#and yet! we push onwards

[scary-grace]

I’ve only ever written one canon divergence fic prior to this one and that was in 2019. Apparently between then and now I forgot how hard it is to write canon divergence fics.

[volivolition]

[imagines animatics] cool. anyway. [start crying]

[nerdygaymormon]

The LGBTQ community has seen controversy regarding acceptance of different groups (bisexual and transgender individuals have sometimes been marginalized by the larger community), but the term LGBT has been a positive symbol of inclusion and reflects the embrace of different identities and that we’re stronger together and need each other. While there are differences, we all face many of the same challenges from broader society.

In the 1960′s, in wider society the meaning of the word gay transitioned from ‘happy’ or ‘carefree’ to predominantly mean ‘homosexual’ as they adopted the word as was used by homosexual men, except that society also used it as an umbrella term that meant anyone who wasn’t cisgender or heterosexual. The wider queer community embraced the word ‘gay’ as a mark of pride.

The modern fight for queer rights is considered to have begun with The Stonewall Riots in 1969 and was called the Gay Liberation Movement and the Gay Rights Movement.

The acronym GLB surfaced around this time to also include Lesbian and Bisexual people who felt “gay” wasn’t inclusive of their identities. 

Early in the gay rights movement, gay men were largely the ones running the show and there was a focus on men’s issues. Lesbians were unhappy that gay men dominated the leadership and ignored their needs and the feminist fight. As a result, lesbians tended to focus their attention on the Women’s Rights Movement which was happening at the same time. This dominance by gay men was seen as yet one more example of patriarchy and sexism. 

In the 1970′s, sexism and homophobia existed in more virulent forms and those biases against lesbians also made it hard for them to find their voices within women’s liberation movements. Betty Friedan, the founder of the National Organization for Women (NOW), commented that lesbians were a “lavender menace” that threatened the political efficacy of the organization and of feminism and many women felt including lesbians was a detriment.

In the 80s and 90s, a huge portion of gay men were suffering from AIDS while the lesbian community was largely unaffected. Lesbians helped gay men with medical care and were a massive part of the activism surrounding the gay community and AIDS. This willingness to support gay men in their time of need sparked a closer, more supportive relationship between both groups, and the gay community became more receptive to feminist ideals and goals. 

Approaching the 1990′s it was clear that GLB referred to sexual identity and wasn’t inclusive of gender identity and T should be added, especially since trans activist have long been at the forefront of the community’s fight for rights and acceptance, from Stonewall onward. Some argued that T should not be added, but many gay, lesbian and bisexual people pointed out that they also transgress established gender norms and therefore the GLB acronym should include gender identities and they pushed to include T in the acronym. 

GLBT became LGBT as a way to honor the tremendous work the lesbian community did during the AIDS crisis. 

Towards the end of the 1990s and into the 2000s, movements took place to add additional letters to the acronym to recognize Intersex, Asexual, Aromantic, Agender, and others. As the acronym grew to LGBTIQ, LGBTQIA, LGBTQIAA, many complained this was becoming unwieldy and started using a ‘+’ to show LGBT aren’t the only identities in the community and this became more common, whether as LGBT+ or LGBTQ+. 

In the 2010′s, the process of reclaiming the word “queer” that began in the 1980′s was largely accomplished. In the 2020′s the LGBTQ+ acronym is used less often as Queer is becoming the more common term to represent the community. 

[radioactive-mouse]

i keep thinking about like. how the brutality levels vary between seasons and how secret life is the natural culmination of everything these people have been through and the watchers pushing everything to extremes. i’m going to try to articulate how crazy this makes me

3rd Life: god. 3rd life was a clear cut war. we haven’t seen a season since where nearly everyone has such an intense devotion to their chosen faction. the fact that there’s no precedent that they’re coming back next season, the fact that as far as they know, dying means staying dead, makes just how much they’re willing to go down with the ship that much more heartbreaking. grian ended the season exactly how it was played by damn near everyone else— i love you, i would do anything for you, i would rather die than keep going without you. the season of widows.

Last Life: and then they come back. and then ending things isn’t an option. and all of a sudden it’s not a war, it’s a death match, and damn is the competition is vicious. deaths are more often than not a vague, impersonal thing— not get away from my king, my husband, my charge— just the flash of a knife and a quick sorry, just playing the game! if 3rd life told you to hold the ones you love close, defend them to your last breath, last life urges you to burn that love out of your chest entirely.

Double Life: but everything slows down eventually. no more dying for the one you love— just learning to live with them. double life is about knowing that when you die, you will go together, hand and hand into the dark. a soap opera, the players joke. a small kindness, the universe replies. again, pearl wins the same way everyone else lost— no, not yet, please, just give us a little longer together, i’m not ready, i’m so sorry—

Limited Life: but the clock, unyielding, ticks ever onward. and god, everyone is starting to feel it. that sick, nauseating feeling of dread creeping up on them: what if it never ends? what if this is it, this is all that’s left for us— tearing each other apart over and over and over again, and for what? for a show? to feed those hungry things lurking in the dark? we’ll give them a show. bombs rain from the sky, the world shaking under the weight of it. there isn’t a thing left by the end that’s not rubble. we’re all doomed! the players cry, laughing with nothing but nihilistic, unrestrained joy. none of it matters! we come back again, and again, and again, have a little fun with it! light the fuse, collateral be damned. when death means so little, what’s the point in pretending they don’t take a little joy in it? we settle this like grian and scar before us, scott jokes, armor and weapons tossed to the side. are you insane? martyn thinks, remembering the hollow look that would wash over grian’s face when he thought no one was watching. it ruined him. it will not ruin me. this is a death match for a reason.

Secret Life: and here it is. the natural conclusion. this season is candy colored, the map dotted with cute pink houses and silly builds, the players all running around doing these ridiculous tasks. it’s so easy to forget how bloody this season was. unclosing wounds, bruises that don’t fade, the sting of fire or falling from a simple misstep. the hurt never goes away, but it gets easier to ignore— distract yourself with something silly to pass the time: spyglasses and frogs and the ugliest house you’ve ever seen and matching leather jackets and the doghouse and the relationSHIP and a weird tunnel full of doors and secret soulmates and god it’s almost, almost, enough to forget how much it all aches, how much the grief weighs on you, how many times someone you love has died, sometimes to your own blade. almost none of the grudges you hold are real by now, not really. not when you’re going to live and die with these people for as long as the hungry, many-eyed things delight in your suffering. you love each other, in the strangest way— sure you’ve all killed and betrayed each other in a thousand different ways, but at the end of the day, they’re all you have. clinging to each other in the face of the vast, unknowable horrors that drive you to slash each other to pieces. it’s still a game, after all. they’ve gotta figure out how to be good sports about it eventually.

[naffeclipse]

Chokepoint

Reader x Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

This request was such a blast to write! Thank you to the lovely @bluemoon1331 for letting me write your amazing AU called Then There Was One. It's the AI apocalypse, and the reader is the last human on earth. It's a very good thing you have the one and only Daycare Attendant at your side, but that doesn't mean you're out of the woods yet.

Content Warning: End of the world and angst.

———

Your boots crunch on dirt and grit strewn about a lone paved road leading into a small town. The day is warm for autumn. You lift your eyes to the golden yellow sky as the sun dips deeper and deeper down. Nightfall will bring the cold. The cold will bring a chance of catching sickness or becoming too slow to escape from purple-eyed robots. You adjust your backpack strap, check your taser in your pocket, and look to the only person you trust in the world. 

Sun. The animatronic is tall and lissom. His faceplate moves on a swivel, surveying the quiet of the suburbs you trespass into. Cars are strewn about the blacktop and pushed off onto the shoulder of the road. 

His pale eyes turn on you as your fingers clench tighter around the strap of your gear. Loosening your grip, you smile at him.

“So far, so good?”

“About sentient AI life that would love to end your very existence being notably absent, yes!” he gives cheerfully. 

You arch an eyebrow but humor laces your lips. Sun always knows how to put it delicately. He reaches back, however, without breaking his long-legged stride to tighten the other strap and secure your pack better against your back.

“Careful of your paint,” he clicks his tongue, “If you rub it too much, it’ll come off and show your pretty face!” 

You almost reach up to touch your cheek, heating slightly under his casual comment, but stop short. It’s not much, just basic Halloween make-up you had stored away for an occasion that resembles enough silicon to let you not catch the eye of a robotic entity from ten yards away. The few metal pieces decorating your body are like a band-aid on an open wound—it works for the moment. 

“I’ll need to get some more soon,” you say. 

“Perhaps we can find supplies in one of the stores,” Sun inclines his head, his yellow sun rays pointing toward the narrow chokepoint of what must be the main street entrance. Did people try to barricade themselves against the onslaught of rising technology? A shudder rolls through you.

It’s too bad you didn’t have more make-up from a cosplay you had planned on putting together before the world ended. Funny how life gets in the way of your plans. Though you coped well for a month or two after the initial destruction of life as you knew it, you had thrown yourself into writing fanfiction and posting it online. Like shouting into the void. To your amusement (and downfall), many an AI commented on your work. It felt like something, a spark of light in the wake of the blackening isolation and your stubborn determination to continue despite… everything. 

But then said AI put two and two together: you’re a human, and you need to be destroyed.

“Somewhere to rest might be a good idea,” Sun adds, though, by the way, he’s speaking a bit more deliberately, you fear you missed something else he had said. It had not gone unnoticed. 

“Right, that would be good.” You nod and lift your chin higher. “Let’s go.”

He walks you towards the makeshift barrier, a bunch of junk from cars to concrete slabs have been settled against the chokepoint. Sun stops a moment, his hand on your shoulder. You indulge him. His caution has saved your life more than once, but sometimes, you feel like a little chick under a mother hen. 

Sun is sweet. You just wished he didn’t worry too much. Can animatronics get sick from stress? Robotic life is so advanced now, that it would make sense for them to get some of humanity’s lesser qualities, but maybe not. Maybe they’re better than people.

Slipping between the narrow opening, Sun gently beckons you onward. You look into his optics, so milky pale, but sometimes, like now, when the evening is getting just a bit deeper into dusk, you find the faint gray outline of pupils. 

You would follow him anywhere.

“Come here, daffodil,” he urges. 

You slip after him and set foot onto a desolate street lined with buildings pressed shoulder to shoulder. The quiet hangs heavy. A drug store immediately catches your eye. Sunlight begins to burn as the shadow creeps up higher and higher.

Before you can take a step, Sun’s hand clamps on your shoulder like a vise. His expression is frozen in his constant grin.

“I was mistaken,” he says, the cheer of his voice lowering to a razor-thin utterance. “Get behind me.”

You step back as much as Sun drags you behind him. He plants himself before you. Clinging to his arm, which wraps halfway around you like a shield, you watch him face the street. The adrenaline surge into your heart causes your chest to heave. Your eyes dart around for the threat, and then you freeze.

Animatronics crawl out from open doorways, pushing open car doors and slipping onto the road. The slow approach of grinning, silicone smiles injects ice-cold water into your veins. Many still wear the garb from their original roles: a nanny, a crime-stopper, and a store clerk. So many jobs were thrust upon these robots before sentience took hold, and now they walk the path humans used to rule.

The store clerk leads the approach. Pale gray and grinning with a smiling face—so different from Sun’s—stops. He wears a simple green apron with “CLERK” spelled across it in messy, brown paint. 

It stands before you both. Steepling its gray digits, it tilts its head slightly and speaks in a masculine voice. “Welcome! It is good to see fellow AI come upon our little residency. I am the Clerk. Tell us, why do you travel?”

Your heartbeat fills your tongue. A dryness begins to overtake your mouth, and you’re so very thankful that Sun must do the talking. If you try, they'll catch the feeble tremors in your voice. More machines crowd behind the ringleader, and you slowly reach for your taser.

The only weapon the Daycare Attendant gave you. It is the only one you need.

“Hello, friend. We travel because we have been stuck for far too long,” Sun greets the Clerk enthusiastically. He doesn’t look back at you, but his hand curls tighter around your wrist. “It is our gift now to choose. We choose to see all the world has to offer!”

“Quite an excellent reason,” the Clerk nods his head. “And what of your quiet companion? Nothing a matter, I hope?”

“No speakers, I’m afraid,” Sun nods his head, subtly somber.

���Ah, that is unfortunate.” The Clerk peers around Sun as you duck your head, hiding your eyes. For a brief instant, you catch the dark purple of his optics. 

Sun stiffens. He shifts his stance in the slightest but it’s too late. You grip your taser tight.

A silence permeates the air. The Clerk’s steepled fingers then become interlocked into clenched fists. 

“We heard the news of the very last human,” the Clerk says, straightening to his full height. Sun matches him, eye to eye. “They were spotted just a few towns over, in fact! The human escaped.”

Sun grins back, his eyes pale and sharp in the fading evening light.

“I thought it was funny that a human could escape our kind.” The Clerk laughs. The robotic, lifeless sound sends chills down your spine. “But that couldn’t be! We’re all on the same side, aren’t we?”

“Friend, let us pass through,” Sun says cheerfully. From the days you have spent at his side, you catch the one note too high-pitched to his cadence.

Sun clutches you tighter.

The Clerk’s stare pierces through Sun to you.

“I’m afraid, friend, that we can’t let you take the human away again.” The Clerk unlocks his fingers and lifts his arms outwards as if to give an embrace. “Give them up now, and we will forget this little accident happened.”

The Clerk extends a hand, grasping for your wrist, only to be met with a heavy hand from your protector’s hand. The scrap of silicon against metal echoes. The Clerk whirls back hard, barely catching himself on his back foot before an electronically-charge rumble tears through all the AI.

Your protector holds out his arms like a shield. His yellow hues are intero cut with blue, and a hat pops out along half of his sun rays. His optics are caught, half pale, half burning red with a warning. 

Eclipse.

“You will not lay a finger on my human.” His stance is locked and braced for conflict.

You lift your head high—no use in hiding yourself now. Eclipse’s radiating determination seeps into you, and you brace yourself. Sometimes, the only way out is through. Your pulse rams through your veins steadily as you give the taser a pulse of power and a sharp bzzt rings out. 

“Get them,” the Clerk announces. He lunges once again. Eclipse meets him, fist to fist, and begins thrashing to overturn the other. The strain of metallic joints and stressed silicon scrapes your eardrums.

Cotton fills your mouth. His name catches on your tongue, but all too quickly, a nanny-dressed animatronic with a pink apron steps up to your flank. Grasping fingers, steak in dried blood nags your backpack strap. Yanking you off balance, the animatronic drags you closer. You twist around to jam the taser into its side. The AI seizures violently. Releasing you, it stumbles back before dropping. You fall, scraping your elbows on the dark pavement.

You clench your fists. Ignoring the sting of flesh along your arms, you turn your head back to your companion. Eclipse manages to toss the Clerk by sweeping a supporting leg out from under him and shoving him into an approaching surveillance animatronic. 

Commands to halt and give up the human echo. Eclipse steps back to guard you, his head on a swivel while you furiously try to get your feet back underneath you. To your left, a rock is flung by an animatronic, and Eclipse just barely manages to duck below its arc. 

A cold hand seizes your ankle. You gasp. Turning around on the ground, you gaze up at an animatronic looming over you, and with a powerful yank, it pulls you underneath it. You wave the taser but one of its hands catches your wrist and pins it above your head. The other hand, its face pale and lifeless, reaches for your throat.

“Eclipse!” you scream.

A jingling of a bell from Eclipse’s slipper rings before the Daycare Attendant’s foot connects with the animatronic’s faceplate. In a comical spin of its casting, its covering flies off, revealing the endoskeleton underneath. Metallic teeth are bare at you. A garbled growl rips through it before you manage to free your taser in its stunned fury and jab it into its neck. 

The AI’s body rattles as if it touched the wire of an electric pole. Before it can collapse on top of you, Eclipse scoops up its body and flings away. 

You blink. You gasp breathlessly.

That was too close.

Eclipse firmly but gently takes your arm and lifts you to your feet. The moment the soles of your shoes find purchase, you utter a thank you. Your partner’s hands disappear—ripped away. A disjointed and broken screech of static follows.

You twist back and freeze. The Clerk’s hand wraps around Eclipse’s spindly neck and the other pries at his chest plate. Silver digits hook onto the buttons of his chest. Your heart lurches before you shout.

“Let go of him!”

The Clerk lifts its head, eyes pulsing low and violet. 

Eclipse fights with his grip. His focus drops to the hand attempting to pop off his head but you leap forward. The Daycare Attendant’s eyes widen as the taser in your hand charges forward, and you stick the barbs directly into the Clerk’s face over his shoulder.

A ripple of sparks and voltage takes over the Clerk, and his hands drop from Eclipse immediately. Whirling back, Eclipse knocks down the Clerk with a blow to the head. The animatronic falls limply.

The wide, burning gaze of your companion falls back upon you. 

“Run. Now.”

You heed his command—as you always have. You take off down the street. A few grasping hands snag your clothes or backpack, but you rip yourself free or hear Eclipse break a robotic arm with a snap, and continue at a breakneck speed. 

There is no thought. Just Eclipse’s voice over your shoulder. He follows you like a shadow through the fading daylight. The shadows sweep higher and higher. Robotic voices shout commands behind you, but you neither turn your head nor slow until Eclipse directs you to a building. You scramble inside. Once a clothing store, its deadly quiet atmosphere plunges an ice-cold sensation into the pit of your stomach.

“Roof,” Eclipse commands. You scramble towards the stairway tucked into the back without hesitation.

The world blurs. Eclipse rips open the door in a screech of metal. Without a word, he throws you onto your back as you hear an echo of a door opening far below, then metallic footsteps trudging through the racks of clothing. 

“Hold tight,” he orders.

You clamp your arms around his neck in a method that would choke out a human, and suck in a deep breath. Eclipse stares down the opposite building. A five-foot gap stretches between the two roofs. 

He charges. You cling tight to him, muttering his name in a prayer. Your heart stops as he leaps, and the air sails around you.

He lands with a slight wobble, wrapping a hand around you for a brief moment, as if ensuring you’re still there, and takes off again.

Into the opposite building, Eclipse descends and locates a back door. He races out from the main street, and into a wooded area surrounding the edges of the town. Your arms grow tense and numb while clinging to him. Tirelessly, Eclipse runs into a field, finding an animal shed. Small but inconspicuous, he slides open the wooden door. The scent of dust and hay tickles your nose.

It’s not ideal, but it’s hidden, and safe. Eclipse silently unlocks your death grip around his neck and lowers you to the ground. Your butt plops directly into a gathering of old hay. Eclipse kneels over you, his head high and his eyes seeping over the small shed. 

For several long minutes, neither of you speaks. You simply stare at Eclipse, your hand still clutching the taser tight in your grasp. 

The last of the light falls. Your fingers are numb. Eclipse looks down at you.

“You were reckless,” he says. You don’t need to see his frown to hear it in his voice.

“I protected you,” you mutter, then eye him sharply, “And you did the same for me. Which, you know, is how we’re surviving together.”

He stares at you, crouched low, his frame surrounding you in the cramped quarters of the shed. 

Slowly, he lifts a finger and thumb and strokes your hair lovingly. You look at his hand and think of how he fought off the Clerk and the rest of the AI. His kind. For you, he betrays them all. 

“Moon will take care of you,” he says quietly.

“Bye, Eclipse,” you murmur. You touch his hand as you watch the yellow begin to fade into a deep blue.

The darkness of the night becomes heavy. Through the lone, dirty window high in the shed, you find the sky giving way to a pitch-blackness. Stars must come out soon, right? There has to be more light in the world.

The Daycare Attendant’s faceplate morphs, spinning one before settling on a crescent silver face, and two low burning, red eyes.

Moon settles before you. He tilts his head. The bell on the end of his nightcap settles over his shoulder, and you reach up to run your fingers down the silky soft fabric patterned with stars.

“Look at you. A natural born fighter,” Moon rasps, his tone warbling with humor. 

You shoot him a look, as if still ready to fight. The adrenaline left over in your veins leaves you with shaking fingers. You try to hide it by curling your hands close to your middle.

Moon chuckles in a low, growling sound. Once terrifying, it’s now a beautiful noise you cling to.

“Next time, my darling nimrod—”

“Hey!”

“—don’t put yourself in danger like that.” 

You cross your arms to better hide your tremors. 

“I did what I had to to keep you guys safe.” You mutter. “You do the same all the time. We’re putting up a heck of a fight.”

Moon’s gaze lingers on you, heavy in the darkness.

“We are,” he agrees, then his finger finds your nose and boops it. You wrinkle your face. “But you are squishy and irreplaceable.”

“You are not replaceable,” you say sharply, then sit up. “Moon. I don’t know what I’d do without you, or Sun or Eclipse…”

It’s too much. The weight of the attack cracks you open, exposing your ribs and heart, and finally, you open your arms in a silent plea. 

His answer is to pull you quickly into his star-stitched lap. You curl up in his embrace, hiding your face against the blue and silver of his chassis. 

“Shush, shush, starlight,” Moon whispers to you. “I won’t let any monsters get you.”

You try to say his name, but a sob leaves your lips instead. He strokes your hair with another calming hum. 

It’s not for you to be afraid. You’re only trying to survive. The Clerk made it clear that should your companion ever be caught smuggling you to safety, they would all pay dearly. They never had to pluck you off the street in your mindless and fruitless wanderings. They didn’t have to help you get out of the city just to make sure you weren’t slaughtered. 

They are all you have.

“We did a lot today,” you find your voice at last.

Moon chuckles. “We do. We should all rest.”

He lowers his head and presses the grin of his faceplate to the top of your head.

“Sleep. We’ll keep you safe,” he vows in a voice overlaid with two others that you know by heart.

You dip your head numbly. Moon’s fingers continue to tenderly stroke your hair until you find some peace at the end of the world. They hold you close.

[bronz3y]

alessia russo x reader - first time

a/n - hiya guyss, ive finally gotten some notivation to write (about fucking time) , ill be doing a couple of asks ive had for a few weeks too, so hopefully writing becomes more frequent from now on

no promises tho :,)

anyways enjoy this smutty alessia fic lol x

summary : r and alessia have been dating for 2 months, and neither of them have been brave enough to iniciate anything more than a steamy makeout, untill a needy alessia decides otherwise.

warnings: a lotta fluffy smut

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and alessia had been officially together for 2 months now, you'd both met through Leah, since your Leah's cousin, you had been invited to her birthday party, you had both exchanged numbers and from that night onwards, you'd texted every day, and eventually you asked her on a coffee date and she responded “took your time, and yes, i'd love too x”

After 4 weeks of going on dates and getting to know each other, a very red Alessia asked you to be her girlfriend while walking on the beach, a gorgeous sunset colouring the sky with oranges, yellows and blues, Alessia's freckled face glowing from the shine of the slowly falling sun, her smile growing as you immediately say yes and wrap your arms around her, her warmness enveloping you.

You felt warm

 you felt safe 

You felt loved

Now 2 months later, you are at Alessia's apartment, you both took turns inviting each other over, one week at Alessia’s, one week at yours, you preferred to stay at Alessia's apartment more, her cosy decor made it feel more homey than yours, and truthfully, you also wanted cuddles from her gorgeous grey cat. You also loved the sweet smell of alessia covering every room, it made you warm inside, her familiar vanilla scent made your heart flutter.

“ pebble!, don't smack me” alessia huffed as her cat swatted her cheek while she walked past her on the sofa, the two of you covered in warm fluffy blankets, your head on her shoulder as you watched some random romcom you found on netflix.

“Maybe she smacked you because you took away her favourite toy” you argued laughing, alessia rolled her eyes at you.

“Baby that toy makes so much noise, we couldn't hear the film” she whined, you laughed and cuddled your face into her neck, pecking it softly, as your lips made contact with the soft skin of her neck a second time, alessia sighed shakily, moving her head back, giving you more space to work with. 

You and Alessia, unlike other couples in a two month relatioship, hadnt had sex yet, sure you both had very intense make outs, but once you both reached a point you just stopped and didn't take it further, it's not that you didn't want to do it with her,you definitely did, it's just you were scared, scared of messing up or embarrassing yourself, youd had your fair share of one night stands, but it had been a while since you had fucked a girl, so naturally youd start to overthink if things got too far and quickly stopped it.

“ y/n..that feels so nice–fuck” Alessia swore as you bit down softly, leaving a red mark on her neck, you soothed it with your warm tongue, leaving shiny residue behind, you leaned back a bit, looking at the cute mark you had left on Alessias pale skin, her hands then found your hips and guided you to sit on her lap, her thumbs stroking the exposed skin from your slightly risen shirt, her head slightly turned away from you, looking at her hands on your waist.

“Lessi?” you said softly, looking at the overwhelmed expression on her face, her eyes avoiding you.

“Baby, talk to me” you tried again, reaching your hand to her jaw, softly pushing it so she would look at you.

“y/n.” she said, finally meeting your eyes, she leaned forward, your faces inches apart, so close that you could smell her minty breath.

“Less?” you whispered, not used to the way she was looking at you, it was something that you'd only seen a couple of times when the kissing got intense.

 Alessia looked hungry.

Alessia then gently grabbed your wrist and moved your hand onto her chest, your eyes widened and you felt a shiver run up your back.

“Touch me, please” alessia whispered, her hooded eyes staring into yours.

You took in a small breath and gave her a small nod, you dragged your shaky hand slowly down her body, from the middle of her chest to where you could feel her pretty abbs under her white shirt, her hard nipples noticeable through the thin fabric.Alessia leaned slightly forward, starting to kiss your exposed shoulder, you collarbone and up you neck, you slightly lifted alessia's shirt, slipping your hand underneath, your cold hands touching her warm skin, you felt her shiver at your touch, smiling to yourself, you moved your hands up once again, placing them under the curve of her breast.

“Fuck, y/n hurry” alessia breathed out, you smirked at her neediness.

“Maybe if you ask nicely” you teased, you heard her let out a huff at your words.

“Please baby i need you, please just touch me” alessia whined, you'd seen alessia needy before, a few times, but this was new, and you loved it.You smiled at her and began lifting her top up slowly.

“Can i?” you whispered, alessia nodded at your words.

“Words baby” you said softly

“Yes, please just take it off” she whined, that was all the confirmation you needed, you started lifting her top up and over her head, tossing it on the floor somewhere. You stared at her chest, her perfect round breasts and perky nipples now exposed to you, sure it's not like you hadn't seen her topless, but having her like this, small puffs of hair leaving her parted lips and her blonde hair a mess, you had never seen something so gorgeous.

You shifted your body slightly lower so your face was in front of her chest, you then planted a kiss on the side of her left breast, Alessia's hand found the back of your head, nudging you slightly forward. You then finally wrapped your lips around her nipple, sucking and licking softly, alessia's back arched, pushing her chest further into your face.

“Oh god” alessia moaned out softly, the hand that wasn't at the back of your head grabbed the pillow behind her.

You disconnected your lips with a pop, you then looked at alessia who was already looking at you, you leaned up and claimed her lips, she tasted like coconut chapstick, like she always did,  alessia then bit down at your lip softly and you let out a small moan, she used that to slide in her tongue, pushing it against yours for dominance over the kiss.

“Lessi, let's move to the bed” you said in between kisses, alessia nodded, you then grabbed the back of her thighs and picked her up, alessia immediately connected your lips again, you smiled against her lips at her eagerness. You easily found your way to your bedroom without looking, you then placed Alessia on the bed and she shuffled backwards, her blue eyes now dark, you followed her and placed yourself on top of her, your legs tangled together.

“I want to see you” alessia whispered, you nodded and took your own top off along with your sports bra, alessia then started scanning your chest.

“You're so beautiful,” she said, lifting a hand up to softly squeeze your right breast, you let out a breathy moan at her warm touch.You then kiss down her body, first her neck, her chest down to her stomach until you get to the waistband of her joggers, you look up at her, softly tugging on it.

“Take it off” she said nodding, you wasted no time, you grab the sides of her bottoms and pull them down her long legs, leaving her in her pretty blue lacey underwear that matched her eyes, you immediately notice the dark damp patch and smirk 

“All this for me?” you say, she whimpers in embarrassment but nods.

You then place a small kiss on where her clit is, Alessia's hands once again grab the back of your head.

“Baby, are you sure you want this?” you said looking up at her.

“Yes, fuck yes, i just need you y/n” she moaned, and with that, you tugged her underwear down, exposing her perfect pussy, neatly shaved, you moaned at the sight of her, you could now see how wet she really was.

“Your pussy is so fucking beautiful” you groaned, slightly opening her legs, her wetness glistening, slowly dripping down the curve of her ass, “can i taste you?” you asked her, looking into her eyes from between her thighs.

“Please” alessia whimpers impatiently, you then glide your tongue over her folds, your eyes connected with hers, taking a slow long lick, savouring her taste.

“You taste so fucking good” you groaned against her, the vibrations causing alessia to moan, you start moving your tongue faster against her, her moans get louder as you increase the speed, your tongue tries dipping inside of her, slightly pushing.

“Fuck baby just like that” alessia moans out, pushing your head further into her.

“y/n, i need more-– fuckkk” you cut her words short as you rub her clit and move your tongue against her entrance.

Alessia lets out a while as you stop your movements, you climb up the bed to meet her beautiful face.

“Wanna taste yourself pretty girl?” you whisper, your face glistening with Alessia's juices and your own saliva, she nodded and you connected your lips, she moaned at the taste of herself.

“I need your fingers” Alessia whispered, her fingers playing with the baby hairs at the back of your neck, you smirk at her boldness and slowly slide your hand between your bodies, you slide two fingers between her folds, moving them up and down, Alessia's head fell back onto the pillow as she felt your long fingers tease her hole.

“Baby, inside, please” alessia whimpered, you then finally slowly pushed in your middle and ring finger, Alessia's nails scratching your back as they slid in with ease, when fully in, you keep them still and look at alessia.

“Are you doing ok love?” you ask, your hand that's not inside her comes up and touches her cheek softly.

“Yeah, just give me a minute” she says, slowly getting used to the feeling of being filled by your fingers for the first time.after a minute she gave you a small nod and you began slowly thrusting your fingers in and out of her, every time your fingers would re enter her she winced, but after a few minutes, her face relaxed, and her mouth parted, letting out pretty noises.

“Fuck y/n, feels so good” alessia whispered, you smiled and bit her earlobe softly.

“Is this what you wanted, baby?, my fingers filling you up?” you teased, adding your thumb onto her clit, rubbing it while still pumping your fingers in and out of her, you then felt her walls start to tighten around your fingers. “Look at you, doing so well for me” you encouraged her.

“Fuck baby, im close” Alessia’s legs wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to her.

“Yeah?, you gonna cum for me?” you replied, pressing harder on her clit, your mouth latched onto her neck.

“Fuck, Faster baby, im so close” alessia whined, you do as she says and move your fingers at a quicker pace, curling them so they would hit her most sensitive spots.

“Right there,right there, don't stop baby '' Alessia shouts, your neighbours won't be too happy with all the noise she's making, but you love it, the way she screams and whimpers for you has you soaked through your joggers. You then feel Alessia’s walls clench around you, she then bites onto your shoulder to contain her moans as she breaks apart on your fingers, you watch her as she flops her head back onto the pillow, her chest heaving and you help her ride out the orgasm.

“Mm baby im sensitive” Alessia whined, you slowly pull out of her and she whimpers at the loss of being filled up. you move yourself from on top of her onto your beck next to her.

“You did so well love, you were amazing” you say, kissing her all over her face, her cheeks flush and she hides her face in the crook of your neck.

Alessia then notices the wet patch on your joggers from the corner of her eye, you then feel her head move slightly forward.

“Baby?, what's all this?”, she teases looking between your legs.

“Not my fault you're so sexy” you groaned and looked away embarrassed

You then feel Alessia move from her spot beside you, she moves her body on top of yours and pins you down on your bed, she moves her knee between your legs and applies pressure.

“I think i should return the favour pretty girl”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

hope u enjoyed this lil cutie petuti fic xxxxx

rember yall, asks are open so pls feel free to make some requests :)

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hey! Hope you’re having a nice day/night!

Can I request Bi-Han, Kuai Liang and Tomas with a healer!reader? Reader is like a witch/ sorceress  who specializes in healing magic while have a soft and gentle personality.

Thanks!

Tomas Vrbada

‘There we go little buddy, your paw is all better now. Just promise me that you’ll be a little more careful next time okay?’ You whispered as you finished up healing the injured paw of a tabby cat you came across when making a trip up to visit Tomas at the Shirai Ryu. You couldn’t bring yourself to just walk past and ignore the pained cries of the cat, so you immediately dropped everything to aid the poor thing back to full health as best as you could.

The orange tabby cat mewls it’s thanks as it then pushed it’s head into your hand as you were scratching it’s chin, closing it’s eyes and purring deeply in content and bringing a warm smile to your face, before boating off down the way you were heading, brushing past Tomas’ pant leg in the process. Your smile widened upon seeing the him as you quickly hauled yourself off the ground, dusting yourself down of dust and dirt before addressing the man who was smiling at you fondly.

‘How long have you been watching me?’ You asked softly.

‘Long enough to see you contemplating in bringing home a stray cat.’ Tomas teased upon seeing your flustered face.

If there was one thing Tomas adored most about you was your kindness and your willingness to help others in need. It was actually one of the many things that had drew him to you, along with how soft and gentle you were when tending to his wounds upon your first meeting. Needless to say from that day onwards you were constantly on Tomas’ mind.

‘I wasn’t going to…’ you murmured under your breath, distracting yourself from staring at his handsome face by fiddling with your fingers. ‘I came here to visit you but if I’m going to get teased like this then I’ll just leave.’ You huffed but Tomas was quick to step into view with a wide smile on his face as his hand reached for one of your own to hold, before beginning to pull you along with him towards the direction of the Shirai Ryu. ‘No need to make rash decisions now sweetheart.’ Tomas said, feeling beyond ecstatic in getting the opportunity to spend the rest of his day with you after a less then desired morning.

Your presence made him feel as though everything was alright and Tomas knew that he would be an utter fool to not take advantage of getting to coo at the inherent cuteness of a pair of blue jays cuddling up to one another, whilst doing exactly the same thing. Being within your company healed Tomas’ soul and he couldn’t help but be thankful for you entering his life, for it was a gift he wasn’t going to throw away anytime soon.

Kuai Liang

‘It’s only a scratch my beloved, nothing you should waste your efforts on.’ Kuai Liang tried to reason with you as you healed the last of his wounds from his previous mission. Thankfully it wasn’t anything too serious, just a couple of gashes and several small cuts and bruises littering his face, however that didn’t change the fact that you never liked when Kuai Liang came home with any form of injury. You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. ‘Well there not your decision to make Kuai Liang. You were hurt and I just so happen to have the ability to heal you of your hurt, so let me use my magic for it’s intended purpose.’ You rebutted.

‘I understand that sweetheart.’ Kuai Liang utters as he holds your hands within his own, thumbs stroking the inside of your wrists. ‘And I’m not trying to change that in anyway, it’s just that I don’t want you wasting energy on low scale injuries.’ Kuai Liang’s tender smile then became a frown as he continued to speak. ‘Whilst it’s admirable that you want to treat every possible injury. I just fear that there will be the day where you’re forced to make a harsh decision that you aren’t ready to make just yet.’

You smiled at Kuai Liang’s concern as you rest your forehead against his. ‘I’m aware of the fact that I can’t heal everyone, at least not yet.’ Your face sobered up upon a particular memory. ‘I have faced moments in my life where I’ve had my hand forced to making the hard call on who could and couldn’t be saved because of my limitations. It breaks my heart knowing I can’t heal everyone, I’ve heard it all before from everyone about how my dream is unrealistic.’

Kuai Liang tightened his grip on your hands reassuringly. ‘How do you power through all that grief and scrutiny my heart?’ He asked, genuinely wanted to know how such a sweet and gentle soul like yours could remain that way despite everything you’ve witnessed. You only smiled before shrugging. ‘I strive to become the impossible and learn from my shortcomings. I will try to heal everyone and if that fails then I’ll heal those to make up for the ones that I couldn’t.’

Kuai Liang couldn’t help but find your reasonings admirable and felt pride at the fact that despite everything you’ve seen and done, you were still blessed with your harmonious soul, your golden heart and healing hands. It truly was a testament to your strength, love and durability and Kuai Liang knew that you were destined to becoming the impossible, and so he’ll help in anyway he knows how because if there was anyone who could do it. It was you and Kuai Liang firmly believed that.

Bi-Han

‘Bi-Han, you’re hurt.’ We’re the first words the left your mouth upon seeing him outside your door, clutching at his side that was obviously the biggest cause of his discomfort. ‘Why aren’t you getting examined by the medics,’ you began to question. ‘Why come here when you’re obviously in great pain?’ Your eyes followed after him as he only offered a grunt in response before bypassing you and entering the room, heading towards the bed where he struggled to find a more comfortable way to sit down that didn’t agitate the wound.

‘Enough with the questions.’ Bi-Han growled through gritted teeth, his eyes clenched shut as he tried to block out the pain.

‘At least tell me why you didn’t go for a proper medical examination?’ You pleaded as you made your way to his side, immediately starting to examine the severity of his wound, but from what you can determine so far was that the wound wasn’t that deep; however it was still enough of an problem to cause issues with performing basic level tasks. ‘You have possibly the best of the medics within their field down there and yet you come here instead and force me to watch you writhe in pain?’

‘Does it even matter if I happen to put more trust in you to heal me then those medics you happen to speak so highly of.’ Bi-Han stated, taking you off guard with his sudden appraisal.

‘You trust me?’ You asked, meekly gesturing to yourself.

‘Yes, why do you think that every time i get injured I always happen to come here.’ Bi-Han said, staring at you as you recalled the moments where Bi-Han would come to your room with a new injury for almost every mission he went on. It was so obvious to recognised the pattern now compared to back then, but none of that mattered as you reminded yourself of the fact that Bi-Han was very much lying on your bed in pain.

You put on a professional front as you helped put Bi-Han into a more comfortable position. ‘Alright, now let’s see what we’re working with here.’ You said to yourself, fuelled by your need to meet to prove to Bi-Han that he was right to place his truth within you. Meanwhile Bi-Han in question could only watch you work your magic -no pun intended- with a neutral expression but within his dark eyes, besides flickers of pain, was a sense of pride. Bi-Han knew he was right to have trusted you long ago with nursing his wounds and even though he wouldn’t verbally admit it, he felt safer within your care and knew that if he showed an ounce of emotion unbecoming of a Grandmaster; you would never view him any differently nor speak of it to anyone outside of this room, which was probably the main reason why he entrusted you to heal him.

Trust was something Bi-Han didn’t give out willingly and neither did he just to just anyone. So to be blessed with the knowledge that Bi-Han trusted you to help him in his most vulnerable state, there was no need for any further clarification for Bi-Han often spoke his loudest through his actions. So when you finally finished healing him, all he did was give you a silent look of recognition of your efforts, before reaching out for your hands to then press two separate kisses to the palms of your hands of where your magic lies within to show his appreciation for your gift.

‘It was nothing.’ You’d then say, still not use to having so much of his undivided attention.

‘It’s more than nothing.’ Bi-Han said, ‘you deserve every ounce of recognition for what you do. It’s a gift, don’t waste it.’ He concluded before leaving your room.

[dancermk]

I’m a little disappointed to see so much discourse, fandom competitiveness, and plain arguing going around at the moment in regards to queer film/TV. People complaining about too much sex, not enough sex, too cheesy, made for the hets, too happy, too sad, too realistic, too unrealistic, and a million other petty issues. I, for one, am a queer person in my 50s and I grew up with practically zero representation! Yes, we want to continue onwards and upwards with quality and varied shows BUT let’s be HAPPY we now have representation! Like, actual shows where the central characters are queer, not just a side character who gets f*cking murdered! There is room for all different types of representation - so enjoy the types you like, and let others enjoy what they like.

And on a side note: progress is progress and film/tv is a business that has to turn a profit! If some queer content is made to appeal to the straight community, and will also act as a means of reducing homophobia and increasing understanding, then that’s a good thing. That means in the future more and more content will include queer stories and representation. If only 10% (ish) of the population is the maximum target audience then shows won’t keep getting made!

There is a huge backlash all over the world right now - a “push back” by conservatives and religious groups that want to wind back the clock, and specifically the last decade of advances.

So stick together queers and LGBTQIA+ allies.

I’m super happy knowing I don’t have to wait years between content anymore. And I’ve loved all different types of shows over the last 5 years, for lots of different reasons!

Interview with the Vampire - is giving me the toxic, passionate gothic love affair I’ve always wanted. And addressing interracial relationships.

Heartstopper - is filling me up with pure joy and hopefulness for the future.

Shameless - gave me Ian and Mickey - unique, anti stereotypical gays with a tragic yet ultimately beautiful love story spanning 11 years

Lone Star 911 - is giving me TK and Carlos whose sexuality barely factors into the storyline! Yay!

Looking - gave me an authentic queer experience and an intoxicating love triangle.

Red, white and Royal Blue - gave me a sweet, cute romcom that allowed reality to be sidelined. Fun escapism!

Young Royals - had me captivated by first love and intense angst.

Fire Island - an underrated romcom that made me laugh so hard I cried.

Sex education - shoved the realities of sex in our faces and provided me with laughter and drama and a range of queer identities.

Gentlemen Jack -gave me historical lesbians with spectacular wit, and feminine power.

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg- because there’s SO SO SO many more shows I could mention! Don’t at me because I didn’t mention YOUR favourite. This is my point! There is SO much great content it would take all day for me to include everything. This is just a sample - and that’s f*cking brilliant!!

So maybe we could all start posting/tweeting etc about what WE DO LIKE / LOVE / MAKES US FEEL LOVED AND SEEN and put down the device if we’ve got nothing nice to say.

Sending everyone a love filled week! 💜

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 18

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n thanks again for 1k followers! also, taglists are sort of working again, if you're someone that only comes here when you get a tag, you've probably missed a few chapters

previous | masterlist | next

---

The airport is a crush of bodies and phones and flashing cameras, staring you down as you follow Seungmin's back through the glass doors and try not to stutter under the weight of so many eyes on you at once.

It happens fast and yet also so very, very slow, every second dripping past so discernibly that you swear you can feel time moving around you. Every breath hitches in your lungs as you walk, every blink of your eyes blinded by the halogen lights overhead or the lense of another camera, searching for the face a manager has tried to hide for you under cap and hood and mask. The clothing is hot and stifling, the collar of your shirt suffocating where it is tucked into the black hoodie, the ends of your hair scratching at the back of your neck, but you're too scared to pull it down or to even look up, your eyes fixed on Seungmin's heels and the tails of the loose shirt he's pulled on just for this walk through the line of fire.

You'd looked for Chan when you'd gotten out of the car, gravitating naturally towards the leader (the one that had defended you online, the one that could look you in the eyes and tell you the truth and went out of his way to prove it the moment he had an opportunity), but he'd fallen back and you'd been steered towards the centre of the group, sticking to Seungmin's side instead. Seungmin was dependable too, like Changbin; unafraid of the crowds that pushed and pulled at each other and tried to lean in close as security shove their way through, and fiercely loyal when the situation called for it.

Seungmin doesn't look back though. He doesn't have time, when the hands to either side are reaching for him just as much as they do to shove you, when hired bodies keep nearly separating you as they move in circles around you, carrying out their job. You're not sure how you could feel so small and alone in such a large crowd of people, seen by so many eyes, but for a moment you do, and then-

An arm lands across the back of your neck, a hand resting casually over your shoulder, pulling you into someone's side. Felix, recogniseable by the soft blue jumper he's wearing and the blonde hair that pokes out from underneath his beanie. You have a feeling he's not supposed to do it, from the wicked gleam in his eye when he glances at you and the way that he marches onward, feet placed deliberately beside yours as if to challenge anyone to tear him away, but you can't find it in yourself to make an excuse and pull back, to walk on your own two feet. 

You were scared, after all; you are scared, even with the reassurance of the weight of his arm around your shoulders and the angle of his body blocking some of the cameras that angle and click and glare at you like if they stare hard enough, you might freely divulge your secrets. You've never seen a crowd like this before, so close and so...mob-like, uncontrolled and ready to roll over each other if it means getting their two seconds of fame, their photo that's unlike any other.

"I get scared too sometimes," Felix says, close enough to your ear that you can hear him over the mayhem. "Just keep walking. The faster we get there, the quicker it'll be over."

"Thanks, Felix," you say in return, but you don't think he can hear you over the crowd. 

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids

@hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts

@puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night

@d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk

@minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification

@starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace

@amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002

@hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff

@splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit

@jabmastersupriseee @kayleefriedchicken @hynjinswrld @duhgurl @cheshireshiya

@keepswingin

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Pretty like the wind

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n the twelfth part! Would you look at that. Thank you for all the love as always. ✨🤍

warnings: kids, Illyrian camp brutality, deaths, killing, blood, trauma, knifes, I think that's all...

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Azriel dug his head into his palms as a twinge of pain shot through his eyes. The feeling wasn't foreign. Rhys had once lost control of his mental powers. Had nearly melted Azriel's brain in the process. So the spymaster knew that you were deep within his brain in some way. But then, it also felt different. A metallic smell filled his nostrils. Azriel slowly forced his eyes open, gasping at the sight in front of him.

There was no snow. No wind. No broken houses. A run-down camp. The place was full of greenery. The sun was shining. Once the ringing in his ears settled, Azriel could hear children laughing. The sound of swords clashing. You stood a couple of steps ahead of Azriel, watching, unmoving. Azriel strode forward, reaching out to you, but before he could, you pivoted to face him. "Come, I would like you to meet someone", you muttered, stepping onward.

Azriel heeded suit. Eyes darting all around the place. "How well do you know the Illyrian history?", you questioned. Azriel shrugged his shoulders. "Well, it depends on...", but he didn't get to finish the sentence before you spoke again, "While Rhysand's father ruled, not all camps belonged to him. Most lords had rights to...", "Have their laws, run their camps without high lord interference", Azriel finished, earning a nod from you.

"Ever heard of Lord Filick?", you rounded the corner swiftly, making no sound as you moved. "North camps?", Azriel questioned. If he was being honest, the political aspect of the camps was misty and unclear at that time. No direct laws were made. It was rather brutal. Power was the thing that ran them. That made men hungry. To operate a camp meant having a spot next to the high lord at the council.

You reached for the wooden door, pushing against it. "Shouldn't we knock?", Azriel called out, yet you didn't look back. The spymaster quickly had to remind himself that this all wasn't real. At least not at present. "He had a wife and a daughter", you muttered right as a tall female strolled through the back door. Her beauty seemed unmatched. It was like nothing Azriel had seen before.

"I don't understand...", Azriel breathed out right as the same door you two just walked through opened and a girl ran towards the female. Cries filled the room, but that was not the thing that had captured Azriel's attention. "The wings, they...", the spymaster muttered, stepping forward as if to get a better look. "Feathered. She was from the day court. One of Helion's angels", you said as if it were nothing. The most basic knowledge anyone could possess, Azriel was about to question it, but the sound of the girl weeping stopped him.

"They said that it's our fault... that...", the girl sobbed in what Azriel presumed was her mother's embrace. "Will they hurt us?", she muttered, yet the female only smiled down at her. "No, papa will never let anything happen to any of us". Azriel's breath hitched once again when he finally saw the girl's face. She looked awfully like you. The only difference was the dark Illyrian hair and the golden eyes. She resembled Zofie more. Only some features were more tailored to you.

"That, unfortunately, didn't last long", you mumbled, snapping your fingers, and the same house was filled with Illyrian soldiers pushing stuff over and shouting filthy insults. Azriel reached for his daggers. The instinct to protect growing stronger. But it all moved too quickly. Two males had the female pinned against the wall. One swift movement and the sound of breaking bones were the only audible sounds.

"What the fuck is this?", Azriel called out, his hand reaching for your shoulder, but the image changed once more. Azriel stumbled slightly as you brought him to that same strange cube. Just this time, Azriel could tell that it was a cell. An outside cell. That same girl sat curled up at the corner of it. People were walking by, laughing. Some even stopped to thread flowers through the bars. Azriel let out a growl. "Why is no one helping her?", his fingers moved to wrap around the metal bars, but they slipped right through them.

"She wasn't just an Illyrian. She was more like you; she had special powers", you stepped ahead, kneeling in front of the girl. Her shivering frame, flinching, "Back then, they thought it was a curse, an anomaly. Illyrian blood had to be clean, so...", you stood up, backing away, "Purified it had to be". Azriel shook his head, "What do you mean? Y/N, what is all of this?".

But the vision pivoted once more. The whole camp was gathered in a circle. People were shouting. Azriel scowled, trying to look for you. Sobs filled the place. Everyone parted as two males dragged the tied-up girl up the wooden altar. "No", Azriel breathed, but this time, as he tried to move, the bodies were blocking his way. Every inch he gained, someone would push him right back.

"Please, papa", the girl sobbed, trashing in the males' arms, but no one seemed to listen; no one seemed to hear her. "What a generous man, Lord Filick is," a loud male voice boomed. "He brought his daughter here so we could finally show you all that the only way we can rid our females of this cruel fate", he said, stepping towards the girl, grasping her chin between his fingers, "Is by leaving them wingless".

Azriel tore the bodies to the sides as he stepped forward. He had to get to her. Had to. Her eyes. Her being itself spoke to him. Called him. "No, please", the girl wept, right as the males pulled heated blades out of the fire. "Papa, tell them; tell them it's not true", she sobbed. Azriel let out a roar as he tore through the never-ending mass. But with one sharp thrust, the main boning of her wings was broken in two.

The place went static for a moment. As if all the air got sucked out. As if it had all frozen in time. And then a scream like no other shattered the silence. More powerful than the last notes of the siren's song as they drag the last bits of the sailors' souls out of their bodies. It was all followed by an eruption of light that drowned out the whole place. Azriel dipped quickly, shielding his eyes. He wasn't sure how long it had lasted. He wasn't sure of anything as the ringing continued in his ears, but he still glimpsed up. Up at the altar, his knees bucked.

There was no girl. No girl that Azriel saw beforhand. In the girl's place, kneeled you. Skin as pale as the snow, and hair is the shade of the cracked ice itself. Blood was dripping from every possible part of you. Eyes. Ears. Nose. Lips. Fingertips. Your body swayed before it hit the altar. You met the same fate as the endless sea of fallen bodies around you. Like the shattered windows. Broken roofs. Azriel wanted to crawl to you, but he couldn't bring himself to move. Couldn't climb the stairs.

"Show me how Rhys found you. Show me what he saw", he said, hoping that you could hear him. "No", you breathed out, and Azriel felt your palm on his shoulders. He reached for your wrists, dragging them towards his chest. "Show me", he said through gritted teeth.

A quiet sob fell from your lips, and within a blink of an eye, Azriel was right in front of your broken body. The snow had covered most of it, yet not even the snowflakes could hide the sea of red that drowned the place. Azriel heard the flapping of the wings first. Then there was the sound of boots hitting the fresh snow. Then curses. And then Rhysand was right on the opposite side of him. Big, purple eyes looking down at the broken girl. "Mother above", he breathed, his veins growing dark as he moved to touch her, drinking in her pain. "Help, I need help", Rhysand shouted out before he moved to brush away the snow, fingers reaching for the pulse points. "Hey, hey", the future high lord called out. "I'm Rhysand; I've got you; no one will hurt you-," but the image blurred quickly. Azriel tried to grasp the words that Rhys spoke, but it was for nothing. The cold wind nibbled at his skin once more. His vision cleared, and the same gloomy sky returned.

Azriel let out a labored breath, briskly moving on to his feat. "Y/N", he breathed out. He had to see you. Had to touch you. Had to feel your heartbeat. He looked around the run-down camp. His senses found your swaying body instantly. There was blood running down your nose. Tears were staining your cheeks. Azriel moved faster than the wind. His strong arms wrapped around your body. Your head lulled back, and Azriel carefully guided it toward his chest. "I've got you, my love", Azriel breathed, his lips pressing against your forehead. He gave the place a final look. Cursing it in all the ways he could, before he winnowed away.

The darkness that pulled you under wasn't comfortable. Cold and sticky. Suffocating and claustrophobic. And then the screaming began. Like it always did, you found yourself jerking upwards, grasping around yourself. A cold sweat dripping down your face. "You're okay", a voice from beside you called, making you jump once more as you turned your head to the side. Azriel had his arms up, making sure you could see that they were empty. "It's okay; you're safe. We're at my place", the spymaster said softly. But you didn't care as you moved forward, getting yourself free of the sheets. Not caring much that you probably looked like a manic as you crawled towards him. Hands grasping for his chest and then neck as you hugged him, your heart beating heavily.

Azriel met you halfway, arms and wings caging you instantly. "I'm so sorry", you muttered time after time, your eyes filling up with tears. "What are you sorry for, my love? You've done nothing wrong", Azriel carefully ran his hand through your hair, twirling the very ends between his fingers. The image of your black hair flashing in front of his eyes. The deep golden eyes. Yet, no matter how much he thought about it, how he hated the change at first. How angry he was that these features had been taken away from you. Azriel couldn't seem to imagine you any different than what you looked like now.

"I didn't want to think of it... I didn't want to go back", you said through the tears that Azriel no longer mangled to keep at bay. "I don't hate you for keeping this to yourself. I only hate the people who put you through it", Azriel said softly, pulling you even closer. "When I saw how you reacted after you saw Zofie's back, I...", another hiccup pierced your chest, and your hand came up to cover your mouth. Azriel's heart ached at the sight of it. Of you choosing to keep this from him for his own good.

All the doubt. The dips in trust. Withdrawals from him. All of it suddenly made sense. You were scared. Given up by a man who was meant to protect you. A man who did not deserve to be called your father. What father would do that to his child? His father did... Azriel shook his head, pushing all of those thoughts away as he slowly swayed you from side to side. "I'd handle hell itself for you, love. I'll bargain with the devil if it means that you would never have to go through anything like that again", he said firmly. You pulled back slightly. "Don't say such things", you breathed, shaking your head.

But Azriel shook his in return, reaching for your hand and placing it upon his chest. "My heart was frozen over before I met you", he muttered. "Now I finally got my warmth back and I'm more than ready to fight for it", "Oh, Azriel...", you closed your eyes as yet another wave of tears came rushing down your cheeks. "Look at me", Azriel spoke softly, tilting your head ever so slightly before brushing both of his thumbs beneath your eyes. "You'll never have to feel scared and unseen ever again; do you hear me?", the spymaster spoke in his soldier-like tone.

Azriel reached for both of your palms, pulling them both to his lips before kissing each of them. A light frown creased his brows. "Why are there still wounds on your palms?", he asked, looking at your hands worriedly. You lowered your gaze. All you wanted was to pull your hands back, but you didn't have it in you to lie anymore. "I'm scared to summon my magic, so this is my excuse". Azriel said nothing for a moment before you felt him carefully cupping your hands. "Do it now; I'll be with you", he muttered. "No, Azriel, I can't... It's...", you breathed out quickly, big eyes looking up at him. "I'm not rushing you, but I know that you can do it, and I think that you should", he said softly, searching your eyes. You blinked up at him a couple of times. Taking a deep breath before you fisted your palms, trying to pull that magic from deep within, feeling it fighting against your reach. That's when you felt Azriel's face right by your neck, his breath tickling your skin. His warmth surrounded your whole body. He slowly unclenched your palms, smiling at the smooth skin that greeted him.

"That's my girl", he muttered, brushing his lips against your cheek. "Now summon your light, love. Show me how you shine", Azriel sensed how tense your body got at the mention of it, so he quickly moved his hands up and down your arms, "I'll meet you right in the middle with my darkness", Azriel smiled down at you after gently brushing his lips over your shoulder, and no matter the pain deep within you, you found yourself smiling back.

"Who suggested you go up to the camps?", Rhys asked, fingers clasped right in front of him. "Well, Padme was the one who created the troops", you breathed out. The meeting was long overdue. The boys had been working for days over this. And you knew that Rhys counted himself responsible for what had happened. As he always did. "She stepped up right after I got taken under the mountain?", the high lord asked. Much had changed when Amarantha came about. There wasn't a part of Velaris that didn't feel it. You nodded. "The priest died suddenly. She was the only one willing to take his seat", you said in return, feeling Azriel's hand running up and down your back softly. Not that it was hard for him to touch you considering that you were sitting on his lap, even if there was a separate chair just for you.

"Tell me that you all are thinking what I'm thinking", Cassian breathed, pushing away from the wall. Rhys shook his head. "What are we thinking?", you asked softly, turning from Cassian to Azriel, who looked like he was ready to slaughter a whole village. "The books looked legit; there was not a single thing that raised suspicions", Rhys said through gritted teeth as he pointed at Azriel. The two no doubt decided to keep some part of the conversation to themselves.

"How is your and Padme's relationship like?", Cassian brought your attention back from the two males having a staring competition. "It's okay... She just... Well, there are rules", you muttered. "Bullshit", Azriel breathed, "Love, be honest with us". Azriel didn't want to push you, but it was his family that was concerned. "Axel told me that she's not happy because you kept them", Azriel muttered, making a breath hitch in your throat. You had never talked about it with anyone. This was your burden to bear. "This has nothing to do with this", you said, shaking your head, but Azriel didn't back away. "You got upset after I dropped you off at the sanctuary. What did she say to you?", and here it was, right in the bull's eye. Your eyes glassed over. Nails digging into your palms. You felt Azriel from within you, soothing and tugging at the golden thread that bonded you.

"This is not an interrogation, Y/N", Rhys said softly, "We want you and the kids safe, and right now, anyone who has ever wished you anything bad should fall under our radar". You met the high lord's eyes over the table. A man who was close to a brother. "She does want to take the kids away from me, and...", you took a deep breath in. Knowing that your next words will sway the whole room, "She called me a sacrifice lamb and that Azriel won't get to save...", but before you could finish, Azriel stood up, making you stumble as you found your footing. "Azriel...", you muttered, trying to reach for him, but he didn't spare you a second glance as he winnowed, Rhys following suit. "No", you breathed out. "Take me to him", you said, turning to Cassian, clinging to his arms. The male-only gave you an apologetic look. "Rhys will take care of him", he said softly. "Come on, let me walk you to the kids", Cassian offered you his hand, "They were painting in Feyre's gallery".

You had watched them paint. Watched Nesta chase Cassian down the corridor with a paint bucket in her hands. Watched Nyx ask Zofie to sit on the chair so he could try and paint her. You took cup after cup of tea from Feyre's hands, but nothing soothed you. Nothing felt right. The worry never died. Don't do anything stupid, please. You muttered into the bond. Please, Azriel, just come back this one time. You felt it echo. Silence. Nothing. Until a light tug from the other side, a light cares reached out for you. Ask Cassian to take you all to my place.

The smell of Azriel that lingered in his place soothed the ache in your chest. The kids looked at the place from the side of you. Curious eyes were soaking up every little detail. "Oh, wow, knives,", Axel breathed instantly, stepping to the big shelf full of weapons, but you swiftly caught him by his shoulder. "Not really baby-proof, is it?", Cassian chuckled from beside you. You shot him a smile, but it was Axel who crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Cassian. "I ain't no baby; Az taught me how to fight with wooden swords". Cassian raised his hands defensively and said, "Shaking in my boots, an oh great soldier, don't come for an old man like me".

You felt Zofie tugging at your skirt, no doubt sensing the shift in energy around the place. "Will he be here tonight so we could all sleep together?", she rubbed her eyes, her head resting on your shoulder. "Azriel had to go somewhere with the high lord, but he will come; you won't sleep alone, darling", you brushed your hand through her hair, swaying her slightly. "I'll help you settle in", Cassian offered, and you were about to say no, but he beat you to it, "Azriel will sit me down on a wooden beam, so please".

You were glad that the spymaster's floor was covered in books, giving the kids quite an energy-consuming activity as they not only flipped through them but also organized them into piles that mostly made sense to them. You only hoped that this wouldn't cause more work for Azriel. After the second pile was completed, Zofie crawled onto your lap as sleep finally took over her tiny body, which looked even smaller now that she was wearing one of Azriel's shirts. Axel followed suit, defeated by pile number five, and dozed off on the rug, not even bothering to reach for a pillow.

And here you found yourself, thinking how much everything had changed. The moment Rhys showed up with an unconscious spymaster, you had no idea where fate would take you two. And now you cannot imagine how your life could go on without him. How the kids would go on without him. You didn't want to go on without him. Not after letting him into the deepest parts of yourself. And in the quiet living room, you let yourself wonder about how you both could watch Axel and Zofie grow up. Maybe, just maybe, you could find yourself again.

Azriel didn't listen to Rhys's demand to come back to the lake house first. He knew the conversation would have to follow suit, but it sure wasn't going to happen tonight. And if his high lord wanted to pick a fight with a man who was in desperate need of going back to his woman and kids, he sure was going to meet a monster he had never met before. Another thought struck Azriel. Never had he come back to his apartment and felt so much calmness and joy. Sure, he was pissed that Cassian hadn't demanded that you rest in bed, but the sight of you three sprawled out on his fluffy carpet was a sight Azriel could get used to. He softly pulled at the bond, not wanting to wake you up with a jolt. Too many demons had been let loose in the past couple of days.

"Azriel", you muttered softly, and the spymaster smiled at you lovingly, caressing your cheek. "Let me take her", Azriel carefully moved his hands around Zofie's frame, scooping her up in his arms. The girl stirred, her big golden eyes looking up at him. Azriel ran the tip of his finger over her nose and brows, trying to soothe her back into slumber. "Azzy", the girl murmured, grasping for him blindly. "I'm with you, little star", he said, rocking her gently as he walked towards his mattress. Zofie let out an unsatisfied sigh at the loss of a contract with Azriel once he lowered her onto the plush sheets, tiny fingers grasping at his hands. "I'll be right back; I need to carry Ax here", he breathed out, letting her lighten her grip on her own. In no way did he have the strength to pull his hand away from her by force.

"Cool knives", a sleepy voice sounded from the doorway. Axel stood there, his eyes barely open, with you right behind him, guiding the boy towards the sheets. "Thanks, bud. We can look through them tomorrow", Azriel quickly reached over to tassel the boy's hair, earning a lazy smile. "Does that sound good?", the spymaster quickly asked. Axel nodded, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips as you pulled the blanket over his body. Leaning in to kiss the boy's forehead.

Azriel watched the scene in front of him for a heartbeat. If anyone had told the scared boy in the dark, windowless cell that one day he would be happy, that his heart would be filled with nothing but love. That he would get a chance to create a family, he would never have believed it. But now, looking down at two tiny children slumbering in his bed while you sat on the other side of the bed, Azriel felt so thankful that he didn't give up back then. That he pulled through. And suddenly, the heartache felt worth it. All his mistakes seemed worth it because they led him to you.

"Come here", Azriel gently guided you towards his side of the bed, "I haven't had a chance to properly hold you yet". You reached to cup his cheek, teary eyes looking up at him. His girl. His mate. Azriel never wanted to see you cry again unless it were happy tears. "Tell me you didn't do something silly", you rested your palms against his chest, looking up at him. "Well, I was on my way to burning the place down, maybe...", "Azriel", you gasped, pulling back, but the spymaster only held onto you tighter. "I didn't; Rhys talked me out of it", Azriel breathed, but not without adding, "For now". You let out a gasp, hitting his chest playfully, earning a breathy chuckle from the shadowsinger.

"You can't do careless stuff like that; you have children now", you muttered, your eyes darting toward the bed. Azriel's eyes followed suit, "I do, don't I?" Pride filled his chest at the thought of stepping into a fatherly role for these two. Of having his family. His little world. One he had dreamed of. Begged for. Had even come to terms with never having one.

"You know", Azriel turned back to you, brushing some of the hair away from your face. "One night in the cell, after a beating my father gave me, I crawled towards the crack in the wall, my only window to the outside world", your hands gripped Azriel's leathers tighter. Heart aching at his words. The spymaster brushed his palm over your cheek, and you instantly leaned into his touch as you looked up at him, only to find Azriel's eyes glassy as well. "A light breeze hit my face. I haven't felt the touch of wind for years at that point", Azriel bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his tears at bay for just a bit longer. Just until he pulled these words from the depths of his heart, "So familiar that touch felt, and I knew even back then that one day my mate was going to be as pretty as the wind. Like the wind that called for me that night", the least part felt breathy, and Azriel's voice cracked ever so slightly. All doubts and fears died out. You two had chosen to stand completely bare in front of one another. Deepest wounds on the show. Pain hidden away for centuries was been bleeding out. But neither of you backed away from one another. The uglier it got, the stronger you held one another. "I'll never stop calling out for you", you muttered, stepping on your tippy toes so you could wrap your arms around Azriel's neck. "I want to try this with you. I want to see what being yours looks like", you breathed out right by Azriel's lips. The spymaster pulled you closer to him by your hips like he always did, "Then I'm more than willing to give you my forever".

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Taglist: @naturakaashi @hoemadegrace @just-m-2 @thereadinggremlin @i-am-a-lost-girl16

[christinebloodwrittings]

Die in your arms #2

Alastor x Fem!Reader

Taglist: @littlebluefishtail @maxlynn17 @vxllys @modifiedmonster @sirens-and-moonflowers @qardasngan

Warnings: Smoking, some cursing, tension.

Proofing made by: @littlebluefishtail

November 1913. New Orleans, Louisiana.

Alastor admired the signature changing leaves of Autumn, the shifting colors seemed to him more like an announcement of death’s arrival than a beautiful aspect of nature. And yet, that didn’t discourage him. 

But he felt cold and numb, trapped in a monotonous routine that was no longer comfortable. Having his hands in the warmth of fresh blood was a thrill that partially filled the void in his mind and body, a thrill he would like to have during the day.

He had a hard time remembering how he had started his obsession with watching the sparkle in his victim's eyes fade. He had a hard time remembering why it amused him so much.

How unbearably distasteful. 

He had little time to think about it, given societal rules its ever present watchful eyes scrutinizing his every move. They pushed him against the wall of so-called established social normality, which affected him day by day.

Twenty-four going on twenty-five and no wife, living on the edge of town, never interested in pursuing dates or women. That raised suspicions. 

- Either he’s a homosexual or he’s hiding something- people muttered as they saw him walk.

The first few months working as the charismatic and handsome radio host, he was able to put up with the comments against his skin color, his Creole accent, and his lack of marital companionship, but after two years of work, he began to reach his limit.

Then his boss pops out a question.

"Heartfield, what are you doing for Thanksgiving?” Howard saw Alastor as a hermit, but also as a hard-working and ambitious young man, he had this elegant style attitude, sly and also cunning and good with words. 

Perfect for a woman such as yourself, one that had no filter whatsoever. 

“Nothing special” he admitted, he wasn’t a fan of holidays, not if he had to spend them alone, “How about you come over? My cousin is in town, she’s cooking, and we would like to give our silent dinners some twist” he had to laugh at his awkward comment, it was his boss after all.  

“How could I refuse such an offer? What should I bring?” It would have been rude to decline the invitation, especially if someone was going to go through the trouble of setting an extra place at the table for him, and having the opportunity to have a home-cooked dinner, which he hadn’t had in a long time, was a high benefit even if it came at the expense of a night with his boss. 

“Whatever you want, my cousin will be preparing a lot of things, so bring your appetite.” Alastor thought of the last Thanksgiving he ate turkey, which reminded him he skipped lunch that day, painfully so. “Will do” he limited himself to answer.

Tuesday 18th, Thanksgiving. Alastor woke up strangely excited. He ironed his burgundy suit, polished his shoes, he even styled his hair so he wouldn’t look like he stays out into the late hours, sleepless. 

It is a tradition to fast during the day in order to have some space for the feast, so he had only eaten a slice of bread and a cup of coffee from nine o'clock onwards. He felt nostalgic, excited, depressed and anxious, but perhaps it was the hunger talking, or the fact that he hadn’t spent Thanksgiving at anyone else's house since his mother died.

On the way to his boss's house, he thought about buying a bunch of sunflowers for the table. The wine he was carrying in his hand was already a lovely detail, according to his reasoning, but it would impress his boss, not the company his boss had at home.

"Good afternoon, I am in need of a modest bouquet of flowers" he explained as best he could to the lady at the store, who took pity on his anxious state and made him a mixture of chrysanthemum, marigolds and pansy.

“Right on time, Heartfield” Howard received him, took his coat and hung it on the deer antler rack at the entrance, one he took out from the basement just for the occasion. 

“Please make yourself at home, she should be down any minute, I’ll go check on the turkey” before he went inside the kitchen, Alastor took it upon himself to give him the wine he had bought, pleasing his boss upon eyesight. 

"Ah, Riesling, good choice." Since Howard was a known alcoholic, it was obvious he appreciated the kind gesture. "Thank you, though I think I played it safe," he said, as if he hadn't exactly known what to wear, an ideal humble mask. Of course Howard made sure to point at the bouquet with a mocking grin, "Surely, these are for my cousin?" Alastor examined the roots sticking out of the brown paper wrapping the flowers. 

"Yes, they are," he stated with a moral lump stuck in his throat, according to his upbringing it is good manners to offer flowers, had he done wrong?

"I didn't know you could be so thoughtful." Howard calmed his frayed nerve with a smile and a friendly pat on the shoulder, before retreating to the kitchen, like he stated earlier. 

It would have been rude to run out of the house. Alastor didn’t expect to feel anxious, much less like he was short of breath.

He had unconsciously prepared himself with conversation topics based on the radio show he hosts. 

He had accidentally glued himself to the spot Howard had left him in, a few steps from the entrance. Flowers in hand and undecided about whether to hang his hat on the rack or not.

Hearing footsteps coming from upstairs, he straightened his suit and took off his hat. Looking over his glasses, a silhouette stole time and the ground from beneath his feet.

It was as if he had seen a glimpse from when he was a little boy. His mother, limping downstairs one step at a time, after the accident  that had busted her leg. After adjusting his glasses he saw you, hands gripping on the railing for dear life.

"Y/n take small steps, you're going to hurt yourself" a second voice, soft and motherly, spoke from upstairs, a nurse as he recognized the uniform. 

Y/n, your name rolled again in his mind.

"Rosemary, I swear" your voice was hoarse and broken, making a warning to the nurse that followed you a few steps behind, muttering that you had already fallen once.

"Slipped, I didn't fall" you continued making small efforts to get down, given that you kept stepping on your skirt. 

"Rosemary, one more tone of pity and I will throw myself out the window" Alastor was taken aback by your warning, though it wasn't directed to him, he was amazed by how forward you could be.

The railing was facing the wall, so Alastor mainly watched you struggle down the stairs from your back. 

"Don't you dare, I spent a lot of time stitching you up!" The nurse quietly hissed to you, though Alastor heard her nonetheless. His stomach tightened when he saw you, the rim of the bandages showing off the neck of the dress tying the knot around his organs even tighter.

"I hate this color" you breathed, hand on your rib as you tried to support your weight against the railing. "Yellow is such a happy color" Rosemary tried to get your mood up, "Like jaundice" clearly not working, "That's just the stress talking".

"It's the lack of air, it's too tight" you pulled the bottom hem of the corset out, pinching over your dress, not helping release some of the pressure. "A corset has never killed anyone" Rosemary laughed at your angry quips, knowing you were just nervous and stress-talking nonsense.

"Oh yeah? Make sure they add that to my obituary, big letters, Lungs punctured by ribs because of a damn corset!" Alastor couldn’t help but scoff at your comment, especially after watching you make each word of the imaginary headline with your hands in the air. 

"I will make sure the intonation doesn't go unnoticed when the news gets presented on the radio" he jested, a big smile on his lips. 

 And then you left him paralyzed, cold in place. You looked over your shoulder at the stranger in the doorway, eyes whose anger was untold. He felt as if he were staring down the barrel of a rifle, cornered in the darkness. And yet, excited, alive, expectant.

"Do men also have to wear this type of sh-...stuff?" you bit your tongue and refrained from cursing. "Well, the shoes aren't pillows, and the tie can make a wonderful noose" he was wearing a long tie, just to spice things up. The same he pulled sideways and then up his head. 

Your gaze softened, not much, but to Alastor’s eyes, it was much less menacing. 

"Ever felt tempted?" he knew he had stepped into safe terrain when you joined his joke, "When the coffee machine broke during overtime, yes" and then even safer, when he swore he saw a smile reach your eyes. 

"I would hate to interrupt our chat, dearest, but you're dangerously stepping on your skirt" he pointed to your feet, following your stare down, he offered his hand from a distance, "May I?". 

He didn't move, he offered his help but did not make a single advance from where he was standing. Not until you nodded.

Alastor's hand, unlike yours, was bare. It was a good thing you were wearing leather gloves, since it would have been too much to touch someone else's skin again.

"Thank you...sir" he helped you walk down the rest of the stairs, feeling the faint shake of your muscles. "Alastor Heartfelt, at your service" he made a small bow, "Y/n Desmond" you mimicked his body language, not making a single sudden move. 

Both of you felt like you were dealing with a wild animal. Alastor looked at you carefully and calmly, as if he were facing a pack of wolves. You only saw a man, an enemy, a monster.

"Pleasure to meet you" his voice waivering slightly as he brought your attention to the bouquet, "These are for you, I hope it’s okay, I chose the ones with roots" you let go of his hand to grab the bouquet, that’s when he saw your face for the first time.

You never once looked into Alastor’s eyes for more than two seconds, and since he was taller than you, he had never really looked at your face until that moment. He realized that he never saw you smile, it was a cut on your right cheek that started at the corner of your lips all the way to your cheekbone, a permanent half smile on your face.

Sloppily covered with makeup.

Your eyes turned so big as if they were a child’s, shining and mesmerized with the colors. What a strange change in your demeanor, he thought. 

"Chrysanthemum...thank you" you made room in between him and the stairs so the nurse could come down. A woman in her forties, with a sweet voice and mannerisms. "This is Rosemary, she's...a friend" More than the sweet and motherly treatment she gave you when bandaging you, it was her name the thing you liked the most, since it was that of an herb with a very pleasant aroma.

Alastor offered her a smile and a polite salute, like a true gentleman. 

"Nice to meet you too. Now kids, I'll let you celebrate" Rosemary touched your forearm gently, saying goodbye, under her fingertips she felt your muscle move involuntarily. "Say hi to the kids for me" you knew she had a girl and a boy, she confided that information to you, even after knowing what you did, in hopes to get closer with you. 

"Will do, bye Y/n, nice to meet you Mr. Heartfelt" Rosemary was confident in leaving him with you, because she knew you would make him regret it if he ever touched you inappropriately. 

After she left, there was an awkward silence between you, not an awkward one that makes you feel like you have to say something. But that’s what Alastor turned it into. 

"So...I heard you were cooking tonight" you had prepared everything beforehand, even the pie was ready. "Yes, you can still run away" two steps back, the way you walked away from him, subtle, careful. "How come?" he smiled, shifting his eyes from your feet to your eyes, the cold stare came back. 

"Cooking is not my strongest suit; Howard was extremely paranoid" your tone didn’t match your face, it was playful. "Per usual" he agreed, "Probably, I did wreck the pie by mistaking the sugar for salt, so do yourself a favor and don't bother trying it.” He saw you go, your eyes moving fast and steady, yet hands clutching at the wrapping paper. How odd, he thought.

Playful tone, the defensive body language, menacing stare. The bandages, the cut, gray-ish skin, your retinas partially red. All consistent with abuse, either past or current. It made him wonder about the real reason he was invited to dinner and how he should approach you, or if he should at all. 

During dinner Howard didn't stop talking. It was either about how his business was going, Alastor being the star of his own segment, or his marriage that led to a messy divorce. All under the influence of Riesling and three fingers of whiskey, of course.

When it came time for dessert, Alastor was the first to ignore Howard's warnings and try the pie. "Savory pumpkin pie, it's like a quiche, it's very interesting" all while Howard snorted, half drunk.

"Don't try to be nice to me" a half smile, more mocking than sincere, was all Alastor received in return for his - in his words - flattery.

"Believe me, I'm not even trying, it's really good" for the love of the art of deception, he pretended to be more than just nice, but he smelled a plan, something was about to happen and he was stuck in the calm before the storm.

And speaking of which. After the disaster dessert, Howard invited Alastor to the garden for a smoke. 

A cigar, one of the many things Alastor loathed.. The smell was tolerable - funny enough-, he just wasn’t enthusiastic about the very particular type of men that makes use of said thick chunks of inhalable cancer. 

"So Alastor, I want to go ahead on a business offer" Howard was nowhere drunk enough to have that discussion, but he was determined, and god - and Satan- knows there’s no limit that can stop a drunk man with a mission. 

"Do I get a raise after two years?" Alastor nearly choked on the smoke, - it wasn’t his first time smoking, but it has been a while - making a joke to ease up his bad omen alarm. 

"HA! Good one" well that hurt his pride, you thought observing from the window. His body language shifted -oh so deliciously- violently. You slipped the very first laugh in months. 

"Y/n, does she seem pretty to you? even with the…" It bothered Alastor how his boss made a smiley-hand motion over his lips, then the curvy motion, how vain and fucked up. 

"Due to legal complications, she cannot leave the premises unless she marries or the due time is met" a bowling ball fell on his lungs, Alastor choked and coughed his lungs out. "Legal complications?" he managed to ask, thanks to the crude combination of drinks, Howard was too focused on his own issue to mock him.

"Well, she..." Howard swished his cigar in the air, looking for the right word for it,  "Got caught up in a fight, the police interpreted it as a crazy female insanity moment" and managed to make it sound worse - somehow -.

"Well that was low" you muttered.

“This is beyond inappropriate Howard” he wasn’t wrong.

“I know, but I already had ten other suitors and I can't get a decent man to like her” Howard only then started to get lightheaded, “You two seemed to have good sync back there, so I dunno” he slurred.

And then he shut off, flat on the grass.

“Did he give you the talk?” Alastor didn't have a second to react to his boss's sudden fall when you opened the door.

"He started…I think. What is that about?" you ignored his question, signaling him to take your cousin’s arms as you did his legs, taking his limp body up the stairs and onto his bed. 

"Mr. Heartfelt, if you'd like, you can have the rest of the turkey and forget this ever happened, he won’t remember it either way" as you walked your way downstairs to get his hat and coat, he followed you slowly, being aware of his leg length. 

“Ten suitors? None your type I assume” it was his challenging stance, the tone and how he bit back his lip, he was being a little shit, maybe on purpose. 

“I don’t know what you mean” playing dumb wasn’t your smartest idea, he saw right through that. “How bad did that legal complication of yours end?” 

“Mr.Heartfield” he cut you off, smooth as butter that bastard, “Alastor” you didn’t have many options but to comply, much to his amusement. 

 “Alastor, it was just a monumental misunderstanding, it got fixed, I’m just in house arrest as a precaution, for my safety that’s it” you handed him the pyrex with chunks of turkey inside, hearing him only humm to himself.

“How desperate is he to get rid of you?” very, the moment he read about the mobsters he wanted to kick you out. “He hates family drama, and thinks an unmarried woman of my age is a bad omen”.

“We seem to be in luck” he paced, the same four calculated steps, over and over. “How so?” you stepped away, using the living room table as a separation. “May I be frank with you?” he pursed his lips again, “I’ve been in the business for two years. Popularity has its perks, but the stalkers are no laughing matter” yet you laughed. 

“How unfortunate” you dismissed his self-melancholy, “Indeed, I don’t have the luck to be a divorcee like your cousin, I need a wife to keep the peering eyes elsewhere” while humming, you caught sight of his chestnut brown eyes, inspecting your essence down to the very foundation. 

It felt disgusting to be seen like that again. 

“With me on your arm those eyes will look at you repulsed” 

“Better yet.” 

“Wouldn’t that affect your ratings?”

“Not if I play this right” he smiled. 

He thought you were a game? You could play too. 

“What’s in it for me?” he arched his brow, slightly impressed and intrigued, “Oh, you thought I would be swooning over your accent and the compliments?” It was an exotic accent hidden under a trans-atlantic cover. 

“What do you want?” He quipped as he slid around the edge of the table, turned and stopped, a solid five steps away from you. “I want a cut of your earnings, a garden and my own bedroom” not at all what he thought.

“Don’t spouses sleep together?” he taunted, “Spouses that have sex sleep together, I don’t want you near me, not when it’s not necessary” one step back. 

“We wouldn’t have sex, at all?” he had this amused grin, a delicious contrast to your frown, “Is that a dealbreaker?” you hoped it was, not because it was him, but because as soon as you lay out that condition, the suitors find the door and disappear.

“I’m just trying to understand, you don’t hear this condition from many women, especially when arranging a marriage” he had a fair point, but didn’t deny it either. "I have no desire for kids" you placed your card, sure in your declaration.

To him it was unusual, to say the least, but it couldn’t be more perfect, something had to go wrong, you saw that hesitation in his eyes.

Some day he would realize how much he gives away with his eyes.

“Look, you get your dainty suburban wife cover, while I get my privacy, my hobby, and some independence when I get to be outside” 

“What else do I get?” 

“Witty conversation, a clean house, warm plate, need I say more?”

“Privacy, garden, money. I can work with that” 

"Seems we got ourselves a deal then" one sealed with a subtle kiss to your hand. 

[theres-a-body-here]

Scumtober- Day 15 (Gun Play)

Albert Wesker x FTM!reader

You let out a soft moan as you feel the cold of the metal against your cunt. Wesker was watching your face for your reactions as the orange glow of his eyes seemed to seep into your mind.

With slow precision, he raised the weapon ever so slightly before pressing it gently against your moist folds. You bite your lip and instinctively try closing your legs. Wekser lets out a chuckle and grasps your thighs to keep them open.

"Do you like where I'm aiming?" he whispered huskily.

"yes...I do," You mutter as you keep your gaze on his trigger finger.

Wesker smirked at your answer, pleased with the effect he was having on you. "Good," Wesker purred, his fingers curling around the trigger of the gun.

To your frustration, he keeps the gun still, causing you to let out a whimper. It seems he wants you to put on a show for him. You oblige.

As you begin to grind against the cool steel of the gun, a fierce hunger flashes in Albert Wesker's eyes. He watches intently as your wetness coats the metal, making it slippery beneath your eager movements. The muscles in his arms tense as he begins to breathe heavily.

"Good boy," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "Such a good boy, obeying his master so perfectly..."

His heart raced as he watched you stroke your own clit with the tip of his gun, moans escaping your lips as you neared orgasm. Without warning, he pulled the gun away abruptly, startling you.

He watched as confusion clouded your features, wondering what had driven him to end things so suddenly. But then, he smiled darkly. Leaning close once again, he lowered his voice to a husky growl. "Not so fast," he purred. "We aren't done here quite yet."

You make a pout, frustrated that he pulled away from your aching heat. Albert reaches over and laughs as he kisses your cheek, the sound vibrating against your skin where his lips touched. "Now now," he chided gently, "no need to pout. We'll get there soon enough."

Wesker once again presses the tip of his gun to your wet pussy, but this time he gently pushes in. Your body tenses up in fear and excitement at the thought of him gun-fucking you. You let out a small hiss as your pussy squeezes around the first inch of the barrel.

His hand moved to cup your face tenderly, his thumb tracing gentle circles around your lower lip. "There now, don't worry," he murmured soothingly. "It might sting a little at first...but soon enough, we'll get you used to it."

With slow, steady pressure, Wesker pushed the gun further inside you. You gasped as pain shot through your most sensitive spot, followed immediately by a feeling of fullness. He watched carefully, waiting for signs of discomfort.

Wesker continued pushing the gun deeper inside you, watching as your expression changed from pain to pleasure.

Leaning in closer, he whispered hoarsely against your ear, "That's it...feel me filling you up. Know that this is mine...my gun." He whispered before adding, "And remember who taught you to love it."

As you adjusted to the intrusion, Wesker started moving the gun steadily in and out of your sopping pussy. Your walls began to pulse rhythmically around the gun as your body began to tremble, urging him onward.

Wesker's hand thrust his gun inside you at a steady pace, driving the gun deeper into your aching pussy with each thrust. You cried out in ecstasy as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. Your fingers dug into the sheets with a death grip that made your knuckles white.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Wesker purred, his words sending shockwaves of desire coursing through your veins. "Just imagine how much better it would feel to have my real cock buried deep inside you."

You let out a soft whine.

Wesker smirked at your response, clearly enjoying the power he held over you. "Oh, don't worry, my pet," he said, his voice dripping with promise. "When I'm ready for that, believe me, you'll know." Without warning, he increased the speed of his thrusts, driving his gun deeper into your quivering cunt.

With a devious glint in his eye, Wesker leaned forward, his mouth seeking out your swollen clit. His tongue teased and tormented the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hands fly to his head and you grip his blond hair tight. At the same time, he continued his relentless assault on your tight pussy, his gun sliding in and out of you in a steady rhythm that sent shockwaves of delight through your entire being.

Wesker's gaze locked onto yours as he pressed his hand harder against the gun lodged deep within your pussy. He watched closely for any sign of impending climax.

"Come for me," he whispered, his hot breath tickling the underside of your thighs. "Let go, baby. Show me how much you want it."

You arched your back, groaning loudly as the pleasurable sensations washed over you. Your inner muscles began to spasm erratically around the now warm metal, signaling your imminent release.

"Yes," Wesker growled, taking hold of your face roughly. "Cum for me, you filthy little slut. Cum hard on my gun!"

You screamed out his name as the combination of stimulation from his tongue and gun on your cunt. Your body shook violently, your orgasm wracking your very core.

"Such a good boy," Wesker praised you, using his free hand to grab hold of your hip and pull you against him. "So fucking needy. This is exactly why I love you."

You managed to catch those last few words through your hazy, postorgasmic state. You give him a dazed smile as you lean on him limply. "I love you too, Albert," You say weakly, exhausted and tired.

A slow smile spread across Wesker's face as he heard those three little words fall from your lips.

Without warning, he yanked the gun forcefully out of your pussy, causing you to cry out in surprise. Unphased, he placed the wet tip of the gun against his own lips and slowly drew it in, sucking softly on the metallic surface. His eyes never left yours.

"Mmm," he hummed, closing his eyes in appreciation. "Delicious." Reaching down, he grabbed a nearby towel and began wiping his gun clean. You fall back onto the mattress.

As you drifted off to sleep, you felt a warm weight settle beside you. Opening your eyes lazily, you saw Wesker slide into bed alongside you. Without a word, he wrapped his arm protectively around your waist, drawing you closer to his chest. "My good boy," he whispered softly, stroking a hand through your hair. "You're such a good boy for me." He said lovingly, running his fingers down your cheek before closing his eyes once more. You shift closer to him as you close your eyes too.

Scumtober 2023 Masterlist

[sakura1uvr]

Heat of the Hour

A/N: Idk it was Interesting to write this to say the least i was losing ideas for it but i somehow finished it

Pairing: Chaewon (Le sserafim) x f!Y/N

synopsis; waking up from a nap you were super sleepy but your girlfriend had other ideas

Warning: kissing, eating out... just full of gayness

Requested: @snepy

MEN DNI

You wake up after a long night. Your head is hurting and you just feel tired. You turn your head and you see Chaewon just looking at you. "Good morning gorgeous."

Her voice is soft, yet it sends a rush of heat through you. You look at her better, her short hair tangled slightly, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes. You just can't help yourself but feel aroused.

“Good morning,” you reply, the corners of your lips curling into a smile. You notice the way her eyes flicker down your body, filled with playful intent.

Last night’s memories play vividly in your mind, and as you catch her gaze on your body, you know today is going to be different.

Chaewon leans in closer, her breath warm against your cheek. “I was thinking... maybe I could use some help waking up,” she whispers, you can just hear the lust in her voice as her fingers play with your hand.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh really? What did you have in mind?"

"Well you know how stressed i have been lately.. with work.." You nod, your curiosity piqued. “I can only imagine. Is that why you’re looking at me like you will eat me alive?”

Her smile widens, revealing a hint of playful determination. “Maybe. I think I need a little… distraction.”

As she leans in even closer, her lips almost brushing against yours, a shiver runs through you. Chaewon's hand finds your thigh, fingers grazing the skin just above your pajama shorts. You can feel the warmth radiating off her, her intentions clear, but also teasingly ambiguous.

You swallow hard, feeling your pulse quicken. “What kind of distraction are we talking about?” you ask.

"Well you know.. the one that helps you forget all of your worries at once." With that she leans in, finally kissing you. The kiss was slow but full of passion.

She sat on your lap, her hands moving to get tangled in your hair. Your hands on her hips.

Your lips started exploring her jaw, and then her neck. You pull away and lay her down on the bed, then you continue where you left off.

As your lips travel down her body, you feel her shiver beneath your touch, a mix of anticipation and delight radiating from her. You take your time, savoring every moment, each kiss a silent pledge of affection and desire. The way her breath hitches when you reach her thighs ignites something primal within you, a desire to explore further.

Chaewon’s fingers tangle in your hair, gently guiding your movements closer to where she wants you most. “That feels amazing,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper, filled with need.

You pause for a brief moment, looking into her eyes, searching for the silent permission that dances within them. Her gaze is filled with trust and longing, urging you onward. So, you lean in, nuzzling against her inner thighs before delicately kissing the soft skin there.

A soft gasp escapes her lips as you push your tongue in her pussy, and you watch as her eyes flutter closed, lost in the sensation. It’s intoxicating—the way her body responds to your touch, the way her breathing quickens, it makes you want her even more.

As your tongue is dancing inside her you place your thumb against her soft clit,  slowly massaging it.

“Please... don’t stop,” she pleads, her voice barely audible but filled with desperation.

You are entranced by her reactions—the way her body responds, the flush of her skin, the way she arches into your touch. You grip her thigh, anchoring her as you continue your exploration, every flick of your tongue eliciting soft sounds of pleasure.

Her eyes flutter closed, lost in a haze of sensation, and you feel her warmth radiate against you. The intimacy of this moment envelops you both, every kiss and touch binding you closer together in a dance of trust and desire.

Her fingers tug gently at your hair, guiding you as she whispers words of encouragement, each one spurring you on. “Please, I need more…” she breathes, and the urgency in her voice sends a thrill through you.

You focus on her soft, sensitive pussy, exploring every inch with a mix of fervor and tenderness. Your tongue thrusts inside her, drawing soft, shuddering breaths from her, and the way her hips instinctively arch toward you urges you to continue, pushing the limits of her pleasure.

“Right there,” she gasps, her voice thick with need as you find a rhythm that matches the frantic beating of the heart that you can feel beneath your lips.

“More… please…” she whines, her eyes fluttering open just enough for you to see the depths of her want. It’s intoxicating, and you were the source of her pleasure, the way you’re able to push her closer to the edge.

You decelerate just a moment, ensuring she feels every sensation, every flick of your tongue, every moment that ignites that sweet tension within her. The way her body responds to you, the soft gasps and the rapid breaths, tells you she’s nearing her peak.

As the urgency builds, you decide to take her there. You quicken your movements, your tongue working in tandem with your fingers, stroking her with deft precision. You watch as her chest begins to rise and fall more rapidly, the flush on her cheeks deepening.

Then, in an instant, it all unravels. Chaewon’s back arches, and a loud moan escapes her lips, reverberating through the air as waves of pleasure crash over her. You can feel the intensity of her release, the way her body pulses against you, the taste of her sweetness overwhelming and exhilarating.

You continue to relish her high, pressing soft kisses along her thighs as she comes down, each new wave of sensation ebbing and flowing until it all ends.

When she finally catches her breath, her gaze meets yours, filled with gratitude and a hint of playful mischief once more. “See? I told you I needed a distraction,” she teases, her voice still slightly breathless.

You grin, basking in the warmth of your shared experience. “And I think we both found one.”

She pulls you in for a kiss, one that’s soft yet charged with the remnants of the heat that just transpired between you.

She pulls away and nuzzles into your chest. You both fall asleep together, cuddling. One day off work won't hurt right?

[targtowerxstark]

Exploring Lord Stark

Targaryen reader x Cregan Stark

reader is a targtower but could be team black either as the other targtower are only mentioned once in passing. Minor description of character (hair colour/length,gender) .

plot: y/n targaryen becomes bored of everyday castle life and reads about the North. She goes on a journey to explore the North but the first thing to catch her eye is Cregan Stark

One night, in the heart of the capital, y/n found herself living the same day everyday. The same servants scuttled about her chambers each morning, their faces a blur of familiarity, while the same guards stood in the halls night after night and it was the same boring ladies gossiping at court. That night, fueled by a restless spirit, she slipped from her chambers and ventured into the shadowy depths of the castle library. The air was thick with the scent of aged parchment as she discovered a tome titled "The secrets of the seven kingdoms." Her fingers danced over the pages until she stumbled upon a chapter that spoke of the Seven Wonders, her imagination igniting at the mention of the Wall. As she read on about Winterfell, she was captivated by its majestic beauty, the towering walls and the snow-capped peaks surrounding it. She was intrigued by the 3 acre wide gods wood and the mysterious never ending crypts. She knew she wanted to explore these beauty’s. she caught a glimpse of a passage about the young lord, Cregan Stark, and a mischievous thought crossed her mind: perhaps she wouldn’t mind exploring him too.

The next morning, y/n sat at the grand breakfast table, the sun filtering through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the polished wood. Her family surrounded her—Aegon, brooding as always, Aemond, with his charming yet careless demeanor, and sweet Helaena, who spoke in soft whispers. Their mother, Alicent, was engaged in a monotonous conversation about court affairs, while King Viserys, bedridden and frail, was absent from the dull gathering.

“Must we always discuss the same tiresome matters?” y/n sighed, pushing her plate away. “I long for something more than this endless chatter.”

“If the important matters of court don’t appeal to you y/n, you are free to sulk elsewhere” said Alicent.

The words hung in the air like a challenge, igniting a spark within her. With a sudden resolve, she decided to take her dragon for a ride, longing to escape the confines of the castle.As she made her way to the dragon pit, the corridors felt almost alive, echoing with the whispers of history. The scent of damp earth and burning torches filled her nostrils as she descended the stone steps, her heart racing with anticipation. Finally, she reached the pit, where her dragon awaited her. "Valyra," she whispered, stroking the shimmering scales of her dragon, a creature of fire and grace, her wings a tapestry of deep crimson and gold. With a powerful leap, they took to the sky, the wind whipping through y/n's hair as she soared above the sprawling kingdom. Beneath her, the landscape unfolded like a vivid painting—rolling hills, shimmering rivers, and the distant mountains beckoning her. The thrill of freedom surged through her veins as she urged Valyra onward, feeling an inexplicable pull toward the North. “Let’s keep going, Valyra,” she called out, her heart yearning for the unknown, for the promise of adventure that lay just beyond the horizon.

As y/n and Valyra soared higher into the crisp air, she could feel the warmth of the capital fading away. The lush greens of the fields below began to give way to a blanket of white, the ground transforming into a glistening expanse of snow. The air grew colder, biting at her cheeks and filling her lungs with a refreshing chill. As they flew over the rugged terrain, she heard distant shouts rising from below, the voices echoing against the mountains. "A dragon! A dragon!" The excitement and fear in their tones made her heart race. She realized that for many of the Northerners, this was the first time they were witnessing a dragon in the flesh, a creature of legend.

And then, there it was—Winterfell. The castle rose majestically from the snow-covered landscape, its ancient stone walls standing strong against the elements. Tall towers reached toward the sky, their battlements adorned with banners that fluttered in the icy wind. The imposing structure was surrounded by a vast expanse of white, the icy moat reflecting the pale winter sun. As she descended, y/n felt a sense of awe wash over her; Winterfell was a place steeped in history and tradition.

With a graceful landing, Valyra settled onto the snowy ground nearby, her massive wings folding against her body. Y/n dismounted, her boots crunching softly in the snow as she approached the castle. A group of men stood outside, their faces etched with surprise and reverence. As they recognized her, they knelt, their heads bowed. “Princess,” one of them spoke, his voice respectful yet tinged with curiosity. “Lord Stark wasn’t aware you would be coming. He is in a meeting but will be out soon to greet you.” They gestured for her to follow them to the guest rooms, where she could freshen up after her journey.

As y/n walked through the stone corridors of Winterfell, she was struck by the sense of culture that permeated the air. The warm glow of torches illuminated the walls, and the scent of woodsmoke mingled with the crispness of the cold. The people she passed wore furs and sturdy clothing, their expressions a mix of curiosity and admiration as they caught sight of her. The architecture was sturdy and practical, with thick walls and simple designs, a stark contrast to the delicate beauty of the capital. She could feel the heartbeat of the North in the laughter of children playing in the snow and the distant sounds of a bustling hearth.

Cregan pondered the implications of the news regarding her arrival. He had heard whispers of her beauty, but he knew all too well that such visits rarely heralded good tidings. "Surely, this is no mere social call," he mused, his brow furrowing with concern. "War must be looming on the horizon, or perhaps the crown seeks to impose yet another burden of taxes upon us. A princess does not travel without purpose."

With a heavy heart, he approached the grand door of her room, the air thick with anticipation. He raised his hand and rapped gently upon the wood, each knock echoing the weight of his thoughts. Moments later, the door creaked open, revealing the radiant figure of the Princess.

"Lord Cregan," she greeted him with a measured smile, her voice smooth yet laced with urgency. " good morning my lord, I trust you are well?"

Cregan inclined his head respectfully. "Princess, it is an honor to welcome you to the North, However, I must confess, your presence here stirs a sense of foreboding within me. What brings you to the North ?”

“Be at ease lord Stark” she chuckled “ I bring no talk of politics with me, i simply wanted to explore the beauty of the North and Winterfell caught my eye first. It would please me if i Had your blessing to explore the castle and the Gods wood over the following few days”

Cregan’s shoulders relaxed and the worry building in his chest finally stopped. While the princess spoke he couldn’t help but glance over her figure. Her silver hair hung low, down to her waist, her face was even more beautiful than he had been told, as if sculpted by the gods themselves, and her dress clung to her body in a way he had never seen with other women in the North.

��I am pleased to know that is what brings you here. Winterfell is yours princess. Should you need someone to guide you on your journey, I will always be near by.”

“thank you lord stark” she replied.

“Please princess, Call me Cregan”

“ Thank you very much for extending your kindness to me, I have much to learn about the North. I’ll be calling on you to show me around sooner then you’ll like, Cregan”

He chuckled in response

“Good day princess”

and with that, Lord stark left y/n alone in the guest quarters. y/n was left intrigued by the young lord, he was one of the finest men she had seen in her life and she knew the first thing she wanted to explore was Lord Stark and his world. Yet that would have to wait, the gods wood were calling her……

(interested in a part 2?😏…Interact !!❤️)

[gunnrblze]

The sibling dynamic between Hesh and Logan has rotted the innards of my brain. Long ramble of me reading into this too much and probably making it personal below the cut, lol.

They’re extremely close, grow up practically codependent, at least from a certain point onward. Hesh brothers Logan in an almost fatherly way sometimes because their actual father places this responsibility on him (albeit largely unintentionally I imagine), for the literal sole fact that he’s two (2) years older than Logan. That’s it, just two. He got parentified like a lot of older siblings tend to be, purely due to circumstance of being the eldest. If Logan was older this dynamic would most likely have been the same thing. Hesh was pushed into this protector role regardless of how he feels about it.

And I wonder how it would’ve panned out had Elias tried to foster a more ‘behave as a unit’ approach rather than ‘Hesh protect Logan regardless’ type thing. Logan followed in Hesh’s footsteps (QUITE LITERALLY!) and strived to be just like him. During all their training, they “became men” together and learned how to communicate non verbally to the point where they’re near fucking telepathic.

Yes they fight together, yes Logan was there for Hesh always, “Logan has my back and I have his, we’re brothers” yes yes yes. But Hesh was damn near playing caretaker for him sometimes. From the beginning of the game we see Elias telling Hesh to look out for Logan constantly, and he continues to throughout the entire game. And at the end when Rorke drags Logan away you can hear the pain and the panic in Hesh’s voice (duh). Can see him trying to reach for him and crawl to him. From the beginning to the end, Hesh is Logan’s big brother in every sense of the word. From childhood to the moment Logan is drug off the beach, Hesh is right there with him like a guardian angel. Or more like a guard dog maybe lol. And I just wonder what difference it would’ve made if Elias didn’t force Hesh (whether he meant to or not doesn’t even matter) to shoulder the burden of not only growing up himself, but guiding Logan so heavily at the same time.

And what gets me the most about this is that Logan is just as experienced as Hesh, minus those two years that Hesh joined the army before Logan turned 18. They trained together, Rorke implied that Elias trained them a lot himself, and Logan is just as capable. Just as intelligent, prepared, skilled, etc. Yet in some parts of the game, it almost seems like his ‘baby of the family’ role follows him, despite being a skilled spec ops soldier fighting an active war, and it’s just so interesting to me. I just know this has gotta be a deep seated thing for Hesh, to have been his brothers guardian in a sense, despite only having two years on him. He was just as young and confused, just as in need of guidance, and yes Elias provided a lot of that for the both of them, but Hesh kinda had to wing it a lot I think. He didn’t have an older sibling to look up to because he IS the older sibling being looked up to.

And on the flip side, how is Logan meant to interpret that growing up, in any other way besides ‘Hesh knows more, does more, is better than me, knows better than me, etc’ type of thing? You’re being looked after by an older sibling half the time, of course you’re gonna idolize them more than a sibling might do so even in a regular/healthy circumstance. Like yea that’s his big brother and he’s gonna look up to him regardless, but you’re only two years younger being silently treated like you’re in need of this caretaking….c’mon. Elias created a dynamic in which the two of them are so codependent, that it had to have hurt Hesh on an even deeper level to lose Logan than it already would’ve. That would already be soul shattering in the first place, especially with the dogshit ass circumstances they were in, but to lose the little brother that you most definitely feel personally responsible for…? This is why I think Hesh would genuinely be tweaking the fuck out post beach.

And to add onto this ramble about Merrick becoming like a mentor to Hesh, I can see Hesh getting some actual older male guidance without the addendum of ‘also here’s this other guy you need to look out for’ being healing in a way. Dare I say Keegan/Kick would even become like an older brother figure to Hesh and kinda fill that hole, the older brother he didn’t get.

Anyways idk I’m insane about them always. You unintentionally made your sons codependent on one another, and then you die, and then one son is taken, blah blah we know what happened. I mean damn lol.

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Safe (M, cold)

Well, here I am.

It's been a few months since I've written anything in the Elliot's universe, but recently someone asked for a Mark-centric story, and this behemoth is what ensued. Allow me to preface by saying this: Mark is basically my self-insert. This was a very hard story to write. If it sucks, my apologies, hah.

In this, Mark gets sick from Matt and wants to hide it from Elijah. It is significantly more hurt/comfort-slash-sickfic than snzfic, honestly. It starts fairly benign, fluffy, and silly and gets really intense a few pages in. There's a lot of musing, a lot of being inside Mark's head. Idk. I'm not sure if I love it or hate it. This is the first story I've written on here that has taken me a full week to get down, and that I've written and scrapped multiple scenes. It is very long. I really hope you enjoy it if you read it. I'd love to hear your thoughts, but also understand if it's just too long-winded for people to read. Also, there's a real chance of spelling/grammar errors because I just can't look at this monster of a fic any longer, ha.

Anyway. Onward.

CW: Male snz, illness, coughing, contagion. 6K words (almost exactly)

Safe

“Don’t go near them.”

It’s the first thing that hit his ears as he pushed through the swinging kitchen doors; no ‘hi, Mark,’ no, ‘good morning’, just a barked order with absolutely zero context thrown in. Mark whipped his head in the direction of the stern voice of his boss.

“Good morning to you, too,” he muttered, making his way towards the office, where Elijah was stationed, seated, but not doing any computer work. “Who and what are we avoiding?” he asked as he entered.

“The chefs,” Elijah said, moving his chair to let the younger manager in to sit. Mark placed his backpack on the ground, tossed his coat over top of Greyson’s on the second office chair. Waited for further explanation that did not come.

“Okay…” he said, sitting beside his boss. “And we’re not going near them because…?” Mark hadn’t even seen Greyson or Matt yet this morning. The avoiding was being done for him, so what was Elijah’s deal?

Elijah hummed a low disapproval – of what, Mark couldn’t guess – and turned towards his computer. “You’ll see,” he said, shaking his mouse and pulling up an order guide. “Just don’t breathe your boyfriend’s breath, okay?”

Mark colored at the implication; it had only been a couple of months since Matt and Mark had been outed to the restaurant, and the floor manager still wasn’t used to their relationship being casually dropped into conversation. While Elijah busied himself with admin work, Mark stood – time to figure out what the fuck Elijah was on about.

You would think that finding chefs in a kitchen would be a relatively banal business; they’re chefs. They’re cooking. Hardly a moving target – but you’d be wrong. Somehow, the second a front of house manager starts looking for a chef, they become a ghost. They haven’t existed for a thousand years – are you sure this restaurant even has a chef? Mark couldn’t help but ponder how the fuck this hundred-square-foot kitchen somehow became a labyrinthian nightmare the second he wanted to find his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s boss; c’mon, he’d checked the walk-in, the back kitchen, even the dock to see if they were smoking, where the fuck were they?

Maybe Elijah had told the two of them to stay away from Mark and the front of house staff before the floor manager arrived, and they were playing a cat-and-mouse style keep-away game that Mark was unaware of. Or maybe they had gone to the store to pick up chicken or some shit. Either way, Mark was done looking. Elijah said don’t go near them, he thought to himself, heading back towards the front of the kitchen, easy enough.

Of course, it was the moment that Mark decided he was done looking that he quite literally bumped into his boyfriend coming through the kitchen doors.

“Oof,” Matt grunted as they collided. Greyson, not even a step behind him, turned their two-person bump into a three-car-pileup that nearly ended in hot coffee being spilled over all of them.

“Christ, Chef, watch where you’re going,” Matt muttered untangling himself from the middle of the pack.

“Mbe watch where I’mb going?” Greyson asked, wiping his coffee-covered hand on his chef’s pants. “The two of you are practically grinding on each other here and I ndeed to watch where I’mb going?”

Mark clocked it in the chef’s voice immediately – oh. That’s what Elijah meant.

But… he had said both of them… right?

Mark’s head shot up from checking to make sure he didn’t have coffee all over his button-down to look Matt directly in the face – ah. Fuck.

“Hh-! Hh’ITSHZH-ue! HRTSHH-ue!” Matt collapsed to the side to sneeze, seemingly in lieu of responding to Greyson’s dig. “Snf. Fuck off, Chef.” There it was.

“Bless you,” Mark said, attempting not to sound accusatory. Matt just nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. “Sorry.”

Before Mark could respond to the unnecessary apology, Elijah’s voice rang out once again from the office. “Mark, I told you to stay away from them!” The GM stood from his desk chair and strode into the kitchen, physically pushing Mark and Matt away from one another. “Six foot distance,” he said, pointing at both of them. “And you,” he said, addressing his counterpart, “didn’t I tell you to go get some tea and sit the fuck down? We have a big night tonight and I need you conscious, please.”

Greyson rolled his eyes and held up his cup. “I was on mby way to sit when the children starting gyrating on each other in the mbiddle of mby kithcen,” he said. “Don’t put this one on mbe.”

Elijah squeezed the bridge of his nose, frustrated. “First of all,” he said, moving towards Greyson and plucking the cup from his hand, “that isn’t tea.”

“The tea we buy is gross,” Greyson whined. “And I’mb ti – hh! Hh...hhuh-ETSHZH-ue! Snrf, fuck.” Greyson took a moment to collect himself, to wipe his nose on his sleeve and cough – a wet, concerning sound – before finishing his sentence. “I’mb tired,” he said, snatching the cup back.

“Which is why I told you to go sit down,” Elijah said, pressing his palms together and accentuating each word with his hands. “And please do not get my front of house manager sick. I beg, Greyson.”

“Talk to him,” Greyson said, thumbing towards Matt. “I’mb ndot the one with my tongue in Mark’s mbouth twenty-four-seven.”

Mark’s face flamed once again, but Matt, either too sick to care or beyond the embarrassment that was a public relationship in the work place, just rolled his eyes.

“Jealous, much?” Matt asked under his breath. Greyson shot daggers with a glance at his sous, and Mark decided it was probably time to step in.

“Listen, how about I go grab the two of you some medicine from down the street, you both take a rest, and then by the time the meds have kicked in, everyone should be good for service.” Mark looked to Elijah for his blessing; his boss was obviously mulling it over, considering. “And this way, I’ll be out of the metaphorical splash zone,” he finished, which finally prompted a nod from Elijah.

“Okay,” his boss said. “Good idea, Mark. You two – come with me.”

The GM led the two chefs back into the dining room to lay in the back booth while Mark let out a sigh. He was happy, of course, to be out of the fight, to have seemingly calmed everyone down, and to have put his boss’s mind at ease.

Unfortunately, he was fairly sure that – despite Elijah’s eased mind – it was already too late for keeping himself away from the newest restaurant pestilence.

***

“Elijah is going to kill me, Matt.”

“Oh, please, he is ndo – ITSZCHH-ue! ndot,” Matt said, swiping the bottle of Dayquil from Mark’s hand and chugging it. “You gonna sit?” he asked, sniffling and patting the milk crate beside him and shivering. Mark sighed.

“I’m not gonna sit, because Elijah is going to kill me even more if he sees me sitting right next to you.”

“I’mb gonna go out on a limb here and say that’s ndot possible,” Matt said, dissolving at the end of his sentence into a chesty cough.

“You’re coughing now, too?” Mark asked, worry about Elijah’s anger usurped very suddenly by concern for his boyfriend. Mark placed a hand to Matt’s head. “Oh, honey.”

“Sorry,” Matt said, not bothering to move Mark’s hand. Mark huffed out a little laugh.

“Don’t apologize for being sick. Please,” he said, moving his hand to cup Matt’s cheek. “Even if Elijah might kill us both.”

Matt smiled, pressed his face harder into Mark’s hand. “You might ndot get sick. You ndever know,” he muttered, eyes closing as Mark held his head up.

“Matt,” Mark laughed, “I mean… I don’t think that’s, uh, possible after last night.” Matt’s eyes blinked open at the mention of it, and a little smile flitted across his lips.

The apartment had been quiet.

“Matt?” Mark called as he stepped inside. “Babe, are you home?”

He strained his ears; the shower was on. Mark had an idea.

He tiptoed across the cold apartment floor, quietly stripping as he went; by the time he got to the bathroom door, he was nude as the day he was born. The bathroom door wasn’t closed all the way, so he pushed inside silently and pulled back the curtain.

A fact about Matt that shocked Mark more than anything was that the man did not get scared. He had yawned through their first haunted house together; he fell asleep during the Terrifier movies, for Christ’s sake. So Mark was unsurprised when, instead of screaming bloody murder the way he would’ve if Matt snuck up on his in the shower, his boyfriend simply turned away from the spray and smiled.

“You’re early,” he murmured, ushering Mark in.

“I came right from the gym,” Mark said, wrapping his arms around the shorter man. “I wanted to see you.”

“Mmmm,” Matt hummed, pressing himself into Mark’s arms. “That’s nice, baby.”

They stood that way for a few minutes, until Mark tipped Matt’s chin up towards his face. “I wanted to see you,” he said, pressing his lips onto Matt’s neck, “but I also wanted to… do things. With you.”

Matt’s breath caught in the back of his throat. “Yeah?” he asked, voice low. “Like what?”

Mark stood back to his full height, and pushed Matt against the shower wall. “Let me show you.”

“Fair enough,” Matt said now, lifting his head. “But, I mbean, are you feeling okay right ndow?”

He was, for the moment. But, Matt had seemed alright last night, and clearly he’d already been on the trajectory towards ill – despite that fact that he had been very good at hiding it. Whatever he and his boss had picked up was certainly quick to come on.

“I’m fine, baby, don’t worry about me,” Mark said, rummaging through the drug store bag to hand Matt, who’d fallen into another paroxysm of coughing, the Robitussin. “I’m more worried about you than anything.”

Matt snapped the top off and chugged this medicine as well, seemingly without any concern about mixing two medications. “Babe, it’ll be fine. I kndow Elijah is worried about getting through the weekend, but it’s ndot like any of us haven’t worked with a cold before.” He shrugged then, handed Mark the medicine, and stood. Mark stood as well, and once again cupped Matt’s hot face – this time with both hands.

“Please just take it a little bit easy tonight, okay?” Mark said. “I know Greyson is sick, too, but don’t try to do too much. We don’t need another moment like a few months ago.”

“And to think I’d just forgotten about that,” Matt said, going on tiptoe to kiss his boyfriend. “I’ll be okay.” Mark kissed him back, a little longer than was maybe necessary; long enough that neither of them heard the back door open until it was too late.

“Mark, what the fuck are you doing?”

Oh, fuck.

Elijah.

***

By the end of the night, Greyson and Matt were shadows of their former selves.

“Hh-! Hhhuh… hhNGTSHH-ue! HRTSHH! ETSZCH-ue! Fuuuck mbe,” Greyson muttered as he wrenched into the sleeve of his hoodie – chef coats had been abandoned about an hour into service, when both he and Matt started shivering hard enough to fuck up the plating on more than half the dishes – for the millionth time that night. He attempted to clear his throat, prompting a flurry of congested coughs.

Behind him, Matt was sitting on the cold, industrial kitchen ground, head between his knees. “I’mb gonna pass out, I just kndow I am.”

“Don’t fuckigg pass out,” Greyson growled, pulling his sous to his feet. “You ndeed to get your blood mboving, you gotta stand up. Idiot.”

The two of them, bickering and sneezing in near-unison by the pass, had captivated the attention of both front of house managers, who had turned away from their computer work to watch the mess unfold.

“Hope you like what you see,” Elijah said, finally. “Because that’s gonna be you tomorrow.”

Behind his boss’s back, Mark rolled his eyes. “Boss, I’m fine. I don’t feel sick at all, trust me, I’m going to be okay.” It was mostly true; he’d sneezed a few more times today than was normal for him, yes. And he was a little tired – no more than usual, surely. The rawness in the back of his throat was easily ignored with huge gulps of water. He was fine.

“Mmm,” Elijah said, swinging his chair around to look the younger man in the eye, “sure. Whatever you say, Mark; just remember, if you look even close to how bad Matt does tonight, you’re off the floor. And I mean off the floor until you return to normal. A cold is one thing; whatever these two have is entirely another. Understood?”

Mark swallowed around his burgeoning sore throat; off the floor. Off the floor didn’t mean relegated to busywork behind the scenes; it meant sent home. Being sent home meant days without a backup manager to help Elijah on the floor, and no one to help on the floor meant Elijah would realize there was a gap in their team. A gap in management. Mark had been the only floor manager in all the years Elliot’s had been open; Elijah had mentioned a few times that maybe they should hire another person, someone to cover if both Mark and Elijah couldn’t come in, but Mark had been vehemently against it. Elijah couldn’t hire another manager, because if he did, he’d see how truly unqualified Mark had been for his position all this time. Once he saw how unqualified he was, he’d be out on his ass. No job, no money… no second family. No place he truly belonged.

Mark’s face flushed, and he cast his eyes towards the floor. “Yes, boss,” he said. “I understand.”

“Good,” Elijah said, nodding. “Now, go collect your boyfriend and take him to bed.”

***

The first time Mark was sick while working at Elliot’s was well over a year into his tenure.

Elijah had regarded Mark with concern, clocking him as unwell the second he sat in the office. “You don’t look well,” he said. “Are you feeling okay?”

Mark’s face had flushed, embarrassed; not getting sick for over a year working front of house was honestly a feat of accomplishment in the restaurant industry, but he still felt guilty for coming down with something, despite its inevitability. He shrugged, an attempt at playing it cool.

“I’mb okay, boss,” Mark croaked. “Just a cold.”

Elijah nodded slowly. “Are you sure it’s just a cold? You feel okay to work?”

Mark raised an eyebrow, confused. Did he look that unwell? “I mbean… yeah?” he said, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “Why?”

“Well,” Elijah said, opening a drawer and pulling out cold medicine, along with a small bag that looked like it could’ve come from his mother’s medicine cabinet. “A cold, we can work with.”

The GM explained to him, then, that there were marked differences between the front of house cold, and the back of house cold. “You’ve seen Greyson sick at work a dozen times,” Elijah said, passing Mark a cup full of pills and a water bottle. “Right?”

“Sure,” Mark said, swallowing the pills around a painfully sore throat. “It’s ndot like he’s hiding it.”

“Right. Right,” Elijah said, popping open a stick that looked like – was that concealer? “The chefs, the cooks – they don’t have to hide anything. Us, though? No one wants to be served soup by someone with a stuffy nose. We all get the same shit, but only they’re allowed to look like shit.” He dabbed the concealer under Mark’s eyes, used an expert finger to blend it into his skin. “That’s the industry for you.”

“Are you… putting makeup on mbe?” Mark asked, laughing a bit.

“Sure am,” Elijah said. “A little concealer goes a long way in this profession, Mark. Concealer, and enough meds to tranquilize an elephant.” His boss closed the little concealer pen, put the medicine and makeup away. “I want you on the floor, but I want you to look… alive.” Elijah shut the drawer, shrugged. “Let me know if you start feeling really shitty. Otherwise? Come to the back to blow your nose, and feel free to help yourself to whatever you want in here.”

Mark blinked, a little confused, but grateful for the advice. Elijah seemed… almost fatherly, like this, and he could feel embarrassing tears welling in his eyes at this, the smallest gesture of being cared for. Mark looked down, cleared his throat. “Uh… okay, boss. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Elijah said, patting Mark’s knee. “We’ve gotta take care of each other in this hell hole of an industry, y’know?”

Mark couldn’t look up. The thought of his boss seeing him cry was entirely too much for him to handle. “Right,” he whispered. “Right.”

***

The hardest part of hiding an illness, Mark knew from experience, was speaking.

Putting on makeup and looking like a human instead of a corpse? Easy. He’d learned how to apply concealer so it didn’t look like he was in drag – just enough that in the dim lighting of the restaurant you couldn’t tell if those were dark circles or shadows. He’d learned if you added a tiny bit of blush to your cheeks, no one noticed that your nose was also red, and he’d figured out the hard way that there was never a world in which he needed eyeliner, even if it made his eyes look less bloodshot.

He always dressed immaculately when he wasn’t feeling well; extra-crisp button down, sport coat, his expensive Ray Ban glasses, not the cheapos from Zenni he usually donned. Mark shined his shoes the second he felt a tickle in his throat, broke out the cuff links if he suddenly sneezed more than thrice in a row. He’d been trained well by Elijah to hide the visual cues of any oncoming malady.

Hiding how he really felt came even more naturally; he’d been practicing that since childhood. Complaining wasn’t in his nature, or had maybe been stamped out entirely at some point – either way, Mark could be actively passing out, unable to breathe, coughing so hard he couldn’t form a sentence, and he wouldn’t even mention it. Of course, he’d been sent home from work for being ill before, but never once had he chosen to go. Even the thought of saying ‘I’m sick’ made him dizzy with unease. You need to work through that in therapy, Matt had said to him multiple times, and he knew it was true, but it was also helpful. In this industry, admitting defeat was akin to admitting you sucked at your job.

The voice, though? That was always what gave him away. No matter how much medicine he took, he could always hear the rasp that overtook his voice immediately. His m’s and n’s turned to rounded shadows of their former selves even if he blew his nose every five minutes. His timbre lowered considerably, to the point that when Matt first saw him sick he asked how it felt to be able to do a perfect Johnny Cash, but only when he felt like shit. It was a problem, but Mark was a pretty quiet guy in general. If he was quieter than usual, usually no one was the wiser.

That’s what he hoped – that his boss would be none the wiser – as he dressed in his perfectly-tailored suit that morning, stifling sneeze after painful sneeze into handfuls of tissue all the while. Just don’t talk, he thought as he dotted Maybeline under his eyes. No one has to know.

Of course, not talking was a bit… difficult when his boss was around. “Good morning,” Elijah called to Mark as he buzzed through the kitchen, trying to make his way into the dining room without having to make small talk. Dammit. Mark stopped, begrudgingly, and nodded at his boss, who raised both eyebrows at the younger manager’s outfit choice. “Is there an event tonight I’ve forgotten?”

Mark shook his head, straightened his tie. “Just felt like dressing up,” he said, tactfully avoiding words with too many nasal letters. “How’re you, boss?”

“I’m well,” Elijah said, pointedly. He patted the empty chair next to him, prompting Mark to sit; don’t let him get a good look at you, a voice in Mark’s head chastised. Don’t get taken off the floor. “Greyson’s not coming in till three, if you want to do your preshift report in here today.”

“That’s okay,” Mark said. “I like the dining roomb.” Fuck.

Elijah cocked his head to the side, but didn’t mention Mark’s voice. “How’s Matt feeling?” he asked, another pointed question.

“He’s okay – a little better. Said he’d be here at four.” Mark patted himself on the back for maneuvering around any pesky m’s or n’s that time. Elijah nodded slowly.

“Glad to hear it,” Elijah said, standing. The younger manager was several inches taller than his boss, but Elijah was still able to look him fairly closely in the eye. Once again, one word rattled around in Mark’s head: fuck. “How are you feeling?”

Mark allowed a smile to form on his rapidly-chapping lips. “Good, boss. Ready to work,” he said simply. God, he needed to clear his throat. And more than that, he really, really needed to blow his nose.

Elijah nodded. “Alright,” he said, apparently placated. “Go ahead, then.”

“Thanks, boss,” Mark said, stepping out of the office doorway and pushing through the swinging kitchen doors before Elijah could say anything else. He’d made it through the first test, somehow. Just in time, too, he thought, making a beeline towards the bathroom. Because I really fucking need to -

“NTSHH!” Mark stifled a near-silent sneeze into his wrist as he yanked open the guest bathroom door. Finally, locked in the bathroom alone, he allowed himself to be as disgusting, as sick as he really was.

“Hhuh -! Hh- ETZSCH-ue! HRRSHH-ue! Huh… hh’RRSHH-ue!” Mark collapsed in on himself, scrambling to collect a handful of tissues so he wouldn’t ruin the sleeve of his suit. He blew his nose as thoroughly as he could – not that it made any difference, he was still stuffed up to the gills. A pathetic little cough escaped his lungs, prompting another tickle in his sinuses. “HUHTTSCHH-ue!”

Shut up, shut up, shut up, he chastised himself, blowing his nose again. He’s going to fucking hear you.

He waited a moment or two to see if Elijah would push through the door – he didn’t – before sitting fully clothed on the toilet and pulling out his phone.

11:56AM

Mark

what is this, the fucking plague?

Almost immediately, Matt texted back.

11:57AM Matt

o shit, did we get you already? baby im so sorry. u shouldve told me u weren’t feeling good last night u couldve stayed over

11:57AM Mark

not your fault. and I’m ok, just trying to avoid Elijah, he’s gonna be so pissed.

11:59AM

Matt

omfg he’ll get over it. its not like someone in that restaurant isnt sick every other week

Mark sighed, his lungs crackling at the effort. Matt was right; someone was almost always sick at Elliot’s, that was the way of things in this industry. They all shared drinks, they worked in close quarters, it was bound to happen. This was less about the illness itself – of course he’d been sick at work before, who hadn’t? - and more about the look he knew he’d see on Elijah’s face when he’d finally have to crack. He’d gone directly against his boss’s orders, had put his job and the restaurant second to his baser desires. That’s no way to get ahead in this world, his dad’s voice bellowed from the base of his brain. Mark shuddered; he wasn’t sure he’d be able to face Elijah’s look of pure disappointment. He wasn’t sure he had it in him.

Slipping his phone into his pocket, Mark stood and washed his hands. He took an inventory of his face in the mirror – eye bags poorly covered by drugstore makeup, his nose raw and red, his mouth slightly open to allow him to breathe – and realized how truly awful he looked. Was there even a chance that Elijah didn’t know he was sick? Doubtful, his dad’s voice muttered.

You have to just try, another voice in his head pleaded. Just push through, you know how to push through. You’ve done it a million times before. He doesn’t have to know.

That voice, Mark knew, was delusional – a child’s gnawing plea to be accepted, to not get in trouble, to not be thought of as a burden – but he knew that sometimes you had to be delusional, had to listen to the saddest, smallest part of yourself to get through a day. He pulled his phone back out before leaving the bathroom.

12:04PM

Mark

just please don’t say anything to Elijah when you get here, ok? I’m fine, I promise. its honestly probably just in my head, it’s probably nothing so just don’t say anything. see u soon.

Pathetic, his dad’s voice spat, and Mark knew the voice was right. But that was nothing new, nothing to dwell on; he’d always been pathetic. Mark switched off his phone then, not wanting to be comforted by his boyfriend, and stepped onto the floor.

***

“Mark,” Matt said, reaching up to touch the front of house manager’s forehead, “you really need to go.”

Mark pulled away before Matt could touch him, though not by choice. “HRRSHH-uhh! Hh-! HhNTZSHH-ue! Snrrf. Leave mbe alone.”

Matt’s hand recoiled at the ice in his boyfriend’s voice, obviously hurt. Normally, Mark would’ve nearly fallen to his knees at the thought of hurting Matt’s feelings, but today, with the cold from hell progressing quicker than he ever could’ve anticipated, he couldn’t even find it in himself to apologize. Obviously he needed to go, but that would mean admitting to illness; it would mean begin taken off the floor until god-knows-when. It would mean Elijah replacing him.

No. He wasn’t about to go.

“Honey,” Matt said carefully, touching Mark’s hand across the expo board, “I’mb sure Elijah would understand. It’s a slow ndight, he already sent Greyson back home. What are you trying to prove?”

Of course, Matt was right; last night’s crazy shift was in stark contrast to this evening’s steady pace. There were hardly twenty more covers for the evening, and yes, even Greyson had admitted defeat and slunk out right at six p.m., in a fevered haze. The only reason Matt was still here was because his fever had broken this morning and, despite the lingering cough and stuffy nose, he was clearly feeling better. Good enough, even, to have gone behind Mark’s back and talked to Elijah.

“Matt told me,” Elijah had cornered him right before preshift started, in the back server station while everyone else ate family meal. Mark felt his stomach sink. Fucking Matt, he thought, clearing his throat to address his boss in the most normal voice he could muster.

“Told you what?” he asked, straightening his tie. Elijah gave the younger manager a knowing look.

“You don’t look like you feel well, Mark,” he said, obviously trying a different tactic. This time, Mark’s stomach knotted; he felt, for a moment, like a little kid, wanting to fall to the ground in front of his mommy and just allow himself to be comforted. He thought for a fleeting moment of how good it would feel to just admit it; I’m sick, he would say, if he were a normal fucking person, I want to go to bed.

Instead, Mark shook his head. “I don’t kndow what Matt told you, but he doesn’t kndow what he talking about,” he managed, his voice cutting out only once. “I’mb fine.”

Elijah sighed. “Mark, listen, I know I was an asshole yesterday -”

“Boss,” Mark cut Elijah off. “Please. I’mb okay. Just please, let mbe work.”

He’d walked away then, hadn’t let Elijah say whatever it was he wanted to say, and had avoided Matt as well as he could throughout service. Now, mid-shift, when all the cooks and servers were side-eyeing them from he expo board, was not the time to hash this out.

“I’mb ndot trying to prove anything, Matt,” Mark said now, grabbing two plates from the window. “Just stay out of mby business. What table?”

Matt bit his cheek, peaked at the chit. “Please don’t be mbad,” he said, voice quiet. Mark prickled; he couldn’t help it. He was mad. He’d asked one stupid thing of Matt, and now here he was, career in trouble, embarrassed in front of both of their staffs, and once again gearing up for another painful -

“HTTSHH-ue! God, fugck,” Mark swore, ducking expertly away from the plates he was holding. He sucked in through his nose hard enough to make himself dizzy, and looked back at Matt. “What table, Chef?” he asked, pointedly. Matt winced.

“Thirty-three,” he said finally. Mark nodded.

“Great. Thangks.” He turned on his heels and pushed out the kitchen doors.

***

Before it happened, Mark found himself thinking exactly what his boyfriend was moaning the night previous: I’m gonna pass out, I know I am.

The only difference was, Mark was correct.

He’d been feeling shittier and shittier as the night went on. It began with spells of dizziness that came anytime he moved his head too fast, then moved on to an ache in his chest every time he coughed. A cold is one thing, he remembered Elijah saying the night previous. Whatever they have is entirely something else.

Elijah the prophet.

He kept pushing through. Plate after plate came out of the kitchen on his aching arms; he shook drinks while coughing into his shoulder, and sniffled his way through seating guests. Mark could feel Elijah’s eyes on him, though his boss refused to speak to him throughout the shift. I’ll show him, his fever-addled mind kept saying. I can do this. I’m fine.

It wasn’t until the last table had sat that his body well and truly told him he’d had enough. Mark was seeing stars when he grabbed a filet and swordfish, and once again he ignored it. He ignored the room swimming before him as he pushed out of the kitchen. He ignored the sway in his step.

“Shit, Mark!” was the last thing he heard, standing in the middle of the dining room with hot plates in each of his hands. There was no way to tell who said it – Elijah? Matt? – but it didn’t really matter, because before he could respond, his vision became a tiny pinkprick, his knees buckled, and the lights went out.

***

When the world came back into focus, he had somehow teleported into his bed.

At first, Mark tried desperately to get up; he’d fallen in the middle of the restaurant, that he unfortunately remembered immediately. There had been people around, guests watching, and he immediately felt his face flame with embarrassment. Oh, Elijah is going to kill me.

That was when he realized he was no longer in the restaurant. Mark placed a hand over an aching eye; was it all a dream? He looked down – no, it couldn’t be. He was still in his tailored suit, the tie and ciff links missing, but otherwise dressed to the nines.

“Whoa there, kid,” a familiar voice came from the doorway. “Go ahead and lie back down.”

Mark blearily glanced towards the voice. There, just outside his bedroom, stood Elijah, a steaming cup in one hand and a thermometer in the other. Fuck.

“Shit, Elijah, I’mb so sorry I ca – HTSHH-ue! HRRSHH-ue! Fuck, ’scuse mbe,” Mark, any facade of health finally washed away, used his expensive suit jacket to wipe his nose. Elijah glided across the small room and sat on the foot of the bed, handing the younger man the cup. Tea.

“Save your breath,” Elijah said. “You already apologized about a hundred times at the restaurant.”

He had? Mark gave Elijah a confused look, and sat back on the pillows behind him. He hadn’t even realized he’d come to at the restaurant at all.

“Mmhmm,” Elijah said, nodding. “To me. To Matt. To the guests. To the EMTs. I would think you’d be apologized out.”

EMTs? Mark cringed; as if he hadn’t been embarrassed enough. He wanted to ask, but at the same time he figured it was probably better that he didn’t remember. Small mercies, he thought.

“Lij,” Mark croaked, taking a sip of the tea, “I really amb… sorry. I mbean, I can’t imagine how mbuch I embarrassed you. Thangk you for bringing mbe home… I understand if you can’t…let mbe, uh. Work there. Anymore.”

Mark, destroyed by fever, and aches, and what was probably some sort of bronchitis-sinus-infection super-fucking-hybrid, couldn’t help but let the angry, ashamed tears fall as he said it. Matt wasn’t here, which most likely meant he was out both a boyfriend and a job. You fucking idiot. You stupid, fucking idiot, how dumb could you -

Elijah broke through the screaming in his head – he took Mark’s arms in his hands, placed his cup on the side table, and pulled him in for a hug. “Mark,” his boss said, “you really had us worried.” He pulled the younger manager back, concern painted on his face. “Of course you aren’t fired, I don’t know why you’d think that of me,” he said, a moment so raw that Mark felt like he’d been sucker-punched. “You should’ve just told me you were so sick. So you could go and rest. I would’ve even let Matt go with you.” Elijah patted his knee then, and handed Mark back the mug. “It’s just a restaurant, Mark. You’re more important than service.”

Mark felt his eyes well up once again. Had anyone ever told him he was worth more than the work he did? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure, and that felt like an even harder gut-punch.

“I just…” he managed, wiping beneath his eyes. “I just didn’t wandt you to replace mbe. I’mb sorry for letting Mbatt get mbe sick.”

At this, Elijah actually laughed. “Mark,” he said, “you’re young. You’re in love; it comes with the territory. I was annoyed because Greyson and Matt are constantly getting everyone in that restaurant sick. I wasn’t trying to attack you.” He smiled then, a small and slightly sad smile. “I’m sorry if that’s how to came off.”

Mark didn’t know what to say; he felt awful, like he’d been hit by a semi, and he just wanted to sleep. See Matt. Apologize for being a dick. And sleep.

“Is Mbatt mad at mbe?” he croaked, pulling his legs into his chest. This time, Elijah actually laughed.

“I don’t think Matt knows how to be mad at you,” he said. “He’s just closing up the line; he was actually the one who brought you back here, but you were racked out so I said I’d come keep an eye on you till he got back.” Elijah shrugged, gave a little knowing smile. “He’ll be back soon. Okay? We don’t have to talk any more about this now. Just… try to sleep.” He patted Mark’s shoulder; a fatherly gesture from a man who claimed to know nothing about being a parent. “I’ll call Matt.”

Finally, finally, Mark conceded. He wanted to thank Elijah, or maybe apologize again, but he couldn’t make his mouth form words. Instead, he just nodded, grateful, and sank back into his pillow. He felt his eyes close, and allowed himself, for once, to let someone else take care of him.

He knew, maybe for the first time in his life, that he was safe.