#around an hour late for me but just on time for someone else probably! peace and love on planet quixote for ever. oyasumi !

[swingstep]

isnt that novel?

[mmywanda]

Pretty When You Sleep — W.M

——

Pairing: Dark!WandaMaximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Nights are lot more dangerous than you think.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, somnophilia, drugging, blood, murder, stalking, mentions of a knives, strap-on.

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: This is a dark fic, if you find any of the warnings triggering, please do not read. Happy Halloween! men & minors dni.

Beta read by @poulengp <3

——

It started off small.

All the shoes you left in a mess by the door now neatly stacked up, laces undone, just so they were easier to slip on. The lamp you'd accidently leave on before falling asleep, being off when you woke up in the morning. Clothes that were dumped on the floor, suddenly folded up in your drawer.

Then it got weirder.

Your purse being filled with fifty dollar bills on the mornings you worried you wouldn't have enough to afford your groceries. Some of your clothes, specifically underwear, going missing. Your phone being in the other room when you woke up. Waking up with different pyjama bottoms on.

As it got worse, you found yourself confiding in your friend. Well, a little more than a friend, but the two of you had never labelled it. The two of you sat in the corner of a local cafe, coffee warming up your hands. It was a cool autumn day, causing you to wrap up in a scarf and fluffy coat. This crimson coloured scarf had suddenly appeared in your closet, right when you needed it. It should have been wrong to wear something that had inexplicably appeared in your home, but it was cold, and what else were you to do?

"It's just getting weird. Even the leftovers in my fridge that were about to be mouldy are being thrown away. I see it in my garbage bag. And you know me, I don't even throw it out until it's literally gone blue."

Erin laughed, "You're quite careless. And disgusting." Yes, you were, but that wasn't the point!

"Shush. I'm actually worried here. I'm starting to think.. no.. no one can be breaking into my apartment every night, I'd wake up and hear them. God, I think I'm going mad." You mumbled, hand gripping tightly around the coffee mug. It reminded you of the time you'd left a cold cup of tea on the side, and had fallen asleep. When you woke up an hour later, the cup was hot, as if it had just been warmed up again.

"You've added another lock to your door, you don't even have a spare key for it. It's impossible for someone to break in. And you live on the top floor. Honey, you've been exhausted recently, it's not uncommon for people to get forgetful. You probably did those things while sleepy." Erin reassured you, placing a hand over yours.

You sighed deeply, downing the last drops of drink you had left, Erin doing the same. "Yeah, you're probably right. It's just.. strange."

—

As you entered your apartment late at night, instead of throwing your keys carelessly on a table, you decided to tuck them in the nightstand by your bed. Just to be safe, even if it was just for your own peace of mind. You jumped into the shower, cracking open the window so the steam could be let out. You lived on the top floor of your block, no one could look in, which was always a good thing because your bathroom got very steamy, recently the ceiling paper even curling at the side from the condensation. Making a mental note to look up the prices for someone to redecorate.

You really needed a shower today, you and Erin had gotten a little.. excited earlier, and it always made you cringe not showering before bed after an evening of sex. Under the warm water, you hummed a song you'd had stuck in your head all day. It was a song you didn't even recognise, in fact you weren't even sure you'd heard it before. All you knew was that it was in a different language, and it was comforting.

Once clean, you felt overwhelmingly tired, it had been a long day, so you decided to go straight to bed after having your usual cup of camomile tea, with two spoons of sugar. Then you got into bed. Before you could doze off though, you decided to read for a bit, opening up your latest novel of your favourite author. It can't have been too exciting though, because you fell asleep before the first chapter was over.

When dawn broke, the early sun breaking through cracks in your window, you stirred, blinking a few times. Something felt strange, like every morning for the past few months. You felt a stickiness between your thighs, and your pyjama bottoms were definitely not the ones you fell asleep in. You stared down at the light blue shorts, eyebrows furrowed. Were you a sleepwalker? No, your past roommates would have told you. Maybe you'd had a really good dream and just forgotten it? Fuck, this was weird.

Deciding there was nothing you could really do about the situation, you got up, opting to take another shower to get rid of the icky feeling.

It was when you were munching on your chocolate flavoured cereal that you heard your phone ping. Automatically, you put your spoon down, picking up the device you so heavily relied upon. It was a text from an unknown number, causing you to frown. Opening it, you saw there was a picture attached to the text. And when you examined it, your blood ran cold.

It was a picture of you, naked in bed. Your body spread out, intimate area completely exposed.

"What the fuck?" You whispered, reading what had come with it.

Unknown number: Three orgasms in one night, that's your record so far.

You didn't know what to think— someone had.. touched you while you were asleep? They broke in and did this to you? You shivered in fear, your shaky hands typing out a response before you could even think about what the police would say if you went to them; to not engage with a dangerous person.

You: Who the fuck is this?

There was no reply. Not when you left for work, not when you arrived home in the evening.

You were rigid with fear. A sensible person would have called the police, or at least called someone like Erin, asked to stay over, but you just couldn't. Every time you were about to dial a number, something inside you made you stop. You couldn't explain it.

So here you were, sat bolt upright on your couch. It was around eleven, and your eyes were growing heavy. Your camomile tea mug now empty, you blinked a few times, just aching to lay down and rest. No, you had to stay up! You had to see who had been breaking into your home. But.. you were so tired, a sudden wave of exhaustion washing over you. Your eyes closed slowly, slumping down and falling into a deep sleep.

—

The next morning the first thing you did was check your phone, seeing if the stranger had replied, and they had. Two images attached to a message. And what you saw horrified you. The first picture, one of you in bed, with a.. strap-on, buried inside you. It made you feel sick, that someone had done this to you unwillingly. Though the expression on your face, clearly asleep but pleasure in your features. You could even see your own arousal dripping down the toy.

The second image quite literally made you throw up, You ran to the bathroom, heaving into the toilet bowl as the picture burned in your mind. It had been someone laying on a floor, covered in blood, a knife wedged in their chest.

You had to go to the police. There was no choice now. For some reason, you looked back at the picture, and your mouth dropped open. That someone was a familiar.

It was Erin.

You just knew, it was her jacket, her brown eyes wide open in fear, her blue dyed hair drenched in her own blood. It caused you to throw up again.

—

"I—I think my best friend has been murdered."

You whispered in a shaky voice to a police officer who had sat you down in a cold grey room. After seeing what you'd been sent, not even reading the message that had come with it, you rushed down to the local police station, practically screaming for someone to talk to.

"Why do you suspect this?" He asked in a gruff voice. He didn't seem to be all that serious about the situation, upsetting you even further.

"I've got pictures! And texts!" Your fingers fumbled around your pocket to retrieve your phone, opening your messages app.

It wasn't there.

"So?" The officer prompted, clearly unimpressed.

"It was.. it was right here.." You mumbled, opening every contact you had in case it had magically gotten messed up.

But no, the messages had vanished.

"Look, lady, I think you should go home and get some rest. You look tired. Our minds make things up when we're lacking sleep."

"But—"

"Listen, if something happens, come back in. But for now, you're making empty claims."

Hanging your head down dejectedly, you fought back tears. You knew Erin was dead. You just knew it.

—

Tonight you weren't going to fall asleep. Just to make sure, you downed two mugs of strong coffee instead of your tea. You hated it, but you couldn't risk falling asleep. The intruder— the murderer, was going to break in, you were sure.

The time ticked on. Eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock, one o'clock..

Until your phone buzzed. Dread washed over you. There was no one else who would be making your phone light up at this time of night.

Unknown number: How am I meant to enjoy you when you don't have your tea? You look so pretty when you sleep.

This confused you. Why would they be concerned about what beverage you were drinking? You typed out a response quickly.

You: I'm not scared of you.

It was a stupid thing to say, you knew that really. But the only thing you could think of was to pretend you weren't scared. Maybe that would make them bored and leave you alone. All you could think about what Erin's lifeless body. The blood, god.. all that blood..

Unknown number: See you soon, sweetheart.

Your eyes widened in horror; what the fuck did that mean? This person was on their way? Sickness rose up in your throat, and you ran to your kitchen, grabbing the first sharp object you could find— a medium sized kitchen knife. You clutched it to your chest, running to your bedroom, locking the door and panting heavily. You considered pushing some furniture against the door, but you knew you needed to call the police. Then you realised you'd left your phone in the kitchen.

Fuck! Fuck!

You had put yourself in the worst position possible. But before you could panic over that, you felt a gust of cold air. You frowned, turning around to see the window wide open. You definitely hadn't left it like that before, but it was also impossible for anyone else to have opened it. You lived on the top floor for Christ's sake!

Not knowing what to do first; close the window, get your phone, block the door, or just curl up in a ball and hope it would all just go away. You opted for grabbing your phone. If you could call the police, they'd be on their way, hopefully before your stalker could arrive.

Cautiously unlocking the bedroom door, you stepped out into the hallway. The lights that had previously been on, were off, leaving the whole apartment pitch black apart from the moon shining through the windows and the bedroom light.

Your steps were slow, ears straining to hear anything, but there was silence. The only sound heard was the hammering of your heart in your chest.

Until the silence was broken.

"Seeing you awake is strange. But exciting nonetheless."

The voice came from right behind you. Spinning around in horror, you finally came face to face with the person who had been tormenting you.

"Tormenting? That's a bit harsh, sweetheart."

The woman was dressed in all black, a hood covering most of her face. Light from the bedroom accentuated her figure, but more importantly, the silhouette of a knife and a cloth in her hands.

"W—who are you?" It was an attempt at a shout, maybe to attract the attention of the apartment below you, but your voice could barely manage a squeak.

"I've told you before, baby. You're a forgetful thing when you're asleep, mhm?" She stepped forward, causing you to take a step back.

"You've been taking advantage of me! You've been breaking into my home! You killed.. Erin!" You whispered, backing up against the wall. You had no where to go. You were most likely to die, just like Erin.

"Sweet girl, I'm not going to kill you. I could never hurt you." The woman's voice was almost softer as she approached you, only two feet away now. Was she reading your mind?

"But you killed my friend." The images of Erin's body filled your mind, and how you were going to end up just like her.

"Your 'friend'? Please, she was begging for her own life, not for you to be safe." She let out a cold laugh. "It was so satisfying, the sound of my blade tearing through her flesh and tissue." It almost sounded like she'd gotten pleasure from it

Finally, you got some sense and energy into you as she expressed her fucked up feelings. You let out a shattering scream, "HELP! HELP!"

The woman sighed in disappointment. It took her less than a second to raise the cloth up to your face, covering your nose and mouth. The smell of chemicals was overwhelming. You fought against it, until you couldn't anymore. Body falling limp to the ground.

—

The noise that woke you up was the sound of a squeaking. Your eyes wouldn't open, wondering what was going on. You then felt something inside you, a pressure building up in your lower stomach. What—

Finally, your vision became clearer. You blinked a few times, looking around you. The scene became pretty clear.

The woman was in between your legs, a strap-on buried inside you, just like that photo. The squeaking was the bed as she thrusted into you.

You should have screamed, but the pressure in your abdomen was too intense. You let out a whine, trying to move your tired body, but it was useless. You didn't even want to stop it, it felt too.. good.

"You're awake." She stated, a slight pant in her voice. Her hood was down now, revealing her auburn wavy hair, pale skin and deep green eyes.

"Let me.." You trailed off, because you didn't know whether to say 'go' or 'come'.

She let out a chuckle, holding your hips firmly as she thrusted into you. The feeling was delicious. Something about the fact your body was sleepy, heavy, while being fucked by a woman so dangerous..

No! Why are you thinking like this? It almost felt like your thoughts weren't yours anymore. Were you going insane?

The woman grunted, wet noises filling the room, making it very apparent that your body did not hate this at all. "You can come for me, it'll be your third."

Your third? You couldn't even bring yourself to ask about it, your body just trembled, a pending orgasm taking over, making you whimper in delight.

"Fuck!"

Tears filled your eyes from the sheer pleasure, and the fact that you should have hated this. You were filled with so much shame and guilt. This was the person who had killed your best friend, who'd stripped you of your dignity.

"Shh, darling, you don't have to feel guilty. You're allowed to feel pleasure. And your friend, well, she was just in the way."

Her twisted words made you feel sick again, but you didn't have time to dwell on that because the woman's hand suddenly reached down and started to circle your clit while simultaneously thrusting into you. A loud groan escaped your throat, eyes practically rolling to the back of your head.

"You're going to beat your record, four times will be an achievement." Her accented voice was hot and heavy, turning you on even more.

"I— mhm!" You tried to speak, but you didn't know what to say.

"Let go, detka, show me how good I make you feel." She gripped your waist with her spare hand, red manicured nails digging into your skin.

Without warning, you came hard, spilling all over the strap. The woman moaned, slowing down her thrusts and eventually pulling out, leaving you unbearably empty. She slipped the strap off and went to straddle you, leaning her head down to kiss your neck. You felt utter bliss, forgetting how incredibly fucked up and sick this was.

"Seeing as this is the first time we've met while you've been conscious, I'll introduce myself. I'm Wanda." She giggled, as if nothing had just happened, and had been happening for months. Your head spun, recognising that name somehow, as if it had been spoken in your dreams.

"Relax now, sweet thing. I'll be here when you wake up." Wanda said softly, lying beside you, wrapping the duvet around your naked body. Her arm laid loosely across your stomach, hearing her breathing slow down to something calmer than before.

You didn't say anything, too busy feeling a wave of satisfaction, as awful as that sounded. It was like your mind was used to this, and that it was something you'd always wanted.

The last thing you remembered was a soft lullaby, in a language you didn't recognise. You'd heard it before, in your dreams. And it brought you great comfort.

——

Tags: @rezwrites @hatdog96 @ion-news @esposadejoyhuerta @moimmmm @grimlygoblin @lizziesflower @yandereloverb312 @beggingonmykneesforher

——

[auroreliis]

OMGGG!! Imagine platonic yandere batfam and reader on a vacation at the beach on a privat Island. Would you like to do headcanons/or a scenario (you can decide) of it. Hope you have a good day/night!!

Aaaaa anon <333 We had the same idea <3333 Thank you so much!!!

Perhaps a little late for summer, but inspiration only struck me now!!! <33

Also, I wrote this on like 4 energy drinks so forgive any spelling errors

Also it's not edited or anything...

If reception is positive on this one, I might make a part 2 with the other characters, so let me know if you'd be interested in that :)

Platonic Yandere!Batfamily

Summary: The Batfamily takes you to their private island for summer vacation.

It was just you. Just you and the gently lapping of the waves against the shore. Finally, some alone time. You had to make the most of it, since you were convinced that it wouldn’t last long.

It was about 8 o’clock in the morning. Bruce, Damian and Stephanie had left the island for whatever reason. Dick was either at home or at main beach, looking for you. You had come here about half an hour ago, surely they would’ve noticed your absence and the fact that you had left your phone at home. They were going to chip you eventually, you had come to accept that. However, you certainly enjoyed the time you had away from them whenever they couldn’t find you.

Jason was probably inside the villa. He wasn’t particularly fond of the heat outside. Either that or he’d gone swimming to cool off. Cassandra could’ve been looking for you. Maybe she had already found you.

Instinctively, you looked around. No one was in sight. Then again, she probably wouldn’t let herself be seen anyway.

The shore surrounding the island was wider at the main beach. Here, it was only a few feet wide. Behind you laid a sparse palm forest. Cassandra could certainly hide there. Whatever. You wouldn’t find her anyway. Besides, she would have probably come to talk to you. Probably.

Where would Duke and Tim be? At the villa, right? Where else would they be? Hopefully not looking for you.

Now that you had considered it, you were probably being observed by someone. And if you weren’t, then soon, you would be.

Whatever, just take your mind off it. Think of something else, like…the beautiful beach you’re at. Yes, it is much nicer to think about the gentle breeze. How wonderful. Just you, the beach and the ocean.

You hadn’t ever been at a private beach, so this was a unique experience. All of this belonged to you. Well it actually belonged to your new family, but still, it almost belonged to you.

Your soul nearly left your body at the sound of rustling coming from behind you.

“Hi”, Tim waved nervously after you had spotted him sneaking up on you.

You didn’t feel like answering, so you just turned back to the ocean. Wanting to engage with you somehow, Tim sat down on the sand next to you.

“So…what are you doing here?”, he kept looking at you, but you tried very hard to ignore his gaze.

“Just sitting.”

“Well, I can tell that, but why here? Why not on the main beach? Dick and Jason are scrambling to find you there.”

You had thought that was the case.

“I wanted to be alone.”, you emphasized every word.

He chuckles nervously. That was it. He didn’t say anything. That told you everything you needed to know: He was only here to annoy you.

“How did you even find me?”, you turned to him, your voice tinged with frustration.

“Find you? Oh, I wasn’t looking for you, I just wanted to go somewhere alone. You know, somewhere peaceful”, he turned to the ocean, as though in deep thought,”I get it, you know. You also want to be alone sometimes.”

If he “gets it”, then why is he always right behind you?

“I think you and I have a lot more in common than you think”, he said, crossing his arms on his propped up knees and turning to you.

The audacity to say something like that made you shudder.

“I think you’re full of shit”, you wouldn’t let him think that he’s getting closer to you. You could never like someone like him.

He tried to hide his frown, but you saw right through him,”That’s pretty mean, you know. I’m just trying to connect with you.”

He didn’t say it directly, but you knew his words were a warning. Bruce had talked to you about this. You were allowed to have your opinions about them, but being overly rude was a violation of the rules—rules, which he made up. In other words, if Tim thought you were being mean, then you were being mean. Against this, there would be no arguing.

Well, you know what they say: If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

“Ahem, I’m trying to connect with you…”, Tim persisted. You merely pursed your lips and nodded.

Noticing the awkward silence, he spoke again, ”So, will you go swimming?”

You shook your head.

He nodded, “Yes, it isn’t that hot yet, so there’s no need to cool off, I suppose.”

“Well”, he turned to you with a smile, his determination unwavering, “What would you like for breakfast? Alfred already started preparing something. Let’s head back and let him know what you want before he finishes.” But wouldn’t Alfred already know your preference? Perhaps this was Tim’s idea of “bonding”…

Still, his offer seemed tempting, since you hadn’t eaten yet. However, you weren’t jumping at the idea of going back only to place your order with Alfred and then get dragged off to go swimming by either Jason or Dick. Or worse, Tim.

Only now that you felt the hopelessness more intensely, did you begin to question things. Why did Tim always find you first. And how? They didn’t secretly chip you, did they?

…Did they?

Asking them wouldn’t result in an honest answer, so you didn’t really see a point in it. But how else would you figure it out?

You supposed the best person to ask was Bruce—AKA. Dad. He was likely the only person who would answer truthfully���as long as you behaved properly, that is.

“Is dad home yet?”, you turned to Tim, ignoring his previous rambling.

“Oh uh, I’m not sure. Shall we go check together?”, Tim scrambled to use every opportunity he was given, despite being caught off guard.

Perhaps it won’t get any better than this: Mediocre at best.

“Fine, let’s go.”

From the corner of your eye, after Tim grabbed your hand, you saw his smile widen remarkably.

The walk was long and awkward. Your older brother was desperately trying to talk about something, anything, that would catch your interest. Meanwhile, you were silent for the most part.

You had to admit, the villa was quite nice (if only it came without the addition of desperate, touch starved reprobates). Despite having your own room, you were forced to share a room—and often even a bed—with someone, unless you gained Bruce’s special favour for the day.

Luckily, Damian, the person you had to share the room with last night, had left very early in the morning. You weren’t sure how long ago, though, since the letter he’d written to inform you of his absence was…detailed, to say the least. Surely it would’ve taken him more than an hour to even come up with it, let alone write it. What a waster of paper. He didn’t have to say anything at all…

Entering the cool living room made you relax enough to finally engage with Tim, “Um…are Jay and Dick home, or…?”

In respone, he laughed, “Oh, no. I didn’t tell them that you’re with me. They’re probably still looking for you at the main beach. Dick went on about how we shouldn’t let you go anywhere alone in case you drowned or something like that.”

“Wait, what? But I know how to swim! Please tell Bruce that Dick’s rule is unnecessary…I already have enough restrictions, don’t I?” You panicked.

“Well…” He grinned, “That depends on what you’ll do for me in exchange.”

Even sighing was tiring for you at this point, “Fine, I’ll sleep in your room tonight.”

“Until the end of the week, or no deal.”

Holding back a groan, you responded, “Fine, whatever, just…work your magic, okay?” He nodded eagerly.

“Greeting, Masters. Breakfast is almost prepared”, Alfred appeared from the kitchen.

“Hi. Alfred, did you make-”

“Your favourite? Of course I did”, Alfred interrupted.

“…Right.” You should’ve known, to be fair, “Well, when will it be done?”

“When Master Bruce and Master Damian return”

“What about Steph? Isn’t she returning?” If she didn’t return at all, your life would improve considerably.

“Oh, Steph? She wanted to stay in the city for a bit, probably to buy you gifts or something”, Tim responds in Alfred’s stead.

“Gifts…? You don’t think she’ll, you know, make me play dress-up again, right?”, the thought sent a shiver down your spine. In this heat? There was no way you’d wear layers upon layers of clothes just because she was bored. You immediately left the living room, leaving Tim and Alfred behind.

While waiting for everyone to return to eat breakfast, you went and hid somewhere in the villa to avoid social interractions. And hopefully the heat. It was very hot.

[naomihatake]

In search of freedom (Ch. 1)

1. They're bad news

Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2

⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.

Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa. This chapter follows the events of the first episode.

Warnings for this chapter: physical violence (fights), mentions of deaths, fluff, some cursing, mentions of tarot and palm readings

Word count: 3,6k

Theme song: “Loreley” by Blackmore's Night (click on the link)

A/N: This is the first part of a fanfiction I was thinking of since first watching One Piece Live Action. I started the anime too and I'm around episode 64 already. I'm using the OPLA course of action for now and I have no idea for an ending, but enough scenarios to write and share. I don't know how far this will go, but I'll have fun writing it and considering how much I like Zoro (born anime and LA), I'm using both of them as inspiration. Sorry for the lack of interaction between reader and Zoro, but I promise things will change.

The reader will be referred to as "Witch" especially in the next chapter, because I have no intentions of using "Y/N". There will be more information revealed about her past and abilities in the next chapter.

I'm open for comments and opinions <3

"Excuse me," she smiled sweetly while swaying away from someone who was standing right in front of her and a table she had to serve for. "Here," she carefully let the plates down.

She received a large smile coming from the young man with dark curls and a straw hat hanging around his neck. His pink haired companion seemed very shy, barely glancing at her before looking back at his plate, thanking in a small voice.

The tavern buzzed with a peaceful energy in the late hours of morning, the big windows letting the warm rays of sun in, lighting up the place. There were men sitting at a few tables, no sign of any other woman except for her and the very owner of that place, who just finished cooking something — were those cookies? It smelled divine.

Her dress fluttered around her knees as she moved away from their table to take other orders, a strand of her hair falling against her cheek after running around for so long. When she finally stopped in her tracks by the bar, intense eyes searched for anyone else who might've needed something. Lucky for her, she could finally breathe for a few seconds, resting her hips against the bar.

However, her eyes fell on the tall figure who just chugged down his throat a shot of alcohol. His green hair made her frown to herself, looking away before she could get caught ogling some stranger. After a few seconds, she looked at him again, this time at the three swords resting against his hip.

Three swords? What can someone do with three swords?

Everyone probably had the same question whenever they saw him for the first time. However, he felt somehow familiar, as if she's heard of someone like that before. A pirate? No, wait, a pirate hunter? The owner told her of so many things and so many people it was impossible to remember each one of them, but she was pretty sure she mentioned some pirate hunter only a few days ago.

Her thought process was interrupted when a man with blonde hair and suit walked by in front of her. Considering the men dressed in white uniforms who entered with him, they must be marines and he was probably their superior — he was walking like he owned the entire port.

She held back from rolling her eyes in annoyance. Her thoughts ran back to what her friend said about pirates last time, the way they argued back and forth about how pirates aren't good. However, she had her own reasons for claiming that not all pirates were ruthless monsters, without elaborating.

She flinched lightly when she heard the thud of a metal plate falling on the floor, snapping her head towards a little girl who was stuttering apologies to the blonde man. Her eyebrows were pulled together at his angry and loud voice mocking the child who had tears in her eyes, fear seeping through her very bones at the exaggerated reaction.

Apparently, they knocked into each other. Oh, there were two cookies on the floor. One of them got crushed under the man's foot.

She smoothly made her way by the side of the little girl, smiling at her as she crouched down to her level.

"Is everything alright, little one? Did you apologize?" the woman's hand squeezed the girl's shoulder warmly.

Rika's only response was a nod.

"Good job. It's alright, I'll help you clean up. Why don't you bring me a broom, hm?" she coaxed the girl with a gentle voice.

Once the girl walked away, she stood up straight again, arching her eyebrow questionably at the arrogant man by her side.

"Is there anything else I could help you with?"

"What, are you working here? If the answer's positive, then you better teach those stupid kids some manners," he huffed.

"You should teach yourself how to behave," she commented right back, her sharp gaze sizing him up and down.

"Take that back. Next time I won't be so nice," the blonde marine grinned.

Oh, and what an ugly grin it was on that fucker's face.

"You dropped my food," a low voice from behind interrupted.

The young woman turned her head towards the voice, confusion written on her face as she made a few steps back, out of his way. It was the green haired man she noticed earlier, now sitting on one of his knees on the cold floor.

Rika came back with a broom almost twice her size, the object quickly taken from her hold by the woman who smiled at her again. While they exchanged glances, the pirate hunter let himself down on one of his knees, taking some of the crushed cookie into his palm.

A sly smile tugged at the woman's lips. A pirate hunter or not, he had more dignity than a marine even in that kneeling position. She was more satisfied to see the little one smiling.

"Your turn," the green-haired man lowered his voice, a dark glare thrown at the astonished marine.

The pirate hunter raised back up and placed the metal plate on the bat, his intimidating height against the arrogant blonde monkey in front of him telling enough.

"Apologize to the girl," he demanded in a relaxed tone.

"Me? It was her fault for bumping into me. The lady should apologize for disrespecting me."

Apologize, my ass, she thought to herself, one step away from bursting out laughing. What did he take her for?

"Do you want a fight or what?" he drew his sword out, a knowing grin curled on his face. "I don't need three swords to fight."

The woman looked down at the little girl who was still by her side, ruffling her hair.

"Why don't you go to your mother, hm? And stay there until I call you back."

Her stern voice didn't give space for arguing; Rika complied, going to the kitchen.

She heard some muttering and next thing she knew, both of the men in front of her had drawn their swords out. Apparently, the green-haired one decided to advance closer to the marine, in an attempt to keep the fight away from the lady.

Hmph. Swordsmen and their unusual gentlemanly behavior.

Squeezing the broom in between her fingers, she moved away, furrowing her eyebrows in a scowl.

"No fights in here, you jerks!" she scoffed.

Expertly, while the other marines attacked one man — how unethical of them — and swords clashed against each other after sharp whistling noises, the woman swept away the cookies on the floor. She faked doing her own duties, like the good employee that she was, throwing careful glances at the fight happening right next to her. If she wasn't careful enough, she could get sliced in two.

"I advise you to get out of the way," she heard the swordsman's voice growling right after he threw a chair into three men, making them fall to the floor.

"You'll destroy the entire place if I do."

Right after saying those words, without anyone noticing in that damned agitation, with a quick movement of the broom, she made one of the marines trip.

Just like the idiots that they were.

"Oh my god, you should be more careful!" she placed a hand over her lips, fake surprise and fear coloring her features.

Who would believe such an innocent being was capable of such malicious actions?

With a strong creak followed by a thud, one marine was thrown into a table that turned the both of them upside down, groans filled with pain vibrating through the tavern.

She was right about them destroying the place.

However, the commotion didn't cause too much distress to the woman still moving the broom around, acting as if she had business with that newly found weapon. It might not be lethal, but she couldn't be spotted while she was intentionally making the marines' jobs harder. In the month she's been working there, she saw more than just one fight and used everything that she saw fit to stop it — be it a broom or a kitchen knife.

Now that she analyzed the fight better, it seemed like the pirate hunter barely even had to draw his sword out of its scabbard, at some point knocking someone's head into the bar. He used his raw strength and the objects surrounding him, thankfully without destroying any of them. The can he threw into another man's stomach seemed so effortless.

That must've hurt, though.

The blonde marine was quickly pulled by the back of his collar, back colliding with the bar, and an angry swordsman towering over him. She didn't hear anything nor paid attention anymore, eyes focused on the tavern that was ruined only half way through.

She sighed after watching both of the men walking out of there, biting her lower lip to hold back a fit of laughter at the marine who stumbled while being dragged by the bounty hunter.

"Why do men always fight in this tavern?" she talked to herself, raising one of the chairs and putting it back in place. "One day of peace is all I want in this port, only one day, and I can't get even that."

She sighed again, only for that long exhale to get stuck in her throat once her eyes fell on the table that was almost sitting in the opposite way rather than how it should be. Once she approached it, stepping by the marine who was trying to get up.

She would never help someone who had less dignity than a dog following some orders from a brainless monkey. Heck, even those animals were smarter.

Instead, she tried to move the table back in its place. Her fingers were so close to gripping at one side of the table before someone appeared at the opposite side. The young man with a straw hat and a square smile she served only a few minutes ago raised the table by himself, carefully arranging it until he was satisfied with its position.

"Thank you so much for the help," she smiled at him. "Be careful where you step, I think a glass also broke."

There were some shreds on the floor somewhere close to the table the young man sat at earlier.

"Thank you for your concern," he smiled just like the first time.

Gosh, has she ever seen such a beautiful soul? His eyes sparkled and the happiness suited him like it did to a little child who has no clue of the harsh world. However, he didn't seem phased or scared by what happened earlier — his hands weren't shaking at all and there was no fear lingering in his stare.

She turned to take the broom and came closer to his companion, who was sitting under the table. She bent her torso to give him a hand, helping him get back to his feet.

"Careful with the glass, check your hands," she warned again.

"I saw what you did there."

She turned towards the straw hat guy, blinking owlishly at him.

"I don't really get what you mean."

She started sweeping the shred of broken glass, not paying attention to the curious and insistent gaze she was receiving.

"You surely do. I'm Monkey D. Luffy and I'm gonna be King of the Pirates!"

Her eyes widened at the second part of his speech, snapping her head back at him. Without even realizing, her fingers were squeezing the broom quite harshly, fingertips going white.

"That's—" she started in a small voice, blinking like an idiot and staring at him.

She's heard that before. She's heard the same dream before and it brought so much suffering.

"That's dangerous," she finally got the courage to continue, still hesitant.

"You're brave for interfering with their fight."

Luffy looked into her eyes as if he could guess the thoughts running through her head, as if he could read her very soul, drinking in her features and reaction.

"You must've seen wrong," she let out a light chuckle, getting a grip on herself. "I'm just clumsy sometimes."

She was thankful she stopped herself from cussing out the Marines, because in less than a second after she finished her sentence, a few other men dressed in white uniforms appeared to help their comrades back to the base. She casted a skeptical eye at each one of them, like silent warnings.

They were pathetic, some of them still stumbling while trying to get up, their swords thrown around carelessly. After they all disappeared from her sight, her shoulders obviously relaxed again.

"I have to admit I hated each second of staying so much with these idiots around," she huffed quietly. "That spoiled child who takes advantage of his father's status was getting on my nerves."

"That's why you helped that swordsman, right?"

Luffy continued with his supposition, not letting go of what he thought he saw — it was the truth, but it would be dangerous to admit.

"I didn't help anyone, really. That was unintentional."

"Don't press it too much, Luffy," his companion's voice trembled.

"Koby, I know what I saw," Luffy pulled his lips into a straight line.

She resumed what she was doing, sweeping at the pieces of glass, seeing almost each one of them in the light seeping through the window.

"If you want to become King of the Pirates, I suppose you also want to get the One Piece, right?"

She was foolish. She was stupid for asking, for getting herself in such business that somehow always ended with too many deaths, with broken dreams. However, something was nagging in her gut. Deep down, it felt so right to ask.

"Yes! I need the Grand Line map for that and I intend on getting from the Marine Base here."

"You're insane, kid," her shoulders shook with her light laughter.

It was a sour sound.

She stopped, leaning her weight into the broom, looking down at the glass in front of her. She shouldn't help them. She should stay in her place if she wanted those young men to survive. What they were trying to do was basically suicide, they just didn't know. Koby seemed to be more fearful, hesitant and so, so shy. Luffy didn't say "us"; he said "I" — the pink-haired guy was not really part of the plan.

Against better judgment, she raised her head at him, promises sparkling in her eyes just like the shreds of glass.

"You can't just ask for that map and I hope you know that. What you want to get yourself into isn't just dangerous, it's like jumping into a suicide mission," her voice strained, pouring all of her hope in her next words: "However, I can help you get inside. Be careful, you have to make sure no one catches you."

"So I was right about you!" Luffy beamed.

"Right about what?"

"That you're brave."

Her lips opened, but no sound came from between them. It was pointless to deny it when he seemed so stubborn about what he saw and believed.

"I think this is a lot to say about someone who's helping you steal secret maps," the side of her mouth curled upwards.

Koby was left astonished. Stealing from the Marines was suicide.

"Listen here, kid," she lowered her voice, stepping closer to whisper. She set her gaze on Luffy's. "You have to get out of there alive, no matter what. Lie if you have to, but I have a feeling you're very bad at that, so be careful. That isn't a place to fool around in. You could get yourself killed in a blink. The Marines are very sneaky."

"There are good Marines and bad Marines," he shrugged. "Maybe I'll meet someone who's willing to help."

"I like your enthusiasm, but that unit base doesn't fit," she shook her head. "Both Captain Morgan and his son aren't the good kind of people."

She squeezed the broom in between her fingers again, an ugly feeling clawing at her throat. She didn't want a kid to die for following his dreams, but freedom was something she always craved.

"I'll tell you a way to get inside the base from underneath. You have to keep your lips sealed — I don't worry about myself, but about the owner and her daughter. I don't want word spreading around."

"You can count on me!" he placed his hand on his heart, as if he sealed the promise there. "Who are you? I want to know who's helping me."

Damned be his sincerity.

"I'll give you my name after you get out of there alive."

She smiled, eyes sparkling with delicious mischief.

"That is a promise. I'll be around the Marine Base and I'll tell you my name after I see you get out of there alive."

That seemed to stir something in Luffy's soul, inhaling with pride. A man of his word, indeed, just like she thought.

"Deal.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

Her name left the lips of a scolding mother, even if it wasn't her mom.

"I saw you." The second time she heard tthat same phrase in one day.

Annie patted the tip of her shoe against the floor repeatedly.

"I was just lucky enough not to get myself in trouble," she shrugged.

However, her eyes fell on the floor, guilty about getting caught like a deer in the light.

"You could've gotten yourself in big trouble!" the owner of the tavern raised her voice.

Rika pouted up at her mother, trying to sweeten her reaction.

"She just wanted to help, just like—"

"Rika," this time, the scolded one firmly spoke her name. "Don't take me as an idol. It's true that something could have happened."

The little girl shouldn't worry about such a bloody world just yet and she wanted to help it for as long as possible. Being stubborn was a death sentence, even if she would always get herself into trouble if it meant to stick to her principles.

She'd rather die on her feet than live on her knees.

"Just because this time everything was fine, it doesn't mean next time will be the same," Annie exhaled loudly, frowning.

"There won't be a next time," the young woman sank her chin in her chest. "I should leave these days. Soon enough, word will spread out about my tarot and palm readings. I don't want to cause you any more trouble."

"You little witch," the usual scolding was replaced with a warm nickname.

She raised her head again, struggling to smile. Leaving after she got attached always hurt.

"That man was Roronoa Zoro, wasn't it?" Annie asked, her body suddenly tensing.

"Most probably," she shrugged. "Three swords, three earrings. He put on quite a show, to be honest," the words were followed by a chuckle.

"I see the way your eyes are sparkling. Don't even think about getting into some conversation with such a troublesome person."

"What could do some adventure to a poor soul like me?" she teased.

"It could bring you six feet under."

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

"I'm no witch, you idiots!" she struggled against the harsh grip the two men had on her arms.

She hissed when one of them sank his fingertips in her upper arms, glaring at him.

Shithead marines.

She continued writhing and struggling, stomping her feet into the ground in an awful attempt to stop them. She intended on keeping her promise after she helped the straw hat sneak into their base. She waited for as long as it was necessary after she gathered her things in a bag that hung around her shoulders. She was supposed to leave that place after she made sure the kid was alright and alive.

"God dammit!" she shouted. "How many times do I have to explain I'm not doing anything wrong?!"

"You're lying to people and receiving money, filthy witch. You're a thief," one of the men commented as they continued walking her away from the port.

"I didn't steal shit!" she snapped.

"Watch out!" she heard a familiar voice.

Instantly, she bent her torso down. The man on her right was punched in the face with so much force he released her grip on her and stumbled into the marine on her left, both of them now on the ground.

She didn't even get enough time to process what was happening, something curling around her waist carefully, but so fast. A yelp left her lips when she realized she was being lifted off the ground, turning her head towards the source.

It was the straw hat's arm. He ate a devil fruit, didn't he?

He was on a boat that was sailing a few meters away in the sea and she was being pulled towards him. She also recognized the pirate hunter from earlier and a woman with orange hair, both of them far too relaxed for what was happening.

That guy was made of rubber!

She recognized Koby who just got to his feet after she got past him, her feet finally touching something solid again. She blinked confused at the straw hat.

"You can't bring everyone that you like on this ship," the swordsman let out a hopeless sigh.

She busted out laughing like a maniac, the colorful and rich sound filling the air. Her shoulders shook and she had to place her hand over her stomach, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. Obviously, her reaction was met with an especially questionable look coming from the swordsman, who most probably thought he got on a ship with another insane human.

"You're insane, kid," she wiped the tears in her eyes with her fingers, still smiling widely.

She hasn't felt such relief in years.

"I guess I gotta fulfill a promise, right?"

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

[solbaby7]

Make You Feel My Love

pairing: azriel x reader

[ part 2 to Make You Feel Something ]

warnings: sexual tension, possible sexual descriptions, not intended for readers under 18, swearing, best friends who fuck, possible typos

summary: Late nights and dim lights with a Shadowsinger who bares it all when it comes to you.

[part 1 ]

—

Practice makes perfect.

At least that’s what you told yourself every time the sun would set and Azriel came strolling through the doors of your bedchamber. He’s grown rather confident as a muse, such perfect features translating on dozens of pages in your sketchbook and countless canvases with him draped over the throne or laid out in a field of flowers. Two of them were a set, a close enough depiction of the shadowsinger in a spring, water up to his chest and inky hair dripping over his forehead—he looked peaceful, like the world hadn’t yet taken a piece of his soul. Most were divided between the two of you; stolen slices of sunshine and bargained bits of darkness hung proudly on his walls, even the nude one had its own home in his closet. “Where do you want me?”

“On the bed.”

He raises a brow, a smirk growing in the corner of full lips but he obeys. “Skipping right to the fun parts, are we?”

“Not this time,” You state firmly, arms crossing at your chest and putting your foot down. “I have three sketchbooks filled with half-finished pieces because you and that silver tongue of yours.”

“You’ve never complained about it before.” Azriel plops onto your bed face down, arms curling under the same pillow he was burying his face in. “Why don’t we do this in your room more often? I’m sure sitting for hours will be much more bearable with the smell of you surrounding me.”

“We stopped doing that because you kept falling asleep.” You’re not even facing him, bare feet smacking against the hardwood floors as you dragged over a chair and the small side table beside it. The soft blue book you pull out is far more intricate than any of the others he’d seen you use before, a special set of charcoals were pullout and sharpened. Stained fingers smear at the page, giving a rough base to sketch upon and Azriel finds he falls in love with the messy ponytail you pull your hair into each time before you’d started.

Azriel made a little noise, humming into the comfort of your sheets after shrugging off his shorts; no underwear this time. Just endless miles of hard muscles and giant wings that settled into the soft fabric of your duvet. “Even better, I’m quite handsome when I sleep.”

“You snore.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Is it? Shall I ask Rhys to join us? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind poking around in my head to help confirm.”

It was a harmless taunt; one he probably still wouldn’t have laughed at even when you were just friends. But now—this. The late nights and early mornings laughing about nothing, fingers smeared in whatever medium you’d chosen to use that time. Sometimes it would lead to more; feverish mouths molding against one another, your fingers tracing at bare skin while Az’s greedy hands tug off your clothes. Soft promises branded at your flesh each time your bodies connected, shadows in a frenzy, touching the places his hands couldn’t get to but he swallows every moan, every blissed out whimper until he was full off you and the air you breathed.

Other times were softer, two friends bonding over something they didn’t have to share with others. A reprieve from expectations; a place where Azriel bared his body and allowed another to find a beauty in him he had yet to see. “You wouldn’t dare—you’d get too jealous having someone else looking at me the way you do.”

“Maybe, I’ll just think of a different memory; of me before a mirror with my hands between my thighs.”

It’s too easy to push the right buttons; amber irises peering at you over the plush pillow beneath him, wide shoulders tense and body half covered by the sheets. “That’s not funny.”

You’re already sketching the outlines of the bed frame, the mattress and the crinkled pillows. Rough outlines of a figure beginning to form before your very eyes as you continued, fresh linen sheets, a thick duvet that smelled of you bunched low at Azriel’s waist. “I wasn’t laughing.” He shifts in bed, hair messy and gaze darkening when taking you in; giving you time to change your words. “You moved.”

“Take it back.”

“Why?” You poke harder, amused grin plastered on your face. “You jealous?”

To your surprise, Azriel nods; just once but it’s enough to have your stomach doing flips. “I don’t like the thought of someone else seeing you like that—someone that’s not me.”

The movement doesn’t alter the direction of the sketch too much and the way he rests on his side, upper body propped up by one strong arm while the other rested over his stomach and he’s not as awkward with his hands anymore—allowing them to just be. You don’t dare look in his eyes, fearful of the secrets he’d lure out of you and you linger around areas that have already been completed. The strong lines of his waist, the dark trail of hair, the muscles of his abdomen that seems to flex slightly when your stare lasts a beat too long. “That your way of telling me not to be seeing other people?”

“Have you been seeing other people?”

You try to ignore the fire that burns in your belly at the jealously he openly displays and your hand pulls away from the paper, a brow raised in question. “Have you?”

It’s difficult to maintain eye contact under the intensity of such a rich gold and you’re fairly certain he can hear the way your heart thuds in your chest. This was the closest either of you had gotten to verifying what it was you were doing and suddenly the warmth from the fire is entirely too much. A finger hooks under the neckline of your shirt, tugging gently in a motion that Azriel doesn’t miss, tongue darting out to wet his lip. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

True.

It wasn’t like he had the time to juggle another woman between all of his responsibilities and spending every spare second sneaking off into whatever room was empty for a few minutes of skin on skin, mouth to mouth and tongue sliding over tongue. “Maybe, I want to hear you say it.” It comes out a little shy, head tilting to the side to rest against your hand and shadows twist up your ankle, around your calf and over your knees. They stop at your thighs, the cool sensation almost resembling the pressure of hands when they tease at the hem of your sleep shorts. “Az—“

“You have to hear the words?” The shadowsingers voice goes devastatingly low, unbearably taunting; luring you in and daring you to bite. Play with me. His shadows seem to croon, tracing letters in your skin too gentle for you to decipher but the heated stare greedily feasting on your reactions is a big enough clue. “Can you not feel it in how I touch you? How I handle you?” The cool pressure creeps past the silk of your shorts, fleeting touches grazing spots that needed more before they dart off to the next. “Is it not clear when I look at you?”

“Azriel—“ It comes out breathless, bones melting to nothing in the cushions of the couch. “The drawing.”

“Who’s stopping you, sweet thing?” The shadows do the work for him, raising the charcoal back in your grasp while the other extends out your sketchbook. “I’ll keep still while you finish.”

A double meaning in the best case.

No doubt, this was his payback for making him spill his load in your hand like some teenager still learning their bodies.

His shadows are relentless, memorizing every curve and branding their touch in their wake. Focusing is near impossible, hands shaky and breathing choppy when forcing yourself to relax; to continue drawing the tortuously beautiful body before you. Az smirks when you pause, throat bobbing with a swallow when you feel the cool caress graze your chest, teasing over peaked nipples. You can feel him following your every move, every drag of pencil to paper; a few of the lines are less than neat but you can’t find it in you to care when Azriel’s attention on you is so addictive. “Can you feel it now?”

“I’ve always felt it, Az.” There’s such vulnerability laced in your tone, eyes trained on your paper; copying the furrow of his brow, the straight line of his nose, the plush of his mouth. “Just need to hear you say it.”

There’s a brief pause; enough time to sign the page and neatly put your utensils away but instead of tearing the page free like usual, you shut the baby blue book and tie it tight. “I want you,” He confesses when you stand, your back is to him and the words come out so quiet you barely hear it. Your body stills and your soft inhale of breath is encouragement enough for him to keep going. “—as more than just friends.”

A slow glance over your shoulder, book still in your grasp and now you’re definitely sure he can hear your heartbeat—everyone in the whole damn city probably could. “Yeah?”

He nods, a smile creeping in the corner of full lips at the way you’re looking at him and Azriel shifts to make room when you move closer, hands and knees sinking into the mattress when you sit yourself on top of him. “I want to kiss you in front of people,” Warm palms dips under your shirt, strong hands gripping at your sides with the most perfect pressure when explores the shape of you. Az lets a pleased sound rumble in his chest at the way you fall into him, allowing him access to a body he’d laid claim to long before he’d ever even touched you. “And have a cheesy picture of your face hanging up behind me in my office.” A blush fans, soft laughter filling the room but inside your screaming; on top of the world with no plan on how to get down. “Just want you. Only you.”

His hands keep trailing higher, pausing at the curve of your breasts and his pupils go wide when you grind down on him, pulling the shirt clean off and throwing it somewhere behind you. “Then have me, I’m yours. Only yours.”

[djarindroid]

Against All Odds

Pairing: Eric (AQPDO) x Reader

Summary: After meeting Eric and slowly growing closer to one another will you be able to get back to each other in this new silent world?

Word Count: 5,876

Warnings: Descriptions of violence, death and blood

Comments: I dunno why but I'm more nervous to post this than I have been about anything else I've written. Hope you enjoy!

The nights spent working at the NYU Law School library were peaceful. Where dimly lit aisles provided a sanctuary to any student burning the midnight oil. Your job was easy enough, re-shelve a few books and help the occasional student find something. Whilst night shifts weren’t ideal it was a sure way for you to save up to achieve your dream; going to art school. Besides, it gave you plenty of time to work on your sketches.

It was nearing 2am when someone burst through the doors, looking up from the returned books you were sorting though you saw a disheveled young man anxiously scanning the room until his eyes landed on you. Rushing over he blurted out, ‘Excuse me, I need a book on constitutional law. I have a paper due and my laptops just crashed on me.’ 

You smiled, hoping to ease his panicked state. ‘You’re gonna need to go up a floor to aisle 23, there should be some constitutional law books on the 2nd and 3rd shelf.’

‘Okay, perfect, aisle 23,’ he repeated as he began to walk away. ‘Thank you so much!’ 

You watched him go, slightly chuckling to yourself as he went to go downstairs instead of up, clearly too distracted to remember everything you said.

‘Hey,’ you softly called out. He halted, and turned to you. ‘Upstairs,’ you pointed up to emphasise where he went wrong.

‘Oh right, yeah of course, you said that. Thanks again,’ he stammered out as he quickly corrected himself, bounding up the stairs two at a time. You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you as you watched him go. Shaking your head you returned to sorting the books.

The next few hours passed uneventfully, a couple of other students came in and out but no one needed anything from you. As the clock ticked closer to dawn you decided to take a walk around the library, to check if any books had been left out.

As you made your way upstairs you wondered if the guy from earlier had found what he needed. Turning the corner at the top of the stairs you spotted him, working diligently in a sea of open books. The desk light bathed him a soft glow as he ran his hand through his already tousled hair. You don’t know what possessed you to go over to him, you only ever spoke to the students if they came up to you at the front desk, but you found yourself drawn over to him.

‘Hey,’ you said quietly, not wanting to break the serenity the library provided, ‘did you find what you were looking for?’

His deep brown eyes met yours with a hint of gratitude as they flicked up from his notes. Despite his frazzled appearance he had an undeniable charm. His slightly stubbled jaw line may have been tense with the stress he was under but there was a softness to his features that drew you in.

‘Oh hi, yeah I found everything,’ he gestured to the scattered books around him. ‘Thank you again for pointing me in the right direction, this place is still a bit of a maze to me.’

‘Not a problem, late night book adventures are all a part of the job,’ you joked, earning you a small chuckle from him.

‘I’m Eric, by the way,’ he said as his gaze lingered on you, causing a warmth to spread inside you. You hoped you weren’t blushing as you managed to reply with your own name.

He repeated it, his English accent making each syllable sound deliberate and thought out. ‘Thanks again. I should probably get back to it before the caffeine completely wears off.’

Understanding his situation, you nodded. ‘Good luck, if you need anything else let me know,’ with that you made your way back to the front desk. You tried to work on some of your sketches but your thoughts kept wandering back to Eric. You’d seen your fair share of late night students, but none had captured your attention quite like him.

Hours slipped by, the library remained quiet with only the occasional rustle or soft footsteps echoing in the stillness. Each sound drew your attention to the stairs, hoping to see Eric walking down.

But soon enough the first rays of sunlight began to filter through the windows, signalling the end of your shift. You packed your stuff, glancing over your shoulder every few seconds in the hope of seeing Eric one last time before you left. Feeling a bit foolish for lingering over a brief encounter you sighed and stepped outside.

The next night came around quickly and before you knew it you were back in the library, among a new shipment of books, in need of scanning and logging onto the system. The smell of fresh pages and the rhythmic beeping of the scanner offered a welcome distraction from the lingering thoughts about Eric. You’d scolded yourself for fixating on a man you’d only had a few interactions with, deciding you needed to get out more.

You settled into a steady rhythm of logging the books but time still seemed to drag. Just as you were about to take a break the main door creaked open. A smile unconsciously spread across your lips at the site of who walked in. Eric seemed calmer today but he still had a determined glint in his eye.

He spotted you and matched your smile. His steps towards you were more confident than the previous night, your heartbeat picked up the closer he got. ‘Hey Eric, need help finding something?’ you greeted him first.

His smile widened as he reached the desk ‘no not quite. I actually wanted to come back and thank you properly, you really saved me last night.’ He leant on your desk, resting on his forearms as he looked down at where you sat.

‘Oh you didn’t have to come back just for that,’ you flushed. Had he really just made the trip here in the middle of the night to thank you again? Maybe you’d affected him as much as he had you, you tried not to dwell on the thought.

‘Yeah I was actually planning on bringing you coffee but I wasn’t sure what you liked,’ he scratched the back of his head nervously. ‘Didn’t want to bring you the wrong thing you know? And a lot of people don’t like to drink caffeine at night so I didn’t know if you’d want it at all, and it might be a bit weird for me to just turn up with it…’

He was anxiously rambling and boy did you find it endearing. ‘I like coffee,’ you gently interrupted, once again hoping to put him at ease. ‘I usually stop on my way here for a latte.’ You nodded towards the empty takeaway cup you’d thrown out earlier.

His shoulders visibly relax, ‘good to know.’ His smile returned as he spoke, somehow warmer this time.

The subtle implication that he was remembering that information didn’t go amiss, filling you with pleasant anticipation. A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, you wanted to continue the conversation but had no idea what to say. 

‘Well I guess I should leave you to it,’ he said as he straightened up again, tapping the desk as he did. You couldn’t stop the small pang of disappointment at him leaving so soon. Why had you expected more? After all, you barely knew each other.

Despite the urge to ask him to stay, you were technically working and were unsure of how appropriate that would actually be. You found yourself saying ‘okay, have a good night.’

You could’ve sworn you saw a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. He gave you a small nod and said ‘well, until next time.’ He flashed you one final smile before he turned and left as quickly as he’d arrived.

Watching him go, the echo of the closing door filled you with a mix of regret and anticipation. You wished you’d had the courage to ask him to stay but the moment had passed.

Sighing you got back to scanning the new books. You spent the remainder of your shift internally debating yourself. You’d only just met Eric, you felt crazy thinking about him so often but there was just something about him that lingered in your thoughts. And his parting words ‘until next time’ left you wondering if perhaps you weren’t crazy at all. 

It was rare for you to speak to any of the other people that worked at the library, due to being on the night shift you always worked alone, offering polite hellos and goodbyes to the people you swapped shifts with. That's why it was odd that Jennifer, the girl you were taking over for, approached you as you arrived at work a few days later.

‘Hey, someone came in here looking for you about an hour ago,’ she began whilst rummaging through her bag for her keys. ‘Cute guy, kinda had a lost puppy vibe. Anyways I told him you started at 10.’ Without waiting for your response she triumphantly lifted her keys from her bag, said goodbye and all but skipped out of the building.

She had to be talking about Eric, right? You’d been doing your best not to think about him the past couple of days. He hadn’t been back in since his second visit and you figured he was probably just being polite. You took a seat and began trying to sort through the returned books you’d need to re-shelve but you couldn’t stop glancing at the doors knowing Eric could walk in at any moment.

Why were you so nervous? You attempted to distract yourself by focusing on the task at hand but your mind kept wandering. What if he didn’t show up? What if he did? Your stomach churned at the thought of both possibilities. The familiar quiet comfort of the library did nothing to calm you tonight. 

You couldn’t help but over analyse every fleeting interaction you’d had with Eric. Was he really interested or were you reading too much into it? Maybe he wasn’t planning to come back after he’d left earlier. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t care if you saw him today. But you did care, more than you wanted to admit and the uncertainty gnawed at you.

Just before you had the chance to truly spiral the door swung open and there he was, the man who had been occupying your mind, holding two coffee cups. Relief seemed to wash over him as he spotted you, a shy smile making its way onto his face. 

‘Hi,’ he greeted, making his way over to you. ‘Hope I’m not bothering you.’

‘Not at all,’ you replied, your heart fluttering. 

He placed one of the takeaway cups down in front of you, ‘one latte, like you mentioned.’ 

‘Thank you so much, you really didn’t need to,’ you flushed as you reached for the drink. Your fingers briefly brushing against his sending a tingling sensation to shoot up your arm. 

His smile was calm and warm as he looked at you. ‘So… is working the night shift at a law library as glamorous as it seems?’ He joked as he took a swig from his own drink.

You laughed, ‘it’s not so bad, yeah it’s messed up my sleep schedule but it’s a pretty easy gig.’ Not taking the risk of him leaving again you continued the conversation, ‘what about you? Is being a law student as hectic as you made it seem?’ 

His laughter filled the air, a sound you could definitely get used to hearing. ‘Probably more stressful than I made it seem.’ he admitted before continuing, ‘so I take it you aren’t a student here then?’’

‘Oh, no. Law definitely isn’t for me,’ you replied, noticing his raised eyebrows prompting you to carry on. ‘I needed a job and it just so happens that not many people are rushing at the chance to work the night shifts here. I’m actually trying to save up to go to art school.’

His eyes lit up with interest, ‘art school? That’s amazing, are you planning to go to one here in the city?’

‘That’s the plan,’ you grinned up to him. 

A slight tension buzzed between you both as silence fell. Neither of you were eager for the conversation to end but both nervous to take the next step. Eric finished his drink and attempted to throw the cup in the bin, missing spectacularly. 

‘Oh shit,’ he scrambled to pick it up, his cheeks reddening with embarrassment. You couldn’t hold back the laugh at the failed attempt. In a playful gesture you picked up a crumpled piece of paper from your desk. Throwing it with a flick of your wrist you got it on the first try.

‘Oh I see how it is,’ Eric said, rounding the desk and pulling up a seat next to you. His arm brushed across your shoulder, the contact sending a shiver down your spine, as he reached around you to grab another piece of paper. ‘It’s on,’ he concentrated with mock seriousness, his tongue peaked out between his teeth. With one eye squinted he dramatically tossed the paper, landing it perfectly.

He threw his arms in the air and in a faux commentator voice exclaimed ‘And Eric makes the epic shot with only seconds left to spare! The crowd is going wild!’ 

You both dissolved into laughter, the moment completely breaking the ice between you. Any lingering awkwardness dissipated and you settled into a rhythm of throwing paper into the bin and sharing stories about your lives. It was easy, and the quiet of the library was the perfect backdrop to your flourishing connection. 

After hours of uninterrupted conversation Eric glanced at the clock. ‘Woah I didn’t realise it had gotten so late,’ he stretched into a yawn as if to emphasise his point.

‘Yeah, I guess I’m just used to it at this point,’ you replied, trying to stop your eyes from drifting down to where his top had risen during the stretch.

‘As much as I would like to stay, I have an 8am class,’ he murmured, another yawn escaping him. He looked over to you, not yet making a move to stand up. ‘Maybe I could come back and see you sometime? If that’d be okay?’ 

His eyes locked with yours and your pulse quickened, his words were confirmation that you weren’t reading too into this connection. 

‘I’d like that,’ you replied softly, feeling a light blush spread across your cheeks.

Eric’s smile widened, the tiredness in his eyes briefly fading. ‘Good, that’s great,’ he couldn’t hide his happiness at your reply. Standing up he added, ‘I’ll see you soon.’ 

‘See you soon Eric,’ your smile didn’t fade as you watched him leave. 

Just as he reached the door he paused to turn back to you, ‘goodnight.’

‘Goodnight,’ you echoed with a small wave. He returned the gesture as he stepped out into the night, leaving you looking forward to your next shift with a warm feeling in your chest.

Over the following weeks Eric became a constant part of your life. He frequently turned up during your shifts, always bringing you a drink and staying with you to talk. What started as nervous small talk soon blossomed into something more. You found yourselves sharing stories, your dreams and even just being able to rant about your daily lives to one another. You’d even swapped numbers, occasionally sending each other random texts throughout the day.

So why had neither of you taken the step to suggest meeting up elsewhere? You wanted to, you really did, but the fact he hadn’t suggested it yet made you hesitate. Was he content with the way things were, or was he just as unsure as you about taking things further? 

You found yourself lost in thought one evening, internally debating whether you should just take the next step and ask him out or keep things the way they are. A rubber band hitting your arm drew your attention back to the present, and the man sat in his now usual spot across from you.

‘Hey,’ he gently called. His eyes, soft as they met yours, showed genuine concern. ‘You were in your own little world over there, are you ok?’

‘Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking about some stuff,’ you deflected, hoping he wouldn’t pry any further.

‘Hmm,’ Eric hummed as he raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. ‘Were you thinking about finally letting me see your sketchbook?’

Heat flooded your face, but you couldn’t suppress a smile. ‘Definitely not,’ you replied, placing a protective hand over the book.

‘Oh come on,’ he persisted. ‘I’ve seen you drawing for weeks now. They can’t be that bad!’

You shook your head, ‘they’re not bad, it's just… personal.’ If you were being completely honest you’d never show anyone your sketchbook and the thought of sharing yourself like that felt almost too intimate. 

He offered you an exaggerated pout and his best puppy dog eyes, you’d be lying to yourself if you said it wasn’t working. ‘You wound me,’ he clutched his chest dramatically. 

‘Wound you?’ you laughed ‘I’m sure you’ll survive if you don’t see my drawings.’

Eric let out a theatrical sigh ‘You never know, I might wither away from curiosity.’ He chuckled as he cast you a playful glance.

‘You’re so dramatic,’ you teased, rolling your eyes in an attempt to hide your amusement.

He leaned forward, ‘Dramatic? I’m just expressing my unfulfilled wish to see your artistic genius.’

You laughed at that, shaking your head. ‘Artistic genius? Now you’re just trying to butter me up.’

‘Is it working?’ he asked with a hopeful grin, his eyes sparkling as he leaned even closer.

Your heart almost skipped a beat at the way he was looking at you. You stuttered, trying to put a cohesive thought together. ‘Not a chance,’ you managed to say.

He laughed, leaning back in his chair ‘Okay, I’ll drop it,’ he turned back to his work. ‘For now.’

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, the kind of silence that only comes when two people are genuinely at ease with each other. You were content, happy to spend your time in this little bubble the two of you had created. Eric apparently had other ideas as he broke the quiet after a few moments.

‘So, I’ve been thinking,’ he began, his tone had shifted to something more sincere. You turned to see him looking nervous, his eyes downcast.  ‘I’ve, urm, I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you,’ your heart jumped up your throat, what was he about to say? ‘I was thinking we could, if you wanted, we could go out sometime. To dinner?’

His eyes finally met yours, showing his vulnerability. For a moment you froze, the weight of what he was asking sinking in. A smile spread across your face, ‘I’d love that.’

His face lit up as the words left your lips, relief evident in his eyes. ‘Great! How about this Friday? There’s a new Italian place I’d love to take you to.’

‘Perfect,’ you agreed, feeling a flutter of anticipation. Friday couldn’t come soon enough.

Friday arrived quickly and you could hardly contain your excitement. You spent the morning out running errands. You found yourself in the grocery store, mind buzzing with thoughts of your upcoming date. Whilst reaching for a carton of milk your phone buzzed in your pocket. Seeing Eric’s name made you smile like a schoolgirl that just found out her crush likes her back.

‘Can’t wait for tonight, see you later :)’ 

You felt a rush of warmth and quickly typed back a response,  ‘Me too, see you soon!’

Before you could fully revel in the anticipation an ear splitting crash shook the world around you. The store windows shattered, sending shards flying causing you to duck down instinctively. All around you chaos broke out, people were screaming, car alarms blaring outside and another sound you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Heart pounding, you stood and assessed the situation. Everything was in disarray, broken glass covered the floor and random produce was everywhere. Dust and debris clouded the air, obstructing your view of the outside. What the hell was happening? 

Screams were still ringing out and you could hear car wheels screeching. Adrenaline surged through you and before you knew it you were rushing outside. You couldn’t believe the chaotic scene that unfolded before you the moment you stepped onto the street. Rubble rained from the sky, people ran in all directions, and a bus was flipped on its side in front of you. 

Panic surged but you forced yourself to move. Moving where though, you had no idea. Would your home be safe? Should you even try to get there? Your legs began to push forward of their own accord, taking you away from whatever was going on here.

A screeching sound rang out and you whipped your head in the direction of the sound. A large shape rushed by the corner of your eye, its speed too high to fully comprehend what you had seen. Adrenaline took over again and you began running in the opposite direction. 

An army truck roared into view, a speaker on the roof blaring out a message- ‘STAY INSIDE! TAKE COVER!’ Suddenly the truck was violently flipped into a nearby building. You skidded to the floor and looked to where the truck had previously been. Your mouth fell agape at the scene before you, a giant monster stood in the centre of the road. 

You froze, taking in the unbelievable sight before you, as a woman ran past you shouting for help. The monster's head snapped towards her and it lunged, smashing her into the ground with one swift swipe. 

A scream stuck in your throat and you scrambled backwards. What the hell just happened? What the hell was going on? You had to be dreaming, this was some manic nightmare and you prayed you’d wake up soon. 

You continued to crawl backwards, your hands scraping against the rough ground. Whatever was left of the woman’s body laid a few feet away from you. The creature's head turned, snapping towards any sound that rang out. You held your breath, every instinct in you told you to stay silent. 

A siren sounded out nearby and the creature bounded off towards it, Seizing the moment you scrambled to your feet and sprinted down a small alley. Hoping that the narrow passage would provide some sort of cover. You crouched low behind a bin, curling yourself into a ball and covering your head. You could still hear the sounds of the absolute havoc going on around you. 

Tears began to stream down your face, you wrapped your shaking hand around your mouth to stifle any sobs that threatened to escape. You were, understandably, terrified. Nothing could prepare a person for this situation. Your body shook uncontrollably and your mind raced, trying to grasp at any logical explanation. 

You shifted slightly and felt your phone digging into you from your back pocket. Your mind instantly fell to Eric, was he okay? You grabbed your phone, without thinking you tried to call him but the line was completely dead. You prayed he was okay, that he’d found a safe place to hide. You knew you couldn’t stay here forever, maybe you should make your way to where he was and try to find him. 

A crashing sound echoed in the alleyway and you looked up just in time to see one of the creatures jumping from one roof to the other. Debris cascaded down and the last thing you remembered was raising your arms to shield yourself from some falling bricks before the world went black. 

You regained consciousness hours later, it was dark and the chaos from before had fallen eerily quiet. Dust completely covered you and your head throbbed. You tried to focus and come up with a plan but the pain was making it difficult to think clearly.

You brought a shaky hand up to your forehead to try and alleviate some of the pressure. Your fingers met something warm and sticky, pulling your hand away you were sickened to see your fingers covered in blood. A groan threatened to escape but you quickly remembered the situation, remembering how quickly the monster had reacted to sound. 

Despite the pain you knew you couldn’t stay here much longer. Deciding it would be safest to move once it was daylight you huddled closer into the small space you found yourself in. 

The silence pressed down on you, making every breath you took sound far too loud. You put your hand in front of your mouth to dull the sound of your laboured breaths. Images of the creature's viscous attack flashed across your mind. As the hours drew on, the terrifying thought that there were probably more of them gnawed at your mind. The city was far too quiet for there to just be one.

As you hugged your knees to your chest, praying for time to move faster, your thoughts circled back to Eric. Had he managed to find safety? You didn’t let yourself think of the alternative. You hoped with every ounce of strength you had left that he was somewhere safe, and that you’d be able to see him again.  

As a dim light began to rise, a rhythmic thumping noise began to grow louder and louder. As it drew closer you realised it was a helicopter and from it a message was blaring out.

‘BOAT EVACUATIONS ARE BEGINNING NOW AT SOUTH STREET SEAPORT. TRAVEL SOUTH WITH EXTREME CAUTION.’

You forced yourself to stand, taking small careful steps forward as you focused on the remainder of the message.

‘THIS IS A MANDATORY EVACUATION ORDER. WE REMAIN UNDER ATTACK, SEEK SHELTER ON WATER, THE ATTACKERS CANNOT SWIM.’

Hope. If you could make it to the boats you stood a chance of escaping this living nightmare. You made your way to the alley's exit and tried to figure out the best way to go. The street that you would usually expect to see filled with people and cars was silent. The paths were now littered with rubble, cars were abandoned haphazardly, smoke billowed from a few of the buildings and people’s belongings were scattered everywhere you looked. 

The once vibrant and bustling city had been turned into a war zone. You began to make your way south, walking as quickly as you dared to go. Every small sound had you on edge, terrified that one of those things was going to appear at any moment. Your head still throbbed though the blood covering your forehead seemed to have dried.

As you continued through the city, more people began to come into view. As everyone silently walked in the same direction you couldn’t help but look to the other faces around you, hoping to find a familiar one in the ever growing crowd. Dread filled every step you took, the more people that joined the silent march the more you lost hope. How would you find Eric in all of this? 

You clenched your fists, determined to not let thoughts like that overwhelm you. Eric was okay, he had to be. 

Before long at least a hundred people, maybe even more, had joined the crowd you were in. No matter how quiet everyone was trying to be a group that large couldn’t help but give off noise. You carefully made your way to the edge, thinking it would probably be best to find another way to get to the seaport, away from the bustling of the large group. 

Just as you made it to the edge, loud screams tore through the air sending a chill down your spine. The monsters had found you all. Panic instantly erupted in the crowd, people tried to run, desperate to escape from the terror that had arrived. 

Your heart raced as you dived into what had been a clothing shop. You ran to the back and crouched behind an overturned display, trying to steady your breathing. Peeking through a crack in the counter you could see the creature's terrifying forms moving wildly through the crowd. 

You waited with bated breath, until the world had fallen silent again to emerge from your safe spot. Your whole body shook but the seaport was still your only chance to get out so you forced yourself to move. Slipping back onto the street you found it almost empty, a few survivors darted away, smoke billowed from buildings, more rubble had fallen and in the middle of it all stood a black and white cat.

The cat seemed to be looking at you. You tentatively took a step towards it, but it scampered off. Your eyes followed it, watching as it playfully chased a rat down the middle of the road, before it ran towards a subway entrance out of your eye line. For that brief moment, amidst the devastation the sight of the cat felt strangely grounding.

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding and turned away, refocusing yourself. You didn’t think you had too far to go now, though the imminent threat had you treading carefully, staying vigilant to not draw any attention to yourself.

As you continued the sun began to slowly set once again, how had a day passed already? And to make your journey even harder, it began to rain. Deciding it would be too dangerous to continue at night in the rain you opted to find shelter. 

You found a small abandoned cafe nearby and slipped inside, grateful to be taking shelter from the hard rain. You tried to make yourself comfortable behind the main counter. The hours dragged on as you stayed hidden, listening to the thunder rolling overhead. Exhaustion tugged at your eyelids, though you fought to stay awake, fearful of what could happen if you let your guard down. 

You found a small abandoned shop nearby and slipped inside, grateful to be taking shelter from the hard rain. You tried to make yourself comfortable behind the main counter. The hours dragged on as you stayed hidden, listening to the thunder rolling overhead. Exhaustion tugged at your eyelids, you fought to stay awake, fearful of what could happen if you let your guard down. 

Dawn broke and thankfully the rain had stopped. You cautiously stepped out, determined to reach the seaport as fast as possible. You kept to the shadows, moving as swiftly as you dared. It wasn’t long before the faint sound of water lapping the docks reached your ears. Turning the corner you spotted a crowd waiting at the edge of the water, silently filling onto a boat. The sight spurred you on, safety was so close. 

You stumbled onto the deck, your trembling legs almost giving out beneath you as relief flooded over you. A shuddering breath escaped you as you looked back to the city, now a desolate landscape. You found a spot near the back of the boat, watching as others boarded too, their faces a mix of exhaustion and desperation. 

As you looked over the people boarding, a tousled head of brown hair caught your eye. You stood up on your tiptoes, your heart beating faster. Could it be him? It was like a scene from a movie, the crowd began to part, you held your breath as the man's face face was slowly revealed to you. Though your heart dropped as more of his face came into view. It wasn’t Eric. You felt foolish, believing that out of everyone in the city you’d actually make it onto the same boat as him.

Taking a seat you wrapped your arms around yourself. It all felt surreal, being caught between two worlds. The chaos you had escaped and your uncertain future that lay ahead. The boat pushed away from the city, finally putting the hell behind you. All that was left for you to do was to wait, and hope that everything would turn out ok. 

‘Stop the boat…STOP THE BOAT!’ shouting jolted you from your thoughts. The urgency in the voice made everyone turn back to look at the city. Standing you followed the gazes of everyone on board and spotted a lone figure sprinting towards the water’s edge. The sight of the monsters chasing them made your blood run cold. 

The entire boat seemed to hold its breath as the person ran with everything they had, the monsters closing in on them fast. Without hesitation they leapt into the water, narrowly escaping the creature's outstretched arms. People rushed to the side of the boat, lowering ropes as they shouted encouragement. You noticed a discarded blanket on the deck, and grabbed it, knowing they would need it.

As you pushed through the crowd you caught sight of a drenched cat being lifted from the man's hands. And then your breath caught in your throat. The man’s eyes met yours and time seemed to stop. It was Eric. 

The shock hit you like a wave and before you could fully process what was happening you lunged forward, reaching out for him. ‘Eric!’ His name escaped your lips, a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming relief.

He looked equally as stunned as he whispered your name, his voice full of emotion. You fell to your knees in front of him and wrapped your arms around him tightly, afraid he might vanish if you let go. ‘You’re here,’ you heard him murmur as his arms closed around you. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision as you held onto him. ‘I thought…I didn’t know if...’

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, not giving him a chance to finish that thought. ‘I’m here,’ you reached up and cupped his face gently. ‘We made it.’ You looked into his beautiful soft eyes, his tears mirroring your own. You wiped away a stray tear and smiled as he leaned into your touch.

And then, without another word, seeming more determined than you’d ever seen him, Eric closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a desperate but tender kiss. The warmth of his touch grounded you in a way that nothing else could, washing away the horrors of the past few days.

Eric’s hand came up to cradle the back of your head, deepening the kiss as if he was pouring all his unspoken words into it. When you finally pulled away, breathless, his forehead rested against your own. ‘We made it,’ he echoed your words, his voice barely above a whisper as his lips brushed against yours.    

Against all odds you’d found each other. The world around you seemed to fade away as you sat there, holding on to one another. The boat rocked gently beneath you as it resumed its journey away from the city. Despite everything that happened, despite the chaos of this new world, you were together, and for now, that was enough. 

[midnightmoonkiss]

Sweet Dreams.

Wednesday Addams X GN! Reader

Word Count: 1.2k+

“Why are you awake.”

Her deadpanned voice suddenly appearing behind you in the dead of night made you jolt in bed with a shrill gasp.

You were quick to lean up and look behind you, shoulders sagging when you saw it was just her.

Wednesday.

Dissatisfied with your lack of a quick response, she prodded, “Well?”

“‘Well,’ why are you in my room in the dead of night,” You fully flipped your body around to give her your utmost attention, and to tease her properly, “Come to give me a kiss goodnight?”

She was definitely not wearing pajamas. Why was she in her normal attire this late at night? The clock read 2:12AM, clearly you both would be going to classes this morning with bags under your eyes.

Oh, matching with your beloved was always so sweet, wasn’t it?

“Don’t be greedy,” She chastised, “I already gave you one before I left for my dorm.”

Huffing, you crossed your arms, phone completely disregarded on your pillow, “Well, I’ll always accept more.”

She acknowledged you with a single blink before eyeing your sleepwear, fingers slipping behind her to the cold glass of the window that she crawled through to shut it with a thump.

“A shame you won’t be getting anymore.”

“Don’t be like that..” You pouted.

“You didn’t answer my question, why are you awake.”

Sighing, you uncrossed your arms, “Alright, I’ll answer your question if you answer mine, okay?”

Begrudgingly, she agreed with a short nod.

“I can’t sleep.” You smiled at her, the most simple answer in the world.

That forbidden nap you took earlier fucked up your sleep, and now here you were hours later and barely even tired.

You knew you needed more rest to get through the day and yet… here you were, still awake.

Woe is you.

“I want a better answer.”

“Too bad, that’s all you’re getting.”

She glares at you, and had you been anyone else, you probably would have been scared shitless. For the most part, when it comes to you, she was more bark than she was bite.

That’s not to say she hasn’t bitten you before, of course, she was just more flexible when it came to your antics.

She looks away when she sees the question in your own eyes, why was she there?

Truth be told, and she see’s no point in lying, “I come here when I can’t sleep.”

Oh.

That caught you off guard.

“You come here?”

“Yes.”

“And how often is that?” You’ve never noticed her before.. granted, you were usually asleep at this hour.

“Twice a week.”

Sometimes you wondered if she was comfortable standing straight as a board all the time.

“Huh.. and why’s that?” Maybe you should be creeped out, but if anything it was flattering that she’d visit you.

Even if you weren’t awake.

“You look at ease in your sleep, as still and lifeless as a doll. It,” Discomfort crosses her face, and she’s left staring out the window to avoid the eye contact she typically didn’t care about, “It brings me peace.”

You kind of felt like Bella, but Wednesday was less creepy than Edward. Or maybe she was just as creepy, if not more so, only you didn’t mind it because you loved her.

To know you bring someone you care deeply for peace just by sleeping.. it makes your heart swell.

But..

“Why do you need to come here for peace? Are you alright?”

You knew about what was going on in her more,, crazy life. She had a stalker, and all that happened last year combined with this might make her uneasy.

She may be Wednesday Addams, but try as she might to fool everyone, she was still just a human with emotions.

Thoughts like that always creep up at night, and maybe even Wednesday herself needed comfort every once in a while. There was no shame in it, and certainly no shame from you.

She never even disturbed your roommate in all this time she’s been doing it, she was being beyond respectful. They’re even dead asleep now as you both talk quietly.

“Of course.”

And of course she wouldn’t admit to anything, her pride would be praiseworthy if it didn’t irritate you sometimes.

Rolling your eyes, you smiled once more at her.

“Well if you can’t sleep, and I can’t sleep, why don’t we try sleeping together?”

Though contemplation crosses her face, she turns, “No. I can sleep fine by myself.”

Stubborn as always.

And maybe that was the truth, but there’s no harm in indulging in something alongside of it.

“Well,” You shoved yourself back into bed, “I don’t think I’ll be sleeping then. Are you heading back?”

Once again, her glaring eyes are on you, you always felt so giddy under he gaze. To know you annoyed her enough to strike an emotion.. oh, surely it was love?

“Are you trying to guilt me into staying by saying you won’t sleep? It’s not going to work.”

You nodded in understanding, pulling the covers back over you, “Then it won’t work. I loved seeing you, safe travels, fruit bat.”

The air was still as you went back on your phone, endlessly scrolling through social media apps.

Four minutes had passed and you could still feel her unwavering stare on you.

She was in disbelief no doubt, or maybe further contemplating your offer, or your murder.

Whatever happens, you’re still sure to get a good morning kiss, it will just either be accompanied with bad breath or mint.

Another six minutes had passed when you finally heard the floorboards squeak and a shit eating grin appeared on your face when she yanked the covers off of you,

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And I’m also cold, so either get in or cover me back up, please.”

The bed dipped as she wordlessly sat on it, her boots thumping to the ground as she took them off, soon followed by the sound of rustling clothes.

She pulled opened your drawer, no doubt taking and putting on the pair of black pajama pants you kept specifically for her in there should she ever wish to stay.

At the time it seemed foolish, but now you were more than happy you did it.

How she knew they were there.. well, who cares.

Not you. Especially not now that she has slid in and threw the covers over your face.

You could almost squeal with elation.

“Do not cuddle me, I will skin you and use it as a pillowcase.”

“No doubt,” You agreed, finally turning your phone off.

Just being in the same bed as her.. you felt content.

Even if she was like a black hole that sucked all the heat out of you and your warm cave while still remaining cold to the touch.

With a sigh, her arms crossed over her chest as she laid on her back, eyelids finally slipping shut.

Flipping over, you faced your girlfriend as your own eyes shut, fully ready for sleep to take you to the trial of death once more.

And..

You wouldn’t know this, of course.. but

Wednesday was glad you asked her to stay. Deep down, she wanted you to say that.

Your presence.. she didn’t like how easily she relaxed around you.

She’d never admit it, but waking up beside you filled her with enough joy that she briefly smiled.

[ryeriy]

late nights | lewis hamilton

-> summary: it's a lazy and peaceful night for the reader and lewis

-> pairings: lewis hamilton x fem!reader

-> a/n: I like the smaller font but tell me what you guys think

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Dim moonlight crept through the curtains, illuminating the bedroom before it. It was late at night, late enough where most should be asleep, yet here the two were.

The soft touch of Lewis' fingers trailed lazily over y/n's back, warm and gentle. Her head rested against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as her hand found his hair, tousling it as it swept through her fingers, dark and messy.

“Hey, I put effort into that” Lewis’s voice murmured. Y/n could see he was attempting to be grumpy, but he couldn’t hold up the act, his lips breaking into that familiar grin after a couple of seconds.

"You'll be fine," she mumbled softly as she let out a tired groan and laid on top of him rubbing his hair.

Lewis smiled wider, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer. He didn’t mind having a lazy night, there was something nice about it, the peace and quiet, the closeness. It took some time to get used to. He was often gone, whether it was acting, modelling, or just running quick errands. Having time to lay down with someone else he cared for was a rareity indeed.

“What’d you get up to today?”

"I had some drinks with friends...it was boring.." she spoke softly and was mumbling because her head was lying on his chest. She continued to stroke his hair.

“Boring with some drinking? Impossible,” Lewis laughed, he wasn’t too surprised to hear about the night out, y/n often met up with her friends during the day. He enjoyed letting her relax when she came back though, there was something satisfying about helping her settle in for the evening.

The strokes in his hair felt nice, he leaned into them, feeling a tad drowsy. There was something so calming and peaceful about being here with y/n, the fact she felt comfortable enough to settle down meant the world to him.

"It was the worst two hours of my life..but the drinks were fine...I drank extra to drown them out.." she continued stroking his hair.

It was a little comical watching y/n try to act moody while she continued to play with his hair, but maybe he wasn’t that much better. He was tired, and quite comfortable, it wasn’t going to take much for him to fall asleep either.

Lewis chuckled softly, leaning his head into her hand more as he smiled.

“You know… you could’ve just left”

"They were my ride home.." she said as she nuzzled her head into his chest.

“Could’ve just called me,” Lewis mumbled, his tone gentle but also full of banter. He couldn’t help it, though, he did like teasing her after a hard day’s work.

He brushed a few strands of her hair behind her ear, tucking them in place as he let her nest into his chest. Despite all the late nights they shared together, this was still pretty special.

"I was drunk and wasn't thinking very well.. " She sighed in defeat.

Lewis didn’t mind, it wasn’t much of an issue to him that she didn’t let him know she needed a ride home, and he knew she probably felt bad enough about it without him making her feel worse. He let out a soft sigh, running his hand up and down her arm in a bid to relax her more.

“Alright, fair enough, well, you know I’m always here for you, it’s only a call away”

"I know baby..." she mumbled against his chest. She adjusted my body and got comfortable still stroking his hair.

Lewis smiled as she settled further. He couldn’t help but like it when she was all cuddly with him like this, it was adorable. He wrapped his arms around her, gently scooping her up to lay her across his lap properly. He started to rub her back, trying to ease away some of the tension from the night. “Just relax”

She let put a sigh and she kept her hand in his hair. "I love you.."

“I love you too darling…” Lewis muttered softly as he continued with the light rubs, he liked the way she would melt in his arms like this, it made him feel needed.

He ran his fingers through her hair slowly again, it was almost a trance-like movement, relaxing as he did it. He couldn’t explain why it felt so comforting, but he liked it anyway.

She closed her eyes softly and kept fluttering them open and shut. Lewis was pretty tired himself, the pair had been laying together for quite a while now, his movements beginning to slow a bit as well. He had noticed that y/n was drifting off every which way, but he didn’t mind, it felt nice to lay here with. He pulled her a little closer to him, wanting to see her sleeping face.

Her hand slowly started getting slower until it stopped in his hair. Lewis was pretty much staring at her now, he couldn’t pull himself away from her, he just wanted to lay there and watch her. She looked beautiful as she slept, peaceful without a care in the world. Her hair, tangled as it was, still looked incredibly soft, and her lips looked pretty perfect too. He couldn’t believe he’d pulled this beautiful girl to lay down with him in bed.

He took note of her slow breathing and her relaxed body language, it was adorable. Lewis brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face, letting the strands cascade back down her cheeks. He let out a soft yawn, as his own eyelids began dropping. Soon enough, the pair both fell asleep holding each other peacefully.

[shitouttabuck]

playing with the hair and "you sure this is ok" sounds so soft aaaah I hope you'll find inspiration, I love your writing

got a little sappy with this <3

bed-sharing prompts: person A idly playing with person B’s hair while they’re asleep + “you sure this is okay?”

the sound of love astounds me

Eddie’s man-behind today. Bobby tries to be fair with it, not constantly relegating the probies to the job no one really wants, and today it’s Eddie’s turn again.

He’s grateful for it—he slept badly last night, and that’s probably why Bobby made him stay behind in the first place, taking pity on his dragging feet and muffled yawns not one hour into their shift.

They’re past the 18-hour mark now, late night blanketing the firehouse in a thick, heavy quiet. The rest of them have been out on a call for a while, a three-alarm factory fire at the edge of their jurisdiction. Eddie’s itchy about it, always is when it’s a more serious call and he’s not there alongside his team. Not there alongside his partner.

Buck’s a big boy, and Eddie knows, he knows him not being there isn’t going to unbalance the dynamic of their team so dramatically something goes wrong, but. He’s supposed to have Buck’s back, and as much as he trusts the rest of the 118—with his life—no one else is Buck’s partner. Not the way Eddie is.

The sound of the engine backing into the station catches his attention and he gets up from the couch, leaning over the loft railing as everyone stumbles out the rig, sooty and sleepy. Hen looks up and gives him a tired smile, Chim bumping into her shoulder as he blows Eddie a kiss before heading to the showers.

Buck’s last out the engine, exhaustion written into the slump of his body. He doesn’t look up at Eddie, seemingly lost in his own thoughts as he shuffles slowly after everyone else.

Eddie reheats dinner, serving it all up just as the rest of his team flops into chairs around the dining table. Still no Buck.

“Did you cook this?” Ravi asks, poking suspiciously at the casserole with a fork.

“I’ve made my peace with food poisoning, I’m so fucking hungry,” Chim says, mouth already full.

“Hey,” Eddie protests mildly. “I followed Bobby’s recipe exactly.”

“Really?” Bobby asks, examining his own plate in surprise. “Oh, uh, no, of course. Looks good, Eddie, thank you.” He takes a very deliberate bite, making a big show of chewing amidst noises of approval.

Eddie sighs and turns to Hen. “Where’s Buck?”

“Still showering,” she tells him. “Rough one today.”

Eddie’s heart sinks. “Did you lose someone?”

Hen shakes her head, setting down her fork. “No, no—sorry, didn’t mean it like that. He got stuck carrying two guys out on his own, though. And one of them was in pretty bad shape. Think his whole body is feeling kinda tender.”

“Oh,” Eddie blows out a relieved breath. “Okay.” He smacks Chim’s hand away from the last corner of the casserole. “That’s for Buck. You can have some more garlic bread.”

Chimney pouts at him, and Eddie ignores it in favour of covering the casserole dish and sticking it back in the oven to keep warm.

One by one, everyone wanders to the bunks, drained from the day. Eddie hangs behind, clearing up the kitchen and waiting for Buck to show up. There’s no sign of him by the time the counters are sparkling, so he flops back down on the couch with his book. If it’d been a bad call… Eddie’d like to think he knows what Buck needs, usually. And sometimes that’s just a minute to decompress by himself, washing off a weight of weariness rather than an intangible hurt.

Sure enough, he hears the quiet padding of Buck’s footsteps come up the stairs not much later. Eddie cranes his head over the back of the couch, smiling upside-down and wonky when Buck comes over.

“Hey,” he says. “You okay?”

“Mm,” Buck hums. His eyes are droopy with exhaustion, cheeks ruddy from being under the hot spray of the shower for so long.

“Dinner’s in the oven,” Eddie tells him.

Buck exhales heavily, giving him a small smile. “Not so hungry.”

“Sleep, then,” Eddie says, nodding in the direction of the bunks.

Buck grimaces. “Everything aches.”

“All the more reason to sleep,” Eddie presses.

Buck looks at him, blinking tiredly. “Okay,” he says, suddenly amenable, rounding the couch and climbing onto it. He drapes himself across it, settling on his back and shoving his head into Eddie’s lap with a contented sigh. Eddie sits frozen, book in one hand and the other hovering over Buck’s chest.

Buck cracks open one eye to look up at him consideringly. Eddie smiles down at him automatically, can’t really help himself, and gently lowers his forearm to rest across Buck’s broad chest.

“This okay?” Buck asks, slightest note of hesitancy in his voice.

“Better if you were asleep,” Eddie says, flipping the page of his book. He lets the hand curled around Buck’s torso squeeze gently, reassuringly, even as he goes back to reading.

Buck huffs an amused breath, wriggling a little as he settles more firmly in Eddie’s lap, turning his head to get comfortable. This angles his face so that it’s basically pressed into Eddie’s crotch, tip of his nose brushing the fly seam of Eddie’s pants.

Eddie swallows, positioning his book a little higher to cover any change in expression his face might betray, because—it’s Buck, and this isn’t sexual, but God, Eddie hasn’t had this kind of intimacy in his life in a while. He’s less worried about popping a boner from his best friend’s face so close to his dick and more concerned Buck’ll take one look at him and know just how badly Eddie wants him this close, all of the time.

Whatever. If everyone had a friend like Buck, everyone would be a little insane about loving him this much, too. It’s not an Eddie thing, it’s a Buck thing.

Buck’s breathing evens out, deep and steady, and Eddie reads until the words start swimming on the page. He yawns, putting the book down and wondering if he can catch some sleep like this, because he’d rather be trapped on a desert island with his parents than wake Buck up right now.

Buck’s snoring lightly, warm puffs of breath Eddie can feel even through the fabric of his pants. His hair is curling messily from his shower and—there are bits of… something in it? Eddie sighs, knowing Buck probably just zoned out under the spray for half an hour without actually scrubbing his hair at all.

He runs his fingers through Buck’s hair, dislodging flecks of indiscernible airborne debris from the fire. He cards through more purposefully, combing it out as best he can and scratching his nails gently against Buck’s scalp.

Buck murmurs, nuzzling into Eddie. The hand closest to the back of the couch scuffles along the cushion till it finds Eddie’s, wrapping around it and tugging it to his chest with such strength Eddie blinks in surprise, astonished that he’s still asleep.

Eddie goes back to sorting through Buck’s hair one-handed, discarding tiny pieces of detritus lodged in his curls. He gets a little lost in it, something calm and hypnotic about the repetitive motions: stroking, cleaning, brushing through, over and over and over.

He’s startled from it when someone clears their throat softly. He just about manages not to jerk in his surprise, and Buck remains slumbering peacefully. Hen’s standing a few feet from the couch, eyebrow cocked and mouth quirked with amusement.

“There a reason you’re grooming Buck like a monkey picking nits off her baby?” she whispers.

Eddie flushes, removing his hand from Buck’s curls. “He has a bunch of shit in his hair from the fire,” he says defensively.

Hen bites down on her smile. “Okay, okay,” she says soothingly, like she’s talking to a spooked horse. “He forget to actually wash it during the longest shower known to man?”

Eddie sighs, fingers resuming running through Buck’s hair almost unconsciously. “You know how he gets when he’s this tired.”

Hen hums, and Eddie looks up at her again. “Why’re you up? Can’t sleep?”

She shakes her head, inclining it towards the bathrooms. “Just needed the toilet.” She makes as if to head back down, then pauses, looking at him assessingly.

“What?” Eddie asks.

“Nothing,” she shakes her head again, smiling softly. “Just—I don’t think there’s anyone other than Karen and Denny whose hair I’d pick through voluntarily. And any other kids of mine, I guess. Family.” With that, she turns and disappears down the stairs.

Eddie swallows. He looks down: Buck, face pressed into Eddie’s stomach; Buck, hand clutching Eddie’s arm to his chest; Buck, curls wild and springy from where Eddie’s been running his fingers through them, cleaning him, grooming him, taking care of him. Hen’s not dropped a bomb of any sort on Eddie; Buck’s his family, he knows that, Buck knows that, he’s fairly sure anyone who’s ever met them knows that.

But he thinks yeah, there isn’t anyone other than Chris and Buck whose hair he’d pick through like this. And maybe that’s a different, more specific kind of family than he or anyone else realised. Maybe that’s a different, more specific kind of love.

Buck snuffles discontentedly in his lap and Eddie scratches his scalp soothingly, heart settling as Buck settles.

So maybe the reason Eddie wants him close all the time is slightly different to what he thought. This remains true: if everyone had a friend like Buck, everyone would be a little insane about loving him this much. That’s a Buck thing. But maybe, if he’s open to it, Eddie can make loving him this much, every day and in every way, an Eddie thing and exclusively an Eddie thing.

Buck shifts on the couch, tugging Eddie’s arm a little higher up on his chest, and Eddie splays his palm over Buck’s heart, feeling the steady thump.

When Bobby wakes them both for breakfast hours later, Eddie leans against the table to stretch the crick in his neck from sleeping sitting up. Behind him, Buck reaches a large hand out to massage the junction of his shoulder gently, and Eddie melts into his touch.

“Would you pick nits out of my hair?” he asks before his brain comes fully online.

“Sure,” Buck says, not missing a beat. “D’you have lice?” He leans forward to inspect Eddie’s hair and Eddie swats him away.

“No,” he says, slightly offended. “I do not have lice. Just—hypothetically.”

Buck yawns. “’Course, Eds,” he says. “Your lice are my lice, and all that.” He serves himself a heaping of scrambled eggs and ambles off to the kitchen to grab orange juice from the fridge.

And maybe Buck is just the kind of person who, unlike Eddie and Hen, would comb through anyone’s nasty hair. But your lice are my lice is more romantic than anything Eddie’s ever heard, even in his own wedding vows, and when Buck knocks his knee against Eddie’s under the table before stealing a bite of hash brown, Eddie thinks maybe this love between them is equally cared for, a two-way street in every sense of it, a Buck-and-Eddie thing.

(more bed-sharing prompts)

[quietlyimplode]

ignite your bones

After the fall of General Dreykov, and the remnants of the Red Room still at large, Natasha first year at SHIELD is anything but healing. Labeled a traitor and a turncoat, Natasha tries to find her footing in a strange new world.

Whumptober 2024: Day 17 - nowhere to go

Warnings: angst/talk of injuries

Word Count: 1.3k (gif not mine)

Summary: Maria and Natasha bond over a joint goal: who hurt Clint.

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

.

Natasha breathes.

She still feels gloved hands on her face and body. The smell of them.

She pushes down the memories.

The silent panic whirls and builds as she walks back with Maria.

He’s okay, she assures herself.

Maria wouldn’t let her stay long.

He was asleep.

It was late.

But he was alive and the pain was worth it.

Maria keeps looking back at her. If she didn’t know the woman, she’d think it was in worry.

They arrive back at her cell and the blood is gone; from the floor, from the glass.

Natasha wonders who did it.

If there’s cleaners or someone else.

She can’t stop thinking. Her head hurts.

Her hands hurt.

The lights are so bright.

Memories of medical in the Red Room keep flashing across her mind.

Clint being beaten.

She bites the inside of her cheeks.

“What happens now?” she asks Maria.

The woman regards her with a look.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” she answers, leaving Natasha locked in.

“Don’t... don’t do anything stupid,” she says as a parting shot.

Natasha tries to nod, failing and wondering what that would look like.

.

The hours of the night are quiet,

Deciding against sleep, Natasha lays on the floor and throws the ball of tissues that Maria had given her between her hands.

The night doesn’t feel long, memories and flashbacks making the time fly as Natasha moves in and out of dissociative states.

Soon the artificial lights turn back on and she squints at the intrusion of light.

Breakfast is delivered by Maria, and Natasha feels curious at her intentions. She wants to ask how Clint is doing, but knows it would betray too much.

The breakfast is packaged, just like Clint usually brings.

Maria brings it like a peace offering, handing it over without ordering Natasha to put on the handcuffs.

Instead, she asks to come in.

Curious, Natasha moves out of the way, allowing entry and stepping back so her body is against the wall.

“Why are you scared of medical?” Maria asks.

Natasha doesn’t answer.

“It doesn’t matter,” Maria mutters. “Do you want to help me find the man that hurt Clint? We have one, he’s been arrested, but the other one… we don’t know.”

Natasha feels the Black Widow in her stir.

Of course she does.

To fight? To attack and hunt? She was made for that.

“Yes.”

The one word answer makes Maria nod.

“I thought so.”

She produces a folder and hands it over, then takes one of Natasha’s apples and starts to eat it.

“Smith, is a generic name, and it seems he’s using the anonymity of it, to his full advantage.”

She hands Natasha a picture.

“He can’t leave the country, so he’s probably still around. I just need someone else to look at it.”

Natasha looks at the dossier.

“Why me?” she asks, finally looking up to Maria’s waiting eyes.

“Because you’re as invested as I am. And I think if you were going to betray us, you would have by now.”

She pauses.

“I also think that you owe Clint.”

Words that Natasha tells herself feel strange to be coming out of someone else’s mouth.

Looking back down at the printed paper, Natasha takes a breath and focuses.

“Tell me what else you know.”

.

Clint opens and closes his hand, sighing softly as the morning rays help to bring him from sleep.

It’s the first day he feels somewhat human.

They’d been decreasing the painkillers and, even he had to admit that after three days here, he was ready to leave.

Coulson had always been close.

For that, he was thankful.

No one around, he takes the time to examine himself, test some movements and stand to look at himself in the bathroom mirror.

His bruising was darker now, especially on his face.

He wasn’t surprised.

With a dark thought, he sees the resemblance to his mother.

He looks away.

Rarely does he think of her.

He misses her, he thinks idly.

Clint lifts his top. Bruising is similar to his face.

He twists and winces.

Broken ribs are quite possibly the worst.

His arm that protected his head was a clean break, and he thanks his hindsight that it was his right arm and not left.

He can still shoot if he needs to.

Making his way back to the bed, he starts to pack his clothes, slow in his movements.

“Ready?” comes a voice he knows to be his superior.

“Almost.”

Coulson offers to hold his bag, and he hands it over without a fight.

“I’m going to need to go to my apartment.”

Coulson nods.

“The safe house isn’t much further from there.”

Clint wants to ask how Fury is going, if there’s been progress in removing the parasites of SHIELD.

“Okay,” Clint nods, taking a breath and heading out the door.

He makes a point to thank the nurses, and asks them to pass his appreciation onto the doctor as well.

He likes this medical team.

He finds they do the best they can, with the people they have and they try and help.

“Where’s Maria?” he asks.

He’d thought that she would perhaps come, instead of Coulson, feeling sure the escalation of events in SHIELD would have taken Coulson away.

“With Natasha,” Coulson’s replies.

The answer makes Clint stop.

“They’re fine,” he assures, nudging him forward.

“They’ll meet us at your apartment.”

“Thompson agreed to let her out?”

Coulson shrugs.

“Fury did. Thompson perhaps had different things to contend with.”

Clint has so many questions.

Diligently, he follows Coulson to the car and holds his tongue.

Breathing in the fresh air, he halts, grimacing at the pain.

“Are you okay?” Coulson asks, opening the door and watching Clint carefully.

“Just sore.”

Clint climbs in, takes a look back at the building, and sighs.

He hopes when he comes back, the SHIELD he thought he knew will be back.

.

Natasha sits with Maria, the blue couch soft.

Clint’s apartment is small but she feels safe as she looks around.

The courage to ask, burns in her throat.

The room is silent. Maria gets up again, walks to the kitchen, and sighs.

“You don’t even like me.”

Natasha starts, regretting her words as soon as they're out of her mouth. She worries her words will make Maria send her back to the cell.

“What are you doing? What do you want from… me?”

Natasha makes her body stay as still as possible, barely breathing as she waits for a response.

“You’re not the only one who’s been through things,” Maria starts, “you’re not the only one with a bad childhood and a history...”

Looking at Natasha and waiting until she looks her in the eyes.

“There are things happening at SHIELD that you set in motion. I don’t think it’s your fault, but I don’t wholly know that. What if you did it to destabilise us? But then all evidence points to Thompson being dirty. So what if you’ve done us a favour?”

She grips the mug nearby.

If Natasha closed her eyes, the words could wash over her, but with the intensity of Maria’s stare, they feel like small knives of distrust.

Ones that Natasha shouldn’t care about.

“You had nowhere else to go. If you stayed there I suspect they would have killed you. And that put my friend in danger. So here you are. He trusts you, for some reason, and you better not prove him wrong.”

Natasha hears cars, the sounds of the city outside and a dog barking in the distance. Noise has been so absent that she welcomes it. The smells too.

The cells were devoid of anything. This feels overwhelming, but in a way she feels grateful for.

“You’re right, I don’t like you and I don’t trust you, but it doesn’t mean I can’t help.”

Natasha looks at her hands.

Maria would have done well in the Red Room.

Maybe in another life they may have been friends.

But then… she wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

.

[sopiao]

hey!! i love your writing so so much oh my god. your account is just perfect– if it's not too luch to ask (and forgive me if this is a little long) can i request headcanons with taskforce 141 + masc reader???

reader's kind of distant from the rest of the task force. they all get along with him just fine, does what he's asked to do on missions and all that, but he just feels kind of... absent. nobody really gets what his deal is, but they've gotten used to him. (BONUS POINTS IF HE ALSO WEARS A MADK HE DOESNT TAKE OFF THAT OFTEN... i wanna be cool too </3)

one day he wakes them up, and (to their surprise) tells them that he had a nightmare. this is the softest his voice has ever been and the most he's ever opened up– just. fluff and comfort lolz :p

FIRST TIME WITH FLUFF OR COMFORT!!!

i’ve always had a hard time writing this kind of stuff but i’m cleaning out my inbox so.. ^^

SORRRYYY IT TOOK ME FOREVER TO GET TO THIS >3<

it sorta implies angst?? like the nightmare is something serious of an issue?? idk

(Callsign will be Anon to make it easier for me ☹️)

Anon has always been distant, keeping some space and never really contributing to any of the conversations x But they still treasure him just as much as each other. They understand that some people just have a hard time with stuff like that or just don’t wanna get into it in general.

Soap and Ghost always makes constant visual checks to see if he’s still part of the group, since he’s always quite as a mouse it’s hard to keep track of him. Price would make sure to save a seat for him whenever he’s a little late. And Gaz would always check up on you from time to time.

They make sure you felt part of the team. Just because Anon doesn’t really have a deep connection with any of them doesn’t make him any less one of them.

—

In the middle of a mission they all had to sleep in a safe house for the night. A rather small one since they had to share a room together. Sleeping bags all lined up across the room. One soldier found it hard to get at least a wink of sleep. Price’s and Soap’s loud and grumbling snoring didn’t really disturb them since it was practically white noise to him now.

After half an hour Anon finally found the ability to be carried into rest. It was peaceful for a while. Until he woke up violently, body twitched when he woke up from how intense it was. He found that it was hard to keep his breathing under control and try to focus on one thing. Physically and emotionally.

He put this off as a last resort and tried everything to calm himself down. But when all else failed he turned to Ghost beside him. Reaching for his mask and hastily pulling his mask over his head, hesitating before bringing his hand up to shake Ghost awake, he’s a light sleeper anyway.

“What? What happened?” After a second to comprehend what was happening he sat up and looked around, thinking something happened, like someone broke in or someone found them. But once he saw his comrade’s, somewhat, relaxed but worried eyes and stopped.

Sitting up fully and comfortably, he asked if everything was alright. Judging by his lack of response Ghost nodded, immediately understanding and not making a big deal out of it since this is way out of his comfort zone.

“Go on.” He nodded his head, sitting next to him and relaxing against the wall, still half asleep but still willing, very willing, to listen and comfort if needed. Ghost listened intently as Anon began to explain and mumble out what happened in his sleep.

“Uhm.. Fuck— Now that I’m thinking about this, it sounds stupid—” Looking down and fiddling with the edge of his sleeping bag Anon’s interrupted by Ghost.

“Just tell me. You’ve already got me up” He’s probably not the best one for comfort, but he knows he’s trying, not the best with his words, but he’s willing to listen.

It stuns him for a second with his bluntness, but chuckles lightly, knowing that he really does wanna listen. He starts to explain, second guessing himself every couple sentences, but slowly he gets more comfortable with sharing.

Halfway through Soap starts to stir and move in his sleep, making both stop and just stare. Turning around to see both sleeping bags empty, Soap immediately sits up and searches for them, only to see them off the side, sitting together.

“Oh.. shit..” He calms himself down, both Ghost and Anon look at each other before looking back at Soap. He slowly sits up and crawls over to where they are, next to Anon so he’s between Ghost and Soap.

“What’re you two doin’ up?” Somehow his accent is deeper when he’s half-awake. Slouching back against the wall, almost leaning on Anon’s shoulder.

“I couldn’t sleep after.. a.. uhhh… nightmare” Anon was hesitant to explain, wondering if waking up his friends were really worth it, hoping that they wouldn’t make fun of him. Soap just hums in response.

“Nightmare? Al’right. Continue” To Anon’s surprise, Soap wants in too. He looks back to Ghost who just shrugs and nods, silently telling you that it’s up to him whether he wants to share or not.

Before Anon can even start again, both Price and Gaz wake up, both confused as fuck, but following along, dragging their sleeping bags over to him. They were all now wide awake, Price laying back in his sleeping bag, arms crossed, half-awake but still lucid enough to understand stuff coherently.

Anon started to explain again, relaxed to see how supportive his teammates are with how little they really know about him. Once he got to a certain part of the nightmare, the part that really made it a nightmare, his lungs felt tight once again.

Suddenly his mask felt so thick and concrete, he had to lift it up to his nose to breathe. Blubbering out apologies between breathes as they tried not to stare too much.

“Nah, nah. You’re fine” Ghost reassured him through his mutters, rubbing his back to try and soothe him. It didn’t, but it was something. Something that they were there to listen.

“Don’t force yourself if you don’t wanna tell” Gaz nodded, not wanting to force Anon to go too much out of his comfort zone, in the chance that he changed his mind and wasn’t okay with sharing this kind of stuff.

“I’m fine.. fine” Anon nodded his head, realizing how much of his face he exposed and tried to cover it up with his hands so he can still breath. But for those couple seconds that his lower half of his face was open. A large, old, scar decorated his lips, diagonally going from the top right to bottom left, almost reaching his chin.

With something so unexpected being exposed, the fact that Anon even reached out, it made them all alert to watch out for his emotions and how he’s feeling. But what was most surprising for them, was how he talked. It was usually so stern and short, always getting straight to the point. Almost robot like. But now, it’s softer, more warm but sorta confused, he fumbled in his words a little but it was just so different than how he is out on the base.

An hour has passed, but now that all of that is out of Anon’s head, and everything, almost everything, was off his chest, the sleepiness started to catch up to him. In the midst of Ghost explaining how he was feeling and the possible reason for it, Anon was already asleep, snoring softly as he struggled to keep up.

They knew that this was something you’d never do. So it was a sort of shock for him to break his blocked off demeanor. But it made them feel good that Anon even considered venting. Even if it was something small like a complaint or something annoying, they wanted him ti let it out.

(this has been in my drafts for forever T-T)

[joels-darlin]

Dear Diary...

Pairings: pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x reader, CEO!Joel (sort of)

Warnings: angst, hurt, sadness, Joel has been an ass basically.

Summary: Joel Miller broke your heart. So it's time to do what you do what know best - dust off the diary from the top drawer of your bedside table and put pen to paper.

Word count: 771

Author Note: This one is already up on AO3 but reposting here as I originally deleted it. I also had an idea in my head for a banner so went with it. This is not beta read, if anyone wants to volunteer please let me know! <3

Original Author notes: I am back...sort of! Always wanted to write for CEO!Joel and my original idea just never got off the ground, then this came along. I am unsure if there will be more 'entries' - there are many ideas floating around my head right now for this fic. I guess stay tuned and we will see where this goes! Read on AO3!

Chapter 1: Brokenhearted ~ ~

Dear Diary, Its been awhile since we crossed paths, I left you collecting dust in the drawer for a few months and I’m sorry. For a while life was good, I felt happy. There was no urge to scribble away my deepest and darkest thoughts, I had someone who could take them away instead. His arms a place I considered to be at peace. But here we are again: putting pen to paper. Because everything fell down the steep slippery slope again and this is how I cope best.

Where do I even begin?

Oh wait I know, the coffee shop. The unexpected run-in that was once a happy memory, now tainted. Little did I know the moment I locked eyes with those chocolate brown orbs I was done for. We had our first date a week later, then 10 months he would go running back.

In the midst of all this I am the one that is dealing with the loss. Not just his presence but my routine. Weekends spent curled up in the comfy chairs at the back of that coffee shop, book in hand, a cappuccino and pastry for company. I could spend hours there. But I’ve not been back since, its too difficult. Joel, you have ruined that for me - I hope you are happy.

I’ve never felt loved by anyone. Joel made me feel special. Pouring all my energy into this…relationship? situationship? What would you even call it? it was never the topic of conversation. But those three words were spoken, I remember it clear as day. In the back of my mind there was hope: would I spend the rest of my life with this man? Had I finally found the one?

Everything seemed so right. But no that was not to be. That random Monday in December, the words engrained into my brain forever: “We can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry but…I still love her”

Her meaning his ex-wife, the one he divorced over 12 months ago.

Then it all came pouring out. Those times he backed out on or date nights or phone calls. Told me he was working late to meet deadlines or having client catch-ups. And I stupidly believed him - why you ask? because I understood being the CEO of your own company comes with huge responsibilities. But instead he was meeting her for dinner, drinks and god knows what else. I don’t even want to even comprehend to be perfectly honest. The worst of it? All those broken and empty promises I will never be able to forgive him for. I hope they are happy together.

It’s been a week since that day and everything still feels raw. It’s difficult to describe the feeling of heartache. That crushing weight on your chest making itself known on every breath. The heavy feeling in your heart at the memories that once were. Constant swirling pit of anxiety in your stomach, making things such as eating a chore. Not forgetting the racing thoughts. Overthinking every last moment of what happened these past few months - was it me? what did I do wrong? did you ever really love me? I can’t even begin to tell you how many hours of sleep have been lost. How many nights I’ve spent crying into my pillow, wishing the pain to simply go away. I probably deserved this.

The thoughts are at their loudest when I am alone, there are only so many distractions one can find - even if just for a short period of time. It all plays over and over in my head like a constant film reel. every kiss, every subtle, loving touch and well…every time we laid together. All of this now gone and only a distant memory, he is no longer mine to call. I am in a constant state of anxiety, waiting…just waiting for my phone to ping at any given moment with a message from him. But it will never happen.

I guess now the hard work is to come, attempting to move on from someone you had the deepest of connections with. At the end of the day it wasn’t just on a romantic level it ran so much deeper than that. We shared a common ground for many things: music, books, sports even down to beer! There was no-one else I could sit in the same room with, the two of us doing completely different things, but also feel at peace.

I love him…simple as that. but what pains me the most? I don't regret many things but looking back, he could be one of them.

[neewtmas]

hihihi im here with the request hehe thank you so so so so much again you’re so amazing i can’t believe it

lockwood x she/her reader with the prompts

"Prove it."

"How much of that did you hear?"

“It's a long story." "I got time, try me."

but if they don’t make sense just go with the flow you’re already so so so so so wonderful for doing all of this i’m not gonna be picky lol 🫂🫂🩷🩷

hellooooo!!! thank you so much for these great prompts and for your patience!

I have to admit I did struggle with an idea at first but I think I turned it around and now I'm actually really proud of this, so I hope you like it too :)))

Enjoy 1.5k of Lockwood goodness just for you <333

masterlist

When you woke up, the room was filled with the pale glow of the full moon shining outside the attic window. Usually, Lucy pulled the curtains close when she went to bed, so there shouldn’t have been a way for the moonlight to disturb your peaceful slumber. Your eyes were heavy as you felt around the other side of the mattress. It was cold, Lucy’s blanket still folded up from the morning before. You slowly sat up, looking over at the little digital alarm clock on Lucy’s bedside table.

11:30.

Due to a headache, you had gone to bed earlier tonight, leaving your three colleagues behind in the living room. The pounding in your head had subsided considerably after a few hours of sleep, but your throat felt dry like sandpaper. You reached over to the cup on your bedside table, only to find it equally dry. Oh well. With your house slippers on, cup in hand, you made your way down the stairs. You made an effort to be quiet, just in case anyone else was sleeping already.

The kitchen was dark, and you didn’t bother switching on the bright light which would have probably only hurt your eyes anyway. The faucet was right by the window, where the moon shone bright enough for you to see what you were doing. After two cups of water, you were ready to make your way back to your bed. As you carefully pulled the kitchen door closed behind you, your eyes fell on the thin strip of light that poured out of the living room onto the floorboards of the hallway.

On second thought, maybe the bed could wait and you could join Lucy for some late-night talks in the living room. You stepped closer to the door, subconsciously trying to move as quietly as possible. As you approached the door, you could hear Lockwood’s voice as well as Lucy’s. So they were both still awake. The door was slightly ajar, allowing you to peer into the room before opening it fully.

Lockwood and Lucy sat on the couch, Lucy with her back to you. George was nowhere to be seen, probably in bed already. Something about the way Lockwood and Lucy were turned towards each other made you stop in your tracks. The hand that had been ready to push open the door slowly fell to your side, as you watched with wide eyes as Lockwood took both of Lucy’s hands, smiling at her tenderly.

“Look, I’ve been trying to get this off my chest for such a long time. Ever since you started working here, really. You are so important to me.”

It felt like someone had placed a noose around your neck and pulled it tight. Were you about to watch Lockwood confess his love to Lucy?

Lockwood hesitated now. You watched Lucy squeeze his hands. “Go on”, she said encouragingly.

“More important than I could ever put into words. Everything about you is perfect to me.”

Suddenly you felt like throwing up. Your head was spinning as you stumbled backwards and blindly felt for the wall to steady you. The thought of them being able to hear you didn’t even cross your mind as you practically raced up the stairs.

⫘⫘A few minutes prior, in the living room⫘⫘

“No, stop! Try again.”

George was slouched in one of the chairs, biscuit in hand. “That was horrible, Lockwood. Where are the feelings? Where is the love? I’m not feeling the love!”

Lucy had to bite back a laugh as Lockwood grimaced. “It’s Lucy! You try confessing your undying love to Lucy, and we can talk again.”

She kicked his shin. “Hey! Don’t forget I’m trying to help you out here. Just imagine it’s Y/N. Shouldn’t be that hard, we know she’s all you think about.”

The tips of Lockwood’s ears went pink. “Alright, alright. Let’s try again. Lucy, don’t look at me like that or I’ll laugh.”

Lucy made an effort to keep a neutral expression. Lockwood went to grab both her hands and took a deep breath.

“Look, I’ve been trying to get this off my chest for such a long time. Ever since you started working here, really. You are so important to me.” A short pause. George nodded encouragingly and showed a thumbs up. Lucy squeezed Lockwood’s hands.

“Go on.”

“More important than I could ever put into words. Everything about you is perfect to me.”

Lockwood was about to continue when the sound of footsteps on the stairs sounded through the room. He immediately dropped Lucy’s hands. “Did you hear that?”

George got up, turning to the door. “Yes”, he said slowly. “Sounded like someone running up the stairs.” He and Lucy exchanged a worried look as Lockwood rushed to the door. “Shit! Do you think she heard?”

“Probably.”

“That was not the plan!” But Lockwood didn’t stay to explain what exactly the plan was, instead, he ran out into the hallway and up the stairs, taking three steps at once.

Lucy looked over to George. He just shrugged. “Maybe that was the kick in the ass he needed.”

Lockwood was sure that he had never run up a set of stairs that fast in his life. He was out of breath as he came to a halt in front of the door to the attic. His hands were sweaty as he knocked a few times, praying that you would open the door.

At the knock you sat up on the bed, frantically wiping away the tears from your cheeks. Who could that be? George? Maybe your running had woken him up and he was here to tell you off. You buried your head in your pillow. You didn’t want to talk to him. You wanted to wallow in self-pity and cry about the fact that the boy you liked, liked your best friend instead. But the knocks continued.

You wiped your cheeks again, just for good measure and hoped that the tears weren’t so obvious. You pulled open the door, ready to tell George that you were sorry but not in the mood for a scene, but the words died in your throat as you came face to face with Lockwood. You gasped, trying to close the door again. He moved so quickly that you barely registered it and held it open.

“Are you crying?”, he asked, and while you shook your head, the tears came back with a vengeance at the concern and tenderness in his voice. “No”, you sniffled, taking a few steps back. “Leave me alone, please.”

He ignored you. “What’s wrong? Were you downstairs?” You didn’t say anything, just wiped another stray tear. Lockwood sighed deeply. “How much of that did you hear?"

It felt like your stomach had tied itself into a thousand knots. “Listen, Lockwood, I’m happy for you and Lucy, but please, I need some time to myself right now.”

“Y/N –“ Lockwood ran his hand through his hair. “Listen to me. It’s not what you think.”

Suddenly, you could feel anger rising within you. What was he trying to do? Flirting with you for months, keeping your hopes up, only to then choose Lucy and tell you ‘it’s not what it looks like’.

“It’s not? It seemed awfully clear to me, Lockwood.”

You could tell he was hurt by your sharp tone.

“I swear it’s not. Please, Y/N, you have to believe me. It's a long story."

You crossed your arms over your chest. "I got time, try me."

Lockwood buried his face in his hand. It was hard for you to see him like this. He seemed to be in great distress.

He stepped closer to you, and you allowed him to take your hands, even though you immediately had the picture of him doing the same to Lucy in your mind.

“This is going to sound so dumb, but I promise you it’s the truth. I’ve been thinking so long about how I could possibly tell you how I feel about you. And George had this idea – this stupid idea where I would confess to Lucy, but pretend it’s you. Like a practice run. That’s what you heard.”

You stared at him. “How could I possibly believe that?”, you finally asked, and his shoulders slumped down. “You always know exactly what to say, in every situation. How am I supposed to believe that you need to practice –“

“Because you make me so unbelievably nervous, Y/N. You should have heard the five attempts before that final one. It was pathetic. George could have come up with something better.”

You smiled weakly. “I’m not sure about this.”

Lockwood looked at you, desperation written all over his face. “I know a way of proving it to you if you let me”, he said, his right hand slipping up your arm to cup your cheek. “Please?”

Your head was spinning from his sudden closeness and the warmth of his hand. You closed your eyes. “Prove it”, you whispered and your heart skipped a beat as you felt the soft touch of his lips on yours.

[lizzyflowers]

Dreamswap... dear beloved Dreamswap... I have so many thoughts about you....

Gosh i need these two to confront their feelings and hurt and heal and recover and give each other comfort so desperately you can't even imagine.. No i don't spend each and every waking hour thinking about them what do you mean haha...

Below the cut is me rambling, this is your time to scroll past to save yourself from the insanity i will get into.

These two, THESE TWO!! I can't even comprehend my own thoughts for them, like, i imagine too many scenarios. The angst is insane because i need them to suffer but i also need them to lovingly hold each other in their arms.

I need Dream to realise how much of a mistake his actions are and how flawed his world view is, like, WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WANT TO KILL YOUR CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND THAT WAS THE ONLY PERSON WHO SAW YOU AS THEIR EQUAL BACK WHEN YOU BOTH WERE KIDS??!?!? AUGHH, I can't even, the angst potential is so good, yes i know it's an AU that's centred around comedy and filled to the brim with gags but i need you to look at me in the eyes and genuinely tell me as if these two aren't in the most tragic situations ever.

Dream completely believes wholeheartedly that killing Nightmare is the only way to eradicate all negativity and being upset about the notion, but pushing down his conflicted feelings because he prioritises the happiness of the majority of the multiverse and wishes nothing but a better future.

No matter how much the thought hurts him but he's numbed all of his feelings towards Nightmare that he regards the other with indifference.

And Dream is tired. He is so tired of chasing Nightmare, from the ever growing responsibilities that he has to take care of as the head of an organisation, from the endless nights he would stay awake to finish his work. He used to love someone, but that someone probably hates him. He couldn't fix it and acted as if nothing happened.

He used to have another person that he loved dearly, that he cherished, but now they were gone as their illness consumed them. He's angry, but not at them, at himself. Maybe if he knew, maybe if he was fast enough, he could've saved them. But he was too late, and now they are gone.

And the only other person that used to love him doesn't want to be anywhere near him anymore and he knows it's his fault. God, why did he have to mess everything up?

It seems as if every person that he ever loved will eventually drift away from him. Taken away from him by his own actions or things outside of his control.

He catches himself looking at the old and worn pictures he has of him and Nightmare when they were younger when they were happier, the picture is fragile, the passage of time wearing it down, it's yellowed and he keeps it in a picture frame.

Sometimes he can't bear looking at it, placing the picture frame down on its front. He hides away the other photographs in a locked drawer in his bedroom.

Sometimes he fiddles with the sun charm around his shirt collar, running his finger along the ridges as he stares off into space, being pulled to reality as someone knocks on the door to his office, snapping him out of his reminiscing.

Sometimes when he lays down in his bed in the rare times he would actually sleep, he would imagine another presence in front of him, their messy black hair strewn about as they rest, face peaceful.

It brings him back to the past and he has to close his eyes and try to ignore it. Ignore the voices he would hear, calling out to him, ignore the faces that would remind him of someone...

Nightmare feeling so betrayed that the only person that he thought would have his back in his entire life to go against him, just like everyone else. He looks up towards Dream so much, admiring the other's dedication and kindness.

But to be chased away, falsely accused, being labelled a criminal, having the entire world against him and knowing that he's blamed for all the despair that's inflicted towards him. This guy has every right to be a villain, but he proved them wrong, he kept going, not heeding the words they say to him, what they label him as because he knows they're wrong. (Or does he? does he doubt himself all the time? does he question the things they say about him? does he ever wonder or think to himself that they were right? that what they are saying isn't completely far from the truth? that maybe they're right and he should just disappear from the face of the world for the betterment of everyone?). Coming so close to death so many times, never having the comfort of knowing that he'll have a roof over his head anymore, not knowing if he'll have food to eat, never sleeping soundly, being plagued by Nightmare and visions of his own death, of his imprisonment. Getting cuts, bruises and fractures and pushing aside the pain because he has to keep going, he has to keep going or else they'll catch him and that will be the end of his life, no matter how bleak it all seems.

And what if it all comes to end before he know it? What if Dream finds Nightmare and his bloody body, dead from the hands of other, or even himself? How would Dream feel then? That the person he was after was no longer alive at the hands of others, or worse, by the hands of the same person that used to look at him with comfort and smiles in their eyes?

That he failed as a friend, not being able to save his best friend from their own hands. It was his fault, wasn't it? He drove Nightmare to do this, and now he's gone. The guilt would gnaw away it his soul and Nightmare couldn't have that, no matter how many times he glances at the sharp objects near him when he felt like giving up. He couldn't do that to Dream. No matter how much he wishes he could just end it all right then and there.

He misses Dream, he misses the time when they would joke and laugh with each other, he misses the way the other would warmly smile at him, when the other would hold him after a bad nightmare in the middle of the night.

He misses Dream's cooking because he was horrible at it himself, he misses when Dream would read to him the stories he read as he dozed off, listening to his voice drone on. He misses when Dream would take care of him when he was sick and stubborn to take care of himself and the other would scold him for not resting. He misses it, he misses it all so dearly and he missed being told that he was loved. He wanted Dream to say it to him again, like nothing ever happened but he couldn't have that anymore.

SOBBING, I AM NOT OKAY ABOUT THESE TWO, AUGHHHHHH

[hresvelged]

well, well, well. the bell tolls on another winter yuletide and he thinks not of the tally board when he watches her in the snow this evening. she’s coarse and cold and— (something else, just like the snow. beautiful? could he say that?) but, he knows her mind is set on a course so distant, she seems so far away, even now as the snow falls before her. Ferdinand understands that the greatest gift he could probably bestow on her today would be peace of mind, but it wouldn’t be him if he came around empty-handed, would it? it didn’t matter how far away she seemed. and it certainly didn’t matter to him how wide the white, white field was between them. the aegir finest, starkly bright, made a quiet trail of footprints to her. his dear rival. “edelgard.” voice even, emotions scarcely sealed, he couldn’t hold down a smile as he regarded her. “here, for you. an Aegir original.”

he had thought to give her something more… oh, he didn’t know. something more gentle? she would not have appreciated it in the present, however, but he thought, if they lived until eighty, she would one day appreciate his sensibilities. he didn’t look down at her, but wished for her to embrace a side often neglected in favor of war song. but, having done all the work to select hair ribbons for her and all, he found himself staring back at something in the window that he could not deny she would prefer more. pocketing the ribbons (perhaps for another time, another season, far off) he instead walked into the blacksmiths and asked if they could teach him how to make it himself. And so, in a couple of weeks, he left the smiths with a pewter letter opener, smithed to look like an imported silver sword with a jeweled handle. its sleek black box was wrapped in lavender, to regard her eyes quite fondly.

“thank you. for the year, that is. it’s riveting to have a rival as capable as you are.” he stares up at the snow for a moment, smiling, before meeting her gaze. “oh, but come the new year, and i’ll have more challenges in store for you! look forward to it!”

♪ ❆ HAPPY HOLIDAYS! ⋆❅ ˚₊⋆

As the snow melts atop her crimson cape and blends into locks of ice, she stares into gray cascades. She's always looking forward; always thinking about what's to come. The sternness on her face stands strong against the cooling ice sprinkling itself on porcelain gloves and red tights.

It is his voice that cuts through the solitude, steps but close behind. A brow arches, lips drawn of surprise. "Oh? It's fortunate you happened to find me by my lonesome." How odd, she thinks. Odd for her silhouette to greet his own with naught but cold sweeping past them. In a way, it feels befitting for someone like Ferdinand. "Well, regardless. An Aegir original, hm? I will see that for myself, it appears.."

Carefully does she unwrap the item, folding purple into squares. Silently. Her hues fix on the letter opener as she looks into its stillness. The princess remains a moment longer as she lingers on its practicality. Forehead wrinkles fall, replaced by a nod. "I do require tools like this. Thank you, Ferdinand— For the gift." Especially with the number of letters she's received as of late. "I can tell you put thought into it. Consider the effort noticed." Edelgard lifts the present out of the box and moves it closer to her line of sight. As snowflakes sparkle, an airiness seldom exposed finds itself upon her face. "I could do without the challenges, though." Moving the gift to her rightmost, she clutches it among hidden digits.

"Approach me after class tomorrow. I need to speak with you about an important matter." When that hour comes, she has prepared a brand new floral tea set. It is a purposeful act, unveiling itself only when she is ready. As Ferdinand stands here in front of her, with a memorable persistence and a gift given, does she find herself reflecting. When the future comes, she has hopes he will continue to stand under the Empire's banner. The snow falls stronger.

"Before then, let me say one thing. That determination you hold is your own doing— Including where we find ourselves now. This gift.. I accept it not because of where it's from, but of the person who gave it to me." As she places it back in the box and closes its lid, Edelgard tucks it under her arm. "When the next moon springs itself upon us, I hope you will remember this."

[bellaxgiornata]

Safe Haven [Chapter Six]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.2k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains violence, drug use, domestic abuse, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers

a/n: This one brings some fluff and intrigue! And Birdy being Birdy... I always appreciate feedback so feel free to chat with me! And hopefully I didn't mess anything up, I did a fast edit so I could post!

Tag list: @loveroftoomanyfandoms @farfromstrange @rotscinema @1988-fiend @shouldbestudying41 @shiorimakibawrites @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattmurdocksstarlight @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @mattkinsella2 @ms-murdockswift @theetherealbloom @24hflower @mattmurdocksscars @schneeflocky

Bright light hitting the back of your eyelids caused you to stir, a faint groan falling out of you. Tightening your eyes closed further, you burrowed into the warmth beside you, nuzzling your face further into your pillow. You’d had a peaceful sleep for once, this time not waking up with a headache from the wine you usually drank to achieve a sleep so undisturbed, and you didn’t want to wake up. You were comfortable. But the warmth around your waist unexpectedly squeezed you in return and your eyes flew open instantly.

You were met with the sight of a blue and white striped sweater, your mind quickly falling back to the previous night. You had come over to check on Michael after you’d seen him break down in his room through your bedroom windows that faced each other. He’d told you how he’d been there when his nephew–no, his son , you reminded yourself–had been accidentally shot and killed. He’d also told you how no one else in his family had been there for him.

Which remained true last night, too. You had told Michael you’d be there for him as long as he needed you, and that had turned into the pair of you staying up for quite awhile talking last night. Generally about not much in particular–certainly nothing personal on either of your accounts–but the conversation always managed to loop back to Jamie. And Michael had broken down each time the topic of his son’s passing was brought back up. Through the hours you’d been sitting on his sofa with him, not once had someone called him or came to his door to check on him. Not a single time. 

Your heart had broken at that knowledge, which was probably why you’d stayed so late here that you had apparently fallen asleep on Michael. Now your cheeks were heating up with embarrassment realizing you were about to experience another awkward moment with him. Biting your lip, you tried to glance up and see if he was awake, but all you could see from where you were positioned on his chest was his dark beard and his mouth. And for a moment your eyes lingered on his lips, becoming all too aware of the solid feel of Michael beneath you. Eyes closing, you breathed in the warm scent of him that seemed to envelope you. He smelled like something earthy and smoky, the scent reminding you of the many birch trees you’d seen around Ireland when you arrived, but also something warm, too, almost like cinnamon. The scent of him reminded you of a bonfire on an autumn day–comforting and peaceful.

His unmistakably large palm ran up the length of your spine as beneath you Michael apparently stirred awake himself. He inhaled a deep breath, your head rising up with the movement of his chest, as his hand slid up your back. You fought the urge to physically shudder under his palm–his touch had felt too good. And it was wrong in so many ways for you to have enjoyed that as much as you had. But then Michael’s hand abruptly stopped just between your shoulder blades as if he, too, realized the situation the pair of you were in.

Very slowly you pushed yourself back from Michael, realizing you had one arm wrapped around his waist and one hand gripping his shoulder. You removed them both quickly, your eyes awkwardly meeting his as you did. His own arms immediately slid their way off of your waist, returning to his lap as he sent you a sheepish smile.

“Well this is certainly…” you muttered, voice trailing off as you glanced away.

“Awkward?” he supplied.

You nodded, tucking some hair behind your ear as you did. “Yeah,” you agreed. “Just a–a bit. I uh, I’m sorry for–”

“Don’t apologize,” he said quickly, cutting you off.

Your eyes flew back up to meet his, taking in the gentle expression on his face. The smile on his mouth was still there, though it looked slightly less timid than it did seconds ago. 

“I uh, I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep,” you mumbled.

“Neither did I,” he admitted.

Silence fell between the pair of you as you shifted a little bit away from him on the cushions. Your eyes fell down towards your feet, taking in the sight of your mismatched socks. Heat was still burning at your cheeks as you sat there incredibly aware of his presence beside you. Sucking in a sharp breath, you turned to Michael and spoke at the exact same moment he did.

“I should go.”

“D’ya want some coffee?”

The both of you sat there, trying to catch what the other had just said. Your lips parted, eyes going wide at his offer. Meanwhile Michael’s expression returned to sheepish as he ducked his head, running a hand over the back of his neck. He nodded solemnly.

“I understand,” he whispered.

“I mean I–” you began slowly, stopping to nervously bite your lip when he immediately looked up at you from under his lashes, his hand pausing on the back of his neck. “I could…go for a coffee,” you finished lamely.

“Yeah?” he asked, his hand falling down to his lap as he perked up. “It’s probably not anythin’ fancy to ya, I’ll admit.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “As long as it’s not decaf I’ll happily drink some caffeine right now,” you replied. “I just uh, should probably call Megan. If you don’t mind? She had that shift last night and is probably wondering what the hell happened to me now that I think about it…”

Michael waved a hand as he rose from the sofa. “No, go ahead. I’ll get a pot brewin’ in the kitchen. Which is just down the hall there,” he said, pointing down his hallway.

You nodded, sliding your phone out of your pocket as Michael turned and exited the sitting room, making his way towards the kitchen. Immediately you noticed you had a few calls and texts from your sister. The last one was from ten minutes ago. Heart sinking at having worried her, you quickly dialed her number and waited as the phone rang. But it only took two rings before she picked up.

“Fucking hell, are you okay?” Megan asked, voice full of concern.

“Yes, I’m so sorry, Meg,” you told her in a rush. “I would normally have sent a text or something but it was late and I guess I fell asleep without realizing it. I just woke up and figured I’d give you a quick call so you wouldn’t be worried. I’m so, so sorry.”

Megan blew out a rough breath on the other end of the line. You felt awful for making her worry like that, especially with the two shifts she’d had to work at the hospital and especially with your situation. She’d probably gotten shitty sleep last night and it was all your fault. 

“I thought you were fucking gone,” she whispered. “Or–or dead .”

“I’m so fucking sorry, Meg,” you repeated. “I really am. It won’t happen again.”

“Where are you?” she asked. “If you’re not here, where the fuck did you fall asleep?”

You cleared your throat, your eyes darting towards the partially open door of the sitting room. Briefly you wondered if Michael could hear you. Would he be listening in?

“I’m uh, next door,” you said awkwardly.

There was a moment of silence before Megan let out an ear splitting shriek. It was so loud that it startled you and you had to pull the phone away from your ear until she was done.

“Christ, thanks for that,” you muttered.

“You fucked him didn’t you?” she squealed. “Oh my God, you took my advice!”

“Pretty sure that wasn’t your advice,” you said, lowering your voice. “But no, I did not do that.”

Megan scoffed over the line. “Yeah, okay. As if there’s any other reason you’d be there the whole night,” she said.

“He was grieving ,” you snapped, your voice a quiet hiss. “I saw him through that damned bedroom window and I couldn’t just–just ignore him. So I stopped by and we talked. Ended up falling asleep on his couch with him. Nothing of that nature happened.”

“So you’re coming back over now?” she asked slyly. “Because if you’re calling me instead of just coming back home, I’m guessing the answer is no.”

Eyelids dropping closed, you knew she’d caught you there. Your shoulders fell as you sighed.

“He’s making me coffee,” you admitted. “So I’ll be back after that.”

“Oh, you’re staying for morning coffee?” Megan teased. “He’s not trying to kick you out already? Damn, sis, he wants you bad .”

“Stop it,” you warned.

“Come off it,” she replied. “You know you want him. Stop trying to hide it from me. I’m not an idiot.”

“I’m hanging up now,” you said.

“Just undo that man’s zipper, get on your goddamn knees, and ta–”

You hit the ‘end call’ button in the middle of her comment, already knowing exactly where she was going with that. More than likely she’d be repeating all of that to you when you went back home after that coffee. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t about to go into Michael’s kitchen and try to not think about his cock. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out.

The memory of his strong arms around your waist just moments ago resurfaced. It had felt so incredibly good to be wrapped around him when you’d woken up, your head resting on his firm chest. He’d smelled good, too. Better than you could have imagined. You knew you weren’t going to be able to forget about that now–any of it. 

Shaking your head, you tried to push all of those thoughts aside for the time being. Now wasn’t the time to make sense of them. Michael was probably wondering what was taking you so long. Rising to your feet, you slid your phone into the pocket of your sweatpants and shuffled your way around his coffee table and towards the hallway. As you walked, you realized his kitchen was the same distance from the sitting room as Megan’s was from hers. You figured he'd probably heard at least some of that conversation and that thought had you blushing.

When you rounded the corner and turned into the kitchen, you spotted Michael already pouring coffee into mugs on the small island counter. His eyes darted up to you, a small smile on his lips as you stepped over towards the kitchen island. Gradually you came to stand at the opposite end of it, leaning your hands against the black countertop. 

"How d'ya take your coffee?" he asked.

"I'll drink it black," you answered. "I don't need all the extra in it."

He picked up one of the white ceramic mugs and took two steps towards you, holding the cup out to you. You whispered a soft 'thanks' as you accepted the steaming mug from his hands before drawing it to your lips. Swallowing the hot liquid down, you eyed the coffee mug in your hands in surprise–it was better than you'd expected.

"What? Not good?" Michael asked curiously.

Your attention turned to him over the top of the mug and you immediately shook your head. "This is actually better than those coffee pods Megan has," you responded. "You apparently have good coffee."

You thought you saw pink tinge his cheeks as he turned towards his fridge, opening it and pulling creamer from a shelf. He poured some into his own mug as he shook his head.

"Can't actually take the credit," he admitted. "Birdy was the one who picked it out." His eyes rose up and fell on you as he put the cap back on the creamer. "Ya met her already, from what I've heard."

"Ahh, yes," you replied, bringing the mug back up for another drink as you carefully thought out your response. "She did pay me a welcoming visit the other day," you continued after your sip. "Seems like a sweet woman. Apparently she knows good coffee then."

That seemed a safe reply.

Michael chuckled, nodding as he turned and opened the fridge door again to put away the creamer. "She's certainly somethin'," he mumbled. 

Both of your hands held onto the warm mug, oddly enjoying the coffee and the light conversation with Michael this morning despite the awkwardness of having woken up on top of him. Across the small kitchen island, he raised his own mug to his lips, his eyes on you. With the bright sunlight pouring through the large window just to your left, you could see the varying flecks of green and brown in his eyes. They still seemed to hold a lot of pain in them, but they also somehow looked lighter this morning than any other time you’d run into him yet. A little less mournful, somehow.

“Thank ya for stayin’,” he said softly, breaking the silence. 

You shrugged, fingers nervously fidgeting against the mug in your hands. “Wasn’t a big deal,” you mumbled.

“It was to me,” he replied.

His eyes held yours and it felt like his gaze had somehow pulled you in yet again; you couldn’t seem to look away from him. His elbows were resting on the countertop as he slowly leaned in further towards you, and even though he was still a few feet away, the little gesture felt somehow intimate. Your pulse quickened when his mouth opened, as if he was about to say more but he was still trying to process how to put it into words. Movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention though, and somehow your focus finally shifted away from his and down towards it.

And then you screamed, jumping backwards and almost spilling your coffee when you registered what you’d seen. Michael instantly tensed, pushing off of the countertop and immediately making his way over towards you. He was anxiously looking out of his front window, his back to you as he came to a stop just in front of you.

“What?” he asked quickly, eyes still searching out of the window.

You shifted around him a bit, your finger pointing down at the kitchen island. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Michael’s brows furrowing as his gaze followed to where you were pointing. It took him a moment but when he saw what had startled you, you saw his shoulders visibly relax. He looked over his shoulder at you, a grin sliding across his lips. There was a glimmer of amusement lighting up his eyes and quickly replacing that hint of panic you’d picked up on.

“A spider?” he asked.

“Yes!” you said, taking another step back and cowering around your mug. “I fucking hate spiders!”

“It’s a little spider, Grace,” he said, amused. “It’s not goin’ to hurt ya.”

Peeking back around Michael, your eyes dropped down to where it was crawling towards you on the countertop. You cringed, taking another step back. Michael’s brows rose high onto his forehead as he turned fully towards you, his lips curling into an even wider grin as he took in your reaction.

“Okay, well either it goes or I go,” you told him. “So on that note–”

His amusement quickly vanished at your words before he abruptly cut you off.

“I’ll get rid of it,” he stated.

Gaze flying back up to him, you watched as he turned and searched around the counter beside the pair of you for a second. He grabbed an unopened envelope from a stack of mail sitting in the corner and turned back around. You had expected him to smash the insect with it, but instead you watched as he very gently placed the envelope down in front of the spider. Ever so carefully he coaxed it onto the piece of mail and then gingerly he lifted it from the countertop. You backed up almost entirely down the hallway towards the sitting room as he made his way out of the kitchen. He chuckled softly as he turned to the right, making his way to the front door. You watched in curiosity as he unlocked the door and stepped outside, crouching down and releasing the spider out there instead of simply just killing it on the counter. 

He stood back up before turning to face you where you were still cowering in his hallway. He was grinning just outside the front door at you, the amusement back on his face.

“Does that work for ya?” he asked, tone almost teasing.

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” you said awkwardly.

You could feel the heat once again rising to your cheeks this morning. How embarrassing, getting worked up over a spider in front of some Irish mobster. Though it was oddly telling about his character with how gently he dealt with it. And how he’d seemingly moved in front of you when you’d initially screamed, as if he’d maybe been trying to protect you from a threat outside, something vastly more serious than a spider. And that had you curious in more ways than one.

“Michael, what’re ya doin’ out here, dear?”

At the unmistakable sound of Birdy’s voice, you instantly tensed. Your hands tightened around your mug, your heart rate once again rising. You knew she was aware of something being off about you, especially because she’d apparently been watching you lately. Finding you here at Michael’s first thing in the morning having coffee was only going to raise further suspicion and interest about you.

“Was just gettin’ rid of a spider,” he said, glancing at Birdy who you assumed was just outside the door. “Grace is afraid of ‘em.”

“Oh,” Birdy said, her tone noticeably shifting. “I didn’t know ya already had company, Mikey dear. So ya have the lovely Grace here this mornin’?”

Michael shot you an apologetic look before Birdy appeared just inside the doorway. She was wearing another dress and heels, her hair in perfect curls and her face made up. She shot you a wide smile that only sent chills down your spine–it wasn’t exactly a friendly smile.

“I wasn’ tryin’ to intrude, but do ya mind if I stop in?” Birdy asked, her eyes shifting back and forth between you and Michael behind her.

You cleared your throat, taking a few steps towards the kitchen. “I can just go–”

“Nonsense, love,” Birdy said, her eyes dropping to your mug. “Ya haven’t even finished your coffee yet!” She waved a hand dismissively as she stepped inside, Michael following behind. “I don’t want to ruin your mornin’. Just stoppin’ by to see how Michael was doin’.”

“I uh, I’m grand,” Michael said, closing his front door.

Birdy hummed out a noise in response as she stepped into the kitchen, her eyes curiously landing on you. That wide smile was still on her face, her focus not even remotely on Michael as he stepped around behind you, one of his hands lightly brushing along your lower back as he tried to maneuver around the small space back to his mug.

“So ya don’t like spiders, dear?” Birdy asked.

“I’m certainly not a fan of them, no,” you answered her, a strained, polite smile on your lips.

Michael chuckled lightly. “Shoulda heard the scream,” he teased.

Birdy shrugged indifferently, her eyes never leaving you. “They’re not for everyone. Some o’ them give me a fright, too.” 

You brought your mug to your lips, trying to drink the coffee down faster without being too obvious. You wanted an excuse to leave now, your peaceful morning with Michael completely disturbed with her presence here. Her piercing stare was making you uncomfortable.

Birdy’s head tilted to the side as she continued to study you. “How d’ya feel ‘bout snakes then, Grace?” she asked curiously.

You froze, the mug just at your lips. For a moment it felt like you couldn’t breathe as her words hit you. Very slowly you lowered the cup from your mouth.

“What?” you asked.

“Snakes, love,” Birdy repeated. “Ya know, those slithery little serpents. Ya like those?”

On the opposite side of the kitchen island from her, Michael raised his mug to his lips. He seemed almost unphased by Birdy’s odd question, though his brows drew together at it while he drank down his coffee. You, on the other hand, were all too aware of her touching on something that was making you want to bolt out the front door just to your left. You were pretty sure she was onto something.

“No,” you responded, your voice sounding off even to your own ears as you spoke, “I–I’m not really a fan of those either.”

“Hmm,” Birdy hummed out, her blue eyes fixed on you. There was a long, awkward pause before she said, “Then I s’pose you won’t like the collection o’ snakes Michael’s brother has in his basement.”

Swallowing hard, you sent her a weak smile. “No,” you agreed, your voice still off, “I suppose I wouldn’t.”

Michael’s attention shifted towards you, his eyes narrowing a bit before they returned to Birdy. You could practically hear his mind beginning to work, picking up on the weird tension now palpable in his kitchen. You raised the mug to your mouth again, drinking down the hot coffee faster.

“You’re a writer, correct?” Birdy continued, that smile still on her lips. “I seem to recall your sister sayin’ that.”

“Yes,” you answered quickly.

“You’ve got some sort of series published, yes?” she pressed. “A whole load of books in it?”

“Mhmm,” you responded, your nerves increasing.

Birdy’s eyes narrowed, her attention dropping down to the countertop as one of her manicured nails tapped her chin. Michael was watching her curiously now, his coffee forgotten on the island.

“What was the series called again?” she mused aloud. Her eyes widened a second later before they darted over to you. “ The Road to Hell , yes?”

Fuck me.

Forcing another tight smile on your face, your cheeks aching at the gesture, you nodded once. “Yeah, that’s the one,” you said, voice tense.

“Ya know, I’ve heard of that series before. But I thought that was actually written by a…” her voice trailed off for a moment, that thoughtful look briefly returning to her face. A moment later she said it–your real name.

“It’s a pen name,” you explained simply.

“Odd ya pick your sister’s last name for a pen name,” Birdy replied slowly.

“Guess I was more creative with the actual story than the pen name,” you said, fighting to keep the edge out of your voice.

“Ahh, well,” she said, shrugging lightly. “Maybe I’ll have to pick up some copies, seein’ as the lovely author lives just down the street.”

Throughout the entire exchange between you and Birdy, you had noticed the way Michael remained silent, simply studying the pair of you. Just watching the back and forth with increasing interest. 

You needed to get out of here. Make an excuse and leave.

“You know, it’s actually great you brought that up,” you said, feigning like you’d just remembered something. “I forgot I actually have a conference call with my editor and my publishing company this morning. I should probably head back home and get ready for that.”

With shaky hands, you reached out and set your almost empty mug onto the countertop. Michael pushed off of the island instantly, his face falling a bit as he made his way towards you. 

“I can walk ya out,” he offered.

Behind him, Birdy popped her hip out and leant against the countertop. One of those cat-that-ate-the-canary smiles slipped onto her mouth as she eyed you.

“Was lovely chattin’ with ya, Grace,” she said. 

You shot her a tense smile, not trusting your words right now. In a hurry you turned and left the kitchen, grateful the front door was so close by. You could feel Michael just at your back as you slipped your feet into your shoes in a rush. Before you could reach a hand out to open the front door though, Michael was already maneuvering around you in the tight hallway and opening it for you. Your eyes met his yet again, some of your nerves momentarily dissipating when he smiled at you.

“I’ll uh, see ya later then?” he asked hopefully.

“I mean I–I do live next door,” you replied, aware Birdy was most likely eavesdropping from the kitchen. “So most likely.”

He nodded and you quickly turned, stepping outside and briskly walking down his drive and away from his house. You could practically feel Birdy’s inquisitive eyes on you from the kitchen window as you went. Rounding the tall stone fence in a hurry, you made your way straight to Megan’s front door. 

So Birdy had apparently been doing some research on you. And if that was the case, well then, you figured two could play that game.

“I’m sure I’m not the only one with secrets,” you muttered to yourself, unlocking Megan’s front door. “Guess it’s time to see what the Kinsellas’ are hiding.”