#anyways i didn't write this the way i wanted to exactly but it's whatever

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

i know that when carlo suddenly decided that he needs to marry guy made a whole list in his head n like had a deadlines n shit. like it was some kind of a task he needed to do

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞'𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦

↳ summary: the x-men can't seem to leave you alone, even if you've made it clear that you want nothing to do with them. as a last-ditch effort, they send logan, who's a little different than the rest

↳ notes: man writing this fucked me up. i kept editing it because i didn't like how it sounded, so some feedback would be much appreciated

↳ warnings: mentions of blowing things up in a past instance, but no one died. reader is a mutant and their powers are kept ambiguous, but it is implied they can somehow cause explosions

↳ song: promiscuous—nelly furtado

masterlist | commissions | carrd

The first time they sent someone, you had been excepting it

You weren't dumb. You knew the difference between an innocent bystander and a hired gun; or at least something along those lines. The way people walked talked and carried themselves was always a dead giveaway, and recently you had been surrounded by a few too many intense stares and stiff shoulders for your liking. A lot more than you were used to, in fact. Maybe that's what prompted you to start taking a new way home from work instead of the usual combination of cross walks and dirty bus seats.

The quick guy with silver hair was their first attempt at contact. You had found him waiting outside your apartment for you to get home all but a week after noticing the new attention on you, and you would have ignored him too if it wasn't for the fact that he was sitting on the outside your balcony, kicking his feet merrily off the side about ten stories above the pavement below without a care in the world. And with what looked like a twinkie in his hand, too.

You'd closed the blinds without a second thought, tossing him a fake grin and a little wave when he eventually turned around as you slammed them shut. You were fairly certain he could have stopped you in no time flat, if the way you would watch him zip away in the blink of an eye later said anything, but you took a heat-of-the-moment gamble and were satisfied when all your efforts got was a whine from the other side of your window pane. His mouth was too full of pre-packaged pastry to say anything in the moment, you realized

"Not interested." You called over your back as you began to retreat into your kitchen without another moments notice.

"You haven't even heard what I want!" He said thickly, clearly trying to swallow as he spoke. You must have startled him a little then. Good.

"And I don't need to."

He left a few minutes later when his one sided conversationalist skills got him no where, and you responded by throwing a frozen pizza in the lower half of your oven.

You had been craving pepperoni all day anyway.

The second person try was a bit more aggressive.

They didn't have the decency to wait for you to come home this time. Instead, you found yourself looking up from your laptop as a chair was pulled out across from you at the quaint table you sat at. It made a scraping noise, and you tensed the muscles in your hands for a moment at the sound.

"Can I help you." Your eyebrow quirked up as you looked at the woman across from you. She had blonde hair, and what you thought were the brownest eyes you had even seen. You had trouble looking anywhere but into them for a second. When they hit the light, you swore they turned yellow just for a moment, and she looked about as annoyed as you were that she was sitting by you. You didn't have to wait long to find out why.

"We've been trying to reach you." The surrounding noise of the café hardly disturbed the hard tone in her voice. "You're avoiding us."

At least this time these people had the common sense to approach you in public. If you were any form of confrontational, which you very much weren't, you could have started a fight the last time. Who knows if you would have won against super speed and whatever else the first guy had— you weren't exactly sure about the extent of his powers, and at this point didn't care —but the point remains that some damage could have been done. Now, in the middle of a coffee shop on a busy afternoon, it would be a bit harder to start a fight. Not that you were seriously concidering it. If anything, you wanted to duck into a large crowd just to loose this new recruiter, or whatever they were called. You didn't exactly know if they had a name for this type of situation.

"I have no idea who you are." Your tone matched her own, dealing out the half lie nonchalantly. You weren't technically wrong, really. You didn't know her, nor did you know that other man that had shown up before. But you knew what they wanted, and you'd be damned if they didn't pin you down without a bit of a struggle.

Moving with a speed quick enough to get your message across, but not fast enough as to alert any of the surrounding coustomers that something was up, you closed your laptop, abandoned your now lukewarm drink, and started for the door. You only paused in your movements after a weight settled over the back of your shoulder, and you carefully turned your neck to look down at the hand resting firmly on you.

"I don't recommend doing that." You said with a bit of a warning tone in your voice, looking her right in the eyes as you did so. They had since shifted from dark brown to an almost hazel shade, and you filed that information away for later use.

Her grip remained where it was for a moment. Then a thought seemed to cross her mind, and she let go of her hold on your shirt; even if a bit reluctantly.

You didn't stick around to see if anything else would happen. You just made your way out of the shop and into the bustling street, not caring if she followed. They already knew where you lived anyway.

"Taxi!!"

The final person they sent for you, you hadn't seen coming.

Every other time— from the teleporting blue kid, to the woman with white hair and fair skin, and even the tall guy in glasses that had turned a little blue when you pushed your way past him —you had been able to prepare beforehand. At the very least you were able to lock your doors before going out and about your day. You knew that wouldn't stop them in the slightest, but it was a silent message to stay out of your business.

But this guy? This guy just didn't care at all.

"You know, you're really nailing this first impression thing."

A gruff voice sprang to life at the same moment that your hallway lights did, doing a fine job at catching you off guard. You managed to not jump, but with the way the intruders lips tilted up, you figured he knew he had surprised you.

"Oh, fuck my life."

You were really not feeling like another impromptu visit tonight. You had gotten home from a rough day of work a couple of hours ago, only to realize that you had finally blown through all your food, and was once more sent back out into the city to look for a grocery store. You had been looking forward to finally resting your feet, and maybe your eyes a few hours earlier than planned, and you most certainly weren't in the right state of mind to entertain this hulking figure of a man and the proposition that came with him.

You looked at him harshly. He had muscles for days, and a brown leather jacket to accentuate just how large he was. You knew for a fact that he was a few weight classes up from the last guy that had been sent to your house, and you wondered if this was their way of trying to intimidate you into forcefully accepting their offer.

Tiny scars dotted his face and the skin on his neck. You wondered why there were so few, considering that you already knew what he did for a living, but also knew better than to question someone like him. Especially since he was already standing in the doorway to your home, looking like he owned the place.

"Go away." You didn't grant him any sort of emotion in your voice as you walked in the direction of your fridge. The plastic bags full of your food for the week swung in your arms, and for a moment you thought this new guy was going to block your way into the rest of the house before he backed off with a roll of his shoulders.

You clocked his broad chest and bruised knuckles out of the corner of your eyes as you opened the ice box and slowly placed some frozen veggies in side by side. He had either gotten here straight from a fight, or was itching for one. You figured it was probably the former considering he hadn't jumped you the second you walked through the door. Or you know, maybe he just had fucked up hands. You could never tell with people at this point.

"You're pleasant." The mans wry smile was nothing but headache educing as you finished putting the cold groceries up. You snorted with hollow amusement.

"Try being stalked for a month and a half. It really makes you feel like being hospitable."

"Try being the guy that gets sent to get in contact with you. It ain't exactly the way I wanted to be spending my Friday night either." He parroted back your words while running a hand down his face and across what you had since recognized as mutton chops in the process.

"When are you going to tell that professor of yours that I'm not interested in his little passion project." You think that might have been the first time you ever directly acknowledged what exactly was going on. Every other time you had just told the other person to get lost or slammed a door in their face to really get the point across, but the way this guy was looking at you gave you the feeling that he wouldn't be as easy to shoo away as the others, and you weren't really feeling up for a giant display of effort right about now.

"You could always tell him yourself, bub." His eyes followed your face as you crossed the room to stop in front of him, hand outstretched with something that ignited a small smirk on his face.

"Trying to bribe me?" He asked, going to take the fresh beer you offered him all the same. You shook your head.

"No. My master plan actually consists of getting you shit-faced drunk so you guys will finally leave me alone." You watched as his hand hesitated in mid-air slightly, and you misinterpreted his silent amusement at your jab for skepticism. "I've just got too much beer and a stranger in my apartment that's not going to leave me alone anytime soon, that’s all." You relented with a shrug.

"Fair enough." He took the brown bottle by the neck and popped open the top without so much as looking around for a bottle opener. When the cap went rushing to the floor less than a second later, you squinted.

"What are you then? Super strong? Or is your power alcoholism." That got a rough chuckle out of him. He swallowed about half of the bottle in one go before answering, and you sucked at your teeth as he did so.

"Something like that."

"Wow. Really feeling the comradery here." You didn't miss the way he deadpanned at that, and you figured he was thinking about all of the times you had kicked every other pursuer to the curb without even letting them get a word in edge wise. Still, you pushed on. "Remind me how its fair that you and your friends know all about me, but I have a new hero-of-the-week showing up on my doorstep every other day without so much as a clue as to what they could do to me?"

"About as fair as your little accident in Colorado." He responded without a seconds hesitation. You felt a little perspiration form on the back of your neck, and chalked it up to the lack of a.c in the room. Even if it was anything but.

"If you're here to try and convince me to join your little superhero team, I hate to tell you, but it isn't going to work. Just like it didn't work the past ten times." You ignored his last comment and made yourself comfortable on your living room couch. "Do you have a name? I've never really stuck around to talk to one of you this long before, and it's annoying to keep rendering to you as 'some guy' in my head."

He paused abruptly while drinking the beer, and you barely held back from rolling your eyes at his change in mood.

"It's Logan." He finally bit out reluctantly. You got the feeling that the only reason he told you was because he was here by request. If it has been any other circumstances, you had no doubts that he would have told you to fuck off. He gave off that energy.

"You already know mine, so I'm not gonna bother." You kicked your feet up and let your head hit the back of the couch with a sigh. "Just let me know when you finally get bored and head out. I want to make sure my landlord knows to blacklist you from the building after you're gone."

"Is this how you got everyone else to leave? By annoying them to death?" Logan sounded more entertained then you would have liked, and you blamed it on the beer.

"Depends. Is it working?"

"I've been sleeping at a school filled with screaming kids for the past few weeks. You're going to have to try harder than that to get me out of here." He took another swig.

"What will it take to get you to leave me alone. All of you." Your voice dipped out of it's usually casual tone for a more annoyed one. You were used to playing the long game when it came to getting people to leave you alone, but at this point it was getting ridiculous with the amount of people that they were throwing at you, and it was starting to wear you out. You weren't sure if Logan could tell your patience was being tested, and you weren't sure if you wanted him to.

Logan raised one eyebrow in your direction as an answer to your question, and you sighed.

"I'm not taking a stupid fucking spot on the X-Men if that's what you're implying. What do I have to do to convince you guys that I'm not up for it; blow up a building on accident or something?" The word 'again' went unsaid, but the implication was there.

You watched as Logan seemed to throw something around in his mind for a moment.

"Do you want to know why I joined the X-Men?" He eventually asked.

"Because you had nothing else to do with yourself other than styling your hair real stupid? Seriously what's with this horn thing you've got going in."

"I joined because they helped pull me off a dark path, kid." He barreled past your sarcasm, shutting you down quicker than you would like to admit. His tone was laced with something you recognized all as hatred, and you knew it wasn't directed at you, but rather himself. You knew the feeling all too well.

"I was running from something that I didn't even know I was trying to avoid." He continued. "And if it wasn't for the Professor and his 'stupid fucking team', I wouldn't have ever stopped."

For the first time in the past few minutes, you allowed one of your walls to come down as he spoke. You stared at him with a tired look lingering behind your gaze, choosing this time to listen rather than to ignore.

"I'm not running from anything." Even as you said it, you knew it was a lie. Logan didn't even have to look at you for you to sigh and lean forward again.

"I can see why the Professor wants you on the team." You felt the cushions on the opposite end of your couch dip slowly as he sat down. The now empty beer bottle was still in his hand, but as you looked over at Logan, you found his eyes filled to the brim with nothing but the honest truth.

It was a strange, tense moment. Both you and Logan could admit that. You were clearly filled with regret for your past actions, no matter how accidental they might have been, and conflicted with yourself because of it. Logan could do nothing more but watch as you battled with yourself over his words. His original plan had been to come here, show off a claw or two if needed, and bring you back to the school with a characteristic scowl on his face. But all that was thrown out the window when you offered him a beer, and when he was finally able to get a good look at you.

You looked exactly how he used to before one of his old cage matches. Detached and losing yourself. He could see it in your eyes.

The room delved into silence. You wrung your hands together and planted your feet. Logan watched as you seemed to have a silent conversation with yourself, and he began to regret not pacing himself with the beer. He wasn't anywhere near affected by the alcohol, that's to say. He just wished he had something to do other than sit in your home with squared shoulders and a furrowed brow.

"If I took one trip over to the place, would you guys let up on whatever this is?" You finally asked. Logan pushed down a faint smirk as you turned your neck to look at him.

"Sure."

You didn't say anything else, and you didn't have to. You got up without another word and grabbed a bag from a nearby closet. Logan found himself leaning on your doorframe as you stuffed a few essentials down into your travel bag in the room over, and he remained there until you finished.

"Still curious about my powers?" Logan decided to bait you just a little further as you shut the door to your apartment with a click of your keys, and he had trouble keeping a straight face when you looked back at him with curiosity dancing across your features.

Without saying anything, he held one of his hands up, and let you watch as his trademark claws popped up slowly. Like seasonal weeds in a garden full of flowers. The appendages let out a slight sliding noise as they did so, and you blinked once. Twice. Three times.

"And I thought my powers were bad." You finally said after a moment, and Logan scoffed at you.

"Kid, everyone thinks their powers are bad at first."

You seemed to take that as a challenge, and Logan watched as a bit of that fire that he'd heard about from Storm and the others flared up in you.

"Yeah? You ever accidently blow up a boiler room and take out half your high school's classes, big guy?" Your grin was all teeth as the two of you made your way down the complex hallway. Logan slowed his pace so you could keep up, and turned around so he could fully look at you as he walked backwards.

"Big guy?" He questioned you with a tilted of his head, looking about as unimpressed as he could.

"I mean yeah." You snickered. "Just look at your, well, everything." You took to gesturing at his entire being, something that got you a huff from the other man.

"Maybe you're just small." He shot back. You laughed and shook your head, looking down at yourself. Yeah right.

"And maybe I'm right, and you're just freakishly big."

Your banter continued all the way down to the elevator, where you had a hard time holding in your laughter as Logan accidentally almost stabbed the down button with his claws, apparently having forgotten that they were even out.

You couldn't help but wonder if he was always like this; if everyone at the school was like this.

Maybe going for a visit wasn't as much as a bad idea as you'd thought.

[mariasont]

not sure if you’re planning to write this, but smut with spencer & bimbo!receptionist!reader would probably fix my problems 😔 i feel like spencer would be praising her nonstop, while also being condescending & i fucking live for that‼️

Undo You - S.R

a/n: i love ur mind anon 😚 i hope this lives up to what you want ����🏼🫶🏼✨ thank you for requesting xoxo

anyway i kinda think this is bad bc i didn’t proofread but whatever ill prob go back and edit laters!

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

summary: bimbo reader and spencer doing the nasty

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fingering, degrading? (not really), spencer being slightly condescending, p in v, unprotected sex (BE BETTER!), creampie (STOP I HATE IT TOO BUT WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO CALL IT?!?!?! TWINKIE?!?!)

wc: 1.3k

Mustering the courage to ask you out was a feat in itself but getting you into his bed was a whole other ballgame. But here you were, fingers roaming through his hair and tracing the contours of his back. You were perfect, and you were in his bed.

The wasn't the first, nor would it be the last if he had anything to do with it. It's hard to fathom his good luck--to have you, breathtaking in every sense, under him, your fingertips gently grazing his waist band as you inch towards his cock.

Your makeup was almost artfully messy, with mascara delicately pooled beneath your lashes, rendering you devastatingly tempting. You had glittering eyeshadow on, and it was getting everywhere. Spencer felt the urge to undo you--to disrupt the pristine image you presented to the world, to make you uniquely his. Selfish? Without a doubt. But that didn't diminish the idea. 

Your hands, with their perfect manicure, were now wrapped around his cock, tugging and pulling as if your palms were sculpted precisely for this purpose. 

You were saying something, your lips a mesmerizing motion as he grasped the sheets beside you, each fistful a concerted effort to remain control.

"What, angel?" He was trying to be patient with you.

You talked a lot in general, but in bed, it only seemed to amplify. This was not a bad thing, not in his eyes, no, it was almost too much of a good thing. Each time your mouth opened and closed with another airy comment he found himself that much closer to spilling his load all over you.

"Your face is really red," you breathed out, nostrils flaring slightly, your eyes averted, engrossed in the sight of his length enclosed between your hands.

He stifled a laugh, resisting the urge to shove his cock into that pretty mouth of yours.

"Well, you see," Spencer starts, pausing as your hand presses to the tip of his length, "when someone is excited...or aroused, blood flow increases to the f-face, causing...vasodilation. It's... it's a sympathetic nervous system response."

"Oh, like when you get all red after running?" You tilt your head in that curious way of yours, your actions uninterrupted as words flowed from you.

"Yes, exactly like that."

He grabbed your hand, pulling you off of him and pressing that same hand to the mattress below him.

"And just like my face gets red, your pupils dilate when you're excited," Spencer explains, his hand poised just above your collarbone, sketching paths on your skin, "It's due to the release of norepinephrine, which is part of your body's fight of flight response."

Your lips were parted, pressing your body into him like you couldn't help yourself, hips squirming under his.

"So, what's the verdict, sweet girl?" Spencer asks, watching your gaze met his, lips parting as he dragged a hand over your clothed heat. "What's your body telling you? Fight of flight?"

You kissed him, gasping into his mouth as he pushed a finger into you. You were drenched. "Is submit an option?"

"That's my girl," he said, feeling his cock tighten even more, as if that were possible, almost moaning at the sight of your dimple being drawn out.

You whined, arching your back against the navy-blue sheets as your hands locked around his neck, pulling him impossibly close. He could smell everything about you from here—your coconut shampoo, your vanilla perfume, your lavender lotion. He wanted to inhale it, to inhale you.

He didn't even bother with your skirt, simply pulling your panties out from under it and lining himself up with your entrance. He watched, enthralled, as your chest rose and fell, holding your breath as you braced for his cock. You were so good for him, too good for him.

One hand clasped against your hip as the other guided his length into you, hissing as you tightened around him. It was a feeling that could never get old, like he was being reborn, like the world was ending and you and him were the only two people left. He would be fine with that.

Your face twisted up in pleasure as you began to rock against him, not giving yourself that chance to adjust. You did this often and it caused him to push down on your hips, stopping your movements. He could come if you kept doing that. He would.

"Patience," he hissed, but you were never one that was good with following orders.

You moved again, tits bouncing up and down your chest as you did. He stifled a groan, meeting your movements with thrusts of his own.

He imagined this is what Buddhists meant when they referred to finding the garden of Nirvana. This was it for him. The ultimate state of liberation and profound peace.

You were a blubbering mess, fingertips clawing down his back, surely to leave marks, but he couldn’t care less.

“Look at you,” he cooed, rutting his cock in and out of you. “You’re awfully quiet. Got something on your mind, baby?”

“N-No,” you stammered, legs wrapping around his waist as your arms went around his neck, clinging to him like a koala, your moans now pressed up against his ear.

“I figured as much.”

Your tits were flush against his chest, his breath stalling as he reached in the limited space between you, thumb circling your clit. Your whines intensified, just as his thrusts did.

“Spencer, please, yes, oh fuck—,” you paused, a gasp releasing from your lips as he felt you unravel on his cock, your wet cunt clenching around him in a way that made his legs shake.

“That’s it, sweetheart, just like that.” His movements were more desperate now, sloppily slamming into you without mercy. “You’re so fucking good, baby.”

He barely recognized your lips against his ear. “Will you come inside me please?”

That was all it took, those simple words, brushing against his skin and rushing all the way down to his cock. His thrusts slowing as he pumped himself inside you, the sound completely obscene, but it just made him enjoy it that much more.

You were limp against the bed, and Spencer was quick to follow, face finding the crook of his neck as he tried his best not to crush you with his weight.

He could feel your pulse against his lips, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses into your honey induced skin as he waited for you to return back to planet Earth.

He was well aware of the drill, pressing one last kiss to your sweaty forehead before prying himself out of your hands and making a beeline for the bathroom. He grabbed a towel and a glass of water before coming back to the bed, nearly fainting at your tired smile shining at him, at him.

“Hi, gorgeous.”

“I really love when you call me that,” you said, almost dreamily as you pushed your tousled hair into the pillow.

He laughed, placing the water on the table and moving your legs so he was between them.

“Gorgeous,” he repeated as he dabbed the towel to your sex, cleaning the mess he made on you. “Do I not call you that enough? Because I can certainly make it a more regular occurrence.”

“Well, I mean, it couldn’t hurt,” you said, giggling as you flinched away from the pressure on your clit.

He pushed your leg down, preventing you from squirming. “Let me clean you up.”

You pouted, and he had the sudden urge to bite your bottom lip. You gave him a salute, giggling before you could even get the words out. “Aye, aye captain.”

He tossed the towel to the side, climbing up your legs as he kissed you, soft and slow, murmuring into your lips, “come here, smart ass.”

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf

[cressidagrey]

Stars all aligned - Chapter 1

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

Bashing of like...every IC member? I think Rhys gets the worst though, definitely disordered eating, kinda depression?, isolation

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

He found her deep inside the House of Wind. Far enough from the festivities of Starfall that it was startling to find her.

The second oldest Archeron Sister must have wandered off just like he had.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” Azriel asked her as he spied her sitting in a puddle of her skirts on one of the couches, staring at the empty fireplace.

“Why aren’t you?” Zahra gave back drily, not even looking up at him.

What exactly was he supposed to answer to that? Oh, I can't stomach watching your sister dance with her mate? And even if I could stomach that, Rhys's mental commentary to him about it had turned his stomach. Even when Azriel had kept away from Elain just like Rhysand had ordered him to do, ever since last year. So really...what was he supposed to answer?

“Dancing isn’t exactly my favourite activity,” Azriel finally replied. It wasn’t a lie. 

"Yeah, well, mine neither," she answered with a shrug. "Not that I ever learned."

"You never learned?" he asked surprised. Nesta had learned. Elain had learned.

"Bastard, remember?" Zahra said drily. "I am lucky that I got to learn how to read and write and do basic math. I was not going to be molded into a perfect lady, because no self-respecting man would marry me anyway."

The blunt way Zahra was talking stunned Azriel momentarily. There was something harsh, something almost...bitter and resentful in her voice as she spoke.

It seemed like it didn't matter if one was born a bastard in Illyria or the Human lands. It was horrible either way.

"Your sisters will miss you," he said instead quietly. "And you'll miss the spectacle."

"I don't really care for the festivities," she said with another shrug. "I don’t like the holidays. Humans don’t have any. We… they are too busy trying to survive," Zahra corrected herself quietly. "And besides, I am only here anyway so I don't end up being an indentured servant until some of you decide that I am back in your good graces,” she gave back caustically.

He grimaced. That Zahra had vehemently disagreed about their treatment of Nesta was well known.

It had surprised him too because it was just as just as well known that Nesta seemed to not care for her half-sister on a good day. They weren't particularly close, in any way, shape or form.

Something in his chest clenched painfully. Not from the insult she threw in his direction, but from the defeated way she said it. That she thought that they would just…toss her aside like that.

She was one of them.

"We won't," he said firmly. Her eyes slowly turned toward him and there were dark shadows in those eyes. Out of all the Archeron Sisters, she was the only one with green eyes. Azriel wondered if she had inherited them from her late mother.

Zahra was only the half-sister after all. The result of her father’s dalliance with a maid. Her age put her somewhere between Nesta and Elain. 

It was easy enough to pick out the differences between Nesta, Elain and Feyre and Zahra. Dark hair similar to Elain’s, but green eyes. Skin a few shades darker than any of theirs. Lips that looked like Feyre’s but a nose that looked like none of her sisters. 

Zahra seemed to belong but didn’t. 

And right now, these green eyes…something was wrong. Something was off with these eyes. 

"You don’t know that," she said with a humourless laugh. "Do you want to lie to me too, and  tell me that Rhysand has nothing to do with whatever happened between Elain and you?"

Azriel stiffened, a low sound escaping his throat. She knew. She knew.

"How did you-" he croaked hoarsely and Zahra cocked an eyebrow at him.

 "Do you really think that I hadn't noticed the two of you dancing around each other for months? Or the fact that you two can barely manage to be in the same room together?" she asked dryly and Azriel averted his gaze.  "There is no one as beautiful and kind as my sister," Zahra said drily. "I don't fault you for falling for her."

Azriel said nothing, the pain in his chest growing at her words. The pain...and the bitter realization that his feelings were not as well-hidden as he had thought they were. 

"It doesn't matter," he said quietly. "She has a mate. She deserves better than me anyway."

"Did Rhysand tell you that too?" Zahra said drily. "You never tried to hide the fact that your mate was dying from the same, so you have that on him."

Azriel gritted his teeth, the pain in his chest becoming almost unbearable. "It doesn’t matter," he repeated firmly, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "Elain is happy. I would do nothing to put that in danger." 

"Yes, she is," Zahra agreed. "For what it's worth, I am sorry," she apologised to him, her voice honest.

Azriel swallowed, the pain in his chest lessening only to be replaced by something else. Something...much more complicated. Something like…pity.

He pitied her. This young female was so full of bitterness. He couldn’t even fault her for it either. She had been just a bastard. Even when they had first met the Archeron Sisters…Zahra had been working in the household as a maid. Half employee, half part of the family. Like their father couldn’t make up his mind what he should do with his bastard daughter. 

"You don't have anything to apologise for," Azriel finally told her quietly. "Do you really not want to watch?" he asked her. "You are supposed to wish for something when you see the stars fall."

She snorted, the sound bitter. "What I want, I am never going to get," Zahra said, her voice brittle.

He took her in in more detail at that moment.

The simple green gown she wore, high necked and long sleeved...that long gown that did little to hide how thing she was. The dark brown hair, pulled into a braid, obviously trying to hide the pointed tips of her ears and failing...the way her skin, darker than all of her sisters, was nearly ashen.

They had all thought that she was doing well. That Zahra at least was adjusting well.

But she wasn't. She wasn’t doing better.  She hadn't adjusted. Azriel would bet anything that all she wanted in her life was to be human again.

She hadn't adjusted. She just acted in a way that didn't bother anybody, that didn’t spell trouble for anybody.  Zahra had gotten herself a job, managing the accounting at an apothecary in the city.  She had gotten herself a little cottage to rent. She didn’t go out and get drunk. She didn’t use any money from Rhys or Feyre. She showed up for family dinners, staying quiet and polite. 

And if she was miserable…well, then nobody cared, because she didn’t bother anybody. Azriel could understand that. The same was the case for him.

Azriel clenched his jaw, watching her quietly sitting here. The way she was trying to hide away. The dress that was more like a potato sack than anything else. The way her skin was almost...grey. That bitter voice. 

The shadows were stirring and he was unable to look away from her. She looks upset, Master, they told him helpfully. 

"Do you want to go home?" Azriel offered quietly. Home to her cottage? Maybe some peace and quiet would make her feel better. 

Zahra shrugged, not looking at him. Not giving him an inch. That wall of bitterness and sarcasm was so firmly in place, that it was practically a solid wall between them. 

“Don’t want to end like an indentured servant, remember?“ she quipped drily.

“You won’t,“ Azriel said evenly. “You had a headache. I brought you home.“

She still didn’t look at him, her hands tightly knotted into her skirts as she sat there. She was so thin, almost fragile-looking. Her skin was sickly grey. “Come on,” he said finally, walking towards her.

Zahra finally looked up at him. Those green eyes. A bitter and lonely light in them. “What are you doing?“ she muttered. 

“I’m bringing you home,” he said simply, holding out his hand. “Come on, get up.“

Zahra looked at his hand, her gaze wary. “Why?“ she asked quietly. 

“Because you look like you are about to keel over,” he said, more bluntly than intended. 

“Gee, thanks,” she said dryly, her voice sarcastic and bitter. But she placed her hand into his own and let him pull her to her feet, even though he could feel the tension in her entire body. 

Azriel wrapped his arm around her shoulders, steadying her. “Come on. Let’s get you home and into bed,” he said firmly. 

He led her towards the balcony, the last few streaks of light painting the sky, and he grasped her tightly as they shout these few feet into the air until he could winnow to the cottage she rented. 

It’s ugly, the shadows complained. 

He had to agree with them. The cottage was an ugly little thing. Plain. Small. The type of thing that was more of a hovel in the outskirts, rather than anything else. 

“Home sweet home,“ Zahra said dryly, pulling away from him and a key out of her purse. 

That cottage was in serious need of some renovations when the red paint that was flaking off the door was anything to go by. 

As she unlocked the door it became obvious that while she kept it clean and neat.. even that couldn’t help much. This is a hovel, the shadows hissed.

Azriel was inclined to agree. He looked around with a frown, as the shadows scuttered around the tiny cottage. “You live here?“ he couldn’t help but ask. It was a terrible hovel indeed. 

Zahra shrugged as if she didn’t notice the disgust in his voice. “I couldn’t exactly afford anything else at first,” she said drily. 

At least not without taking any money from Rhys and Feyre, and clearly that was nothing that Zahra wanted to do. 

He was struck by how empty it all looked. There was a small kitchen space, a table with a few chairs a fireplace… And the door that led to her bedroom, he assumed. 

“How long have you lived here?“ he asked carefully, taking in the bare emptiness. There were no pictures on the walls. No trinkets and little belongings anywhere. It was…lifeless. She shrugged again and kicked off her shoes, making her way towards the bedroom. “A year?“

The room was equally simple and bare. A bed, a few clothes. A little bathing chamber. That was it. 

“You’ve lived here for over a year?“ Azriel repeated, his voice turning sharp as he looked at everything. There wasn’t even a mirror on the wall. 

When she just shrugged again, he was done. He grabbed her arm and towed her back into the main room. “Stay,” he ordered, pointing at the table and one of the two rickety chairs. 

“What are you doing?“ Zahra asked, raising both eyebrows at him. Her irritation had started to rise considerably. At least that had done something to the sickly colour of her skin. 

“Making sure you eat something before you pass out on me,” Azriel muttered, turning back into the kitchen area, looking around with a frown.

There was…nothing. His shadows reported as much. She literally had a few pieces of bread and some cheese in the whole house. He was more than fuming. That was not enough that she was living in…this hovel, she was apparently also starving herself.

He pointed at the chair again. “Sit,” he ordered a little sharper than he had intended. 

The glare she gave him did not surprise him. Zahra hated being ordered around. “No,” she said firmly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not hungry.“

Azriel clenched his jaw, the anger flaring. How stubborn could she be? 

“You clearly haven’t eaten in days,” he said, pointing out the obvious. “You have nothing in your house to eat.” 

“I have what I need,” she retorted, her own anger flaring. Azriel gritted his teeth, the urge to snap at her almost overwhelming.

“You are skin and bones,” he hissed. “There is barely enough fat on you to keep out the cold.“ 

“Why do you care?“ she snapped right back.

The question hit him squarely in the chest. Why did he care? Why, he asked himself for a moment. Why indeed.

He wasn’t going to lie to himself and say that it was just because she was Feyre’s sister. 

Thankfully, Azriel was saved from actually having to answer, when her stomach grumbled.

Loudly. Azriel almost chuckled at the sound of her own stomach betraying just how hungry she really was. “Clearly your body disagrees with you,” he said drily. 

“Shut up,” Zahra snapped, her skin flushing at the sound of her own stomach. 

“I will shut up after you’ve eaten something,” Azriel said firmly, folding his arms across his chest.

Zahra gave him a glare that could strip the paint from the walls, (but then, the paint was already flaking off anyway). Still, she grudgingly sank down on the chair, her eyes avoiding his. 

He turned back into the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers and found absolutely nothing. There was nothing. Not even some fruits or vegetables. 

He slammed the last cupboard closed, almost causing the hinges to break, the anger flaring hotly in his chest. That stupid, stubborn, stubborn woman.

“I will personally come here every day and stuff you full until you burst,” he snapped before he could stop himself.

“Why?” she asked and he could hear the challenge in her voice. Her own anger rose to meet his own. “Why would you even bother?“ 

“Because you are starving yourself,” he said, spinning around to face her. “Because you are so thin, I could snap you in half with one hand. Because I’m pretty damn sure you haven’t eaten a proper meal in at least a year. That’s why.“

“Maybe I don’t deserve a proper meal,” she shot back and something inside of him snapped at the tone in her voice. 

Because he knew that feeling. He knew. For just a moment he froze. They were far more similar than they should be. 

It was a terrible realization. He knew what the self-hatred and bitterness was like. He understood it far better than he wanted to.

“Nobody is going to suddenly show up and care,” he told her quietly. He saw her eyes flare at the words and he knew she got the meaning behind them instantly.

She sat there, her jaw tensed. “And what do you know about it?” she snapped, her voice bitter. 

“I know what it feels like to starve oneself,” he said calmly. “I know what it feels like to have not a single person notice or care.“

The words rang truer than they should. Her eyes widened for a moment, shock flashing through her. 

“I know what it feels like to be the one be always at the edge of the family. I know what it feels like for everybody around me to meet their mate but not me.“

The words slipped out before he could stop them. The pain he had buried so deep, deep down flaring up. The pain and loneliness and bitter realization that would never have what everyone else had.

He realized only then how much they really had in common. How similar they were. 

“I know what it feels like to be the afterthought,” he continued, unable to stop now. “I know how it feels to be shoved aside. I know how it feels to watch everyone around me find someone while I’m the one left behind.“ 

He took a step closer to where she was sitting, towering over her. “And I know how it feels to hate myself enough to deny myself the basic needs I actually have.“ 

The last words made her flinch. He was so close he could almost see the pain and guilt and bitter realization flit across her face. Her eyes were on her lap, her fingers wrapped around the edge of the table. 

“I know what it feels like to feel as if I don’t deserve to eat,” he said quietly. “Because I’m not good enough. Not worthy enough. Not deserving enough.“

He knelt down in front of her, forcing her to look at him. To meet his eyes. 

She tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let her. He wanted her to see. To understand that she wasn’t as alone as she thought. “I know what it feels like to punish myself by not giving myself what I actually need,” he said quietly. 

Her breath hitched at the last words, her eyes widening ever so slightly. She was listening. Really listening to what he said.

“You’re not the only one who hates yourself, you know,” he said quietly. The look in her eyes shattered him. The look of realisation. Of bitter understanding. The realization that they were so much more similar than either of them had thought before.

Zahra bit her lip, the guilt flashing across her face. Her hands started trembling, ever so slightly.

“You don’t deserve to go hungry,” he said quietly, his voice firm and quiet. “You don’t deserve to starve yourself. You don’t deserve to live in this… hovel.

“The cauldron should just have killed me,” Zara said her voice brittle. “I don’t like this life.”

And didn’t that break his fucking heart? 

She laughed bitterly, but there was no humour in it. “I’m not even surviving,” she said, a bitter smile on her thin lips. “I’m existing. There is a difference.“ 

The words hit him hard. She was right. She didn’t survive, she just existed. There was a difference and a huge one at that. “Then stop just existing,” he said quietly.

His hand was still cupping her cheek, his thumb stroking gently over her skin. 

“Says the guy that just keeps moping around,” she quipped.

It was a low blow but also true. Azriel’s jaw tensed at the comment. “I don’t mope,” he bit. “I just..“

He didn’t really have a good argument in his defence at the moment. 

He sighed. “We should both stop rotting away,” he said drily.

“Yeah, well, that’s easy to you to say,” Zahra said and he could hear the bitterness in her voice. 

“Eat your cheese,” he responded.

She rolled her eyes and snatched away the slice of cheese off the table. “Happy now?“ she muttered. 

“Delighted,” he gave back drily, as he moved towards her fireplace.

“You don’t need to do that,” Zahra said quietly. “I can do that.”

“Considering you’ve been too starved to think straight, you are going to let me do this,” Azriel cut across her calmly. “You are more than likely to burn yourself.” 

“Don’t the flames bother you?” She asked him quietly. He froze.

Nobody else had ever asked him. They had just expected him to be over it by now. He had 500 years to be over it. His hands clenched.

“Yes,” he answered quietly. “They still do.” It was the honest truth. A truth he never told anyone before, least of all someone like her. The shadows curled around his shoulders and arms as if to calm him down. The flames still bothered him. They always would. “But I learnt to deal with it a long time ago,” he continued.

“That’s not fair to you,” Zahra said, her voice quiet. “You are always the one in discomfort. And nobody cares.”

Her words hit him square in the gut. It was true. It was painfully true. He was always the one being uncomfortable. Always the one on edge. It had always been expected of him to be over it by now, the pain and the hurt. The fear and the bitterness. 

He finished building the fire. Using a match to light it carefully, then closing the door quickly.

“I can deal with it,” he answered quietly. “You should go to sleep,” he advised her.

“So should you,” Zahra told him just as quietly. “You look terrible.“ He knew he looked like crap. But that didn’t matter. 

“I’m fine,” he muttered, brushing off her comment. Even though he knew it was a lie. Even though he knew they were both terrible at taking care of themselves. 

“You are a terrible liar,” she quipped. He looked at her and was surprised to see a tiny smile on her face. 

“And you’re a very stubborn, very stupid, very annoying woman,” he quipped back just as quietly. 

The smile on her face broadened the tiniest bit at the comment. “I could say the same about you,” she shot back. 

“Sleep,” he told her again.

And then he left that little cottage to get back to the House of Wind. He didn’t bother winnowing, instead, he shot up into the sky with one flap of his mighty wings. He wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.

His mind was whirling as he flew back to the House of Wind. So much had happened in the last few hours and it was all still a lot to process.

He had always been good at keeping a rein on his thoughts and his emotions. But this time, he simply couldn’t. 

Zahra and him, always on the outskirts of their family. Ignored and expected to get on with it.

They were so similar in so many ways. It was shocking to realize just how much they actually had in common.

The loneliness and solitude he had come to live with, she had experienced herself. The pain and the bitterness, he could recognize it on her, for he had felt it himself. 

Where are you, Az? Rhys demanded at that moment mentally. Azriel would like to scratch out his eyes, but he didn’t.

I’m flying back to the House, he sent back curtly. Zahra had a headache, so I brought her home.

A headache, Rhys shot back incredulously. Azriel could almost see the look on his High Lord’s face. You really think I will buy that?

I don’t care if you believe me or not, Azriel responded icily, his temper rising already at the tone. It is the truth and I really don’t wish to have a discussion over it.

There was a pause in Rhys’ mind. Then a slight huff. You can be so unbelievably stubborn sometimes, you know that?

Azriel didn’t bother reacting to that.

Elain and Lucien are figuring things out. So keep away from her, Rhys told him sharply.

I am keeping away from her, Azriel shot back, irritation flaring. You really think I will go and ruin this for her?

I don’t know what you are up to, Rhys retorted, and Azriel knew the High Lord was irritated. But I really don’t have the time to deal with your crap right now. That’s an order.

Understood, High Lord, Azriel snarled back and he felt Rhys chuckle in his mind at the tone. I will keep away from your precious Elain, I promise. 

Damn right you will, he heard Rhys mutter in his mind and the mental connection between the two of them snapped close. 

Azriel snarled in irritation as he landed on his balcony and stalked into his room. It wasn’t enough that he was wrestling with his own emotions, No, he also had Rhys all up his ass about it. 

And he was infuriated about the whole thing.

Nobody will suddenly show up and care, he has told Zahra. It was the truth. Nobody would care.

They only cared as long as they got what they wanted from him.

Chip away the pieces they didn’t like. Mould him into a person they could stomach. 

Either it was Rhys ordering to keep away from Elain…or ordering him to behave around Mor and Emerie… and to be quite honest…Azriel was done.

It was always him that needed to bend to make everybody else comfortable. Nobody bends for him.

So many years of following orders, of keeping his mouth shut, of bottling up the anger.

Even when everyone around him was getting what they wanted. They got their happily ever after. And he was left behind.  Not once did someone ever realize that he was struggling. Not once did someone notice that he needed something…anything. That he was hurting and in pain. Nobody even bothered to check on him, to ask how he was doing. 

They all got what they wanted. Mor, Emerie, even Feyre. They all got the mate that they wanted. Rhys, Cassian and even Amren had Varian. 

He was the one always helping everyone else. Always the one having to endure everything. Never anything for himself. No love for himself.

Orders, commands, demands…that’s all it ever was. He didn’t get a say in anything. They just expected him to be fine. And if he wasn’t…he had to push through it. 

He was the tool that did whatever needed to be done. The spy that got the order to do the dirty work. The shadowsinger that just had to endure everything. 

All for scraps of attention.

Azriel was done.

He was so done. With everything. With everyone. With the one-sided affection that he had given in a desperate attempt to feel…something, anything…. 

He needed to stop expecting to get anything from them.

Zahra did not. She seemed to have given that up a very long time ago

The cold realization that they had been doing the same to her hit him. She was also the tool they used when they needed it. She may not be a spy, but they used her just the same. Expected her to be fine. 

She was alone just as much as he was. 

Alone and isolated, an afterthought to their family just as much as he was. 

***

It was quiet in the little cottage. 

Peaceful. 

Comfortable.

Sie should be happy. Or at the very least…she should be content, should she not?.

Zahra had a roof over her head. And if she wanted to…she could afford food.

Her job didn’t pay that well, but it wouldn’t leave her starving. She just wasn’t hungry. She seemingly never was.

That was a lie and she knew it. Deep down she was hungry all the time. She just refused to give in to eating. She refused to listen to her body screaming for sustenance. It didn’t matter, anyway. Nobody cared.

She didn’t care.

Something inside her had broken during her bath in that cauldron. Her humanity had burned away and with that…with that everything Zahra had ever wanted.

She didn’t crave anything anymore. Not love. Not affection. Not attention. Not food. It was all gone. All she felt was numb. 

Cold, empty and numb. Like her shell had hardened and frozen over.

She had never thought it was possible to feel so damn tired without having done anything. 

Zahra forced herself to get up. Forced herself to heat some water on the stove… to make tea. The cheapest tea she had been able to find at the market.

It wasn’t the best. The taste was bitter and the color was more brown than black. But it was tea and she was thirsty enough to drink it.

It wasn’t very warm and left a bitter aftertaste on the tongue. Like her life itself. 

Maybe just dying would have been easier, she reflected bitterly. Was this how eternity would feel? Alone? Tucked away in this cottage? 

All her sisters had been given a mating bond. They had been given another person who loved them unconditionally…that was at their side. That wanted them around. That wanted to spent time with them. 

And then there was her. 

She had been closest to Feyre during the years in that cottage. Nesta gave her the fault for seemingly everything htat had ever gone wrong in her life, though Zahra privately thought that for Nesta, Zahra was just the evidence of another of her father’s failings…Elain…well, Elain was more embarrassed than anything about Zahra’s very existence. But Feyre…well, Feyre hadn’t cared. And so Zahra had tried to dote on her as much as she could. 

And then clearly she had been replaced in Feyre’s affections. 

She didn’t fault her for that. 

Feyre had made her own life. And she had every right to do that. She was busy with her mate and her son and Mor was her best friend and…there was seemingly no place for Zahra there. 

Which was fine. 

It was. 

But if Zahra was completely honest with herself…she was unspeakably jealous of the mating bond of every single one of her sisters. 

Of that promise of at least one person that would be on her side, come Hel or High Water. 

Clearly, something was wrong with her that she hadn’t been given a Mating Bond.

She wasn’t worth a mate. Clearly, something was broken inside her. Otherwise, the cauldron would have given her a mate, right? 

Maybe she was broken so thoroughly that nobody even wanted her. 

Why would they? She was a shell of a person, a ghost of the woman she was supposed to be.

She was cold, empty and numb. Everything that nobody could possibly want. 

Everyone else got a mate, love and happiness. Not her.

She had nothing.

Her hands clenched around her lukewarm cup of tea. 

Some random sparks of light sparked against the mug. A gift from the cauldron. They didn’t seem to do anything but warm whatever they touched. Maybe that was that random power the cauldron had given her. Neither future or death…but…warmth. She supposed it was something.

She wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, and she had never bothered telling anybody about it. 

Sometimes she allowed herself to play with them when she couldn’t sleep. They were strange and utterly useless. 

It wasn’t the power of foresight or the power of a death god…no. She had the stupid power to create sparks. Useless sparks of light. 

Oh well. 

Complaining about her sparks wasn’t going to help her either. 

So she pulled out her work and sat down to do her work as the sun came up and the day went on. 

Zahra balanced the account ledgers for one of the apothecaries in Velaris. Which meant she had a whole box of receipts to sort through and put into said ledger.

One receipt at a time, one name after the other. 

It kept her busy. It paid well enough. She seemed to have some kind of aptitude for it…maybe the fact that her father was a merchant had come through for once. 

She worked until the late evening. Until her eyes couldn’t concentrate on the numbers anymore.Until her back and shoulders ached with pain. She stretched her shoulders back. 

She wondered if she should eat something. Her cheese was gone, thanks to Azriel standing over her until she ate it…but she still had one or two slices of bread, didn’t she? 

She could go food shopping…buy another bread, another chunk of cheese tomorrow. 

Then Zahra heard a knock on the door. 

Confusion spread through her. Who would knock on her door at that very late hour? It was after 9 pm already. 

She got up, walked towards the door and opened it carefully.

It was the last person she would expected to be standing on the front porch. Azriel. 

“I am making you dinner.“

Her eyes widened at that announcement. “You are what?” she asked him dumbly. 

He just gave her a deadpan look and pushed past her. “I am cooking dinner because I am assuming that you haven’t eaten yet,” he told her plainly. 

It was true. Zahra hadn’t eaten a proper meal in god knows how long. But why did he care?? “Why?” she blurted out. “Why do you care if I’ve eaten?” 

He gave her a sharp look and pushed her towards the kitchen chair. “Sit down,” he simply ordered and she was too taken aback to protest against it. 

He had brought his own ingredients. His own knives, all tucked away in a little basket that he put on her countertop. “Can you peel potatoes?” He asked her as he rummaged through it. 

She could just stare at him. 

“Who do you think cooked the meat Feyre hunted?” Zahra replied drily.

Azriel froze in the process of digging something out of the basket on the counter. “You can cook?” he asked her and she heard the surprise in his voice. 

Zahra let out a snort. “Yes, I can cook,” she retorted. “What did you think I was doing this whole time in the cottage? Twiddling my thumbs?” 

He shrugged. “Honestly, I had no idea what you were up to,” he told her truthfully.  “I thought you were as useless as Elain and Nesta were at that point,” he admitted.

“Nesta did all the cleaning and hacked the wook,” Zara corrected him quietly. “Elain mended. I cooked. Feyre was the only one who hunted. And yes, we should have done more, but I did help run the household. The only one who never helped was our father.” The bitterness bled into her voice at that. 

There was a long pause after her admission. Then Azriel exhaled. “I guess I shouldn’t be as surprised as I am,” he muttered. “You don’t strike me as a pampered useless damsel.” 

“Thank you for that assessment, Shadowsinger,” she quipped back. “I will make sure to remember it when I need a pick-me-up.” 

He put a sack of potatoes in front of her. “I take it I’m peeling potatoes,” Zahra murmured, staring at the sack that was in front of her.

“Yes,” Azriel confirmed in that no-nonsense voice of his. “While I prep the meat. I do hope you like rabbit,” he added drily.

“Oh good,” she muttered, grabbing a knife and started to peel away at the potatoes. “Did you hunt it?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, his voice neutral. Zahra bit back a snarky remark and focused on the potatoes. 

They worked like that in silence. Him preparing the meat, her peeling the potatoes and the carrots.

It was odd. This whole thing was odd. Sitting and cooking with Azriel. She hadn’t even known he could cook. 

And yet…it was comfortable. Like the silence wasn’t awkward and neither of them felt the need to break it. It was a comfortable domestic kind of silence. Like they had done this a thousand times before. 

“How are you with spicy food?” Azriel asked her after he had taken the potatoes from her. 

Zahra blinked in surprise. “I have a pretty good tolerance, why?” she asked, curious. 

“All the food I can cook is Illyrian,” Azriel answered drily. “I learned from Rhys’ mother and later from my own. It’s spicy.”

“I can handle a bit of spice,” she assured him. “It should be fine.” He nodded in response. 

The sound of the fire crackling in the stove and him stirring up the meat were the only sounds filling the kitchen as they continued their work. 

Zahra honestly had no idea Azriel could cook. He didn’t seem like the type of male who spent time cooped up in the kitchen, making meals. It was a little surprising. 

And yet, the scents of spices and rabbit were filling her kitchen right now... It smelled almost heavenly. 

She hadn’t smelled something as heavenly in a long time. And her stomach growled in response to the delicious scents of food. Zahra tried to remember when she’d last eaten something actually decent, but she couldn’t think straight. The food was distracting her.

“You look half starved,” Azriel observed in a deadpanned tone and she snapped her head up only to find him looking at her. 

His eyes were focused on her, a frown playing on his forehead. “When was the last time you actually ate something properly?” he asked her, his voice firm. 

She averted her gaze. “I don’t know,” she muttered, looking away from him and to the pot bubbling on the stove. “Maybe a week ago?” 

He was silent for a moment. “That long?” he asked her, his voice carefully neutral. She just shrugged in response to keep herself from admitting that she actually couldn’t remember exactly. 

He poured hot, thick stew into a bowl for her and then put it in front of her, holding out cutlery for her to take. “Why are you doing this?” Zahra asked him weakly.

“Because I wish somehow had done it for me,” Azriel responded

That simple statement made her blink in surprise. It was not an answer she had been expecting. She bit her lip, not really sure what to say. 

And then he simply said. “Eat. You look like you’d blow away at the slightest breeze.”

She should have been angered by that blunt statement, but somehow she wasn’t. 

So Zahra ate.

The food tasted incredibly good. She had to admit that the Shadowsinger was talented with cooking. The food was spiced just perfectly, hot and filled with flavour. 

Every bite made her realize just how incredibly hungry she was. Her stomach filled slowly and the hunger abated with every spoonful. It was like her insides started to come back to life. The numbness was slowly disappearing, replaced by an odd sort of warmth flowing through her limbs. 

"Thank you," she finally said weakly.

Azriel just nodded at her, watching her eat. “Of course,” he murmured and continued with his own food. 

[sage-nebula]

While Sonic did raise Tails, I think it's also important to remember that he was a kid / is a teen himself, that he was a big brother raising a little brother, and that they are also best friends.

What I mean by this is, Sonic didn't—and doesn't—act like a traditional parent to Tails. How could he, when he had no example to follow? Why would he, when that would inhibit his own fun?

Sonic, age 11, would roar with laughter hearing the tiny 4-year-old next to him repeat after him, "yeah, fuck you, Robuttnik!" in his squeaky baby voice because preteen big brothers think it's hilarious when their toddler little brothers swear.

Preteen Sonic, whose diet consists of chili dogs and Chaos Cola, and who thinks that that's the perfect diet because it tastes the best and he doesn't know what a nutrient even is, would have no reason to tell Tails to eat vegetables or fruits because, well, he doesn't need to, so why does Tails?

And grounding? At any age, forget about it. If he grounds Tails, then Tails can't come on an adventure with him. Sonic would feel he's punishing himself with that one.

Honestly, most of the time, Sonic is on board with what Tails wants anyway. When other adults raise an eyebrow (if they do), Sonic agrees with whatever Tails's reasoning is for why he's doing what he's doing. Example:

Vanilla: "Tails, while I admit your knowledge of this machinery far exceeds my own, I still have concerns about you handling such explosive, radioactive materials. You're too young; it's not safe."

Tails: "It's perfectly safe. I only handle it in my underground fallout bunker and I'm always in full hazmat whenever I use it. You don't have to worry."

Vanilla: "Sonic?"

Sonic: [gestures at Tails] "He's got his bunker and his suit."

Tails: "I'm fine."

Sonic: "He's fine."

Vanilla: [sighs]

It's for the best, because if Sonic ever did try suggesting something wasn't age-appropriate for Tails—or that Tails shouldn't do this-or-that—Tails has the perfect counter due to his upbringing. Example:

Tails: [watching a rated-R science-fiction movie while editing schematics on the Miles Electric]

Sonic: "Should you be watching that? Seems a bit . . . mature for an eight-year-old?"

Tails: "Should I have helped fight the Death Egg Robot four years ago? Seems a bit mature for a four-year-old."

Sonic: "Touché, little bro. Carry o—actually, scoot over; this one looks interesting."

Sonic raised Tails, yes, but not in the way a traditional parent raises a child. He did his best, but he was a kid / teen raising a kid / teen and so things like "don't swear" and "eat a balanced diet" and "only G-rated cartoons" weren't exactly priorities. And even bedtime . . . Sonic teases Tails about his sleep schedule, but he's home sporadically and Tails is a Big Kid now; so long as he's not falling asleep on adventures, Sonic figures Tails can handle that himself.

Of course, none of this is to say Sonic doesn't care about Tails—he does, of course he does!—or that he didn't help Tails with important milestones when raising him. He was the one who taught Tails how to read and write. But he also respects Tails, and perhaps most importantly, is a teenager who wants to have fun with his kid brother / best friend. And that, in turn, is what keeps their relationship from really resembling that of a parent and child. Because they aren't; they're brothers-who-are-best-friends. And that's pretty darn special in its own right.

[sturnsdarling]

'I get them too, sometimes'

y/n has an anxiety attack, and bff!matt calms her down the only way he can think of in the moment

vibe check: detailed anxiety attack, comforting!matt, anxious!reader, fluffy ending cute vibes all round

1.5k words

A/N: WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN anyways this is based on the iconic stydia scene where stiles has a panic attack and lydia kisses him. I was gonna do it where Matt had the anxiety attack but it felt icky so I swapped it round. as an anxious girlie this was weirdly comforting to write and PART TWO IS HERE

love and cigs, merc

The boys' house was vibrating with the thump of music from every corner. People were pouring in through the front door, all mingling in the living room as Chris' party playlist blared through the speakers. Almost everyone in the influencer space was there, and you felt like the odd one out.

The boys' had begged you to come, pulling the 'it wont be the same without you' card as they all glared at you with puppy eyes. They knew parties weren't really your thing but, it was a celebration for them hitting seven million on their youtube channel and, you knew you couldn't miss it. So after some begging and bribing with 'literally anything you want from that weird old book shop in downtown' you agreed to go.

You felt like you were wearing a sign that said, in big bold letters; 'I don't belong here' as you lent against the kitchen counter, nursing some liquid courage. Chris was on the sofa, his laughter booming over the music as he sat with Nate and some boys you didn't recognise. Nick was at the drink station, making cocktails with the girls, pretending to be a bartender as he tired, and failed, at bar flares, making everyone around him curl over with laughter, as usual. Matt was on the other side of the kitchen, talking to some people about whatever show he was obsessed with at the moment and peering over at you occasionally to make sure you were okay.

More and more people started to pile into the house, more people than you even thought they knew, and at the sight of tens of faces you didn't know, a tight feeling started to form in your chest. You knew you were okay, because you had the boys, but they were off mingling and doing their rounds and you didn't exactly want to follow them around like a lost puppy.

You put your drink down, walking over to the sink to fill a red cup with water, your hand shaking slightly as you brought the cup to your mouth. You took a gulp and closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in and reminding yourself that you were fine, and you were in the boys' house. You knew that they wouldn't invite anyone that they didn't trust in their home and just kept reminding yourself of that.

An already drunk and giggly girl barged into the kitchen, flayling about without a care in the world as she backed up into you, knocking your drink from your hand and nearly pushing you into the sink.

"oh, shit, m'so sorry babe" she said as you turned around slightly. She placed a soft hand on your shoulder and squeezed it, "oh my god you're so pretty what the fuck!" she squealed, "m'sorry for spilling your drink" she slurred, sauntering away as you forced a smile.

Despite the somewhat sweet interaction, something about it made your fingers go numb, your chest tightening at the feeling of your wet shirt clinging to your skin. The walls started to close in and you felt as if you could feel the world turning on its axis. Your breath felt like sand paper against your throat as you tried to steady your rapid heart rate and failed.

You pushed your way through the crowds of people and b-lined for Matt's room, your knees nearly buckling under you as you desperately tried to calm your breathing.

As if he could feel your energy change, Matt instinctively looked for you in the crowd, catching a glimpse of your frame as you ducked between people, near enough running to his room.

"I'll be right back" he said to the guy in front of him, placing his drink down and following you through the crowd, calling out your name as he did.

You fumbled at the door handle, pushing yourself inside Matts room as your vision began to blur. Your chest was heaving up and down with rapid breaths, every inhale felt nearly impossible and everything around you was pulsating, your vision turning to a fishbowl as you clawed at your chest.

"y/n/n" Matt entered the room, searching for you in the dim light.

You turned to face him, your eyes brimming with tears as you pressed hard fingers into your sternum, Matts eyes widened at the sight of you and he shut the door, coming to you in an instant, gentle hands on your shoulders as he tried to keep them in one place.

"hey, hey, you're okay, you're okay" He repeated, knowing immediately what was happening.

"I can't - I can't breathe" you stuttered out, pleading eyes burning holes into his. Your knees buckled from under you, feeling like the world was shifting under your feet.

Matt followed you to the floor, hands still gripping your shoulders. "Its okay, breathe with me, okay?" He said, taking a long inhale and encouraging you to copy him, his eyes baring into yours.

You tried to mimic his movements, a shaky breath rattling through your nose. Matt breathed out, nodding as he did and you did the same, the feeling in your chest only worsening, it felt like someone had tied a belt round your shoulders, and was pulling it closed as tight as they could around your chest, watching with a smile as the breath left your lungs.

You clenched your eyes closed and shook your head, "s'not working, Matt, nothing is working" a small sob left you as you grew more and more frustrated.

His jaw clenched at the sight of your shaking frame, feeling utterly helpless as you clawed at your chest. He brought his hands to cup your cheeks, bringing your head up to look at him.

"Its okay, y/n, m'right here, I'm right here" he poured into you, not letting you break eye contact as he tried to breathe as slowly as possible.

His thumbs stroked soft touches against your cheek, his eyes racing around your face as you desperately tried to catch your breath. Your eyes flitted back and forth between his, searching for solace in his face, feeling like the walls were closing in around you. Matts eyes fell to your lips, and quickly met your eyes once more. Your brows furrowed in frustration, eyes running circles around his features as his lips parted slightly.

Before you could register what was happening, Matt pulled you into him, crashing his lips against yours in a soft yet strong kiss.

Your eyes widened at the feeling, Matts soft lips pressed against yours as he held you tight against his face. After a moment in the embrace, your shoulders relaxed and your eyes closed, and you started to kiss him back, your arms limp by your sides.

In that moment, you felt as if nothing mattered. Your heart rate slowed and you took a calm, steady breath in through your nose. Matt pulled away from the kiss, hands still wrapped around your face as you took a long breath out through your parted mouth. Matts eyes fluttered open and he let his hands drop down to his knees. Your eyes met his, slow breaths engulfing your lungs.

"h - how did you do that?" you asked in a breathy tone

"I um - I saw somewhere that the best way to stop a panic attack is by holding your breath, so" he muttered, averting his gaze from yours.

"so, when you kissed me" you began to speak

"you held your breath" he looked back up at you, bringing his lips inside themselves, the taste of your lip balm dancing on his tongue.

You smiled, a final, relieved breath leaving your lips as you stared into him.

"thankyou" your gaze was soft and utterly grateful, doe eyes pouring into his as he shuffled where he sat.

"of course" he shrugged, looking down to the floor

You sat in silence for a moment, not a trace of awkwardness hung in the air.

"I get them too, sometimes" Matt said as he toyed with a piece of lint on the floor.

"you do?" you said, still looking at him

"mhm" he nodded, meeting your eye-line, slightly taken back by you already looking at him, "feels like the whole world is crumbling around you, shits' not fun"

"yeah" you chuckled, relaxing where you sat.

"d'you - do you wanna hang out in here for a bit? I can stay with you" Matt said, his eye contact wavering at the offer only to return to you once more.

"oh you don't - you don't have to do that, Matt, you'll miss your party" you shook your head.

"I don't really like parties anyway" he replied, "I'd honestly rather sit here with you on the floor all night" he chuckled, gesturing to the floor.

You smiled as a soft laugh left your nose, "okay" you said.

"yeah?" his head shot up to meet your gaze.

"yeah." you nodded

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10

[bunnys-kisses]

hey bunbun 🤍 can i have persian rolls and a pastry braid with champagne for lando norris? thank youuu

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! i'd love to hear from you! thank you to everyone who has submitted, these have been a lot of fun to work with! i love writing these <3 and for this once, i love a good sugar daddy au! so thank you for the submission and i hope you love this <3 (remember comments & reblogs are always welcomed!!)

persian rolls: "it's mandatory i finish. you getting to finish is a treat." + pastry braid: "your job is to make me cum. now get to work." + champagne: sugar daddy situation served by lando norris (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, sugar daddy au, sugar daddy!lando, oral sex (lando receiving), couch sex, cowgirl position, orgasm denial, hair pulling mean!lando

"pretty girl, such a pretty girl." he chuckled as he rubbed his cock up against your cheek. from the bridge of your nose to the corner of your mouth. he even watched your tongue dart out to taste his hard-on.

"lando." you whined.

he chuckled as he held your head by the hair with his other hand, "you really are something, huh? you want that pay raise. you want a little bit more in your wallet every week?" lando would freely give you whatever you wanted. he was smitten by you. but, if you were going to work for it. and work for it so hard. then who was he to deny you?

you were the sugar baby of one of the top drivers in the world, it was plain and simple. the story of how you two met was boring, but the life you lived after you two met was far more exciting. and while you were spoiled with all manner of the nicer things in life, everything came with a price.

and while lando would happily kiss you on the lips while on his boat or let his gaze linger when you showed him something you wanted to buy. his payments were compensation for his aggressive sexual kicks. every hickey was paid for in gold jewellery. every bruise on your hips and ass were paid for in cute clothes and stuffed animals. every mean word was paid for in orgasms. lando norris would bruise you behind, spit in your mouth and call you a slut, but by the time you were back home, you had a notification that l. norris had deposited money into your account.

so with his fat cock grazed across your lips, his heated words burned into your brain, "your job is to make me cum. now get to work." and hissed when you did exactly that.

your blow jobs were sloppy, but in the best way. they weren't refined the way a professional slut would've been, they were messy in a cute way. but you were always mindful of your teeth. your spit got on your chin and lips as you tried to take him to the root. you held onto his thighs as you worked your mouth on his cock.

lando loved the sight in front of him. he was on the couch with his cock out of his sweatpants and you were without any clothes, sucking him off like an obedient girl. he yanked your hair, "i love you like this. such a pretty little slut, you know exactly how to get me off. but, i want more. up on my lap now, where you truly belong."

you pulled your mouth off of his cock and wiped your mouth with the back of his hand before you scrambled to get up into his lap. you were trained to the t, you were so good for him. lando was a little surprised just how good you were. he helped sink his cock into you, your cunt was easy to slip into. you were soaked that the word 'soaked' didn't do it justice. regardless, it greatly turned lando on. you were quick like a rabbit, and lando had to grip onto your hips to slow you down a little.

"it's not a race." he said, softly yet firm. as much as he'd love to eat your cottontail, neither of you were rabbits so there was no need to move so fast. not that you were cumming anyway.

lando loved denying you orgasms, to watch you squirm and whine on his cock. you moved slower, guided by him. he kissed at your neck and chest while you took him impressively. he knew he was well above average and the biggest you've ever had. but you took it all so well. you bucked your hips with each of your movements and it made lando's mouth water.

"such a slutty girl." he purred, "you are so painfully slutty, would do anything for a little extra green in your pocket." he almost laughed and you moaned a little louder. he pulled you closer by your hips and let you ride him.

you could feel the pleasure fill your gut. you clutched onto his shoulders as you rocked your hips a little faster. the movements were hard and it only turned you on even more. that was all part of the game, how you two fucked. lando liked when it hurt a little, he liked when you moaned and squirmed. even when you were on top, you were still under him. he could move you anyway he liked.

"i'll always want you. someone's gotta keep my cock wet. no one else would let me treat them the way you let me treat you. you get off to it all, being used and paid off. you liked the money in your account and my cock on your lips."

you moaned as the pleasure only grew and grew with each of your movements. your nails bit into his shoulders. he looked hot in the black tank top and grey sweatpants. he was the type of man that women got addicted to.

he started to move your hips faster. he was chasing his own high over getting you to climax. he wanted to finish inside of you, he wanted to know a part of him was in you at all times. that left him excited,a shiver up his spine as he had you bouncing on his cock quickly once more. your eyes rolled back a little at the stimulation in your body.

"lando..." you moaned.

he quickly finished inside of you with a heavy groan and you stopped riding him. you sat there, legs on either side of his waist. you looked down at him with your near blissed out expression. you hadn't cum yet, but lando already beat you to it.

he looked up at you with a bit more clarity in his vision. he slapped your ass, the sound echoed in the living room. he raised his eyebrows at you and said, "it's mandatory i finish. you getting to finish is a treat. if you want to finish, you better work for it. now, c'mon, actually work for once in your life." and with shaky knees, you rode him like your life depended on it.

you knew that lando would make up for in the language he spoke. vast amounts of money tucked into your bank account. and when you limped him it would make the pain in your back a little less <3

[fanfics-with-coffee]

Wants

More ramblings of an insomniac, still not proofread but i wanna throw this out here. We're back on our smut roll as well!

No one really cared what Astarion wanted or didn't want to do. He'd stopped resisting at some point, just letting whomever had higher status overrule him even when it came to his own body. But you, you didn't do that. You never asked him to do something he didn't want. So he asked himself; what did he want? You. He wanted you. Could he have you?

Genre: Smut Pairing: Astarion x (fem)reader Kinks: PiV, little bit of orgasm control, biting, marking, dirty talk Words: 7400+ Need something to listen to? This is what I listened to while writing this: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4XkxtmnNB3RI55o414xpdx?si=ef01f7ab913f4a26

Astarion wouldn’t say that you liked him per se, it’s doubtful you even enjoyed his company unlike how you enjoyed the company of say Wyll or Shadowheart. Yet you couldn’t possibly dislike him either, after all; who let’s a vampire drink from them if you didn’t at least tolerate him. 

“Is he yours? He’s quite handsome, that can’t be a coincidence, you know how to pick them.” Her eyes scanned him, a smile tugging at her lips as he seemed to evaluate his very existence.

“...You mean Astarion? I didn’t pick him, he’s here ‘cus he wants to be. Besides, if I knew him beforehand it’s doubtful I’d pick him anyways.” You replied, arms crossed over your chest.

“Hah! You’re funny, well he’s clearly under your command anyways. Won’t you let me borrow him? I’ve always wanted to be bitten by a vampire you see…” She drew closer, her eyes still looking him up and down. Nausea grew in his belly, his throat closing up.

Astarion wouldn’t say he liked you either per se, you didn’t make yourself the most personable exactly. You were blunt, which he enjoyed, as long as it wasn’t directed at him. Yet you weren’t afraid to speak your mind when he tried to play with you. Every and all attempts to get under your skin was answered with distinct indifference, not full rejection but without skipping a beat you continued whatever line of thought you had started. The most he could pull from you was the occasional laugh at his antics, mocking his clearly practiced recitals of lines he’d used dozens of times on hundreds of other people. You often replied with your own dry sense of humor. Sometimes though, he could swear that your cheeks flushed ever so slightly, but it was hard to tell since these few times were also those when you promptly turned your face away from him, suddenly a lot more interested in a bird or bush. And if he pushed, you were suddenly convinced you heard Karlach break something or Gale needing help with supper. He considered giving up, treating you with the same distance he kept to the other companions, yet you always seemed to gravitate back to his tent, to the spot next to him or simply to wherever he was. He wouldn’t say he liked you, but he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed your company.

“Well, I’m a spawn technically so you know, not a true vampire.” He managed to keep his voice light and comical, a half-hearted attempt at dissuading her, to keep her hands to herself. “Besides, I think I’d like to keep my teeth to myself this time.”

“Mh… Well no matter, you’re pretty enough to make it an overseeable difference. But I didn’t ask you, spawn.” The word was an insult. “I was talking to your commander here, or is it master? I can make it worth your while.”

The bite in your words and the general lack of give to his pushing and pulling gave him a weird sense of comfort. He could spew whatever lines he’d used before, chewed up and spit back out over and over again and you just… moved past them. You were bored by them, but not by him. He felt comfortable telling you about Cazador, about his scars, both physical and mental. You’d never gone too deep, but you had listened and you hadn’t let it color the way you treated him. There was a certain respect to the way you kept him at a distance, he couldn’t trap you under his thumb even if he tried. Yet you stayed besides him.

“Why in the nine hells are you asking me? I told you, I don’t own him, he can do whatever he wants. Mostly anyways. But he seems to be disinterested in whatever you’re offering so.” You didn’t spare him a glance, instead keeping your eyes on the drow woman. You were cautious too.

“Tsk, well if you’re unwilling to barter, I guess I’ll just have to go directly to the source.” She looked annoyed for a second before putting a face of seduction, temptation. She sensually moved her hair away from her neck, draping it over her opposing shoulder and tilting it towards him. She began to walk closer. Astarion could feel panic rise in him, instinctually taking a step back, unsure of what to do. “Come on, spawn, isn’t this what you were born to do? Feed?”

And when he was desperate, hungry and weak that night in the forest, his first instinct was to feed from you. Not because he hated you, far from it. But because he respected you and because he knew that if you found out; you might not judge. He hadn’t been careful enough when he hovered over you, accidentally waking you from your slumber. He had scrambled, fearing that this was it for him. He had slipped up and now any and all trust he had accumulated, though perhaps unfounded, would be wasted and he’d be banished if not worse. Yet you understood. He doesn’t know why, but it seemed like you did. And that night you let him feed from you, despite the pain it undoubtedly caused. And in the morning, you pretended like nothing had happened, like last night was as peaceful as all the others.

Maybe he did like you, just a little bit. You’d at least earned that much. But he had done nothing to earn that same sentiment. 

Yet…

“One step closer to him and I will be the one to spill your blood instead. He said he didn’t want you or whatever it is you’re offering.” 

You had taken a single step to place yourself between the woman and Astarion, keeping her from getting any closer to him. It was doubtful that you’d actually do anything against her in the very center of Absolutist territory. But he wasn’t certain, the way you firmly placed your feet on the ground and the way he could see your muscles tense beneath your armor from this far away told him that you just might. There’s the distinct tension of magic in the air, crackling just beneath the surface of the weave but enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand. It lasts only a brief moment before the drow relents.

“Fine, do as you wish. What use do you have for a vampire that won’t even do something as simple and natural as bite a willing victim? Even if he is a spawn.”

“What reasons I have for keeping him around is none of your damn business. Now did you have anything more interesting to say or are we done here?”

There was nothing else you needed from her and as quickly as things had escalated, it had passed. It was still a couple hours before you decided to call it a day and lead them back to the camp to plan your next move and eat dinner. Astarion hadn’t brought up what had happened with Araj the whole time, yet it kept replaying in his head. If he could dream, he would’ve assumed this was the pleasant relief of sleep. But it wasn’t, you had stood up for him. Not only that, you had kept him from doing something he would regret, because he knows that if you hadn’t stepped in or even asked him to do it… He would’ve. Weak willed as he was after all the times he had broken his own boundaries for others. 

Night in the Shadowlands was somehow darker than the days, despite the lack of sun no matter the time. And as if the darkness could swallow any sound, silence lingered in the camp. Everyone either occupied with their own issues or idly putting their hands to work managing their gear. Astarion had wandered away from his tent and from the campfire, safe thanks to the pixie’s blessing and comforted in the shadows. It was a sense of familiarity that was bittersweet after todays events. 

The air was cold, the breeze rustling the blood red leaves of the few trees that could survive this darkness. The temperature didn’t bother him, he had long ago forgotten how cool the nights got. He could smell the dampness of the earth and of the rotting trees, the smoke of the campfire a vague note beneath it all. He surely smelled of smoke as well, it stuck to his clothes and hair despite how much he tried to cover it. ‘Rugged’ had never been a good look on him, he much preferred the sweet notes of incense and wine. But the worries of everyday issues were forgotten as he let himself fill his lungs with the fresh air.

Crack

The sounds of footsteps brought him back to the moment and he quickly turned around, the thought of a shadow cursed boar or harper still a relevant danger. Instead he was met with a friendly face. A friendly frowning face.

“What are you doing out here? You didn’t even bring a torch or anything, no one knew where you had gone.” You stopped a few meters away from him, half expecting to be able to return to the warmth and glow of the campsite since you had found the lost vampire. A light cantrip had been cast on the crossbow you kept strapped to your back, you always kept it within reach.

“Oh it’s just you, hah I thought I was about to be ambushed for a second. Were you looking for me? Awh you even asked the others where I was, how cute.” He teased, giving you a playful smile before turning his back to you once again. He heard you sigh before your footsteps grew closer.

“You shouldn’t wander off while we’re here.” Your words held no weight, you knew you couldn’t stop him if he was to actually wander away from camp. They were more like an attempt to keep any guilty conscious from getting to you if he did get hurt. But he still liked the thought that you might actually have been worried. “...Are you looking for something to feed on?”

“Around these parts? Gods no, I wouldn’t even touch a dead squirrel with a ten foot pole around here, not after that damned raven. I’ve accepted that I’ll just have to make do until we’re in sunnier parts.” He could feel his stomach writhe at the thought of something to dig his fangs into. He knew you had let him feed from you before but he had never been the one to ask, it’d feel like breaking an unspoken rule.

“Makes sense, those things came out of nowhere. Even the corpses have been cursed…” There's a pause and hesitation to you, an abnormality in your conversations. “Why didn’t you drink from the drow?”

He knew you’d ask, yet his face grimaced at the mere thought of her and her blood.

“Bah, she’s a blood alchemist, who knows what kind of stuff is running through her blood? I’m sure I wouldn’t be allowed to keep anything down if I drank from her.” He quickly recovered from the unintentional show of genuine disgust. “Besides, what’s the fun in a willing victim?” He turned his head to look at your face finally, putting on another playful smile and hoping you’ll take his joke as a response.

You don’t. Instead you cross your arms and raise your eyebrows ever so slightly at him, waiting for the real response. He’s unwilling to give it and instead looks away, gazing down into the valley beneath the cliff you both stood on. 

“C’mon, give me a real answer Astarion.” You lightly bounced your shoulder against his, the casual touch a surprise but not an unwelcomed one.

“Ah, you always have to dig your nose into things, don’t you… Fine, I simply didn’t want to. But that’s no reason to turn down whatever aid she might’ve had…”

“It’s as good a reason as any.”

Silence.

You hadn’t judged him. You just… took his choice at face value. Did you really nearly spill blood on the floor of Moonrise towers simply because he didn’t want to bite her?

“That’s it?”

“...What? Is there another reason you didn’t want to? You should’ve just told me from the beginning then, but go on.”

It’s almost funny how seemingly clueless you are. A dry laugh escapes him.

“No, it’s true. I simply didn’t want to. But you’re just so casual about it! Who knows what kind of powers she could’ve given us? But you decided to threaten her instead, it’s highly unlikely she’ll sell us as much as a health potion or even an antidote from now on.” He waves his hands around, frustrated by your seeming lack of care.

“You said no.” You shrugged.

“I-” He pauses, dumbfounded. “I said no… I didn’t want to bite her and you respected that… You even stood up to her for me, even though you don’t like me. I just can’t seem to understand you.”

You suddenly look just as confused as he did a moment ago, turning to fully face him for the first time since you joined him in the dark.

“...Who in the hells said I didn’t like you?”

“Well… Well no one said it, but I mean it’s not like you enjoy my company. It’s obvious everytime we talk. You don’t even give me as much as a smile when I tell you you’re beautiful, and when I try to playfully ask you to bed you just mock me. Yet you always come wandering over to me and so I try again, I mean why else would you want to talk to me? I may not be a mindreader, darling, but you’re sort of sending mixed signals here. I thought we just acted on the basis of respect here.”

Did you want him to try harder? Or stop fully with his advances? He really didn’t know what you wanted.

“I… Well…” In the darkness, with you backlit by your crossbow, he might be mistaken but there seems to be a blush creeping onto your features. “Didn’t you ever think that maybe I just don’t know how to respond?”

Oh.

Oh.

Aren’t you just adorable? Smugness builds in his chest and he opens his mouth, about to speak but you’re quicker.

“Besides, it’s obvious you’re just a flirt and I… I didn’t like being so affected by someone who isn’t serious. It’s embarrassing falling for something that's so fake, so practiced. So I ignored the flirting, I knew it was just lighthearted fun after all.  And I still like you outside of the compliments and teasing.” You hold your crossed arms even tighter together, unable to look at him. Instead you watch the slow fog rolling across the barren land. Your face lit by the soft glow of the moon just above Last Light Inn.

Astarion hadn’t even had the thought that you simply hovered around him because you… liked him. It was such a simple answer and yet it would’ve been the last thing he could’ve guessed. 

He liked you too.

A lot.

A lot more than he had previously allowed himself to feel. Could he even allow it now? What if he had ruined his chances of something more than… than what already was. The status quo had grown comfortable, predictable.

“I see…”

It’s all he can say. He can see that it wasn’t what you had hoped he’d say even if you weren’t looking at him.

A moment passes in silence.

There’s a look on your face suddenly, it looks almost pained or embarrassed, maybe it was both but just as quickly as it had flashed over your features it was gone. You let out a sigh and let your arms fall to the side, turning away from the outlook, clearly about to leave.

“Well that was… the worst. Anyways, I’m heading back to camp. Take your time, I’ll make sure there's supper left for you when you come back.”

Astarion realizes in a heartbeat that he was allowed to want something more.

You don’t even get one step away from where you stood before a hand grabs your arm with unnatural speed, holding you back from moving any further away. You nearly jump out of your skin by the motion, staring at the rogue. His face and eyes now lit by your crossbow, his eyes are wide as he watches you like prey. A shiver runs up your spine, he’d never looked at you like this before.

“Earlier today, when Araj asked you to let me bite her, you said I could do whatever I wanted.” His eyes don’t leave yours and there's something about their intensity that makes your cheeks heat up.

“Mostly, anyways…” You repeat what you had told Araj.

That seems to have been all the confirmation Astarion needed, suddenly closing the gap between you as he takes a step closer and pulls you into him. You catch yourself on him, the sudden movement taking you by pure surprise. Before you can register what has happened properly, his other hand has grabbed your chin in between his thumb and forefinger with a firm grip and tilted your head up to face his. His unnaturally cool breath hits your lips as he’s leaned in, inches from yours but he stopped there. You’re trapped in his presence, it’s overwhelming in a way you always tried to avoid. But you wouldn’t dare move now, afraid to ruin whatever was happening.

“Then I want to kiss you…” His words are low, soft even.

“...I’d like that…”

In an instant his lips hit yours, soft and velvety. They feel just like you had thought so many times when you’d watched him talk. They’re cool compared to yours, something you hadn’t thought about but it somehow made everything feel so much more alive. Every soft stroke of his lips against yours was vivid as they parted and pushed up against each other, over and over again. The hand that had grabbed your face had smoothly slid to the back of your head, making sure he had you where he wanted you. The other hand had left your arm and was pulling your body against his, keeping you as close as he could physically keep you.

Astarion pushed into your body with a want, a need and a hunger you hadn’t ever seen him exhibit before.

He pulled away from your lips too soon. You didn’t realize how much you needed air before it filled your lungs abruptly in a labored breath.

In the glow of the moon and your makeshift light you could see his face. He was smiling at you, his fangs just barely peeking out from behind his lips. His eyes weren’t as wide anymore, instead crinkled at the edges from his smile but the look of predator remained in them still. He needed you.

“You taste divine, my dear.” You try to scoff, the comment was stupid in relation to simple kisses after all. But you don’t get much of a chance to react to his flirtatious attitude before he’s leaned back in, this time hovering over your neck with his mouth. His nose nudges the underside of your ear as he keeps your head still with the hand still firmly holding the back of your neck.

“But I want to taste your blood, if you’ll let me.”

Goosebumps spread down your arms and your breath catches in your throat. The hidden meaning of what he’s asking of you isn’t lost, not after today’s events. He wants your vulnerability, your submission, your blood. You had always been the one to tell him when he could feed from you, now he’s asking directly to do so. He wants to see your trust in him. That even when he’s a starving animal, he won’t hurt you, won’t take more than he needs. 

And he wants to show you how much he wants you.

His teeth graze over the soft skin of your neck, waiting for you to give him the sign. You nod.

His teeth pierce your skin, familiar pain shoots from the bite. You clench your teeth for a second before you relax, letting out a shaky breath. The pain dulls with his hands slowly starting to roam your body, one carefully tangling in your hair as he brings it up. He takes a soft grasp on it, using it to meaningfully guide your head to the side and giving him more space to drink from you. You don’t provide any resistance, all hesitations towards his advances were being washed away with each wave of pleasure and pain.

There’s no rush to him, no tension as he takes his time to enjoy you. Instead of the usual controlled and precise way he usually fed from you, when you both believed it to simply be an act of survival. Now he lets his tongue lap over the wound, the odd feeling of your hot blood and his cool tongue intermingling against your skin. He momentarily leaves the spot to kiss up your neck, intentionally letting your blood drip down and leave a trail as you shudder from the pleasure. His body is still firmly pushed against yours, his free hand carefully sneaking under your shirt to push against your bare skin. He’s pulling you against him and you've realized there's a rhythm to it, a slow and teasing tact to his grinding. It feels good, being so enveloped in him. When he feels ready again, he dips down to lick up the strip of scarlet that had formed, finishing with an open mouth kiss back where he started. The sharp inhale you make is punctuated by a soft moan, giving away your feelings and you realize you’ve been caught enjoying this maybe a little too much.

Embarrassment burns through you as Astarion pulls back to watch your face, a chuckle rumbling in his chest and spilling out between his lips, putting fuel to your fire.

“Now wasn’t that just adorable, I never expected you to make such cute sounds. Why haven’t you let me hear those when I’ve fed from you before?” He’s messing with you, a playfully mean glint to his eyes.

“You know why.” You say defiantly.

“Maybe…” He pretends to think about it, leaning back into you to place soft kisses along your jawline. The hand in your hair keeps you in place as he does. “But I want to hear you say it.”

“It feels good… this time…” You whisper but you know he’s heard you by the way you feel him smile against your skin.

“Is that so? I didn’t know you were such a masochist but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, who else would be so turned on by being bitten by a vampire.” He mocks you, the way he laughs leading to even more embarrassment and frustration coursing through your body. Partially by the way his laugh makes desire shoot right to your core.

He’s mean but it somehow turns you on even more, though you’d never tell him that. This is what you were trying to avoid after all, being so easily wrapped around his finger and put under his control. A part of you is still fighting his control and you try to step on his foot as payback.

Your foot only hits soft dirt as he quickly moves his own. Suddenly the grip in your hair is tightened and he pulls your head back further, forcing you to stare into his eyes directly. You’re scared that you were going to be met with anger or even hurt over your sudden and involuntary rejection. Yet all you’re met with is delight when you look into his eyes, his heavy breathing filling the night air with the smell of blood. 

“There it is, I always did enjoy the way you pushed back. I was worried you’d have gone soft on me.” He seemed ecstatic by your actions and you flushed again, he really did like it. “But just to make sure, darling… What do you want?”

For a moment you’re frozen, your head spinning from everything happening and partially from the blood loss. Not to mention the blood that had pooled somewhere further below. Yet worry brewed in the back of your mind and without thinking you blurted something out.

“What do you want, Astarion?”

You needed to know that this was what he wanted, despite him having taken the main lead, you wanted to make sure he had an out and that your own desires wouldn’t shackle him too.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re too considerate. But I strongly believe we want the same thing right now.”

“I want you.” The words spilled out of your mouth before you could think again and Astarion drank them up like wine spilled from the bottle.

“That’s what I thought,” he kisses you again, the taste of iron still fresh on his lips. “I want you too, afterall.”

His kisses distract you as his skillful fingers leave your hair and skin, instead grabbing the buckle of the crossbow holster that was strapped across your chest. He can't seem to keep his mouth quiet while he does it though, not that you should expect Astarion to be able to keep his mouth from running.

“I want you below me, I want to hear you gasp and cry out in pleasure…” He’s breathless, wrangling the strap of leather over your head, mindlessly chucking the crossbow somewhere nearby. The light still reaches you two, if just barely. Darkness claws it’s way closer, you pray it’s enough to keep you hidden away from wandering companions who wonder where you’ve gone. “I want you exposed and naked, darling, I want to dig my teeth into places only you and I will see.”

His fingers dig the rest of your tucked shirt out of your pants, his nails pleasantly scratching against your skin as he grabs bunches of the fabric and pull it up over your head as well. The cold air is suddenly intruding on your warm skin and you gasp. Astarion is quick to place his lips onto the newly exposed skin, placing kisses across your collarbone and to your shoulder.

“I want to feel your warmth against me, I want you to take me as you dig your nails into my back. I want to push you down just to feel you push back.” Your hands find purchase on his shoulders as his own hands grab your behind, using the leverage to once again pull you in close. You can feel the hardness that had grown between his legs. He keeps going, talking in a daze in between the kisses. You don’t know if he’s drunk on your blood or just aroused, maybe it’s a combination of the two. He’s grown warmer to the touch thanks as your blood reinvigorates him. “I want you to feel me, feel every thrust as I ruin you. I want to tease you until you cry, I want to punish you for holding back on me this whole time. I want you to feel what you’ve done to me.”

You don’t get a moment to respond to him, you don’t even know what you could say. He takes your hand in his as he helps you both lower yourselves to the ground, the grass tickling the palm of your hand as you find purchase. He pushes himself over you, his knees firmly placed between your thighs, still holding your hand to push you down until you're laying below him.

“I want you to want me, just as I am.”

There’s a vulnerability to his voice and his eyebrows knit together ever so slightly as he takes a moment to take you in. You look up at him, his white curls a little more messy than when you arrived and his lips a little more flushed. The moon is still high in the sky and though not as bright as usual, it’s enough to shine down on him and he looks… Ethereal. 

You take the pause in the flow to heave yourself forwards, pushing back and he lets himself fall back to sit on his knees as you kiss him again, slightly surprised. 

“I do, Astarion, gods be damned I do.”

You can’t take it anymore, he’s still fully dressed and you're desperate to see more of him and tired of being the only one exposed. Your hands grab at his shirt, messily working it out of his pants with a furrowed brow. A smile grows on his face and he laughs at your clumsiness before deciding to help you out. It only takes a moment for his own shirt to be discarded in the grass somewhere nearby. 

“You’re so forwards, did I really rile you up so much? I thought you didn’t like it when I ran my mou-” You interrupt him with a forceful kiss and he doesn’t hesitate to lean into it. Your hands finally touch his bare chest, letting your nails lightly scratch his skin as you run them further down. You feel him shudder.

“I like hearing you talk and you can run your mouth for hours but…” Your breaths are heavy as your hands reach his thighs, softly grabbing his legs. “I need you to touch me while you do it…” You’re trying to be bold but the desperation seeps through your voice and you look up at him through your eyelashes, unable to fully face him.

“Shit… Aren’t you just perfect? Who am I to deny you what you need…” He gives in to you, pushing you back enough to let him untie the lacing on your pants. It only takes a moment of shuffling until he’s rather expertly slid your pants off of you, leaving you in your undergarments. His hands grab your knees and part them enough for him to settle back inbtween them before they slide up your thighs. You're already working on the lacing at the front of your bra, pulling and tugging on the ribbons hurriedly. It gets even harder when Astarion decides he wants to taste you again, his lips finding your neck and hungrily licking for the taste your blood as left. He’s sucking hard enough that you’re rather certain there will be a bruise in the morning but you don’t care enough to reprimand him now. 

“Having some issues there, darling?” He teases as he feels you continue to loosen your bra, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh.

“No, it’s fine, ah! There, I got it!” You finally get it loose enough to pull over your head but Astarion doesn’t waste any time. As soon as you’ve managed to get it above your chest, his mouth has found your breast and taken a nipple inbetween his lips. Your reaction is instantaneous as you arch your back into him with a loud gasp, your arms freezing above your head with the bra still tangled between them. 

His cold tongue swirls around the bud skillfully and you're sure you can almost feel his fangs grazing against the sensitive skin. You're unable to keep quiet and even when you purse your lips together, the sounds betray you. But Astarion prides himself on his multitasking, one hand finally reaching below the edge of your panties. You’re already drenched thanks to his previous actions.

“My-my, you’re soaked. How often have you imagined this? Everytime you’ve let me feed from you? Everytime we’ve been alone together? Or just when I’ve put the thought in your head, hm?” His fingers slide between your wet lips, slowly spreading them as a finger found and began to circle your clit, not quite touching it.

“It’s not like tha- ah!” He doesn’t let you finish, instead taking the moment you opened your mouth to slide two fingers into you, curling them ever so slightly.

“What did you say?” He mocked confusion, continuing to slowly thrust his fingers into you.

“I… I haven’t…” You manage to get out between moans and heavy breaths, your brain going into overdrive trying to focus on what you’re saying. Astarion clicks his tongue and suddenly his free hand has pinched your nipple inbetween two fingers and his thrusting has gotten quicker.

“Lying is a sin, didn’t you know that my dear? Are you afraid of hurting me? Here I was, hoping you’d think of me daily. The thought of you touching yourself just because of my bite would simply delight me.” He rolls your nipple inbetween his fingers and you can’t think anymore, all you can do is roll your hips against his hand and writhe underneath him. “Come on, confess to me, beautiful.”

“I…” You struggle to formulate any sentence but his attention doesn’t falter, instead he looks like a cat whose playing with a mouse. He shifts his body so your leg hooks over his thigh, pushing further up as he keeps pumping his finger into you. The new angle lets him hit that spot you can never quite reach yourself. The closer you get to formulating words, the quicker he goes until the lewd sound of his hand hitting your soaked pussy is all that can be heard. You’re getting so close. “Fuck- I have, I-I’m sorry-”

Suddenly he laughs, loudly and with a sharp edge of ridicule. His hand slows to a near stop, simply pushing and curling his finger as he grinds the palm of his hand into your clit, keeping you close to that edge of cumming. You’re dazed and confused when you look at him, why is he laughing?

“Oh you are simply a riot, you sweet thing.” He smiles too kindly as he pulls his fingers from you, leaving you clenching around nothing. He leans back as he sucks your juices from his fingers and push yourself up on your hands.

“Did I say something wrong?” You’re nearly panicked, worried you messed up and told him too much.

“No, no, not at all. The opposite actually.” He gives you a grin that clearly shows off his fangs.

“T-then why..?”

“You were close to cumming on my fingers, right?”

You nod, dumbfounded.

“I don’t want you to.”

“Huh? W-what, why?” Your brain is still hazy and you can’t think straight, his confusing answer didn’t make it easier for you either.

“Simply didn’t want you to.” You consider that maybe you did this to yourself, teaching him the power of simply refusing. You wanted him to have agency, but in this very moment you also wanted to cum. You wanted him to want you to cum. You can only guess that you looked especially conflicted because you were pulled from your thoughts by Astarions laugh again. When you look over to him, he’s untying the lace of his own pants. “Okay, no, I didn’t want you to cum on my hand because I want you to cum on my dick, simple as that actually.”

“Oh you’re such an asshole…” You mutter under your breath but his grin tells you he heard you as he pushes his pants and underwear down his legs. You take the moment to pull your own panties off.

“Ah, did you want to cum at all tonight, pet?” He threatens playfully as he finds his place between your legs but whatever reply you had died in your throat as your eyes land on his cock. You had imagined it before yet embarrassment had kept you from thinking of any details, yet there it was. Hovering over you, Astarion used one hand to hold himself up, the other softly tracing up your thigh as he took in your reaction and in turn observed your beauty. You laid beneath him, bare and vulnerable. Trusting and turned on. Just like he had wanted you. “Hm? Cat’s got your tongue? Come on now…”

He leaned in, kissing your lips once before once again lavishing the skin of your neck in open mouth kisses and playful nips that had you jolting under him. His cock just barely rested on your pussy lips as he slowly and softly moved back and forth.

“Fuck… Ah…” You sigh in pleasure but it’s not enough to satisfy Astarions ever growing need to embarrass you.

“Words, darling, use them. What do you want?” he whispered against your skin, pressing his cock further into the softness of your cunt with the base of his thumb, slowly fucking the space between you and his hand. Your slick coats him and he can’t help but sigh in relief. “Tell me, or I’ll just use you like this until I cum and leave you as you are.” It’s a threat without any truth, but it’s enough to push you to speak up.

“Maybe you should just… Shut up and fuck me, Astarion.” Your hand grips his hair, pulling it enough to guide his head back up to meet your eyes. The spark of your rebellion to his teasing thrills him to no end. “I want you to fuck me, is what I’m saying.”

Lips and teeth and tongue suddenly clash as he presses his mouth to yours. It’s messy and rough, you bite his lip and he moans. Your arms wrap around his neck. He finally guides himself to your opening and pushes the tip in. You both shiver, momentarily pulling away to whimper. And then all at once, Astarion pushes the rest of himself into your heat and you feel divine. You're forced to pull away and the feeling makes you drop your head back as you take a sudden, sharp inhale. Pleasure crashes over you and just as you feel like you can recover, Astarion is already ahead of you and starts to thrust. Whatever recovery you thought you could get is quickly washed away as moans and whimpers are all the things you can utter in that moment. His desire and desperation can be felt in the pace he quickly falls into, his mouth finding your breast once again but this time his earlier control seems to be gone. He bites into the soft flesh, his fangs sinking into your skin and you gasp. The pain and pleasure is overwhelming, the signals getting mixed up and all you know is that he feels good.

You lost count after the first three bite marks Astarion leaves on your body, you weren’t even sure if all of them broke skin or would leave any marks but surely some were. The thought crossed you, of meeting your companions when morning light comes and the view of the marks up and down your neck. And you, who had worked so hard to keep your attraction to Astarion pushed so far down, suddenly it’d be obvious you’d become his plaything. And yet the thought made you clench around Astarions cock, ecstasy taking over whatever shame you had just felt. 

Your peak was quickly building back up, and you repositioned your arms to grab around his shoulders and up his back. Letting your nails dig into his marble skin just like he had wanted.

“Hah, to believe you’d take me so well… Especially after all that grandstanding about- hah, fuck… not falling for the sweet things I say.” The smugness in his voice was annoying yet you felt your core tighten even harder at them. You dug your nails even harder into his back in response and you felt him stutter in his pace, a pleasured whimper slipping out from under his breath. “Shit,  yeah just like that, sweet girl.”

Of course he’d like it. You hide your face in his neck, unable to do anything else. You’re getting so close again.

A hand pushes inbetween you two as Astarion slips his thumb where you two are connected. He quickly finds your clit and presses down.

“Come on, I want you to cum on my cock… I want to push you over the edge, watch you cry out in pleasure…” You’re both dazed as he starts to rub your clit. Your back curves and you gasp, letting go of Astarion as you push your hands into the grass over your head, gripping it. “That’s it, cum for me, beautiful.” 

The last thing you register is his smile and his fangs glinting in the moonlight as you finally tip over the edge. You're flooded with white, hot pleasure as you screw your eyes close and arch your back off of the ground. Astarion doesn’t stop, his thumb relentless as he rubs you through your orgasm. He’s pounding into you, fast and rough but as you keep clenching around him he can feel how he’s losing himself. You’re still riding your high when his hands hit the ground on either side of your head and you can barely register his face as it hovers above you. He’s breathtaking, mouth slightly agape and eyebrows scrunched together. You see his white eyelashes as he closes his eyes, fully focusing on how good you feel around him. His pace becomes an uneven mess fueled by a frenzy and his feral need for you. Each hit of his cock against your inside sends another intense wave of pleasure bordering on pain and you take it, whimpering.

And as he pushes into you as far as he can the scales finally tip and he cums, flooding your insides with his cum. You can feel the pulsing inside you as he collapses over you, you both breathing heavy and slowly coming back down from your highs. 

It takes a minute before you're both in any condition to move, using the little energy you had gathered to roll over to your sides, facing one another. There's a comfortable silence as you let whatever happened to tonight soak in. Astarion is carefully watching your face, looking at the myriad of marks he’d left on your neck without even thinking. He never left marks usually, the proof of the nights spent with others made him nauseous. But his brain had been telling him that he should… that he needed to. He wanted you, after all. Reaching out with his hand, he carefully traced one of the bite marks. Your eyes suddenly widened.

“By the gods- What in the hells am I going to tell Shadowheart…” You groaned and hid your face in your hands. Astarion raised an eyebrow.

“...Was there something between you two I had just missed? Cus in that case I might not be able to come back to camp for a while.” He joked.

“No, no not that. I had just… mentioned to her that I wasn’t falling for your stupid flirting and how it was obvious you liked to fuck around and I just… Didn’t want that to be me. I’m pretty sure I called you annoying as well.”

Astarion once again laughed at you, the fact that you would both be facing a very judgemental Shadowheart was very amusing to him. He’d rub it in her face if he could, but the hickeys and bitemarks on your neck was probably enough.

“But now that is me… Ugh.”

“... You know I didn’t bed you just because I could, right?” Astarion spoke up, awkward in his approach.

“Well yeah the whole ‘I want you’ thing was pretty consistent. But what do you want with me?” And there was that straightforwardness he always found a little intimidating.

“I… I don’t know, but I want you. That’s all I know.” He studied your face before turning to lay on his back and look into the starless night. “Do I have to choose what that means now?”

“...No. Just… Tell me when you know I guess.” You shrug and turn to look at the sky as well. 

“Can I want you to come closer?” Astarion spoke into the night, his voice barely heard over the breeze in the trees.

You don’t answer, just shuffle closer to him, putting your head on his shoulder. He smiles, it felt nice having someone close even after you were… done.

“Though we shouldn’t stay here too long, I’m pretty sure I have grass up my ass crack and it’s colder than the hells out here. Sorry but you don’t exactly help either.”

“Oh aren’t you just charming, didn’t you ever learn some manners?” You both laugh and the shadowlands feel a little less… bleak, at least for tonight.

[bamsara]

If given the motivation I would ramble more about Trod, specifically Tyren and how he's my little dude but also a character who's behavior I've based on being a victim of obsession and idolization myself and how it's very cathartic to write a character exhibiting all the traits, both good and bad I've experienced in the Lamb's position and then knowing exactly how his story ends

That and some Narinder rambles and how Lamb is more comfortable with him than a sweet dog that surely shows more respect for them (idolization that does not see them as a person)

edit: nevermind I did end up rambling. Some TROD spoilers

its great I love this stupid dog and his scheming ways and writing just *why* he's doing what he's doing with genuine belief it's to better protect what and who he loves without actaully taking into account the subject of his affection's feelings on the whole matter. He would never hurt the lamb physically but clearly that three eyed cat is nothing but stress for them (and is he wrong? is Narinder not a source of stress? We are not light in the 'enemies' part of the friends to enemies to friends to lovers part of the trope)

Though the difference between Narinder and Tyren, the rehabilitation and the corruption, although all entitlement, is agency.

Narinder often touts himself as uncaring and hostile to the Lamb and is still angry from the betrayal, as they are, but their agency is still considered even in anger.

In the Fox chapter where Narinder wishes to sacrifice Grekimar and Tyren, Lamb refuses. They argue about it and Lamb stands their ground, Narinder is unhappy about it but does not go behind their back and sacrifice cultists anyway when he very well could.

After reuniting after the fight when Leshy is revived, Narinder and Lamb argues heavily over the subject of whether or not Narinder is allowed to kill Leshy, someone who harmed both him AND the Lamb severely, and even though he's bitter about it, Narinder acknowledges the Lamb was not given a choice prior and will sacrifice his own revenge and comfort so the Lamb can have their agency returned, at least a little bit.

^^^ This one is a complicated one because between both characters, neither killing the bishops nor keeping them alive would result in both characters getting what they want, with reasonable desires for it (wanting to have choice again, wanting revenge on their tormentors, ect)

so Narinder essentially sacrifices his comfort for the Lamb, someone who is constantly sacrificing pieces of themselves and sanity to keep everything in peace

It works the otherway around as well: Narinder demanding talismans and God Tears and Relics from the Lamb and they agree, not because they're required to do what he says but because that's their friend, and they trust him enough to help him with whatever he's doing

(and back to the argument where the refusal to sacrifice two followers was in exchange for some of their heart, Narinder refuses and breaks the deal off immediatly even though the Lamb was willing. The Lamb is obviously more important than whatever goal he had in mind, essentially scrapping his partnership with the Fox and method to gain power because he didn't want his usurper to be weakened. and other things.)

I won't talk about EVERY instance of this because this is already a long post, but overtime the two are forming communication, compromise, and even in anger, there is a respect there that puts them on the same level as equals.

Tyren does not really fall into that.

Tyren would never, and I mean NEVER hurt the Lamb physically. He would never yell at them, never be angry with them, never be upset with them, because he does not see them enough as a person to feel those things around them. And if the Lamb does disagree with him or make him upset, he will simply....disregard their current feelings on the situation and do what he thinks is best for him and them, even if it goes directly against their wishes.

And unlike Narinder, he would do it behind their back to stay in their good graces.

Tyren does care for the Lamb. Genuinely. He did long before that necklace was around his neck. He was already a little obsessed before the loyalty necklace was on him, it just gave him a slight edge.

He respects them but also doesn't. He takes their rejection at the party in stride and is completely unphased by it, completely understanding, but also plots to kill someone the Lamb called a 'friend' because the three-eyed hermit is clearly stressing them out and it makes no sense as to why they're crusading with him, or spending time with him when he's been nothing but a murderer and a blight.

I think a good summary of all this ramble is that when the Lamb tells Narinder to leave Tyren alone, Narinder goes 'whatever i fucking hate you and this stupid cult anyways. die forever' but does what they ask, while Lamb tells Tyren to please leave Narinder alone, and Tyren goes 'sure! :) anything for you my lamb' and digs up a corpse and drops it's mashed remains outside of the cat's hut with a fake letter from the Lamb saying it's 'breakfast'.

Narinder and Tyren are both very selfish, but in different ways

None of this probably makes sense

It is also 6AM

[hughiecampbelle]

Supe Preference: Asking You Out

Requested: hi, idk if you write for the supes, but I will try request anyway :D how would the supes ( the boys series) ask a gn reader out? Ty - anon

A/N: I hope this is okay my love! I tried to stay true to character as much as possible, so I'm not sure how romantic some of them are. I tried writing for new Supes too, at least new for me, so apologies if it's not totally in character! Feedback is always appreciated! 💜💜💜

Homelander doesn't exactly ask you out. Rather, on live TV during an interview or event, he grabs your hand and proclaims that you're in love, that you're a couple. Whether or not you're into him, it still comes as a shock. Afterwards he'll ask you on a date where the public and paparazzi can see and take pictures. It's not as intimate as you'd like, but the date goes well. He takes you to an expensive restaurant where you've gotten rid of your suit for something classy and elegant, but he sticks with his regular attire. It's definitely not how you were expecting to be asked out or how you thought your relationship would progress. Ashley thinks it's great! You are both insanely powerful and, for selfish reasons, she wants Homelander off her back. She appreciates that you'll take some of the attention off her.

The Deep probably makes more than a few inappropriate, crude, raunchy jokes about and around you before he properly introduces himself. It's almost compulsive the way his jokes come out. He just can't help himself. He later apologizes and asks to start fresh. Would you want to go out on a date with him? When you say yes, he instantly tells you about all his ideas. You could go to the aquarium or to dinner or to the amusement park or coffee or whatever you want to do. You stick to coffee. It's pretty cute how excited he is. He wasn't expecting you to say yes, so he really didn't have it planned all the way through. He was expecting, like everyone else in his life, for you to call him stupid and move on without answering.

A-Train and you have been dating forever, but you haven't been out on a date in ages. He's still shy trying to ask you out even now. Of course you say yes, excited you'll get some time alone. You might have to reschedule once or twice because Homelander is on the rampage, but when you do get together, he takes you rollerskating. Despite how fast he is in sneakers, he's awful on wheels. He holds your hand the entire time and definitely drags you down when he falls. He stays pretty casual in his clothes and tries to keep his hood up, but it just falls down. You guys find a roller-rink in the middle of nowhere, so you're pretty safe in being discovered. You make fun of his clumsiness and check him for bruises when he falls, especially hard. He makes the same joke over and over: that he "fell" for you. You think he's an idiot, but this is by far one of your most favorite dates.

Queen Maeve asks you out over text. When you say yes, she shows up in her civilian clothes. She makes sure she isn't followed and that Homelander is distracted the entire day. She takes you to the movies. It's dark and secluded, but she knows you love movie theater popcorn specifically with all the butter and the blue raspberry slushies, and you picked the only movie not funded by or produced by Vought. It's a really terrible comedy, but you two can laugh at it anyway. Maeve even holds your hand during the movie which makes her heart beat out of her chest. Afterwards she makes you stay after to kiss you and tell you she had a really great time. It's the first time in forever where she's felt like a real person whose allowed to do real person things. She wants to get your read on it, but you're both excited for a second date.

Firecracker would ask you on a date to some fast food restaurant where you can get the best greasy food and the thickest milkshakes. She'll definitely be sported because she doesn't go incognito and ends up spending a few minutes at least taking pictures and videos for everyone who wants one. She apologizes for them, but secretly, she loves it. You don't mind. You knew what you were getting into when you said yes to the date. She tells you about her life growing up and her past with Starlight. You tell her about your own life and how you came to New York to follow your dreams. She tells you about joining The Seven and what she really thinks of Vought. It isn't the most magical date, but you're glad you said yes. It made you feel like a teenager again, getting food with your old crush, trying to play it cool when you're actually freaking out.

Soldier Boy doesn't really ask you out on a date. You two *get busy* in bed and afterwards he asks if you'd want to go to a bar. You say yes and find yourself at a local hole in the wall, a place that definitely doesn't see new faces. Most of the patrons are as old as Ben would be if he'd aged. He looks so familiar to them, but they can't figure out where he's from. An old friend? An old co-worker? Regardless, they don't pay attention to the two of you. You and Ben start trying to out drink one another and though his tolerance is astronomically higher than yours, you keep up enough to impress him. You two probably go back to bed and keep drinking, sharing stories about your lives between sweaty sheets and shared sips of whatever booze he has lying around. It's not too official, but you both kind of think of it as a date.

Bonus! Annie asks you to go bowling with her. Like in the show, she plays it off like she's not very good until you point it out to her. That's when she starts kicking your ass. She's really embarrassed and worried that you'll think she's showing off or just trying to make you feel bad, but you love it. You love her strength. You love her showing off and almost breaking the pins with the ball. You get really awful bowling alley food and beers, and it's a really fun night despite all the drama that comes with being Starlight. It's the first time in a long time she's felt normal and safe and excited to be here, excited to be herself. You're not shy about asking for a second date, though you know you're risking a lot by wanting to be with her. She makes that known before anything else.

[chevroletdean]

you always meet twice ── ✮⋆˙🥃📞

pairing: dean x gn!reader genre: fluff, dash of angst if you squint to note/warnings: set around season 10, mentions of the mark of cain, dean being a grumpy old man, cute first meetings, miscommunication word count: 2.8k

a/n: this is random, i just wanted to write more fluff, since you guys were so nice about the last one. thank you again, i didn't expect so much positive feedback!

He swore that that giggle of yours could soften a demon’s black heart. He should know, having been one himself not too long ago.

You flashed him one last mesmerizing smile and slid something across the counter before you turned around and left the bar. His eyes lingered on you until you were through the door and out of sight. Only then did he dare to glance down towards your little goodbye gift, which he swiftly grabbed and carried back to Sam’s booth.

“Seriously?” Sam scoffed, the crooked grin on his lips reflecting a mixture of disbelief and belittling. “What is this, the 2000s?”

None of that seemed to bother his older brother, who was all toothy, boyish grin and lit up eyes as he proudly flaunted the napkin in front of Sam’s nose. Numbers were scribbled on it in black ink, clearly a phone number.

Was it a little old-fashioned? Maybe, but didn’t that make it all the more charming? Dean certainly seemed to think so and even though it must’ve been about 10 years or so ago since he last had anyone write their number down for him like this, he thought he deserved a sliver of joy.

“They even wrote ‘xoxo’ next to it, dude,” Dean boasted. “What’s that mean again, love and hearts or whatever?”

“Hugs and kisses, Dean. It means hugs and kisses,” Sam corrected him with a sigh. His brother was a lost cause.

The little symbols were about as cheesy as the act of the whole number on a napkin thing and Dean was eating it up with a giddiness that could only be matched by a lovesick teenager. You’d think after about two decades of acting like a flirtatious heartthrob, he’d either mature or be harder to impress.

“Either way,” Dean beamed proudly, “I’m still in the game.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up, but he refrained from any witty remarks and settled for a snort instead. It’s been a while since he’s seen Dean’s lips curled upwards – after a couple of rough weeks and many setbacks, it was good to see him smile again.

He’s been to hell and back, literally and figuratively, and after all the worrying about the Mark of Cain, recovering from being a literal demon, and the usual apocalyptic sense of dread, who was Sam to deny him his fun?

Turns out he’d have his little moment ruined hours later anyway, and not even by Sam or any of his teasing comments.

He must’ve slept horribly or maybe the lack of leads in this case was starting to frustrate him.

It was unclear what exactly caused the switch to flip, but the grin from last evening that had reached from one ear to another was nowhere to be seen anymore. Ever since they left the motel and drove into town, he was back to his grumpy self.

Sam nearly flinched as Dean slammed the door of the Impala shut a little harsher than necessary. Dean’s brows were furrowed in frustration as he practically stomped into the diner. His little brother followed suit, barely making it through the door while it was still open. They took a seat and ordered some breakfast.

Despite knowing he wouldn’t get an explanation, Sam tried anyway.

“What’s up with you today?”

Dean shot him a glare that not only signaled he’d refuse to answer, but could also suffice for straight up daggers. He took a demonstratively large gulp of his coffee. “Can we just focus on the case, Sammy?”

Focus on the case was rarely what Dean wanted to do, not when he had a potential fling going on anyway. Which could only mean one thing.

“No luck with your napkin sweetheart?” Sam teased, seemingly hitting a sore spot as Dean slammed the coffee cup back onto the table with a clatter.

“The case, Sam,” he repeated insistently.

Right on the money then. What else would rile him up into such an irritable mood?

Giving in — albeit he did a terrible job at concealing a gloating grin —, Sam booted up his laptop and went through the files. It was all pretty straightforward: Bunch of people went missing over the past few days, one of their bodies having turned up with their blood drained. Vampires, likely, though Sam and Dean had yet to find the nest or talk to anyone in relation to the victims.

“There’s this one college student that went missing two days ago, usually never misses a class or a shift at their part-time-job,” Sam spoke and turned the laptop around for Dean to look at the missing person alert. “We could split up, talk to one of their professors and a coworker.”

“Fabulous,” Dean grumbled, using his fork to stab holes into his slice of pie. His mind was clearly elsewhere. Presumably on a certain someone he had met last night – and was stood up by, apparently.

“Seriously, what happened?” Sam half-groaned, half-grinned. There was some genuine concern in his voice. Even if the situation was kind of amusing – it didn’t happen often that someone was able to humble Dean like this –, he knew his brother was on edge already.

Anger and bottling up feelings were always his specialty, but with the Mark of Cain still attached to his arm, they should probably not risk any major stress.

Dean grumbled something inaudible, half of his words swallowed by the coffee cup, the rim of which was pressed against his lips. Sam only thought he heard something along the lines of ‘wrong number’ and gave a confused “What was that?” in response.

“Whatever,” Dean groaned. “Any contacts, an address?”

Sam nodded and told him the address of the coworker. With Dean’s shitty mood, he’d rather not bring him to campus to scare away any freshmen. So, they separated for the time being, Sam heading to the university while Dean made his way to that address downtown.

On his way there, he fished for his phone again. And the napkin.

He had tried to dial the number earlier this morning and (much to his obvious dismay) the call had not gone through. He typed it in again, number for number, double-checking each digit individually. Maybe he had somehow gotten it mixed up in his half sleepy state earlier?

‘The number you have called is not available. Please check the number and dial again. The number you have called is n–’

Dean definitely didn’t get it wrong, comparing the number on his screen and the napkin again.

With a scoff, he shoved his phone back into his pocket, exchanging it for his F.B.I. badge instead. Grumbling to himself, his feet dragged him past a picket fence – each step heavy-footed – and up a porch, where he rang the doorbell.

As for why you’d trick him like that by giving him a wrong number, was beyond him. You could’ve just said no when he asked for your contacts, so why go through the hassle to be this mean about a rejection?

Unless he somehow had made you uncomfortable last night, although he could not for the love of it remember anything but your bright smile throughout the whole conversation. In fact, you had eagerly nodded when he offered to buy you another drink.

The soft creaking of the door disrupted his thoughts. By default habit, he already held up his badge, deciding to focus on the task at hand. Sam would be giving him a handful if he got too distracted during a case.

“Special Agent Murray, could I–?”

His introduction died on his tongue as his gaze fell upon a dazzling and oddly familiar smile. A heartbeat later and said smile vanished from those lips, which then twisted into a surprised O-shape.

“I don’t remember writing my address down,” you chuckled. Nervously. But not the kind of nervousness he would’ve expected from someone who had practically dumped him in the shittiest way possible.

The quip itself was somehow unfitting, considering those circumstances.

Who knew the coworker of the victim would be you, of all people, in a rather big town like this?

“Special Agent, huh?” Your smile was back on your lips, the intrigued spark in your eyes resembling that of last evening, and confusing him only further. “Am I in trouble, did I commit a crime?”

If handing out false numbers was a crime—

Dean cleared his throat and averted his gaze. He briefly fidgeted around with his badge, struggling to put it away again. Maybe that extra cup of coffee at the diner earlier was a mistake. As if it wasn’t already awkward enough. He wasn’t keen on making a fool out of himself further, so he decided to get this job over with as quickly as possible.

“I have a few questions about Daniel Anderson,” he said, tone dry as bone and honestly, rather hostile. “I take it you are his coworker?”

You blinked up at him, your smile fading once more. It was almost as if you were half-intimidated by his grumpy demeanor, but did you really expect a warm reunion?

“Uhm, yeah,” you mumbled, almost meekly, and opened the door further, stepping aside to make room for him. “Come on in, please. Would you like some coffee?”

Dean was led to the living room, where you gestured towards the seating options – a small couch and an armchair. Even though he just had about a gallon of it, he accepted your offer and settled on the couch.

While you were busy in the kitchen, he glanced around the room. A small but cozy living space and a pair of shoes kicked into the corner of the entrance that he definitely recognized. So you weren’t some lost twin of last night’s encounter.

“Excuse the mess,” you chuckled shyly, again with a warmth that exceeded his expectations. “I mean, you know how it is, I got home pretty late last night and have not had the chance to clean up yet.”

How come you were able to brush off this palpable tension with such ease? He was practically dying on the inside here while you, without hesitation, sat down next to him instead of the armchair and handed him the cup of coffee.

Dean once again cleared his throat, taking a sip of your coffee – as if somehow the caffeine could counteract his nerves instead of fray them further.

“About Mr. Anderson,” he began, clearly not wanting to dive into the topic of last night. If he didn’t know it any better, he swore he could see a flicker of disappointment in your eyes.

Your answers to his questions matched what Sam already found out. Your coworker was last seen coming to work three days ago, punctual as always, then wasn’t seen again. Apparently he had been the last to leave the office, which wasn’t unusual, since he’d often work overtime. A diligent guy, from the sounds of it, despite working only minimum wage and managing his studies at the same time.

“I thought I haven’t seen you around town before,” you hummed, eyeing him up and down briefly in a way that made him feel naked despite his suit. “No wonder, if you’re a federal agent working a case here. I gotta say, you can pull off a tie just as much as the flannel.”

That caught Dean off guard for several reasons. One being the fact that you were even more assertive when sober, apparently. The more obvious one, however, remained your previous rejection of course. He could not wrap his head around the concept of you flirting with him now.

You in no way looked anything remotely guilt ridden or embarrassed. If anything, your responses to his gruff attitude were mellow in fashion. And you still subtly brushed your knee against his despite everything. Were you messing with him?

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” you mumbled, hesitant for the first time today. “You can show up at my doorstep, but you can’t give me a call?”

Huh?

His widened eyes and the deadpan silence in the room seemed to go straight over your head.

“Well, I guess you’re busy with work,” you sighed with a crooked grin on your lips. “You should’ve told me, giving a special agent your number is kind of embarrassing.”

That was your problem, his line of work? Well, in that regard, he couldn’t be too hypocritical. He was as much of a special agent as your number was real, after all. Still, he was done with your games.

“I did give you a call,” Dean huffed. “Or tried to anyway, but you already figured that, I bet.”

Now it was your time to look all puzzled, at least until Dean pulled out phone and pocket. He dialed your number and put his phone on speaker. If in some twisted joke the third time would be the charm now, he’d feel really stupid.

But as expected, the error announcement came through the speaker once more: ‘The number you have called is not available. Please check the number and dial again.’

The color drained from your face first, before a redness crept up your neck. Your gaze flickered back and forth between Dean’s phone and his glare.

Then you burst out into laughter. Your cheeks were flushed in a bright pink while you hastily scrambled to find your own phone.

“You think this is funny, sweetheart?” Dean sighed, damn near pouting.

You didn’t reply, just snatched the napkin out of his hands. Your fingers were warm against his, since you had them wrapped around your own coffee mug moments earlier.

“Double-awkward, I gave a special agent the wrong number, oops,” you giggled and facepalmed.

Oops?

Dean was about to retort something, clearly unappreciative of the way you were still trying to make up excuses.

But you remained unfazed. More than unfazed: You reached out to his lapel, those warm fingers of yours wrapping around the pen in his chest pocket. All he could do was stay frozen in place as you crossed out the last two digits on the napkin and rewrote them above – in reverse order.

“You switched them up,” he mumbled, more of a realization than a question.

“I get clumsy when I’m nervous,” you smiled softly, rubbing the back of your neck and nodding apologetically.

You did not fail to notice how Dean’s eyes lit up again. That scowl, the harsh line on his forehead, they melted away. Some of that boyish, cheeky grin replaced his gruff facade.

“Nervous,” he echoed and his smug smirk confirmed his returned confidence. He had made you nervous last evening, huh?

“What did you think I needed that second whiskey sour for,” you giggled with that gentle edge that turned his heart into mush.

He knew right away that he wanted to see you like this more often, flustered, because of him no less. Enough to give you trouble thinking straight.

“How about you run a test-call, just to make sure I didn’t mix it up again,” you suggested.

It took him a solid three or so seconds to process your words and then he flinched, fumbling around with his inner pockets in too obvious of a desperation. Once again, he cleared his throat, realizing this must’ve been the dozenth time or so you got him this flustered. You really knew how to keep someone on their toes, whether it was on purpose or not, huh?

Dean dialed the updated number and surely enough, the buzzing vibration of your phone eased his anxiety once and for all.

“And here I was, thinking you were trying to mess with me,” he laughed breathlessly, to which your smile softened into a pout. Clearly you weren’t fond of the idea of upsetting him in this manner.

At least for a split second, before it widened into a mischievous smirk.

“I don’t know if that would go against the law,” you hummed teasingly, “But I’m an upstanding citizen and if you were to arrest me, I’d hope it would be under different circumstances.”

With that and a wink, you took the empty cups from the coffee table and made your way to the kitchen again. Like last night, Dean was left letting his gaze follow you until you weren’t to be seen anymore. As he snapped out of it, he stood up and headed towards the entrance.

“Call me if you hear anything from Daniel,” you smiled at him as you hurried to open the door for him. “Or, you know, in general.”

Dean chuckled briefly, the first time he’s laughed properly today, and gave you a nod. On his way out, he practically skipped his steps down the porch, to which you couldn’t help but grin.

By the time Dean met up with Sam again, he was humming happily to himself. Sam raised an eyebrow at his sunshine-giddy brother, scanning him up and down.

“What happened to you?”

“I’m still in the game, Sammy.”

links/credits: ao3 ──〃★ dividers ──〃★ request here taglist: comment with a green heart 💚if you want to be added to the dean x reader taglist from now on

[nightwngz]

Older bat! Damian with super or wonder reader who's like sheltered and oblivious to the real world and they go on a mission or smith together and the whole times she's just doing whatever he says because that's what she's used to and he's just like damnn and finds that really attractive

— 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 ! ☆

older!damian wayne x fem!reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀… drabble smut. porn with a plot. dirty talk. fingering. Damian uses Arabic nicknames.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. . . no copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.

𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. . . as I said in my other posts, English is not my first language. I have tried to make corrections with the translator, but as you all know, it is prone to making mistakes, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if anything sounds weird.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲… I don't know how I feel about myself today, but I decided to write this for you anyway. I hope you like it. <3

It was one of the first times you, a young girl exiled from the real world and born on an island paradise inhabited only by women, had contact with what was considered 'the real world.' You were not yet accustomed to many things, especially the existence of men, or perhaps men like Damian Wayne.

On Themyscira, you were used to following orders. When the Queen or your trainer told you to "do this," you knew exactly what to do. But when you joined the Justice League and met Batman, you initially believed you were supposed to act the same way. You soon realized that maybe you should have listened when Jon told you to ignore him completely.

At that moment, Damian Wayne, now known as Batman, was the last person you wanted to be trapped with in a situation like this. The two of you were locked in a reinforced room with no way out, where neither your strength nor your wits could help you get out. So you found yourself trapped with the one man who liked to bark orders like he was the king of Gotham.

— You really don't know what to do? — He asked, annoying you again. — Before, Wonder Women were effective.

However, you tried to heed Jon's advice; thus, you responded to him without intending to participate in his game.

— Yes, and in my land, men didn't even exist. So I'm just getting used to working with the inefficiency of one.

Damian slowly approached the box you were sitting in with an annoying grin on his face.

— In fact, I am a detective. Of course I know how to get out of here.

Your confused expression made him smile even harder at your confusion. You weren't sure if it was fair to feel like a complete idiot, but that was exactly how you felt at that moment. Besides, you didn't like him at all.

— And you never thought to open the door, or are you just trying to annoy me by making me live with you?

— Actually... — He replied, moving even closer to you. — I'm testing you. Go and open the door as best you can — He finally ordered.

And as if it were a sacred word, you stood up, determined to open the door to the room at any cost. At first, you tried to break it down with blows, but your strength wasn't enough. It was probably made of some incredibly strong material, possibly of alien origin.

— Try pulling the doorknob with your lasso — he suggested, and once again, you listened.

Damian couldn't help but find the way you obeyed like a trained dog incredibly attractive. Deep down, he felt that he had you at his mercy and that no matter what he asked you to do, you would listen.

Totally exhausted from the effort, you knelt on the ground, but you didn't give up. Feeling sorry for you, he reached over to stroke your hair, trying to calm you down.

— Pretty obedient little thing. — He flattered, lifting your chin so you could look him in the eye. — You don't know how to say no, do you?

A wave of intense heat enveloped you. Perhaps it was the first time you had ever found yourself in an intimate situation with someone, as you had always believed that your body was trained solely for an impending war. Yet, when Damian was around, that was the one purpose of your training you occasionally forgot.

— If I asked you to take off your underwear, would you be so obedient, habibati?

Your cheeks reddened immediately. You knew you should avoid this kind of situation, but having been trained on the island, you understood that you had to follow the orders of a superior. Batman was more experienced than you, making him your superior, and you felt obligated to obey him.

Immediately your panties fell down under the metal skirt of your suit, exposing your pussy to the man in the room.

From what you knew about men, you noticed they often looked for specific qualities in women. However, Damian had never shown any boldness towards you. As time passed, the 'sexual tension' that Jon had mentioned began to feel more like an annoyance.

When he saw that you were listening to him, he smiled as usual. But his smile was not one of despair; it was one of desire.

He knelt down to be at the same height as you. Gently, he slid a finger down your soaked pussy while keeping his eyes on yours, watching for any reaction on your face.

You understood what he was doing and how he was touching every part of the anatomy between your legs with precision. What you didn't understand was how he was so skilled at it.

You couldn't hold back your moans as you felt him gently pinch your now throbbing clit. His touch drove you crazy as you felt waves of pleasure crash against you.

— Damn, what a good girl. Sorry to tell you, Habibati... I have a weakness for obedient women.

[luveline]

jade if I’m not too late and requests are still open, can you write bombshell!reader and spence’s first kiss? secretly I think it would be funny if the team saw a hickey on her neck or something that she didn’t expect but oh how I love how soft she is for spence

ty for your request ♡ fem, 1.2k

"It's classic, comfortable anger-excitation," you say, hitting the flat of your ballpoint pen against your fingertip, a repetitive tap. "But his geographical profile is everywhere. No one place is untouched, but if he's as practised as we think he is, he'd kill away from home." 

"Then he's not practised, he's an expert," Hotch says in the seat beside you. "He knows to divert our attention." 

Your tapping increases. Spencer takes a few steps back and puts his hand over yours. You glance up at him. He mimes a deep breath for you to copy. You do it without complaint. 

You're so focused on being perfect that sometimes you forget to breathe. You're very good at being perfect, in Spencer's opinion, perfect hair, perfect face, perfect frenetic hands. And you're doubly perfect at whatever this is, smiling at him with an unquantifiable emotion in what's probably the prettiest set of eyes on planet Earth. 

Spencer puts your pen on your notebook and goes back to his board. The locations of each murder are tacked into a map. You weren't kidding when you said everywhere. 

You're in one of the poorest places in America, and the police station reflects that. There's no conference room for you guys to work undisturbed, and the beat cops and deputy alike can hear and see everything you're doing. Most have the manners to leave you alone, but you're you; you tend to draw attention. 

You've taken up the pen again, clicking and unclicking incessantly. It's an annoying sound but you're not aware that you're doing it, too determined on cracking the case before anything worse happens. Your team knows to ignore you, or even to disarm you. Emily snags the pen from your hand with a friendly laugh. "Jesus, you're tightly wound today." 

"Mm," you murmur, struggling to pull yourself from your notes. A few more seconds and you look up with a blinding smile, "That's because Spencer skimped on my neck massage last night." 

"Come on, pretty boy," Morgan says, though his heart isn't truly in it, "I thought you knew better." 

Spencer shakes his head. You and Spencer had very separate hotel rooms and no sensual touching occurred, but he loves how happy this running joke makes you, so he stays quiet. 

"He knows everything," you say, backtracking, "That's why he's gonna make me a cup of coffee. He knows exactly how I like it." 

He leaves to make you a cup of coffee, but he was heading that way anyway for his own. He's thinking to himself that coffee is a bad idea and that he wishes he was better at saying no to you when you follow him in, your arms already open as you close the two or three steps to his chest and hug him over the shoulders. 

"You didn't say anything when you left," you worry, your embrace overwhelming, sweet and soft and with a loving squeeze to round it off. "I wasn't being bossy, was I?" 

You can be, but not this time. "Shut up, you know I'll make you a cup of coffee whenever you want it." 

"That so?" you ask. 

There's an excess energy you haven't managed to kick today racing through you. He can see the restlessness in your smile, no matter how glitzy. 

"Are you okay?" he asks. 

Spencer's poorly kept secret is that he's obsessed with you. You dote on him, you tease him, you torture him, but Spencer wants all of it and more. He likes being the centre of your attention, loves how your fond flirtation has changed to plain affection, and he would do anything you asked him to if it meant you were gonna kiss his cheek at the end. He thinks you're beautiful and electric and a thousand yards out of his league, and he thinks you're the nicest woman they ever made under all your bravado because not once have you encouraged that line of thought —you like him for him. You don't want him to change. You don't need anything from him he can't give to you. 

His simple question transforms you, your glossy lips perking immediately into a smile. "Why wouldn't I be okay?" 

"You seem tense. I've never given a massage before, but I can actually try," he offers. 

Your hand cups his cheek, your voice aglow with a saccharine quality, "You're lovely, that's why. Maybe I'll take you up on it later–" 

"It's not like–" 

You'd been attempting a sweet thank you, and Spencer was brushing it off, but somewhere in the middle of it you'd gone up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Spencer —idiot, uncoordinated, inexperienced, is going to hate himself later Spencer— turned away from your touch to argue with you, directing your lips against his. 

Soft, sticky, pretty lips pressed to his. 

You set back on your heels quickly. Your eyes are wide, beautiful but flared in shock, a sheepishness tugging your brows together as you say, "I'm so sorry." 

"It's my fault," he says quickly, braceleting your wrist in his hand, "I'm sorry–" 

You both lean back in for a second kiss at the same time. Spencer's head angled down and your chin tipped ever so slightly upward, you close your eyes as he closes his, completely silent. It's not often you're quiet. Spencer doesn't mean to, but he kisses too hard, too much, forcing your hand from his cheek as he grabs you either side of the head to keep you in his reach. 

Your breath comes out in a huff that lights his nerve endings on fire, the barest hint of your voice tacked to it like a sigh of relief, like you're taking the edge off in the circle of his arms. Spencer's hand slides behind your head to hook you in, your lips parting at the seam from the pressure. You feel the heat of him and respond with vigour, your hand a nagging demand at the small of his back, pulling him closer, closer, as his other hand trails down your arm. 

Your elbow bumps the coffee mugs, it really is his fault, and you spring away from him like you think you've been caught. Smiling, a kid with her hand in the cookie jar, you throw your gaze around the room to check you're still alone before stepping forward to laugh against his mouth. 

That's a good sound. A great reaction. You have more patience than Spencer, dotting kisses thick with lip gloss up into his top lip, your mouth just open enough for him to feel faint. 

"It was really an accident," he says between shorter, kinder kisses. 

"I know," you murmur, words smushed. You steal a last rather frantic one before you stop, breathing funny, hands smoothing down the hair you'd mussed initially with sorry tenderness. "Was that okay?" 

He puts his hand on your hip, refusing to gratify what feels like a silly question with a response when you can't not know he's been wanting to kiss you for weeks. Maybe months. "Are you sure you're fine?" 

You smile at him like you know something he doesn't. "I'm sure, Spence. I think I just needed to do that." 

[honeypiehotchner]

kiss her, you fool (Hotch x fem!Reader) -- one shot

Anyway I'm back in the fucking building again!!!! Listened to "Kiss Her You Fool" by Kids That Fly and had this one shot written in like an hour. The love for Aaron Hotchner never dies apparently

Summary: You're in the middle of spring cleaning when Aaron calls and says he forgot something at your place (he didn't).

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff! I just wanted to write some romance

It’s the middle of the day and you’re in the middle of a cleaning frenzy when your phone rings for what looks like the third time. It’s Aaron.

“Hey! Sorry,” you laugh, grabbing the TV remote to pause your music, phone pressed to your ear with your shoulder. “I’m spring cleaning and clearly way too far in the zone. What’s up?”

“That’s okay,” you can hear him smiling as you readjust your phone in your hand. “Would it be alright if I stopped by? I think I left something there last night.”

You furrowed your brows, spinning around the living room. You definitely would’ve noticed if he left something here last night. You’ve practically turned your entire apartment upside down to clean it.

“Are you sure?” you ask, moving to lift the couch cushions for a third time. “What was it?”

“I’m not sure,” he says, which totally isn’t suspicious at all. “Can I just come look?”

“I mean,” you let out an awkward laugh. “I guess you can. I’ve been cleaning since this morning, though, so I think I would’ve spotted it, but—”

“I’ll be there in fifteen,” he says. “If that’s okay?”

You sigh, selfishly glad you’re getting to see him again, two days in a row. It feels like you’ve hit the jackpot. “Yeah, of course it’s okay.”

“Great, see you in a few.”

“See you,” you bite back your grin, ending the call. You turn the music back on, a little lower so you’ll hear him when he knocks.

You have no earthly idea what he could’ve forgotten. He had his phone and jacket in hand when he left. He never took his wallet or keys out of his jacket pockets, so they must’ve stayed there. Unless either of them fell out, but again, you feel like you would’ve noticed.

Whatever it is, he’ll either find it or realize it isn’t here. Regardless, you’re getting to see him again, so you’ll take it.

With his job, the days that you do see Aaron are typically one long day spent together here and there. Yesterday was an exception, a rare dinner mid-work week because he happened to be done at the office early and you were free, so obviously the opportunity was taken advantage of. It’s only been a few weeks of seeing one another, so you both take any chance you can get. 

Despite this, though, things have moved…slow. Slower than you expected because, to be frank, every guy you’ve been with has been quick and to the point. Not that you always minded that. Sometimes you wanted the same thing — quick, hot, heavy. But those days have since left you, and you went through a period of seeing no one, aside from one guy who left as soon as you said you were interested in moving slowly. 

It’s nothing against Aaron, but when he first introduced himself at your local coffee shop, you kind of assumed he’d be the same. It’s hard not to assume when everyone acted that way, and when the men who frequent said coffee shop don’t exactly have the best track record for being polite and respectful.

Aaron, though, took weeks to ask for your number, let alone to join your table one morning to sip his coffee — and even then, you offered him the seat; he didn’t invite himself. That alone was enough for you to agree to give him your number, and then to an official first date.

He kissed your cheek after the first date, your forehead after the second, and kept to those areas alone. You found yourself wondering if something was wrong with you somehow, but he wasn’t disinterested. Quite the opposite, actually, from how he held your hand and kept his arms around you, how he made sure you were safely inside your apartment before heading off, how he still texted when he arrived home to ask you if you were still safely inside.

Or when he had to cancel a date last minute, and sent flowers to your apartment in lieu of his presence. He apologized over the phone, but the flowers had an apology note attached too. And another apology when he arrived at your door four days later, fresh off the plane, with a real explanation of his job and why he didn’t have time to explain it all to you before he left.

Your friends think it’s a little crazy, that it’s been almost a month of dating and there hasn’t been a single kiss — “On the cheek doesn’t count!” they argue. You think it does. If anything, you’re just happy there’s no pressure.

The underlying anxiety is there, sure, of what if it never happens? But you can’t bring yourself to entertain the thought. Mainly because you want to kiss him so bad, you’re practically going to leap onto him one of these days.

You’re mid-dance when a knock sounds on your door and you jump, having forgotten Aaron said he would be here soon. You turn the music down as you head for the door, unlocking it to let him in.

He stands there in his usual dark suit, sans tie this time so the top buttons are undone, bouquet of flowers in hand and dumb smile on his face.

“What are these for?” you ask when he hands them to you. 

He steps inside and shuts the door, pausing to press a kiss to your forehead. “Because I wanted to.”

You give him a look, cheeks feeling warm. “If you keep doing this ‘because you want to,’ I’m gonna need to open a flower truck,” you joke, gesturing to the other vase of flowers sitting in your window. And there’s another in the bathroom. And one in your bedroom. 

“Just let me know what kind of truck you want,” he teases.

You press the flowers to your nose to hide your smile. “Oh, what did you forget? You’re welcome to look for it, but—”

He lets out a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I might have lied.”

“I knew you were, you idiot,” you swat playfully at his arm. You turn to head into the kitchen in search of another vase. “I got off the phone and paced around like what did he possibly leave here? I figured maybe your wallet or something, but I definitely would’ve found it earlier. You should’ve seen the living room this morning — I had the couch on its side and the coffee table in the middle of the hallway—”

You’re in the middle of rambling, digging around under the sink for a vase, when Aaron pulls you up by your hand, spinning you to face him.

“—it was a disaster trying to vacuum. Remind me never to do that unless you’re over here to lift all of it. I think I nearly—”

He’s smiling at you, and you don’t have a single moment to spare to register that he’s leaning in before his lips are on yours. 

You sigh into the kiss, pleasantly surprised to be interrupted in this way, and glad your hands are free so you can hold onto him. Maybe this is why it’s good he hadn’t kissed you yet — one second of it and you’re ready to collapse under the sweet weight of it all. His arms circle your waist to lift you up, and your arms circle his neck, keeping him close. As close as you’ve really wanted him.

When you finally break for air, it’s only to press your foreheads against one another’s, not wanting to move too far.

“Well,” you laugh.

“Technically,” he says, pausing to peck your nose, “that’s what I forgot last night.”

You roll your eyes. “You are so stupid.”

“Mm, just because it makes you smile,” he says, kissing your lips again, and again. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Ideally,” you pause, letting him kiss you again, “ordering dinner in and making out with my boyfriend until the sun rises. You?”

“You know, I was thinking about taking someone special out to dinner,” he pauses, pulling you closer again, “and then kissing her until she tells me to stop.”

“That could be forever, for all you know.”

“That’s fine with me.”

You grin and he kisses you again, pausing to say, “Sorry, I can’t help myself—”

“Trust me,” you move even closer, your eyelashes practically touching his cheeks when you blink, “you don’t need to apologize.”

He responds by kissing you some more, and more, until he’s lifting you into his arms and placing you on the kitchen counter. 

“Aaron!” you squeal, nearly crushing the bouquet. “Let me move the flowers at least!”

“I’ll buy you another,” he says, just a whisper away from kissing you again. 

“You know—” You have to pause in between words as he presses his lips to yours. “—I still have—cleaning—Aaron,” you giggle. “I need to put my apartment back together.”

“Do you?” he asks, relenting only slightly, his fingertips pressing into your lower back, keeping you against him. “Do you need help?”

“I do actually,” you chuckle, running your fingers through his hair. “The couch isn’t back where it was.”

He smirked. “I noticed.”

You tug on his hair slightly to tease him for that jab, only it lights a new spark behind his eyes. Your cheeks grow even warmer. “No, seriously,” you say. “It’ll stress me out if it’s not back in its spot, but then…”

He nods, kissing your lips. “Then we’ll get ready for dinner.”

“And then come back here for a movie?”

“We’ll see how much of the movie we actually pay attention to,” he smirks, eyes traveling all over your face. 

The urge to let him ravish you right now against the kitchen counter is so strong it nearly makes you lightheaded. But soon Aaron is helping you down, pressing another kiss to your forehead. 

“Did you get to vacuum under the couch all the way?”

“…kind of.”

“Come on,” he chuckles, pulling on your hand, leading you back into the living room. “Call me next time?”

“If I get kissed like that during spring cleaning then I’m doing it every day,” you reply, mostly joking. Kind of. “Fuck I forgot the vase for the flowers—”

Aaron kisses you to interrupt you once again. “One thing at a time,” he says.

The kissing doesn’t stop, and you never do get to vacuum under the couch. It can wait.

[notsodailycake]

Part 3 for the fitclet I did for @keferon 's mecha pilot jazz au! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

For those who missed it:

Part 1 || Part 2

This is probably the longest out of all the 3 parts, dear god, I went all in. It came out bigger than I ever expected it to be. I was not expecting it to go this far honestly, but the parasites in me, they begged for more. So here we are! :D

Again tho, idk how in character they will be here, but I tried my best ＼(*T▽T*)／. Also, kinda bullshitted my way through in worldbuilding bc idk how things work exactly- and I had to come up with stuff on my own, even tho I'm not that good in mecha world stuff, so I'm sorry for any inaccuracies ^^;;

Now, to give credit to those who so desperately deserve it:

My sister @saltynsassy31 for helping me when I couldn't write out some of my ideas and doing it herself (so consider this as a bit of a frankenstein monster of both our writing styles, mainly during intense scenes. If there is any fancy words in this, it's cuz of her) and being my beta reader for this part. Seriously yall, this wouldn't have been as coherent and well written without her help!

Also huge thanks to my online sister @yayadrawsthingz for helping out when I hit a few road blocks during this!

And finally, a huge huge thanks to my honorary online uncle @hexyz09 for helping me finish off the final fight scene when I got stuck during some plot holes and road blocks, or generally just writing myself into a corner and having to help me leave it, despite not knowing jackshit about the au, let alone the ship and characters themselves, but was still willing to help me through in working on the plot, in this crazy obsession of mine XD

Yall have no idea how much help these guys were. Probably wouldn't be able to finish without either of their help ᕦ(òωóˇ)ᕤ

Oh and an honourable shoutout to the song "Headlock" by Imogen Heap! Kept listening to this on loop as it kept my drive up to write this.

Now onto the fic!

---

Prowl ignored Jazz's various attemps to push out his servo from the cockpit. Despite the mech being weak himself, the human was still no match against thousands of pounds of metal, especially in his own weakened state.

Which was a matter of its own at the moment. Prowl knew he had very little time to be able to run ahead before the other humans caught on to them, having noticed the alarm bells ringing through the facility.

So he ran towards the exit Jazz had initially pointed out, the only plan they had at the moment.

...

"Prowl! Prowler, hey! I know you can hear me! Prowl!" Jazz shouted as he slammed yet another fist in a failed attempt to nudge the bot's servo out of the way. He hasn't said a word since picking Jazz up, and he wasn't sure how long that was, maybe not that much, but it felt too long yet too little at the same time (what a headache).

Sliding down, he gently hit his forehead over the protective servo and let out a sigh of defeat. No way he could get him to move like this.

Why was he trying to anyways? Didn't he want to be with Prowl? He certainly did, but somehow, something in him made him feel like he shouldn't just be accepting this.

And maybe Prowl also knew this, which is why he took off and hasn’t said a word since. Both held conflicted feelings about the whole thing. If only things didn't feel so blurry right now!

Suddenly, a hard shift made Jazz stumble a bit, grasping at whatever he could so he didn't fall back, loud noises of metal scrapping metal could be heard as something got kicked open on the outside. Jazz scrambled over to the small crevice that opened between Prowl's digits, not enough for him to fit anything over other than his hand, but enough to get a glimpse of what was happening outside.

Prowl had kicked down the exit door to the lab ('not like he had the hands available to properly open the damn thing anyways' Jazz thought to himself). It was meant for mechas to exit the room after they finish off whatever it is they do in here, that Jazz knew, and if he was right, just down the hall there will be another exit leading to the backroom where they stockpiled the mech suits. No one but the technicians were usually supposed be there, it would be an easy fight to get to the big gate that lead to the outside training grounds, which is why Jazz had pointed for the mech to go down there in the first place.

There shouldn't have been a problem besides giving him time to leave unscathed. Which Jazz assumed would not be the case as he was currently inside Prowl and not buying him time to escape. But, to Jazz's surprise, nothing had come close to attacking them, yet.

The pilot did not have much time to contemplate it as suddenly he heard Prowl rumble an annoyed grunt.

"Don't move."

In shock, Jazz stumbled back as Prowl removed his hand and reached for the end of the overhead gate, seemingly alot harder to kick down than a two way door. The only thing it would really do would be to bend the metal a bit but it wouldn't give an open entrance. Jazz didn't dare leave, not like he could from this hight, but even if he could, Prowl would probably just pick him up again; it be a waste of energy really (just admit it, you don't want to leave him). But something about this felt wrong, so far they haven't had a single guard come down the hall, just this small pause would give them enough time to catch up to the two runaways, Jazz was sure that guards had been on his tail when he was under his rampage.

Unless...

Wait.

"Prowl! Wait don't open that gate!" But he was too late, the moment he uttered those words the mech had already been in motion and pushed the gate up with all his might and as quickly as he opened it a gun shot came through the otherside. They had been waiting for them, they knew where they were heading. The bastard he kicked down prior to this probably saw them and reported it, dammit.

Prowl let out a strangled cry of pain as the shot landed right on his left shoulder (like it wasn't damaged enough by the lack of arm), Jazz fell backwards with the harsh motions, hitting the back of the pilot's seat, the impact leaving his vision to go dark for a few seconds before he collected himself as quickly as he could. In an instant though, just as he tried to get back up to see what was outside, Prowl had put his hand back over the open cockpit.

No...he wouldn't be able to fight like this, protecting him as he is would only hinder the bot to more damage. And that's exactly what Jazz intended to express to the other. "Prowl! You won't be able to fight with your hand over me! Forget about holding me inside, I won't leave, I promise!"

"That's not the point!" Prowl growled, letting out another hiss of pain as more shots were loaded, someone shouting out for them to stand down.

Prowl couldn't risk leaving Jazz exposed. Unlike the human, Prowl could take a few shots, their weapons not being strong enough to inflict any serious damage to his plating (though perhaps a bit to his exposed protoform, though he could handle it for a little while longer). But it would take one lucky shot on Jazz to have him dead in an instant, and Prowl couldn't take that chance.

It seemed like Jazz got the message, not spitting back any sort of remark about Prowl's lack of explanation.

But the mech couldn't linger too much on those thoughts, he had to get out, and fast. He was losing too much energon, and his vision was starting to get blurry, which wasn't a good sign. It didn't help that his thoughts were a hazy mess, his usual ability to think logically overthrown by the panic of needing to get out of this place while ensuring Jazz's survival.

It's not like he had much to do, though. Any possible escape hindered by the fact he couldn't use his weapons unless he risks Jazz's life to one lucky shot. Perhaps he could make a run for it, knock through the mechas in front of him and let them tumble over as he reached the final exit; it wasn’t the best plan perhaps, with at least a 19% rate of success, given he isn't in the best physical state at the moment, he probably wouldn't be strong enough to knock them over. Added to the fact the exit wasn't shut by a gate he could simply knock over easily either, like the previous one. He'd have to push it open from the bottom, and there wasn’t enough time for him to act on it.

But he'd have his back turned to the shots, reassuring Jazz's own safety, so he could perhaps risk removing his servo to push the gate open once more.

With a quick warning from his HUD telling him his energon levels were getting dangerously low, Prowl decided to take the risk, with little time left, he took a step forward making a run for it.

The mechas seemed to ready themselves for his attack, quickly positioning their weapons to target him, closing any narrow space they had between each other.

What they didn't expect was for the mech to charge his whole body weight onto them. Despite not feeling any pain, they certainly could not fight against gravity itself. They all stumbled against each other as Prowl made a mad dash to the gate. He slid on his knees and made a quick reach for the bottom of the gate, anxiously removing his hand from over the cockpit, bending over protectively as to not have anything be able to aim inside.

He could feel his spark beating fast from anxiety, they were so close, they'll be able to leave soon enough. Jazz was most certainly having a good feel to Prowl's anxious beat, the loud thruming reaching the bot's own audials was most certainly deafening to the human sitting near it.

Then, a shot.

A pop.

A blinding light.

And the beat stops.

Jazz was curling in on himself as an instinct to protect himself from the sudden burst behind him. It only took a few seconds for him to realise what that was once he couldn't hear a single beat of a spark, or the burning sensation it left, feeling his own heart stop and drop to his gut.

It felt like the world around him suddenly stopped, everything going into slow motion, with no sounds to accompany the dread. Feeling as Prowl's body leaned foward to crash on the ground.

But just as quickly as the silance came, it left. Prowl catching himself from hitting the ground with a grunt, a slam could be heard as his arm and elbow made contact with the concrete floor. His spark beating, weakly, but beating nonetheless. What felt like hours of silance was only a quick few seconds of deafening dread.

"Prowl!" Jazz called out in desperation, reaching out to hold the edges of the cockpit, so not to fall out, but to also try and comfort his anxiousness as he tried to look up at the mech's face. The mech made a sound of acknowledgement, which came out more like broken static, but didn't make much effort to move, his face scrunched up in pain, optics shut. They shot him on his back, too close to where his spark would be, causing him to skip a beat, and busting a bit of his left doorwing, but it still seemed to function somewhat.

Suddenly, both of them picked up on the sound of something opening, giving no time for either to fully process what had just occurred. Prowl made a quick move to get his hand over the cockpit once more (with slight struggle as he stumbled and fell on his aft) as a thick metal slab emerged from above and beneath, right in front of the gate, shutting it close with a protective layer of metal. Guessing by the red alarm ringing around them, an emergency protocol to keep anyone from leaving. Slag.

The mechas surrounded them, guns all aimed to shoot at the alien mech if he didn't comply.

It was silent for a brief moment, in exception to Prowl's anxious beating spark (which wasn't a problem for Jazz at the moment, the burning warmth being somewhat comforting) and Jazz's own heart beating over his ears. Both catching their breaths.

"There's no point in fighting. So make this easy for all of us and surrender yourselves." A nobody pilot finally spoke out, weapon leaning a tad closer than the others.

The atmosphere felt heavy, they were pinned down. Really, the only thing they could do was surrender, but Jazz would sure as hell be reprimanded for his actions and Prowl.....he didn’t want to think about that. No, he wouldn't even allow that thought to become any sort of reality.

"Prowl" he whispered, knowing only the mech would hear him, leaning a gentle souch to his servo as if to beg, "I know you might not have alot of trust 'n me, but this might be our best shot." There was a tense shift, not too noticeble unless you could see the mechanisms from the inside, Prowl knew what he was about to suggest. "You need to let me pilot you." He cringed as he felt the other's servo stiffen, he wasn't pleased with the idea, and neither was Jazz, but he knew this place alot better than Prowl did, and knew how to properly defeat the mechas, knowing their weak spots. And Prowl was all too aware of that too, Jazz knew it. They both were very aware of it all.

"Please," he begged, leaning his forehead on the mech's servo yet again, "I can't lose you again." There was slight shift, Jazz looked up, though he obviously couldn't see the mech's face, the sigh he let out was loud and clear. The controls on the pilot's seat shifted, Jazz got the message:

'Alright'

He couldn't help but let a small smirk creep over his face, making way to sit down and start piloting.

"Under one condition though," Prowl suddenly whispered to him, though it was alot louder to Jazz on the inside.

"And what would that be, partner?" The title flew out too fast for Jazz to stop himself, feeling so natural to call Prowl partner once more. The mech didn't seem against it though.

"No removing my hand."

Jazz was left stunned for a quick second, though it felt like a minute for Prowl as he waited for a reply eagerly.

"I can work with that." Prowl let out a sigh of relief at that, allowing the human, his partner, to take control of him again.

It took a moment for Jazz to adjust himself, in the meantime, the people waited outside anxiously for the other to make a move. When Prowl finally started to shift around to stand up with a small grunt, everyone raised their guns and loaded them up, but didn't shoot just yet. The mech looked up at them with a deadly glare, but made no move to attack, his remaining arm not leaving the open cockpit for a second, he simply stood up with a slight slump to his posture, doorwings drooping down slightly. In all possible ways, he looked weak and defeated, no signs of fighting back.

One of the mechas walked closer, gun still aiming at Prowl, but it was lowered slightly. They reached a hand out expectantly.

"The pilot, hand him over." They demanded, no sympathy whatsoever.

Prowl clutched his chasis, anger pooling over in his spark, doorwings twitching up slightly, but he made no move to attack. Not yet. He heard Jazz speak to him in a low tone so only he could hear it, with a sigh, he relaxed. He slowly, very slowly, drew out his hand from the cockpit, the action in itself having the other mecha have their body relax slightly as they approached the mech, weapon being put down slightly enough, and so did the others around them. Jackpot.

Before he fully removed his servo, the mech made move to crouch down and in a swift motion swung a peed over to the mechas own, catching them off balance and knocking them down. Jazz let out a small hiss to the action, forgetting his own injured leg, but pushed on regardless.

Using the thrusters of his doorwings, they were able to balance themselves back up, Prowl's servo going back into fully protecting it's pilot once more. With most weapons being aimed up and not down, it took a delayed second to aim correctly, but it was enough time for the human and cybertronian duo to twist themselves out of harms way.

Before the fallen pilot could attempt to get up, Jazz made move to aim over the weak spot of their mecha's knee and stepped hard enough to break its mechanisms so they couldn't stand back up easily. But the glory was short lived as more shots were fired their way.

Jazz's hand twitched to move and use its weapons, but he resisted the urge with a slight huff, "Man, 's hard to fight without an arm!"

"This is none negotiable, Jazz." Prowl hissed as they made move to avoid more shots.

"I know, I know! Don't mean it makes it easier!" Jazz tried to analyse their surroundings, though it was made difficult with the many HUD warnings from all the injuries (the pilot couldn't help but mutter a broken "I'm so sorry" to his partner, whether the mech heard him or not he wasn't sure), but pushing through it, he took note of a few key details. There was a metal catwalk grate near above the mechas' heads, running with a few on ground troops, the bastard of a boss being one of the few amongst them. Near a corner stood an elevator to go up and down the area.

How that could help, Jazz wasn't sure yet.

A shot hit Prowl's arm, pain flowed through the mech as he moved out of the way once more. Jazz looked around in a frenzy to find a place to shield themselves....the mechas! Making a run for to the lifeless husks, he swivelled around between them and hid behind the many rows of mechas knowing full well that they would not risk such precious resource and money just to reach them. At least he hoped not, because he just needed a little bit of time to figure something out.

Hearing the big man call out to hold their fire was good enough indication that his idea worked.

"Ok, now we just need somethin' to distract them long enough for us to make a jump to the ceiling." Jazz explained

"The ceiling?" Prowl inquired, not so certain about his partner's ability to properly think at the moment.

Jazz rolled his eyes, but didn't make mention of the mech's tone. "It's the weakest point here, plus" he made way for Prowl to look up to where he remembered the area to be at, "there's a trap door for flying mechas and emergencies. One quick press of a button will open it up, even under "safety protocols."" Prowl let out a hum in thought, seeming to analyse the situation.

"Possible, but where is this said button?"

"Behind the elevator, by the catwalk grating on top. There's a control panel, and one big red button, can't miss it."

"Would smashing it still get it to work?"

"Yes."

"Then I don't have any complaints."

"Good, now," Jazz went back to scanning the area, "how to cause a distraction?"

"Would that broken pipe be of any use?" Prowl made an effort to twitch his head over to the direction of what he wanted Jazz to see. And just as the mech stated, there, by the first floor of the elevator, stood a broken pipe, steam coming out of it.

Jazz smirked "it would actually. If we can get somethin' to shoot at it, we might cause an explosion, giving us time to jump up without being the target anymore."

"Sounds like a plan." Prowl shrugged.

"Don't have anything to add?" Jazz asked a bit surprised.

"No, I don't." The pilot didn't push.

"Okay. Well, let's get these bastards shootin." In quick motion, they made way to the elevator, already hearing the commands to shoot fire, 'but watch for the machines!' Weapons were loaded from above as well, shooting down at the two runaways once again.

Jazz made sure to move swiftly behind the mechas, making sure they were shielded properly. Any gaps they had to cross was a small risk they needed to take, scrapes and scratches being left in its wake, but tried not to do it too often, just enough that they could follow them. They eventually reached where the pipes were, Jazz took a deep breath.

"Ready, big guy?"

"Ready."

They stepped foward, making sure to call the attention towards where they were, but quickly retrieting back behind the mechas suits as they shot directly where they wanted to hit. "Bingo."

Quickly, activating Prowl's thrusters, they leaped over to the metal grates that stood above them as the pipes behind them burst, causing a huge commotion as empty mechas fell down and whatever machine near the crossfire tumbled down. Prowl let out a gasp as he felt the world around him spin, the grating beneath them not being of any help as it shook with his weight. Jazz was quick to hold on, helping the mech stablise himself before aiming with his left foot to kick the big red button with their ticket out of here, the motion causing his vision to flash in pain, but he bit his toung until he could taste iron and pushed forward.

Hearing the metal door above them open up, Jazz readied himself, but hesitated with the warning he'd received from Prowl's HUD from his low energon levels. He didn’t even get the chance to fully check on it though, Prowl quickly pushing them out of the way himself.

"I'll live, just one more push." The mech hastily reassured the human. Jazz wasn't inclined to belive it though, feeling the other's spark beat anxiously (and for some reason that made him feel slightly dizzy. Though he chalked it up to it being his possible concussion).

It took one shot to slip an inch away from Prowl's face for them to finally snap out of it and jump. One more push from his thrusters as they flew up through the trap door and landed on top of the roof with a grunt, the mech's left wing finally giving out.

But they weren’t in the clear yet. Looking out, a wasteland of a forest awaited them, with dense trees at the bottom.

"We'll have to make a jump for it. If we're lucky enough the trees will be big enough to hide us." Jazz supplied.

"45% of that happening. But we don't have much of another option at the moment." Prowl added

With all that being said, Jazz moved into action. With so much at stake, he had to, he couldn't waste another second in debating. Hefting Prowl up, he used all remaining strength to jump where they needed to go, but as the training grounds began to get closer than anticipated, Prowl knew they didn’t make the jump and that made the mech almost freeze.

Though Jazz had other plans, because as their impending flat doom approached in rapid speed, Prowl's remaining thruster burst to life and gave that final impusle they needed to reach the slope. They both braced themselves as they were thrown up and over to their intended destination, Prowl having half a mind to tighten his hold over his chest so none of the debris and impact could reach the fragile human still in his care.

They rolled down the slope, Prowl just barely being able to shift himself so that he was sliding on his back instead. The aggresive motion of going down a not so smooth path causing bigger cuts and slashes against his already damaged frame. But the only thing he could think of at the moment was that they made it.

Jazz was quick to let go of his control over Prowl, who in turn made an effort to sit properly. Though the sudden slamming to his servo made him look down worriedly, moving it slightly to see Jazz leaning on it desperately.

"Prowl-" he heaved, "Prowl put me down I'm feeling sick."

The mech panicked and quickly made move to help the human down, gently placing him on the grass below. Jazz made no effort in being graceful as he hurled over and puked his guts out, luckily avoiding Prowl in all of this.

Clutching his stomach in pain, his heaving and coughs agitating the injuries on his abdomen. Everything around him felt blurry and muffled as his body made sure to get everything he had eaten in the past day out of him.

What made him panic was the sudden taste of iron in his mouth as he coughed up whatever he had left inside. That's not good. And that definitely didn't escape the giant mech's notice, who kept a hovering servo near him.

"Jazz! Is that blood?!" His voice sounded so broken, static lacing over his words.

"Uh- Yeah. Yeah it is." He wasn't sure how to deny that really, and he felt too light-headed to try. But his attention diverted to the sudden pink glow that landed at the side of his vision.

Energon.

Quickly looking up, he finally got a glance at his partner's battered condition. Energon leaked from many different parts of his body, but the main source being from his missing arm. Jazz couldn't help but cringe at that.

But what hurt him the most to see was the weak light from the mech's optics, which still held visible concern on them. Despite being close to going into offline, he still looked at Jazz as if he's about the crumble into dust and leave him. Which he honestly, maybe, felt like. But seeing Prowl's optics flicker as they fought to stay online, Jazz panicked

"What 'bout you?!" He called back, catching the bot off guard. "You're losing too much energon! You look like you're about to go offline!"

Prowl cringed a little, not having anything to counter that. "Well that's because I-"

"No! I'm only a little bit dizzy, but I'll live. We need to patch you up right now!"

"I can help with that."

The new voice catches the duo off guard, Prowl immediately reaching out to Jazz, hand shielding the human from whoever that might be. Jazz looked down from where he was looking at Prowl and turned to see who it was that the voice came from.

There standing in front of them was a human carrying a simple tool box and a huge backpack strapped over one shoulder, filled with questionable things.

---

BEFORE YOU LEAVE, a little something I would like to point out for the fic, that some of yall with either like or not, during the process of writing this, I've seen a few posts keferon made about the spark being radioactive and such, and it sorta made me think a bit while developing Jazz's condition. So well, take Jazz's health in this as you will with this info :)

But anyways, yippie!! That's all for today folks! I hope yall enjoyed this one bc I definitely had a heck of a time writing this one XD

It got alot bigger than I anticipated and took much longer to finish than I originally planned (was supposed to be done 2 days ago).

Now, I know I keep saying "not sure if I'll make another part to this" but then proceed to do so anyways. But I mainly do so because everytime I shared it someone said something that added to the story somehow and gave me ideas to continue foward.

So like, if yall liked this and wanna see more, don't be shy to suggest/add anything to this as it may help inspire me to add more onto this, cuz honestly idk what the fuck I'm doing rn, I'm just going with the flow ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Also, a bit of note for the doodle, holy shit I did not expect it to look this good!! Tho I suffered with Jazz's suit, plz ignore any inaccuracies tee-hee. Prowl's knee and hands were hell too, especially his knee, but i could like, hide most of it lmao. Actually mainly struggled to not have his hand cover Jazz too much bc it kept covering the parts I actually wanted to show off lmao.

Oh and the guy at the end? Yall can take a good guess as to who it is :)

But since he doesn't have any official design, I kinda went with whatever felt right lol.

I also really wanted to draw out more scenes to add to the fic, but then it would take me a lot more time to actually post the fic as I figure out how to draw robots :'). But maybe I can try and doodle them out another time if I can, no promises tho-

[ashwhowrites]

Hey, if you hadn't already done something like this, I was wondering if you'll write Eddie x Popular!Henderson!R, where they're sneaking around behind Dustin's back.... 1. Because Dustin looks up to him and they're friends and 2. She's not ready to let everyone know just yet (wanting to live in ignorant bliss just a little while longer before she falls under scrutiny for falling for "the freak").

And so, when one of her friends decides to hook her up on a date, she can't exactly refuse, so she goes along with it to shut her up, without letting Eddie know, of course. And during a game of dnd, Dustin let's it slip where you are for the night, unknowingly sending Eddie into a spiral, thinking she's cheating and that's why she wants to keep them a secret and after having an internal battle, he cuts the campaign short, surprising everyone, and he crashes her date, with hellfire in toe, demanding answers. And then everyone finds out and she explains blah blah and they live happily ever after. Sorry, this was long xx

This was so fun! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Dustin's friend

When Dustin said he found a new friend, that was yet again years older than him, Y/N wasn't too pleased. First, it was Steve, and now a guy named Eddie. But when Y/N met Eddie for the first time, she couldn't care less about the age gap between him and her brother, all that mattered was that he was around her age and single.

Eddie still wasn't sure how he managed to get Dustin's hot popular sister to go out with him. Whatever he did, he thanked god for it because having Y/N on his lap with her tongue down his throat was his heaven.

"Missed you so much," Y/N whined, her hips moving against Eddie's as she yanked off his shirt.

"Fuck, I missed you too." Eddie moaned as Y/N sucked down his chest. She left her marks to travel south until she was just above his boxers.

"MOM WANTS YOU," Dustin screamed as he pounded on Y/N's locked door.

"Damn it," Eddie sighed and hung his head.

"BE RIGHT THERE," Y/N screamed back, she sighed and stood up. She handed Eddie his shirt with a sad smile. "Sorry, Eds."

"Fuckers are giving me blue balls. Are you sure we can't tell him? Maybe he'd stop interrupting as much." Eddie glared towards the door. He stood up and threw on his jeans.

"You know I'm not ready for all of that yet." Y/N sighed.

"Fine, I'll go home and finish the old-fashioned way." Eddie joked, smirking as he walked backward to her window, his eyes on her.

"Maybe I'll come over and join you, later." She winked. She kissed Eddie goodbye and waited for him to leave. Then she went to see what her mom wanted.

~~~

Y/N knew hiding her relationship with Eddie was hard and tiring. And she felt guilty every time she had to act like Eddie wasn't everything to her. But she was scared. She was scared to take away Dustin's friend, worried she overstepped. She was terrified it would ruin their friendship because of the bro code. And selfishly, she was scared of the damage it would do to her social life.

"I'm telling you, he has been begging me for a date with you. You are single and have no reason to say no." Chrissy whined.

"My reason to say no is that I don't want to," Y/N said, rolling her eyes as she slammed her locker shut.

She whined when Chrissy followed.

"Like you have anything going on tomorrow night, anyway?" Chrissy argued, her eyes taunting.

Y/N technically had nothing going on tomorrow, Dustin and Eddie had hellfire so both boys were busy.

"Stop thinking of an excuse and just go. Then if you hate it, I will never set you up again." Chrissy promised.

"Deal," Now Y/N could get Chrissy off her back.

~~~

"We are kicking ass today! I wish Y/N were here to see it." Dustin cheered. Y/N had spent more time watching Hellfire since she had to pick Dustin up anyway.

"Why isn't she?" Eddie asked, he prayed it sounded casual. He read ahead on his notes to look like he didn't care too much.

"On a date." Dustin shrugged, playing his next move. No one had the table had any idea that sentence sent Eddie into a panic. Sweat on his forehead as his leg shook beneath the table.

His girlfriend was on a date, with another guy.

It all made sense, she wanted him to be a secret because she was seeing someone. Dustin knew about the guy, and he couldn't know about Eddie. Because then her secret would be exposed. Like it just was.

"Where?" Eddie snapped, his angry tone had the table looking at him in seconds.

"Enzo's," Dustin said confused.

"Get in the van," Eddie snapped as he grabbed his keys.

~

The rest of hellfire sat confused as Eddie raced to the restaurant. He was silent but gripped the wheel until his knuckles were white. The boys followed as Eddie stormed out of the van and into the restaurant.

Eddie felt a wave of heartache flood in his chest when he saw her with him with his own eyes. She looked beautiful as she talked about something he couldn't hear.

"Why are we here? Why do you care about my sister?" Dustin asked, but Eddie already was moving.

His heavy boots hit the floor hard, and his hand slammed on the table. The couple jumped and fear showed in Y/N's eyes when Eddie leaned down to her level.

Face to face, Eddie's hard breathing smacked Y/N's face. She twiddled her thumbs nervously as she saw hellfire behind him. Her brother watching with confusion.

"Eddie, what are you doing?" She said through clenched teeth, trying to keep the conversation between them.

"Demanding why the fuck my girlfriend is on a date with another guy." Eddie snapped, his eyes dark as he glared at her. She knew he had every right to be mad, but she didn't want a scene.

She stood up, and Eddie straightened up. His eyes haven't left her, not even glancing at the stranger across from her.

"Can I please explain later? In private." She whispered, her eyes looking over Eddie's shoulder as the boys watched.

"No, I'm tired of this private shit. Explain right here, right now. Or we are done." Eddie threatened. He didn't want to break up, he wished on every star above him there was a way to make this relationship work.

"Eddie please." She whispered, her watery eyes pleading for him to back off until they could talk. "Not right now in front of everyone." Eddie tried to ignore her tears, not letting himself get sucked into her guilt trap.

"Fine, forget it. I'll see you around, Henderson." Eddie said coldly as he nodded and backed off. Y/N felt frozen in her spot as Eddie went out the door.

"Y/N?" Dustin spoke up, his hand reaching towards her.

In seconds she was running out the door.

"What is going on?" the random date asked.

"Shh man," Mike said, sliding into the booth next to him. He pointed out the window, a clear view of the couple. The boys followed, all sitting in the big booth as they stared out the window.

~

"I'm sorry! I got scared but please." Y/N cried as she tugged on Eddie's arm.

"Scared because you got caught. I can't believe you could do this to me. What about all that love bullshit? This is what you do when you love someone?" Eddie argued, hot tears in his eyes.

"I do love you! Nothing between us is bullshit. Chrissy was on my back for weeks about going on a date with this guy! I never agreed until she said If I went on it, she'd never do it again! I promise you I was just trying to get her off my back. I was going to tell her I hated it and finally have peace of just being with you."

"You know what else brings peace? Finally admitting to other people that you are in love with me," Eddie said sadly, "I'm tired of being your secret. I can't keep doing it."

Y/N sobbed as she reached forward and held his face in her hands.

"I'm so sorry. I love you so much. I'll tell Dustin and everyone. Please just give me a chance to make this up to you." Y/N begged, Eddie sniffled as he looked into her eyes.

"I love you too," he smiled, and Y/N felt relief in her bones. "You took a chance on me, so I'll take the chance on you."

Y/N smiled and leaned forward, Eddie met her halfway and smashed his lips on hers. His hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer.

~

"Oh my god!" The boys all said at once, the random date was long gone.

"Eddie and my sister?"

"Dude! Eddie is banging your sister!" Mike teased

"Is he touching her ass?" Lucas gasped as he moved closer to the window

"Oh, that is so much tongue." Gareth chuckled.

"Our boy is making out with a popular girl!" Jeff cheered, high fives all around the table, except for Dustin who sat in a state of shock.

~

"YOU ARE SCREWING MY SISTER?"

Eddie and Y/N jumped as Dustin screamed.

"DUSTIN!" Y/N screamed as Dustin ran straight into Eddie and took him to the ground.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger