#and it's very bruised and painful and i'm getting shooting pains up my leg

[pinktinselmonstrosity]

lads i think my ankle might genuinely be broken :/ like it's not a joke anymore :////

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Do you think the kidnapping was the last straw for age gap!reader and that’s why she decided to become a housewife??

Not quite.

When you did faint, for real instead of pretending, Clark is not surprised. Your heart had started racing again and you were trying very hard to stay composed and sweet.

He was just glad he was there to catch you and keep you from cracking your head on the pavement when the rookie cop closest to you was too busy being start struck to realize you were about to collapse. EMT's were called and you were taken by ambulance to the nearest hospital.

He only hoped Bruce had a plan. And a damn good one. Because, as he looked at the sad little cell the would be kidnapper planned to keep you in his stomach turned. If it hadn't been for the tracker to put in your sneaker, they might never have been able to find you.

__________________

"Sweetheart," Bruce said, rushing into the room, "My god, I'm so sorry! I came as soon as I got your call."

The nurse taking your vitals again glanced up and sighed internally. She'd HAVE to tell the desk to pay attention. Your Agent, some co stars, managers- jesus a parade of people had traipsed through this room. Even a particularly intrepid tabloid journalist. But- At least this was one visitor that you didn't seem to mind.

"I'm okay, I think," you tell him. "I- nothing really had time to happen. I just have some bruises and a concussion."

"Do you need anything?" he asked, crossing the floor, smiling briefly at the nurse before kissing your forehead. "Are they keeping you or-"

"The doctor is just waiting on some x-rays," the nurse told you when you looked at her questioningly. "Once we have all our tests back you should be good to go."

"Thank you, Nancy," you tell her, "Could I have some more water when you get a second?"

"Absolutely," she answered. Mollified somewhat when Bruce set himself to fussing over you in that endearing, clueless way that men had. Uselessly fluffing pillows and petting your hair.

"What were they x-raying?" Bruce asked, perching on the end of your bed. Between you and the door.

"My abdomen. I had stomach pain and they wanted to make sure I wasn't bleeding or something- I don't know if it was a knee of a foot but-"

"I should have hit him harder," Bruce growled.

"Bruce-"

"I'm taking you back to Gotham tonight," he murmured. "And Alfred is working on your security as we speak."

You blink for a second and bite your lip, "I have work and contracts-"

"Not to stay," Bruce hummed. "But I pointed out that you would need a couple days of rest to recover. And pointed out that making you work would be "a bad look" once the story broke. They agreed. And decided to shoot things you weren't in for a couple days."

You look at him confused and Bruce smiles a little, "I'm having the security revamped in your Apartment while you're with me. And being a little selfish- I missed you."

"Brucie, you don't have to do all that."

"I do though," he murmured. "It scared me, that phone call. And I don't like being scared."

_______________________

That night, in his bed. Finally feeling safe enough to let go, you let Bruce take you. It was tender and sweet- even while both of you were desperate.

Cleaving to each other for comfort. Craving the sense of belonging that you felt joined together. No secrets, no lies, only met desires and realized longings.

Bruce smudged soft kisses on every bruise and nuzzled every sore spot. Lavishing attention on your sore stomach. Careful to read your body language. If you pulled away, he would stop. But you clung onto him. Worldless pleading. Telling him. Don't leave me.

"I'm here, Princess," he breathed. "are you okay?"

You nod and lean up to kiss him, "How do you do it?"

"Do what, beautiful?" he hummed, sliding his cock along your entrance before sliding inside you.

"Make me feel so safe, all the time."

"Is that how you feel now, sweet girl?" he hummed, "Safe? Loved?"

You nod, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer to you.

He smiled and rubbed his nose against yours as he bracketed himself above you, "Marry me?" he blurted, "Let me make you feel that way forever."

"You- Bruce- I-"

"I mean it," he breathed. "Marry me? Let me keep you safe, Sweetheart. Make me the happiest I've ever been?"

"How could I say no to that?" you ask, stroking his cheek as you kissed him.

[hoshiseon-digiarc]

desire ; preview

♰ pairings :: ot8 vampire!ateez x fem!witch!reader

♰ genre :: dark fantasy, smut, strangers to ?? to lovers, fluff, maybe slight angst?, soulmates/fated lovers

♰ content :: polyamory, references to religious themes, all of them are kinda down bad... some more than others, reader is enamored with them (i'll add more by chapter, they're not written yet)

♰ word count :: 580

♰ note :: all of the descriptions are general as this is the preview, please read the warnings for each chapter!! this is my first time not writing in third person :,) each chapter will probably focus of different sets of members. the chapters aren't planned, i'm writing this as i go so pls be patient. i'm not sure how many chapters there'll be. feedback is greatly appreciated and i should have the first chapter up very soon!! ♡

♰ gen. warnings :: blood, violence, predator/prey dynamics (non sexual & possibly sexual in later chapters), fear, anxiety, sight obsession, stalking, general dark themes, manipulation (non sexual)

☽ smut warnings by chapter, MDNI!!

as i look around confusedly, i forget that there was a small chance i was being followed by something. instead astonishment replaces the fear as i look around. but not for long. i start to hear the distinct sound of crunching leaves coming from my right. this time my entire body freezes for a fraction of a second and i do not turn to see whatever it is coming for me. instead i turn left and start to run. as i sprint through the tree line, i make it long enough that the clearing behind me starts to morph back into endless trees.

but turning back to look proves to be a mistake as i trip once again and fall, unable to catch myself as i collide with the ground. sharp pain shoots through my knee again and i know this time i would not just have a bruise. i wince and cry as i push into the dirt to roll onto my back. through my fear, i could only hear my boots making contact with the earth beneath me but now that i am still i can definitely hear the pursuit of something coming towards me. it doesn't sound like running but then again i may not be able to hear over the sound of my own pounding heart and heaving breaths. i attempt to scramble to my feet and push through the pain in my leg but i can only manage a weak limping jog. i feel tears pool in my eyes as i stop to lean my side against a tree. there's just no way i'll make it to my cabin like this. and there's no way i'd beat whatever it is that's following me. as the pain in my knee starts to throb, i sink lower until i'm sitting with my back against the tree.

through my wallowing i failed to realize that the sound from before had stopped. as i turn my head to look around, i spot a silhouette to my left. back from where i originally started running. it looks like.... a person? who in their right mind would be out this far? it seems like the seconds drag on as i stare wordlessly at the unmoving figure. i have no options to weigh so i wait. for impending doom most certainly. but there's nothing i can really do. trying to get up again really isn't practical and would just alert them to my location, if they don't see me already. i blink and suddenly the figure looks a lot closer than they were a second ago. no... my mind is playing tricks on me no one moves that fast. my heart rate kicks into high gear as the figure starts to become larger. they're definitely getting closer. my reflexes kick in and i scramble with no success to get onto my feet. i hear my breath stutter and a cry threatens to leave my lips as the figure finally really comes into view and then stops. though it's still very dark, they're close enough now that i can see the person is a man. he's human looking... enough. but that doesn't really quell my fear. he's still not close enough that he could hear me if i spoke in a normal tone but i shouldn't get my hopes up. i watch as his head tilts to the side for a second before he starts to walk, much slower now, towards me.

[xoxo-author]

Partners in Crime

Authors note: I know SVU doesn't get a lot of love here on Tumblr but I've been binge-watching and love Valasco so here we are!

Pairing: Joe Valasco x Reader (Fem)

Warnings: My god-awful writing, mentions of violence

"You're awake! How are you feeling?"

I tried to offer Rollins a small smile but could only wince as pain shot through my face, "Sore, very sore."

Amanda picked up a chair before setting it down next to my hospital bed and sitting down, "Well after the beating you took, sore is to be expected." 

I close my eyes and let my head fall back, letting what happened flow back into my mind. Working the case, getting the tip that Barban was going to be at this warehouse meeting where he wanted to see new talent, him being interested in me and then losing it, the pain for his hits and kicks, his hands wrapping around my neck, and I'm pretty sure I remember Joe coming in but that's when things start to get a little fuzzy.

"Did we catch him?"

Shaking her head, Amanda let out a sigh, "After you were made, we rushed in. Velasco was the first one in there and by the time the rest of us got in there, Barban was unconscious on the floor next to you, and his face took a pretty hard hit. We get you into an ambulance and off to the hospital then we get Barban loaded up and off to the hospital. On the way to the hospital, his bus got ambushed and someone helped him escape. We don't know where he is yet."

"So I look like this for nothing?" 

Amanda chuckles before reaching out and gently squeezing my bandaged hand, "We'll catch him."

I give her a nod before letting out a sigh, a feeling of uneasiness spreads throughout my body. Barban was the worst of the worst and having my cover blown was less than ideal. If he figured out I was a cop then he could figure anything out, he could figure me out. He could figure out where I lived, my family, what precinct I worked in, and who in my life meant something to me. 

Letting my head lull to the right, my gaze lands on Joe who was passed out on the tiny green recliner chair. 

 "He hasn't left since you got here. We've tried to get him to go home, to shower, to eat, to sleep, to take a break but he refuses to leave your side. I have never seen him like this or how he was when you were in the warehouse." 

Before I could say anything, her phone started to ring, "It's Olivia, I'm going to take this outside and tell your doctor that you're awake. You should wake him up." 

My eyes follow her as she leaves the room, quietly shutting the door behind her, before letting my gaze fall back to Joe. 

Slowly, I push myself up into a sitting position and gently move my legs over the side of the bed. Gripping the handrail of the bed and as soon as my feet touched the ground and I was standing, a whimper fell from me causing Joe's eyes to shoot open. 

He was over to me in record time, gently grabbing my forearm, "What're  you doing?"

Swallowing so maybe it wouldn't hurt as bad to talk, "I'm up, so you're up."

Joe tried to guide me back to sit down but I shake my head, "I want to stand for a little." He nods and his eyes take in my face before moving lower, no doubt checking the damage. 

"I'm so sorry, this is all my fault."

I shake my head before tilting it to the side, "This is not your fault Joe."

"If I had been faster to get to you or if we had sent another UC in there with you, none of this would've happened." 

Reaching as high as I could without wincing, I place my hand on his chest, "Joe,  he figured me out, this is not your fault."

Leaning down, he gently places his forehead against mine, " When I got in there, he had his hands around your throat and you weren't moving and I couldn't tell if you were breathing. I thought I had lost you." 

"But you didn't." 

                                                                     **********

"Everything is looking good, the swelling has started to go down and will only continue to do so. The bruises will take a while to heal due to how significant they are. You can take your brace off your hand to shower but I want it on as much as possible. Take your pain meds as prescribed. If there are no questions, I will leave your discharge paperwork, leave you to get dressed, and send transportation to help you. Take care of yourself." 

Joe places a bag next to me on the bed before unzipping it, "I brought you some of my clothes because I thought you wouldn't want things rubbing against your bruises." 

I smile up at him, "Thank you."

Reaching into the bag, Joe takes out a pair of sweatpants before kneeling to the ground. Joe gently guides my legs through the leg holes before pulling the pants up to my knees. I grabbed the waistband of the pants while he gently wrapped an arm around my waist to help me stand from the bed. I tied the strings while Joe grabbed a white t-shirt from the bag. 

I take my arms out of the hospital's gown armholes and hold the gown to my gest. Joe tilts his head to the ceiling while I, as quick as I could, maneuver the shirt on. "You can look now." 

Joe shoots me a smile before going to open the door so the transportation guy can wheel the wheelchair in. Walking back over to me, Joe grabs my hands to help me sit in the chair, "By the way, you're staying with me until we catch Barban."

I went to argue but the look on his face told me that there was no way he was going to budge so I simply nodded.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

[ikkosu]

So you know when you wear shorts in summer in a car with a leather seat that your legs stick to it sometimes? I've actually almost fallen out of car bc of that. And because of this experience, may I request this happening to the reader with any autobot of your choice?

THROUGH the glaze of the windshield, traffic churns at a slow, steady pace. Pistons chuff, creak and groan; beaten down by the glare of the sun, little by little the mottled blurs of car start to file out.

Everytime, you think you're going to wrangle out of this hellhole — a wide gap-like opening, blaring out like the heavens for freedom — you find yourself stuck in another junction, relapsing in the same fucking problem.

Stuck in the same place. Between mesh metal of blistering, practically burning from the sun, hot cars.It also doesn't help how raw to the bone hot the weather is.

Heat is seething through the Aircon. You're practically drenched, and the discomfort of having an already wet shirt matted to your wet spine is exacerbated by the goddamn ire before your eyes.

There's a truck, in front of you.

A very old truck.

And, fast?

Not it's greatest virtue.

A lump of irritation bites its way through your teeth. The backside of the truck sputters with black fumes. You're about to relinquish the title of an honorable citizen, when the radio warbles with a staticky breedle.

"You're getting sweat all over the seats, pipsqueak." Comes his sardonic chuff. The insignia lits up with every sass induced spool of his words.

At that you lift up your thighs, a kind of schlap followed after as a result of very sweaty skin latching on leather.

"Suck it cop-bot," You pat the steering wheel. "That's what you get for having shitty air conditioning."

A growl revved up from the engine. The wheel whirls away from your touch three-sixty at max speed.

"You can't expect me to accept the blame, can I? When all there is out there under that— that blisteringly — whatever you call that slag of a weather, is hot fraggin' air."

You blink at the sudden venom in his tone. Prowl's usually, eh usually, the type to keep it down when he's about to lose it : a scowl and a sharp tongue is good enough for lacerating the source of his ire.

For him to snap? Yikes. That takes a lot. A hefty lot. Even with Smokescreen, concierge of shenanigans — worst he's got is a swift chuck to the brig and cleaning duty for a year. And, that's just with a scowl and a low, steady tone.

Guess Cybertronians aren't immune to hot days, either huh. Sun's that bad.

"Is it getting to you too, Prowler?"

"What do you think?" He bites back. "Look at the thermometer. It's exceeding above the usual range of what a normal temperature should be. It's draining up the power in my cooling fans which drains up my fuel, which drains up energon. Which, at this moment, is scarce."

"Hard times, Prowler." You shake your head solemnly. "Hard times."

"You don't get a say in this." He grits out.

The car leers forward with a sudden jerk and your forehead kisses the steering wheel. Not the flat surface where the insignia lies but the edge. You know, the round handle? Bubbles of pain shoot out from the spot and you groan.

"What?" You whined. "It's already hot enough with my ass sticking to your seat — you can't leave me with any more bruises worse than this, alright?"

"Then keep that mouth shut. Or I'm shutting it off for you."

" We're stuck in traffic, though." You grope the steering wheel, grinning at the irritated growl of an engine when he tries to steer it away.

"Will you cut it."

"Hunkering down on a quick brawl in the street doesn't really contribute to the whole," You waggle your hands. " bots in disguise, kind of thing. Not really your style. Doesn't fit you, prowler. Doesn't seem to fit the muse of a..." You trail off, playful and purposeful with your tone. "...law enforcer."

He's quiet for a moment.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh."

He laughs : a quick sarcastic 'hah' and a chuff.

"Get out."

Yep. There, it is.

"Duly noted."

Your fingers wrangle the door knob. And, as soon as you struggle to pry it open you realize Prowl is keeping it locked.

"Where'd the angry coppa go?" You huffed.

"Oh, you'll see."

"Open the—huh?"

Your fingers grasps the open air, twitching around nothingness. The momentum propels you to slide off your sweat-lathered seat, lurching forward and face first into the hot, concrete road.

[sageofthestarz]

Some Phantom based hurt/comfort for my soul I finally finished

CW for some sorta graphic descriptions of being hunted and caught

It's cold. It's Dark. There's a horrible feeling of dread, and then it's on him. He realizes where he is. He's in the pit. He's on land he doesn't know. He knows that prickling feeling on the back of his neck. He's being watched. Judged. Hunted.

He takes off, running off as fast as his legs could take him. He doesn't know where he is, he doesn't know where he's going, he just needs to get out. Get away. Hide.

He can hear them, feral ghouls looking for a meal. Looking for a toy. Who knows. Phantoms been both, barley escaping with his life the last time, being summoned up to the surface as he was being practically ripped apart alive.

He realized in that moment that's what this is.

The moments before he was caught.

His legs feel like jelly, unable to move as he tries so hard to will them too. He's frozen, stuck in the wet sinking ground below him like hot tar ready to trap.

He sees the figures closing in on him. He thinks this is it. His lucks run out.

There's tears in his eyes. Sobs trying to tear their way through his chest.

He tries to scream. For his mates, his pack, for anyone to save him.

They promised to keep him safe.

We're they lying?

We're they just a figment of his imagination?

How did he get back to the pit?

He lets out a loud wet sob as he's grabbed by a much larger ghoul in its pure infernal form.

"Seems my dinner is served" the large ghoul all but grins

"Sent back here from the overworld so soon?" The large ghoul licks his lips. Leaning in letting a claw run over Phantoms unscarred cheek cutting into it with a practiced ease watching with lust filled eyes as the blood dripped and pooled below.

Phantom cries out, trying to clutch his cheek, only to feel the ghouls claws start to slowly rip down more of the little soft skin he has left.

He's been sent back. Back down into the pits unprepared, and this was his death.

He feels the claws scrap over his flesh, starting to tear him apart.

He feels as the warm blood slips from his flayed body, and as his eyes slip shut blinded by pain suddenly he feels pressure around his middle. An odd rumbling under his ear.

His eyes shoot open as he bolts upright smacking his head on the ceiling above him. He's on the buss. There's a very sleepy ghouls arm wrapped around him who's making a concerned noise.

"Bug..?" The voice calls, as a sleepy multi ghoul sits up, rubbing up and down the panicked ghouls back.

"Nightmare?" He asks, but doesn't get a response. A muffled sob as Phantom shoots a hand over his mouth to cover it, and then he's latching onto the larger. Clutching onto him with what would've been a bruising grip if he were any larger.

"You're okay, I got you. You're safe, Promise you're safe baby" he has him pulled tightly to his chest, holding him securely a hand going into the smallest hair.

"They- they tried to kill me.. had me flayed open.." he tries to hold back his sobs. The panic and relief overwhelming him

"I got you baby, no one's getting near you here. Not gonna let them. Look at me bug" he waits, letting him take a moment to look up at him. He brings his hands up to wipe away his tears, feeling the shaking body of the other start to settle. "You're safe. I got you. You're not going back there ever again. Not over mine, and the whole packs dead body. Okay?"

Phantom nodded, small hiccups coming from him as he started to settle laying his head in the crook of Swiss' neck with a wet sniff

"Even.. even Dews?" He asks with a small smile, drawing a chuckle from Swiss

"Yes babybat, even Dews" he says giving him a squeeze

"Will you two shut up, I'm trying to sleep" a grumbly very obviously half asleep fire ghoul half heartedly yells from the other side of the isle

Phantom gets a small smirk on his lips as he wipes the last of his tears, looking up to Swiss. Swiss only mirors the smirk before he's scooping up Phantom and tumbling out of his own bunk and I to Dews who immediately gives a startled sqawk.

That's where they stay, squishing Dew between them where he claims how much he hates this, and how if he could move his arms they'd be charred in seconds, but they both know it's a lie.

That's where they stay until they're kicked out by a very annoyed water ghoul who secretly wanted in on the cuddle pile. "Common, sound check in 15 get up, get up!" He shooed them all up much to everyone's dismay.

Phantom took a step back as he watched as Rain had to drag Dew out of the bunk. There was a lot of swearing, and grumbling, and mock fighting, but it was okay.

Because this was his pack, and ya'know. He could get used to this kind of fighting.

[slytherhys]

June in January (Because I'm in Love)

Prompt: Powers & Possibilities (but make it Witchy!) @elriel-month

A/N: So I've had this AU in my mind for a really long time and I thought it'd be perfect for this prompt. It is kinda different from how I usually write so please bear with me. I hope I managed to make it at the very least a cute read! Enjoy 🌼

TW: Swearing, Blood and Violence (mentioned because Az is an idiot!)

You can also read this story on AO3!

The first time Azriel visits the witch’s cottage on the outskirts of Velaris, it’s against his will.

For starters, he has never been a fan of witches – not of their unrestrained power and certainly not of their blood-drinking habits. He is also a firm believer that, despite Mor’s insistence, Madja would’ve been perfectly able to fix him up with whatever medicine she usually gave Cassian whenever he got punched in the face.

But after a sparring session gone wrong, a vicious hit to the face that takes both him and Cassian by surprise, and a pounding headache only made worse by Cassian’s incessant bragging about knocking out the Shadowsinger for the first time in centuries, Azriel barely bats an eye when Mor presses a piece of parchment to his hand and nearly forces him to visit her dear friend.

“You can thank me later.” She says with an impish smile. “Preferably with chocolates.”

Azriel doesn’t bother asking any questions – namely, who her friend is. Or rather what . With a nasty black eye, a bruised ego and absolutely no desire to take part in any small talk with a stranger, he simply goes, dazed, and confused as to how the fuck he let himself be punched in the face by Cassian, of all people.

But when he first gets there, he has to wonder if Mor is pranking him. 

The cottage is covered in ivy, idyllic enough that one could think it actually belongs to the landscape where it stands. The garden surrounding him is an array of colours and scents, neatly organised by a logic Azriel does not pretend to understand. It looks innocent enough, all things considered.

But something in him goes still as he takes in the landscape in front of him. His eyes narrow as he watches the flowers sway softly in the cool January breeze. They’re beautiful and fragrant and would raise absolutely no suspicion on any other given day – if not for the fact they were in full bloom despite it being the middle of winter.

And then he sees it – a plain, wooden sign, the lettering a loopy cursive that speaks of lovely, gentle things. If it wasn’t for what they spell out, of course.

Elain’s Herbs & Potions

His entire body goes cold, and it speaks of his self-control that Azriel doesn’t shoot to the skies without a glance back. Because he knows –vividly remembers – all the tales of witches he grew up hearing about. Of their all-seeing eyes and their crooked smiles that promised nothing but pain and horror. The tales of their rituals and tricks not even the most cunning soldier could escape. Even Rhys, for all his powers and smarts, has never showed much interest in coming across a witch.

He's wondering why, exactly, Mor ever thought it’d be a good idea to send him here when he sees her.

The first thing he notices, oddly enough, is how small she is. After living next to Amren for most of his life, Azriel is not foolish enough to ever think that a sign of weakness, but it intrigues him all the same. Then, he’s utterly aware of how she doesn’t look anything like what he thought she’d look like. There’s no yellowed teeth, no wispy, greying hair, no soulless eyes.

Instead, all he sees is long, golden-brown hair and chocolate eyes. A yellow dress that compliments her tanned skin and red cheeks and speaks of warmer, sunnier days. She’s carrying a wicker basket overflowing with flowers, but the scent that trails after her is all her – sweet and sour, and Az feels his legs nearly giving out from under him, it’s probably completely unrelatable.

Elain , he assumes, and never a name has ever sounded so sweet.

When she looks up and spots him, she smiles, as if she was waiting for him and is pleased to see he's finally here. His heart tumbles inside his chest and he tells himself it’s because he’s in the presence of a witch – not because he’s suddenly wanting things he’s never wanted before.

She eyes him curiously and he has

to stop himself from asking her what’s on her mind, even if it suddenly feels

like the most important thing he’s ever needed to know.

“Can I help you?” She asks sweetly. Her voice echoes through him, and something inside him settles. He, however, can’t bring himself to speak, swallowing dryly as he stares and stares and stares . The woman - Elain ,

he thinks with delight - tilts her head, furrowing her brow as her chocolate

eyes trace his face. “That doesn’t look good.” She mutters and Azriel has to

remind himself of the reason he’s here in the first place.

“A fight.” He says oh-so-eloquently , and he’s surprised she doesn’t seem alarmed in

the slightest by his response. As if, perhaps, this is a normal occurrence for

her. He doesn’t know why that bothers him, but it does. 

Elain, oblivious to his nonsensical thoughts, simply nods and turns on her feet, disappearing inside her cottage without another word. Azriel remains where he is, unsure of what to do. All of a sudden, he can’t recall why he ever feared witches in the first place, why he ever believed the tales his brothers told him in the middle of the night when they were too young to know any better. 

And fuck if they knew any better. 

It takes the pretty witch less than five minutes to return, this time carrying a small basket in her hands, each one of her steps a small symphony of bottles clicking against each other until she’s standing in front of him. He looks down at the basket with intrigue and pretends that her closeness isn’t making his skin tingle. He listens carefully as she explains – a bit shyly, Azriel notices with satisfaction – how he must apply the green ointment to his bruises, at what time he must drink the periwinkle potion and how many times a day the white paste must be applied to reduce the swelling of his cheek.

When he nods in thanks and turns to leave, it’s entirely too soon and a pang echoes through his body as he desperately tries to come up with ways of prolonging his stay but comes up empty instead. His skin feels too tight, his cheeks too hot, his hands too clammy. He vaguely wonders if he’s running a fever - if maybe he can ask her for a cure for that as well. 

She walks by his side until they’re standing on the limits of her property, like maybe she doesn't want him to leave just yet either. He feels oddly mislaid; uncertain of what to do and who to be. All his convictions turn into ash and suddenly there’s only one thing he knows for sure: he’s going to have to get punched again, because there’s not a chance in this world he isn’t seeing Elain again.

“Who won?” Azriel turns to her as she asks, confusion clear on his face. Elain, not one to be put off by his silence, clarifies, “The fight.”

Azriel chuckles softly. “Not me.”

She frowns like she's not entirely happy with his response. “Well, make sure you win next time. Okay?” 

But the second time Azriel visits the witch’s cottage, just on the outskirts of Velaris, Elain greets him with a brilliant smile, not disappointed in the slightest to see him sporting a new bruise and a busted lip.

It shouldn’t surprise him how beautiful she looks, but he still is taken aback when he first sees her. Her hair is tumbling down her back in a messy braid, a too-big straw hat on her head and a small streak of dirt on her cheek that she probably isn’t aware of. Her cheeks are flushed from the sun, her blue dress reminds him of ripe blueberries, and the way it sways with her every step reminds him of flying in the summer breeze.

This time around, there’s no doubt in his mind he’s right where he should be. A familiar feeling of contentment rushes through his body, as if after weeks of waiting to see her, he can finally let himself relax and enjoy this small moment of reprieve (and really, who can blame him for wanting to get punched again?).

When Elain asks him what happened this time around, Azriel doesn’t dare tell her he made sure to pick Rhys during this week’s sparring session; that he made sure the most powerful High Lord in history punched him just in the right place so that he could bust his lip open. He doesn’t tell her about the confused look on his friend’s face as Azriel smiled maniacally when he felt the blood on his lips, nor does he tell her he tried to go for a broken nose instead so that maybe she would touch him too.

He simply smiles sheepishly at the pretty witch and utters something about distractions, making her blush under his stare as she turns around and scolds him for being so careless, all the while making a package of too many potions he doesn’t entirely need. (He still hasn’t used up all the old ones, but he doesn't tell her that either).

When Elain finally turns to him, her eyes drop to his lips and Azriel feels fire licking up at his spine. She watches him with curiosity and something else lingering in those cinnamon eyes. Amusement, perhaps?

For a brief, panicky moment, he wonders if she can see right through him. As it is, Azriel doesn’t exactly know where her power lies, and for all he knows every lie, every excuse is pointless in the presence of this witch.

Elain, however, doesn’t seem too concerned by his lies. “What is your favourite fruit?” She asks instead, eyes flickering to his as if nervous to see his reaction. 

Azriel tucks away his puzzlement and says, “Blueberries,” pretending the whole time it’s not only because of the colour of her dress. She nods once, as if the answer satisfies her, and hands him the basket.

“Be careful, okay?” She tells him in that honeyed voice and Azriel can think of nothing else to say, so he nods and leaves without a glance back.

He pretends he doesn’t miss her the entire flight back home.

The third time Azriel visits Elain’s cottage, he is greeted by a brilliant smile that sends his heart racing inside his chest. Elain, still bent over a shrub, tells him about the new batch of healing potions she’s been perfecting so he can try them, and he tries not to show just how pleased he is that she has been thinking about him, waiting for him to return. She doesn’t ask him about his bandaged shoulder and Azriel doesn’t tell her about the lecture he got from Rhys once the High Lord of the Night Court realised what was going on.

“These ones taste like blueberries.” She says, handing him three new potions he’s never seen before. He frowns slightly. “They’re your favourite.” She explains, and the expectant smile on her face makes it impossible for him to come clean. He isn’t even sure he likes blueberries, but he thanks her anyway and smiles the whole way home.

The fourth time Azriel visits Elain’s cottage, he has just returned from a mission abroad. When she hears the rustle of his wings, she turns to him with that brilliant smile of hers. To her credit, she doesn’t stop smiling when he sees the heavy expression on his face. She simply stands up, holds his hand, and leads him to a wooden bench under a willow tree behind her house.

They sit there for hours, without a word ever being spoken. He doesn’t know how Elain knows he doesn’t wish to speak, but he’s thankful all the same.

When he returns home, he doesn’t take any potions with him, but nevertheless something inside him feels mended; lighter than it has ever felt before. For a quiet, lovely moment he wonders if maybe he’s worthy of having his hands held despite the scars marring his skin and the idea of such a life follows him all the way home.

The fifth time Azriel returns to Elain’s cottage, nothing seems to be amiss - both Cassian and Rhysand refuse to fight him (since Rhysand promptly forbade them), and Azriel can’t seem to find any more excuses to see her again. Until he realises he doesn’t need them anymore.

As he flies to her house, a million scenarios rush through his mind as he wonders how she’ll react. If she’ll welcome him with her beaming smile, watching him as if she’d been waiting for him all along or if instead, she’ll find it so weird to find him uninjured she’ll send him on his way the second she understands why, exactly, he’s there. Azriel isn’t foolish enough to believe he’d be so lucky, but he wants to brave enough to find out.

He finds sitting in the middle of the daisies, looking for all the world like she has been painted into the landscape to make it all the more appealing. When she sees him, a smile lights up her face, eyes taking him in as he walks her way and Azriel isn’t entirely sure why, but every single doubt tainting his mind melts away into a puddle at the expression on her face.

Elain doesn’t say a word. She simply waits, rising to her feet and watching him with an expectant look in her eyes.   

“I don’t need anything today.” He says by way of greeting, and she gives him a tentative smile. 

“But you’re here.” She says gingerly, not a trace of confusion on her face.

Which makes him confused in return. “I am.” He says, and Elain chuckles, the sound low and so sweet, so perfect his heart nearly leaps from his chest to try and catch the sound. He can’t stop watching her as certainty settles deep into his bones.

Elain blows a breath like she’s finally had enough of his silence. Her cheeks pinken under his stare but she isn’t deterred. “Are you finally going to ask me out, Azriel?” She asks a bit exasperatedly. “Or is the Shadowsinger going to keep getting his ass handed to him until he finds the courage?”

He’s speechless for one second. Two. Three. He vaguely thinks of Mor and how she described Elain as her dear friend . And then he’s wondering if he’s truly that transparent and if she’s known what he had been doing all along – gathering the courage to kiss her, have her in any way he can get.

And then he’s not wondering anymore - he’s pulling her into his arms instead, kissing her until they both can’t breathe, until the sun falls behind the trees, until the cool breeze of January makes Elain shiver in his arms, reminding them of where they are. That, despite the blooming garden and the warmth of their kiss, it’s still January and there’s an entire world out there waiting for them to start the rest of their lives.

But none of it seems to matter as Elain pulls away from him, never letting go of his hand as she asks, “Do you want to come inside?”

And later that night, when the colours of dawn chase away the darkness of the night, with Elain sleeping soundly against his chest, Azriel smiles, shaking his head in disbelief.

Because he now owes Mor a very big fucking box of chocolates.

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Shun the Light - Ch 20 - It'll Grow Back

Masterlist

Author's Notes: I can't believe I'm 20 chapters into this thing?! How did this happen!? ilu all for indulging whatever this is <3

More Matteo POV for now but Dante will get a chance soon

Content Warnings: vampire whump, beaten, bruises, broken ribs, mouth/tooth whump (very brief), blood, werewolf whump, illness, stomach pain, exhaustion, hunger, thirst, angst, emotional whump, mutual caretaking

----

"Are you real?"

Dante tugs at Matteo's sleeve like he's checking to be sure. Matteo sits cross legged beside him.

"Oh, man, how hard did they hit you? Yeah, I'm real."

He touches Dante's hand, intending to hold it, but Dante pulls it away with a hitched breath and holds his face.

"Ow..."

Matteo watches in horror as Dante takes one of his fangs between his fingers, wiggles it a few times, and then pulls it free. He turns his head and spits blood into the grass.

"What the fuck?" Matteo whispers.

"It'll grow back," Dante mumbles. He tucks the tooth into his pocket and leans his head back against the wall of the building.

"What were you doing here, anyway?"

Dante shrugs. "Just...decided to take a walk. What about you? I thought you left town."

"Oh, um. No, not yet. I've just been hanging around I guess."

"Oh."

Dante won't look at him. Most of his injuries are hidden by his clothes, but if the bruising on his face and arms is any indication the rest of it must be pretty bad too. When he tries to sit up more he winces and curls an arm around his ribs. Matteo reaches out to help, but thinks better of it and pulls his hands inside his hoodie sleeves.

"Will you be able to get home?"

"Why do you care?"

The bitterness in Dante's voice catches Matteo off guard. Already fragile after everything he has endured, it hurts like someone pressing on a bruise. Hot tears begin to spill down his cheeks. Matteo hangs his head and tries to keep himself together.

"I care," he insists quietly. He knows Dante has no reason to believe it; he's the one who left, unprompted. "I just do."

Dante is silent. Then his hand comes to rest on Matteo's arm, firm but gentle. Matteo peers up through his wet lashes. Dante is finally looking at him.

"I'm sorry," Dante says, his voice and expression considerably softer.

Matteo creeps one hand out from inside its sleeve and hesitantly touches Dante's. When he doesn't pull away, Matteo loosely laces their fingers together.

"I'm glad I got to see you again," Dante says after a moment.

Matteo wipes his face on his sleeve and takes a deep breath. "Me too. I was actually, um. On my way to your place."

Dante's eyes widen as much as they can with one partially swollen shut.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I wanted to ask you - "

Just then the front door to the bar opens and a noisy group walks out, laughing and rowdy as they make their way to the car. Both Dante and Matteo turn from their headlights and wait for them to pull away.

"It's not safe here," Matteo decides. He stands without letting to of Dante's hand, giving it a gentle tug. "Let me help you get home."

"...okay," Dante cautiously agrees.

Matteo helps him to his feet. Dante groans and holds his ribs again, almost collapsing, but Matteo keeps him upright.

"There we go...I got you..."

He puts his arm around Dante's waist and pulls Dante's arm over his shoulders. Minutes ago Matteo could barely support his own weight and was about to give in and find somewhere to rest for the night. Now he finds the strength somewhere within himself to stand up straight, carry his backpack and support Dante - which is easier than he expected, likely because Dante looks like he hasn't been eating much either.

The walk itself is far from easy. Matteo is weak and malnourished. If he moves too quickly he gets dizzy, and still gets shooting pain in his stomach out of nowhere.

But he refuses to complain. He blames his labored breathing on being tired, his tense muscles on the recent transformation. When he stumbles he blames a root or a rock.

Dante is struggling too. He might try to suppress the sounds of pain, but Matteo can feel him tremble and wince. He wants to say something encouraging, or make a joke to lighten the mood, but needs all his energy to stay focused on taking one step at a time.

Soon the woods around them become familiar. Matteo even catches a glimpse of a faded and frayed strand of yarn around a tree trunk.

"We're getting close," he pants. "Just...hang on..."

His vision spins. Before he can fall, Matteo grasps a branch and closes his eyes, swaying on his feet. He grasps Dante's shirt tightly and just manages to remain standing.

Dante presses close to his side, now supporting him.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'm fine." Matteo takes a series of deep, tremulous breaths. "Just tired. Had a rough moon."

Dante hesitates. "You...could have come back for it. If you needed somewhere to be. Someone to - " he trails off, and Matteo's mind fills in the blanks with longing. Someone to take care of you.

"I couldn't do that to you," Matteo says quietly. He leans his forehead against the branch he's holding onto. "I don't want to be a burden."

Dante doesn't respond right away. Matteo kicks himself for saying anything. This isn't the time for his self pity, they both feel like shit and Dante needs to be home before sunrise...

"Matteo...you were never a burden."

The words don't sink in right away. He has to let them echo in his head until they settle and take root. Only then can he lift his head and look at Dante, whose tired face is so sincere, his gaze unwavering.

How could he even begin to explain what it means to hear that? Words fail him. His throat is dry and tears brim in his eyes but his face breaks into a smile.

Dante responds by tightening his arm around Matteo's shoulders.

"Come on," he encourages. "We're almost there."

Matteo straightens and takes a determined breath. He once again bears as much of Dante's weight as he can and continues walking, eyes fixed ahead. The sky has gone from all deep blue to a hazy gray glow on the horizon and he is determined to not let a drop of sunlight touch Dante.

What awaits Matteo at the house, whether he'll be able to stay or not, whether they can salvage what they had started to build or will have to start from scratch, he doesn't know. He's nervous but cautiously hopeful.

And maybe it's okay to hope. Just a little.

[thebdsmsofurlife]

Mm first I'd admire you. Get real close and smell your body. Hovering my lips all over you Then I'd grab your wrist and your throat. Jolting you awake. Choking you so hard now that you've awakened in terror but can't scream. I hand cuff your wrist to the bed the other one quickly. I smack the fuck out of you and pull out my knife telling you that you better do as I say and not make a sound or I'll fucking murder you when I'm done. I get your legs locked up as well spread eagle. You start to whimper so I slice your cheek a bit. I notice your panties are soaked so I whisper in your ear. I can tell you like this you dirty cunt. Don't lie to me. I cunt your panties off roughly. The blade niking your skin. I rip the panties free and shove them in your mouth. They're soaked and duct tape it shut. "Now you really won't make a fucking sound" I tell you that I've been watching you. Waiting for the perfect moment I sent up a camera and let you know that if you tell anyone I'll leak the video to everyone at your school But I can tell from the puddle forming under your pussy that won't happen. I rough you up some more just because I want you to be bruised and sore. I want the pain to last long after I'm gone. I lick your wound and tell you that your blood is so sweet. I pull out my cock. It's extremely hard. Veiny even at this point. I place the tip against the entrance of your wet cunt and bite your neck. Not going in yet. I whisper in your ear "we have all night" Hmm lets see where was I Since I care about my kitty so much already So my cock is engorged and still rubbing up and down your wet hole. What shall I do with this little cunt. This fuck toy helpless and completely mine. I hatch a devious plan. "Oh fucking your wet pussy would be much too easy to start you with. I want to make you hurt little girl" I grab a fist full of your hair and undo the restraints. You go to strike me but it doesn't even phase me. I hit you hard in the skull then lift you up by your hair and hold my knife to your throat. "Next wrong move you make and I'll be fucking a corpse" I lick away your sweet but salty tears and restrain you once more. This time on your stomach your ass exposed I did my cock once in your cunt. Just the tip and my big head I can feel you're so tight. But I pull back Because I'm about to do something evil Your ass is posed in the air and I've put a belt around your neck to pull at. I put some of your tears on my cock by rubbing it on your faces then a very small amount of spit. I place it at the entrance to your ass and push my full length in hard and fast. You're sobbing hard now but it only makes my cock throb I start pounding your ass. All of my weight into it. It's bleeding but I still don't stop. I'm about to cum but I tell you this will really be a night to fucking remember. I pull out and start fucking your cunt. Hard and fast. My balls boiling. I'm grooming and I can feel you cum on my cock like a dirty used whore I shoot my load deep in your pussy. I grab you by the hair and tell you to have this baby to always remember me. "I'll be watching you. If you try to get rid of it I'll kill you and your family bitch". I leave you tied to the bed. My cum seeping out of your cunt

[raccoon-in-a-dumpster]

guys so like. i found out yesterday that nurses are not SUPPOSED to pushbthe needle in deeper to get blood

i was gettin my blood drawn just to see if i had any complications that could impact my legs n' shit, (since having low iron can fuck you up BAD.)

and ig the vein wasn't rlly feelin it that day (makes sense, i was totally unprepared) so it didn't rlly do anything, and the person doing the draw pushed it in. and at first i was like: oh. this has never happened to me before!! and then it was like: oh my god kill me this is agonizing why does it hurt so bad it never hurts

and i had told the nurse that i was AWESOME at blood draws (i usually get them done at another clinic, and every single time, it's been great. found a good vein on my left arm, inserted & extracted with very minimal pain, felt great) but GOD. IT FUCKING HURT

so after a bit she SLOWLY took out the needle (and it hurt like fucking hell let me tell you) cuz there was no blood. And the MOMENT she starts taking it out, i feel sick.

She asks if i'm alright, and i say no, i'm really dizzy and i feel like i'm gonna throw up. so i lay down after my arm is bandaged. My head feels so fucking hot, my arm hurts like all hell- can barely move it- and i'm sweating. barely have the energy to speak at that point. I thought i was gonna pass out.

so after a bit of laying, she asks if i wanna try again, and i- still being nauseous- say no, and practically beg to not do it again cause this is the worst i've ever felt in my life. and so her and my mom talk about when to come back, and i pipe up sometimes

I suggest Saturday.

They don't draw blood on Saturday.

I suggest Sunday.

They don't draw blood on Sunday.

So after a bit of pushing with my mom, (she wanted today, i wanted Monday. I bring up that my arm might hurt afterwards and effect my marching, but really, i was still reeling and i was genuinely afraid, i needed some time, y'know?) we settle on Monday.

so i get home from marching after 9, and i chat with my dad. ask him if mom told him about what happened

"Oh yeah. So growing pains?" (referring to the possibility i might've developed osgood-schlatter disease)

"No, the other thing. With the blood draw?"

so i tell him what happened, and he tells me some stories about how he has really small veins, so doctors have a difficult time finding it. He tells me a story about how in basic, a nurse was tryna find a vein, and by the end he had so many puncture wounds and bruises from it that he looked like he had been shooting up or smth.

I tell him about how it didn't rlly hurt at first but then the needle got pushed deeper and he was like: man they aren't supposed to do that, if they aren't finding blood then they aren't finding blood.

So yeah.

I'm REALLY not hyped for Monday- I'd really rather get my blood drawn at the other clinic. The clinic i usually go to is linked up with my therapist and my psychologist, too, so it's generally just a lot more accommodating. being misgendered while you're experiencing the worst feeling you've ever felt sure isn't that great.

My arm/elbow hurts whenever i think about earlier, and i'm just. not hyped for next time.

[alcoholttm]

@shipwrght asked:

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Though, he can't deny his curiosity to peel back the curtain to Kaku's true past. Out of all the time they had spent together, before and after everything that happened, his past had always felt more of a taboo topic. Never quite pressing further to avoid discomfort, but always having that wish he would bring it up first. Paulie sighs, scratching at his face. "I won't lie, I want to know... but I'm guessing it's going to be a lot." And even then, he feels like that was an understatement.

"no, no, it's about time that i actually tell you what happened," it was a loaded question that paulie had asked, but kaku knew that he deserved some explanation on how he came to be what he was. so, with a breath he looked down at his hands, they were scarred sure, but there were times that he swore he could still see blood upon them.

"i was sold to the world government from a very young age," he started, eyes glancing upwards just a bit to look at the window of their bedroom, he could remember bits and pieces of the nursery that he grew up in when he wasn't learning all that he could about the world from the eyes of the government. "see, my father was in debt and the only way to get out of it was to sell me. my mother had passed away when i was only a year old so i don't even remember what she looked like--not that i really remember my old man either." he then eyed paulie for a moment. "i was two when i was sold, from what i was told it wasn't much-babies don't really sell much, not like slaves who could actually do labor, but it was enough to get him out of debt and then some so he took the deal and never looked back."

he was starting to fiddle with his hands now as he thought about the training.

"they started out like a school, i guess, you know, learning to read and write, math and science and such, so it wasn't so bad at first," yet another breath left his throat, head shaking slightly. "but then when i turned ten they called it an advanced curriculum. teaching me how to hone my body to become stronger, there were nights that i came back to the dorms aching with pain, cuts and bruises all over my body but i couldn't complain." no, if he did so much as weep at the pain he'd have wake up the next day without any breakfast--without food for even a day kaku learned quickly not to show any agony of the days training.

"my training to become an actually assassin didn't really start until i was around fifteen. i got my first gun and was taught how to shoot it, taught how to zip around without being noticed--it's how i got so good at jumping across this city actually, so it wasn't all that bad." he always had to look at the positive of his trainings or he'd lose it. "i learned how to read pulses to check of people were lying--" he was sure that skill in and of itself would bring back some bad memories from paulie, but he did say he was curious about his childhood upbringing. "and then the guns turned into using my fingers to pierce people's skin, my legs now act like swords--i can cut a building in two if i wanted to.." he grew silent, unsure if he wanted to keep talking about this.

"i know now how wrong the world government is, but they did teach me some techniques that have gotten me to where i am today." did he regret his choices back on that day? of course he did, but at the same time if he didn't grow up the way he did he couldn't fight as well as he could now. "but now i use those techniques to keep this city safe, keep us safe..y'know?"

spilling his guts onto the floor, he hated himself somedays because of his past, and now that paulie knew a bit more about it--could he hate him now, too?

[spacedykez]

37 for the ask game in your pinned? i like your pfp btw very fun

Send me a number 1-100 and I’ll write a short drabble based on the corresponding song in my 2023 playlist!

37 | All Eyes On You - Smash Into Pieces | oc:Loki

Breathe easy, take your aim, boy Ain't nobody gonna save you, so whatcha gonna do?

you're on teyn-c, a damp, swampy planet filled with huge plant structures, when the Captain (not Conner, never Conner, you're not allowed to call him that. only his friends are, and you're not his friend, you tried) announces that he has something to say.

"my valued crew, I have spent several weeks reviewing the data from our mission on machu-6, and I've located our failure point!"

"That's excellent news, conner!" one of the guys pipes up. that one left bruises on you that lasted for weeks last time you went near him.

"you see, it was loki! that thing's presence disrupted our team and led to us failing to capture the specimens we needed!" the Captain turns to face you, his eyes boring into your soul. you feel small.

they're all staring at you.

"captain, i-"

your feet fall from under you as you're pulled off your feet by your tail. they hold you up like a fish on a line, and the captain slaps your face. it would sting, if he hadn't done the same thing every day for four months.

"no. you don't talk to me. only Scientists talk to me, and you'll never be a Scientist."

it's not far to the nearest town here. what if you just ran away?

you suck in a breath.

"i'm more of a scientist than you'll ever be, captain," you spit his words at him. the men holding you throw you against the ground, hard. your face feels wet. you don't know if it's mud or blood. you don't think it matters.

pain shoots through your body as his boot connects with your stomach

"you want to dress like an animal, you get treated like one," he sneers.

your fingers find their way into your jacket pocket. he doesn't notice. he doesn't care. he's not even looking at you. he grunts in disgust.

"i'm never-" finishing his sentence, is what he's never doing. because you shoot him.

your fingers feel warm against the pistol in your hands. you designed it yourself, specialty.

the men stare at you. you fire again.

chad, brett, ryan, rob lie dead in the mud. its turning a deep red with their blood.

you stare at samuel, the man who spoke before. the one who left bruises all down your arms and legs. conner's right hand man.

"listen, loki-"

you have one bullet left.

the remaining men are watching you with new fear, maybe even respect in your eyes. it wont stop you from blasting them into shrapnel for everything they did to you.

click.

your finger hits the trigger.

a blossom of blood erupts from samuel's forehead, and he crumples.

you leave no survivors.

[unwillingwriter]

Debt (McDanno)

Summary: Steve of course is a reckless moron and falls in the field, Daniel Is worried.

A/N: On my A03 with Pt. 2 attached

--

He saw when life left those ocean-blue eyes, he saw the moment his chest stopped moving up and down. He felt when his heart stopped beneath his heavy pale blemished hands trying his best to stop the red river that was pouring from the SEAL front trying to keep his breathing steady looking straight at those lifeless eyes staring at the hole in the roof of the warehouse they were in, the moonlight laying perfectly on the fallen soldier as if the gods and spirits of Hawaii were helping– taking Steve to the other side to help him greet his dead parents and reunite them– no that wasn't what Daniel wanted- they didn't deserve to have their son yet after all the abandonment all the pain they put him through. The pain they put Mary through.

The cruel thought hit Danny like a title wave crashing against the rocks of his brain– the rocks that were like a barrier that was supposed to protect him from what little specks of a few more traumatic experiences, come to threaten him and his already bruised sanity. Mary lost her final family member – no! No!-- Danny wasn't gonna be the one that tells her because Danny wouldn't have to. He's gonna make sure that blonde who became like his very own little sister doesn't carry the pain of loss yet again. Daniel refuses. Beads of sweat run down his forehead as he makes his last decision – his body is gonna hate him for this; but the adrenaline that was shooting up his spine and through his legs as if he never got that injury in his knee came to his aid– he won't feel the punishment of Steves weight till much later. His body felt as if it was 15 again– running and racing Steve through Jersey.

“Sorry babe, I'm gonna have to move you ‘cause the damn medics are taking too long,” Daniel says as if the man was only unconscious-- denial is Danny's norm. He carefully lifts Steves's arm and wraps it around his neck as he hooks his arm under Steve’s cargo pants-wearing legs. “Bear with me ocean tide and please don't cross that water– tell the water goddess I said no… Please.” Danny must sound crazy talking to a dead body that can't even hear him. The Italian takes a deep breath using all the strength in his legs to push himself off the ground and 235 pounds of pure muscle and dead weight along with him. Speed walking to the entrance. No one was with them– and this is why Danny always stresses to Steve they need to wait for the others, for backup. This is exactly why. They're both fucking idiots, two big idiots who can't seem to not get shot. A loud-ass Jersey man and a stubborn Navy SEAL, ahh yes govener they make a great team they won't get into so much trouble oh no no nooooo they'll be just fine.

She's an idiot also. Daniel mocked in his head bitterly– making it pass the door. Danny carrying Steve bridal style was something he could never image, it was actually a funny sight– minus the fact he was dead at the moment. Danny walks over to Steve's perfectly unscratched truck as his own car was on fire-- why is it always his car?!.

He opens the back door carefully setting him on the Seats properly laying him out, Daniel mumbling to himself that he's okay that he's gonna be fine. He knew he was saying that to comfort himself. Danny presses a swift kiss on his commander's forehead pushing himself out the back and heading to the driver's side shutting Steves's door– the rare times Danny is thankful for the caveman leaving his keys in the engine. He drives out towards the hospital, speeding down the road. Danny can afford a speeding ticket. He informs Kono, Chin, Tani, Adam, and Junior of the situation. Tani, Adam, and Junior agreed to go to the crime scene as the cousins agreed to meet Danny at the hospital.

Never in a million years did Danny think his old team would meet the new one.

—

Danny sat in the waiting room, Kono was somewhere getting the blonde some coffee as Chin had basically dragged the Jersey man by his collar to get him checked out– didn't matter how many times Danny explained to the man that all the blood he saw belonged to Steve and Steve alone the Hawaiian insisted that he got checked up or else Chin will carry him like a toddler who doesn't want to go to the doctor. “Chin, I'm fine, I just want to sit down. Please?.” The Hawaiian gave Danny a look- a look Danny both missed and loathed, the look of understanding and mother hen. Chin didn't loosen his grip on the blond's arm. “On the outside you're fine, it's in here that you're not brah,” Chin says using his free hand to tap on Danny's forehead– he hated how it always seemed as if Chin can see through you– see your soul and read it– see the fractures in your mind– the emotional scars on your heart. Danny hated it.

So here he was after being forcefully checked on– in the waiting room, hoping for good news. Chin was checking in with the doctors to see if there was any progress. Kono returned with the coffee plopping down next to the distressed blonde-- she can see it in his eyes but she doesn't point it out– there was no point– Danny knew he looked like shit. Kono passed the detective his coffee, laying her head against his shoulder and gently rubbing his arm. “He's gonna be okay Danny, you know how stubborn he is,” she says softly after a bit as he drinks the dark liquid letting it burn his throat out of punishment for allowing his partner to die for failing to protect him. “Everyone's luck dies out one way or another Sea breeze,” Danny says quietly so he doesn't disturb the other visitors.

Kono smiled slightly at the nickname, it's been a long time since he had said it. God, she missed her two big idiots so much... Her ohana.

“He's strong Danny… He’ll pull through, cause he has a loving blonde to come back to.” She lightly teased-- even though her and Chin were gone, Danny had texted her and told her about how he had gained the courage to ask the SEAL out, right after she had called her cousin screaming how Chin owed her 50 bucks and that she knew it would be Danny who'd ask. She also knew about the ring Danny had. That's why she came back to Hawaii in the first place.

Danny was gonna propose to Steve next week. So the SEAL better come back to them or else Kono is gonna rip his soul back to his body and then kill him herself.

[wjforever]

Shatter me again. Chapter 91

I immediately rush forward, fly past the another boxes, through the another doors. I stop, straining my ears. The echo in the room amplifies sounds.

Breath. Heavy, labored.

No, I can't be wrong. And it couldn't just be my imagination. The closer I get, the more clearly I hear it. This is Adam. It has to be him.

I understand that an ambush may be waiting for me. That the soldiers could have stayed near Adam, so I grip my pistol tighter. Warner's pistol. I didn't put it on the safety again. To tell the truth, I have no idea how this is done. I'm not even sure it will fire again if I pull the trigger one more time. But this will be enough if I can at least scare the opponents, buy a second of time.

My whole body is ready for an attack, my finger is trembling at the trigger. And I remember how confidently I fired a few minutes ago. I have to suppress a wave of nausea, right now I need to focus on Adam. And, if necessary, stop people who may threaten him. Even if I have to shoot someone else. These people deserve it all. They deserve even worse.

A few more steps, a turn.

I freeze on the spot when I see Adam.

This picture is so terrible that it seems to me that only some psychopath who sees beauty in suffering and pain could have created it.

Familiar modus operandi.

Adam is hanging from bound wrists. His torso is naked, bloodied, covered with bruises and abrasions. His head is bent, his neck limp. His left leg drenched in blood, but I can see a tourniquet wrapped around his thigh. It seems they were trying to prolong his suffering. I realize that he's been hanging like this for quite a long time and I'm surprised that he hasn't dislocated his shoulders. Apparently, he's still trying to fight.

There are small windows under the ceiling of this room, and although it's already getting dark outside, I can clearly distinguish Adam's figure. I manage to see where the rope wrapped around his wrists leads, too. It's attached to some kind of metal rod running across the ceiling.  I take a closer look and understand that the rod is a part of a conveyor belt.

Only now do I realize that I'm in a slaughterhouse.

And Adam, like an animal carcass, is suspended on a conveyor belt.

I don't know what he planned to do with Adam. I have no idea. Were they going to let him bleed out to death slowly. Did Warner want to come back here when he was done with me? Was he going to somehow use all these creepy devices that are in this building. I shouldn't be thinking about it right now.

Although I can't see properly, even so it's obvious how pale Adam is. And this can't be a good sign, it means that I have very little time. 

Now is not the time for assumptions, fears, tears or tantrums. I have to act. And I do it, as I always do in critical situations. Maybe Warner wasn't so wrong about me when he said I was good at taking control of the situation. Because right now my head is cold. I don't indulge in suffering, I'm looking for solutions. I can suffer later.

I need to take Adam down somehow, but I have no idea how to do it without hurting him. If I just cut the rope, he will fall, because my strength is not enough to hold him. But I'm not sure he can be hit, given his condition. However I just can't let him hang any longer either.

Another problem is that the rope is very thick, and I have nothing with which I could cut it. And I'm not sure I can find anything around.

I don't think there are soldiers waiting for me. This fear has long since subsided. Because if they were here, they would have shown themselves long ago. I'm not that much of a threat to people with guns, and Warner hardly gave them order to play with me. He was going to play with me himself. However this means they can come back here at any moment, and this is another reason for me to hurry up to take Adam off.

I decide that first of all I need to check what condition Adam is in. To understand whether he's conscious, whether he can take some measures himself. If he would be able to stay on his feet for even a few moments, everything could be much easier.

I quickly climb onto the conveyor belt and approach Adam. He's horribly mutilated, and I examine his wounds with my eyes. This doesn't really cripple or frighten me though. My emotions are still off. And yet I'm afraid to touch him. Because I'm too scared I'll hurt him, make the situation worse.

"Adam?" I whisper, hoping to get some kind of reaction from him.

Adam slowly tries to lift his head.

"Adam…"

My hand reaches out to him, but he manages to raise his head before I touch him. His gaze is slightly unfocused, and it takes him a few moments to see me. His face, surprisingly, is almost unharmed. There are only a few minor cuts and bruises. It's obvious that they concentrated more on his body. Not that it matters much to me. I just hope he doesn't have a concussion or other head injury.

"Juliette?"

A wave of warmth, tenderness and love washes over me. He's conscious, he recognizes me. And I love him so madly. I'm so happy that he's fine, even though I understand that this can change quickly. But the important thing is that I've found him alive, and we still have a chance.

The whole situation begins to shine in completely new colors. The world is sharply divided into black and white. And I hate all those who are involved in what is happening now. I tried to see the shades for too long, and eventually lost sight of the border. It blurred, disappeared. But I won't let that happen again. There are only two sides in war, and now I know for sure that war has been declared on us. A cruel, merciless, disgusting war. We didn't ask them about it. We have done nothing to deserve this. But it's too late now. We are all stuck in this and there is no way back. Just like there is no neutral side. You're either an ally or an opponent. And if you're an opponent, you have to die.

They show no mercy to us, so why should we be different? If we show weakness, they'll just destroy us, that's all. Good must also be able to fight, otherwise it will simply be swept off the face of the earth, soiled with dirt and blood.

I've already started this. I killed their commander. There is no turning back. It's too late to think about whether you did the right thing or not. It's no longer about morality and conscience, it's about the score that both sides keep. And as long as Adam, James and Kenji are alive, I'm leading in this terrifying score. I know that after what happened, the entire Reestablishment will be set against us. But my wings are already on fire, and I'm not going to try to extinguish this flame. I crossed the line when I pulled the trigger.

"Adam, Adam, I need to cut you down. You hear me? But you'll have to try…"

"Jesus, Juliette, how did you find me?" His voice is hoarse and barely distinguishable. He coughs, breathing hard. 

"Later, Adam. I'll tell you everything later. Can you stand? I need to find the knife now, and then…"

"My pants…"

I'm not sure I heard his words correctly. "What?"

"In," he swallows, "in my pants…"

I don't know where exactly and what should be in his pants, but I understand that it's too difficult for him to speak. So I just pat the fabric with my palms, trying to find something that will help me cut the rope.

In one of the pockets of his cargo pants, I find a pocketknife. A butterfly knife.

I want to wail in despair, because the knife seems to me too small for such a rope, but I have no other option, and I can only hope that it's at least sharp enough.

I get down from the belt and start moving the boxes. They are heavy enough for me, but I try not to think about it. One box for me. So I could climb up. The second one is for Adam to have something to lean on when I cut the rope.

A couple of moments, and I'm already standing on the box. Thank God, my fears are not confirmed. The knife is sharp enough, and it cuts through the rope quite easily, although I have to make an effort.

"Adam, you need to get ready," I say loudly and make a few last movements before the rope breaks in two.

A strange thought crosses my mind that this rope strongly reminds me of the one we used to escape. Which cut my arms and body. I don't know if this is an evil irony, a violent revenge, or just they always use the same ropes. But there is some poetic cruelty in it.

Adam's body looks like a bloody sack full of pain and suffering. I hoped that the box I placed would help him stay on his feet. Instead, his body falls almost limply. He awkwardly takes a step back, trying to keep his balance, one half of his body barely moving, and he falls with his side on the box, bumping into it rather than holding on it.

I cover my mouth with my hand, stifling a scream. One can only imagine the pain he's experiencing right now. 

When I get off the box, Adam's sitting leaning on the box and bending in half. I fold the knife and put it in my pocket. I need to get Adam out of here somehow, but I have no idea how to do it. Even just cutting him down proved to be a difficult task. I have no idea how I'm going to take him away of here. And most importantly, I have no idea where we should go. There may be soldiers on the streets. If they already know what happened to Warner, then it's even worse. Then I'm not just an escaped prisoner, I'm the killer of their Chief Commander.

And Adam… His condition leaves much to be desired. His leg is shot through. Although the tourniquet helps to partially stop the bleeding, it's dangerous in itself. Adam will either bleed to death or lose his leg. In our situation, this means death as well. His body is beaten. His wrists are rubbed raw and bleeding profusely.

I look around, notice some rags. Dirty, it's not known how long lying here and what they were used for. But it's better than nothing. I grab them and start tearing them to create some bandages, and then wrap the cloth around Adam's wrists. I need to stop the blood loss.

"Juliette…" Adam whispers to me, but I try not to react, too focused on his wounds. If I get distracted now, if I lose control of myself and let my emotions run wild, I won't be able to help Adam.

My hands are shaking from overexertion, from worry. Unlike the head, they perceive everything that's happening much worse. I allow my eyes to glide over Adam's face. He winces, pants heavily, but doesn't say a word about the pain. He's trying to be strong. My brave Adam.

"I can't believe you found me…" he says.

I make a few more movements, finishing messing with his bandages, and only then I let myself to switch my attention to him completely. 

"Adam…"

"Juliette… I'm sorry I couldn't do everything right, I dragged you into this… I... I want you to know…"

"No!" I cut him off abruptly in mid-sentence. "Don't you dare even start. Everything will be fine, do you hear?"

I know this is not the time or the place. That I should look for solutions to our problems. But I also know that I have to give Adam something that would help him maintain his strength. Hope. So I lean over to him and gently kiss his lips.

"You're not going to die here. We'll get out of here. You and me. We'll find James and Kenji. And then we'll all be safe."

Adam looks at me intently for a few seconds. "Kiss me again."

I lean over one more time and kiss him on the forehead. Adam frowns in displeasure, and I'm almost ready to laugh through my tears.

"I'll kiss you on the lips when we're safe. I'll give you a kiss, after which we'll both forget how to breathe. So you'll have to fight tooth and nail if you want to get it."

I see a faint smile on Adam's face. But I also see that his eyes barely see me and my composure is slowly starting to crumble. Anger begins to give way to fear. I'm afraid Adam will die. Right here and now. On my hands.

"Adam, we need to move. We have to get out of here. If they come back…"

He nods at me and I try to help him up. It turns out to be much more difficult than it seems. I remember how easily Adam carried me, how he managed to run with me on his shoulders. But it's hard for me to even lift his hand. I hate my weakness more than ever, because it prevents me from saving the person I love. And I'm getting mad again.

It took me eternity to find Adam. But it may take us a lifetime to get back out.

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[sophierequests]

honeycakes and sweetened words

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Pairing: Kaz Brekker x gn!Reader

A/N: I started this fic like one and a half months ago and completely forgot about it. But then I reread it, and I figured that I actually quite liked the idea, so I decided to continue it. Btw, the recipe is from Game of Thrones if anyone wants to know how I link my fandoms lmao. Also, I'm only missing one follower until I reach 100 omg help.

Summary: After a failed job, the reader decides to bake something to cheer the team up, not expecting anything in return. What if Kaz gives them the one thing they expected the least?

Genre: Fluff, and very slight angst

Word Count: 4.4K

Warnings: Mention of food, not eating, dead family, and a lot of feelings talk

The journey back to the Slat was completely silent. The only noise being the clanking of Kaz’s cane, Jesper’s annoyed breaths and your irregular steps on the wet cobblestone.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. You go in, acquire the shipment plans, and then you leave again. But much against your boss’ plan, the security measures had been drastically increased, making the team fall right into the trap.

Now, all six of his Crows were either utterly exhausted or hurt. Because of his incompetence. He should’ve done more. He should’ve been more careful. He should’ve been better. But he wasn’t. The only thing he could do now was avoiding the pitiful gazes of his friends, that still managed to bore inside the back of his head, as he staggered towards the Slat.

You walked next to Inej, cautiously keeping her upright to not put too much pressure on the gash that graced her side. It wasn’t life-threatening, but in a shithole such as the Barrel, you thought it was best to keep it from getting infected. Jesper and Wylan walked right beside you, huffing and puffing about the botched plan, even though no one dared to say a word. Nina and Matthias trailed behind you, occasionally shooting icy glances towards Kaz, who hadn’t spoken himself since you scrambled out of the building.

Arriving at the Slat was your saving grace. Finally, you could take a breath without having to worry about getting your head blown off in the next few minutes - unless Jesper would decide to take his obvious frustration out on Kaz and miss.

“Get yourself cleaned up and go to bed. We’ll try again tomorrow.” he said sternly, not looking at anyone, as he stood at the bottom of the stairs, bracing himself for the distinctively painful ascend.

“Kaz, I think we should-” you began, instantly being silenced by his head whipping around.

His eyes glared at you. But there was something distinct in his eyes. Behind the bitterness over a failed mission, there was a particular sense of worry. He would never admit it, but he did care for you - all of you that is. You saw it in the way his gaze travelled over you after a mission, checking for injuries and pausing to examine the severity of the ones he found. Or in the way that he made sure that the whole team was back on time, never daring to leave anyone behind. He was your friend, even though you sometimes wished that he was more than that. Unbeknownst to you, he felt a similar way.

However, care wasn’t something of use in the Barrel. It slowed him down, so he did his best to push it down.

“That wasn’t a suggestion, Y/N.” he snapped, not wasting another word before limping up the stairs, his bad leg giving him way more trouble than usual.

“That wasn’t a suggestion my ass.” Jesper grumbled after hearing the door to Kaz’s office click shut.

“He can be such a dick sometimes.” his boyfriend agreed, poorly wiping the leftover soot from his face.

“Inej, let’s get you up to the couch. I’ll fix you up quickly.” Nina sighed, followed by a quick nod coming from the girl you were still trying to hold upright.

You thanked the Saints when Matthias offered to help getting her upstairs. It wouldn’t have been impossible, but you were growing painfully aware of the bruises forming on your own body.

“Y/N? How about you? Joining us? Or are you too busy sulking over our grumpy loner upstairs?” the Heartrender smirked.

“Let him brood. It was his fault after all.” Matthias added, whilst he led Inej up the creaky stairs.

“I’m not sulking over Kaz.” you snorted, trying - and failing - to sound convincing.

“Oh sure. But your heartbeat would suggest otherwise.”

“Wait, Y/N has a crush on Kaz?” Jesper giggled, staring at you dumbfounded.

“Congratulations! You’re the last to find out. Well, second-last. Kaz is also strong in the game.” Wylan retorted playfully, giving you a sly wink.

“Ha ha ha, very funny guys.” you shook your head, following the others up the stairs.

After everyone managed to clean themselves up, Nina skilfully healing wounds and scrapes, you realized something. Most of you hadn’t eaten today. It was made painfully obvious when you heard the low growl coming from your own stomach.

While your friends started bickering about the plan, opening a fresh bottle of rum, you slipped away silently, making your way into the kitchen. Normally, the team would just go out and get something to eat, but it was late. Way too late for any serious pub or street vendor to still have open doors. So you decided that it was on you to take care of that.

Nina and Inej would scold you for that later. They hated when you played the role of the caring parent, doing your best to make sure that they were properly cleaned up, fed and safe. It wasn’t that they disliked being taken care of, but they knew that you would sacrifice your own comfort for every single one of them - even the people that didn’t even give you a word of gratitude back.

When you opened the pantry, you scoffed. Jesper and Wylan were supposed to run to the shops tomorrow, leaving the storeroom pretty sparse of anything useful. However, you remembered the stash of ingredients that you kept stowed away in your compartment. You always had a few things hidden away, just in case you grew homesick.

The recipe you had stored with them was scribbled on a browning piece of parchment paper. If you hadn't made it a hundred times before, you probably wouldn’t be able to read the messy handwriting properly. Honeycakes were one of your grandmother’s favourite sweets, that she always used to make for you when you visited her in the countryside of Novokribirsk. The recipe was one of the few things you had left of her after the destruction of the city, so you were very thoughtful whilst making them.

With determined hand movements, you began preparing the dough. It almost felt like a ritual, by the way your body moved on its own accord. Flour, honey, sugar, ale, yeast, salt and almonds found their way into your mixing bowl quickly, as you followed the mental steps thoroughly. You let the balls of dough sit for a while, giving them time to rise while you prepared a lemon glacé to pour over them later. After they were done rising, you swiftly pushed them into the preheated oven until their colour changed into a golden hue. Using a small paring knife, you cut out a tiny hole, careful to not completely pierce them. The holes were filled with a bit of honey and an ounce of cinnamon.

“What smells so good in here?” Jesper inquired, as he popped his head inside the cluttered kitchen area, where you were currently cleaning up your supplies.

His sudden presence startled you momentarily, but you broke out into a laugh, as you saw him immediately eying the plates stacked with sweets.

“What is that?” he chuckled, moving forward, trying to grab one of the buns.

You quickly swatted away his hand with a towel, giving him a cheeky grin.

“Can’t you wait?” you giggled, picking up a few of the plates you had already filled, “These are honeycakes. I made some for all of you since we didn’t really have the privilege of eating today.”

“Y/N, you’re Saint! Should I help you with the other ones?” he offered eagerly, pointing at the remaining plates.

You nodded, carefully balancing your own ones whilst walking towards the living room. All of the Crows were still lounging inside, the same constellation that you left earlier, just slightly tipsier. Their heads turned as you and Jesper waltzed with the cakes, surprisingly, all of the plates were still intact.

“So that’s what you went off to do!” Wylan exclaimed happily, as you set his plate in front of him, “We thought you went up to-”

“Merchling, don’t test it.” you said, a puckish grin on your lips.

“Why didn’t you say anything? We could’ve helped you.” Inej asked, seemingly being the only one that hadn’t had one too many glasses of rum.

“It’s alright, really. The recipe isn’t too difficult, so I wouldn’t have needed much help anyway.” you answered, giving her a comforting nod.

“Who’s that plate for?” Nina inquired, pointing at the seventh dish that stood on the edge of the side table.

You felt your cheeks flush red. You especially set one aside for Kaz. No matter how much of an asshole he might be, he still deserved to eat something. But because of Jesper’s hasty appearance, you forgot to put it out of reach so that you could secretly bring it up to him later. And of course, Nina knew exactly who it was for. The teasing tone in her voice told you what her real intention was.

“It’s for Kaz. He probably ate just as much as we did.” you replied, setting down the last plate in front of Matthias, who gave you a thankful smile - which was rare for the usually tight-lipped Fjerdan.

“I doubt that he’s coming down anytime soon.” he commented, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“I’m aware. I’m going to bring it up to him really quick.”

“Do you really think he deserves that?” Jesper cocked a brow, “After the way he talked to you earlier, I wouldn’t have even considered it.”

“Jes, it’s alright. He’s still my friend after all, and I’d dislike having him starve. I’ll just drop them off and leave again.”

“Good luck with that. I’ll try to stop Jesper from stealing stuff off your plate.” Wylan smiled back at you, giving his boyfriend a gentle jab to the ribs before anything else could leave his mouth.

“I would never!” Jesper exclaimed, giving the redhead next to him an offended push.

“I’ll be back in just a few, feel free to already start eating.”

With that, you picked up Kaz’s share, leaving the room as quickly as you could. The stairs seemed to be especially creaky today, probably announcing your ascend before you would even be able to knock.

“I don’t want your benevolence, Wraith.” his voice rasped through the thick wood of the door, as your knuckles rapped against it.

Even though he sounded utterly annoyed, you still decided to enter his office. The familiar scent of long-forgotten coffee and varnished wood bit your nose immediately. As usual, he sat at his desk, at least three different blueprints sprawled out in front of him. Your eyes darted over to the notebook he used to plan out his heists. The notes were messy and probably not that useful, judging by the dishevelled look on his face.

“I just said-” he stopped himself when he saw you standing in the door frame, balancing a plate in your hand and giving him a concerned glance.

“Didn’t I make myself clear? I told you that you should go to bed. We still have a lot of work to do tomorrow.” he said, his voice a bit softer than before, but still visibly irritated.

“You made yourself perfectly clear. I just decided not to listen.” you shot back, walking towards his desk, and putting down the plate right on top of his plans, “And I’d also suggest that you should practice what you preach. You look terrible.”

“What is that?” he questioned, his face contorted into a frown, as he eyed the cakes suspiciously.

“Food. You didn’t eat anything the whole day. Don’t try to deny it. It may not be the most nutritional option, but it does the job.” you said, already preparing to leave again.

“You can take it with you again. I won’t eat it whatever that is.” he retorted dryly.

You sighed, not being able to suppress the slight feeling of hurt that crept in on you after his harsh comment. Kaz was easily one of the most stubborn people you knew, and his constant broodiness managed to drive you mad.

“I won’t.” you stated bluntly, “Whether you like it or not, I don’t particularly enjoy watching you ruin yourself. The mission went to shit, we didn’t find what we were looking for and some of us got hurt. I understand that this is gnawing at you, but you can’t do anything about that anymore, can you? No matter whose fault that was, you still need to take care of yourself, Brekker. I’m not doing all of that to annoy you, even though that is what you want to believe. I’m doing it because I care.”

Kaz opened his mouth as if he tried to scold you for speaking to him like that, but he closed it quickly after, only giving you a look you did not recognize. You weren’t even sure if you wanted him to say something. A thank you wasn’t in his vocabulary, so you didn’t expect it, however, you did expect him to say something.

“Eat it or don’t. It’s your choice. I’m not going to sit here and wait for you to figure yourself out. Just make sure to bring down the plate tomorrow, I don’t want it to grow mould.” you declared, turning on your heels, and walking out of the room.

“Y/N, wait.” he croaked out, but the door was already shut before the words even left his mouth.

“Someone looks elated.” Nina joked, her expression souring as she saw the scowl on your face, “Is he still acting like an asshole?”

“Of course he is.” you mumbled, flopping down on the empty couch, whilst picking up your own plate.

“What did he do this time?” Inej rolled her eyes, nibbling at the last one of her honeycakes.

“So little and so much at the same time.” you groaned, finally being able to eat something yourself, “He’s just so difficult sometimes.”

“And still you’re putting up with him.” the Sharpshooter sitting across from you cooed.

“Not helpful.” you grunted.

“He’ll come around someday.” Inej tried futilely.

This seemed to ring true sooner than you had hoped for.

Before you could voice your dismay about her statement, the whole group went silent. Heavy steps accompanied by the regular clicking of a cane made their way down the stairs. You just assumed that he would go to the kitchen to get rid of the plate, so you tried to ignore him. But he didn’t seem to take that route.

Not wanting to allow the awkward silence to settle, Wylan started a random conversation, trying to engage every person in the room. It worked for a bit until the steps approached your room. Kaz entered the room wordlessly, holding the plate in his hand, his cane in the other. His eyes travelled over the six of you, landing on the empty spot next to you. With a heavy sigh, he limped towards the couch you were sitting on, letting himself settle down right beside you. You felt your heart pick up and secretly hoped that Nina wasn’t trying to be sneaky by listening to it. He was way too close to you, you thought, making you scoot a bit closer to the armrest.

Slowly, the conversation picked back up again. You didn’t even really know what they were currently talking about, but you still tried to give some random input. You were made painfully aware of his presence every time he shifted or took an especially loud breath. Much to your surprise, he had taken off one of his gloves, using his bare hand to eat the cakes he had on his plate. He probably only came down to show you that he didn’t throw them away, but the fact that he was eating what you made, gave you a small flash of pride. The tension between the two of you only increased the longer the conversation went on. He didn’t speak or indulge in the little chit-chat his friends had going on. He only ate silently, occasionally glancing over at you, assuming that you wouldn’t notice. But you did. Because you did the exact same.

“Damn, Y/N, I didn’t know that you could bake. These are amazing!” Jesper spoke, his voice muffled by the residue of the honeycakes still in his mouth.

“Thank you, Jes.” you smiled back, relaxing a bit at being included in the conversation, “It’s an old family recipe.”

“It’s Ravkan, isn’t it? I didn’t know that you have family there.” Nina asked, “We used to get them on special occasions when I still was at the orphanage, but none of them were as good as these.”

“I had family there.” you corrected, feeling Kaz stiffen next to you, “My mother’s side of the family used to live in Novokribirsk. My grandmother always made these when I came to visit them, so it feels like eating a piece of home. Sometimes, when I start to miss them again, I go down to the kitchen and make a batch. An admittedly smaller one though. And I have to admit that my baking skills have increased drastically since I started making them.”

Kaz was one of the few people that knew about the fate of your family. However, he had never known about your occasional baking tours. He almost felt guilty about never noticing when you grew homesick.

“It’s a pretty neat skill.” Wylan smiled, wiping some crumbs off of his boyfriend’s lips with his sleeve.

“Probably one of your best skills when you’re living with us.” Nina snorted, earning an offended gasp from you.

“I’d have to disagree with that.” Kaz’s voice almost gave you a heart attack.

Everyone looked at him, as he realized how that sounded.

“Are you calling my baking trash, Mr Brekker?” you asked, trying your best to not sound too hurt.

“No. Quite the opposite actually. I’m saying that you have other skills that I do value a bit more.”

Again, it dawned on him that this last statement could be interpreted horribly. Especially by someone with as dirty minds as Jesper or Nina. Who, judging by the look on their faces, thought about exactly that.

“Alright,” you began, a faint blush rising to your cheeks, “That was fun. For like a minute. But I really think I should get back to cleaning that mess up.”

“We can do that tomorrow.” Inej smiled, not being able to hide the exhaustion that had washed over her body.

“Inej, as much as I would love to agree with you, it’s the middle of the summer. I don’t want us to have a fly infestation in the kitchen. I’ll take care of it, don’t worry.”

“At least let us help you.” Wylan suggested, already trying to sit up.

“Guys, stop. I’m perfectly able to do that on my own. As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm, I’ll get it done quicker on my own.”

All of them gave you a light-hearted smile, watching you pick up the empty plates. Kaz and Mathias’ plates were the only ones that still had some scraps on them, so you decided to let him keep them.

“Next time we’ll bake something for you.” Nina said determinedly.

“Of course, I’m waiting for it.” you laughed, knowing about the Crow’s dire history when it came to baking.

The kitchen wasn’t as chaotic as you had expected it, but it wasn’t necessarily clean either, so you decided to get to work quickly, scrubbing all the leftover dough or honey off of the kitchen tiles. It shouldn’t take long to clean the counters.

You were pulled from your thoughts as the door opened.

“Just put the plates on the table, Matthias.” you mused, currently rinsing out your mixing bowl.

When you heard a cane hit the floor, you immediately started to tense up. You turned your head, looking back at Kaz, who had just silently closed the door behind him.

“Oh, sorry.” you muttered quickly, wanting to get back to your dishes as fast as you could.

“I can help you.” he offered, suddenly standing almost right behind you, the two empty plates still in his hand.

“It’s fine. You don’t need to.” you replied coldly, the memories of his attitude earlier coming back to you.

You heard him let out a harsh breath, as he placed the plates on the counter next to him with a clank. He walked up next to you, forcing you to look at him.

“Listen,” he started, trying to meet your gaze as best as he could, “I didn’t mean what I said earlier. I was frustrated, and I didn’t want you to pity me again. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t pity you, Kaz.”

“Well, it sure feels like it.”

“But I don’t. Wanting you to take better care of yourself has nothing to do with pity.” you said bluntly, picking up a tea towel to dry the wet bowl.

He paused, trying to register what you had just said. You were right. You never had that distinct look of pity in your eyes, whenever he complained about his leg or came back from a failed job. Instead, you’d rather give him a gentle look of sympathy, whilst making sure that he was alright. It was a custom that he appreciated tremendously.

“Do you need something else?” you continued, grabbing the plates he had put down earlier.

“I didn’t mean to insinuate that your food was bad, I hope you know that. It was actually very…nice.”

You snorted at that, making his heart skip a beat as he listened to your laugh. It was the first time he heard you laugh, or even chuckle today, and it felt like finally coming home.

“What? An apology and a compliment coming from the Kaz Brekker? Someone tell Jes to shoot me, because this can’t be real.” you joked, head thrown back as you stared back at him with a smile.

Maybe I should compliment them more often, he thought.

Or maybe I shouldn’t, the memory of his little mishap earlier crept back.

“Also,” you commenced, turning sideways with one hand on your hip and the other on the edge of the sink, “what did you mean by saying that I have other skills you value more? That came out pretty wrong, you know.”

“You do have other skills, don’t you?” he asked back, trying to play off the inherent awkwardness.

“I know that I do, but I’d be interested in what kind of skills you find…valuable.” you smirked, a sudden rush of boldness going through you.

His breath hitched in his throat. Suddenly, he was painfully aware of how close you were standing next to each other. If he wanted to - if he’d be able to - he could just move forward a bit to touch you. But he knew that he couldn’t. He could, however, start being honest.

“I appreciate your kindness.” these words felt strange tumbling out of his mouth, “The Barrel has ruined so many, but you? You never stopped being kind. I see it in the way you tend to Jesper whenever he has gotten into a fight again, or the way you watch out for Nina when you know that she has overworked herself.”

A blush began to form on your cheeks. Hearing him be this honest wasn’t something that you knew how to deal with.

“You’re also pretty fucking smart. And cunning. I like that. Even though it’s also one of your rather annoying traits.” he continued, “You manage to put things together, that I wouldn’t have thought of in the first place. If you hadn't caught that there was an explosive hidden, and then tried your best to berate me to leave, things would’ve looked quite grim for all of us.”

You tried to say something, an attempt at slowing down your heart rate, but Kaz was quicker.

“Even though I might not look like the person to appreciate it, I value that you care about us. About me. I don’t recall ever thanking you properly for what you do for u- me. It’s not necessarily easy for me to accept that, but I’ll promise to try.”

“Kaz, what are you trying to say?” you asked him, careful to not push him too much.

“I guess I’m saying that I… I value you.” he stated cautiously.

“I am one of your most valuable investments after all.”

“No, Y/N. I mean, you are, but you’re more than that.” he fumbled for fitting words, but you already seemed to have figured out what he was trying to tell you.

“Do you have feelings for me, Kaz?” you whispered, trying to hide the immediate shame that followed.

What if he didn’t?

“I do.” he admitted, not daring to look you in the eyes, even as your lips curled upwards into a wide smile.

Now it was your turn to look for the right words to say. Like, what do you say when the closed-off, overdramatic gang leader, you had a crush on for years confesses his feelings for you? Thank you?

Your answer apparently took too long to form, since before you were even able to open your mouth, he began to shake his head, pushing himself away from the counter he had been leaning against.

“I apologize,” he huffed, “this isn’t right. I’m sorry for making things weird. This is utterly unprofessional, and I should’ve known better-”

“Kaz-”

“Saints, that was stupid. Can we please just forget that-”

“Kaz, stop.” you interjected, a bit louder this time, causing him to pause, “It’s mutual.”

It took him a second to process your words properly. Did you just say that you loved him back, or was he just interpreting way too much into the whole situation?

“What?” was the only thing he could muster.

“I have feelings for you too, Kaz.” you said slowly, watching his mouth fall just slightly agape.

“Oh.” he felt his heart leap out of his chest after you said these words.

You laughed again, this time, because of his absolute flabbergasted reaction. Even his lips managed to quirk up into a barely visible smile.

“At least one person in here is about to die from a heart attack, what is going on.” Nina’s voice called out right before she threw open the door, effectively startling both of you.

“Oh?” she beamed, seeing the situation you were in, “Am I interrupting something?”

“No.” you started.

“Yes, Zenik. You are.” Kaz said quickly, a crooked grin on his lips.

[elvisabutler]

ride it, my pony

summary: your boyfriend has been holed up with elvis and bones all night. you would like some attention. he never can say no to you. fandom: elvis 2022 rating: m pairing: steve binder x gender neutral reader word count: 1209 warnings: thigh riding. use of the words baby, sweetheart to describe the reader. choking with an ascot. minor cum eating? like basically lick your fingers clean. public play. ...voyeurism. you'll see on that last one. author's note: welcome to day 16 of kinktober, thigh riding with steve binder. this was fun. the twist came to me at work where trust me i lived a very weird day so of course that's what comes from it. i know i am now...two days behind but i'll catch up, have no fear.

"Babe, you have got to be quiet." Steve murmurs against your lips as you pull him into the open control room. There's only a few of you still in the building, but Steve is very aware that if you both get caught he's going to have to answer to the higher ups and that is a headache he does not feel up to dealing with. Not while also dealing with the biggest pain of a manager he's ever met in the form of Tom Parker.

You laugh softly. "I know, I know, be quiet so no one hears us. What do you think, Elvis or Bones is going to catch us? Bones has run into us enough in weird positions and Elvis is- Elvis. He's probably done worse. It'll be fine."

He just looks at you and frowns before sitting down in one of the chairs. He pats his thigh. "Come on, I've got maybe ten-fifteen minutes tops, we've got to make this quick or E's gonna-"

If Steve had more to say it's swallowed up in the bruising kiss you give him as you center yourself onto his thigh. Fifteen minutes was not enough for Steve to have sex with you, you are aware of this. IT is enough for him to be able to get you off though and that's the real crux of the issue. Your tongue slides against his, exploring his mouth in ways you normally wouldn't when you two need to be quick but he's been busy and you want to show him how much you missed him. When you pull back there's a bit of saliva that trails between your lips and you find that you want to see that over and over. Another time, perhaps.

Your hips start to gyrate on him as you use his shoulders as purchase, it's not perfect, not by any means, but it's getting the job done. The motion sends just enough pressure between your legs that you groan a little, seeking out more of it. Steve's watching you use his thigh as your way to get yourself off and he wonders why the two of you have never tried this before.

"Look at you. You're so needy tonight. Jealous I'm spending time with EP and not you? So jealous you had to come in while we're working?"

Your eyes had fallen shut, trying to focus on the sensation of you rubbing against him. Trying to focus on how his hands are gripping your hips so you don't fall and they're almost tight enough to bruise. At that though, at what he says your eyes shoot open. "Jealous my boyfriend is spending all night with Elvis Presley. Maybe a little. I did like him in his movies. Viva Las Vegas when he was all wet. Maybe I should have dragged him out here- he would have-"

Steve takes the opportunity to bite your neck, it's a tiny nip but it's enough to drown out your words in a muffled whimper. Steve's focused on the doorway, focused on the dark spot in the doorway but you don't notice as you're facing the other way.

"You're on my thigh, babe. He wouldn't know what to do with you. My sweetheart, my minx. You'd chew him up and spit him out." His thigh moves to meet your gyrations, chasing after the space between your legs to add more pressure, to see your eyes roll into the back of your head. "He'd be talking too much you'd have choke him with his ascot."

Your eyes light up for a moment before your hand moves to his neck, playing with the ascot he has fastened around it. A smirk crosses your features as you pull just slightly, earning a cough from Steve. "I'd have to choke him? Mr. Binder. If I didn't know any better you want me to do that to you. Can't stay quiet either?"

He can still talk, just barely but it's softer this time, closer to a murmur against your ear. He takes one of your hands from his shoulder and moves it down to his clothed cock pressing against his slacks. "I feel like I'm going to come in my pants like a teenager, sweetheart. You know how loud I get."

You growl something that's practically inhuman at the knowledge, your speed increasing as you hear a bit back moan that sounds just a little deeper than Steve's but write it off as your boyfriend losing himself to the sensation of you on against his thigh. The pressure isn't as consistent as you'd like but you can feel something building, feel the heat coiling in your lower abdomen as Steve starts whispering more filth the tighter your grip on his ascot gets. "Babe, should have had you take off your pants. You're gonna make a mess of yourself and I can't clean it up. Promise tomorrow, later- We'll take a few hours break."

The image that comes to mind has Steve between your legs, taking his time with you, his mouth on your most intimate parts earning moans and groans as your hand yanks at his hair. Your answering whine has his grip on your hips tightening as you move faster, desperate to cum for him- for both of you. One of his hands, the one not on your hip moves between your legs, under your slacks as you thrust in just a certain way that has you biting back your moan of pleasure and practically flopping against him. You feel Steve shudder against you, your grip on the ascot making it a little hard for him to do anything but a whimper as he follows you. He pulls his hand of your slacks and finds that there's a bit of cum on them. Your hand at this point has dropped down from his ascot and you eye his hand, watching as he just licks the cum off his fingers with a smirk.

"Steve-" You start before he pulls you in for a kiss.

"Later, babe." A pause. "We're still gonna be here for a while, why don't you go home and clean yourself up. I'll- I'll call you when I'm going to leave, okay?"

Your answering pout almost does him in, almost makes him forget that there's another person in this room that only he can tell his here and almost makes him take off your clothes. He has a job to do though and you- he wants to keep you to himself. You sigh.

"Promise? No sleeping at the studio?"

He puts his hand up and does a scouts' salute. "Scout's honor, babe. Now, go. Love you."

You hop off him, adjusting your slacks and underwear before rushing out the door. "Love you too!"

Steve stays sitting down for a good five minutes, listening to his breathing as well as the mildly heavy breathing of the person in the shadows. He moves to stand up and walk out the door, prepared to shut it before he stops at the threshold. "E, next time you want to watch me and my partner, give us a warning. They're mine and I'm not really big on getting them stolen from under me by you. See you in five."