorite food is barbecue sandwiches, but she also eats jerky.

If she isn't fed three times a day "she gets sulky and refuses to start." Her engine won't start at all if she's hungry.

She's described as a "large motorbike" by the PC's narration, and Subaru apologizes for the amount of space he's taking up on the wharf in Hotarubi to feed her, corroborating this.

She seems to have some control of her own movement as Sho rewards her for staying upright when stopped and made to buck by Luca's barrier.

Sho drives her just about everywhere and drives her around at Leo's request as well. She has a travel permit that needs to be shown when leaving and reentering campus, however she's able to break through the checkpoint with enough speed.

She's kept on her artifact chain when not ridden.

She's able to comfortably be ridden by two people but three is very tight.

Haru Sagara

Stigma

Incantation - Bahnti

Effect - reduces gravity's effects on his own body.

Reduced effect of gravity allows him to move extremely fast.

Makes his body much more fragile when used. Possibly includes weakening his immune system?

Artifact

Deck brush - ?

He rides around on it while distracting Otohime, skidding across the floor on the brush until he tips over.

Other

Right arm has been replaced with a prosthetic from Mio Susuhara after being broken by "Gen"(presumably Shion Genkai) which is currently damaged after he caught Ritsu's camera with it. Because of the current extent of the damage he was unable to perform labor tasks that require it.

Was an acrobat back in Dionysia, which explains his athleticism and flexibility and the like.

Towa Otonashi

Stigma

Incantation - ? (has an audio file, but the spelling hasn't been shown.)

Effect - Controls wind and weather(?)

Towa exhibits control over weather as his primary ability, and he confirms it's his stigma when the PC asks in Episode 12.

Others' understanding of Towa's stigma is only that he controls lightning and that other weather patterns are random, not in response to Towa's feelings.

The weather reacts to Towa's emotions, causing the sky to darken in preparation of rain, lightning, or snowstorms when he's angry.

Towa is also able to predict weather that he doesn't control.

Towa can create lightning(which he uses to electrocute enemies), rain, wind(used to create a pillar of water for the PC to land on when falling off the boat, a whirlwind for gathering ducks, and to direct the rain sideways to wash bubble soap off of Kaito), snow, and possibly earthquakes(the ground is noted to start shaking in response to his anger.)

He 'rides the wind' in order to jump high as though flying

Artifact

Bubble wand - blown bubbles cause explosions.

The explosions are powerful enough to destroy glass that withheld a full grown Kraken.

Towa warns not to touch the bubbles, as they will kill you.

Not all bubbles seem to cause explosions as he blows bubbles from atop the Capybus without there being any harm done.

Other

Towa's nature is implied to actually be quite malicious and uncaring, especially towards things that are weak and especially towards humans, however he claims he changed because of "love." Several home screen lines, his full awakening line, and his response to being touched by the turtle anomaly in the Dragon Palace support that he hasn't fully changed his mindset, only represses it.

Towa cannot speak during the daytime and is only able to talk when it's night. This includes being in Obscuary, where it's permanently night, however the cover of clouds doesn't allow him to speak during the day meaning it's not related specifically to the visibility of the sun. However this is drawn into question when the presence of the giant cat anomaly in Episode 12 casts a shadow over him, briefly allowing him to speak.

Can speak to and understand anomalies, even those that lack speech capabilities(such as the tree on the hill.) Haru is aware of this ability.

Able to see and hear ghosts(Zenji) and possibly other things that only people who are "special" can see(the tree on the hill, which even Ed cannot see.)

When Towa is away from Jabberwock for an extended period of time(in Episode 4 it happened after 24 hours) the nature conditions deteriorated significantly, with water drying up and the sky dark despite it being sunny the previous day and the anomalies beginning to behave violently. According to Ed, if Towa is away from Jabberwock for too long the anomalies within will begin to die. Ed suggests that Haru is unaware of this fact. In Episode 12, despite being away for 3 days, this doesn't appear to happen.

Anomalies fear him and obey him, particularly when he's angry, even to the point of kneeling out of fear when he's furious. Normal animals experience the same fear, freezing and behaving anxiously in his presence.

Says the PC smells nicer than before, perhaps able to smell their curse's advancement due to the flowers that would grow on her as a Kyklos.

Ren Shiranami

Stigma

Incantation - Raothtas

Effect - Cleans things?

B's Log: "According to him it seems to be a power with little use."

Has only been used to remove Calamari's ink from the floor when wiping it up failed.

Artifact

Swim ring - restrains target.

Cannot be removed by the wearer.

Has a rope attached that allows the wearer to be reeled in.

Cannot restrain incorporeal targets.

Taiga Hoshibami

Stigma

Incantation - Malab

Effect - ?

Artifact

Tommy gun - takes anything broken into small enough pieces and fired from it as ammo.

Damage type seems to vary based on what was placed into it. Shards of glass created a swirl of glass shards, whereas bronze from a statue shot heavier rounds.

Doesn't seem to require ammo to fire.

Doesn't seem to work on everything as Taiga says his bullets don't work on anything lately. Possibly limited to hostile entities? (He was able to shoot the Oblivion Dealer, but not able to shoot the Kyklos--which ran away--or the Barong--which was non-threatening.)

Other

Carries a knife and a pistol.

Appears to occasionally be aware of things that he has no way of knowing about, sometimes even seeming to know the future. Haru asks hin when several characters are returning, which suggests Haru is aware of this and occasionally asks him to predict outcomes.

Taiga asks Haru for a coin, saying he'll allow Haru to choose his desired outcome based on heads or tails. However it's uncertain if this means he can actually alter outcomes himself. His losing dialogue suggests that he attempts to, but doesn't always succeed.

Eats anomalies, though not exclusively, and gets hungry whenever he goes on a mission. His hunger for them results in varied behavior from minor irritation to nearly losing control of himself to the hunger. He can eat any physical anomaly thus far, being shown or referenced to eat anomalous animals, plants, objects, and "enzymes", and he finds anomalous plants and enzymes converted into beverages suitable for human consumption to taste unpleasant. He eats normal food and drinks normal alcohol without a problem. It's difficult to tell how he feels about and after eating anomalies, as it varies, although he enthusiastically expresses his desire to eat the Kyklos. It's hard to tell how new this behavior is as Romeo seems disgusted but not surprised by it and Taiga attempts to warns Romeo when he wants to eat the Barong mask(not in speech bubbles but able to be discerned in his audio.)

His hunger may be able to be triggered or increased by smelling or seeing anomalous blood(such as the PC's.)

His memory is very poor, although he can remember things and people with prompting.

Noted that, as he's not Haru, he can't jump up a building.

Romeo Scorpus Lucci

Stigma

Incantation - Tiris

Effect - "turns things into bombs".

Able to turn anything into a bomb, including non-explosive objects. Seems to require that he throws them?

The size of the blast depends on how attached to the target object its owner is. If Romeo truly values something he's blowing up, the explosion is quite destructive.

Hyde has him testing various types of prototype anomalous explosive materials for Darkwick on missions.

"To me, these prototypes are a path to catching anomalies in one piece." which implies most of Hyde's prototypes cause non-lethal explosions. One of his home screen lines mentions, for example, a tear bomb.

Artifact

Sniper rifle - bullets pursue targets until they're struck

Maintains his bullets himself.

Doesn't always carry the same types of rounds. For example, he only had smoke bombs in the prologue.

When used against the Arachne in Episode 9 it blasted a large hole into its head? However when he fired it to gain the attention of the audience and when he shot at the door in Episode 8 the impact didn't seem as great, suggesting the impact/size of his bullets varies as needed.

Other

Has the trust of Darkwick(or at least has Hyde's favor?) allowing him to carry around common artifacts as though he owns them(hammerspace briefcase which he added a custom case for; fox robe)

Implied to be missing his right leg or foot (likely having been replaced by a prosthetic like Haru's.) Kaito mentions that Romeo cannot run fast. He also shows noticeable pain and discomfort after being run into by Kaito.

Ritsu Shinjo

Stigma

Incantation - Acimo

Effect - hardens his body. Increases his weight.

The increased weight causes him to move more slowly while it's active.

Prevents damage from concussive attacks such as kicks and bullets. If you kick him while it's active it'll hurt you.

Doesn't seem to experience pain in this state.

Can survive explosions and escape from collapsed buildings unharmed, even to the point that his clothing isn't damaged or dirtied, suggesting that his stigma extends to his clothes.

Artifact

Compendium of Laws - ?

Has the contents memorized?

Taiga taught him to use it as a blunt weapon, although he forgot he did this.

Appears to glow somewhat when held, although what this suggests is unknown.

Subaru Kagami

Stigma

Incantation - Talnandio

Effects - psychometry.

Experiences memory fragments through almost anything he touches or that touches him.

Passive, activates on contact with people, animals, anomalies, and objects without incantation.

Using it exhausts him to the point of needing a significant amount of rest, possibly even passing out shortly after usage.

Wears gloves and avoids crowded places to try and avoid accidentally setting it off. Feels bad about being able to learn people's secrets.

Artifact

Parasol - ?

Sturdy enough to destroy a possessed doll.

Haku Kusanagi

Stigma

Incantation - ?

Effect - ?

Implied he prefers not using it?

Artifact

Flute - ?

Used flute to remove himself and the PC from Kisaragi Station, knocking them out with some sort of ethereal water and causing them to wake up back on the empty train car.

Other

Able to see and communicate with spirits.

Able to perform various rituals such as laying spirits to rest and making talismans that allow people close to a spirit to see and hear them.

"Cordoned off the area" of the train and station the PC was on, which should have prevented interference from civilians. May be part of his Artifact or Stigma, or part of his capabilities as a Shinto priest.

Performs the stigma test for Darkwick.

According to Taiga he's able to remove curses if the anomaly that caused the curse is in front of him. It's uncertain if this is his stigma, part of his artifact, or another power.

Haku has the trust of Darkwick, allowing him to easily get access to powerful common artifacts such as the skeleton key

Zenji Kotodama (Taro Kirisaki)

Stigma

Incantation - ?

Effect - ?

Artifact

Doll - ?

Heavily resembles his brother as a child, according to Zenji. When Zenji and the doll protected Jiro, Zenji said "You've always been there for him when he needed it most." suggesting that there may have been a third Kirisaki brother.

Won't let anyone but Zenji and Jiro touch it. Protects Zenji and Jiro.

Appearance slightly changes to that of an oni when angered.

Has a mind of its own, or is perhaps possessed. Wanders around campus without Zenji, much to his concern.

Able to damage and destroy ghosts?

Joined Zenji in protecting Jiro from being eaten by the Arachne and seemed to be fine after the Arachne was destroyed while it and Zenji were inside it. Attacked the Arachne from within (with Zenji?) to distract it with pain so Jiro could attack it.

Other

As a ghost, Zenji cannot be touched, meaning he can't be damaged or killed. However he covers his ears when Haku performs a ritual to lay spirits to rest and covers his face in Subaru's warding card with incense, suggesting that he would be laid to rest under the right circumstances.

Zenji is not bound to Darkwick despite being a ghost who died on campus, and can come and go as he pleases.

Darkwick is unaware Zenji is present as only Haku and Towa(and eventually Subaru and the PC) are aware Zenji's spirit lingers. If Darkwick were to become aware of Zenji's presence they would want him laid to rest.

Due to Obon, people in Japan are more sensitive to spirits and anomalies are more frequent, causing Zenji to sometimes be visible or audible during the summer.

Zenji brings his doll with him most everywhere, however people can only see the doll and not him. The same happens with his biwa. If he carries them, they appear to float.

Zenji is able to fly, although he normally sticks to walking.

Zenji can touch physical objects with sufficient practice(his doll, his biwa, and his phone) and his footsteps are audible if he doesn't silence them. When attempting to touch or even sit on something that he isn't accustomed to touching he simply goes through it. He can ride the Galaxy Express as well. Because one has to show their phone to the conductor cat to take the Galaxy Express, it's possible that the cats can see or hear him, but nonetheless they don't seem to report him.

Afraid of ghosts, possibly the dark, and maybe dead bodies. Seems to be afraid of 'scary' things in general.

Able to spawn clothes onto himself at will.

Edward Hart

Stigma

Incantation - ?

Effect - ?

Artifact

Cane - ?

Other

Edward is, or was historically, the world's strongest vampire, implying a great deal of hidden power. As he is 400+ years old, he knows a great deal about anomalies that Darkwick doesn't listen to for some reason. However being old has also made his body and mind much weaker. . .allegedly.

Ed has immense power, which we've only heard of him using on the singular mission he participated in. Using it he obliterated an anomaly and a building in such a way that Darkwick struggled to cover up(unlike Tohma's destruction which was able to be explained as poor maintenance and age) suggesting he more or less vaporized it. It's unknown if this is a vampire power or his stigma.

Ed is able to produce a purple mist that seems to be able to enthrall humans when inhaled(Rui and Lyca didn't need to hold their breaths when he used it but the PC did, suggesting it doesn't work on ghouls.) The PC mentions feeling "good", comfort, euphoria, her mind slowing down, light on her feet, and she began to think thoughts that aligned with what Ed wanted of her made and her body feel weaker. When she managed to fight against it and speak for herself Ed stopped producing the mist and she was able to recover quickly. When Ed used it on the humans in the mansion they experienced similar symptoms(feeling good and beginning to think they didn't need to call the police for help) but fell into sleep quickly unlike the PC. It is unclear whether or not this is his stigma or simply a vampire power.

Ed mentions on the home screen that there's a miasma in the garden of Obscuary that humans are susceptible to. He also mentions a miasma in the breeze during summer. It's uncertain if he's referencing the mist he produces, although it's unlikely in the second case as he mentions no desire to go outside.

If Rui touches him, the touched part will break off(at which point it can be reattached simply by pushing it back into place,) ache intensely for a time, or he will die temporarily.

As a vampire, Ed is immune to curses and is immortal. He claims that sunlight will eventually reduce him to ash and in the pre-prologue before jumping off of the balcony he implies that whatever is waiting for him at the bottom will be the death of him as well. One can become a vampire by drinking the blood of a vampire, and this will overwrite curses such as the Kyklos' curse. It's uncertain if this would overwrite Rui's reaper curse.

As a vampire, Ed is rapidly exhausted by sunlight. Sunlight won't kill him instantly, but it will cause him to collapse. He claims sunlight will turn him to ash eventually, and he cannot be outside in the sun without a parasol. If it's cloudy enough or he's in enough shade, Ed is able to be outside during the day. He's usually tired during the daytime, but still seems to sleep during the night.

Ed is physically and mentally weaker during summer months, but stronger during autumn and winter.

Ed primarily drinks tears, although he mentions that he does drink blood in his character story and on the home screen. He finds that human food doesn't taste like much of anything.

Ed is able to transform into a bat and fly around in that form. He doesn't seem to be able to speak in this form, only screeching and squeaking. Based on the campus chibis he may have bats as 'familiars' too.

Ed mentions that Lyca's soul is misshapen, however it's unclear if he can actually see his soul or if he was merely teasing him.

Ed cannot see the tree on the hill that Towa speaks to, but seems to be aware that something is there.

Rui Mizuki

Stigma

Incantation - ?

Effect - temporary relief of pain and discomfort

Incantation has only been said in his head.

It's unclear if blowing a kiss is required to activate it or if that's just for flair, but it did produce a gold smoke that applied to the hurt area.

Artifact

Scythe - allows Rui to conceal himself in darkness.

Rui admits to using his artifact to keep an eye on others on campus.

Other

Suffers from a 'Reaper Curse' which effectively makes him a reaper.

Cannot make skin contact with most living things without them instantly dying. This includes humans, animals, plants, and even mold! Sufficiently strong living things(such as Ed, a vampire) will not die instantly when touched, but most things are too weak to survive. On contact, the touched thing's life force is absorbed into Rui's body through his mouth as a sort of green smoke that emerges from them.

Absorbed life energy goes straight to his body, extending his life filling him with so much energy that it prevents him from sleeping. He keeps himself as busy as possible as a result of having so much energy to spare.

In the case of Ed the reaction we've seen in-game when he was touched was the touched limb popping off(resulting in a spray of blood.) On the home screen he mentions Ed simply dying temporarily on contact and Ed mentions places they accidentally touched aching nonstop. It's uncertain what other creatures are strong enough not to die right away and how they would be affected by contact.

Wears gloves, a turtleneck, and avoids crowded places to avoid committing manslaughter and killing anything he touches.

Lyca Colt

Stigma

Incantation - Ramsochisa

Effect - allows him to follow any scent he's smelled before.

Artifact

Claws - ?

Other

Half werewolf. Able to show or hide his wolf tail and ears at will, but they pop up when he's sufficiently aggravated.

Transforms with exposure to the full moon. "The speed of his transformation is affected by how much he's exposed to moonlight and his mental state." Sometimes feels his skin crawling when the full moon is near?

Covering his head when he's outside under the full moon prevents or regresses his transformation. Collapses after his transformation regresses from half wolf and doesn't transform while unconscious. Nothing happens to him if he's not exposed to the full moon on a full moon night. Obscuary is always a crescent moon, allowing him to be there safely during a full moon.

Werewolves have four stages: Human, partial wolf, half wolf, and full wolf. At 'half wolf' Lyca is an anthropomorphic wolf. However, he loses control of himself after he's been transformed for a while, and may attack indiscriminately.

He doesn't remember much when he transforms. He might remember less if he fully transforms?

Yuri Isami

Stigma

Incantation - Agnihaet

Effect - "hyperstimulates his braincells"

"allows him to logically process information and solve complex equations almost instantaneously."

when enhanced seemed to make the information processing instantaneous and extremely accurate?

Artifact

Syringe - ?

Was used on Jiro before he fought the Immortal Inpatient. However because the reflected damage is because of Jiro's stigma it's hard to say what exactly the effect of Yuri's syringe is.

Other

Immune to Jiro's stigma for unknown reasons, allowing him to treat Jiro without taking damage.

Jiro Kirisaki

Stigma

Incantation - ?

Effect - Reflects any damage sustained back onto the one who dealt the damage

Activates automatically and involuntarily in response to sustained damage, without use of an incantation.

Anything that is injected into him will also be injected into the person who injected it into him. The same with someone trying to poison him. If someone tries to open him with a scalpel they'll also be cut open.

Does not work on Yuri for some reason, which is why Yuri is the only one who can treat him.

Artifact

Chainsaw - ?

Blunt, making it a bad match for webs(which simply got stuck in it) and things that need sharpness for effective cutting, but able to 'cut' through more solid things that don't require sharpness or precision, presumably by just crushing them with the rapidly spinning dull blades.

Other

Jiro is noted to be especially strong.

Jiro was in a coma from Eternal Slumber Syndrome until an undisclosed time ago, when Yuri was able to awaken him from it. When he was comatose and for how long and why hasn't been relayed yet, however he was said to be particularly violent during The Clash, meaning he was likely awakened before or during it, or fell into a coma during/shortly after it.

As a side effect of his condition and mysterious illness, Jiro has a poor memory, immunodeficiency, and his wounds reopen very easily. He occasionally has focal seizures.

Jiro needs four treatments a day, and they take around an hour to complete. Yuri is the only one who can administer them, and Jiro isn't able to do so himself. Even with his treatments he's forgetful and prone to being sick and has a bit of a fragile constitution. Abrupt changes in temperature, for example, make him choke.

Jiro doesn't react much to his wounds and being in pain, but he will eventually collapse from overexertion or illness if he misses a treatment or has taken too much damage.

#tokyo debunker #i was gonna tag everyone but i got too tired lol #danie yells at tokyo debunker #tdb ref #maybe someday i'll edit it to include sources for everything and maybe screenshots #but probably not because that's a lot #okay it's past my bedtime and i have dailies to do so #good night lmao #i'm sure i've missed stuff because i didn't do a lot of going back to double check lol #but this should be everything we know so far from the english translation and maybe some of the japanese #we didn't really get an explanation for how the pc's enhancement worked on yuri because the guy just kinda got brainblasted and figured out #what to do immediately so i just kinda guessed #take note of question marks because that's where i'm not certain i guess lol #okay time for dailies and bedtime #hope we learn more about the missing info soon

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 months ago

Note

tbh I don't know why everyone is so surprised that Riddle didn't pick Trey to be his Vice. I always thought that idea was contradictory to the version of Riddle that we see leading up to his overblot.

[You can see my thoughts on the book 7 chapter 12 part 2 update here!]

To quickly explain for those who don’t know: the recent update informed us that Trey was voted by his dormitory peers into the vice dorm leader position. He was not, in fact, hand selected by the newly appointed dorm leader Riddle.

I don’t really blame people for being surprised. Based on the presentation of Riddle and Trey in book 1 and what we knew prior about how vice dorm leaders are picked, the lore we learn in book 7 almost feels like it’s trying to convince us of another narrative historical revisionism, ayo/j. Let me try to explain what I mean.

Firstly, we have to remember that we spent a lot of book 1 with Trey, not with Riddle. We had lunch with Trey, we made a chestnut tart with Trey, we confronted Trey in the library, and we fought OB Riddle with Trey. We also see the camera cutting away to multiple instances of Trey trying to smooth things over with Riddle. And Trey is the one with warmth and fondness for his relationship with Riddle. Because we spend all this time with Trey (who is still attached to Riddle) versus Riddle (who is supposedly distant and detached), we get the impression that the two are closer than they truly are prior to Riddle’s OB. This impression is further strengthened by the presence of Chenya, another friend who paints their shared childhood in a largely positive light.

If you pay attention to how Riddle speaks to Trey throughout book 1 (pre-OB), Riddle does not speak warmly at all. He is usually speaking from the position of a ruler to his second-in-command and much of his dialogue with Trey is him commanding Trey to do X or Y. There’s no reminiscing about old times, no Riddle lording their childhood friendship to guilt Trey into falling in line, no leniency with Trey, nothing that would imply a connection beyond a professional one. Riddle basically treats Trey the same as Cater, his other third year minion at the time—and Riddle isn’t close with Cater at all. The one major exception I would say is right before Riddle OBs, in which he demands if Trey is also betraying him. Again, because we have spent so much time with Trey, we see Riddle from his perspective. We are more likely to view Riddle’s demand as him being hurt that his childhood friend is turning on him versus viewing Riddle’s demand as being hurt that his right-hand man who has been following his orders right up until now refuses to obey.

Really, it feels like less of an issue of fans not picking up on Riddle and Trey being alienated in early book 1 and more of an issue of how book 1 is framed. So much of it is colored by Trey’s (ironically) rose-colored lenses, so we as the viewers who are exposed to it are far more likely to see their friendship as persisting and Riddle having a soft spot for Trey as well. (Riddle is more patient later in the main story too, Granted that book 1 was so long ago, fans may remember the more patient and empathetic post-book 1 Riddle and may judge him based on that metric rather than the book 1 metric.)

Another major aspect as to why people are surprised that Riddle didn’t personally pick Trey as his vice dorm leader is because we literally didn’t know about any other methods to become vice dorm leader??? 😭 Like. I’m pretty sure that the only method we knew of before was to be picked by the dorm leader. I guess people noticed Riddle and Trey were childhood friends and assumed Riddle picked Trey because of familiarity? This is also the case with several other dorm leader/vice dorm leader duos, so this conclusion isn’t based on nothing.

Trey doesn’t strike a lot of us as a particularly… ambitious person?? He often expresses that he doesn’t like getting involved in conflicts or when people cause problems for him, which would be common occurrences for someone in a position of power like the vice dorm leader seat. You’d think Trey would actively want to avoid those responsibilities. Most of us probably didn’t think he would accept the position of vice dorm leader unless the person picking him for it is someone he cares about and/or feels like he has to support—which Riddle is. A ton of his behaviors in book 1 supports this, from doing Riddle’s dirty work and sharing that he harbors guilt over the past + struggles to speak against Riddle because of that.

Book 7 tells us what was technically true of Riddle’s perspective and treatment of Trey early in book 1. We just failed to see it before because of the lack of information and overwhelming bias at the time.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #book 1 spoilers #Riddle Rosehearts #Trey Clover #Cater Diamond #Chenya #Che’nya #notes from the writing raven #book 7 chapter 12 part 2 spoilers #jp spoilers

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bellaxgiornata · 9 months ago

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Seeking Forgiveness [Part Nine]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader, mentions/fear of miscarriage

a/n: Long time no update, I know. I was stalled with this fic because it wasn't supposed to be long, but then it grew into something bigger and needed a new direction and it took me a bit to figure that out. Now I think I've found it. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Matt’s fingers slowly ran over the braille document on the table before himself, his mind struggling to focus on the work he was supposed to be accomplishing right now. He'd promised Fog yesterday at the office that he'd help him sift through some more information for a case they'd been working on first thing in the morning, but his mind just couldn't stay on task. Repeatedly he'd had to run his fingers over the letters just to get a couple of them to form words in his mind, but then in mere seconds he'd forgotten what he'd just read.

But how could he focus on work right now with what he was doing later today? The only thing he could think about since the moment he’d woken up and shuffled out of his bedroom this morning was you. Because today was Saturday. It was the day you’d agreed to meet with him for that coffee where you’d planned to have an important conversation with him. And as much as Matt had tried not to let himself hope for too much to come from this talk, he couldn't stop that hope from growing inside of himself. It had been steadily growing brighter and brighter ever since you’d first agreed to meet the other night.

As his fingers traced the braille letters of the same line on the page yet again, Matt could feel the weight of Foggy’s eyes on him from across his kitchen table. He could tell Foggy had begun to notice his behavior, his increasing annoyance becoming apparent in the way his fingers had been steadily tapping faster against the table in less of an absent fidget and more of an agitated rhythm.

Once more Matt tried to read the line again, retracing his fingers over it as he leaned further over the document, as if getting closer to it would somehow help him to concentrate. But then he found his mind once more diverting from its task, instead thinking of himself sitting with you over coffee in only a matter of hours. Because soon he'd actually be talking to you, hearing your voice again, possibly even the sound of your laughter that he so sorely missed. And if he was lucky, maybe you'd let him hold you in his arms again, even if it was just to say goodbye.

“Alright,” Foggy said in exasperation, slumping back in his chair. “What is it that's got you so distracted? Because I've been here for almost a half an hour now and you haven't even read the page that's been sitting in front of you for just as long. Is it some Daredevil thing that's on your mind? Because buddy, that can wait until later tonight. We have actual legal work to accomplish right now.”

Matt released a defeated sigh, sitting back in his chair and pushing the document away from himself as his attention shifted over to Foggy. He felt guilty for not being able to focus on work–a problem he'd truly struggled with for far longer than just this morning if he was being honest. Ever since he'd learned you were pregnant his mind was often elsewhere.

“It’s nothing to do with that. It's just–I'm meeting with her this morning. To talk over coffee,” Matt told him.

Foggy suddenly sat up straight in his chair, the annoyance in his body language immediately disappearing. He said your name in question, the tone of it hopeful.

“Yeah,” Matt acknowledged with a nod. “She agreed to talk and that's all I can focus on. I'm sorry, Fog. I just–just can't think about anything else because I don't want to mess this up with her. I doubt she'll give me another chance to sit down with her.”

“I don't know man,” Foggy disagreed. “I think she wants things to work between you both. From what I hear, it sounds like she's just scared.”

Matt pulled a face, his head canting to the side. “Scared?” he repeated. “Scared of what?”

“Of things not working out between you both,” Foggy answered. “I think you both really want the same things. And from what I’ve heard, I think she’s scared you might hurt her again.”

Matt frowned as he shifted his attention away from Foggy, his right hand reaching up to messily run through his hair. He wasn't certain of the truth in everything Foggy had just said. Matt had a feeling that he wanted far more from you than you wanted from him. And that scared him . But he absolutely refused to ever be in a situation to let you down again. He’d learned from his mistake–he would never break a promise to you again.

“So what exactly are you both planning to talk about this morning?” Foggy questioned. “Just the baby? Or…is there talk about you two getting back together?”

Matt's hand ran another pass through his hair in nervous frustration. Of course that's one of the things he’d wanted to discuss with you, but he was certain that particular topic wasn't even on the agenda for this morning. It probably wasn’t even remotely on your mind. It didn’t matter if you’d asked him to hold you in your bed the other night after the scare you’d had because he’d known exactly what that had meant. He was just happy that at the very least, you found his presence comforting still.

“I think we're just talking about me being more involved with the baby,” he answered. “That’s all the talk is about. And don't get me wrong, I'm happy we're even discussing that after the mess I made of things over the past few months. Because I do want to be more involved in things with her and our daughter even if she hasn’t been born yet. But I…”

Matt trailed off, the frown deepening on his lips as his focus dropped down towards the table. He heard Foggy lean forward, resting his elbows along the surface of it as his pulse accelerated in anticipation.

“But what?” he pushed.

Licking his lips nervously, Matt's eyes slowly closed. “I want more,” he admitted aloud. “And I know after how I messed things up that I don't deserve it with her. She's far too good for me, Fog. I get it. But I still want it.”

“Want what, exactly?” he asked. “The relationship?”

“Yes,” Matt answered immediately. “And I still want her to move in with me like we had been planning before everything fell apart and she found out she was pregnant,” Matt confessed, finally bearing his heart to Foggy. “I want her here . I want to set up the crib in our room that’ll be our daughter’s bed. I want them all in that room,” Matt said, gesturing behind Foggy to his bedroom, “where I can sleep next to both of them every single night. Knowing they're both safe with me. And I want to make space in the closet and the dresser for both of their things. I want to accidentally pull out baby pajamas instead of a tie in the mornings.” A sad smile tugged at Matt’s lips as he imagined everything in his mind while he spoke. “I want her to keep that growing stockpile of diaper boxes in her apartment right over there,” he continued, gesturing a hand towards the closet past his couch where he kept his Daredevil suit. “And I want to wake up and make coffee to the sound of a baby babbling.”

Tears were beginning to sting at Matt’s eyes as a flood of emotion began to well inside of him. He'd never realized quite how much he had been wanting until he’d suddenly given voice to it.

“I just want her to be here so that I can make her breakfast in the morning and dinner in the evening,” he continued softly. “I want her here so I can rub her back when she's throwing up or her feet when they're sore after work. I just–”

He paused, wincing. He found himself wanting so much that he never realized he'd even wanted until you had come into his life. But how would he ever be able to have any of that? After how he'd ended things with you and walked out on you when you'd begged him to stay? How did he get you to still move in with him? Let him be a part of your life again? Trust him again?

“I just want it all,” he whispered, fighting back the burn of tears. “But that's not what this talk is about today, and I understand that.”

“You could still tell her,” Foggy suggested gently. “You could still let her know how you feel, Matt. Be open with her about your feelings.”

Matt shook his head, his heart feeling leaden in his chest. “No,” he told him. “I think that's the last thing she wants to hear right now. I can't push my luck, Fog. Maybe someday I can tell her all of that, but I don't think today is that day.”

“I don't know, man,” Foggy countered.

“I can't ask for too much when I don't deserve it,” Matt said. “She needs to know I'm serious first, so that's my focus. I'll take whatever she gives me and show her that I mean it when I say I want to be a part of things. That I’ll really be there when she needs me.”

“For the record, I don’t exactly agree with that route,” Foggy told him. “But if you think telling her how you feel will somehow push her away instead of bring her closer, then I’m not about to argue because you’re obviously not going to listen. I’m just happy to hear that you’re both sitting down together to talk finally. We’re all rooting for the both of you to figure this all out, Matt.”

Matt’s attention focused on Foggy across the table from him. He heard the truth in his words with how steady his heartbeat had been. It felt good to know at least his friends believed in him. But he knew it would feel amazing to finally have you believe in him again, too.

You didn’t have to search hard to find Matt. He’d sent you a text when you’d left your apartment and made your way to the coffee shop letting you know that he’d already arrived early and grabbed a table. And now there he was, sitting in a corner booth with a coffee in front of himself and another across the table from him. A wave of nerves hit you at the sight of him in his dark jeans and snug-fitting gray shirt, your stomach twisting anxiously as the reality of sitting down with him actually hit you. It had been so long since you’d both really sat down together to talk; the only other time had been earlier this week on the night he’d shown up at your apartment because he’d heard your panic. But that had been under entirely different circumstances than this.

Matt’s head instantly spun in your direction as the door to the shop shut behind you. You figured he’d probably picked up on your strong reaction to seeing him, and that only increased the nerves running loose in your stomach. Beginning to make your way over towards the corner booth where he sat, his covered gaze focused on you, you chewed your bottom lip while awkwardly maneuvering your small bump between the tables and chairs. Briefly you were reminded of your third date at this very coffee shop with Matt. The memory of it had you longing to be able to slide into the booth beside him and wrap your arms around him now, desperate for some of his strength to transfer to you.

“Hey, Matt,” you greeted lightly, slowly sliding into the bench across from him. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long on me.”

A timid smile spread over his lips as he shook his head. “Not at all. Though I already ordered you a coffee.” His hand gestured to the cup now in front of you. “Vanilla latte, iced. I hope that’s okay. If not, I can grab you something else.”

“No,” you said, a nervous smile forming on your own lips as you shook your head, getting comfortable in the booth. “It’s perfect, actually. Thank you. I’ve been on an iced vanilla latte kick for weeks now.”

The smile on Matt’s mouth turned sheepish as you reached out and picked up the ice cold cup. You drank down a sip of the coffee, reveling in how good it tasted as you watched Matt’s hand awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck.

“So I’ve heard,” he said. “Karen mentioned that the other day actually. I figured it would be a safe bet.”

“Oh,” you said. “That makes sense then.”

Lowering the cup back to the table, you shifted anxiously in your seat. Normally things had never been this tense between you and Matt, but you weren’t certain how to navigate whatever the pair of you were now. You weren’t entirely sure how to just be around him anymore, especially not while currently carrying his child.

“So how’re things at the office?” you asked him.

“Good,” Matt answered. “Busy. There’s a handful of cases that we’re working on and I think we’re all realizing we may have overextended ourselves, but we’ll figure it out.”

You nodded, your finger toying with the condensation on the outside of your plastic cup. “That’s good. How’s uh–” you paused, not certain you were allowed to be asking him something so personal, but the question had already started to come out before you could stop it, “–how’re things going at night? With, well, you know…?”

Matt sent you a small smile, his covered gaze focused on you from across the table. Your eyes dropped back down to your coffee cup, your heart beating a little harder. You forgot the effect he had on you, but with him sitting right there after months apart, you couldn’t entirely ignore it now.

You missed him.

“Also good,” he answered. “Not quite so busy, but still…busy.”

“Right,” you muttered awkwardly.

How the hell were you supposed to talk about the baby growing inside of you when you could barely look at him to discuss normal pleasantries? It felt so wrong being so awkward with him as you sat across the table. You found yourself struggling with this meeting more than you’d anticipated, wishing things just felt like they used to be between you both.

“How’re you doing?” Matt asked softly.

The gentle tone had caught you off guard, your gaze flitting back up towards his face. He looked just as nervous as you felt. And Matthew Murdock didn’t generally get nervous.

“Do you want the polite response I usually give people?” you half-joked. “Or do you want the honest answer to that question?”

“The honest one,” he replied.

“Well,” you began, your gaze dropping back down to your coffee cup, “I’m tired all the time. I’ve probably finally reached your level of tired.”

You paused, smiling down at your cup when you heard him laugh lightly across the table from you. The sound had a warm, pleasant sensation gradually settling in your stomach.

“I almost always have a headache I can never seem to get rid of,” you continued. “I’m guessing that’s something to do with the hormones and increased blood flow. And I feel like my lower back has a personal vendetta against me as of late.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, amusement in his tone. “How’s the nausea?”

You shrugged a shoulder, your eyes once more returning to his face. Internally you cursed him for being so handsome. It only made you long to grab him and kiss him like you used to be able to. Clearing your throat, you tried to ignore that thought.

“Better,” you answered. “Not magically gone like I somehow assumed it would be once I got out of the first trimester, but I don’t want to vomit all the time. Though uh–”

You paused as a grin spread over your mouth, noticing how it was quickly mirrored on Matt’s face as his head tilted curiously to the side. That flutter of warmth in your stomach felt like it was steadily heating you from the inside at the sight of it.

“What?” he pressed curiously.

“So when you’re pregnant,” you began, the grin remaining on your lips, “your sense of smell heightens. Also because of the hormones, I assume. But I’d wanted to tell you about that little symptom the moment I started experiencing it because I figured if anyone else would understand how gross passing a dumpster smells, it’d be you.”

“You’re certainly not wrong,” he agreed with a chuckle.

“And that symptom hasn’t exactly disappeared yet,” you told him, your grin having grown into a smile. “So some things still make me want to puke. Particularly the smell of bell peppers for some unknown reason.”

“Duly noted. I’ll make sure not to bring any near you,” Matt teased. “But I’ve read that ginger helps–”

You raised a hand, cutting him off and shaking your head as you pulled a face. Matt’s brows furrowed beneath his dark lenses, his mouth suddenly closing.

“Sorry,” you said, your stomach churning. “It’s just that I tried using those hard candies they make for morning sickness so much that the ‘g’ word now makes me immediately want to puke. They’ve had the reverse effect on me.”

“Oh,” he breathed out, the smile falling from his lips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“That’s alright,” you assured him, picking up the cup of coffee from in front of you again. “I didn’t expect you to.”

That uncomfortable, awkward silence fell over the pair of you again. You took a sip from your cup, watching as Matt’s left hand on the table began anxiously tapping along it. Swallowing down your drink, you supposed you should probably discuss the real reason you were both here.

“So uh,” you began, clearing your throat as you set the coffee cup back onto the table, “we should probably talk about the baby.”

Matt nodded, a tense smile now drawing itself across his lips. As if he was nervous about this topic of conversation.

“You were saying the other night that you wanted to be more involved?” you asked.

“Yes,” he answered earnestly. “If that’s alright with you, of course. I know she’s not exactly here yet, but I’d like to be as a part of things as I can be.”

Eyes dropping back down to your coffee cup, your index finger smeared a drop of condensation along the side of it. There was a heaviness in the air between you both, one you didn’t need Matt’s senses to detect.

“How involved?” you asked softly. “You want updates if something is going on or…do you want to actually attend appointments with me?”

Matt perked up in the booth across from you, the movement drawing your attention back over to him. He was sitting a little straighter now, something hopeful written across the features of his face even with his glasses on.

“Would that be alright?” he asked. “If I wanted to go to some of your appointments with you?”

“I suppose so,” you answered slowly. “But I don’t know how interesting they’d be for you. Unlike the rest of us, you don’t need technology to hear her heartbeat. I’m assuming you’ve already been listening to her since I got here.”

Another sheepish smile slipped onto his lips. “You wouldn’t be wrong,” he admitted. “I’ve grown quite fond of the sound of her heartbeat. Especially hearing it beating so close to your own.”

A flush crept up your neck, your gaze dropping back down to your coffee as one hand nervously began spinning your cup on the table. You hadn’t expected him to tell you that, or for how it made you feel.

“I have an appointment in a couple of weeks,” you told him, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks. “I can let you know the details when it gets closer if you’d like to come with me.”

“I’d like that,” he replied. “A lot, actually.”

Nervously gnawing on your bottom lip, your gaze still averted from him, you weren’t sure how to broach the next thing you’d considered bringing up. Matt had wanted to be more involved, but how much more did he truly mean?

“So you also said that you wanted to be around when I didn’t necessarily need you,” you began carefully, your eyes slowly drawing back up to his face. “What’d you mean by that exactly?”

You saw the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his finger tapping faster atop the table. His other hand reached up to readjust his glasses along the bridge of his nose before he spoke.

“I know we’re not together,” he answered slowly, “but I’d like to spend time together. With both of you. If that’s okay? Not–not all the time. Like I said, I know we’re not together and I’m not going to delude myself into thinking things are other than what they are right now. But I’d like to help you out if I could. Cooking or cleaning occasionally so you can just rest. Grabbing groceries if you need. Anything like that.”

“You…really want that?” you asked, eyes narrowing curiously. “Especially with how busy you are?”

“I want to help,” he assured you.

You nodded slowly, aware that having him around you more often would only make you miss him more. But if things were ever going to progress back to how they once were between you two, you figured this was a good first step to reaching that.

“Okay,” you whispered.

His dark brows jumped up onto his forehead in surprise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you answered. “If we’re going to figure this parenting thing out together, I suppose we should start figuring it out before she’s born. Right? It only makes sense.”

A broad smile broke out across Matt’s face immediately. The sight of it nearly blinded you with how happy he’d suddenly looked.

“You mean that?” he asked. “About doing this together–raising her together? Do you really mean that?”

“With how much you clearly seem to want to be a part of this,” you told him, “it seems cruel not to try to see if things can work out. So yeah. I think we should focus on taking small steps towards that and see if things can actually work out eventually so we aren’t just…co-parenting.”

There was a faint tremble to his lips that you’d just barely caught despite that beaming smile on his face. The sight instantly reminded you of the other night when he’d asked for permission to feel your baby bump. He’d gotten so emotional the moment he’d felt your daughter move and experiencing that with him had felt special in a way that you couldn’t exactly describe. You just knew that after that moment, you didn’t want to keep any more of those experiences from him. Not if he was truly going to give you and your daughter all of himself.

“Plus, I could use help thinking of a name,” you added with a small smile. “She’s not just mine, after all.”

Matt sniffled softly, his lips still faintly trembling. He almost seemed to be on the verge of crying, and you wondered if he wasn’t wearing the glasses right now, if you’d have seen his eyes rimmed in red and filled with tears.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his hand sliding across the table towards you. “For giving me this chance despite everything.”

Your eyes dropped down to his outstretched hand, studying it for a moment. You knew what that hand meant beyond the obvious gesture. Hesitantly your right hand released your coffee cup and slowly slid across the table towards Matt’s. Carefully you wrapped your fingers around his, your heart beating a little faster when his gripped yours in return.

“She deserves both of us,” you whispered. “As long as we can find a way to make this work.”

Tag List: @mattmurdocksstarlight @just-going-through-the-motions @paracosmic-murdock @yeonalie @auroraslibrary @1988-fiend @will-delete-this-later-probably @two-unbeatable-beaters @danzer8705 @ragamuffin285 @callmebrooklynbabes @spookyboogyuniverse @peachy-aisha @stevenknightmarc @nerdytreeflower @fucktthisworld @remuslupinwifee @kmc1989 @thychuvaluswife @mywellspringoflife @thornbushrose @yarrystyleeza @shiorimakibawrites @marvelcinematiquniverse @vallovesthedilfs @scoliobean @this-is-music @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @swissy23 @babygorewhore @that-girl-named-alex @warsaur @lareinaisabelle @pazii @senjoritanana @mischiefmanaged71511-blog @xxdrixx @jess-rye @hannahbohen @theclassicvinyldragon @karolamurdock @theoraekenslover @mr-underhills-things @jennifer0305 @capswife @amazexng @blackhawkfanatic @ladywholikesreading @powellssaturn @sunflower-tia @indestructeible @allllium @gamingfeline @kezibear @vallovesthedilfs @the-skys-musical-echo @justanerd1 @better305 @n3versatisfied @scriptedmoon @loves0phelia @roxytheimmortal

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock #matt murdock x you #daredevil

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alistarascendance · 1 year ago

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❝𝐈 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨, 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧—𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧?❞

— in which, fabled legend Alistar returns from the Chasm decades after their descent, only to find themself faced with an issue: humanity, in their absence, has created a world of suffering, dilapidated by greed, and Alistar’s presence only continues to fuel their selfishness, as a living legend must kill… or be killed.

Alistar: Ascendance is a cyberpunk, dystopian romance interactive fiction that was originally intended to simply be a story, before its writer (me) decided to be impulsive and turn it into an IF.

DISCLAIMERS

this story will contain depictions of alcohol, smoking, blood, violence, profanity, mild gore, yandere behavior, toxic relationships, suggestive themes, discrimination, self-hatred, mentions of emotional and physical abuse, suicidal thoughts, an oppressive government, fictional languages and religions, real world philosophies/religions including but not limited to: cynicism, nihilism and atheism; a corrupt world, discussion of morals and human conscience, as well as other mature themes. this list will be updated as the story is written.

please keep all of this in mind while reading!

A gender-selectable MC, who you choose the name, personality, sexuality, appearance, and morals of.

A wide variety of choices to choose from that will impact your story, and the need to keep your MC sane (or just go batshit insane. That works, too).

5 male love interests + 1 secret RO, all of whom you can maintain a simply platonic relationship with if you wish, or you can just continue to flirt with them endlessly (+ a FWB relationship for some).

An enriching world and story, set in a cyberpunk dystopia (we know all of you are here for the romance though).

A powerful MC 😔😔

ROs (romance options, also referred to as LIs or love interests).

THE SURFACE DWELLER:

Seven. 21, Chaotic Good. Mechanic.

“The HIVE needs to fall. There are no exceptions—not even for you.”

The first person you meet once you arrive on the Surface, you and Seven have a unique bond. He’s got a reputation in the slums and Neon for being great at parties, but his friendliness can easily be read as something more.

Is it something more? Further observations will have to be made…

THE SURVIVOR

Saturn. 23, Lawful Evil. Bartender.

“Keep your head down, and you’ll survive.”

The quiet bartender has a curious perspective on things. He seems to have no problem with the HIVE members patrolling his bar, even serving them drinks like they’re normal customers, despite their heavy armor and edges that are too sharp to be humane.

He also doesn’t seem to be particularly interested in you in the slightest. Why’s that?

THE DIPLOMAT

“Is it better to live in quiet solitude, your voice stripped and taken—or would you rather have died, knowing your voice was the loudest amongst them all?”

Chain. 23, alignment unclear. Current occupation unknown.

He’s someone to keep an eye out for. While he hasn’t practiced his craft in years, he may still prove to be dangerous. Just as friendly as Seven, but far more difficult to truly befriend.

Obtain new information as soon as possible…

THE PUPPET

Judge me if you must. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m up here, and you’re down there.

Orion. 25, Lawful Neutral. HIVE operative.

The HIVE member patrolling Saturn’s bar. Part of something greater than he is, but he’s a part of it, regardless. Keep him around…

OTHER ENTITIES

Argos: Neutral Good. Age unknown. The deity whose spear you brandished, after his passing. He was a good man, but the fact only makes your sins rest heavier in your heart.

Teacher: True Neutral. Around ~200 years old. The chasm-dwelling shadow who taught you all you know of the Chasm and its residents.

Alistar: alignment unknown. Around ~200 years old. That’s you! You’re Alistar. At least, that’s what the world has been calling you ever since you ended the war and revitalized humanity, so that is what you will be referred to as throughout the entirety of the story. However, if you’d like to change your name (as Alistar is the default) you may!

As I am primarily an author (as in I literally have done nothing else with my life) I am new to coding (I took ONE coding club in fourth grade) and am trying to write out and perfect a chapter before converting it into typical IF form.

Once I manage to get things situated, I’ll started to code. I’m currently almost done writing chapter 4, so I’ll start working on coding once I finish it.

If anyone wants to read the chapters I’ve written until now, just shoot me an ask or message :)) I’d be happy to show you. otherwise, here are the ones I’ve posted so far:

CHAPTERS

CHAPTER ONE: COURTING DEATH CHAPTER TWO: THOSE WHO REMAIN CHAPTER THREE: TARNISHED DREAMS

asked to be tagged for new chapters!

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the7thhorcrux · 3 months ago

Note

Hello! This might be a common theme among Snape fics but…

What do you think about Severus and reader being good friends in school and slowly grow further apart due to his Death Eater status. That is, until they see each other again later in their adult years and maybe dormant affections rekindle?

severus snape, ❝ i missed you. ❞

i just might have an idea for an eventual part two-

༺☆༻

You tried. You really did! But no matter how hard you tried to keep in touch, it wouldn't matter. Because friendship should go both ways. And even though Severus clearly cared for you, you two eventually... drifted apart. You have to admit that you didn't treat his meetings with other Death Eaters seriously at first. But who can blame you? His constant excuses were made to make you think it's nothing serious. "we're just going there to talk" or "they are my friends too, so i need to help them when they need me" were one of the many things you'd hear in your teenage years still at school. But once you both graduated and his 'friend group' turned out to be officially well known literal cult (!), you did set the boundary there. Long talks turned into brief conversations, those into writing letters, until finally Severus stopped replying to those that you had sent. You suspected he didn't even read them at all. Why would he? All you knew was the rumors of what the Death Eaters were doing now and apparently how far they were willing to go to prove their point. You were not only angry but also disappointed. In him, but also in yourself for not reacting sooner, when maybe there still was a chance to stop him. Prevent any of this from happening. Especially now, that the Dark Lord was back.

༺☆༻

You sat at the table, drumming your fingers against the wooden surface as Molly set down a warm cup of tea in front of you. With a small nod and a smile you took a sip. The Order members were still on their way here, as you were informed. It was rather spontaneous - bringing you here to help them. After your contact with Severus died down you decided to focus on your studies, mastering your abilities. And now, your connections and knowledge could be useful to help the Order and many other people. After all, if Albus Dumbledore himself asks for your assistance, then it's probably important. So here you are now. Sitting at the table at Grimmauld Place 12, chatting with Sirius and Molly, drinking tea as they tried to update you on what they got so far. You looked down at the newspaper Arthur brought in, focusing on it briefly as everyone walked into the room where the meeting was supposed to take place in. So many old and new faces you could see again. It should bring you joy, maybe even a sense of comfort. To see old friends again. Yet your heart stopped for a moment as Severus sat down at the end of the table, avoiding your gaze. You looked away, not sure what to do. Smile? Wave? it was confusing, so you decided to focus on more important matters at the moment.

After the meeting (and rather heated argument in between Severus and Sirius, that briefly made you realise how not as much they both had changed) you stood up, looking as the room to cleared. before you could even do anything you saw Severus was already gone. Even though you could've sworn he was right next to you just a moment before.

It was only two meetings later that Severus finally pulled you to the side on your way out of the building.

"Sev!" you blinked, not expecting him to actually initiate any contact with you, and definitely not like that. He muttered your name quietly and you had a feeling he said it out loud for the first time in years.

"I need to talk to you. Just for a minute," he explained. The tone of his voice betrayed how uncomfortable he actually felt at the moment - something you haven't seen in years. he must’ve noticed that too, because he relaxed slightly shortly after you nodded.

"i had no idea you belong to the Order." you said, awkwardly folding your arms on your chest.

"i, as well, was not informed you do too now." he responded, his voice a bit lower this time and tone much colder than he intended.

"is that a problem?" you frowned, asking defensively. "i know you probably didn't wanted to talk to me, but i don't think that our past should have any negative effect on the Order's efficiency-“

“what are you taking about?” he stopped your rambling and frowned.

“you’re not going to ask me to not talk to you outside of the Order meetings?” you asked, also frowning in confusion.

“Merlin, of course not,” he shook his head, visibly frustrated and maybe even annoyed. “i wanted to…” he paused. right. what did he wanted? “i suppose i wanted to say… that I’m sorry.” he muttered.

“you suppose?” you shook your head. “you decided to completely throw away our friendship and for what? to just come back years later? as if nothing happened?” you said, even though your tone betrayed that there was no real anger behind those words; just regret that so many years were wasted.

“that’s my fault. for pushing you away.” he admitted reluctantly. “and i apologize for it.”

“i wrote you letters…” you said quietly after a moment of silence. “…but since you stopped reading them i stopped sending new ones-“

“i was always reading them,” he said defensively. “i still should have them somewhere… i just had no idea what to write to you back.”

You looked up at him, his expression showing how sincere he was in this moment.

“…we should catch up.” you offered quietly. “a lot of things had happened.”

“yes. we definitely should.” he nodded.

After a moment of silence you looked up at him again after he called your name again.

“i missed you.”

You smiled softly, feeling his hands rest on your shoulders gently, pulling you into a hug.

#severus snape x reader #harry potter fanfiction

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 13

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Canonical character death; Vomiting; Sexual themes.

A/N: It hasn’t taken me this long to write a chapter for this since I started it. And once again, I’m disappointed in the quality. I hope it’s received well enough. :/ And try not to maim me over the ending. I’m hoping it will inspire me to be a bit faster with updates. 😅

It had taken you a while to calm down. Hours later, you were under the sheets and lying with your back toward the door. People came and went, offering food and medication and water. You accepted all with silence, only for the sake of your baby. The little one needed the food and water and you needed the medication to help you keep it down. Carol informed you that she and Lori had taken care of Daryl. Had they murdered him?

The sun had set and cloaked your room in shadow by the time you opened your eyes again. You didn't even remember falling asleep. What had woken you? Hands rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you sat up. There was a curious light outside the window. It was as if you had been denied the audio from a feature film but suddenly pressed the button to unmute.

Screams, gunfire, cars, motorcycle. What the hell is happening?! Your fingers brushed the top of your boots when the bedroom door swung open. Lori appeared wild, frightened to a degree you had never witnessed in her before.

“Carl!? Y/N, have you seen Carl?!”

“No, I’m sorry. Lori, what—” But she was gone. Now the panic was setting in, your chest tightening for the second time that day. Where was Daryl? What was going on?

“Patricia! Beth! Y/N! We have to go!” Carol’s voice was an unfamiliar tone, the quiet woman infused with a tension and fear in the call of each name. You stepped into your boots and jogged down the stairs just as Patricia and Beth stepped out onto the porch. Carol was reaching for you before you even noticed her.

“What’s happening?!” You were breathless with worry and confusion.

“The farm isn’t safe. We have to go!” The woman urged, her hand wrapping around your wrist. Beth was crying, Lori was panicked. The sight that greeted you was overwhelming. Walkers everywhere. The barn burning. Gunshots from cars circling the herd.

“Carol.” You whimpered. You had no weapon, watching Lori bolt with a bag. “Do we have any guns?”

“No time to find one! Go!”

The four of you sprinted off the porch, the herd closing in, forcing you in different directions. You weren’t sure how you ended up so far into the field, running blindly in the dark, the only light coming from the unsteady flames devouring the barn. You didn’t stop running, the dead closing in from all sides.

You nearly stumbled into the desperate clutches of a woman, teeth snapping at you before she could get a good hold. You pushed her, stumbling backward into the chest of a man, his rotting mouth snapped by your head, nearly taking your ear. You couldn’t help but scream. You’d never make it to the forest. There, you could easily utilize the safety nature provided. However, the amount of dead that blocked your path made it impossible.

With the fence at your back, the road just beyond it, you glanced over your shoulder. You could hop the structure easily but more dead waited on the other side. Your mind was still scrambling for a resolution when you heard the familiar rumble and crunch of gravel beneath rubber.

Daryl was there, calling your name. You cleared the fence and ran to him, legs burning and breaths unreliable.

“C’mon! I ain’t got all day!” He was standing over the front edge of the seat so you could easily mount the bike behind him. Once both of you were seated, you wrapped your arms around his middle and buried your face into his back.

“Go! Go!” Your shout was muffled against the leather vest but he heard you and soon you were moving, the wind carrying the smell of blood and smoke. You burrowed further against him, taking in his scent instead. Leather and pine, his natural musk, a hint of tobacco. You focused on it while he dodged walkers, the snarling growls and moans too close as you felt him slow and start to weave.

“Not so tight.” His warm hand patted yours and disappeared just as quickly.

“Daryl.” You whimpered. You pulled your hands back to rest on his sides, lightly curling your fingers into his vest. Any noise aside from the motorcycle began to fade as the wind picked up. You were going faster. Still, you didn’t let go, didn’t look up. You’d barely made it out. If Daryl hadn’t been there—

He was slowing again, to a crawl and eventually, a stop. When he cut the engine and began to move away, you could feel him taking your breath along behind him. You were clumsy bringing your leg over the seat, nearly toppling face first onto the gravel road.

“Why—Daryl, why are we stopping?! We can’t be here! It’s not safe, Daryl!” You knew you looked like a wild animal, eyes wide and frantic, your hands protectively curled around your middle. “Daryl—Daryl, we—”

“Easy.” How long had he been standing that close? Your gaze focused on him, but you still couldn’t seem to catch your breath.

Red.

“Daddy!”

“I love you, Peanut.”

“Hey, we’re good.” His palms were warm against your face, blue eyes swimming with concern. He was trying to bring you out of the darkness you had wandered into, scared and vulnerable. “Gotta breathe, Y/N. C’mon, girl.” You hadn’t realized your own hands were grasping at his shoulders until he was releasing your face to gently pry them off. “Doin’ better. Can’t stay here long but ya can’t ride like this.” He lowered your hands to your lap and placed his palm back against your cheek.

You ducked your head and swallowed back the bile inching up your throat, realization striking you like a freight train. “Oh god, I left the meds! All of Hershel’s supplies! Daryl, the baby—”

“Ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to either’a ya. Ya hear me?” The conviction in those eyes, the determination. He meant it. You hiccupped and nodded, the deep breath you finally willed yourself to take stuttering. “Are ya hurt? Bit?” You shook your head with more enthusiasm than necessary. “Need to getcha somewhere safe, try an’ find the others.”

He was still standing close to you and watched as you wiped your face, looking away when you tried to meet his eyes. You allowed your arms to fall back toward your lap, your right one hitting his foreman on the way down. His palm was on your belly. You hadn’t noticed he’d placed it there when he had moved your hands. Bringing attention to it was likely to embarrass or upset him. A repeat of the events from earlier was not something you could handle.

“What if we’re the only ones?” You asked when his hand moved to run through his hair. He jutted his chin forward, wordlessly requesting you move so he could again straddle the bike. There was no hesitation, he stood with his boots on the ground to let you seat yourself behind him.

“We ain’t.”

“But if we are?”

He didn’t look at you, but was still for a moment. You watched his fingers flex around the handlebars.

“Then s’just the three’a us.”

You were careful to not squeeze too tightly this time when you wrapped your arms around his stomach.

You gave a weak smile to Carl as you climbed off the bike. To your absolute shock, after the embrace with his mother and father, he hurried over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Hey, kid. Glad you’re okay.” You plucked his hat off, ruffled his hair, and sat the giant thing back down. He beamed up at you and then continued on his journey of relieved greetings. You spotted Daryl watching you and shrugged. Sometimes you thought Carl didn’t even realize you were around. There were few words spoken between you and the kid, even though you did talk quite a bit with Lori.

You’d slept so much the day before but you found yourself exhausted, feeling slightly nauseous. You’d told Daryl about the medication. Had he mentioned it during the discussion of where to go next? Leaning against the bike, you watched him rationalize with the others on a plan.

He seemed calmer around everyone, not so eager to gain distance. He glanced back at you now and again, looking away when he realized you were still watching him. You couldn’t seem to find it within you to be embarrassed. Maybe you could blame exhaustion or pregnancy.

“Y/N?”

“Huh?” You stood up straight only to find everyone looking at you now. Did Daryl just smirk at you? “Sorry, what’s going on?”

“We just wanted to get your opinion.” Carol smiled, small and tired, but knowing. Everyone probably saw you gawking at your baby daddy.

“Whatever Daryl says is fine by me.” The implications of your statement were lost on you until the second the last syllable crossed over your lips. Even the archer had the decency to look surprised. Now you were embarrassed. An oil stain on the pavement became ever so interesting when you needed to look away. Your gaze remained there for the rest of the conversation.

Daryl offered to find Andrea but was quickly shot down by Rick, saving you the trouble. Once T-Dog suggested east, Daryl agreed that main roads should be avoided. He walked by you to grab the crossbow from the back of the bike and quickly took down a walker before strapping the weapon back in place.

“Watch out.” The hunter carefully nudged you aside and climbed onto the bike.

“Want me to ride with some of them?” You pulled your flannel tighter and hugged yourself against the chill. You were definitely not dressed for the weather.

“Nah, you’re with me.” He replied from around his thumbnail. He was eyeing your attire, knowing for certain you weren’t dressed for how cold the nights would get. You knew it too. He said he wouldn’t let anything happen to you or the baby. That meant finding medication and clothing. “Don’t care what we’re doin’ or where we are, if we’re both there, you’re with me ‘less I say otherwise. Understood?”

“Okay.” You acquiesced with a nod and climbed on, grateful for the natural heat of the archer’s body. You would have sighed if it wouldn’t just raise other questions. When the bike began moving, you continued to keep your hold loose but buried your face again, not only shielding your skin from the cold air but also effectively hiding the small smile you wore.

Daryl pulled the bike off at Rick’s signal, asking if he was out of gas. Your hold on him remained until he patted your interlocked fingers and waved for you to climb off. You tried to keep your teeth from chattering while everyone talked—argued, really—about staying or going.

Rick had killed Shane. The deputy hadn’t been very forthcoming with the details but your lack of interest regarding the man’s death told you exactly where you stood. You were never a fan.

“Look, I don’t care who goes today or tomorrow, but m’goin’ cause Y/N needs that medicine.”

“I can go with you.” You offered, following Daryl toward the selected camp area. When he stopped, you nearly collided with his back. He turned without looking at you, not at first. When he did, his expression was stern. The hand he brought up to grasp your chin was quite the opposite.

“Remember what I said? You’re with me ‘less I say otherwise.” You nodded. “This one’s otherwise. Need ya to stay here tomorrow. You’re gonna be sick by then, I reckon. Distracted. Need ya safe.”

You kept your gaze locked with his. “Okay.” You conceded easily, almost smiling at the naked relief in his eyes. “Would—would you get me a jacket? Maybe some—some maternity clothes?”

The archer scrunched his nose, releasing his hold on you. “Tell Maggie ‘bout the clothes. I’ll find ya the meds an’ a jacket.” He turned away, but you called his name before he could make it far. You weren’t sure he’d accept the contact after yesterday’s fiasco, but you placed your arms around his neck, your face tucked against his shoulder.

“Thank you.” He hummed and nodded in response, quick to end the embrace and disappear past the treeline. He was likely gathering firewood. He wouldn’t be hunting. He was too adamant about you staying with him to go far.

The archer was shaken by the events of the previous night, whether or not he cared to admit it. Maybe not the walkers or the loss of the farm; maybe not even the deaths. He was worried for you and his baby. It shone clear in the way he looked at you, the way he wanted to keep you close. The unwanted but familiar insecurities came creeping in, compounding on top of your already unsettled stomach. Was he just looking out for the baby?

“Maggie?” Your voice came out quiet and unsteady but you still managed to snag her attention. “Daryl said you’re going tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” She stepped away from Glenn with a lingering touch on his arm, making sure he knew she was still there. “Don’t worry. I know what medications you need and we’ll find them. We’ll find something.”

You nodded without meeting her eyes. “Thank you but he told me to ask you about clothes. These,” you pulled at your t-shirt beneath the flannel, “won’t be warm enough. And I’ll get—bigger.” You made an awkward gesture around your abdomen with both hands.

“You’re glowing, you know.” The look on your face must have been reason enough for her to giggle and place a hand on your bicep, squeezing ever so gently. “Pregnancy suits you. Don’t worry. I’ll find you some clothes. Shoes too, cause your feet are gonna swell. You’ll thank me later.”

“My feet?” You squeaked, looking down at your boots. “Thumper, be nice to mommy’s feet. I need those.”

You weren’t feeling well at all by the time the sun began to dip below the horizon. The night air was cold, even with your proximity to the fire Daryl continued to feed. Your stomach was a rolling mess of knots. You managed some water but even that threatened to make a reappearance.

Daryl hadn’t hunted. He wouldn’t leave you behind, especially when you started feeling unwell. The group had not been happy, offering to sit with you and to not let you out of their sight. It wasn’t good enough for him. He knew anything he managed to bring back would be of no benefit to you.

When you tried to send him off, he pinned you with the same look he’d given you at the farm before he had turned away and yelled for you to leave. You raised your hands in defeat and walked away.

Now, a few hours later, you were glad he hadn’t left. Even with all the people around you, there was a suffocating tension around that campsite. Had you been left under their guard, you likely would have ended up in the middle of the venomous arguments and snarky jabs. You just didn’t have the energy.

You were a silent spectator during Daryl’s conversation with Carol, his defense of Rick. The man in question came around the wall that sheltered the group, tense words once again shared. You couldn’t take part, couldn’t even begin to grasp what was being shared, crawling to a spot at the perimeter to empty the liquid contents of your stomach. The heaving was painful and left you gasping and spitting with a hand clutching the shirt over your belly, as if protecting the life inside you from your own body’s revolt.

“Y’alright?” Daryl drawled from somewhere beside you. You nodded slowly, even if it was the furthest thing from the truth. The added stress seemed to have taken its toll. You somehow made it upright to your knees, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand. One look at the archer’s face made it evident that he wasn’t buying it. “Let’s getcha settled for the night.” It wasn’t a question in need of answering. It wasn’t even a suggestion.

“I’m not sure I can walk that far.” The longing for the warmth of the fire was substantial but not enough for you to even try to send the signals for your legs to cooperate.

“Didn’t ask ya to.” Had you felt a little more human, you might have wallowed in the indignation of him gathering you up to relieve you of the bothersome, albeit short, walk to the fireside. You were deposited slightly closer than when you’d taken a seat on your own. The warmth was intense and welcome but still not enough to battle the cold that had taken root within your bones.

“Thanks.” You muttered through a deep sigh. The group was now sitting in relative silence, all but Carl still awake. Your own eyes were heavy within moments. You chose to submit to it and laid over on your side. The ground was freezing but what could you do? It hardly mattered anyway, as your eyes closed and you drifted off almost immediately.

You awoke with a deep breath that morphed into a yawn. It appeared everyone was asleep with the exception of Glenn and Maggie up on the wall. It was pleasantly warm, just the slightest bit of cold seeping in here and there. Maybe you could just coax your mind back into slumber. Stretching a leg to seek out a more comfortable position, you realized something was keeping you from moving.

“Be still, woman. Jesus.”

You froze, briefly holding your breath. Daryl was lying beside you with his back pressed against yours, acting as your own personal space heater. There was a part of you—a rather large part that you’d like to punch in the throat—that wanted to roll over and curl into the man. He was warm. You already knew he ran hot, you’d been pressed against him in more pleasurable ways than this.

Violently beating down the urge to spoon with the archer, you cleared your throat, knowing your voice would be rough from sleep and vomiting. “Thank you.”

“Ain’t nothin’. You were cold, saw ya shiverin’.” He shifted slightly. “Gotta take watch soon. Ya gonna be alright?”

You nodded with a quiet mhm already missing his warmth though he had yet to move. You would be fine, of course. Nauseous with a headache the size of Montana but not dying. That qualified as alright, right?

You let your eyes close, too exhausted to sleep any longer but the feeling of warmth and safety was enough for you to at least relax. All too soon, the cold air struck against your back, coaxing a quiet whine from your throat. Rolling to your back, your bottom lip jutted out into the most exaggerated pout you could possibly achieve.

Daryl looked down as he strapped his crossbow onto his back. He snorted. Mission accomplished.

Almost.

“Can I go with you?” You sat up, scratching your lower belly. Damn, it had itched lately. Maybe you should ask for some lotion too. You could see the exact moment when automatic refusal died on his lips, his eyes flitting down to where your fingers grazed lightly over your abdomen.

“Well, c’mon then.” Daryl needlessly adjusted the strap of the weapon, running his thumb over his bottom lip while he waited. The beaming smile you gave him spread across your face before you even gave it permission. You didn’t even ask before grabbing his arm to pull yourself up. He huffed but you caught the one corner of his mouth lifting before he looked away.

“Lead the way, my good man.” You waved your arm forward and stepped aside so you could fall in behind him. He was shaking his head with a huff of air through his nose that really could have been a laugh.

“Your good man, huh?”

You stumbled within the first three steps, his words catching you off guard. His large hand easily caught your upper arm, keeping you on your feet. You scowled in the face of his smirk. “I never liked you.” You jested with a light punch to his shoulder.

Smirk still in place, he nodded toward your belly. “Ya liked me well ‘nough at one point.” You had no comeback, your mouth opening and closing like a fish. He gently squeezed your arm before letting go, walking away like he hadn’t just taken the upper hand and used it to drop the mic.

Face scrunched, you fought back a smile before the battle was no longer necessary. Your eyes traveled from his shoulders, down his back, lingering on his ass before continuing the journey to his boots and back up again. Images of your first few encounters slammed into the forefront of your mind. You gasped quietly, the memories so vivid that you could almost feel him deep inside of you. Remembering how he grunted and panted, his large hands exploring every inch of you.

“Gonna check the perimeter. You two good for now?” Daryl called up to the couple on the wall, snapping you out of your reverie. You paused behind him while the exchange took place, rubbing your thighs together to at least try and stifle the throbbing ache in your core.

What the fuck,Y/N?! Get a grip! You followed on autopilot when he set off again, your mind racing. You were suddenly hot, nearly sweating; your mouth went dry. That damned throb at the apex of your thighs just would not relent. How could you go from sick and sleepy to depraved and horny? Oh, yeah. Pregnancy.

“Stop lollygaggin’ an’ keep up.” Daryl snapped, thankfully not looking back at you. You could feel your skin heating, knew he’d find it flushed. A sense of shame attempted to overwhelm your sudden desire. You were ogling the archer like a piece of meat dangled over a lions’ den. “What’re ya starin’ at?” He asked absentmindedly, removing his crossbow to carry it at his side.

“Nothing.” You replied a little too quickly, your voice low and breathy. That got his attention. He came to an abrupt halt and turned to eye you suspiciously.

“Ya okay?”

You took a step back in tandem with his step forward, nodding vigorously even as your chest heaved. His head was tilted, eyes narrowed, looking as if he was solving a particularly complicated mathematical equation.

“Ya sure?”

“Mhm!” Too enthusiastic, not very convincing. “I think,” you were nearly fucking panting as your back pressed against an inconveniently placed tree, “I’ll just head back.” You rolled against the bark to face the trail toward camp and your chest promptly collided with his arm when he blocked your exit.

“Nuh-uh.” Daryl ducked his head, trying to catch your eye. “S’wrong with ya?” You didn’t answer; couldn’t really, what with trying to calm the lust flowing through your veins like molten lava. The taste of blood filled your mouth, the sting of your teeth piercing your lip was a welcome distraction. “Y/N.”

Stop talking. Stop looking at me. Where was this coming from? You had appreciated his handsome features and physical attributes plenty of times without the burning need to feel him pounding into you. Your eyes snapped toward him when the same hand that had met the tree to block you came to rest against your forehead.

“You’re warm. Fever?”

“No.” Your voice trembled even more so than your body. You pushed his hand away as gently as you could manage, trying again to walk away. “I need to go back.” Fingers wrapped around your wrist.

“Nah, not alone. I’ll ta—”

Your mouth was on his so fast that he staggered back. You heard his crossbow hit the ground, felt his muscles tense. He didn’t react for a moment that seemed to last forever but when he did, it wasn’t what you were hoping for, what your body was craving. You whined heatedly, attempting to pull him back to you by tugging his vest.

“Th’fuck, woman?” Daryl didn’t sound angry. Far from it. He sounded confused. And unfortunately for you, the ache between your legs had chased away any semblance of dignity you might have once had. “You’re sick, exhausted. What the hell?”

“I need—” You whined, rubbing your thighs together while your hands pulled at his clothes. He wasn’t trying to stop you. He wasn’t doing much of anything actually. Just studying you with that stoic expression while you were about to all but beg him to fuck you senseless. “Daryl, I need—”

“Tell me whatcha need.” His tone was soft, like he was genuinely trying to understand.

“You.” Your eyes were shining, wide and wet. “I don’t know—it just—I was fine and then—”

“S’hormones.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture delicate. You wanted to kiss him and slap him at the same time.

“Damn you and your book.” You growled. You weren’t really sure what you were expected to do now, what you expected him to do. You were friends. It wasn’t like he’d just acquiesce and fuck you sideways. When he walked away, you thought you might curl up on the ground and cry. Since when did desire become borderline painful?

A deep breath did little to aid you. Maybe you could slink off into a corner at camp and take care of things yourself. It would be awkward and you could get cau—

“C’mere.”

You blinked at him while still trying to get your breaths under control. His crossbow was leaning against a different tree now. He was standing in front of it, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip again. You approached hesitantly, hands wringing the front of your shirt.

“Daryl?”

Once you were within reach, he grabbed the edge of your flannel and pulled you forward, spinning you just before your body met his. Your back against his chest, you could feel him breathing on your neck, a fresh wave of arousal seeping from your core. You were sure your pajama pants were soaked at this point.

“Daryl, are you—”

He shushed you against your ear, allowing the lightest brush of his skin over yours. “See that?” He wrapped one strong arm around you with his palm resting on your belly, the other hand lifting to point low to the ground behind where you had previously stood. “Perimeter line. Cans an’ shit to make noise.” His stubbled cheek rubbed against your neck. “One behind us too. Anythin’ or anyone comes through, we’ll hear ‘em.”

“Okay?” You shivered when you heard him inhale against your hair, taking in your scent. You nearly came from the thought of him enjoying the way you smelled. Then again, even with your sensitive senses, you found his scent calming.

The hand over your stomach pressed just the slightest bit harder while his other hand slid up your side to cover your breast. The ache when he squeezed brought a moan out of you so quickly that he flinched behind you before chuckling. No longer wearing a bra until you could one that fit, he could feel your nipple harden, immediately shifting his hand so he could pinch the sensitive bud between his thumb and forefinger.

“Ya sure s’me ya want takin’ care’a this for ya?” On the surface, he seemed ready and confident, already having knowledge of your body. His voice though, it was the most fragile, tiniest uncertainty filtering through.

“Please.” You whined, feeling the evidence of his desire now pressing against your ass.

“Say it then.” Daryl nipped at your pulse and soothed the skin with his lips and tongue. “Tell me ya want me.”

You wanted him to keep talking, whispering against your skin in that gravelly rasp that was making your pussy clench and ache. Then again, you wanted him to shut the fuck up and get on with it already before you spontaneously combusted.

“I want you. I need you, please.” Your body was so alive with need that you’d beg on your hands and knees if he asked. You groaned when he chuckled again, this time right against your ear. It wasn’t very long ago that you were shivering in front of a fire. Now you shivered while your skin burned for a completely different reason. Funny how that worked.

“S’bout damn time.”

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akookminsupporter · 2 months ago

Note

Jungkook: And we went to Tokyo for our first trip.

Jimin: Yes

Jungkook: That’s why I wanted to come back. *proceeds to put his hand on Jimin’s back*

AYS, Episode 6, Sapporo

I’m still here. Not sure if it’s just me, but I just think it was such a meaningful thing to say. Reading their perspective on that Tokyo trip from BTS Beyond the Story, I appreciated the fact they allowed us to see their dynamics without the other members. I know Jimin seemed initially unsure if he made the right decision, but maybe it was because he knew he and Jungkook’s relationship would be further placed under the microscope and would leave them exposed and vulnerable to everyone, and not just the people who genuinely support them.

Jungkook is smart and sentimental, and from what we’ve seen and heard so far, it’s like he has another part of his brain solely storing information and memories he have with Jimin. Tbh, I dont understand why some people are so afraid of even acknowledging the fact that these two share a deep bond, and surprisingly even supposed OT7 accounts shy away from celebrating or even just talking about Jikook. They’ll joke about every other duo except Jikook. Why is that?

I agree with you, Anon. Something else I find really curious about that conversation or clip is Jungkook saying that they subconsciously said they wanted to go to Sapporo. What did he mean by subconsciously? Were they discussing with the staff where they wanted to go next, and out of nowhere, they started talking about Sapporo? Or did they begin talking about Japan because Jungkook already had commitments there, and somehow Sapporo just came up? These are questions I’d love to ask both of them.

It’s obvious that their trip to Tokyo holds a deeper meaning for them—more than we even understand—and Jungkook basically confirmed that when he said he wanted to go back to Japan because their first trip together was there. That’s interesting, too, because their first trip together was to Tokyo—a place where they spent two days and didn’t film anything—but still, they chose Sapporo. I don’t know; all of this just left me with more questions than answers. But one thing’s clear: that country is special to them. And I mean really special, because every time they come back from Japan, they’re clingier than ever ajajajaja.

They remember almost everything about each other. They know things about one another that the other members don’t seem to—like when Joon wasn’t sure if Jimin had ever shaved his head, and when he asked, Jungkook was the one who answered. Even when they didn’t seem to spend that much time together, they still knew everything—like Jimin casually mentioning that Jungkook had been riding motorcycles recently. They just seem to make an effort to stay updated on everything about each other, and that’s honestly amazing.

Like we’ve said before, these people are just scared to accept what’s right in front of them. Each for different reasons, but it all boils down to fear, cowardice, and, in some cases, pure hate. It’s honestly sad.

If Jimin and Jungkook’s relationship or dynamic has evolved the way most of us assume it has, it’ll be interesting to see what those “fans” have to say—especially if the company starts releasing things like Memories again.

#anon #ask #jkkrs opinion #jkk show #preg 49

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shawty-writes-a-little · 1 year ago

Text

don’t ever let go

꒰ erik lensherr x fem!reader ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

.𖥔 ݁ 🪐˖ word count: 2.2k+

⌞ plot: sort of hurt comfort when erik finds his rather irritable posing s/o going through a nightmare ⌝

warnings: nightmares, angst sort of (fluff end dw)?

People with contradictory world view and general thinking are bound to be engaged in petty disagreements. As strongly opinionated as Erik was he never got along with one certain mutant. Erik and y/n, always fighting, at each other’s throats. Most times they were rather entertaining scene creators at the Xavier’s institute, clashes were famous with the most colourful language used amongst the students. However Charles grew tired of this, best minds he knew were always bickering and fighting. Petty fights and little grudges turn ugly if pit against each other on battleground. God forbid that situation ever arises but Charles bad seen enough falling apart within his own to know how much could go wrong.

So, to get them along he paired the two to gather intel on some government bills at the procession gala held at Berlin. He was persuasive but not god, after all it was the hardest task in the world to get erik and y/n sit for dinner at the same table let alone go halfway across the world and pose as a couple, stay in one place and not blow cover? Charles came with the most believable persuading story as he could, lied the Oval Office asked for the two to specifically attend the mission this and that and it was a long afternoon trying to convince the two but the professor won in the end.

That is how Erik and her ended up in Berlin, the moment they were alone, not posing anymore their smiles and in-love act completely dropped. Shutting the hotel door behind him Erik sighed. It was a whole week of these galas and charity events, back from their first one and y/n was already growing tired of Erik. “You know I kind of hated how you manhandled me back there.” She complained as she leaned on the wall for support and removed her heels.

“What?” He asked confused as he removed his blazer and draped it on the sofa chair “What are you talking about I did no such thing” he said not exactly recalling anything like that.

“You said something to that senator in French and then grabbed me close to you to kiss my forehead like I was on the run from you-who does that?” Y/n said, she didn’t speak French so she didn’t understand what the conversation was on about regardless the moment she recalled, she wasn’t even standing that far away for him for him to yank her close to him like that.

“A husband?” Erik said raising brows as he exaggerated in obviousness removing his cufflinks.

“With the grace of a woodcutter?” She scoffed as she rolled her eyes at him, it’s not like she minded that, the two posed like that the entire night at the event it’s just that erik would time and time loose his cool and she didn’t want any casualties further into these galas “it would look like I’m your hostage instead of wife can’t you try and look gentler somehow?”

“You just made that up.” Erik said as he shook his head disregarding her suggestion “The senator made a rather vulgar comment about you in French by the way, instead of adding to it I held you close. Would you rather I laugh along with him and appear rather crass?”

“you can try but you can’t really change what you are” Y/n mumbled with a stifled chuckle at her own jab as she stood by the dressing table mirror removing her jewellery.

“I heard that.” He responded giving her a disappointed look but she just laughed at it anyways. He changed out of his shirt as they’d conversed. Not engaging in silly debates anymore y/n went to the adjoining bathroom to change out of her dress.

Erik worked on gathering some background on the guests of the events they’d met and conversed with, information in context of intel they had so far whilst y/n updated Charles via a long email, two emails, one of the intel and other how much insufferable Erik was.

Their third day in Berlin went remotely same, night however was about to be different. Y/n was settling their bed, the first two nights they took turns on the sofa but it turned out to be very uncomfortable to sleep in so they decided to share the bed. Erik glanced up from his laptop as y/n was setting up a pillow wall on the bed “That is so childish.” He commented.

“Yeah yeah” y/n said as she rolled her eyes, making clear partition of the bed. “Do not invade my side alright?”

Erik couldn’t help but laugh at the use of ‘invade’ “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He said as he turned his attention back to the laptop. He decided to stay up rather late that night even after y/n retreated to bed. He would joke that it was easier to work after she was sleep and before she was awake as if he secretly didn’t hate the absence her ramblings brought.

An hour or so had passed, Y/n was sound asleep as he decided to wind up. He left to clean the desk, brush his teeth and wind down. When he came to bed he was met with y/n mumbling in her sleep, tossing and turning on her side of the bed.

His gaze softened when he realised she might be going through a nightmare. It seemed difficult, whatever she was seeing, he couldn’t understand her words but he caught a few pleading syllables here and there. “y/n…hey wake up” he cooed softly as he tried to wake her up, he gently placed his hands on her shoulder. “Hey-you’re just dreaming y/n…wake up.” He spoke and she got up almost instantly, breathing heavily.

She sat up trying to get used to the surroundings again, always the same thing. She hated when those dreams resurfaced revolving around her most despised horror. Erik had heard from Charles of what she’d been through when she was new, he didn’t know she was impacted to this scale. “Are you alright?” His voice arose another bad feeling inside of her. She didn’t want to be perceived as a weakling in front of him. When they’d argue he’d often call her that, not that she wouldn’t call him worse back but she would hate if he found out about this ordeal. She didn’t want to appear weak.

Getting out of the bed hurriedly she rushed to the table stand, feeling a bit dizzy after how fast she stood up and how fast she was trying to comprehend everything. She tried to pour herself a glass of water shakily. Her train of thoughts ran as she tried not to have a break down, her heart beat fast from the visuals of the nightmare still fresh in her mind. Erik was quick to pace up to her “Hey look at me” he spoke taking the jug of water out of her hands given she was struggling to pour it properly.

“Are you alright?” Erik repeated his question and he could note how she was still too shaken to answer correctly and fine enough.

“Y-yeah-“ she could muster out as she tried to level her breathing which didn’t seem to work apparently.

“Y/n.” He spoke leaning lower to meet her eyes since she avoided eye contact with him, “look at me” he spoke as he placed comforting hands by biceps to hold her upright. “Deep breaths with me, come on.” He spoke as he guided her to sit on the edge of the bed. He rubbed her back as she was still slightly trembling guiding her to breathe evenly.

After a few moments when she tried to fake the best proper composure she could she nodded, “I’m alright thanks” she said very softly afraid she might tear up any moment. Ever so tired and scared of her recurring nightmares, just when she thought it was getting better. Why would it not leave her alone? Why couldn’t she move past it?

Erik wasn’t a mind reader but the look on her face read enough for him at the moment, “y/n” he sighed “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I said it’s fine-“ she said with an exhale however her breaking voice and avoiding stare said something else. She couldn’t hold it back anymore as the brimming tears surfaced out of her eyes. She held her head in her hands weeping into them. Erik didn’t say anything as he wrapped his arm around her in a comforting manner, “I-I’m not this soft alright I’m not-I’m not weak” she told him like she had to justify her crying.

“Hey hey hey-“ he cooed as he pulled away just to see her face again, “who says you’re weak? This is completely alright.” He reasoned with her as she cried.

“No I—I just-“ she didn’t exactly know how well she could phrase this out for him. How much terrified she was of what she kept seeing in her dream, from her past, haunting her again and again and how much she didn’t want him to think she was this much of a mess.

“You are not weak, y/n. You are anything but weak. It’s difficult going through a nightmare but you’re really strong, you made out of it see” he talked to her patiently in a very encouraging manner as he wiped her tears with his sleeve.

“It felt so real-“ she choked up as she tried her best to stop crying, Erik took her into his arms, giving her a hug as he spoke sweet nothings to him.

She cried and trembled in his arms unable to speak coherently until she soothed her crying, he held her throughout it. “I am just so tried Erik…” she said as he pulled away to look at her face.

He removed the hair in front of her face, tucking it behind her ear, “is it always this bad?” He asked her, feeling really awful how much she’d had gone through already and even then in sleep she wasn’t left alone of it. Y/n nodded as she wiped the tears off her face, she wasn’t so phased by ‘this’ bad given she was used to them now.

“Is it frequent?” He asked, his softened gaze holding her trouble one.

“Not as frequent but-it comes and goes, I just can’t escape it.” She said with a dejected sigh. “I am used to it I just wish I was—properly used to it. I wish I wasn’t this affected…”

“Nobody should have to be used to this y/n it’s difficult, really difficult.” He told her as he held her hands in his softly. “It’s bound to affect you, in the worst way it’s made you…you. Surely doesn’t define you but it defines your strength, your courage. You are truly strong.”

“But I’m afraid Erik” she told him looking away, “I am exhausted of being this afraid.”

“And that’s fine.” He replied holding her hands in his a little tighter to impose the exaggeration of his words, “It takes strength to keep going, even more to be afraid and still keep going and you have done that job very well y/n.” He spoke as he kissed her forehead with a comforting smile adorning his face, reflecting how proud he was she made it through. “Let me help you?”

Y/n took a deep breath as she nodded, she felt rather safe in his help. In his presence and his touch, it was as comforting as it was safe. He helped her through that night, holding her close staying awake until she eventually fell asleep in his arms and he didn’t want to ever let go.

—

HIIII I hope you have a good day pls pls pls let me know if anyone wants to read more erik pieces! Requests are open too🕺

Feed back is desperately appreciated :)

Go drink water. Now. Or you will stub your toe in a corner in the next 10 seconds.

#erik lensherr x you #erik lensherr x reader #erik lensherr #magneto x reader #magneto #xmen fanfiction #erik lensherr imagine #xmen x reader

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neysaadept · 6 months ago

Text

Prometheus Chapter 8

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Chapter 8 - Excision Part Two (Criminal Minds Case Time)

Tags: Limited use of y/n but established last name. Swearing, mentions of the pandemic and human and sex trafficking. Canon typical violence. Sexual innuendos. Drinking. Smoking. Slow Burn. Murder. Depictions of Flaying. Implied Rape. Mentions of Date Rape Drugs. Strangulation. Restraints. Mental Institutions. PTSD. Childhood trauma. Psychological Trauma. Implied references to child abuse. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 6k

AO3

Chapter 7

You were hanging out in Prentiss' hotel room later in the evening. She was able to reserve three rooms for you all at a hotel in Indio to be close to the unsub’s hunting grounds. You all decided to eat dinner together while processing the information gleaned from the M.E. and Rossi’s interviews, which ended about an hour ago. You all felt you could think clearer here than at the station. Sheriff Grosch was breathing down yours and Prentiss’ necks every step of your investigation since the tox screen came back. It was unbearable. Even you being direct that you needed space to work without constant interruptions that had nothing to do with the case fell on deaf ears. So, the two of you said fuck it and called Rossi to meet you at the hotel. The station knew how to contact you if anything further came up. Local law enforcement had given you everything you needed and were just in the way at this point and explained you would have the profile nailed down soon to announce at the station late tonight.

Garcia had given you a brief update on the ‘Home Team’. JJ, Luke, and Tara almost had the unsubs but were distracted by them hacking into the Bluetooth speakers to lead the BAU away from their exact location in the house. They were able to flee the scene with two more dead guards to process. They worked out the profile and announced it to local PD. They believe they’re local so they’re hoping they can make an arrest soon.

You also feel that the unsub is local based on the geographical profile you worked out that was taped on the mirror over the flatscreen. You had marked up the dumping grounds of both bodies, where they lived, worked, and where they were last spotted. There was far too much overlapping for the unsub not to be familiar with the area. They were staying inside safe hunting grounds.

Dave was able to find out that McGarth was meeting a woman for drinks at the bar. It wasn’t just a wind down and hopefully get laid. The meet up sounded like a date. Unfortunately, his boss and the other members of the firm had no idea who this mystery woman was. Garcia was running through dating apps to see if there was a match with McGarth, but the guy was a player. He had several apps and lots of ladies that he was chatting it up with. That would take time on top of Garcia working with the home team in tracking down the security guard murderers, but she assures you all that she’s got this.

Sulliven’s family and his assistant were not helpful. The timeline indicated that he left work like usual but never made it home. His family thought he was working late at the office, which was not unusual.

You also learned that neither victim was sexual assaulted nor had any trace residue of semen. That was the part that was baffling the three of you – the method didn’t match up with the assault.

Rossi was sitting at the desk, using a fork to eat his orange chicken which made both you and Prentiss poke fun of him since the two of you were using chopsticks.

Prentiss was currently on the bed plucking out a peapod. “So why drug them? I get the sedation but drugging them with no signs of sexual aggression doesn’t add up.”

“The drugs were used on both victims,” says Rossi. “It’s possible that’s what they had access to.”

“But flunitrazepam isn’t sold in the US. Even doctors barely use it in other countries” you add before munching on a steamed shrimp. You had made yourself comfortable on the floor sitting cross legged.

“But they can?” Rossi leans back thoughtfully. “Not common but possible.”

You shrug. “Not unless you bring a script to your local drug dealer. And by script, I mean cash.”

“With how meticulous our unsub is, I find it hard to believe that they’d visit a drug dealer.” Prentiss shakes her head and motions animatedly with her hands, keeping a firm grip on the veggie between chopsticks. “They like being in control. Everything’s done with precision and going into the wrong part of town meeting a drug dealer gives up a lot of control.”

“A lot of countries have access to it. Australia, Japan, Mexico … quite a few countries in Europe.” You were well aware of this having worked with Interpol investigating a serial rapist in the UK and Ireland. Despite being legal, flunitrazepam was used as a date rape drug in other countries as well. “Can always narrow down our doctor pool with any international travel.”

Garcia’s search brought back over five thousand surgeons in Thermal area. With the flaying technique used, you narrowed it down to plastic surgeons but that only got the suspect pool down to over two thousand. You were in California. There were a shit ton of plastic surgeons.

“And with the bodies being relatively untouched, the unsub is probably female,” says Rossi. “Majority of rape victims are women. Especially with the use of date rape drugs.” He pauses in consideration. “Is it possible that our unsub picked her victims because they’re sexual offenders?”

Prentiss immediately facetimes Garcia on her laptop who immediately appears with a friendly wave. “Hello my fine furry friends. What’s up?”

Emily stabs her chopsticks into the food and sets aside the container. “Cross check police reports on our victims.”

“Anything specific we’re looking … Oh…” Her voice drops solemnly. “Am I looking for something extremely bad like rape charges? Cuz, I’m finding that both of them have that in common. As in they both were charged for the same incident.”

“They were convicted?” you ask in bewilderment since nothing came up on their background checks.

“Uh, no. Both of them had the charges dropped. Oh, get this. Alcohol was involved and it was indeterminate if consent was obtained or not and the poor darlings took some time before they reported the assault. Both men lawyered up really good, which is not surprising for a paralegal and a psychiatrist. One being able to use connections and the other having the money. They just up and ran with the lack of physical evidence even though hair samples on the victims detected our unsubs drug of choice. There was no way to prove these jerk faces did it.”

“Who pressed charges?” Rossi asks.

“Uh, Desiree Villanueva and Lauren Conway. Couple of friends trying to have a nice girls’ night when … ah damn. There was a third man involved. A Robert MacDonald - some banker at Wells Fargo.”

“Lovely. Little rich boys club wanted to play and wouldn’t take no for an answer,” states Rossi with disgust.

“Are either victim on our plastic surgeons list?” Prentiss questions next.

“Nope. Waitress and jeweler.”

“But we’re on to something with the unsub being a woman. How many are those plastic surgeons are female?” you request of Garcia.

“Little over four hundred.”

“Any of them show up on McGarth’s dating apps?”

“Ah … yes! Dr. Sandra Duncan! Has a practice in La Quinta.” Garcia brings up her driver’s and medical license. She had short brown hair with wavy bangs and piercing blue eyes. She was caught in mid-smile.

“That’s in our geo profile,” you confirm.

“Has she been a victim of sexual assault?” presses Emily.

“Unfortunately. She accused a Benjamin Riley of drugging her at a bar called The Treehouse in 2015. They were students together at Standford. Charges were dropped in a similar manner like our victims. After that, she went on to finish medical school, get married to an engineer named Drew Arnold. Oh no…” she whimpers while continuing “… her daughter, Charolette, died of leukemia six months ago. Then her jerk of a husband served divorce papers.”

You, Rossi and Prentiss share a knowing look and immediately leave dinner where it is and grab your coats.

“Two triggers in such a short time is more than enough to make someone lose control,” you state. “The family she had to ground her is gone, so she’s turn vigilante. Helping those women when no one helped her.”

Prentiss nods. “And she’s taking off their faces, their masks as you said, to show them for the rapists they are. She’s angry they got away with it and regressed back to when this happened to her.”

“And being a physician, she has access to drugs like midazolam,” says Rossi as you all walk out of Prentiss’ hotel room, already on the phone with the sheriff station to get the location of Arnold’s personal residence and place of business. “We’ll need a unit on Robert MacDonald, DOB 2/23/97, out of Palm Springs. Our unsub’s going for him next if she doesn’t have him already,” he explains to dispatch.

“Any chance she’s gone abroad?” questions Prentiss as you all head outside to the parking lot where the two SUVs waited. Garcia was now talking over speaker phone.

“Why yes she did. Two months ago, in fact. Visited a cousin in Ipswich, just outside of Brisbane. Happened after the divorce.”

Prentiss stops in front of the vehicles. “Garcia, work with local law enforcement to get us warrants ASAP on Duncan’s home and work. Does she have a business partner?”

“She does not. All solo.”

“Good. We don’t have to wake anyone else and waste more time. Once those warrants are in have SWAT meet us at both locations. Rossi?” Prentiss calls out to get his attention. He places the phone against his chest, giving her his full attention. “You take Duncan’s home. We got the clinic. No moving inside without the warrants unless there’s signs of a victim. Clear?”

“Crystal. I’ve got Grosch on the line who’s grumpy about things moving so fast …”

“Fucker’s always grumpy unless he’s calling the shots or up our asses,” you mutter while leaning against the front of the car.

Rossi chuckles. “Yes, but he’s waking the judge to get everything legal. Units will meet us there and set up a perimeter. They’ve got a squad car heading to MacDonald’s right now.”

Prentiss nods. “Let’s roll.”

“Be safe my loves!” Garcia says and hangs up.

Without warning, Prentiss tosses you the car keys and you deftly catch them in surprise. “You’re letting me drive?”

“Why not?” she says, opening the passenger door. “Or is driving twenty miles too hard for the maniac driver of the CIA?”

You grin ear to ear. “No, Ma’am.”

A Toyota SUV with no headlights on makes its way down the driveway of a multibuilding business center. It slows and makes a right and then swings around to back up into the driveway for deliveries at the one-story single building at the far end of the complex.

The garage opens and the SUV disappears inside. Only until the garage door closed, did the driver side open. Dr. Sandra Arnold was dressed in nice blue jeans, black boots, and an off the shoulder floral blouse. Hair and make-up were pristine, complementing her features for the faux date. She made her way to the patient cart that was already set up with sheets and pushed it over to the side of the trunk. With a quick wave of her foot under the car, the trunk slowly opened revealing an unconscious Robert MacDonald.

She brought the cart around, locked it in place, and then slid Robert onto it by the sheet he was laying over. After a few adjustments of scooting him around, she pulls up the slide rails, hovering over his face with blue eyes filled with malicious intent.

Her black gloved hand gently strokes down a chiseled cheek, then chin, and repeats the gesture back up the other side. Fingers play with brown strands of short hair. She roughly combed her fingers through it and looks at his face objectively, pulling it side to side to finish making the mental notes required to mark her incisions.

She pulls back, nostrils flaring as her eyes closed. Hands ball into shaking fists as she breathes through the rage building inside her, stopping herself from injuring this bastard. She had plans and could not ruin them with a violent outburst. Her heart now races with anticipation knowing that the victims that could not find justice just like her would have the peace they deserved. The peace that was denied them with a broken system easily manipulated by rich men who didn’t want their careers ruined.

Can’t have a career if you’re dead. Can’t hurt another woman if you’re dead, too.

“And how many more women did you rape since then, huh?!” she hisses with clenched teeth as she unlocks the cart and roughly pushes him into the next room.

Captain Robles met you and Prentiss outside La Quinta Cosmetic Surgery with a warrant in hand close to sixty minutes later. In that time, you and Prentiss were vested up as SWAT had set up a perimeter around the stucco and modern style office building. It was closed to 1am and there was little public to redirect since this area was all businesses. The building itself was dark with no vehicles in the parking lot or immediate surroundings. Chances of Arnold and or MacDonald here was slim after the first walk through around the building, but you all had to move fast to be sure.

Chattering over the radio indicated Rossi and Sheriff Grosch were about to enter Arnold’s residence after no response to announcing FBI presence.

Now it was your turn.

Prentiss had already ordered Robles and his officers to set up positions by all exits of the building. You, Prentiss and the SWAT team were going to coordinate entrance on the section chief’s orders. You and Prentiss had your guns at the ready, pointed at the ground, as you flanked the doorway together.

You lock eyes with Prentiss who gives the go ahead and you speak into the radio that Robles provided both of you. “Ready in five … four …”

You go silent as all units would finish the count down and on one, a SWAT officer came swinging in with the two handed breaching tool to place right between the lock and jamb. With two soft slaps that sound like a piston, the door is breached and Prentiss heads in first, shoulder blocking the door fully open.

A cacophony of clears starts echoing in the empty rooms. You call some out yourself as you clear a utility closet and bathroom and work your way with Prentiss and SWAT down the hallway. You all fan out to cover the rest of the rooms. There were two offices and six examination rooms. All empty.

One of the officers comes up to Prentiss, assault rifle securely pointed to the floor. “Building’s secure. No one’s onsite, Ma’am.”

Holstering her Glock, she licks her lips in thought. “Spread out and search for anything connecting Arnold with the victims or where she’s at.”

You already wandered away from her to do just that and landed in the supply room to look around at all the basic medical equipment an office like this would have. All the sterile processing of surgical tools would be done somewhere else. You were about to turn around and leave when something caught your eye. A white strap dangling out of a floor cabinet. You lean forward to open it and feel a rush of memories.

“FUCK YOU!” you screamed, spitting at the male nurse’s aide’s face. Two of them were trying to grab your flailing limbs as you thrashed about on the bed. “I’M NOT GONNA GO!”

“Damn it!” the one orderly huffed, shaking his head along his shoulder to get his eyes clean of saliva.

It gave you the chance to kick him in the stomach when his grip loosened. But with the commotion you were causing, two more men came in to assist and grabbed ahold of you. You were outnumbered as they forced your hands and feet into the padded restraints.

Then there was the hated sharp sting into your thigh of forced medication …

You come out of the memory, not realizing you were already cradling the wrist restraint. With a hard swallow, you now know why those indentations seemed so familiar with the victims. You had them yourself at one point when some asshole tech tightened your restraints too hard. Of course, part of you still wondered if you deserved the rough treatment. That guilt that since you were a bad patient, you deserved the treatment you got. You were always physical and uncooperative with staff, and you didn’t give a shit who you hurt back then …

“Hey, Whitlock?” Prentiss’ voice forces you to look up and you curse the fact that you just know your cheeks are burning. There is no way she didn’t notice it, but she didn’t press. “Got something?” she asks instead.

“Uh, yeah.” You toss the restraint over to Prentiss and she catches it. “Pretty sure this is what Arnold’s using on her vics.”

She turns it over thoughtfully. “And we found midazolam in the med room. Arnold’s home’s empty but Rossi did find untouched ampules of flunitrazepam.”

You free the phone from your belt and call Garcia. “The princess is in another castle. We’re 0 for 2 here.”

Prentiss looks up at you but was unable to catch your gaze. You were focused on the call with Garcia. She did have some reservations with how you reacted to the restraint she was now holding and wondered if it would affect your ability to remain in the field.

“Let’s see what my crystal ball can tells us. Ah! Arnold did set up shop at a different office before the one you’re currently standing in. About eight months ago she moved from there before her whole world unraveled. Former office locale is currently vacant and just like that, you have messages with the address.”

You take a peek at your texts before responding. “Thanks, Garcia. We’ll keep in touch.”

“You better, missy!” You wince, hearing the commanding tone of wholesome concern. “Queen Penelope out.”

You start moving out of the room while pulling up directions to the office. “We’re six minutes away.”

You were focused and the section chief would keep her concern to herself and stay close to you as this unfolds. Prentiss’ voice carries loud and clear throughout the hallway as she leads the way. “Alright everyone, we’re moving out!”

Fully gowned with hair tied back under a blue surgical cap and face covered by a mask, Arnold adjusts her goggles as she leans forward to inspect her work one last time. MacDonald’s face was centered inside the hole of the surgical drape to where the markings were clearly visible. His neck and upper torso were covered as well with wrists and ankles secured to the cart by restraints.

With a practiced hand, she reaches for the instrument tray to pull closer. She slides a finger down the length of the scalpel handle before picking it up. Despite her malevolent intentions, her grip was gentle as she tilted his head to secure him for the first incision.

But she was interrupted by the double doors to the exam room being kicked open. Her eyes widened in terror as officers start shouting orders.

“FBI!!!” Prentiss yells, gun lined up for a shot as two SWAT follow suit to cut off Arnold’s escape routes.

“FREEZE!!!”

“LOWER YOUR WEAPON!!!”

You watch Arnold pull the scalpel closure to MacDonald’s neck, securing his head in a headlock. “Get away! Get the fuck away!!!”

All four of you had a clean shot to take Arnold, but there was a chance she could still do irreparable harm with how close the blade was to MacDonald’s neck.

“Sandra, you need to put the scalpel down,” Prentiss says firmly.

“Like hell I do!” she shouts back. “He fucking deserves this! They all fucking deserve this!”

“It’s bullshit the justice system failed you. Failed Desiree and Lauren. But this won’t take the pain away of what happened to you. To them,” Prentiss implores.

“No … but at least there’s some justice,” she hisses, the blade digging in just enough to draw a bead of blood on his neck.

“But is it really? Justice?” you ask as you lower your gun. Prentiss quickly looks at you and wonders what the hell you’re doing.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” she bites back, puffing her chest out arrogantly. “With him gone, that makes three less rapists in the world.”

“Alright. Let me ask it like this.” You hold your hand up as you put your gun away. Arnold remained engaged. “Does it feel like justice to you?”

She blinks her eyes several times and looks around the room, passing over Prentiss and the officers without focus. Your question stumps her. You can see how she is struggling to reconcile what justice means to her. You could even see the face mask crinkling as she was trying to find her words.

You nod with understanding, your eyes betraying the same conflict that Arnold has in trying to reconcile the feelings of violation and anger right now. You fight the shiver that threatens to run down your spine, needing to stand firm as the two of you share the same haunted look that does not go unnoticed by Prentiss.

“It’s doesn’t. It never will, Sandra. Even if you were able to find the one that hurt you, that you do this to him and declare justice in victory, through their death,” you slowly motion with your hand to the guy on the cart, “you’re trying to find peace.” You lick your lips as your throat tightens, regaining the control you need to get through to Sandra. “But there’s no peace.” You shrug tearfully. “It never comes. It never will. You just … have to find a way to live for yourself. Every day. Every hour. Every minute. You just have to find the strength to survive.”

You watch as Sandra’s throat bobs up and down several times as you all wait to see how this will go. Will she surrender or cause someone to pull their trigger and end this stalemate.

But then you hear her sniff as she blinks back tears. “You know.”

A statement that you affirm with a nod. “I do.”

She fights back a sob. “I was really trying to help them …”

Your watery eyes soften as you sadly smile. “I know.”

And it was in that moment that Arnold made her decision to step back, letting the scalpel fall to the floor with a loud clang. SWAT immediately went in to put cuffs on her and read her rights as you vaguely were aware of Prentiss calling in for a medic. Right now you are focused on watching Arnold being escorted away. The two of you kept eye contact, her watching you over her shoulder until more officers came running in to obscure the view.

“Hey…” Prentiss voice was like a loud boom that went off by your ear. The anxiety of forcing yourself to come back from such raw memories heightened everything around you.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah.” You look passed Prentiss as a group of officers’ start assessing MacDonald.

She places a hand on your shoulder and since you didn’t flinch, she squeezes. “You did good getting her to surrender.”

There was a lot to unpack with what happened here. The enigma that you are just grew with what Prentiss learned tonight. It already started with the faraway look you had holding the restraints back at Arnold’s office. This unsettling revelation amplified so many questions that Prentiss wanted to know about you.

“Thanks,” you say, offering a forced half smile at her. “Better than her getting shot, right?”

She drops her hand and nods. “Yeah. She’ll get the help she needs.”

At that you laugh shakily. “Remains to be seen, but yeah. Hope so.” You felt conflicted about knowing that MacDonald was going to live because you understood where Arnold was coming from. There was a reason you didn’t share with Sandra that you personally rid yourself of your abuser. You would have lost the connection of trust built on shared trauma.

Prentiss watches you shambling off, unsettled with how your eyes had lost its luster. Seeing you sullen and devoid of your usual concealing humor was concerning.

Prentiss catches up with you after giving out last minute directives to secure the area until forensics arrive. Emergency lights flash brightly as officers were carrying out orders. Robles was here delegating tasks to where his people would contain the crime scene in and outside the building. You heard MacDonald moaning as the paramedics guided the gurney passed you to the ambulance. Whatever they had given him started to get the guy into some conscious awareness.

Rossi was waiting outside waiting for the two of you with a satisfied smile. “Sorry I’m late, but clearly you didn’t need me.”

You had stopped off to the side of Prentiss with hands tucked into your vest, your attention on watching Arnold being put into the backseat of a squad car.

“Whitlock talked Arnold down.” Prentiss explains with a small nod your way.

“How ‘bout that.” His smile grows and fights to catch your eyes. He raises a brow in question if he should push things, but Prentiss lightly shakes her head no. Getting the hint, he shifts gears. “Should we pull an all-nighter to tie things up on our end?”

“Might as well. I’d like to get the hell outta here. How about you?” She looks at you still staring off. “Whitlock?”

You didn’t acknowledge her, and Prentiss calls out your first name. That jars your attention as this was the first time you heard her say it. “Yeah?”

Rossi smiles patiently. He knew Whitlock was a seasoned officer but everyone’s first case with the BAU had a track record of rattling an agent. “We’re going to the station to get things squared away so we can hand it off to local PD. Sound good?”

You nod firmly with a tight smile. “Definitely.”

“It’s unfortunate this case’s a bust regarding Sicarius.”

“True. Maybe JJ and the others fared better.” Prentiss nods in agreement as both her and Rossi watch you wander off to the SUV.

“What happened in there that spooked her?” Rossi asks, moving closer to speak with Prentiss.

It didn’t feel right to explain it so candidly what you had gone through. It was best that Rossi read what the official reports said that you and she would write up. Anything more just invites a difficult conversation that she knew you wouldn’t be ready for. There was a burgeoning trust that had sparked between the two of you over drinks and she didn’t want to fuck that up.

“I think she just needs some time.” She watches you climb into the driver’s seat. “Like we all do when shit happens.”

You were sitting alone on one of the four seaters close to the window as the pilot confirmed you were at a safe altitude to move around the cabin. Rossi was passed out on the couch and Prentiss had just gotten up to head to the back of the plane.

You barely noticed, too focused on the music playing in your earbuds as you debated how to answer the text from Brian.

Dad sent 0330: How are things going?

You got that at the station over an hour ago and made a note to answer once the BAU wrapped things up. You were grateful that Prentiss and Rossi took the lead on what was needed to secure the case and that their official reports would be completed midweek. You tried to make mental notes on these protocols but your mind was elsewhere. Once you all signed off on what was required onsite, you drove the team back to the hotel to pack up and then it was off to the airstrip. An officer met you there to take the loaned vehicle.

You barely said a word except what was necessary. You hardly smiled. There were no quips, and you offered non-committal, I’m fines, when the two of them asked how you were. Prentiss was already piecing things further silently and was concerned. There was no way that a crime like this rattled you like Rossi had presumed. She knew you had seen far worse, and she can imagine in great detail what those situations were, having lived through many herself. You just hadn’t anticipated old wounds being ripped open with memories of darker times in your life to surface that made you feel like that lost tween Brian had recruited.

A soft thunk on the table startles you and you see Prentiss taking a seat across from you. There were two tumblers of whiskey before the both of you.

You stop the music with a furrowed brow in silent question. Prentiss explains gently. “Rough day. Thought you could use one.”

“Uh, yeah.” You take the glass to swirl the liquid around. “Though, isn’t it a bit early to drink?”

She shrugs. “Not in our line of work.”

You bring the glass up to your lips with a cleansing breath and figured, why not? You note the smell of whiskey and … “Did you just make me a Jack and Diet Coke?”

Prentiss’ head tilts slightly to the side, pleased you noticed. “I did.”

You raise your glass and give her your first genuine smile since talking Arnold down. “Thanks. Really.”

You both take a well-deserved drink and close your eyes at the warm burn that moves down your throat before radiating towards the rest of your body. You didn’t immediately relax, but the thoughtful gesture helps to provide focus. Enough so you found the strength to really look at Prentiss. You’ve seen enough as her brown eyes narrow in concentration, working on how to broach the unspoken but known.

You quickly lick your lips and set down the glass in a rush. “Don’t.”

Prentiss cautiously questions your reaction. “Don’t what?”

“Look at me like that. With pity.” You curl a hand into a fist to stop it from visibly shaking, but you watch in dismay that Prentiss already spots it.

She remains resolute in maintaining a steady eye contact once she has yours and emits a level of comfort and understanding. “It’s not pity. It’s understanding …”

Your felt your stomach sink, your chest tighten as a breath of surprise escapes without permission. You attempt to recover by clearing your throat and ask with hesitation. “Um. Really?”

That was a such a fucking dumb response to a monumental admission. Prentiss took the need for affirmation in stride. “Really.”

You pinch your brows and swallow hard, your lips trembling ever so slightly. “Well …that really fucking sucks.”

Prentiss chuckles bitterly. “Ain’t that the truth.” She opens a compartment under the table and pulls out a deck of cards. Tapping the case on the table, skilled fingers open the lid to remove the cards and starts shuffling. The methodical way she splits the deck and layers it back together with a rippling noise was comforting to you. “Did you wanna talk about it?”

You shrug still watching slender fingers be in complete control of the cards. “Do you really need to ask?”

“Well, it’s usually polite.” Her face scrunches up coyly.

You half snort and appreciate what she’s attempting to do. You finally look up at her. “What’re we playing?”

“Anything you want. Gin, poker, cribbage…?”

“Well, Rossi’s sleeping.” You sit up just enough to confirm he still was and sit back down. You thoughtfully rub your cheek as Prentiss finishes shuffling. Her compassion had truly touched you and even though your emotions were not fully boxed up as tightly you liked, you decided to say fuck it and have some fun. You waggle your brows, showing Prentiss you were feeling a little better. “There’s always strip poker.”

Prentiss cackles and you shush her, waving your hand to lower her voice. She starts dealing for a five-card draw. “There’s the Whitlock I know.”

You take each card that comes your way to sort them in your hand after rolling your eyes. “Figure you were missing her. I know you just love my antics.”

She wouldn’t admit it just yet, but she was. She fans the cards in her hand and studies them. “Possibly.”

You fall into companionable silence taking turns picking up cards, sipping your drinks, and showing your hands. You play several rounds and the two of you end up being even for wins and losses.

It was your turn to shuffle and you off-handedly ask a question that’s been on your mind. “Did they get the guy that hurt you?”

The two of you gaze intently as she slides her cards over. “Yes.”

You set the deck between you and reach for your glass. “Is he dead?”

The answer is immediate. “Yes.”

You take a healthy swallow as you debate on asking your next question. You slide your tongue along the front and back of your top teeth and find the courage to ask. “Did you kill him?”

She shakes her head no. “Someone else pulled the trigger.”

You lean back, shoulders slumping forward as the small similarities that could exist between two survivors ends. You fiddle with the cards, forcing them to ripple against the table as Prentiss waits you out calmly.

“I pulled the trigger,” you confess quietly. “I didn’t have to do it. But I wanted to. So … I did.”

With no response from Prentiss, you dare to look up but see no judgement, just an attentive listener that sought whatever you wanted to reveal.

“It’s partially why I was recruited.” That admission caught both of you by surprise and you try to backpedal. “I … fuck. I shouldn’t have said that.” You roughly sit up and lean over the table to get your cards in order. You’re such a fucking idiot!

“Hey, it’s alright,” she says gently. “I won’t say anything.” She could tell you weren’t convinced by how your eyes darkened with fear. She reaches out to lightly touch your arm and was glad you didn’t pull away. The warmth of her fingers soothed the fast-paced beating of your heart for fucking up again. Though this one was far worse than letting slip up about the AWOL matter. You really should have cut Rebecca off when she mentioned it and not join in the frivolity.

She takes a chance and squeezes your arm. “Promise. It’s like you keeping the sleepovers in my office a secret.”

Prentiss’ cheeky remark made you smile. Then you chuckle. “Okay, to be fair? You sleeping on your office couch isn’t a national secret.”

“Work with me here, Whitlock.”

“I am!”

You both share a smile and when Prentiss starts to pull away, you place your cards face up so you can cover her hand. She found it impossible to hide the astonishment at your gesture. “Thanks, Emily.”

She pauses for the right words to say, further touched by using her first name. She softly says yours and simply adds. “You’re welcome.” Then brown eyes look to the hand you gave up and tsks at you.

You’re confused. Did you do something wrong? “What?”

“Honey, you gave up a pair of aces.” She gestures to the cards as you both finally untangle your hands.

“Well, fuck me, I did.” You chuckle and pull out your phone after sliding the cards to Prentiss. “Here, get us started. Just gotta check in with Brian.” You point an accusing finger at the section chief. “And you especially can’t tell him anything about this conversation.”

She scrunches her face playfully. “What conversation?”

You grin brightly. “Exactly.” And then finally type up a simple response to Brian.

Whitlock sent 0527: Going very well.

Chapter 9

@unkonw00 @ara-a-bird @rayisaknight @sevyscoven @maybe-a-humanbean

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #criminal minds evolution #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x female reader #prometheus #emily x you #emily x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x you #emily prentiss fanfiction

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loversatthegreatdivide · 1 year ago

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Heavy Lies the Heart - Chapter 2

Masterlist // Continue Reading

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!OC Word Count: 3.2k Tropes: mutual pining, fluff, angst with a happy ending, royalty Warnings: death Summary: When two second-borns looking for direction meet by chance, can they find purpose in each other? Or will circumstance keep them apart? A/N: I do not necessarily intent to update this everyday, but then again I won't complain about it when I'm motivated enough to make it happen. Also, just as a side note: My knowledge of the British aristocracy and the laws of inheritance in England at this particular time are shaky at best. Some things I will research because I feel like I can't leave it alone, but in this case I honestly do not care how historically accurate every single detail is. Again, Bridgerton is an AU, so I'll do what I want.

Benedict slumped down on the settee, arms crossed and his brow furrowed. He was all but lying down with how far he had sunk, and as he half-lay in his seat, his mind raced.

He was frustrated.

It had been days since the Danbury ball, and yet he was no closer to discovering the identity of the enchanting young woman he had met there. In these past few days, she had occupied more space in his mind than he was comfortable admitting. He needed to see her again--or at the very least learn her name.

He had been through every family he could possibly think of, but all had been dead ends. Not that he was familiar with every household in the ton, but certainly his mother had briefed him on many of the households with eligible debutantes. He thought surely one must be the home of his mystery woman.

Anthony strolled into the drawing room, an eyebrow lifting as he looked over at his brother.

"What's got you brooding so?" he asked, taking a seat next to Colin at the small, round table that had been laid out with confections. He took a jelly tart for himself as he eyed Benedict from his seat.

"I do not brood brother--you are the one that broods," Benedict corrected, wiggling himself further down the settee, "I am pouting at best."

"Then what has you pouting so, Benedict?" Colin chimed in, setting the book he had been reading aside.

Benedict thought for a moment about telling them. They were his brothers after all, and there was the possibility one of them may even have some insight into the young lady's identity.

He thought better of it almost as soon as the thought entered his mind.

There was the potential to gain valuable information yes, but the ribbing he would receive in return would be never-ending. And there was the risk of the information reaching his mother's ear. He shuttered to think what she would do if she believed he was actively seeking a wife--he saw how she was with Anthony last season.

He certainly didn't want anyone in his family to presume something so ludicrous as his desire to marry--he wasn't looking for a wife, he was only curious.

Yes, curiosity. That was all.

He decided it wasn't worth the trouble; not yet, at least. While he had no luck finding her again, at the very least he knew she was aware of him. There was a chance she may seek him out, however slim it may be. And it seemed very likely she would attend the next ball. A debutante newly introduced in society could hardly be kept from every dance and social engagement held throughout the season. Even if she herself had seemed less than taken with the last event, there was surely a pestering mama in the picture that was pushing her forward regardless.

So he would wait to speak of it with his family until he had no other options.

"I was just thinking longingly of the peace and quiet in the house while the two of you were away," he joked, his hands moving dramatically to press together, as if in prayer.

"Well now I know you're lying," Anthony smirked, "Since when did you enjoy peace and quiet?"

"It certainly sounds out of character," Colin agreed, "Perhaps he simply enjoyed having fewer people around to catch him leaving for his nightly excursions."

"Yes Colin, I think you're right," the eldest brother replied. Benedict scowled, finally sitting up straight as to address his brothers at eye-level.

"That is quite the accusation, dear brother. Care to defend it on the piste?" Benedict challenged.

Colin smirked, "Careful brother--I'm stronger than I used to be."

"Well then, perhaps after another trip abroad you may finally pose a challenge for me," Benedict quipped, "Shall you join as well Anthony? You wouldn't want to miss our younger brother's humiliating defeat."

"He has been rather big-headed since his return, it would be nice to watch his ego deflate," Anthony grinned over at Colin, "For his own sake as well as ours."

"Would the two of you like to back up your boasting, or shall we sit and discuss it for another hour?" Colin huffed. Anthony and Benedict exchanged knowing smiles.

"Very well then," Benedict said as he rose from his seat, "Shall we then?"

The three brothers exited the room, pushing each other lightly and laughing as they headed for the back garden.

---

Beatrice slumped forward in her chair, frowning as her unfocused gaze fell to the bookshelves that lined the far wall. Her chin sat balanced on one hand, as the other absentmindedly fiddled with a page in the large book that lay on the table in front of her. She knew she would be reprimanded if her tutor--or worse, her grandmother--saw her slouching, but she was too bored to concern herself with it at the moment. She sighed, glancing down at the page she held between her fingers.

As the second child of the Prince Regent, Beatrice was fourth in line for the throne--soon to be fifth, once Charlotte's child was born. She no longer needed to prepare for a hypothetical future where she would someday need to step up and become queen. Yet still, her father insisted she continue her studies while forcing her to follow his excessively strict rules. Even convincing him to allow her stay at Buckingham House had been a struggle. Luckily, her father was rather a pushover when it came to his mother, and when the queen had insistent Beatrice be allowed to stay for the season he could hardly say no.

She straighten, only to slid down into her chair. It's not as if she disliked the act of learning altogether. There had been many times when she felt she had truly enjoyed her lessons, having looked forward to more than one. But there were others that felt rather pointless; just tedious memorization that she would never have need for even if she were to become queen.

Studying the crest and founder of all the current noble houses, along with the family tree going back at least three generations, was not exactly thrilling.

She had found some enjoyment when she first started, flipping immediately to the section concerning a family she was now quite interested in. It did somehow feel a little like snooping, and she felt a bit guilty looking through Benedict's family history. However, she told herself it was all public knowledge, and after all it was a part of her studies.

She learned quite a lot about the family--their crest, the first Viscount's name and history, and of course the family as it stands now. It was a surprise to learn Benedict had seven siblings; she couldn't even begin to image having such a large family. Then again, her father was one of fifteen children, so perhaps eight was not so unreasonable.

After learning all she could about the Bridgertons, she moved on. She was less enthusiastic about learning anything at all about the other households, and soon she found her thoughts drifting.

It had been a few days since the ball. Beatrice had been the one to ask if she could attend, and at the time truly thought she would enjoy going. She hoped she may make a friend--possibly even two. She had been so isolated as a child, and her sister had always been little company to her. It would have been nice to talk to people her own age.

However, she had not expected she would cause such a frenzy. She hadn't realized how little people saw of the royal family at such events--with the exception of the queen, of course. It made Beatrice too conspicuous. She was a shining light of hope representing the next generation of the monarchy.

Then of course, there were the men. Knowing nothing about her, yet treating her like a prized mare up for auction. She supposed even as the second child, she must seem appealing to them. The crown may be out of reach, but her future husband would still be a prince--and of course, there was the considerable amount of riches she had access to as a member of the royal household.

Perhaps that's why she had been so taken with Benedict Bridgerton.

He had clearly not known who she was. Perhaps he had arrived late, or been out of the room when she had been announced alongside her grandmother. Either way, he seemed truly clueless to the title she carried. It made him seem so genuine compared to the others she had met that night. It had been so refreshing to be treated as her own person, rather than a royal. It may well be his motivations were less than pure, but at the very least he seemed like an honest person. Perhaps more prone to humorous banter, but still so sincere when it was needed.

This left her with a rather vexing problem.

On the one hand, he would certainly learn her identity sooner or later. It made sense to simply tell Benedict now rather than hide it from him, which may go poorly when he did eventually discover the truth. On the other hand, she had enjoyed their conversation immensely, and if he found out she was a princess after only a single meeting, he would likely feel the obligation to treat her just as everyone else did. She would lose her one chance to have a real connection with someone that wasn't singularly focused on her proximity to the throne.

If she wanted to continue hiding her title from him, she would need to find a way to see him. If they built up a friendship first, perhaps once he did learn the truth he would be less inclined to treat her differently. She was nearly guaranteed to see him at the next ball, but then she would once again be announced as a princess. Whatever had caused him to miss her entrance at the first ball, she had doubts that it would happen a second time.

With that being the case, she either had to wait and see him at the next ball, holding out hope he may continue to act as he had before even after learning the truth. Or, she had to see him outside of a ballroom. She couldn't bare the thought of losing an opportunity for real friendship, but of course she would never be allowed to leave Buckingham House on her own. This left her with only one option.

She would have to sneak out.

---

Benedict lounged lazily on the sill of his bedroom window. His head leaned back against the wood of the frame as he gazed out over the lamp lit streets below. In his lap sat his sketchbook, filled with half-finished sketches of a lovely young woman whose face he just couldn't quite capture.

Spending the afternoon with his brothers had been a nice reprieve from his mind, but night had fallen and now he was alone. There was nothing to stop his thoughts from wandering every corner of London, searching for a girl he hardly knew. Benedict threw his sketchbook to the floor with a groan, rubbing his charcoal stained hands down his face in frustration.

He felt ridiculous, being so overcome with thoughts of someone he barely knew. The mystery and intrigue of it all certainly played a part in his curiosity, but he would be lying if he said it had nothing to do with the girl herself. Such circumstances made her a novelty to be sure, but she had exhibited qualities he had not often see from those of the ton. He had replayed their conversation a hundred times in his mind, and he was now sure that he knew at least something of her character.

To Benedict, she had seemed a well of profound, thoughtful emotion. She felt things deeply and was not ashamed to show it. This was in contrast to so many in his social class, who held propriety above all things--even their own feelings.

She had been shy, but still wasn't quite as naive as he may have first thought. She was clearly kind, but that didn't stop her from being quick-witted when she saw the occasion for it.

It had been such a short amount of time, but what he had learned of her had only fueled a desire to learn more.

Perhaps most interesting was that her insecurities seemed to match his own perfectly. He had been feeling rather useless following Anthony's return, and from what she had said she felt quite the same about her own situation. He had never expected to find a kindred spirit in one of the young ladies of the ton.

Not that Benedict thought them all completely incapable of deeper thought, it was only that his situation as a second-son was rather obviously specific only to sons. A woman could not inherit her families title even if she were the first born child, so it was unlikely to find one so worried over her place within the family hierarchy. It was their future husband's title that truly mattered.

He didn't know enough about the young lady's family to know for sure, but he supposed if her family had only daughters it would be up to the eldest to marry well to secure their family's title and estate. A second daughter would inevitably leave once she was wed, leading him to believe his mysterious young lady must also be quite loyal to worry about her family so.

Perhaps that was something to think on.

---

Benedict, so caught up in his own mind, failed to notice when the very woman occupying his thoughts appeared on the street below him.

She pulled the hood closer to her face as she looked up at him, his shadowed profile gazing up at the stars. He was difficult to make out in the low light, but she was quite certain it was him.

Benedict Bridgerton.

She was thankful to arrive having drawn no unnecessary attention. This time, she wore a less conspicuous dress than she had at the ball. It was made of a pale green fabric, cut in the popular style the other ladies of the ton were wearing. She had worn a silken, violet cloak over top so she was able to hide her face from view. Perhaps walking around covering her face was in itself a suspicious act, but anyone who may look at her strangely for it would have no opportunity to get a good look at her face, which was all that concerned her.

She may have avoided notice so far, but she faced a new problem: How was she to draw Benedict's eye without also drawing the attention of passersby on the street? She could not simply call out to him, but them he would need to be looking down at the street to alert him quietly. Frustratingly, at the moment he seemed content looking up at the sky, rather than down to earth.

She had only one other idea.

---

As Benedict sat deep in thought, he was roused by a small clank on the wall near his window. Before he had the chance to turn his head, something small and hard smacked him in the forehead. The surprise caused him to lose his balance, his body rocking back and forth in the open window. When he at last steadied himself, he rubbed his forehead, looking down to find whomever it was that had struck him.

A woman in a hooded cloak looked back up at him, gloved hands raised to her mouth in a look of surprise and worry.

Once she realized she had his attention, she pulled back her hood, and Benedict felt his heart jump to his throat.

It was her.

She was really here.

This time, the shock did cause him to tumble over, though thankfully landing on his bedroom floor rather than the street below. He scrambled to the window, popping his head out as he gripped the sill. She had one hand to her lips, her shoulders shaking as she tried to stifle a laugh. She quickly beckoned for him to come down before turning, pulling her hood back to it's place atop her golden curls.

Benedict fumbled as he stood, grabbing his coat and gloves from their place discarded on his bed as he all but ran out of the room. He nearly barreled straight into Anthony as he flew down the stairs, one arm in his jacket.

Anthony gave Benedict a suspicious look, "And where are you going in such a rush?"

"Out," Benedict replied simply, sliding his free arm through the empty sleeve.

"Out where?" Anthony asked, annoyed.

"Just out," Benedict reiterated, "Honestly brother, do you truly want to know?"

Anthony sighed, "No, I suppose I don't." He gave his brother a stern look, "Just be sure our mother doesn't catch you--I have to hear enough from her about Colin as it is."

Benedict smiled. He grabbed Anthony's face between his hands and gave his cheek a quick kiss, "Thank you brother!" Anthony made a disgusted noise, knocking Benedict's hands away, "This is why you're my favorite elder brother," he added as he began descending the rest of the staircase.

"I'm your only elder brother!" Anthony shot back, shaking his head as he turned away, continuing his way up to the second floor.

Benedict grinned from ear to ear as he burst through the doors of Bridgerton House. He turned when he reached the street, catching sight of her as she fidgeted with her hands nervously. His smile softened as he watched her, though in truth he was beginning to feel quite nervous himself. Benedict started to move toward her, and soon enough she caught sight of him. He smiled at her, his stomach doing somersaults when she shyly smiled back. They stood there in silence for a long moment, taking each other in.

"You're here," Benedict commented at last.

"Ah, yes...I am," she smiled as she glanced down briefly, "It's good to see you again, Mister Bridgerton--and I am quite sorry, about the rock." He looked at her in confusion, until she quickly pointed to her forehead and he realized her meaning.

"Oh! Was that what that was? It's no bother--after all, I can think of far worse things you could have thrown at me." The back of her fingers pressed lightly to her lips as she laughed. He smiled, feeling emboldened by her response to his rather silly joke, "Though, if you truly wanted to make it up to me, you could start by telling me your name?"

She looked surprised, "Oh, right. Of course. I suppose I did fail to give it to you when we spoke before."

"Yes, and I must say I've been taking it quite personally," he said, his lower lip pouting as he looked at her in mock sadness. She smiled.

"Well, I would hate to think I had caused you any pain," she joked, and he grinned back. "You may call me Beatrice."

----------

Tags: @empressnatsume

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x oc #bridgerton #heavy lies the heart #loversatthegreatdivide #my writing

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thetriumphantpanda · 2 years ago

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it's new, the shape of your body | javier peña

Take The Weight Off His Shoulders - Chapter Five

Chapter Summary | A dead end following a lead at work leaves you tense, with Javi only too happy to help you destress.

Chapter Warnings | Mention of drugs, drug related violence and the drugs trade. Zero knowledge of how journalists find information in the 90s but we ride with it. Explicit smut, these two do some stuff in public that the lord wouldn't approve, fingering, Javi is a dirty talking menace.

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.5K

Authors Note | So, as well as being a sexy little dbf!Javi fic, this also has another overarching plot that I'm starting to introduce in this chapter - I really hope you like the addition of this other part of the story, as well as these two finally getting it on! Another huge shoutout to @undercoverpena who has been such a rock with this chapter, helping me smooth out the kinks to get it to where I wanted it to be. Thank you for the support so far. If you're enjoying this then reblogs and comments really do help and if you’d like to support me further, please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi.

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist

There’s a spring in your step when you walk into work on Monday. You’d spent all of Sunday is some sort of daze, thinking about what had happened with Javi and all the things that he’d promised you over the phone. You let your hand wander a little on Sunday night, bringing yourself off to his promise of showing you exactly what you’d been missing, so much so that the lack of sleep from keeping yourself awake didn’t bother you as you sat down at your desk, taking out your notes to start working on the piece for the newspaper about the drugs bust in town last week.

“You seem more chipper this morning,” Your boss muses, setting down a mug of coffee next to you like she always does each morning, “You sleeping better?”

The answer is no, not really, just that you’re awake for a far better reason that pining for your dad’s buddy, now you’re awake because he wants you just as much as you want him and those daydreams and the visions that come to you in your dreams are far nicer to deal with than the wondering of if you were going to make a fool out of yourself in front of him.

“Yeah, much better, thanks,” You smile, picking up the mug to take a sip, “I’m gonna start working on the bust story today, hopefully it’ll be ready by the end of the day.”

She places a hand on your shoulder and gives you a squeeze, “Nice work,” She smiles back at you, “Your stories have been really well received recently.”

She leaves you to it, letting you open your notebook, you rip the old pages out, lie them out on the desk in front of you, picking up a pen, putting it to the fresh page to start formulating the bare bones of the story.

It’s easy to start with the facts.

1. There’s a house in town had been involved in a police raid.

2. A large amount of both cocaine and marijuana had been seized.

3. The house had been empty.

4. The police had spoken to the neighbours.

You circle the last point on your notepad: no-one could figure out who would be responsible for storing that amount of drugs at the address. Staring at it, seeing it in a new order, your brain begins to think, wondering about how you might be able to dig deeper.

Something, the instinct that made all of this possible, tells you to start with who owns the house. Fingers typing, suddenly remembering that you’d overheard your dad talking with your mom a few days ago about how they’d tried that avenue and come up at a loss down at the station, but not why.

Opening the webpage for the public records for the county, your fingers drill in the address, clicking on the search result that pops up. Leaning forward in your chair, chin propped on your palm, you scan the information in front of you. There’s a list of everyone who had ever owned the address since it was built, starting from the first all the way down to the last, which is where you realise what the dead end is. The last owner was dead. Had been for almost a year, and the property was waiting to go up for sale again, which meant whoever had been storing the drugs in the house was squatting.

You let out a frustrated sigh, because if the police can’t figure it out from here then what makes you think you can. Except, when you sit there, tapping your fingers against the desk in frustration and realise you’d been there. You’d been in that house a few months ago with Liv, who had dragged you to some kind of party.

Almost automatically you’re reaching for the phone and dialing the number you’ve got memorized for her. She picks up on the third ring.

“Hello, this is Laredo insurance, you’re speaking to Liv, how can I help?”

You bite back a giggle at her customer service voice, it’s so unlike the girl you really know, “Hello bestie,” You greet, which has her gasping down the phone.

“Oh my god have I forgotten a lunch date?” She asks.

“No, it’s okay, don’t panic,” You say, “It’s a really random question, but you know that party we went to a few months ago, do you know who hosted it?”

You can hear her clicking her tongue in the background as she thinks, “I can’t even remember who invited us,” She sighs, as do you, “I think I just heard about it from someone, who’d heard about it from someone else.”

“God damn it.” You mumble, head in your hand.

“Is it important?”

“I don’t know,” You answer honestly, “It was the place that got busted last week, and I’m just trying to do some digging, but it’s okay, I’m sure if it’s meant to be I’ll figure it out.”

“I have every faith in you,” You can tell she’s smiling on the other end, “Listen, I gotta bounce, but how about we do drinks later on this week?”

“Sounds good, phone me later and we can sort it out.”

“Alright, bye bestie!”

You laugh and wish her a goodbye, deciding you’ve gone as far as you can with this for today. You save what you have of the story, thinking you could send it to your boss for approval as is, but deep down you know there’s something here you can pull on, something bigger than just busting a house full of drugs and taking them off the streets to be dealt, so you keep it to yourself for the rest of the day.

“I’m heading out,” Your boss speaks as she walks past your desk on the way out, “Did you get the story finished?”

A smile thrown her way in response, trying to cover the fact that you want more time, “Almost,” You speak, “Just a few more tweaks and a couple of things I want to check, but I’ll get it to you as soon as I can.”

She nods, seemingly pleased that you’re wanting to make it as perfect as possible, “No rush, we can hold it for a few days until you’re happy with it.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“Well, you have yourself a good evening and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You wish her the same, watching as she heads out, leaving you in the office alone. You sigh, annoyed that there’s nothing further you can really do. You save the document, gathering your things and deciding you can worry about what to do next tomorrow.

When you emerge from the front door of the office and look across the parking lot to your car, you’re taken aback to find Javier’s truck parked in the space right next to it. He’s leaning against the driver’s side of the truck, casual as anything, with his ankles crossed over each other and his arms crossed over his chest. He notices you stood still, motions you with his head to come over.

Your feet carry you across the parking lot, shoulders heavy with stress and that niggling feeling that you’ve been missing something all day, the one thing that’s going to make you realise what’s going on, but seeing Javi slip his aviators off his face and tuck them into his shirt, shooting a smile your way, you feel a little better.

“What are you doing here?”

He shrugs, in that cool, casual way that he always does, “Wanted to see you,” He reaches out, taking your hand in his to pull you closer, but does so whilst looking around, making sure no-one either of you know can see you, “Wanted to do this.”

Then he leans down, presses his lips to yours, one hand cradling your cheek. It’s different to the kiss at the ranch, it’s not rushed. He keeps his lips pressed against your own for a while, pulling away, but planting one right on your forehead as he leans back against the car.

You bite your bottom lip between your teeth, smiling a little as you feel the temperature rise across your face, “How did you know what time I finished?”

“Lucky guess,” He shrugs, “Thought if you didn’t come out within an hour I’d have just gone home, tried again tomorrow.”

“You would have waited for me for an hour?” You chuckle, leaning against your own car behind you.

“Yeah,” He nods with a smile, “Would wait a lot longer but you know how it is, things to do.”

You settle your back against the passenger side of your car, rubbing a hand up one of your arms, “You seem tense,” Javi observes, “What’s up?”

You consider telling him the whole story, but there’s something niggling in the back of your mind that this is something you should keep to yourself for a while, just until you can try digging for more information first. If you keep drawing up blanks then you can ask him, see if his expertise can offer any ideas, but for now, you keep it vague.

“It’s just work,” You shrug, “Deadlines and stuff, but I’ll be okay.”

You watch him look at you, those beautiful brown eyes looking directly into your own, his mouth pulled into a smirk, “You wanna take a drive?” He asks, head tilting to his truck, “Let me help with some of that stress.”

That familiar pool of arousal is settling in your tummy, excitement thrumming through your veins at what he means. He wants to touch you, and God do you want to touch him right back. But it’s getting late, and you know you’re parents are going to wonder where you are soon enough. There’s not enough time to go driving around, but you think there’s just enough time for something else.

You grin back at him, reaching to grasp his wrist in your hand, somewhat aware of how big he is when you can’t fit your fingers all the way round it. You drag him back across the parking lot, and down the side of the your office building. It’s a small alley, definitely not the most romantic spot, but at least it doesn’t smell, and unless someone is coming looking, you’re not going to be disturbed, most people having gone home from the offices on either side of you.

You go down just far enough that you’re in the shadows, far enough that even if someone did wander past, you’re going to be hidden as much as possible. You drop his hand as you lean back against the brick wall, staring at him as he takes a step closer to you, hands settling on your waist.

“You want me here?” He speaks lowly, bringing his face closer to yours, so close that you could reach up on your toes and kiss him, but you want to see if he breaks first.

You nod your head, tipping it back against the brick, shoving your hips off the wall as some kind of hint to him, “What do you want, hermosa?”

“Want you to touch me, Javi.” You breathe, leaning up just a touch so he can feel the breath from your lips across his.

“But I already am.” He smirks, eyes flitting to where his hands are resting on your hips.

With a roll of your eyes, you reach your own hand down your body, coming to rest of the waistband of your work trousers. You motion your head a little, dragging Javi’s eyes down to where your hand is resting on the button of your trousers, making sure he’s watching when you pop it open, dragging the zip down and then leaving it like that.

His own hand trails from your right hip, warm fingers brushing the skin you’ve revealed, but he doesn’t move them further, just lets his fingers rest on the skin as he brings his lips to your jaw, kissing softly from your chin, all the way up to the delicate skin behind your ear, “Want me to touch you here?” He all but growls into your ear as his hand sinks beneath your trousers, wide palm cupping you through your underwear, bringing a gasp from your throat, “Yeah, sounds like you do baby.”

You bring your hands up to rest on his shoulders – something to grip onto as his fingers trace along the seam of your pussy through the thin cotton of your panties. His touch is gentle, but the way his mouth is pressing hot and wet to the skin across your neck is anything but. It’s searing, and exciting, and wrong but in all the right ways.

“If I dip my fingers under here,” He asks, fingers toying with the elastic of your panties, “You gonna be wet for me, querida?”

“W-why don’t you find out?” You choke out, feeling him smile against the skin of your neck as his fingers dip just below the waistband of your panties, fingers dragging over the curls on your mound, down lower, until they’re so close to where you want them.

He dips his fingers through your folds, slipping them into you so easily. Your mouth drops open, his own so close to yours that you could feel his lips on yours as you moan, his fingers dragging out of you and up to your clit, where he starts gently circling.

“What’s got you all worked up, eh?” He asks, his other hand coming to grip your chin, forcing you to look at him, your mouth dropped open as he works his fingers across your clit, “Can’t just be from me right here,” He muses, “You been sat at your desk thinking about me?”

He presses his fingers more firmly across your clit, it feels so good, the way he’s working you, “T-think about you a-all the time.” You croak out from your throat, hips starting to move with his hand, needing something more.

“Naughty little thing,” He breathes into your ear, teeth nibbling lightly at your earlobe as his fingers drag from your clit back down to where you’re so slick for him, his fingers slipping back inside you, but curling up, finding a spot inside you that no-one had even shown you existed until now, “Feel good?” He asks, “You tell me what works, okay?”

You nod, two of his fingers working in and out of you. It feels good, but it’s nothing compared to the way he made you feel before, when his fingers trailed over your clit in little circles. You grip his wrist, “Outside,” You say simple, “Like how you were doing it before.”

He presses his lips to yours, dragging his fingers back up through your folds, using his middle finger to draw light circles over your swollen bundle of nerves, “Like this?” He asks, which is punctuated with a moan from your lips. It’s loud enough this time that his free hand is flying to cover your mouth with his palm, shushing you as he presses his body against yours, pinning you in place, his own excitement no longer hidden from you. You can feel the bulge of his cock through his jeans, pressing into your side as the movement of his fingers speeds up, just a touch.

Whilst it’s a familiar feeling – it’s the way you’re used to bringing yourself off, more often than not to the thought of the very man in front of you – there’s something so different about Javi being the one to have you dangling over the edge, teetering on the edge of pleasure just with his fingers.

“Tell me, bebita,” He coos into your ear, “Has anyone else ever made you come?”

His palm is still covering your mouth, so you can’t speak, so all you do is shake your head in response, watching as his eyes darken and he sticks his bottom lip out a little in a pout, “Poor girl,” He says, his middle finger speeding up just a touch again, pressing harder, “Shall we fix that?” He asks, which has you nodding your head so ferociously that it should be embarrassing, “Go on then,” He coaxes, “I know you’re close, just let go for me.”

If someone had told you months ago, before he’d reappeared in town, that Javier Peña would be the first man to make you cum, pressed against the brick wall of your office, with his hand clamped around your mouth to stop you from crying out, you’d have told them to get lost.

Your entire body shakes as your orgasm starts to ripple through you. White hot pleasure explodes across your lower body, your fingers dig into Javi’s shoulders, fisting the material of his shirt as he finally drops his hand from your mouth, gripping at your waist to keep your upright when the shaking of your legs threatens to topple you to the ground. His fingers are moving across you more slowly, but are adding just enough pressure to work you through those aftershocks, until it becomes too much.

Your forehead hits his shoulder, your hands wrapping around the breadth of his broadness as he drags his hand from your trousers, slipping both around your back to drag you into his body, “Did so good for me, querida.” He praises, rubbing a soothing hand up and down your spine through your shirt.

“Felt good.” You manage to mumble into the material covering his shoulder, pushing yourself back up and off him, hand trailing down his chest to try and touch him, return the favour, but he’s gripping your wrist to stop you.

“Not tonight,” He says, “Just wanted to make you feel good.”

“But-” You try to protest, but his grip on your wrist is strong and you can’t move it.

“I promise I’ll let you return the favour, but not tonight, okay?”

You nod your head. Javi brings his hands to your trousers, zipping them back up and pushing the button through the buttonhole. He tugs the hem of your shirt back into place, before he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. He glances at the watch on his wrist, clocking the time, “It’s late, querida,” He sighs, “We better get you on the road.”

And it’s a strange feeling, that this tiny little bubble is bursting so soon. You know it’s important to keep this under wraps, you’re sure no-one would be pleased to find out that Javier Peña, your dad’s friend, had been pinning you to a wall and coaxing an orgasm from you with his fingers, and there’s something about the secrecy of it all that makes it more exciting, but as you walk back to your respective vehicles, Javi so far away that you can’t reach out to touch him, it stings a little. Stings a little that you’re not going to get to be normal with him, that for now, your relationship, whatever that might be, is going to be kept secret, clandestine meetings and stolen glances wherever possible, when all you really want to do is grasp his hand in yours and shout to everyone that he belongs to you.

“We going to make this a habit?” You ask, unlocking your door and sliding into the drivers seat.

Javi keeps a hang on the top of the door, keeping it open for a while, “What?” He smirks, “Pressing you up against brick walls?”

“Pressing each other against brick walls,” You correct, “It’s your turn next time.”

He runs a ringer over his bottom lip, a habit you’ve known for years is something he does when he’s nervous or stressed, “I need you to know if I didn’t have to keep you a secret, I wouldn’t, okay?” You smile up at him, nodding your head, “I promise it won’t always have to be like this, but just for now, okay?”

“Okay,” You nod, “Now give me a kiss goodbye and let me go home.”

He does just that, leans down and gives you a kiss, one that you would class as proper this time, where he opens his mouth against yours, licks into your mouth, the coarse hair above his lip scratching lightly at your skin. He pulls away just a touch, pecking you on the lips once, then twice, then a final time, when you grip the collar of his shirt to keep him there just a little moment more.

“Go home, Javi.” You giggle when you finally let him go, “I’ll see you soon.”

He gives you a final chaste kiss to your lips then shuts your door for you, walking around your car to get in his truck. You wonder for a while if there’s going to a weird stand-off between the two of you, but he turns the key in his ignition and drives off with a final wave, leaving you to do the same.

When you pull up outside your home, you pull the mirror down, make sure nothing on your face gives away what you’d just been up to, smoothing down your hair. You take a second to take a few deep breaths, before you step out, going back to being the innocent daughter your parents still believe you to be.

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writingsbychlo · 2 years ago

Text

SWEET LIKE SUGAR | 03

summary; your first introductions don't go as planned, putting a dampener on some otherwise good news.

word count; 12,179

notes; y'all's patience for this has been incredible, it really has been a criminal amount of time since the last update. hopefully the next one comes sooner lol but enjoy!!

The many shopping bags dangling from your arms rustled as you hurried up the front steps of the new house you called home. Over a week had passed, a full week of your new life that was still taking some effort to get used to, and yet, things finally seemed to be looking up.

Clutched in your hands, the most prized of every new acquisition you’d made today. No matter how many paper bags filled with new clothes and decor hung from your tired arms, the small bakery box with four cupcakes inside was by far the best. This time next week, you’d be serving the cupcakes.

A real job, earning your own money, to pay your own way.

It was almost shocking, just how quickly your life had changed, how right Azriel had been about it. Doors that would have been shut to you as soon as you registered the house to be billed to, the district you’d lived in, were all open now. Sneers and stares had been swapped for smiles and polite greetings, and although you hated that prejudice had existed at all, Azriel was right.

You couldn't wait to tell him so.

Clearing the final few steps and teetering up the porch, the door swung open free of latch or key when you twisted the doorknob. Azriel was home, then.

You had hardly kicked off your shoes beside the door in your excitement, toeing it shut, when the voices from the living room finally met your ears. Your head was still spinning, nothing in you telling you to halt, or to consider just who the people Azriel might be meeting with were, before you were spinning around that corner, smile on your face, and coming face to face with the High Lord and the Commander of the Court’s armies.

Their gazes moved to you, Azriel’s back to you but he finally turned to look over his shoulder, the room falling silent as all attention moved to you, and your throat bobbed at the weight of it. Cassian shuffled on the couch, and Rhysand only adjusted the angle he was perched at on the arm, to look further around Azriel at you. His stare was piercing, assessing, and you found yourself shrinking under it a little, clearing your throat and dragging your gaze to your housemate.

“I’m so sorry for interrupting. I’ll come back later, Az. I’ll just head upstairs.” Your palms were sweating, but it didn’t feel right to just ignore the other people in the room, not when their presences alone were so powerful they practically filled it. Setting down one arm’s worth of shopping bags and the boxes of pastries carefully, you padded to the centre of the room, holding your hand out halfway between them. “High Lord, General. My apologies, again. It has been an honour to meet you both, though.”

Neither moved, both just stared, your arm trembling for just a second as the moment dragged on, and neither moved to shake your hand. After too many silent seconds, heat rose to your cheeks, and you pulled your hand back, stepping backwards a couple of steps. Perhaps it had been too informal, perhaps you’d offended them in some way, but when Rhysand gave a huff that sounded displeased, you were sure it wasn’t just you sensing the tension anymore.

“An honour, I’m sure.” The High Lord muttered, your eyes widening a little, gaze shooting to Azriel as he stepped up to your side, slipping the other bags from your hands as that one began to shake too, and setting them down with the rest.

“Rhysand!” Azriel snapped, a tone in his voice that you’d never heard before, and the shock of it only sent another bout of anxiousness coursing through you. “Be polite.”

His brother only shrugged casually, like he’d been asked the weather forecast, and picked at one of his cuticles, bored. “I am being polite. As polite as I can be, anyway.”

It was a lie, thick and heavy as that penetrating violet stare found you again. You’d heard the rumours, about how charming the High Lord of Night could be, and this certainly was not him. You tried another smile anyway, and shied your gaze away from the Lord to the General. He didn’t return it, only crossing his impressive arms over a powerful chest, his size a terrifying display, only made worse by his own glare.

Clammy sweat began to bead along your back, and you shuffled a little closer to Azriel’s side. His arm pressed to your own, the back of his palm brushing yours as it hung at his side, and it was enough comfort to at least take one deep lungful of air, before your ruler spoke again; “What is it that you want?”

“Huh?” It was impolite, and informal, but you were confused, the sound tumbling from you faster than you could stop it, and you only winced at the slight tensing of the man who’d asked it. His companion only snarled at your accidental impertinence.

“Cass…” Azriel growled back, low and under his breath, his fingers threading gently through your own. You clung to him, so tight you were sure you’d cut off blood flow, your knuckles likely white, but you needed him to anchor you right now.

“What, Azriel?” The tension was so thick it was stifling, you could hardly breathe. Your muscles were wound tight to stop your whole body from shaking, a nervous response, and yet somehow, you still felt like you were going to shatter at any moment. “You got yourself a fucking sugar baby! Excuse me for being concerned about what she actually wants from you!”

“She is not a sugar baby!” Your head spun, your body swaying a little, and you could’ve cried merely at Azriel’s defence of you. You could cry right now, anyway. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, every word forming too slowly in your head to stand up for yourself, to even understand what was going on. Thinking alone merely felt like wading through treacle, right now.

“So, you didn’t give her the money for whatever is in those shopping bags, then?” Rhysand waved a lazy hand at your purchases, your face flushing once again, and Cassian raised a brow in a challenge, both standing united against Azriel in their questioning. Against you.

Yes, technically, you supposed Azriel did pay, but—

“That’s what I thought.” Rhysand sneered, cutting off your line of thought, and Azriel growled once again, a deeper sound, a more predatory warning. “Stay the fuck out of her head, Rhys.”

“My head?” Your squeak was embarrassing but you were too overwhelmed to care. Rhysand only scoffed, brushing invisible lint from his shoulder while Cassian rolled his eyes. Your stomach was rolling over, and you felt like the very air was being squeezed from your lungs, emotions clogging and stinging at your throat. Under their watchful eye, you’d never felt so small, so insecure, so powerless.

“Picture a wall building around your mind.” Azriel’s voice had softened, his breath brushing over your hairline, and you wanted to turn to him, to sink into his honeyed gaze where you knew you’d find a friend, in hopes it would calm the visible full body shakes now, bring you back into your own skin. But, you couldn't look away, feeling like you were stuck on the High Lord, unable to even move. “Picture it. Don’t focus on anything else, brick by brick, build that wall. Keep building it, thicker and thicker. Work on it until they leave, I’ll explain later.”

A jerky nod was the best you could manage, and Azriel left a kiss on your temple on confirmation as you mentally laid down the first few bricks.

“This is none of your business.” His voice hardened again, and you lost focus, cursing yourself mentally as you lost it all, the wall crumbling to dust in your mind’s eye. You could feel it, then. Feel that presence, the one that made you feel like you were being pushed out of your one body, the cramped feeling.

He was there, embarrassment flooding you at how flawlessly he witnessed your internal struggle. He didn’t even try to prove at your thoughts again, just watching you struggle from inside your own mind, like it was nothing to him at all.

Grasping Azriel’s hand with your other, clutching it in both now, he flexed his fingers reassuringly to you, and you tried again to do as you’d been told. One full wall, and when Rhysand finally looked away from you, you were able to snap your mind to the carpet, staring at the floor by your bare feet instead.

“It certainly is my business. If she’s manipulating you, we’re all at risk!”

Your flinch at his shout was unstoppable. You were so wary of his powers, so frightened of Cassian sitting on the couch—

“She should be wary of my abilities, she should be terrified of Cassian!” His gaze turned back to you when you looked in horror, and you could feel the faint trickles of his horrid amusement as you realised once again you’d lost focus, lost that wall. You blinked back tears, unwilling to sink that low before them, to fall any further in their eyes.

In your peripherals, Cassian’s arms uncrossed and he shuffled, but you were locked once again, having made the mistake to look at Rhysand again, and being unable to move away. Shadows twisted at your legs, your arms, your joined hands, drifting off of him in cool and calming waves, binding you to him, comforting you silently. You moved your attention back to that wall once again.

“Whatever she did to you, Az, tell us! Whatever she’s holding over you, we can get you out of it, we can help you!” The warlord only grunted his agreement, shattering your focus with a single sound. And so, you started again.

Silence. Silence dragged on longer this time, longer than any moment before.

Azriel’s wings ruffled as he pulled them in closer, his hand tightened around your own. “It was my idea.”

“What?” They both spoke at once, incredulous and unbelieving. But you dragged in a shaky breath at the shift of power in the room, just for a split second, as he cough them off guard with his declaration.

“It was my idea,” Azriel said again, with that lethal, icy calm. Azriel tucked you a little closer to him, a little behind his body, shielding you from them with a wing. “It was my idea to walk her home that night, it was my idea to bring her back here. It was me who convinced her to stay after she found out who I was. It was me who took her into my bed. It was me who made the offer.”

Silence, again. You’d once loved silence, now, you hated the way it felt like it was crawling across your skin, burrowing into the cracks and seeping through pores.

“It was all me.”

That statement settled over the room, only seeming to heighten everything, until you were sure the sound of your heart pounding was drawing out everything else, even the bustle from the streets outside. Finally, Rhysand snarled a sound of utter disgust.

“This is ridiculous, Azriel! Can’t you see that?” Azriel did not deign to reply, and when the room became stagnant, the air almost unbreathable, it seemed the conversation had come to an end. Standing and sliding his hands into his pockets, Rhysand took a few steps closer to you both. Azriel tucked you further behind his back as Cassian followed. “Fine. Do as you please, Azriel. Let’s see how the rest of the family reacts at dinner on Saturday.”

With little else, Rhysand stalked past, not even bothering a sigh in your direction. Meaningless, inconsequential, nothing. That’s what you were to him. Cassian lingered, and you dared not to look up this time, before hearing him follow only a second later, the front door slamming shut behind him. Two sets of wings took off into the air a second later, and as they went, the heaviness in the room seemed to be sucked right out with them.

When the beating of wings finally faded, Azriel dropped your hand, spinning to you. Your face was cupped in two warm hands, guided up to meet his panicked gaze, and you still felt a little numb, shaking yourself out all the way down to your fingers, as if to regain control of your body.

“I’m so sorry. Fuck, that was awful. I didn’t want you to come back to that, that’s not what I wanted to happen at all. I’m so sorry about them. Are you okay?” Azriel’s rambling came with a tremble to his own hands, and he leaned down, brushing a delicate kiss across both of your heat-stained cheeks. Sliding your hands up to cover his on your face, you finally nodded.

“Your friends don’t seem to like me very much.” You finally choked out, voice raw like you’d been singing at the top of your lungs for hours, or screaming over a crowd, and Azriel gave an equally raspy laugh. His only response was sliding his hands to your waist, and tugging you into his chest, a tight embrace.

“I don’t know why.”

“It’s okay.” You sighed, burying your face into his chest, feeling the siphon under his clothes pull with a power. “It makes sense. They think I’m using you.”

“They didn’t even let me explain! They just assume I was weak enough to let a beautiful woman manipulate me. It makes me feel like they don’t trust me, at all.” Your heart fluttered at his words, even if they were spoken with rage and anger, they still held sweetness for you, and you squeezed him once more, before stepping back from his arms, just a little.

He was all but shaking with rage, and you rolled onto your tiptoes, leaving a kiss to match the ones he’d given you upon his cheek, and he tried his best to give a small smile. It looked more like a grimace, but you appreciated it nonetheless. “Let me show you what I bought today, would that cheer you up?”

“Yes.” He mumbled, but finally came a genuine smile from him, even if it was tiny, it was something.

Scooping up the bags for you, you were left only with the small bakery box, waving it lightly in your hands as he carried your begs further into the room and placing them beside the coffee table. “This is a little treat for us later, I hope you have a sweet tooth,”

Azriel shrugged, lips pressed shut, and you were sure a soft pink was forming on his cheekbones. “I like sweet things.”

Your eyes narrowed on him a little, closing the space between you both until you were pinching his cheek, his blush deepening as he scowled, pushing your hand away when you giggled. “Oh, so tough. Big bad spymaster, I bet you love desserts and pastries and sugar.”

“I like it a normal amount.” He deflected, catching your other hand by the wrist when you lifted it to his other cheek, and pinning them both at your sides. The scowl melted into a smile, despite how hard he tried, and your grin only stretched wider. “Oh, shut up. You should be grateful, if I didn’t like sweet things so much, you wouldn't be here!”

It was your turn to blush, your jaw dropping a little as heat crawled over your face. He raised both hands, pinching your cheek and shaking your face side to side. When you slapped his hands away, he only laughed.

“Not so fun, is it?”

“Shut it, shadowsinger.”

His grin only got wider, and he reached for a bag, swiping up whichever his fingers found first and holding it out to you. Taking it from him after putting down the pastry box, you opened up the paper bag, peering inside at whatever you’d purchased. Fishing out the first item, you presented it to him, his brows crawling up.

“Table mats!”

“Table mats?” He repeated, taking the bundle from you and tugging lightly at the twine string holding them shut. The set of eight opened up after the strings came loose, and he examined each one. A lightwood mat, with the mountain range of the Night Court carved into the surface of each one, clean and beautiful polished wood under his fingertips. “I like them.”

“Yeah?”

You could only smile, pulling out the next item, one that matched. “Good, because I also got matching coasters!” On each coaster, one mountain sat with the three stars carved over the top, the crest of their Court, and he rubbed his thumb across it. “They’re perfect.”

“I also bought some mugs!”

“I have mugs.” You only scoffed, beginning to root through the bags on the floor beside the table until one clinked, the cups and saucers inside.

“You have… very simplistic mugs.” His arms crossed over his chest.

“Because they’re plain white and aren’t weirdly shaped?” Producing the mugs and saucers, his lips pressed together to conceal a laugh. “What are those?”

“Mugs and saucers!”

“Saucers are supposed to be around, not square! And why are the mugs striped?” He took one from your hands, inspecting it closely. “A mug is a functional item, why does it have a quote painted on the front?”

He turned it around, forcing you to look at the words across the front, the exact reason you’d chosen it, and your answering beam seemed to answer his question.

“‘I’m not arguing, I’m just explaining why I’m right’. Really?”

“Now look at mine!” You handed it over to him, yours with blue polka-dots instead of stripes, and he gagged loudly as he read the words.

“‘Follow your dreams, they know the way’? That’s awful.” He threw it, the mug bouncing across the couch cushions, and you caught it just before it could fall to the floor, loud bursts of laughter spilling from your lips as he shook his head. “You can’t live here anymore. You have to get out. Right now. And take your terrible mugs with you.”

“But there’s more!”

“More?” He groaned, loudly, head tipping back, and when you leaned in to jab at his shoulder, he grabbed your arm, tugging you closer. Your squeal was lost to laughter as he pinched at your side instead, stealing your intended attack and making you squirm, checking him with your hip as he did it again, an inch higher. “How many more will you inflict upon my poor cupboards?”

“I got four in total!” His assault stopped after the third pinch, your back to his chest as his arm banded around your body, holding you there until the giggles faded. “I promise, I have other stuff, stuff you’ll like.”

“How can I possibly trust your taste, now?”

“I’m here with you, aren’t I? I must have reasonably decent taste, at least.” The pinching started again, until you squirmed away to the floor, gasping for breath and kicking at his ankles as you swiped for the next bag. “You’re a menace!”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just see the next bag.”

Despite his insults of your mugs and plates, you couldn't bring yourself to care, because that tension had slipped out of his shoulders once again, and he was smiling. Smiling like he’d never known a trouble in the world, smiling like nothing had gone wrong today. As he sank to kneel before you on the floor, you fetched the next bag, setting it between your bodies.

And so, the next several hours followed, the world melting away as you went through each purchase, showing Azriel everything from new candles that smelled like pumpkins and spices, to a throw blanket for the bed, to a new set of notebooks and pens.

Your new clothes had been folded and set in piles, and you left Azriel to wash and put away your ‘interesting’ kitchenware as you carried your new clothes up to your drawers. You’d never owned so much in the way of lovely clothes, the fabric and weaving market of Velaris were like nothing you’d ever seen before.

When you reemerged, Azriel was standing in the living room, hands on his hips and staring at the floor. His brows were furrowed a little bit, all the empty bags had been picked up and were now sitting in a stack in his armchair, the considerable number threatening to topple over. He looked a little overwhelmed, rubbing a hand across his jaw, and your lip caught between your teeth as you stepped into the doorway.

“Is it too much?”

“What?” His hand returned to his hip from his jaw, as his gaze moved to you.

Waving a hand idly around in a motion of the house, you gave a small smile. “Everything I bought, is it too much?”

His eyes widened slightly, before he was making his way across the room, shaking his head. He stared for a second, frozen in motion but you could see the thoughts flicking through his eyes, before finally, he gave a heavy sigh; “I’ve never had matching mugs with someone before. My chest is tight.”

Your thoughts halted for a moment, a vulnerable look on his face as you studied him, his fingers twitching by his sides anxiously as he held your stare. Rubbing a hand over his chest for something to do, you took his hand in both of your own, rubbing your thumbs across the back of his palm. “That’s so cute, Az.”

“It’s cute?” His cheeks were growing redder by the second, and you squeezed his hand, “It’s pathetic.”

“It’s not pathetic! I’ve never had matching mugs with someone either.” He only rolled his eyes, but his fingers finally curled around your own.

“It’s not just the mugs. The mugs are a metaphor.” That furrow was back between his brows, the blush spreading down his jaw, and you rubbed that crease softly with one finger.

“I know. I’ve never had the metaphor, either.”

Silence fell between you both, and Azriel’s blush finally went down, until he no longer wore that expression, but was relaxed once again. His hand tightened around yours, tugging you forward, through the living room. “I laid out the rug.”

“The rug?” Your gaze fell to where he’d been standing, the new woven rug made from the softest materials you’d ever encountered was now laid out beneath the coffee table, centred perfectly before the chairs and the couch. “My rug. That was for my room.”

“What?”

“The rug, you don’t have to put it down here. I don’t want to change your whole house, Az. I just bought a coupla’ things, things I thought would make you chuckle, like the cheesy mugs.”

“But it looks so good here.” With another step, he was on the rug bare feet digging into the threads, and tugging you forward, too. Toeing off your shoes, you copied, toes digging into the soft rug, copying the little steps he was making in the plush material. “I want you to put your little touches all over this place if it makes you happy.”

Something inside of you turned to mush at that, and you looked down, seeing only the motions you both made as you shuffled across the rug, gentle laughter filling the space as you admired it. The day may not have been the best, but Azriel seemed at last a little more cheered. That lingering sadness underneath seemed to last, though.

“Wanna’ go make dinner? We can have anything you want.”

He stepped away, leaving you to follow him as he made his way to the kitchen, and you almost had to jog to keep up with his long strides. “Hm, how about a cheese toastie?”

“A cheese toastie? C’mon, at least give me a little bit of a challenge!” Despite his protests, Azriel was before the fridge, pulling out a thick loaf of bread and several kinds of cheese, beginning to stack ingredients along the counter.

“Fine, how about a cheese toastie and some soup?” He glanced at you over his shoulder, face a blank portrait and somehow still conveying subtle judgement, tutting under his breath. “Hey! I’ll have you know that making a good soup is challenging!”

“I’ll have you know, that I’m excellent at cooking, and I’m about to make you the best soup you’ve ever had.”

“Big claims,” You smirked, hopping up onto the counter and swinging your legs, watching as he retrieved a large pot from the cupboards, adding some water and setting it to boil on the stove. “You sure you can handle it?”

“You just watch me handle it.”

Your tongue stuck out, his matching it, and laughter filled the kitchen as he set to work. As Azriel chopped, sliced and peeled the vegetables, adding seasoning and spices, you set to work on slicing the bread and cheeses. When it was done, he retrieved them from you, stacking the bread and fillings up, and finding a pan to start grilling.

“Make yourself useful and go lay the table.”

“Make myself useful?” A single swat to the arm, and Azriel was grinning to himself as he stirred the soup. “You are the one who keeps telling me that you’re the chef, I would be helping if you’d let me!”

“And now I’m letting you. Letting you set the table. You’re welcome.”

“You’re welcome, yeah, whatever.” You mocked, tugging open the cutlery drawer, gathering cutlery and plates, laying them out on the table. Glasses of water followed, and then you were back, peering over Azriel’s shoulder as he flipped over the two toasties, melted cheese dripping from the edges and making your mouth water. “Smells good.”

“Hm.” He grabbed for another spoon, scooping some out of the bubbling soup, and turning. Holding it up to your lips, all teasing was gone, and you parted your lips, letting him push the spoon between them slowly. Pulling it back, he waited as you swallowed, considering the flavour. “Good?”

“Really good.”

“Yeah?” Pink touched his cheeks at your confirmation, and his private smile was hidden as he turned his back to you, back to the food. “I’m glad. Go sit down, it’s almost ready.”

You did as told, propping your hand on your fist as you sat in your seat, watching him move around the kitchen, plating up your dinner. When it was ready, he sat across the table from you, eagerly waiting on his food as he waited for you to try it once again.

Reaching one hand out across the table, palm facing up, you offered your hand to him, in the space between you both. Hesitating for only a second, Azriel slid his rough and calloused fingers over your own, holding on gently when you curled your hand around his. He stared, rubbing his thumb slowly over your knuckles as he turned your hands atop the surface, and shook his head softly to himself.

“Eat up, Az. You’ve had a stressful day.”

He only laughed, a cheeky glint in his eye as he peered up at you through his lashes, shoulders softening further.

No matter how far they softened, tension easing out, it was never gone entirely. Not as you sat and ate dinner together, not as you shared the pastries you had for dessert, cutting each treat in half and sharing every thought. Lingering underneath it all, in the way his smile never fully extended, or his shimmer dimmed a little too fast, you could tell the weight of the day was still dragging him down.

He’d insisted on cleaning up, and so you’d stood side by side, him washing and you drying, the quiet eating at the space in between you both until it was too much. So, you’d filled the space by talking, and Azriel had listened to every senseless whim and joke you’d had to say, walking beside you to your bedroom door, before bidding you a quiet goodnight, and disappearing into his own.

Only one shadow had lingered, brushing across your cheek before trailing in tendrils with the others, which were wrapped tightly around his body. Like a protective shield, or a safety blanket. As you changed for bed, every movement felt heavy, the air was heavy with the lingering emotions of the day, and you could almost taste his guilt and self-loathing in the air.

You’d all but paced a hole in your floor as you wandered up and down thinking about it.

It didn’t feel right to leave him, but you weren’t sure of where those boundaries lay, what your limits were. If Azriel wanted company, he could’ve asked, but he didn’t exactly seem like the sort to reach out. He was the quiet, brood-in-solitude type. You had no idea what to do to help.

You were still considering it as you silently approached his bedroom door. There was a light still on, flickering dimly as the flame danced, just enough of a soft glow to perhaps be a single candle.

Before you could back out and turn around, a single shadow snaked under the threshold, curling around your ankle, swarming quietly and securely, like a message. Before you could second-guess again, your knuckles wrapped twice against the door, the shadow darting back underneath.

A gruff noise of acknowledgement from inside welcomed you, and you stepped into the room. Feet near-silent against the carpet, the shadows were back, a wisp of cool touch around your bare calves, brushing all the way up, and stopping respectfully at the hem of your nightgown.

Instead of venturing further, they shifted to your arms, following your every motion as you closed the door and began padding across the room toward him, feeling the twist and dance of them up your arms.

As you reached the edge of the bed, he lowered his book, a single jerk of his chin bringing his shadows darting back to him, smoothing into the creases of the bed and the shadows on the floor, all but disappearing sneakily once again. Sitting up further, he patted the space beside him, and you crawled up across the bed to kneel by his side.

He waited patiently as you settled, your heart racing in your chest as he welcomed your company. Your comfort. You hadn't thought it through this far, what to even say to him, but only one thing came to mind;

“I got a job today,”

His eyes widened almost comically, brows shooting up his forehead, and his jaw dropped. For a heartbeat, two, he was speechless. “You got a job?”

“The desserts we had? They came from The Star Crossed Bun Bakery, and you’re lookin’ at their new waitress!” He let out a cheer, arms reaching out to drag you over his legs and into a hug, your ass planted across his thighs as his arms wrapped around your body, squeezing you to his chest. Your head shook, giggling uncontrollably as he whooped. “Well, it’s no ‘spymaster of the Night Court’, but—”

“Do you like it?” He cuts you off cleanly, no longer smiling, a serious look on his face. “Do you think it’ll make you happy?”

“I do. I think it’s perfect.”

“Then who cares what it is? It’s the best job ever, if it’ll truly bring you joy.” The sincerity in his voice made you believe him, the honesty in his eyes only confirmed it, and you couldn't tear your sights away from his own because of it. Captive, you were locked in his gaze, the wide beam on your lips dimming to something more gentle, and his arms tightened around your waist some more as you looped one of your own around his neck for support.

“I’ll be able to pay you back for everything pretty soon.” Threading your fingers a little higher, into the hairs along the back of his head a rumbling sound beat through his chest at the scratch of your nails on his scalp.

“I told you, I don’t want you to pay me back. That money I gave you was a gift, and you used half of it to buy things for me anyway, so it barely even counts.”

“If I don’t pay you back,” You shuffled, sliding a little further down in his lap as he crooked his legs up behind you. “Then your brothers are right, I’m your sugar baby.”

His smile dimmed a little as you looked up at him, but it didn’t leave completely, and after a couple of moments of quiet, he shrugged. “Then you’re my sugar baby. I don’t care what they think.”

“I care!” Your hand slapped loosely at his arm, and he only rubbed a hand down your spine, his face impassive at your protest. Your eyes rolled fondly, cheek going to rest on his shoulder as he continued to rub your back slowly. Shuffling the blankets down around himself, he pulled them free from his lap and up and over yours instead, his hand going to rest over your covered thigh once he was done.

“Wanna stay and cuddle for a while, sugar?”

“Oh, gods…” The nickname is an awful play on current events, but it makes him smile once again, and so you stretch your legs out and slump a little further across him as he relaxes back into the pillows, taking you with him.

Smoothing your hands across the front of your dress, you gave a final nod to the mirror, unwilling to let yourself overthink it any further. The four other outfits discarded on your bed were proof enough of that. Swiping up a pair of simple black heels, a matching purse and a lipstick you’d yet to wear, you let the bedroom door click shut behind you as you left.

Downstairs, you were finally learning the ways to navigate this house, you found Azriel sitting in his favourite armchair, a loose t-shirt and sweatpants. A mug of cooling tea sat on the coffee table as his legs stretched out to reach his feet to the new rug, book in hand. Placing down the purse and the lipstick at the table by the front door, you slipped one heel on, then the other, as you walked towards him.

“When are we leaving? You’re not dressed yet.”

His head lifted, eyes focusing intently on your outfit as he took you in, a long and sweeping gaze from head to foot. A simple black sundress, nothing special about it, but as Azriel scanned right from the hem at your ankles to the liner behind your lashes, you felt special.

Holding out his hand, you took it, and he twirled you simply before him, a smile pulling on your lips as you moved in a circle before his seat.

“Leaving for what?” He eventually said, dropping your fingers after running his thumb across your knuckles. “Why are you dressed up?”

“Family dinner!” His eyes narrowed. “It’s tonight!” His smile fell, lips pursing in a scowl, and he shook his head.

“We’re not going to that.”

“But it’s your family!”

“Yeah, and they were assholes. Besides, you didn’t sign up to deal with their shit.” His focus moved back to his book, and you took it from his hands, ignoring the sound of protest he gave off, sliding the bookmark between the pages, and putting it out of his reach.

“I kinda’ did sign up for it. Wasn’t that one of the main points of our… agreement?” Leaning your thigh on the edge of his chair, he was forced to look up and meet your gaze. “To go to events with you, so you’re not alone.”

His frown only deepened. The sight of it made you want to rage, hating that expression on his face, and you sunk onto the chair, threading a hand into his hair like you’d done a day prior, playing lightly.

“Besides, I’m going to have to meet them all eventually, Az. If they’re all going to hate me, might as well get it done in one sitting, huh?”

He only groaned, leaning forward to brace his forehead against your thigh, grumbling at your chuckle as your hand followed, back to his hair. Running one scarred hand over the material adorning your calves, he huffed out a warm breath against your leg. “You look so beautiful in your new dress.”

“Thank you.” Your heart fluttered a little at the pure tone of his voice.

“Are you sure you want to go?”

“I didn’t get all dressed up for nothin’. C’mon, have a little faith in me. I can handle it.” Another pass of your fingers through his hair, and he twisted his head, to rest his cheek in its place. “I’ve been practising my mental wall-building skills, I have to test them out.”

“Alright, alright.” He sighed, lingering a second longer before heaving himself to his feet with a whine, stretching his arms over his head and his wings out to their full spread, the display of them mesmerising as you watched them move. “Just give me five minutes to get dressed.”

As he passed by, he dipped, leaving a swift kiss on your cheek and dashing from the room, his footsteps becoming silent the further he got. There was a bashful smile on your lips, fingers reaching up to softly trace the spot where you could feel his lips, still tingling, as heat flooded over your cheeks in a wave. By the time you’d finally come around to yourself, it was to straighten up the cushions, carry away his mug to the kitchen and put the bottle of wine you’d spent half a day choosing out yesterday onto the counter.

Using the mirror hung in the hallway, you were still applying your lipstick when Azriel, true to his word, arrived only minutes after departing, now dressed. He was attempting to smooth down his hair as he arrived by your side. Now donned in dress pants and a smart button-up shirt, all in black, he waved his hands over himself. “Now I match you.”

“Oh, please, you exclusively wear all black.”

His answering smirk made your eyes roll, focus returning to the mirror to finish your lipstick application. “Fine, you matched me then.”

You scoffed. He only leaned one shoulder against the wall, crossing his ankles as he waited, watching you. That blush came crawling back. “Stop staring at me while I pout at the mirror.”

“It’s adorable.”

“Make yourself useful and go get the wine from the kitchen.” You finished up, tucking the lipstick inside of your purse and swiping a cardigan from the coat hooks, wrapping it over your shoulders before he returned. His brows were raised when he did, holding up the corked bottle in his hands. “What? I bought it with the last of my savings. It’s the best I could afford, but it’s still pretty good, I think. There were tasters at the winery.”

“Oh, so is that why you were so smiley and giggly when you came home yesterday? You were tipsy?”

His free hand landed on your hip, and your eyes narrowed on him. “I was not tipsy!”

“Sure.” He teased, your eyes rolling some more. You reached up, distracting him effectively enough by smoothing down the last of his untamed hair, hands settling on his shoulders. Beneath the buttons of his chest, a soft blue pulsed from under the fabric, and your hands smoothed down slowly to rest on that place. It hummed with warmth, the siphon underneath all but buzzing with the power it contained.

A quick flicker told you the ones on his hands were there, nor were the ones on his knees, or his shoulders. “These are beautiful.”

He was quiet, too quiet, and when your eyes found his, he was staring with what you could only describe as awe.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” His lips parted, but no sound came out, struggling to find his words for a moment, and you waited patiently for him to open up. “They mean something. I scare people, and they’re part of that image. You’re not scared of them? Of me?”

“Not one thing about you scares me, Azriel.” His grin told you enough, that your answer had found someplace deep inside of him, where it was needed, and he bowed his head enough to rest his forehead with your own. “Why are you wearing one tonight? You don’t wear them to bed.”

“Because I didn’t trust myself.”

“To do what?” You mused, his head finally rising, but his hand still squeezed your waist, sliding around a little further to band around your body.

“Not to lose control if they’re unkind to you again.” It was your turn to be struck deep, and you knew by the bob in his throat that he caught the hitch in your breath. Silence fell between you both, a moment dragging on for eternity and yet somehow being over far too quickly, when he shook his head softly. You don’t know what he read on your face, whether it was the surprise or adoration, or none of it at all. When he spoke again, it was with a raspy voice, dragging like gravel; “Ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He hesitated, only for a second as he pulled back, shadows wrapping tightly around your bodies while he waited for your nod of confirmation. Then, they coiled, blocking out all of the light and clearing only when the ground had fallen from your feet and been found once again. Before you stood the sprawling estate owned by the High Lord and Lady. If you hadn't known you were coming here, it would have been an easy guess.

Casual grandeur, understated beauty but breathtaking nonetheless. Colourful flowers lined rows around the base of the house, the river rushing softly across rocks behind you, faelights casting a warm glow over the cobbled path leading up to the main house. Step after step, you walked beside Azriel, his hand a warm and grounding presence on your lower back, comfort in every swipe of his thumb over your spine as you made your way up to the house.

As soon as the front door was opened, shadows darted in ahead of you both, instinct pulling them from the darkness to scope out every corner of the room before returning, nothing to report of the safe and familiar environment. Laughter was spilling out, every step further into the luxurious home carried that warmth and carefree happiness.

The room finally came into view, a large wooden dining table, decorated with candles, wine glasses, flowers and baskets of bread, the members around the table spread out comfortably, and you checked off mentally who was here, based on what Azriel had told you. Lucien, Elain’s mate, was not in attendance tonight. Nor was Varian, Amren’s lover. Four empty seats sat around the table, which went silent, as all attention fell to your entry.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Azriel.”

“What?” He pasted on a cocky look, masking the feelings you knew were roiling underneath his expression, his fingers twitching against your back. “You said come to dinner, see how the rest of the family reacts, so here we are.”

“I meant you alone,” The High Lord growled, and you checked those walls you’d been practising with were still intact, not failing to miss the snarl Rhysand let out as a cool feeling brushed over those barriers. Testing. Confused looks painted some of the faces at the table, looking between you both in the doorway, and the host sitting at the head, who looked as though he might actually burst from his anger. “This is inappropriate.”

Azriel pointedly ignored him, a slight pressure on your back nudging you forward, guiding you to two of the empty seats, pulling out the one beside Morrigan for you to sit in. Mumbling a quiet thank you, you sank into the seat, the incriminating stares laid onto you by everyone present only grew heavier when Azriel left a kiss on the top of your head in acknowledgement.

Not one to be ignored, Rhysand let his words burst free, “You cannot just bring your sugar-baby to dinner with the family!”

“Oh, but you can bring Tamlin’s kidnapped bride?”

You felt your muscles lock up at that smoothly spoken insult, the temperature in the room dropping several degrees, and when you looked up, they were locked in a stare, glaring at one another viciously.

Then Amren laughed, and you let it shake you back into motion, sliding the wine bottle out of Azriel’s white-knuckled grip as he moved to take his seat beside you.

“Azriel.” The single word was growled, so low and threatening, and a burst of night-kissed power rippled along the table, shaking glasses and cutlery. “Feyre is my mate, it’s different.”

“Not really,” Azriel all but chirped, defiance on every word, and nausea rolled in your stomach that he’d act this way over you. He sat, and you reached out, placing a hand gently on his forearm, squeezing. He placed a hand over your own, but didn’t look your way. “She may be your mate, but at the time she was merely Tamlin’s bride whom you stole from her wedding, on her wedding day, on a fucking technicality!”

“I knew she was my mate, and she was begging for help!” He slammed a hand down on the table, the cutlery shaking and rattling again, and you squeezed Azriel’s arm. He squeezed back. “She wasn’t just some whore from the gods-damned pleasure house!”

At that, the room seemed to freeze over. Not even Amren laughed now, and you knew the weight of that one word. The word that Rhysand had been branded with, the slur that was muttered behind his back for so long after the events Under the Mountain, and your heart thudded painfully hard in your chest, nerves taking over.

Their staring lasted for a second longer, before Azriel’s chair screeched back across the tiles. He stood, holding his hand out to you.

“Stand up, sweetheart. We’re leaving.”

“What?” Your gaze moved from his gaze to his eyes, and he wiggled his fingers, expression softening every second he looked at you.

“Az, wait, please stay.” Morrigan offered from your side. “I haven’t seen you for months, please stay.”

You remembered Azriel telling you that Morrigan had been away, he wasn’t even sure she’d be here tonight, she’d been on another continent playing the charming courtier for a while, and showing her girlfriend the bigger world. His eyes shuttered with regret and disappointment as he glanced at her. “I’ll see you another time, Mor. You should come over sometime.”

His hand dropped to your shoulder as his focus returned to you, squeezing lightly. Beneath his shirt, blue glowed so bright it lit up the fibres of his shirt now, straining to control his feelings. “C’mon, sweets. Let’s go home.”

“Azriel, please stay.” This time, it was the High Lady who spoke, all gazes moving to her as she effortlessly commanded the room.

“Fey, I’m sorry.” Finally, regret leaked into Azriel’s voice, no longer that firm and cruel tone, but the one you were so familiar with was back. “You know I didn’t mean any insult by it. Coming here was a mistake, and we should go.”

Rhysand huffed at those words, agreeing with that sound, but his wife only shook her head. “You made a valid point, Azriel. You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. I was just Tamlin’s bride, and before that, I was just a poor girl who was hunting in the woods.” Her sights moved to you then, your heart freezing as you were acknowledged directly, “I would have done anything to get by, too.” She shrugged, offering a small smile that did more to comfort you than she might ever know. Then she cut a sharp look at her husband. “We do what we must to survive.”

“I’m fine, Az. We should stay.” He looked torn, whole body shuddering a little with restraint, but he eventually sank into his seat again, tucking himself under the table. Lifting the bottle you held up in the air, you hoped your hands were shaking enough to be visible. “We brought some wine.”

“We have wine,” Rhysand muttered, but snapped his fingers, and let two new wine glasses appear before you and Azriel, angry expression still on his face. A silent conversation of some kind seemed to take place between him and his wife, because, after a moment of sharp looks and flickering expressions, he sighed, shoulders slumping. He picked up a bottle of his own wine, however, making sure that the expensive label was facing in your direction as he poured it.

Opposite you, the High Lady’s sister, Nesta, chugged her glass, finishing the near-full one off in one burst, and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before holding the now empty glass out to you. “I love that wine, used to drink it all the time. Rhysand won’t buy anything that isn’t at least half as old as he is, but expensive isn’t always better. Can I get some of that?”

Perking up a little bit, your over-eager nod would’ve been embarrassing, if Azriel’s hand didn’t shoot out faster than you could react yourself, taking the glass from her and bringing it closer to you both. Placing it down with your glasses, he took the bottle from you, uncorking it, and pouring three glasses, before passing her’s back. You didn’t miss the grateful smile on his face for her offered olive branch, or her curt nod in reply.

Dinner was soon served, by two wraith-like women by the names of Nuala and Cerridwen, who were silent as they moved through the room. Sat before you was a plate of some of the most decadent food you’d ever seen, a meal you’d rarely ever been able to afford to treat yourself to, and it was a simple weekend gathering for them.

Several different sets of cutlery were laid out before you, matching forks and spoons and knives of different sizes, all presumably for different purposes, and the cloying knot of shame and embarrassment gathered within you as everyone else seemed to know exactly which one to go for, and you had no idea.

A shadow swirled around one finger, before darting down to the cutlery, racing along a fork and nudging it just an inch to the side. Rhysand’s eyes were on you, you could feel the heavy stare as you picked it up cautiously, and the knife the shadow motioned you to as well, before offering a polite smile and digging into the food just like everyone else.

Azriel glanced down, brow raising in a barely-noticeable tick to check on you, and your dip of a nod was good enough to encourage him. The conversation seemed to flow on around the both of you, but rarely ever ventured enough to include you. Azriel would talk more often, occasionally a question was darted in your direction, but never anything that required more than a one or two-word answer.

The plates were cleared and you were a little relieved to have made it through, trying not to slouch in your seat, or do anything else that would only add to the bad reputation you’d already managed to be burdened with.

It was only the first course, a shock that came when a second, much larger plate of even more expensive and exquisite-looking food was placed before you. Shadow’s signalled you in again, and your half-drained wine glass was refilled, shared between you and Azriel with what was left of the bottle you’d brought.

The once sweet wine practically tasted sour in your mouth now as you plastered on a smile to get through the next stage of this evening. You weren’t here to have fun, though. You weren’t here to be liked, even if it would have been nice to make some friends. You were here to support Azriel, to give him the comfort and company he needed.

The more you looked around, the more you could see what he meant. The High Lord and Lady were not shy about their affections, practically curled into one another the entire time, touches frequent and sweet words murmured. Morrigan had been talking with Nesta for almost thirty minutes about her girlfriend, who must’ve been one of Nesta’s friends, and her mate was just as attentive. Cassian had eaten half of Nesta’s starter, what he hadn't gotten himself she’d fed to him with a smirk and kissed away any traces, even going so far as to lick the corner of his mouth when she thought nobody was looking.

Amren was silent and stealthy, reading her book and talking to nobody. You were sure if Varian had been present, or Lucien for Elain, it would have been even more unbearable. No wonder he was willing to extend such offers just for some relief.

Reaching out and placing a hand on his forearm, he jumped slightly, his cutlery clattering on his plate as his head whipped to you. Eyes a little wide as you trailed that hand down, he unfurled his fist a little, gaze never straying, as your hand closed atop his palm. With a squeeze, his lips flickered at the edges, a slow blink offered, before putting down his knife and turning his hand over to hold yours properly.

All eyes were on you, you were sure some looks dirty, but it didn’t matter. You were looking at him. At the smile he wore, the warmth creeping back in at the edges of his expression, the gratitude and the affection and the kindness. The Azriel you were so familiar with.

Somehow, just reaching for him, made the rest of dinner easier for you too.

It didn’t matter that nobody spoke to you for more than a minute or two, because you were far too distracted by the feeling of his hand in yours.

It didn’t matter that the dirty looks and double-edged questions never quite ceased, because when Azriel left a kiss on your temple and smoothed his hand over your hair after the plates had been cleared, your mind was practically empty for several moments.

It didn’t matter that you felt out of place, because with your head on his shoulder, and his cheek atop your crown, you’d never felt more at home.

Dessert was finally served, a decadent-looking chocolate cake and a round of coffees and teas, that made you grateful the meal was finally drawing to a close. It took all of your strength to pull away from Azriel, to sit properly once again to appreciate the cake before you.

“So, where were you living before…” Nesta waves her spoon idly around the room, before plunging it back into her dessert and taking another mouthful, “All this?”

“Before I met Azriel, or before I came to the Night Court?” You raised a brow, and she smirked around her spoon, shrugging. Azriel swiped his thumb across your knuckles, drawing your attention to him momentarily. He was staring at your collapsed hands, sitting before him on the table and watching his thumb moving slowly across your skin.

“Both.” Was all she gave, intrigue covering her tone.

You squeezed at Azriel’s hand, his attention snapping to you, and you raised your brows, a silent question if he was alright. He only nodded, letting that small smile touch his lips for a brief moment. “Well, before I moved to the Night Court, I was travelling, mostly. I wasn’t settled, I was trying to find where I wanted to set up some roots, and then I heard all about the Court of Dreams, and it sounded perfect for me, I always felt a little out of place at home.”

“So, when you arrived here, you just stumbled across our lovely shadowsinger?”

“We kinda’... stumbled across each other, I guess.” You squeeze Azriel’s hand again, his smile directed at the table this time as he squeezed back, before shuffling his chair an inch closer to your own. “We met in… well, I’m sure you’ve heard where we met, how we met, that whole tale, already. I was living in a shabby little apartment, and he did not like it very much.”

“Your place was atrocious, it should have been condemned.” He muttered, and your giggle at least made him smile, a one-shouldered shrug when Nesta rose her brows. “Seriously, Nesta, it made your apartment look like this place.”

He’d said a variation of that exact same thing to you already, the teasing scoff tumbling from your lips, pinching at his arm, and he jumped in shock, but did not take back the allegation. Instead, he only picked up your hand, eyes glittering a little as he kissed the back of it, diffusing any taunts you might have been building and melting them to utter mush.

“That bad, huh?” She chuckled, crossing her arms as she leaned back in her chair, utterly satisfied with the meal that had been provided. As you were, so full you could barely function anymore, on some of the best food you’d ever had.

“Whatever you’re picturing, double it.” Azriel groaned, sending a ripple of soft laughter between the three of you.

“So, what do you do now? I’m assuming not working at the place you met.” A loaded question, that was for sure, and you felt Azriel tense up beside you. The other chatter around the table seemed to quiet down, all attention falling to you now, and you cleared your throat before speaking up;

“I just got a new job, at a bakery-café in the market square.” In your periphery, you caught the sharp glance Azriel cut to one end of the table, a pointed glare to serve words he didn’t need to speak, before pulling his focus back. “It’s called Star-Crossed Bun, have you ever been?”

She let out a groan, eyes closing and head falling back as she patted her stomach. “I love Star-Crossed Bun, they make these little caramel cupcakes that are incredible. The girls and I go every week after training, on Fridays.”

“Perhaps I’ll see you in there, then!”

She only hummed, her gaze sweeping over you in a suddenly assessing way, and you wondered what had gone wrong. The conversation seemed to be flowing so well, it almost seemed like you’d made at least one friend at this dinner, and now her focus had turned from lazy and relaxed to sharp and calculating. “Have you ever held a sword before?”

“No. I think I’d drop one, or take off some of my own fingers if I even tried.”

Another hum. Another calculating stare. “You should come to training with us. I think Emerie and Gwyn would love to meet you.”

“Oh?” Your heart felt like it skipped over a beat, a grin coming back to her lips, her features softening again, and she shrugged. “Like… your sort of training?”

“You don’t have to be a warrior or anything, or come all the time. We could even just show you some simple self-defence. I think you’d like it, and you’d get to meet some new people in this court, and make some friends.”

“That sounds amazing, I’d love to!” Another squeeze from Azriel, before pulling your hand closer to his own, wrapping his second one around both of yours, and smiling to himself. “When is it?”

“Oh, well, Thursdays are cardio days, but Cassian and I are there every day. We train at the House of Wind, just show up whenever you can.”

A bolt of ice struck through you, tension filling your body once again, and that horrible sinking feeling of knowing something had been too good to be true froze over inside of you at the mention of the commander beside her. “I’ll let you know. I’m not too sure how I’d get there, I can’t rely on Az to winnow me everywhere.”

You tried your best to keep your tone light, to brush it off casually, and hopefully find a different way to bond with her. She’d mentioned the caramel cupcakes you could surely see her at the café, or bring some to the next dinner, perhaps— “Is it because I said cardio? Because if you come on Thursdays, I can make cardio fun, I swear!”

Your laugh felt empty now, and Azriel sat up a little straighter beside you, ready to speak. “It’s not the cardio, it’s Cassian. He terrifies her.”

The smile dropped from Nesta’s face, and she sat up straight too, her eyes narrowing as she glanced between you and Azriel, and her mate. “What?”

“No, no. That’s not it at all—”

“When you go full ‘Commander of Death’ on someone you’ve never met before, in their own home, while someone else picks through their brain like it’s a toy basket without even introducing themselves, it’s a little scary.”

“Azriel!” Your snap was harsh, a heaviness falling over an already silent table now, as both the culprits seemed to have moved their attention to their brother, the rest of the guests merely watching with curiosity.

“Sorry. I just…” Azriel heaved a sigh, slumping down in his seat until the tips of his wings were brushing the floor. “It wasn’t fair. You did nothing wrong, and it’s been bothering me since that day. You fucking hid behind me, in your own home! You looked more scared than the night we met, and you made me promise not to murder you.” A nostalgic smile brushed his face for half a second, an apology for his outburst already shining in his eyes when he looked at you fully. “You can’t expect me to just let that go.”

He was concerned, worrying beginning to stitch into his features, and even though he’d opened up about how you felt without your permission, you knew it wasn’t with bad intentions. He just wanted to protect you, and above all, that made you feel far more for him than irritation. “We’ll talk about it later.” You whispered, and he only nodded, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your forehead that left you blushing.

“You don’t have to train with Cassian.” Nesta only gave a brutal look in Cassian’s direction, who at least looked a little sheepish at the accusation, but any time you looked at him, all you could see was the scowl, the look in his eyes as if he’d kill you, and like it. “I mean, he’ll be there, but I’ll make sure he’s nowhere near you. And I promise, he wouldn't hurt you, even if he looks like a brute. I hope you do choose to come, I’d really like to see you.”

“I think you should go.” Azriel’s whisper was just for you to hear, and when you turned, his face was close to yours, so close you were almost cross-eyed to look at him. “She’s right, Emerie and Gwyn would like you a lot.”

“I’ll winnow you up sometimes too, if you’d like. So you don’t feel like you’re always asking Az.” When your eyes, and everyone else’s, moved to Mor in shock, she only finished off the red wine in her glass and shrugged. “Oh, please. Some people are being so melodramatic about all of this. Besides, Emerie would give me shit if I got home and told her I hadn't offered, anyway.”

“So it’s settled. You’ll come to training this week, give it a go.” Nesta smirked, and you guessed she might be used to getting her way by now, if the sparkle in her eyes was anything to go by. “Just one little trial session.”

All eyes were on you, even Azriel, and you caved with a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Okay, fine. I’ll be there.”

Nesta beamed to herself, cheering lightly, and Cassian gave a gruff chuckle as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. Averting your gaze towards Azriel as he now stared longingly at your cake, it was your turn to laugh.

“Would you like the rest of it?”

“Only if you’re not going to eat it.” Even as he spoke, though, he was lifting his spoon again, “We can share it?”

“Sure.” You confirmed, and he took off a chunk of it, offering it to you first. You almost accepted, but the thought of letting him feed you felt far too intimate in a room full of people who hated you.

His eyes narrowed slightly, and then he nodded, settling further back in his seat and dragging the plate to sit between you both.

When that plate was finally clear, Azriel didn’t hesitate to finish off his wine, slouching back into his seat as far as his wings would let him, one stretched out behind half of your chair, too. His hand reached out, settling on your elbow and shaking you gently from the conversation you’d been listening to Elain and Morrigan have about the former’s gardening crop this summer.

“Are you ready to leave?” He offered, fingers flexing on your arm before sliding away.

“Are you?”

“Yes. I’m…” He glanced around, shrugging when Cassian’s focus lay solely on him, and clearing his throat to speak a little louder. “I’m tired, I’d like to go home.”

“Thank you for staying, Az.” His High Lady said, voice as delicate as ever, and her tone dipped far closer to professionalism than friendly as she moved to you. “Thank you both for coming.”

“Thank you for having us. The food was lovely, the company even more so.” You matched her tone, a smile and a glance around the table without truly meeting anybody’s gaze. Azriel stood, extending his hand to you, and taking your purse in his other. Standing with him, Azriel dipped halfway into a far more dramatic exit, waving a hand cordially.

“It’s been a pleasure. Shall we see you next week?”

The question hung like fog in the air, blinding and disabling, and Rhys’ jaw ticked as he considered it. “If it makes you happy, I suppose we will be.” He finally ground out, expression as tight and sharp as it was polite.

“If we don’t have plans, we’ll be here.” It was Azriel’s wicked way of lighting the tension, and even Rhys offered a chuckle, finally ending their stalemate, even as he rolled his eyes. He waved a hand at you both, and Azriel’s ran along your back, shadows clouding you in, your breath held until you were finally back in the familiar corridors of Azriel’s home.

The breath slipped free with a heavy sigh. Putting down your purse, you turned toward the coat rack, not making it very far before two hands were settling on your shoulders, stilling your movements. In the hallways mirror, you could see Azriel behind you, wings tucked in tight, shadows bustling like busy streets, chaos as he took half a step closer. He lowered, forehead resting on the back of your head, after leaving a kiss there.

“Are you mad at me?” Azriel asked, peeling your cardigan down your arms slowly, the warmth of his body leaking into you from behind, and you could only give a soft laugh. As he hung it up on the coat hooks, you turned to face him, still closer to his height as you balanced in your heels, arms looping easily around his neck.

“I’m not mad at you.” He sighed again at that, his hands coming to rest on your hips this time, pulling you a little closer, until you could practically feel the pulsing of the siphon beneath his shirt, mimicking a heartbeat. “I just don’t want you making enemies of your family over me. I can defend myself, and you don’t have to pick between them or me.”

He didn’t respond, only leaning in to give another sweet kiss, this one to the tip of your nose. Running your hands over his shoulders and down his arms, thick muscles were taut and lined with lingering tension once again.

“Why don’t I make us some tea, and bring it upstairs for us? We can sit and read for a while.”

“I’d like that.”

Using him for balance to kick off your heels before letting him go, he padded away through the house as you made your way to the kitchen. Once the water was set to boil and you’d chosen a relaxing brew for the evening’s choice, you took your time to prepare for bed yourself.

A tray with two steaming mugs on and a jar of honey later, and you were carrying it slowly through the house towards the bedroom, shadows flickering along, crawling in the tight corners of the walls as you walked.

By the time you were nudging your way through Azriel’s half-cracked door, he was just settling in at the cushions of his bed, glancing up to watch you set the tray on the bedside table on the opposite side.

“You’re not in bed yet.”

Not a question but a statement, and he only shrugged, peeling back the covers on both sides of the bed, and crawling in himself, spreading his wings to sit comfortably. “I was just thinking about stuff, is all.”

“Are you okay?” He gave a hollow laugh, rolling his head slowly on his shoulders to look at you, accepting the mug you held out to him with a quiet thanks, sniffling the steam that came off and loosing a breath filled with worries.

“I should be asking you that after tonight. I never should have taken you there.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, it was my choice to go. I had to convince you to take me, so you’re not allowed to carry the guilt of it all.” He notched a brow a little higher, blowing on the surface of his tea, and amusement flickered over his features. Just what you’d wanted.

“I’m not allowed?”

“No. If anyone is going to take the guilt, it's me. It's mine. You can’t have it.” You offered him the honey, only to receive a small shake of his head as he sipped the first taste, and you loaded a spoonful into your own. “Are you okay, though?”

“Are you?” He countered.

“I’m fine, Az.” He didn’t look like he believed you, only staring, like he’d be able to read right into your soul. Putting down your mug, and taking a bracing breath, you laid a knee on the mattress, then another, inching across the bed before swinging a leg across his own. His eyes went wider, watching as you settled yourself into his lap, sitting on his thighs. “Give me your hands.”

“My hands?” He offered them anyway, throat bobbing in a series of swallows as you took them, rubbing your fingers across his palms slowly.

“Azriel, look at me.” His brows dipped, and you set his hands onto your hips gently, his fingers flexing there. “Really look at me. See that I’m okay. I’m stronger than you think. I know you want to look after me, and it makes me so happy that you do. Nobody has ever wanted to look after me before. But that made me strong. I’ve always been looking out for myself, and I want you to know that. Trust me. I can handle more than you think.”

“I do trust you.” His voice cracked, and he sat up further, hauling you up his body until his chest was almost pressed to your own, his arms slipping around your back. “But there’s something. Something that makes me… I want— I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy, Azriel. I’m happy, and I’m okay. I’m great. If that changes, I’ll tell you.” Settling your hands on his cheeks, his eyes shuttered, leaning a little further into your touch.

“You will?”

“Do you want me to promise it?”

He chuckled, dragging his hand up your spine, to cup the back of your neck, where the promise-brand you’d once sworn to him for all of twenty minutes had once sat. “No, I don’t want any more of those on your skin. Not even to me. Don’t make a promise unless you have no other way. If they’re not worded right, you can be held captive by someone until they die, or you find a way to fulfil the impossible. Don’t do it.”

Leaning in, your forehead rested on his own, and he tipped his face up a little, eyes closing. “Do you want me to promise to make no promises?”

Bubbling, bursting laughter ruptured from him, his body jolting under your own as his face fell to your neck instead, bunching you into his body to hold on tight. A deep, throaty sound that was irresistible, your laughter joining in. “You’re a goddamn menace, sugar.”

“Gotta’ keep you on your toes somehow.”

#SLS #sweet like sugar #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel x you #azriel/you #acotar x reader #acotar/reader #acotar x you #acotar/you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #a court of thorns and roses #acotar

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sevcasejay1chicago · 1 year ago

Text

Im with you- Matt Casey

Summary: When an ovarian cyst ruptures on the job, Matt and Firehouse 51 take care of you.

Warnings: vomiting, cursing, probably inaccurate medical stuff even though I do have PCOS and get ovarian cysts.

Authors note: You asked and I’m delivering. Here’s a fic I wrote a while back. I hope you enjoy!

——————————

You and Matt have been together for a couple years. You have been best friends since you both joined 51, straight from academy. You and Matt shared everything. Your feelings, thoughts, personal issues, a bed. Everything was out in the open. Though Matt was your lieutenant, you never let it effect your job or your relationship. You said it was one of the perks of starting off in the house together. He saw you and your strength. He knew you could take his spot any day, but you were content with just being part of the company.

You started feeling some major discomfort on a call. You were doing a sweep with Severide when you kicked open a door, causing the fire to blow back, sending you and Kelly flying through the air.

“Y/N!” You were sure you heard Kelly scream your name, but your ears rung as you laid against the wall. Kelly quickly shut the door and made his way toward you. “Look at me! Say something!” He yelled, grabbing you by your jacket and making you face him.

You were a little further toward the middle of the door than Kelly, which kept him from flying far. You just went through the air hitting the wall HARD. You were disoriented and had some major ringing in your ears.

When you couldn’t focus on him, Kelly called a mayday of sorts through the radio. “Emergency! Emergency! Fire fighter down. I need a medic to meet me out front.” Kelly yelled, not wasting another second before he pulled me up and into his arms. “I’ve gotcha. Your okay.”

“Who?” Chief Boden asked.

“Y/L/N.” Kelly said just before he broke into a sprint when he saw the exit.

Outside, Dawson and Brett were waiting with a stretcher. As soon as Kelly put you down, Dawson was ripping the mask off your face. The light assaulted your eyes, but the fresh air was like a kick in the butt, which was exactly what you needed.

“I’m fine.” You murmured, attempting to push yourself up.

“Y/N.” Dawson said, pushing you back down with a shake of her head. “You were unresponsive for almost two minutes. I need to check you out.”

I shook my head, regretting it as soon as I did it. I laid back, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I said I’m fine Dawson.” I growled out. Finding the strength to sit up, I swung my legs over the edge of the gurney and tried to stand. My legs failed me as I collapsed into Kelly with a pained gasp.

“Fine my ass Y/L/N.” Kelly said, picking you up and putting you back on the stretcher.

“What hurts hunny?” Brett hummed, allowing Kelly to rip your jacket off as Dawson ran to help a civilian.

“My right side. Like all of a sudden.” You gritted out, swatting Kelly’s hand away as he palpitated the area. “Ow Sev.”

“Sorry.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s not too hard like internal bleeding.” He informed Brett. “I’m going to go update Casey. He looks ready to abandon the company to come check on you. You ladies talk.” Kelly said, leaning over to place a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll be back.”

Once Kelly walked off, you snuck a glance in Casey’s direction. He was talking to the crew, giving orders, but his eyes stayed trained on you.

“When did this start? I don’t see any bruising or signs of a contusion.” Brett murmured, moving back to let the sunlight hit that area.

“I mean, it’s been a dull pain for a while now, but this is the first time it’s been bad enough to effect me.” I said, leaning my head back and breathing deeply. “I have an appointment set with my gyno tomorrow. I’m fine, really. Just extra sore.” I tried to reason, but I was fighting to keep back a sudden wave of nausea. “It’s uh.” I swallowed thickly before continuing. “It’s a normal woman thing I think. Matt knows. Just give me an anti-inflammatory and zofran and I’m good.”

“Zofran?” Brett asked, stopping as she was pushing me to the ambo, which I suddenly realized meant that Kelly was back and helping.

“Yeah. Kinda nauseous.” I said, shaking my head. Kelly hummed and placed a hand on my thigh.

Brett did a thorough head trauma exam before giving me the all clear once she was sure that I didn’t have a concussion. Kelly spent the entire time texting while I was being treated. He was listening and keeping Matt up to date as I waiting to be discharged from the rig.

“Casey said to ride back with Ambo and go straight to his office when we return.” Kelly said, leaning up to place another kiss on my forehead, jumping out of the rig before I could protest. He hit the doors and Dawson, whom I never noticed jumped back into the rig, drove back to the house.

“Well, looks like I’m off the rest of this shift.” I sighed, leaning back and trying to relax as Brett dimmed the lights to the rig.

“Might not be such a bad thing. He’s just looking out for you.” Brett said, sitting on the bench and buckling me around the waist to the stretcher before buckling herself in and propping her feet up to use as a makeshift desk. “Get some rest. We got 20 minutes till we get back.”

I gave her a confused look. “We shouldn’t be that far out.” I mumbled.

“Dawson has to pick up lunch.” Brett replied. “Just relax and enjoy the ride.”

——————————TimeSkip————————-

I woke up to someone softly pushing the hair away from my face.

“Hey Hunny. Come rest in my office.” Matt whispered, trying his best to coax me awake.

“I don’t feel good.” I whispered, leaning my head forward and into his hand.

“I know.” Matt soothed. “I’ll carry you.”

Matt unlocked my seatbelt and gently lifted me into his arms. Doors were opened for us as we made our way through the house. The common area went quiet as we passed through, shuffling could be heard as doors were opened until Matt got to his office.

“Hey Matt.” Kelly whispered, stepping in and closing the door. “Brett gave me these. How’s she doing?”

Kelly shook a sick bag out and put it on the side table and then stashed the rest on the desk. Matt laid me down slowly, pulling the covers over me gently and turning me onto my side into the recovery position. I kept my eyes closed, wondering why Brett never gave me the Zofran, making me focus on not throwing up.

“Doesn’t feel well.” Matt said, sitting next to me and pushing my hair back again. “Baby. Kelly has a sick bag here if you need it. I gotta talk to Boden and fill him in. I’ll be right back.” He said, leaning in to kiss my forehead. “Can you stay with her a minute?” Matt asked Kelly.

“Anything for you guys. You know that.” Kelly said, standing and switching spots with Matt. The door closed softly as Kelly sat next to me. He placed a hand on my back and rubbed soothingly. “Let’s be real. Need to go to med?” Kelly asked, knowing I wouldn’t fess up to Matt unless it was dire.

“No.” I gritted out, frustrated by the whole situation. The pain was subsiding, but the nausea was ramping. “It’s a girl thing.” I simplified.

“Your sure?” Kelly asked, leaning forward and grabbing the sick bag as he saw me pale.

“Mhmm.” I said, not daring to move.

We sat there in silence. I was trying to steady my breathing as Kelly continued to rub my back. He was at a loss. He knew I hated being sick, as he has dealt with a sick me before, but he knew it was gonna happen.

“Sit up. I know it’s gonna happen.” Kelly said, moving to stand and help gently guide me into a sitting position. “Hold this. I’m gonna call Matt.” He instructed, placing the bag in my hand. Kelly went to the door and opened it, yelling for Matt. He knew not to leave me.

The nausea was winning and I began to freak out as Kelly called out again. “Kel- hurlk” I tried to warn him, but got cut off with an unproductive heave.

The door slammed shut as Kelly raced toward me. “Fuck.” He muttered, helping me hold the bag under my chin. With his other hand, he used his radio to call for Matt. “Case. You’re needed in your office. Now.” He said into the radio. A quick “copy” from Matt was all that was heard before I started retching harshly. “Shhhhhhh. Breathe.” Kelly murmured. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

“What’s going on?” Matt exclaimed, running and sliding to a stop in front of me. “Baby? It’s okay. I’m here.” He soothed , taking my hand and pushing my hair back. “Dawson’s gonna check your vitals, okay?”

I nodded as I finally started throwing up all the breakfast that I forced down. Kelly kept holding the bag and rubbing my back, Matt held my hand and kept my hair out of the splash zone, and Dawson went about checking my vitals.

“Pulse is fast. Oxygen is mid 90s. Pressure is slightly low, but not worrisome.” She said. “Any other symptoms?” Gabbi asked Matt.

“Ovarian cysts. Think one ruptured on that call.” Matt muttered. “Never seen her this bad before.”

“Does it hurt, Y/N?” Gabbi asked. “Just squeeze once for no and twice for yes.” Gabbi took my hand and felt me squeeze once. “Good. No pain.”

“What does that mean?” Kelly asked, noting how much I was vomiting and the sweat building up on the back of my neck.

“So, sometimes a cyst can rupture and be infected. This is her body getting rid of it, which is probably why Brett didn’t give her anything for the nausea.” Gabbi explained, writing some stuff down. “If she starts running a fever, tell us and we will take her straight to Med. I’d suggest camping out here for a few hours to make sure she doesn’t spike one. Then you can go home and get her rested.” Gabbi said, patting Matt on the shoulder and walking out.

“Breathe sweetheart. Your gonna need to switch bags in a second if you need to.” Matt said, trying to see my face better. He reached over and grabbed a new one, making a quick switch with Kelly and holding the new bag under my chin as Kelly disposed of the old one.

Talking could be heard as he opened the door. Gabbi and Boden’s voices floating in.

Suddenly, a cool cloth was placed on the back of my neck. “Herrmann got you a rag Y/N.” Kelly said, resuming his post of rubbing my back. “Chief has Herrmann taking lead on truck for the remainder of shift and offered to let me hang around to help unless Squad is needed.”

“Thanks Kel.” Matt said, patting his friend on the knee. “You done baby?” Matt asked, noticing the few coughs I was letting out, but also the lack of vomit.

“Yeah.” I breathed, leaning forward and resting my head on Matt’s shoulder. “It’s awful.” I moaned, resting my forehead into the crook of his neck.

“I know.” Matt whispered, reaching up and wiping my face with the rag from my neck. “Wanna brush your teeth and shower before taking a nap?”

I nodded and tried to stand when Matt helped me up, but swayed dangerously as I suddenly became lightheaded.

“Woah.” Kelly said, bracing me from behind. “You okay?” He asked, keeping me steady with hands around my waist.

“Yeah.” I breathed. “Just lightheaded s’all.” I closed my eyes and leaned my head onto Matt’s shoulder again.

“I gotcha.” Matt said, picking me up and taking me toward the bathroom. “Can you grab her go bag Sev?” Matt called over his shoulder.

“On it.” Kelly replied, jogging toward the locker room.

Matt wasted no time in getting me to the bathroom. He sat me down on the counter and pulled my head back into his neck.

Herrmann came into the bathroom with a sprite in his hand. “Cindy used to have this problem. This outta help.” He said, placing the can on the other side of the sink. “I’ve got Mills running to get some popsicles too.”

“Thanks Chris.” Matt said. “You’re a good man.”

“Anything for her.” He said, rubbing my arm. “It’s gonna be okay. You just get to feeling better.” He then patted Matt on the shoulder. “Take care of my girl.”

“Always.” Matt said, turning and placing a kiss to my head as Herrmann walked out and Kelly walked in.

“Got your CFD hoodie.” Kelly said to Matt, “I got everything else out of her locker though. Toiletries and her clothes. Also grabbed your stuff too Case.” He said, putting everything on the counter. “Need anything else?”

“Nah.” Matt said, shaking his head as he looked around. “Just set some towels in here. I’m gonna shower with her. I don’t trust her balance.” He said, rubbing my back.

“Good man.” Kelly said, patting Matt on the back. “Holler if you need anything else.”

“Thanks Sev.” Matt said, watching the Squad lieutenant leave. Finally, he turned to face me. “Ready to get cleaned up?” He asked gently, pulling away to see my face.

“Then nap?” I murmured, pouting at my boyfriend.

“Nap and cuddles.” Matt confirmed, nodding his head.

With that confirmation, I was satisfied and found the strength to get cleaned up. After brushing my teeth and gargling twice, Matt helped me off the counter and to the showers. He sat me on the bench before striping and going in to turn on the water. With quick persuasion, Matt was able to talk me into the shower. He made promises to keep me steady and to sit me down if I needed it, seeing as Mills just finished scrubbing the showers.

Once under the water, which was a little cooler than I usually liked it, Matt kept a secure hold on my waist, leaned down and kissed my head, then adjusted me so that my back was getting the brunt of the shower.

“Mmmm.” I moaned, practically melting in Matt’s hold. “S’ nice.” I mumbled into Matt’s chest, pressing my forehead into it.

“I know baby.” Matt said. “We can stand here for a moment, but we need to get cleaned up and get you resting.” He said, reaching around me and engulfing me in a hug. “You just relax.” He whispered.

“Mkay.” I sighed, losing any fight I could have left.

When Matt noticed me getting heavier, he made quick work of washing my hair and body before calling Kelly.

Matt only trusted you with very few men, one of which was Kelly Severide. You all had made a quick bond when in the academy and Kelly picked you up off the floor more times than you could count, but that was before Matt. Matt didn’t like overstepping, but Kelly had no problems helping you out in a bind and was there for you in more ways at the beginning than Matt, but you knew it had to do with Haily and not because Matt didn’t like you, so you never let it affect your relationship now. Kelly knew his boundaries, even now, and was the one person you trust other than Matt.

Kelly walked into the bathroom and scooped you up in a towel. Once Kelly had the towel firmly secure, he took your microfiber head wrap towel and wrapped your hair up in it. Then, he helped guide you into Matt’s CFD hoodie and stayed with you leaning into his shoulder until Matt came out of the showers.

“Thanks Kelly.” Matt said. “One more favor.” Matt said, cringing slightly into himself. He hated asking for help, but you were pretty out of it at this point. “Mind getting more bags from Brett and Y/N’s fan from her bunk and taking it to my office?” He asked, pulling on his underwear and pants before trading with Kelly.

“Hey man.” Kelly said, taking Matt by the shoulder. “Don’t sweat it. You guys are family. I’ve already got it all taken care of.” He smirked.

“You’re a life saver.” Matt said, turning and hugging Kelly once he was sure you wouldn’t fall over.

“I get that a lot.” Kelly laughed, the sound echoing behind the man as he walked to the door and exited the bathroom.

Matt helped me into some pants and left our stuff, claiming he’d get it all later, but knowing that someone else was probably waiting to come in behind you both and get everything situated. Once in his office, Matt laid me down near the edge of the bed, closed the blinds, and turned off the lights. He left the blinds connected to Kelly’s office window cracked enough to give him some light to see you, but also give Kelly a way to see if you and Matt needed help.

Once the fan was turned on and he was sure the radio was turned off and I didn’t need anything else, Matt crawled into the bed behind me, spooning me with an arm around my waist. He carefully rubbed my stomach and placed little kisses on the back of my neck.

“Get some rest baby.” Matt whispered, peppering my shoulder with kisses before leaning up and kissing my cheek. “I’m with you. We will get through this.”

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#one chicago #one chicago x reader #matt casey #kelly severide #matt casey x reader #comfort #kelly severide x reader #fluff #pcos #tw emeto #tw emetophobia #emetophobia

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redlittlefoxari · 1 year ago

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Astarion Epilogue An Adventure in Making Life: Chapter Nine: Secrets Don’t Make Friends

Relationship: Astarion X Tav

Warnings: NSFW 18+, smut, blood, violence, sex, blood drinking, pregnancy.

Summary: Karlach barges in on Tav while she's about ready to come down for dinner. Spotting a Fully naked, and pregnant Tav.

Master List

People who wished to be tagged: @ofmyth-andmagicart @lunaredgrave

If you want to be tagged in future updates send me a message

12 weeks pregnant

Karlach’s eyes moved from your small baby bump to your face and back to the bump. There were so many emotions on her face, warring for control, the most prominent ones being hurt, confusion, anger, and happiness. They all tore across her face, and seeing her in this state broke your heart.

“What the fuck is going on.” Karlach walked further into the room, raising her voice as she did. “I thought you said that it was hard for elves to get pregnant? All that on the road earlier, and here you are, Pregnant.”

You quickly picked up a towel to cover yourself. “Keep it down.” You hushed her. “I know this looks bad, but let me explain.”

“Keep it down? Keep it down!?” You hushed her again. “You better get to explaining why didn’t you tell us? Does Astarion even know?”

“Oh, he knows…” You walked over to the bed where your clothes were laid out and sat down.

“So what, the two of you decided to have a child and found a sperm donor or something?” She waited for you to reply.

“No, it’s his child one hundred percent. Long story short, if a vampire has had enough blood and is sated, they can produce children.” You placed your hand on your stomach. “And if everything alines with elves, we can produce children, so one night about twelve weeks ago, Astarion had enough blood, and an elven soul was looking to be reincarnated. So now I am pregnant with a half-vampire baby.”

Karlach’s jaw hung open in surprise. “So why didn’t you tell us? That's amazing; we should be celebrating!”

Karlach closed the distance between the two of you, taking a seat on the bed next to you. She was a good foot and a half taller than you, so her tower form loomed over you a bit as she waited to hear why you and Astarion felt the need to keep this from them.

“I was scared.” You looked down at the floor. “Elven pregnancies are already high risk. and you mix that was a Vampire where we don’t have a whole lot of information… I don’t know.”

“But you're okay now… aren’t you? You’re so far along now; wouldn’t it be okay to tell us.” Her voice was low, an attribute that you didn’t see often in her.

“I don’t know. I’m still scared something could go wrong.” You could feel tears in your eyes starting to form. “What if I tell you all, Put it out into the universe, and something bad happens… what if I lose them and have to tell you all that they're gone…. I have to go through the loss of telling you over and over again.”

There it was, the fear that you kept to yourself. Not even Astarion knew why you were so adamant about keeping it a secret till you hit fourteen weeks. You just kept telling him you didn’t want to overshadow Gale’s celebration, but the truth was you feared that once you celebrated with friends, some cruel god would take the baby away from you.

You remember stories your mother had told you growing up that she herself had suffered three miscarriages until she finally conceived you. She had kept you secret until she couldn’t anymore, and that was well into her second trimester. It was just something that elves feared since it was a rare gift to have children, and most elves never got the chance to experience it. With the added factor of the baby being Astarion’s, your fears skyrocketed.

“Hey.” Karlach placed her hand on yours; it was warm, whereas yours was cold, the water on your skin making it hard to get warm.

You looked up at Karlach, her smile reaching her eyes, which also had tears in them.

“If any god even thinks of doing that, I’ll go to whatever plane they're on and kill them myself.” You let out a small laugh at her declaration. “I get why you did it… Gods, so when that arrow hit you… the two of your reactions make sense now.”

“We were terrified that we lost them…” The thought sent a jolt of fear to your heart. “I don’t know what I would have done if Astarion didn’t hear the heartbeat.”

“The little guy has a heartbeat…” Karlach stared at you in wonder. “Gods, that’s amazing…. You're amazing. May I?”

She gestured to your stomach, and you nodded. Her warm hand slipped beneath the towel to touch the swell of your bare belly. She wouldn’t feel anything, nor would Karlach be able to hear the heartbeat, but it felt nice having her be a part of the secret and her support. It also didn’t hurt that you were freezing, and she was nice and warm.

“You won’t be able to feel them kicking for a while, not till the third trimester.” You smiled at Karlach’s wonder.

“I just can’t believe that there is a child growing in there. What do you suppose it’s going to be? Boy or Girl?”

“I’m not sure. There is no way to tell short of asking a divination wizard, but I don’t want to know… I like to be surprised.” The thought of a boy scared you, though. You knew nothing about being a boy, and the idea of Astarion teaching them all his ways of being mischievous was scary.

“They are going to be beautiful judging by who their parents are.” Karlach pulled her hand away. “I understand why you kept this a secret, but why not tell us now? We’ll all help you keep this little one safe. Auntie K will be its number one bodyguard.” Karlach puffed out her chest.

“You are right, I suppose I should let you all in on the secret now since you know.” You reached for the white dress that would show off your bump and hesitated.

“I know you’re scared, but you got this. Astarion would never let anything happen to you or the baby.”

“I know. I just don’t want to mess anything up… He hasn’t really had a family. At least not one that he remembers.” You grab the fabric and bunch it up on your lap. “He doesn’t remember his mother and father. the family Cazador made was not even close to something that resembled a family; he just beat them and used them as slaves.” The thought burned white hot in your mind as you thought about everything that monster put him through.

“But now he has you.” Karlach’s voice was comforting. “And the baby.”

“And if something happens and I lose the baby, It’s like I’m taking another thing away from him.”

“You wouldn’t be taking anything away from me.” Astarion said in a quiet tone.

The two of you jumped as you turned to see Asatrion at the door, leaning on the door frame. He pushed off of the frame using his shoulder and entered the room, stopping just a few feet from where you and Karlach were seated on the bed.

“Karlach, would you give me and my fiancee some privacy? I need to remind her of something important.” His eyes never left yours as he spoke.

“Fiancee?” She looked at you.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that part too… sorry.” You didn’t look away from Astarion.

“We’ll you told me most of it.” She stood up and walked past Asatrion, reaching the door and pausing. “I won’t tell anyone… that’s for you to decide when and where you want to do so.”

She shot you one last smile and walked out, closing the door behind her as she did. The two of you stared at each other for several moments. You spoke first, not wanting to be in silence any longer.

“Were you listening the whole time?”

“Yes, When I noticed Karlach was gone, I hurried up her to get her before she got to you, but I was a few minutes too late.” He took a seat next to you. “Now, what is this about you keeping the baby a secret because you don’t want to take another family away from me?”

“It’s more than just that. So many things can go wrong, and if they do, I’ll be responsible for taking another family from you.” You spoke, and Astarion laughed. “How's that funny?”

“Because that is a silly thing to think and say, my love.” He cupped your face with his hands. “Karlach was right. I would not let that happen.”

“You can’t know that We attract bad. luck everywhere we go, pretty much. You’ve already lost so much of the family before you were a Vampire… the one when you were.”

“That one wasn’t a family. Cazador made us to be his slaves to make a small man feel big.” He scoffed. “The rats and bugs that often crawled around me were more family than he ever was. As for my family, before I was a vampire, I don’t remember them, so I have no comment on how they treated me.” He kissed your lips gently. “You and our child growing inside of you are my family, and there is nothing anyone will do to take that away from me. I would rip whoever apart if they tried.”

“So you think we should just tell everyone?”

“I think it is time to stop being so scared, darling, and start living; you are not your mother and are far past the point of losing this child. For gods sake, you got shot in the stomach, and our child shrugged it off like it was nothing. They are far stronger than you give them credit for.”

His statement makes you laugh. “You are right; they are. Just like their father.”

“Don’t forget their mother, too. How many arrows have I pulled out of you these past fifty years? Probably hundreds. The sacred tissue alone was probably enough to keep our child safe.” The two of you laughed lightly.

“What if we lose them?”

“Darling, it was a miracle that we conceived this baby, to begin with, so there must be a god out there that wants us to grace this realm with our beautiful child.” He kissed between your brows.

“I didn’t think of that…” You were beginning to feel foolish. Pregnancy brain, along with the fears your mother placed in you all those years ago, probably didn’t help you think clearly. “Next time, just hit me over the head when I’m not thinking clearly. “

“Will do, but it’s not entirely your fault. The standard practice for elves to keep this sort of thing a secret is kinda hammered into you.” He stood up and walked over to his bag. “Now, if we announce that we are going to be parents, I want to be a little more dressed up than this.” He gestured to what he was wearing. A white flowy shirt and standard black pants he always wore.

Asatrion reached into his bag and pulled out a red embroidered top. Gold was sewn into the top in a pattern that looked like dragons fighting amongst fire. It was gody and over the top and something that screamed for others' attention.

“Do you have anything else?” You also stood, dropping the towel from around you, and stepped into the white dress you were holding.

“What’s wrong with this?” He looked offended.

“It makes you look less like soon-to-be father and more like douchy Vampire lord.” You turned towards him, doing a twirl. “Something subtle like this, maybe?”

“Fine, I’ll wear my dark blue doublet.” He put the gody monstrosity back and pulled out a blue doublet with gold stars sewn into the fabric. He put the doublet on and huffed at you. “Happy?”

“Very.” You wove your arm into his so that the crook of your elbow was touching his. “Now, let's go; our child is telling me it's time to eat, and we don’t want to keep them waiting.”

“Of course not, the others certainly, but not our child.” Asatrion said as he smiled down at you.

The dress put you on full display. Your once smaller breasts were accented by a low neckline that plunged down past the bottom of your breasts. The fabric was smooth over your belly and showed the bump of where your child sat in the safety of your stomach. And a long slit just the length of your dress where you could feel the coolness of the tower.

“I’m never wearing pants again.” You said, reveling in how you felt free and not constricted by any waistband.

“And I told you that I’m fine with that it makes it easier to have you whenever I would like; all I would need to do is bend you over and pull up your skirts.” Asatrion leaned down and bit your ear.

You shuddered. “I don’t think we have time to test that… Our baby needs substance.”

“Of course, But after we are fed, I’m going to eat you alive.” He growled his statement into your ear.

A wave of heat went through you. Astarion kindling your arousal. “We better eat fast than.”

You began moving to the dining hall. Each step becomes more complicated than the last. You fought with every fiber of your being to go towards the Dining hall wearing this dress. To tell your friends that secret that the two of you had been keeping all this time. The questions that they would surely ask. You stood at the door and hesitated.

“Are you ready?” Astarion looked at you, eyebrows raised.

“I will be once my heart stops beating so damn fast.” You took a few steading breaths and then nodded to him to open the door.

Astarion flung the door open wide, and you watched as everyone stopped their conversations to look at the two of you. From where everyone was sitting, they would not be able to see the bump that was protruding out from your dress. You watched as Karlach was practically buzzing next to Wyll in excitement. She really was trying her hardest not to let your secret out.

The two of you walked forward toward your friends slowly, fear still gripping your heart. Astarion reached with his other hand and patted your arm. “Everything will be fine.”

“What took the two of you so long?” Gale sounded annoyed as he stood from where he was sitting. “I thought when Karlach went up to get you, you would come down, but then she came down and has been acting like that every since.”

You looked towards her to find that she had a hand placed over her lips and looked like she was going to explode.

“I’m sorry, Gale, it’s my fault. I was having some personal issues I needed to work through.” You had reached the head of the table where your friends were sitting.

You unlaced your arm from Astarion’s and made it easier for everyone to see your baby bump. The whole table stared in shock as Astarion pulled out your chair so that you could sit down. You took your seat. and the table was still silent as Astarion also took his next to you.

Astarion looked around at everyone’s faces. “Well, go on, one of you say something. It’s almost as if you’ve never seen an elf pregnant with a Vampire’s child before.” Astarion grabbed a wine glass and took a long sip as the table erupted with questions.

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thelonelyfairy · 7 months ago

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Fractured Bonds

Chapter 2

(Toshinori x Reader x Aizawa)

Note: this chapter has about 7k words so buckle up! Also there won’t be any scenes between Toshinori and reader on this one so gather up Aizawa girlies 🫶 lastly, this chapter will contain spoilers from either season 4 or 5, you can stop reading after “the work-study program has always been…”

Update: Added a fanart of Aizawa/Reader (Yan) at the end made by the lovely @mananeez!

Masterlist Chapter 1 ch3

You finally caved in to Recovery Girl’s persistent requests to accompany Class 1-A on their USJ visit, given their frequent trips to the infirmary and avoiding more headaches on her end. Funny how fate plays out sometimes.

She had reassured you that Toshinori would be present, easing your worries about any direct interaction with your ex.

But as roll call begins and the students boarding the bus, All Might was nowhere to be found.

Sitting across from Aizawa, your nerves begin to stir in your chest. Your Kitsune picks up on it, curling in your lap and radiating warmth, calming the tension in your body.

In the back, the students laugh and bicker, showing how well they’d bonded despite Bakugo’s frequent outbursts. You tried to stifle a laugh but couldn’t hold it back.

It had been a long time since Aizawa had heard your laughter, or seen a genuine smile on your face. Far too long.

When the bus arrives at the arena, the scale of the place leaves you just as awestruck as the students. You’d never seen such a massive training center. As you all enter, Aizawa informs you that they’d be working with Thirteen, who soon briefs the students on the Unforeseen Simulation Joint and today’s focus on rescue abilities. She explains her Quirk, Black Hole. Dangerous, but capable of saving lives if handled correctly.

Once that’s all finished, Aizawa approaches Thirteen, “Let me guess, All Might booked an interview instead.”

A soft scoff leaves you before Thirteen announces the inconvenience, “Apparently he did too much hero work on the way to school this morning and used up all his power, he’s resting in the teacher’s lounge.”

Of course, you know that man well enough that he goes out of his way to care for his people, not for fame nor for money. You can already imagine him feeling guilty and helpless while Principal Nezu rambling his ass off about his philosophies.

“That man is the height of irresponsibility.” Aizawa sighs.

“Irresponsible or not, he’s still the Symbol of Peace. He’ll be back soon enough.” You counter, ex lover or not, you’ll go to the moon and back to defend Toshinori just like he did for you.

“Clock’s ticking,” Aizawa announces, disregarding your comment, “we should get started.”

Before you can dwell on it further, the air shifts, a subtle disturbance you can’t quite place. Your Kitsune leaves your body, ears twitching, sensing it as well as it growls. You glance toward Aizawa, who’s already on alert, his sharp eyes scanning the perimeter with Thirteen immediately on guard.

A dark, swirling portal materializes in the center of the USJ, figures begin to emerge—villains. Dozens of them. More than you’ve ever seen gathered in one place. The students freeze, their confusion quickly turning into fear.

“Aizawa!” you call, your voice tight with urgency.

“I see it,” he mutters, stepping forward, his scarf already unraveling as he places on his goggles.

“Stay back with the students. This is no place for you right now.” Without hesitation, he leaps forward, his capture scarf trailing behind him like a shadow.

You grit your teeth, instinctively wanting to rush forward, but you know he’s right. Your job is to protect the students first. You’re a nurse, after all. Your Kitsune begins to swirl around the students protectively as you turn toward the group of wide-eyed students.

“Let’s get to safety,” you command, ushering them toward the back exit, your voice calm despite the chaos around you.

The portal continues to spew out villains, and you can see Aizawa already in motion, darting into the fray. He’s a blur of calculated strikes, his scarf snapping out like a whip, disabling the quirks of those who dare get too close. But the numbers are overwhelming, and even Aizawa, as skilled as he is, can only handle so much at once.

“It’s locked!” Thirteen calls out, as you try to budge with your Kitsune’s strength, all but no hope.

A sickening sound cuts through the air. You whip around, your blood turning cold. Aizawa, mid-battle, is slammed to the ground by multiple villains. He struggles to get up, his scarf moving about to throw them unconscious as blood drips from his forehead, staining the ground beneath him.

Your heart stops. He’s injured. Badly.

You freeze, torn between staying with the students and rushing to Aizawa’s side. The instinct to protect him overwhelms you, but you can’t just leave these kids defenseless.

Panic claws at you from all sides, what are you supposed to do? Save Aizawa, or stay here and protect the students like you promised?

"Fox Face!" Thirteen's voice slices through your spiraling thoughts, her hand firm on your shoulder, her tone calm yet urgent. "Go. I’ve got things here. The students are safe with me, and we trust you—you were All Might’s sidekick after all." Her words hang in the air as the students nod in agreement, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and trust.

You hesitate for just a second, but Thirteen’s steady gaze holds yours. "He needs you."

That’s all it takes.

Without a second thought, your Kitsune retreats back to your body, its strength surges through you, its aura radiating from your body, your eyes glowing as your iris turns into slits. As you teleport straight to Aizawa’s side. The world blurs, and you appear in a swirl of glowing sakura blossoms, kunai ready.

Aizawa flinches as the pain in his body suddenly begins to ease. Bruises and cuts start to repair, your healing ofudas floating toward him, their energy absorbed into his skin. The warmth floods through his muscles, easing his exhaustion like a switch had been flipped—but that relief is quickly replaced by something sharper, anger.

"What the hell are you doing?" he snaps, his voice harsh as he pushes himself up, locking eyes with you from behind his goggles. "I told you to stay back with the students!"

"How are you supposed to fight if you’re injured?" you counter, approaching as you’re unfazed by his outburst, raising your hand to heal a cut on his brow.

"I’m fine," he growls, swatting away your hand. "You should’ve stayed with the kids. This isn’t—"

Before he can finish, a villain charges at you both. Reacting on instinct, you wrap your arms around Aizawa—feeling unexpected muscle beneath his dark uniform—before teleporting the two of you a few meters away in a flash of light. The villain stumbles in confusion, giving Aizawa the perfect opening. He regains his footing, whipping his scarf out to disarm the enemy and bring them down with brutal efficiency.

But his scowl remains.

"You’re reckless," he mutters as the fight continues, frustration lacing his words.

"And you’re stubborn," you shoot back, pulling a kunai strapped from your thigh and throwing it with precision, hitting another villain dead-on. "We’re a team. I’m not letting you face this alone."

Aizawa’s eyes narrow beneath his goggles, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, you both fall into a familiar rhythm, your movements perfectly in sync. You teleport into the fray, kunai slicing through the air with lethal accuracy, powered by your Kitsune’s spirit. Aizawa stays close, his scarf whipping through the chaos, disabling any villains who try to flank you.

It’s almost like old times—each of your moves complementing the other, his reflexes sharpening your attacks while you provide support and healing when needed.

But beneath the surface, Aizawa’s frustration simmers, it’s practically in the air, you know the conversation isn’t far from over.

As you glance toward the edge of the arena, your eyes lock onto a strange trio standing near the center of the USJ. One man appears to have no physical form, swirling with the same dark color as the portal that brought the villains into the facility. Beside him stands a beast, assuming to wield a mutation quirk, and the third—a white-haired man—observing the battle with a chilling detachment.

Whoever they are, they’re not just bystanders.

“Nomu…”

The voice catches you off guard—unexpectedly high-pitched, especially coming from the white-haired man whose intimidating physique suggests something much deeper. His red-rimmed eyes lock onto yours, and for a brief moment, everything else fades into the background. The battle, the noise, the chaos—it all blurs, and you’re left staring into the void that seems to echo within him.

Your breath catches as something deep inside you stirs, a pressure inside your chest that twists uncomfortably, almost suffocating, as if an invisible chain is tightening around you. Your Kitsune spirit trembles, and for the first time, you feel its power falter. Panic flickers in your veins, but you force it down, refusing to let him see your fear.

Your fingers twitch at your kunai, instinct urging you to move, to do something, but you’re frozen—eyes locked with his. He takes a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours.

The man tilts his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as a twisted smile hinted beneath the decaying hand covering the lower half of his face.

"Her."

The Nomu lunges, unleashing its power against you.

Aizawa panicked, quickly throwing off the villains that were pinning him down and sprinting to your side. You'd only ever stopped Toshinori's full strength once, and even then, you weren't sure if he was using everything he had. But one thing was clear is this beast, this Nomu, is at least as strong as Toshinori, if not more so.

Your feet barely touches the ground as Nomu's iron grip closes around your neck, squeezing the air from your lungs.

Your feet barely touched the ground as Nomu's iron grip closed around your neck, squeezing the air from your lungs. The Kitsune inside you fought to keep you conscious, but the lack of oxygen was making your vision blur.

The Nomu hurls you into the corner, near the water of the shipwreck, its gaze locking onto yours as you struggle to catch your breath. Before you can react, it wraps your wrists in one of its massive hands and starts dragging you toward the white haired man. You curse under your breath, teleporting was impossible with its grip on you.

"Aren't you going to save your little friend, EraserHead?" The man's voice remains disturbingly calm.

Without hesitation, Aizawa charges forward, the man doing the same.

Aizawa lands a sharp elbow to the man's stomach, but the villain swiftly grabs his arm in a tight grip.

You can't hear their exchange, only the sickening sound of skin decaying and Aizawa's pained gasp.

“Fox Face!” Aizawa shouts, shoving the villain aside with force as he sees your eyes close, your head slumping forward as the Nomu releases its hold on you. Your body collapses to the ground, unconscious.

“By the way…” the Nomu moves to stand beside its master. For the first time since his school days, Aizawa’s body freezes, paralyzed, unable to tell if you’re still breathing.

“I am not the final boss.”

The Nomu lands a brutal hit, leaving Aizawa’s goggles in the air, his blood pooling around, painting the ground crimson as the Nomu begins to grab a fistful of his hair, smashing his face to the ground over and over.

"Oh, before we go, let’s make sure the Symbol of Peace is shattered," the man’s red eyes lock onto your still body.

His hand moves toward you, deliberately slow, each finger stretching out as it inches closer to the top of your head, ready to make contact with all five fingers. He could already see it, the decay of All Might’s previous sidekick, presumed lover, all in ashes. Nothing.

But none came.

The man chuckles, “You really are so cool.”

With all of his might, Aizawa lifts his head, his blood spilling on his face as the cluster of veins and redness of his eyes holds you in place. Breathing or not, he can’t fathom the idea of you out of his existence.

Many years ago

The first day at U.A. High School was a whirlwind, with you still adjusting to your new classmates. You stood beside your brother, Oboro Shirakumo, who was already chatting with two students. As always, Shirakumo’s bright personality drew people in, while you kept more to yourself, quietly observing.

"Hey! This is my sister, Yan!" Shirakumo suddenly announced, pulling you into the conversation as he introduced you to the two classmates, Hizashi and Nemuri. The unexpected attention made you flinch slightly. "She’s gonna wipe the floor with all of you, just watch!" His grin earned a chuckle from Hizashi, while Nemuri raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"Nice to meet you!" Nemuri said playfully. "I’ll believe it when I see it."

You laughed lightly, still unaccustomed to the spotlight. Before you could respond, your gaze was drawn to a student standing off to the side. He was tall, quiet, with shaggy black hair partially covering his face. His arms were crossed, and he seemed disinterested in the lively conversation unfolding nearby.

"That’s Aizawa," Shirakumo leaned over, noticing your wandering eyes. "He’s a bit quiet, but he’s sharp. Really smart."

As if sensing the conversation, Aizawa glanced in your direction. You quickly looked away, but not before noticing the intrigue in his eyes.

A few months into the school year, you headed towards training grounds on your own, bathed in the fading light of the setting sun. Most students had gone home, but you remained, practicing your kunai throws. Each one hit the bullseye, but something felt off. No matter how perfect the throws were, they didn’t feel right.

"You're overthinking it."

Startled, you turned sharply, cursing yourself for not noticing Aizawa standing by the fence. He leaned against it, arms crossed, as silent and unreadable as ever.

"What do you mean?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He hops over with no trouble as he approaches slowly, his footsteps deliberate. "Your movements are stiff. You’re second-guessing every throw." His voice was calm and matter-of-fact, though not harsh.

You huffed, glancing back at the target. “Alright then, what do I need to work on?”

Aizawa stepped closer, his presence oddly calming despite his usual stoic demeanor. “Don’t think. Just throw.”

You hesitated, feeling an unexpected flutter in your chest. His gaze was sincere, and there was a softness in his expression you hadn’t noticed before. With a deep breath, you pushed away your nerves, refocused on the target, and let the kunai fly.

The blade sailed through the air and struck dead center.

Aizawa gave a small nod. “See? You’re better when you trust yourself.”

"Guess I owe you one," you said, half-joking but grateful.

Aizawa shrugged, his usual stoic air returning, though there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Just don’t overdo it. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard about that hero work study.”

As the sunlight bathed the training field, you noticed how it caught Aizawa’s features—the sharp angles of his face, his dark hair falling messily over his eyes. In that moment, he was no longer just your classmate or your brother’s best friend. There was something more, something that made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected.

His eyes lingered on yours for a moment, and you thought you saw a flicker of warmth in his usual cool gaze.

"Good luck with that," he added, his tone softer than usual, almost teasing.

Aizawa turned to leave, a small, rare smile crossed Aizawa’s face as he disappeared from view, leaving you standing there with a sense that something between you had shifted.

In the second year, the U.A. training grounds buzzed with activity as students prepared for their now-mandatory hero work studies. Amid the hustle, Aizawa stood apart, a frown creasing his brow as doubt clouded his thoughts. Watching his classmates give their all, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of not measuring up. The weight of expectations sat heavily on him, and the thought of failure gnawed at his confidence.

“Hey,” you called, approaching more quicker as you note the tension in his posture. “What’s wrong? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Aizawa glanced at you, frustration and embarrassment flickering across his face as he gently pushed away your healing ofudas. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this mandatory work study. Everyone else seems to have it figured out.”

“You’re an amazing hero, Aizawa. Don’t let self-doubt trip you up. You just need to train harder and trust yourself.”

He shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “It’s not that simple, and your overly cheery advice isn’t exactly helping.”

“Well, let’s train together, then,” you offered, brushing off his cold response with determination shining in your eyes. “I owed you one from last time anyways.”

He raised an eyebrow, “You really think I need help?”

“Everyone needs help sometimes,” you shrug.

After a moment of hesitation, Aizawa nodded, and the two of you moved to a quieter section of the training grounds that already had a series of obstacles placed around, demonstrating your agility with the Kitsune energy swirling around you, leaping, dodging, and striking with precision. Aizawa watched closely, studying every movement as you flawlessly navigated the course.

“Your turn,” you said, stepping aside to give him space. “Focus on agility and timing. Don’t let your quirk limit you.”

With a deep sigh, Aizawa stepped forward, determined to overcome his doubts. He began working through the obstacles, his performance mixed with moments of success and frustration. Each misstep weighed on him, feeding the sense of pressure.

“Don’t let your mind get in the way. Trust your instincts.”

Taking a deep breath, he tried again, concentrating harder. Slowly, with each attempt, he began to improve, but the doubts still lingered. He glanced your way, seeing nothing but encouragement in your eyes.

“You’re doing great!” you cheered, your enthusiasm lifting his spirits.

Fueled by your support, Aizawa pushed himself harder. The obstacles seemed less intimidating, and with every completed run, he felt his confidence build.

“Now try using your quirk!” you encouraged.

He nodded, activating his quirk, his hair lifting as his eyes glowed red with his scarf extended, helping him move through the course more fluidly. The challenge increased, but so did his sense of accomplishment.

“See? You’ve got this!” you called, clapping your hands in excitement. “All you needed was to believe in yourself!”

Breathing heavily, Aizawa finally stopped, a rare smile breaking through his stoic exterior as blinks, his hair fell forward to mask it. “I think I’m starting to get the hang of it,” he said, a quiet pride settling in.

You approached him, beaming. “I knew you could do it! Just remember, you don’t have to shoulder everything on your own.”

The moon hung low in the sky, bathing the quiet streets of Musutafu in a soft, silvery glow. As you walked toward your family’s apartment, your mind wandered after a long day at U.A. Absentmindedly, you kicked a pebble down the dimly lit alleyways, your Kitsune spirit lazily trailing behind.

Passing a narrow alley, your Kitsune suddenly turned, drawn by something. You followed its gaze and froze. There, slumped against a wall wrapped in his familiar capture weapon, was Aizawa. His dark hair obscured his face, and his sharp eyes were closed in exhausted sleep. His chest rose and fell steadily, but the scene was far from peaceful.

You stood still, staring in disbelief as your Kitsune spirit retreated back into your body. “Aizawa?” you whispered, the sight of him sleeping in an alley catching you off guard.

The realization hit hard. You knew Aizawa well enough to understand his desire to keep things private, but this? You had no idea it had gotten this bad. He always seemed so self-reliant, never asking for help, yet here he was, sleeping in an alleyway, leaving your heart dropping to your stomach.

You crouched beside him, hesitant, your hand hovering before pulling it back. "Aizawa," you whispered again, this time softer.

He stirred, his eyes fluttering open. Groggily, he squinted up at you. "Yan?" His voice was barely audible.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, though the answer was painfully clear. “You’re… sleeping here?”

He sat up slowly, running a hand through his disheveled hair, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. “Just… had nowhere to go tonight.”

Your chest tightened at his admission. “How long has this been going on?” you asked gently, trying not to push too hard.

Aizawa shrugged, his usual stoic demeanor cracking. “A while,” he said quietly. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll manage.”

“Manage?” you echoed in disbelief. “Aizawa, you’re sleeping in an alley. This is not okay.”

He fell silent, staring at the ground. You could tell he hated this—hated the vulnerability, the pity. No wonder he’d been dozing off in class so much recently.

Without hesitation, you stood and offered him a hand. “Come on,” you said firmly.

“What?” Aizawa frowned, confused.

“You’re not staying here. You’re coming with me. You can sleep at my place.”

He hesitated, concern flickering in his eyes. “Yan, I can’t—”

“I’m not giving you a choice,” you interrupted, leaving no room for debate. “You can sneak into my room through the window. No one will know, not even Oboro—he’s always glued to his computer all night. You can stay as long as you need.”

Aizawa stared at you, torn. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden,” you reassured him, your voice softening. “We’re friends, right? What did I say last time? You don’t have to shoulder everything alone.”

He sighed, exhaustion winning out over his pride. “If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure,” you smiled. “And don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

After a moment, he reluctantly took your hand. You bit back a cringe as you helped him to his feet. “Thanks,” he muttered, his gratitude quiet but genuine.

“Anytime,” you reassured, already planning out how to sneak him in unnoticed.

As the two of you made your way back to your apartment, you kept glancing at him, your heart heavy for the boy who carried more than anyone realized.

When you reached the fire escape, your Kitsune lowered the ladder with ease, and soon, you were both standing outside your window.

“Take off your clothes,”

Aizawa blinked, stunned. “Wh—?”

“Not like that!” you spoke in a low enough for him to hear, “You were sleeping in an alley. I don’t want all that in my room!” You kicked off your shoes, placing it at the fire escape balcony you’re both on and slid open the window, relieved that your mother did not lock it this time.

He chuckled, remembering your slight germaphobia from class. He quickly shed his outer clothes, folding them at the other end of the balcony along with his capture weapon, leaving only his undergarments as you instructed.

“I’ll get the shower ready,” you inform as you head toward the bathroom, your bathroom.

Aizawa couldn’t help but notice how different your lifestyle was—quietly wealthy but never flaunted. The Shirakumo family definitely raised both you and Oboro well, something he wished his own family would’ve done.

You motioned for him to follow, “There’s a fresh towel and some unused toiletries over there…” He glanced around, noticing the pink, white, and floral décor—completely opposite of his usual style.

“The soap and shampoo are floral-scented too,” you added with a slight apology. “So, you might end up smelling kind of...girly. Hope that’s okay.”

He chuckled softly. “I don’t mind. Thanks for everything.”

You left him to his privacy and went to grab some blankets and pillows, hoping he wouldn’t mind what you had. Mentally, you made a note to pick up something more suited to his taste tomorrow after school.

After his quick shower, wrapped in floral-scented towels, he settled near your bed, sinking into the plush pillows and blankets you’d laid out for him.

As you handed him a blanket to pull himself over, your hands brushed for a brief second. You face reddens while Aizawa allowed himself a small, grateful smile in return, hopefully he’ll like this one more than the others.

“Hello Kitty?”

You sigh, before you can apologize, he asks, “Wait, who's this one?”

“Ah that’s Chococat!” Your voice still hushed, “he’s a quiet cat, of course you’d like him,”

Aizawa released a soft chuckle, “Thanks, Yan,”

“Of course, Aizawa,” you replied, settling into bed yourself.

“Shouta,” he corrected, his voice gentle. “Call me Shouta from now on.”

Your eyes widened at the request, but before you could respond, he had already pulled the blanket over himself, the exhaustion finally winning over. For the first time in a long while, he looked at ease. As you settled into bed, you made a quiet promise to always be there for him, no matter what.

The night was quiet, the faint rustling of leaves outside barely breaking the stillness as Shouta lay in the dark, wrapped in the Chococat blanket you’d given him with a matching pajama that you bought, he offered a quiet thanks, when deep down he grew fond of the black cartoon cat. Months had passed since the incident, and he stared at the ceiling of your small room, exhaustion sinking deep into his bones. It had been a long day—made longer by the clear realization that you had sneaked him into your home, offering a kindness he wasn’t sure he deserved.

He absentmindedly flipped through his English book, one with a romance theme, occasionally thinking about words to describe you. Yet, ‘beautiful’ just didn’t seem to cut it.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find the right words. What you meant to him, how he felt for you—there were no terms that fit. Maybe it was a failure of the English language, or maybe it was just him struggling to understand his own feelings.

No one had ever taught Shouta how to love. He’d never planned to, not until he met you.

What he did know was that you were captivating in every way, and it was becoming increasingly hard to focus on the pages in front of him.

Just as he was about to give up, a sound broke through the silence—soft, but unmistakable.

You stirred restlessly in your bed, your breaths uneven and ragged, and Shouta immediately sat up, his senses alert.

"Yan?" he whispered, concern laced in his voice.

You didn’t answer. Your face was twisted with distress as your body tense, trapped in a nightmare. Another whimper escaped your lips as you shifted under the covers, bracing yourself against some unseen terror.

Shouta hesitated. He wasn’t good at comforting people. But seeing you like this, his instincts took over. After all you’d done for him—giving him a place to stay, helping with his hero work studies—this was the least he could do.

He got up from his makeshift bed and quietly approached yours. “Yan,” he called softly, gently placing a hand on your arm, giving you a light shake. "It’s not real, wake up."

Your eyes shot open suddenly, your breath catching in your throat as you sat upright. For a moment, you seemed lost, your gaze unfocused, until you finally registered where you were—and who was beside you.

“Shouta?” you gaze up, your voice hoarse from the remnants of the nightmare.

"Yeah," he replied softly, his hand still on your arm. "You were having a nightmare."

You exhaled shakily, trying to compose yourself. "I’m sorry," you muttered, your voice trembling. "I didn’t mean to wake you."

"You didn’t," he assured you. "You’re alright?"

You nodded, though the trembling in your hands said otherwise. You were trying to hide it, but Shouta could see how much the nightmare had shaken you.

After a pause, he gently slid his hand away. “Do you… want to talk about it?"

You shook your head, your shoulders slumping. "No, it’s the same as always. They come and go."

Shouta remained silent, eyes downcast. He knew what it was like to not want to talk about things, so he didn’t push. But something inside him urged him to offer more.

“Move over,” he said quietly, before he could second-guess himself.

You blinked, taken aback. “What?”

He glanced at the narrow space on your bed. “Just… move over.”

Though surprised, you shifted to make room. Shouta climbed in beside you, lying on his back and pulling the blanket over the both of you. He didn’t say anything more, but his presence spoke volume.

You looked over at him, still shaken but feeling comforted by the quiet gesture. “You don’t have to—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his voice steady. “But I’m here.”

For a while, neither of you spoke. The room was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city. Slowly, your breathing steadied, the nightmare’s grip loosening with Shouta’s presence beside you. You found yourself watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, his calmness grounding you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, barely audible.

Shouta didn’t reply, but you felt him shift a little closer, his arm brushing yours in a simple yet comforting touch. He wasn’t one for flowery words, but his actions were louder than anything he could say.

With him beside you, your eyes began to grow heavy again. For the first time in a while, you felt truly safe—as if your nightmares couldn’t reach you with Shouta there.

Just before you drifted off, you whispered, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Shouta lowered his gaze, his expression softening as he watched the peacefulness return to your face. “Me too,”

The U.A. School Festival was in full swing, and Class 2-A had chosen to put on a theatrical performance as their contribution. They all agreed a play would be the perfect way to showcase their quirks while providing some lighthearted entertainment. The theme? A dramatic fantasy adventure—complete with a brave knight, a cunning sorceress, a wise king, and, Shouta, much to his reluctance, had been cast as the villain— a dragon disguised as a dark sorcerer.

The auditorium buzzed with excitement, the audience eagerly awaiting the show. The lights dimmed, and the curtains rose.

“Fear not, I will save the kingdom from the evil sorcerer’s clutches!” Shirakumo bellowed, swinging his sword with exaggerated flair. His armor gleamed under the stage lights as he charged forward.

Dressed in a flowing gown, you stood at the edge of the stage, your Kitsune spirit subtly swirling around you, adding an ethereal touch. “Be careful, noble knight,” you said with a serious tone, barely managing to keep a straight face, “The dark sorcerer’s power is too great!”

Behind the curtains, Shouta sighed, waiting for his cue.

Hizashi entered in bright royal robes and a ridiculous crown, brimming with energy as the king. “You must save my daughter and defeat the dragon! The kingdom’s fate is in your hands!” He waved his arms dramatically, earning laughter from the crowd.

Nemuri, in her sorceress costume, floated onto the stage in a puff of smoke, trying not to accidentally use her quirk and knock the audience out. She tossed an apple to Shirakumo with a smirk. “With this, you shall gain the strength to defeat the dragon. But beware—his magic is dangerous.”

Finally, Shouta stepped onto the stage, tall and brooding, his dark aura accentuated by his flowing hair and glowing red eyes. The crowd gasped. He stood in silence for a moment, letting the tension build before delivering his line in a low, gravelly voice. “Foolish mortals, you cannot hope to defeat me.”

Shirakumo, ever the energetic knight, took a bite of the apple before throwing it to the side, pointing his sword at Shouta as the final battle began. He eventually stood triumphantly over Shouta, the crowd holding its breath, anticipating the princess’s moment to thank the knight.

But then, Shirakumo collapsed flat on his face.

The audience murmured in confusion as Shirakumo lay motionless on the stage, clearly out of character. You blinked down at him, unsure of what to do—this wasn’t in the script.

Nemuri leaned over Shirakumo’s ‘unconscious’ body, a mischievous grin on her face as she added a dramatic pause. “It seems the knight has fallen,” she purred. “Perhaps the apple was too much for him,” drawing laughter from the crowd.

“And perhaps… there’s another way to save the kingdom.”

You glanced at her, eyebrows raised, lines completely forgotten. From backstage, Hizashi stifled a laugh, and the atmosphere shifted.

Shouta, still playing the dark sorcerer, looked down at Shirakumo before his glowing red eyes settled on you. His expression was unreadable, though his eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to figure out what was happening. Nemuri threw a sly wink in your direction.

“Uh…” you stammered, scrambling to stay in character. “How else can the kingdom be saved?”

Nemuri, grinning fully now, stood up and dramatically pointed at Shouta. “The sorcerer has not been defeated, but perhaps… love can conquer even the darkest magic.”

The audience began to murmur, some whispering to each other, wondering if this was even part of the original script.

Before you could react, Hizashi’s voice boomed from offstage, clearly enjoying this far too much. “Yes! Love is the key!” Nemuri pushed on, “Princess, you must act quickly before the kingdom falls into eternal darkness!”

Shouta stood there, expression stoic but unwavering, his eyes locked on yours. It was too late to back down now.

Stepping forward, you felt the weight of the audience’s gaze. You met Shouta’s eyes, and for a moment, it felt like the entire stage had faded away, leaving just the two of you.

Taking a deep breath, you whispered, “I suppose… this is how the kingdom is saved.” Your heart raced as you placed a hand on his chest, your gaze never leaving his.

Shouta, ever composed, raised an eyebrow in silent question, and you gave a subtle nod. He leans in, gently raising your chin before closing the gap between you. The soft touch of his lips against yours sent a spark through you, the kiss gentle but lingering.

The crowd gasped in unison, and whistles broke out from the back, undoubtedly from Hizashi. The kiss deepened for a brief moment before you pulled away, your face flushed, Shouta’s usually stoic expression softened with something unspoken as his hair settled and his eyes returned to normal.

Behind you, Nemuri let out a dramatic sigh. “Behold!” she declared, arms outstretched. “The princess has saved the kingdom with the power of love!”

The audience erupted into applause and cheers, some students laughing at the unexpected twist, while others swooned at the romantic turn.

You turned to face the crowd, your cheeks still burning, only to see Shirakumo peeking one eye open from the floor, barely suppressing his laughter.

“That… wasn’t part of the script,” you muttered, catching your breath.

Shouta, back to his usual calm demeanor, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

As the curtain fell, Nemuri and Hizashi bounded over, grinning from ear to ear.

“That was genius!” Hizashi cheered, clapping you both on the back and nearly knocking you into each other. “Way better than what we had planned!”

Nemuri winked at you. “I knew it would be perfect. Who doesn’t love a good plot twist?”

You glanced at Shouta, hesitating, silently wondering if he felt the same way. He sighed, a faint smile still on his face. “You’re overthinking,” he muttered before gently pulling you backstage.

“None of you better knock unless you’d want my scarf wrapped around your throats.”

The end of the school year was fast approaching, and with it, the looming reality of graduation. You sat on the edge of the fire escape balcony as the sun begins to set, your legs dangling over as the cool breeze plays with your hair. Beside you, Shouta leans back against the building, a shoulder wrapped around you with his usual calm demeanor slightly more relaxed than normal.

You sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. "Graduation feels… weird. Like we’ve been working toward it for so long, and now that it’s here, it doesn’t feel real."

Shouta nodded, "Yeah. Everything’s about to change." He paused, glancing at you. "What about you? Have you figured out where you’re going after this?"

You smiled, though her eyes were distant. "I’m not sure yet. Hopefully anything within the medical field, or maybe in a rescue agency.,” you shrugged. "It’s just an idea. What about you?”

Shouta shifted slightly, "There’s plenty of work to do here. A lot of people who need protection, me, Oboro and Yamada were actually thinking of opening our own agency."

You turned to face him fully, a slight smile on your lips. "You think we can make it work? We’re gonna be super busy, maybe even needing to relocate,"

He met your gaze, his dark eyes steady and serious. "We’ll make it work. I’m not worried about that, if this agency thing works out, it’ll be enough to have our own place.”

You reached out to take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "I like that confidence."

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his lips quirking up into a rare smile. "I have to be confident. You’re a handful."

You laughed, the sound light and melodic, a sound that Shouta would never get bored of.

"Just know that I’m not letting you go that easily, Yan."

The work-study program had always been a crucial part of training, but with graduation so close, it felt like this was everyone’s final real-world test before stepping into full-fledged hero careers. You, Shouta, and your classmates were deployed to different areas of the city. You were no longer simple students—You were all heroes in training, and the safety of civilians rested in your hands.

You were assigned at Tatami Ward, where a massive villain, Garvey, was causing havoc. Garvey was no ordinary villain; According to his rapport, he had a powerful stockpiling quirk, allowing him to absorb attacks and release them with devastating force. His rampage had left parts of the city in ruins, and backup was immediately called in.

After a quick briefing, saying your goodbyes to your friends and a kiss to your lover, to which he promised he’ll keep your brother safe before you all part ways.

You were stationed with Hizashi, responsible for ensuring civilians were evacuated safely and tending to the injured. As the EMTs worked tirelessly to treat those who were wounded, you used your Kitsune spirit to heal and protect those who were caught in the crossfire.

Everything seemed to be going well on your end—no civilian casualties, thanks to Kitsune's healing abilities. But there was still worry in your heart. You hadn’t heard much from Aizawa or Oboro since the battle began, and the uncertainty gnawed at you.

You pressed the speaker in your ear, checking for updates. "Shouta? Oboro? Are you there?" You called out. Aizawa was mumbling, unable to catch his words , you tried again with Oboro, only to meet a sharp ringing on his end that you quickly shut off.

Your mind began to race. Shouta had a habit of focusing intensely during battle, so it wasn’t entirely unusual for him to ignore communications. But Oboro—he would never leave you hanging like this.

"Something’s wrong," you muttered to yourself. You spotted Hizashi’s ship, given from the Buster Union agency as he landed near you and immediately rushed over.

“Hizashi, please,” you begged, grabbing his arm. “I need to go where Shouta and Oboro are. Something’s wrong, they aren’t responding to me.”

Hizashi, always quick to react when it came to his friends, nodded without question. He brought you aboard, and the two of you soared towards the last known location of Shouta and Oboro. As you got closer, the smoke and debris became clearer, and your stomach twisted in knots.

When you two arrived, the battle was already over. Garvey lay unconscious, his colossal form defeated by Aizawa and Oboro’s teamwork. You sigh with relief at the sight of the downed villain, but something felt off.

"Shouta!" You called out, rushing toward him. But

your breath caught in your throat when you followed his gaze.

Oboro's lower body lay crumpled, toppled by multiple amounts of boulders as blood began to stain the concrete.

“No,” you whispered, stumbling toward, ignoring the blood splashing the soles of your shoes. “No, no, no!” Your Kitsune spirit frantically tries to sense any life left in him. There was nothing.

"He’s gone…" Shouta whispers,

Oboro had been there for your whole life, through everything, the one who always made you laugh when the world felt too heavy, the one that reassured you when your parents never understood you, the one that threw you boxes filled with donuts to treat your sweet tooth cravings.

And now… he was gone. Your vision blurred with tears, but those tears quickly snapped to anger.

Aizawa stood frozen, unable to move, unable to process what had happened. But your grief twisted into rage, and suddenly, your Kitsune took over, feeding on your pain and anger.

With a swift turn, kunai in hand, your eyes began to glow a harsh blue with sharp slits filled with fury.

"Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought he was still alive… I heard him talking to me—“

"I could’ve saved him!"

Aizawa stepped back, his own guilt reflected in his eyes, but before you could land a hit, Hizashi grabbed your arms and pulled you back with a strong grip, dropping your kunai.

"Yan! Stop!" Hizashi shouted, holding you tightly as you struggled against him.

"I could’ve saved him! You promised me! YOU’RE A LIAR—!" Your words broke into sobs, your body trembling with grief.

A soft voice cut through the chaos. Nemuri had arrived in perfect timing, and in a swift, gentle move, she used her quirk. "Sleep," she whispered.

Your eyes fluttered shut as her fog begins to cloud your vision, your body going limp in Hizashi’s arms. The tears still streamed down your face as you were placed gently on Nemuri’s lap, eyes closing shut as the world darkens.

—-

Hopefully this super adorable art of Reader and Aizawa during UA cheers you up from this angsty ending! The art is from the lovely mananeez go support her! ❤️🫶

#aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader #fractured bonds #shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader

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