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meownotgood · 4 days ago

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arcane season 2 spoilers

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"Can you feel anything?"

Viktor's foreign body shudders against his will; your fingertips trace down his chest, tingling, sparking, akin to little specks of light burning into his second-skin. The sound of your muddled voice barely registers. His head tosses back with a slight thud, hair fanned out as a halo. He allows your knees to bracket his waist, and keeps his arms sprawled above him — despite the aching in his dead heart to just touch you. The pulsing of the arcane beneath his system is hardly under control yet.

It would be a risk he's willing to take, a necessary step to learn, if it were anyone else besides you.

And Viktor does feel — so much, in fact, but it isn't anything explainable. The festering in his core, threatening to come up through his throat. The whirring, the throbbing of every muscle, rich with glowing rivers of purple. Shining with a mixture of magic and energy and his own blood.

He's only distantly aware of your hand when it reaches his stomach, examining the juncture between cool metal and unholy flesh. Gears and bolts mimic the outline of ribs. Your touches are curious, distinctly gentle. Picking up on old habits, and trying not to break him, still. Then, your palm reaches up; it boldly cradles his cheek, brushes his pallid skin. And this, he can sense.

It's familiar, human. Excruciatingly soft when your thumb brushes the space on his cheek, just above his beauty mark. It puts an easy feeling back in his chest, something he almost began to believe he'd forgotten. As warm as a shimmering sun, as molten as liquid gold.

Nothing else matters but this moment, but you, and him. There is no outcome, across each expansive universe and every edge of the arcane, where the two of you would not meet again like this. You were meant to. Born and reborn to.

Your gaze finds his, soft eyes glancing down at him, your expression crossed between pain and relief. You eclipse all of his vision: light fuzzy at your edges, your face a hazy memory that he'd still see with his eyes closed. You're a reminder of what it means to be alive.

Viktor doesn't envy you. You've told him of nightmares, before. Dreams you had before this, of your mind putting yourself through the tragedy of watching him die ages before you truly had to. It must be difficult to see him like this, despite your best attempts to hide any uncertainty.

Your hand shakes. He can feel it trembling, unsteady on his cheek. And every molecule in Viktor's system explodes, laced with the yearning to remember — to let hazy lovesickness swell within his palms and his new figments. To pull you closer, in an effort to convince himself you won't be taken away.

Every echo of you is innate. Your voice, your name, your fingerprints. Your presence has the Hexcore — or what's become of him, what has embodied the Hexcore — blissfully, endlessly silent. The way you look at him, soft and brutally innocent, puts a chasmic, vivid hole in his center. Gods, you still look at him the same, just as you did when the two of you were young and innocent. The rot in him tells him he isn't worthy of it.

Viktor's eyes swirl like kaleidoscopes. Drops of crimson swirling in pure water. Your brows pinch, a sight he finds frustrating and pretty, as you silently examine him. Emotions curl in your lungs, tearing and hungry and knife-like; stricken with attachment, or perhaps blaming yourself, Viktor figures.

Exhaustion runs heavy in your expression, reminding him of looking into a mirror. He knows this look. You haven't slept. Haven't given yourself any form of a break, it seems.

So, he takes a chance.

Your hand brushes some stray, messy strands of hair from his forehead, just as Viktor guides his weak arm to reach for you. You don't tense, don't move. He can hear your breathing, thinks he can still feel his. There isn't an ounce of fear in the way you look at him. You have always looked at him like he holds the world in his hands. And now, perhaps he does.

His hand finds your cheek, same as yours. Copying, following. Thin, delicate, purple-hued fingers trace the edge of your face clumsily, still learning how to touch. Still afraid the line between hurt and healing might be blurred, and you are the one person left that he can't let get caught in the crossfire. You lean into his palm, trusting, and let go of a breath that makes your shoulders shake with the weight of it.

Viktor thinks of crying, despite the press and pull in his chest that convinces him he shouldn't be able to. He can feel you. It isn't like the few touches he's experienced so far, or the aching, anomalous strength he's been forced to get used to. It contradicts the very constructs of everything he thought made sense.

Your skin is so soft, sickly familiar. Viktor holds your face shakily, afraid to move. He can feel your individual atoms. Innumerable sparks just beneath his touch, galaxies upon universes of stars in your name, that beg to be grasped, possessed, cured. He cradles you with all of the devotion of a prophet, with all of the tenderness of a past friend: an almost-destiny, a saved seat at the edge of something more.

Would clumsily pulling you in, and pressing his lips to yours feel wrong, or tangible — like nothing, or like everything?

"Vik?"

Your tone, sweeter than honeysuckle, sweeter than anything he might deserve, brings his vision back into focus. He blinks. Gaze never tearing away from his, your fingertips drop to thread the hard edge of his collarbone. A silent plea, can you feel this? You find each curve of his bones and his body easily, the details already memorized. Viktor senses the ghost of you, your touch gentle, something like home.

"I'm not sure," Viktor finally answers; and the scientist, Hexgate creator, still-ambitious part of himself is hardly satisfied with that answer. His voice is quiet, distant. As though he isn't there, despite the lingering, familiar tenderness to his tone.

The fried synapses in his brain can't yet separate a caress from a threat, he just perceives the lingering energy. He believes you could be the one to teach him the difference.

This time, you let your palm press flat to his chest. There's a hum that attempts to mimic a heartbeat, a lack of coolness or heat. The action presses your form closer to his, guides you to lean part of your weight on him to bring your faces far too close. Sharing in the same reflection. Allowing each breath to be measured, along with every hesitation.

What should he start with? Should he embrace you, holding you tight and close like you're sacrificial? Should he grab your hand in his, press his palm to your skin to measure your heartbeat? Lace his smallest finger with yours, to make you a promise like he used to?

He can't promise you peace, nor the life you deserve, but if you came for him now, was it not a swear to follow him anywhere?

There are still so many things left to feel, and every red thread has always begun and ended with you.

Can you feel anything?

Viktor guides a hand over yours, keeps it to his chest selfishly; he meets your gaze, he hums, "Are you eager to find out?"

#assorted thoughts about purple viktor because I have the strong urge to put my hands all over him #can you tell im distracting myself from the horrors #viktor x reader #viktor x you #arcane x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor arcane

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celestial-grls · 3 months ago

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Party 4 You - Paige Bueckers x fem!reader

summary: you decide to go out with the women's basketball team and a certain member has always confused you - before now word count: 2.9k a/n: fav concept ever is #partypaige...title inspired by the best Charli XCX song ever. please leave comments / reblog if you liked this ok mwah <33

"It's my job that you come out with us tonight." A very out-of-breath KK Arnold informed you on the phone about her new job.

"KK, did you just finish practice? Why are you out of breath?" You'd started an internship about two weeks ago, and when you agreed to take it, no one warned you that interning meant piling on a ton of work that no one else wanted to do. It'd felt awful to be holed up inside, spending nights hunched over a computer when everyone else was only getting their summer started.

"Was just playing pick up with Paige and Ice," KK sighed, "So, did you make up your mind yet?"

"Ugh, I don't know. There's a ton of stuff missing in some of these documents they want me to edit. I still haven't even thought about what I'd wear if I did go out tonight—" You rambled on, pacing around your desk before KK interrupted.

"I already know you got something in that never-ending closet of yours. Does that mean you'll come out tonight?" An air of hope in KK's voice made you pause to consider it.

You mindlessly wandered all the way to your closet while you were on the phone with KK. Maybe it was a sign that your brand-new skirt was hanging on the door handle, begging to be taken out for a spin. You told KK, "Okay, I'll be there. But please, promise we will keep it contained, nothing crazy?"

KK let out a scream that made you rip the phone away from your ear before she started laughing and said, "Come by later to pregame! Bye, Pookie!"

You laughed at her excitement, "Bye, KK!"

The going-out section of your closet only served as a reminder of how crazy going out with some women's basketball team members can get. Between their boundless energy, how they seem to know everyone (including bartenders), and how they attract a crowd everywhere they go, there is no telling where the night can go once you join them.

You met KK when you partnered up in your communications class and immediately found her hilarious. Plus, it didn't hurt that she always got you better seats than the student section during basketball games. You knew that going out tonight meant you were going to see Paige, so it was crucial to keep yourself in check.

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Paige and Ice took a water break while KK finished her phone call with you.

"So Y/N's coming tonight?" Paige asked in confirmation.

KK teased, "Why? So you can stare at her from a corner all night?"

Ice added, "No, for real. Poor girl probably thinks you hate her."

Paige interjects, "Alright, alright. We've talked to each other before. Y'all just don't wanna remember it."

KK scoffs, "Girl, boo. Asking what her major is doesn't count. Especially because I already told you what it was before."

They all gathered their things while Paige advocated for herself, "Y'all really have no faith in me, huh? Trust, it'll be a different story when I come by later."

KK and Ice mumbled a combination of 'Yeah, sure' and 'Uh huh' before heading toward their building while Paige walked alone to hers. The truth was that she was a nervous wreck around you and always has been ever since KK and you became friends.

It was one of those things that no one but Paige understood. She was her confident, relaxed self around her friends, in a stadium full of fans, even at events she would've never believed she'd find herself in. She got it in her head that maybe you didn't like her very much. Not because you were standoffish, you were actually the opposite. Paige never felt that you liked her enough to be around her alone. They were always in groups with their respective friends.

At first, none of her friends caught on to her little crush; she tried to keep it discreet. It was going well until you came over to watch movies and see them fight over the Xbox controller in a pair of striped sleep shorts and a UConn hoodie, and she officially became a goner. Sitting four feet away from you while you looked like that and periodically pushing your glasses up made her sweat from her palms and make her think up an excuse for leaving movie night early.

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Ice's apartment was filled with chatter, and Paige's pregame playlist came from the speakers. Everyone's shot glasses were haphazardly crowded on the table while some girls mixed drinks.

You adjusted the bottle of Tito's in the crook of your arm before knocking on the door. When Ice answered the door, you could already tell you needed to catch up with everyone. She immediately wrapped you up in a hug and excitedly screamed, "We missed you, Pookie! And you came prepared."

"I always do," You told her as she took the vodka from you so that you could adequately say hi to everyone.

It was a natural relief to finally have a night out with friends, and any thoughts about work or deadlines didn't even cross my mind when I got to Ice's.

KK must've been just as relieved to see you because she said, "Y/N, finally, someone who can make a mixed drink. I can't drink any of Paige's mid-ass drinks anymore."

Paige looked offended and told her, "Call them mid, but they get it done."

It's not like you received any formal mixologist training or bartending experience, but making drinks became your specialty whenever you went out. You got straight to work making KK her favorite drink and handing it to her.

KK graciously sipped it and said it tasted "Perfect, as always."

You turned around to see Paige standing empty-handed and decided to ask, "Want me to make you something?"

Your pretenses were completely innocent, but how you softly smiled and batted your eyelashes made Paige's heart jump. Plus, she'd only heard five-star reviews about your drinks, so she couldn't refuse anyway. Once she gave you the okay, she was gearing up to ask you where you learned to make drinks like that until KK interjected, already half her drink downed.

"Don't worry, Y/N. She's not picky."

You were done with the drink and ran to the fridge, your little heels clacking on the wooden floor, to grab the jar of maraschino cherries. When you topped off Paige's drink and handed it to her, you shrugged, "I have a feeling she'll like it."

There it was again—your self-assuredness and complete ease in any situation made Paige feel weak and wobbly around you. The shiny red cherry on top, matching the shiny coat of lip gloss you were sporting, didn't make it any easier for her.

She usually hates anything that tastes like alcohol, so whatever you made her was incredible. "This is fire. What is it?"

"A dirty Shirley. You like?" You stood looking up at her, hoping the drink could be a peace offering or a way to make Paige like you a little more. You never knew why she seemed more reserved or conscious around you, but you knew it always drove you crazy.

"These are dangerous." Paige concluded with approval, and KK said, "Told you."

After everyone was tipsy enough and you caught up with what some girls had been up to in the last couple of weeks, it was time to get into the Uber to start your night. Time collapsed into a whizz of final lip touch-ups, shuffling clumsy bodies into one car and waiting in anticipation to let loose.

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There was a corner of the bar with a karaoke machine that KK and Paige excitedly ran over to like it was a toy. Everyone downed the shots you bought and got ready to hear their performance. They did their best rendition of 'Kiss Me More' and sounded nothing like SZA or Doja Cat, but since everyone was tipsy, they danced anyway. Paige and KK looked right at home, singing with their arms wrapped around each other and sassily dancing whenever they caught Ice or Azzi filming them.

When they finished, your little group applauded their effort, and Paige unexpectedly took her place next to you and Azzi. She looked a little smug, sipping the drink in her cup with her other hand resting in her pocket.

Azzi piped up, "Tone deaf and singing Doja Cat is crazy."

Paige scoffed, "Alright, Azzi, I don't remember asking." Azzi and Ice got up to sing next, and Paige shifted closer to you.

Emboldened by the drinks, she nods at you and says, "I like this skirt on you."

You feel it in your face first, flushing from having her eyes on you. You played it cool and told her, "Thank you, the skirt likes you, too." As you said it, you didn't exactly know what it meant, but it made sense in your drunk brain.

She laughs and nervously twists the bracelet on her wrist. "So what'd you think of my singing?"

You pretend to think about it, "You ball better than you sing."

Azzi and Ice are making an Usher song into a duo. You sip on your drink while taking a video of them that they'll definitely be humiliated by tomorrow.

Paige looks at you and asks, "Oh, so you've noticed?"

You don't know where this confidence came from. Usually, Paige avoids you whenever you're out. You figure it's because she's been drinking and having fun after an intense season. You're suspicious of it, but you like this version of her. "You know I come to games."

"Haven't seen you in a minute, though. You been busy?"

You repeat what she said right back to her, "Oh, so you've noticed?"

Paige laughs, touching your arm and lingering near your elbow. "I'm being for real. What you been up to?"

Her touch makes you feel dizzy, going straight to your distracted brain while you try to find an answer for her. "Got an internship, and they're already overworking me." Before Paige can respond, you shift closer to her to ask, "Can I ask you something, Paige?"

She steadies her eyes on you and says, "Sure, what's on your mind?"

You start, "I don't know…Normally, you don't talk to me much." You kept it lighthearted, teasingly asking, "Am I that scary?"

Paige looks down at her sneakers, "Nah, not too scary." She added, "M'glad you came, though."

You looked up at her as she wet her lips and said, "I'm glad I came, too."

When Ice and Azzi finished singing, they were exhausted from exerting so much effort. You rounded everyone up and announced, "Everyone's gotta do a shot, I'm buying!"

After another round of green tea shots, all hopes for a contained and calm night went out the window. Some girls broke off into different groups inside the bar as they ran into different acquaintances and friends. There was even more karaoke, only getting slightly sloppier and more tone-deaf with time. Sometime between you dancing behind the DJ table and your third drink, your exchange with Paige from earlier caught up to you.

You couldn't even precisely identify what you were feeling at the moment. You thought Paige was indifferent toward you, or at least not keen on getting to know you beyond being KK's friend. But when you remembered the feeling of her fingers grazing your arm, you felt confused by it. Suddenly, an emotional wobbliness started to creep up on you, and your next instinct was telling you to duck outside for a minute. You handed your drink to Azzi and told her you needed some air and would be right back.

It was cool enough outside to wrap your arms around yourself comfortably as you stood with your back against the wall. When you leaned your head back to close your eyes and take a breath, you tried to collect your thoughts. It was bouncing around a few things: deciding what to doordash later when you got home, mentally writing a small to-do list of internship work, and Paige.

You thought about how her hands looked around the drink you made her at the pregame, her long legs in a pair of cargos you liked on her, how she sounded so sincere when she told you she was glad you came. It was a lot, and your brain would overheat if you didn't duck out when you did. You were so startled when all you heard was, "Hey," coming from somewhere on your left.

It was just Paige, who currently had her hands on your shoulders after you almost jumped out of your skin at someone coming up to you. She apologized profusely before she said, "Wanted to see if you were good."

Your eyes soften at this. You forget that you were concentrating so hard on your shoes that you were about to burn a hole in them. It was replaced by Paige's presence, comforted automatically by her taller frame blocking out the view of the street at night.

You straightened up, adjusting the purse she was touching on your shoulder, and evening your voice enough to say, "I'm good; I just needed a second."

Paige looked down and nodded, "Good, good. DJ booth looked empty without you dancing."

You shook your head and laughed, "Been a minute since I could dance until my feet hurt."

"You think you'll feel it tomorrow?" With how Paige looked at you, you thought she was much more sober than you probably were.

You shrug, eyes feeling heavy as you lean into the wall, "Think we all will."

Right as you say that, all the rest of your friends start shuffling out. They were clearly tired. You remember they all decided to play an entire pick-up game earlier and announced they were ready to call it a night. No one disagreed. All of you had fun, but it was time for the drunk food and pajamas part of the night.

Paige urgently needed to spend more time with you. One of those game-time decisions seemed to come out of nowhere when she said, "Y/N and I should take a separate one since our buildings are close together and everything."

Thankfully, all your friends were gone enough to not question it and felt safe in knowing it was best everyone went home in a group instead of alone this late. It sounded sensical to you, even though you hadn't remembered that you and Paige lived in neighboring apartment buildings. But then again, you haven't been anywhere but work or home, which felt like forever, so maybe you hadn't noticed.

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Something about being in this car in the backseat with Paige felt right. She spread out in the back while you crossed your leg, shifting your weight so the tip of your shoe would brush against her leg whenever the car stopped.

It was a short ride from the last bar your friends hit to your apartment building. There were hardly any red lights, but you wished for at least one or two more.

You turned to question Paige, "I didn't know you lived close to my building."

She pressed her lips together, "KK didn't mention it?"

You shook your head, more wide-eyed now that you sobered up.

Paige added, "I got a bigger place after the last semester ended."

You nodded and teased, "Okay, big baller, I see you."

Paige snickered and thanked the driver while you guys got out. She walked you into your building and even rode the elevator with you. When you asked what she had planned for the night, she mentioned some Advil and a big glass of water. When she asked you the same question, you told her about door-dashing some Taco Bell and taking your makeup off.

She felt like you guys made it to your door too soon. You each stopped before it as you fished for your keys inside your purse. When you turned to tell her, "Thanks for walking with me. Text me when you get to your building."

Paige got that look again as if she was about to say something to you, the same one she made when you plopped the maraschino cherry into her pregame drink. She scratched the back of her neck, "S'no problem. And I will."

You said, "Night, Paige." as you leaned against the door frame and kicked your heels off into a corner, shrinking in height and making Paige even taller than you for a moment.

She paused to tell you, "Night, Y/N."

When you changed into your pajamas and got your cotton pads out to remove your makeup, your phone chimed with a text from Paige that read: Home. Remember to take that makeup off

You loved the message and wrote back: Doing it right now. Drink a glass of water for me!

You knew Paige had to go through group chats with all the girls in it to select your contact and text you personally since you guys had never texted each other before. It felt like too much to process in your state, and you thought it best to deal with it tomorrow. When you went to hang up your skirt, you ran your fingers over the fabric and silently thanked it for whatever magic it might've done for you tonight.

#my writing #yall i need to make a masterlist but ive never done it before #bc i've written a few things at this point i feel like its time to make a masterlist ...lmk #please rb or comment if you liked this it would mean sm to me #paige bueckers #paige x reader #paige bueckers x y/n #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #uconn x reader #uconn lives #rpf #womens basketball #uconn #wnba x reader #wnba basketball #wbb

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midnightsnyx · 7 months ago

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girl at home | mat barzal | part 9

pairing: mat barzal x fem!reader

warnings: angst, mentions of pregnancy, not edited word count: 2.1k authors note: i am back with a little less brain!! (literally) it took me a bit to start writing again cause I had some slowness on my right side so I wasn't quite up to writing. BUT i hope you guys like p9 and thank you so much for the continuous love on this story <3 the first bit is marlee's POV and after the * it's back to readers pov. hope u all like & pls lmk what you think <3

masterlist masterpost ask box

MARLEE

Marlee Jones loved her job. It was something she took pride in; helping bring new lives into the world and being there for all the mamas. Of course there were always the hard days, the days that made her hug Stella a little tighter when she got home from a shift. Her job had its ups and downs, but at the end of the day, she wouldn’t want to do anything else.

So, her panic is warranted when she comes across a certain patient file. She wasn’t looking for it, but when her eyes caught the name and there weren’t any other people nearby, she couldn’t help herself. It’s against HIPAA, and if anybody found out, she would be fired without question but she slipped the file in between a couple others and walked to a random supply closet. She closed and locked the door behind her before pulling the file out and opening it. Her eyes quickly scanned the pages, the words Hysterical Pregnancy making her heart race. She had to double check the name on the file twice, before believing it.

She knew that someone would notice the missing file, so she quickly found a printer and copied the pages, tucking them in her tote bag and putting the file exactly where it was.

Nobody would know.

Your first instinct is to calm Marlee down. Her panicking is making you panic and at least one of you needs to keep a straight head. You’re trying to let her words sink in without letting your mind go down a rabbit hole. You need to see all the facts before letting yourself do that.

“Marlee,” you reach out to grab her shaking hands. “What happened?”

She looks up at you and takes a deep breath. “I can’t- I can’t tell you the details but she’s not pregnant. She lied, and it’s already caused so much damage between you, and Mat and Liana… and Nora.” She pulls her hands away from yours and buries her face in them.

You decide not to remind her that Mat already fucked things up before Calista dropped the baby bomb on him because she knows that. Focus on one disaster at a time.

Calista lied about being pregnant. Mat doesn’t know this, and even if you try to tell him, you have no idea how he’ll react. Really, it’s none of your business and you can very well go on with your life because Mat has let you know loud and clear what his feelings are. He wants Calista in his life despite you not wanting her in Nora’s life. He technically has no rights, no say in what happens but when he first found out about her and asked to be in her life, you’d so desperately wanted to let him.

“How long can she pull off this lie until he finds out the truth?” you ask quietly and she lifts her head from her hands.

“Depends,” she mumbles.

“On what?”

“How deep she has him pulled into her fantasy.”

. . .

You let Nora spend a little more time with Stella, mainly wanting her to burn as much energy from the sugar high she’s on from the ice-cream. She’s sleepy when you buckle her in her carseat and you’re pretty sure she’s asleep but she mumbles something and you look to see her looking at you with droopy eyes.

“What was that?” you ask softly.

She looks down, avoiding eye contact with you which is worrisome.

“Do you think Mat would want to see me?” she whispers. “Without her?”

She obviously doesn’t need to clarify who she's referring to and it breaks your heart that a six-year-old has to worry about things like this.

“I can ask,” you tell her, unsure why she wants to see him suddenly. “You don’t have to go see Mat if you don’t want to, baby.”

By now, you’re pulling into your driveway so you can turn the jeep off and turn to give her your full attention. She still won’t look at you so you reach out and tap on her leg until she looks up.

“I want to,” she says but doesn’t elaborate so you don’t push.

“Okay, I’ll call him tomorrow.”

She just nods and starts to unbuckle her seatbelt so you get out and help her. She doesn’t complain when you carry her inside, helping her change into pajamas and brush her teeth. When she asks if she can watch a movie before bed, you don’t have the heart to deny her, even though it’s close to her bedtime so you set her up on the couch and put her favorite movie on. She’ll be out like a light in less than twenty minutes so while you’re waiting, you grab your phone and pull up Mat’s contact. Your finger hovers over the call option but you’re not sure you want to talk to him over the phone so you go into your text messages instead. The last messages between the two of you were when you last met up and even then they were short and to the point which makes this text easily simple.

To Mat: Nora wants to see you.

You lay your phone on the counter and get a glass of water while waiting for his response. You’re unnecessarily nervous, mainly because you are expecting him to start an argument the moment you tell him that Nora doesn’t want Calista to be there. You don’t even feel comfortable letting Mat see her because of what he said, but you can’t turn her request down. Not when she was so adamant about not wanting to see him, and out of the blue deciding that she does.

When you check on Nora while waiting for a response, she’s asleep so you pick her up and carry her to bed. You spend a minute just watching her after you’ve tucked her in. You’re desperate to see what’s going on in that little head of hers.

Just as you walk back to the kitchen, your phone buzzes and you freeze. Maybe messaging Mat tonight was a bad idea, and you should’ve just waited until tomorrow. It’s too late now though so you walk over and look to see Mat’s name and an unread message.

From Mat: ok

From Mat: when?

It bothers you, how nonchalant he’s acting after everything that’s happened. This is about Nora though, so you take a breath and try to decide on a date.

To Mat: Sunday?

From Mat: ok

You want to scream at him and take back the offer but remind yourself again that Nora explicitly asked to see him and it’s her decision to make.

So, you set up a place and time and tell him that she doesn’t want to see Calista. You expect him to argue, but he responds with another simple ok, and that’s that.

. . .

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Marlee asks, crossing her arms and glaring at Mat who’s sitting on a bench at the park you agreed to meet at. The two of you are standing outside her jeep, stalling a little before going over there.

Nora asked if Stella could come to the park too and Marlee was pulling out of her driveway before you could finish asking. You’re a little worried that she’s going to yell at Mat, but you figure with the kids there, she will contain herself unless he says something out of line.

“Nora asked to see him,” you remind her but she just grumbles something under her breath.

You’re ready to get this over with so you open the door and let Nora and Stella climb out of the jeep. Normally, they would race to the playground but Nora is hesitating, glancing over to where Mat is. He hasn’t noticed that you’re here yet which is good, because you are about five seconds away from just putting the kids back in and driving away.

Nora sighs quietly before walking over to Mat. You and Marlee hang back a little but Stella grabs her hand and sticks close to her.

When Mat sees her, his face lights up and for a second, you want to forgive him so everything can go back to how it was before. You can’t though, not when what he said is still so fresh and not when you know about Calista’s lies.

“Hey peanut,” he says softly, staying seated while Nora stands in front of him, looking down and scuffing her shoe on the gravel. He looks at you when she doesn’t say anything but you just shrug even though you’re confused. You’re about to ask Nora if she wants to just go to the playground when she breaks her silence.

“Are you not my daddy?” she asks quietly and it takes you off guard. You had this conversation with her, assuring her that Calista was lying but she must want to hear it from Mat.

“What?” he asks, looking at you before turning his attention back to her.

“Calista told me that you’re not my daddy,” she says more firmly, finally looking up at him. Her arms are crossed and she’s glaring at him. You’d be impressed if you weren’t so worried about what Mat may say.

His mouth opens and closes a couple times and he looks like a fish out of water. He looks at you again, as if he’s expecting you to step in but you just raise an eyebrow at him as if to say I told you so.

“I think she was confused-” he begins to say which is absolutely the wrong thing to say because it sets Nora off.

She stomps her foot and her glare hardens. “No! She said that mommy lied and that you’re not really my daddy. She told me that I don’t have a daddy.”

Before he can say anything, she’s storming off toward the playground, Stella chasing after her.

“Do I need to say I told you so?” you ask sharply, now that the kids are out of hearing range.

“You just did,” he mumbles and Marlee, who has been quiet up until now, steps towards Mat.

“You’re a piece of work,” she snaps and Mat looks at her confused.

“Excuse me?”

“Do I need to repeat myself?” she says, and you’re more than happy to let her say what’s on her mind.

“You’re letting your girlfriend tell your daughter that you’re not her father, and instead of comforting Nora, you’re trying to defend your girlfriend!”

For a moment, you’re scared Marlee is going to get angry enough that she’ll tell him the truth about Calista, but she takes a deep breath and turns away to go to where the girls are playing. You watch her walk over until she reaches them before turning back to Mat.

He’s staring at the ground and you don’t know why you’re still standing here but you guess you’re just waiting for Mat to say something.

“I fucked up,” he eventually mumbles and you scoff.

“When did you come to that brilliant conclusion?”

There’s the tiniest part of you that wants to bring up Calista, just to see if he’ll tell you anything but you’re not sure you’re in the mood to hear about her. Not when you know the truth.

“Liana is mad at me,” he tells you, which is news, because you thought she was just angry at you.

“I can’t imagine why.”

You look back at Nora, smiling when you see her laughing. She looks more like herself, rather than the gloomy kid she’s been the past couple days since she asked to see Mat. Like she got what was bothering her off her tiny shoulders.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Mat doing the same but his smile isn’t as real. If you weren’t still angry at him, you’d feel bad but you can’t let go of what he said and the fact that he tried again to defend Calista.

“She’s a good kid,” he says softly and you hum in agreement.

“Did you know?” he asks, “that she was going to say that?”

“No,” you tell him. It’s not a lie - she didn’t tell you why she wanted to see Mat, and you didn’t want to push.

“I’m sorry,” he says, but you shake your head and look directly at him.

“Sorry isn’t going to fix it this time. Marlee was right, instead of apologizing to Nora, who deserves to hear that more than me, you won’t stop making excuses for Calista,” you tell him. “I don’t know what you’re expecting from Nora and I, but sorry isn’t the answer.”

He frowns, but nods, seemingly accepting your response. You leave it at that and walk over to where Nora, Stella, and Marlee are, grinning when your daughter reaches for you. She hugs you when you pick her up and when you look back at the bench Mat was sitting at, he’s already gone.

tag list: @literatureluster @dasiysthings @barzyblogbabe @diary-of-jj @heatherawoowoo @fallinallincurls @lovinbarzal @whatthepuckisgoingon @teapartydreams @alilstressyandlotdepressy @keiva1000 @hischiershoe @bellstwd @alwaysclassyeagle @brrbrina @nonsensical-nonsence

@love-like-woaah @cycy9 @swift-sos

if you want to be added or taken off the tag list please let me know! & if you asked to be tagged and I didn't it's cause your @ didn't come up when i searched

#allies writing #hockey imagines #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #mat barzal fanfiction

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nebulousbrainsoup · 1 year ago

Note

I’ve had this thought in my mind for a while and even at work I just couldn’t get it out of my head so I was wondering if you can write a Hongjoong smut and include the reader leaving kisses (maybe some hickeys) on Hongjoong’s “NO1LIKEME” tattoo, and that just making joong go ballistic and messing up the reader (in a good way ofc)☺️🫶

ohhhhh nonnie. yes, yes, 1000x yes you absolutely can. as someone who loves having their tattoos traced and such, you have my heart for this request. i'm smooching you on the forehead (with ur consent). i'm so very sorry this took so long my dear, but i hope you enjoy!

Mine

PAIRING: boyfriend!hongjoong x fem bodied!reader (no pronouns used) GENRE: smut, fluff TAGS/WARNINGS: established relationship, hongjoong's tattoo, no use of y/n, quick edit, the rest are under the cut~ WORD COUNT: 2.5k of mostly filth!

nsfw tags under the cut ; masterlist | join my taglist | buy me a coffee?

this work is 18+. this is a friendly reminder that if i catch a minor interacting with this work, they will be blocked. so don't :)

divs from @cafekitsune

NSFW TAGS/WARNINGS: pwp, pet names (love, dollface, little dove, angel), hickeys, thigh riding, edging, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex (boo 👎), possessive!joong strikes again, creampie; lmk if i missed any

It had begun innocently enough. You were laid out across the couch with your head in Hongjoong’s lap, the most recent episode of what you two had deemed your show playing on the TV. He was enthralled, eyes glued to the screen, stomach twitching with his gasps and fist clenching the cushions every time something big happened. Your gaze, however, had been locked onto the black calligraphy etched into his skin, “NO1LIKEME” on display for anyone who dared think otherwise. The seasons were changing, the weather just this past month turning warm enough to force your boyfriend out of his sweaters and hoodies and, just as you had every year since he got it, you found yourself obsessing over his tattoo.

Thoughtlessly, you reached up, your fingers barely coming in contact with the ink before he jumped slightly, and you jerked your hand back. “S-Sorry.” You huffed a laugh, turning back to the TV to hide your visible embarrassment.

To your surprise, he let out a quiet giggle, and you glanced back up to find a curious half-smile on his face. “It’s okay," he reassured, “I just wasn’t expecting it.” You nodded slightly dismissively, lost in your own little world of mortification. Of all the things for him to catch you ogling, it was his tattoo. How weird did he think you were, now?

Before you could delve too far down that particular shame-filled rabbit hole, a weight settled on your stomach, yanking you out of your spiral. Hongjoong’s hand had dropped from the couch, and when you tossed a confused look in his direction, you were met with a warm, reassuring smile. “Now you don’t have to reach up as far,” he muttered, giving your hip a squeeze before turning back to your show. The heat that had risen to your cheeks amplified as you blinked up at him in mild shock.

When you reached up again, you caught his eyes flickering your way, and you could have sworn his arm shifted toward you, but he didn’t pull away this time. Gingerly, your fingers brushed over the line of text, one after the other, up and back down his inner arm. You felt his muscles twitch under the attention, his fingers tapping out the energy you were filling him with as you set his nerves alight. You smiled softly, sneaking one more glance to his face before all your focus shifted entirely back to the characters curling up over his bicep, touch remaining feather-light as you resolved to trace each one. The little jolts that shook his arm only grew in intensity as you continued your ministrations, entranced by every curve and line, lips parted in awe.

The first quiet, nearly imperceptible change in his breathing was the little gasp left him when you were halfway through, your fingertip dancing over the loops dotting the ‘I.’ He shifted under you and you snuck a glance up to his face again and, finding his eyes still glued to the TV screen, you let your fingers continue their journey. The second came shortly thereafter, a ragged sigh leaving him when your touch left his skin just long enough to shift from the first ‘E’ to the ‘M,’ and this time he shifted with it, sitting up straighter and forcing your head closer to his knees. When you glanced up, you caught his gaze flickering away, eyelids hooded and plush lips parted as he turned back to the screen.

You bit back the sly grin that threatened to break over your face, taking your time drawing over the last two letters before letting your hand fall back to your side. He let out another shaky breath, glancing down to flash you a slight smile. “Have fun?” You nodded, and his warm smile spread. “Good. It’s there any time you want it.”

His hand left your hip to reach for the couch cushions again, but before he could stray too far, you caught his wrist and flashed him a playful glare.

“I wasn’t done,” you huffed, earning a quiet giggle from him.

“Okay, okay, go ahead.”

You grinned, shifting to sit up and watching with glee as his face shifted to confusion. You’d settled cross-legged, your back turned to the TV as you draped his arm over the back of the couch, returning it to its original position. Hongjoong had turned his attention from the show to you, following your movements with a confused, crooked smile. You flashed him an impish grin, trailing your fingers up and down his skin once more, delighting in the way his gaze darkened and he sighed. Barely managing to tear your eyes away from his face, you zeroed in on your next point of focus while your thumb swirled around it—the face doodled into the ‘O.’

Before he could protest, your head darted down, lips pressing against it. You felt him jerk underneath you, the couch cushions shifting beside you as he moved closer. Grinning against his skin, you let yourself wander, pressing increasingly open-mouthed kisses over the tattoo. You could feel him inching closer, each one making his arm twitch underneath you and pulling a quiet noise from him. Your eyes slipped shut as you drank them in, as you drank him in, your kisses lingering and your teeth beginning to graze his skin lightly. He hissed quietly with the first pinch, and you giggled to yourself, soothing the pain with your tongue.

The feeling of his free arm wrapping around your waist made you jump, turning to find his face mere centimeters from your own with a dangerous fire sparking to life in his eyes.

“What do you think you’re doing, love?”

You met him with that same impish grin he always wanted to wipe off of your face. “Having fun.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes with an amused smile, and if you hadn’t already decided on your next course of action, you would have right then and there. Flashing him a glare and a disgruntled frown, you leaned back down to his arm, sinking your teeth into the bare skin below the crossbar of the ‘K.’ Hongjoong jolted under you, his muscles tensing and a choked off groan falling from his lips as you sucked and bit at it, your tongue following closely behind to lessen the sting. When you sat back on your heels again, the pretty pink spot left behind had you beaming with pride, and you darted down to press another kiss over it.

Before you could give anywhere else the same treatment, his grip on the cushions released and his hand snapped up, quickly fisting into the hair at your nape to pull you into a bruising kiss. Your noise of surprise was muffled by his lips and you melted into him, hands planting themselves firmly on his shoulders. His free arm wrapped its way around your waist and he tugged at you, guiding you to straddle his thigh. You were both breathless when he pulledyou back, lips red and swollen and eyes already glazing over.

“You really like my tattoo, huh?” he breathed, letting his right arm fall back against the couch. Immediately, your eyes zeroed back in on the ink, and you nodded. “Give it some more attention, then, dollface. Show me how much you love it.”

The grin fixed on his face made your stomach flip, a pleasant mixture of anticipation and arousal lighting through you. Biting your lip, you nodded, attention turning back to the text curling up his bicep. After pressing a kiss to the mark you had already left, you quickly shifted to dot the ‘I’ with a mark of your own making, sucking and lapping at Hongjoong’s skin. The quiet sighs he let out were music to your ears, and you spared a glance toward him, catching his gaze as you found it fixed solidly on you. The corner of his mouth ticked back into that signature smirk of his and you felt his thigh twitch under you, your breath catching in your throat. You paused your work, pulling back with a satisfying pop to face him better.

His smirk dropped, one eyebrow raising, and he relaxed again. “Done already?”

Heat and nerves coiled in your gut as he stared you down and you floundered for a response, shaking your head silently. Hongjoong always had a way of making you feel small with only a single look, like a mouse caught between a cat’s claws. Slowly, he let his eyes trail back to his tattoo, then back to your face. With a shaky sigh as your mind went a little hazy and lust-clouded, you returned your lips to his skin, resolving to trace every inch of the ink with your tongue. It only took seconds this time for his thigh to flex under you again, and you whined, grinding down against him. His quiet little giggle graced your ears and his free hand settled on your hip, encouraging you to continue your movements. With a soft whine, you complied, hips rolling against him.

It was only a few short minutes before your arousal had you abandoning your work halfway through, moving instead to press open-mouthed kisses over his skin, nipping at it every so often. You could hear his breathing becoming increasingly ragged as you too became more desperate, the soft whimpers and sighs you let out becoming more frequent as he toyed with you. They were music to his ears and, when coupled with the feeling of your lips worshiping his skin and the sight of you rutting against him, he could feel his own arousal quickly becoming unbearable. A particularly hard bite had him groaning openly and his thigh pressing harder against your aching cunt as his hips sought friction. You released him, throwing your head back with a moan, and he took the opportunity to grab a fistful of your hair again.

In a matter of seconds, Hongjoong had you face down against the couch, his fingers curling under the waistband of both your lounge shorts and your underwear. With one swift tug, you were left exposed to both the cold air and his hungry gaze. He let out a pleased sigh, one finger coming up to trace lightly between your folds, and a quiet giggle left him as he pulled it back, taking in the slick already coating it.

“Needy for me already,” he purred, and you nodded into the cushions, letting one of your legs fall from the side of the couch to spread yourself further for him.

Leaning down, he lapped a fat stripe over you, earning a choked, breathy moan. Humming happily, he quickly dropped back down to your clit, lips quickly closing around the sensitive bud. You cried out as he sucked harshly on it, hands stretching out in front of you in search of anything more substantial to grab onto. He quickly shifted up, and you sighed in relief, eyes slipping shut as he began to work you open on his tongue—not that you needed the prep. You would never complain about the magic your boyfriend worked with his tongue, though, your hips rocking back eagerly against his face as you let out little whimpers and sighs.

When he pulled away with one last lingering suck to your clit, you let out a keen he wanted on a recording, playing on loop in his ears. Sighing contentedly, he pressed one last kiss to the sensitive bundle of nerves and sat back on his heels, promptly shoving his sweats down his thighs. You had barely recovered from the second high he’d dangled just out of your reach when you felt the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance, and your whines pitched up again, hips nudging back toward him. He pressed into you in one fluid motion, both of you letting out heady moans—you at the fullness of him, and Hongjoong at the way your walls hugged him.

Once you had both had a moment to adjust, he pulled his hips back and snapped into you, the suddenness pulling a shout from your throat. He chuckled as he leaned over you and grabbed another handful of your hair, bracing himself on his right arm and forcing your gaze onto the marks you had left. He held his hips still as he pressed his back against yours, lips finding the skin just below your ear.

“I’m yours,” he muttered against your skin, tugging at your hair lightly.

A lazy smile spread across your lips and you nodded, committing the sight of his tattoo, painted with your marks, to memory. He laughed quietly at your already fucked out state, the noise sending electricity lighting down your spine. Without warning, he sank his teeth into your skin, pulling it between his teeth, sucking and laving at it enough that you were sure the mark he’d left would be a deep purple in the morning.

“And you’re mine, my little dove. Now sing for me.”

Pressing one last kiss to the mark he’d left, Hongjoong straightened back up, quickly setting into a brutal pace. Your quiet sighs and breathy whines were traded for full-throated moans and needy keens as he railed into you, one hand still in your hair while the other rested firmly on your hip. Each snap of his hips against yours punched another unfiltered sound or curse from you and you melted under him, back arching further into the couch below you. The shift had his cock dragging across your sweet spot with every stroke and you cried out his name, the high you’d lost building rapidly.

“Cum for me, angel,” he managed, pace picking up that much more as he began to use you to chase his own high.

Only seconds more passed before you were unraveling around him, walls spasming and pulling him in tighter. A drawn-out groan was forced out of him as he fucked you through it, hips stuttering as his own climax washed over him like a wave. He bottomed out within you and you sighed happily, your own orgasm prolonged as thick ropes of his release painted your insides white. You were sated, full of him, surrounded by Hongjoong, a blissful smile gracing your features as you let yourself bask in the afterglow, floating somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness.

You were vaguely aware of movement in your peripheral when you came to again, and a shiver lit down your spine. You were cold, lonely and empty; but in a moment warmth and a familiar scent of home surrounded you, and your sleepy smile returned. Your eyes blinked open to find Hongjoong’s arms wrapped firmly around you. A few of the marks you’d left were visible from this angle, and you let out a pleased hum, leaning forward to press a kiss to one of them.

“Mine,” you sighed, and felt the little giggle that shook his chest.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to the space below your ear, echoing quietly, “Mine.”

TAGLISTS [all open]: permanent: @justhere4kpop @tastymintchocolate @soul-jae ateez: @pyeonghongrie-main @thatonenoona

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brokenpieces-72 · 30 days ago

Text

Split

CoD Hybrid AU | Navigation

You have options for what to do next. Communications are still open, you have contacts that can assist you, and you can reach weapons easily enough. The problem is… the problem. The people who raised you, took care of you, and trained you are now trying to kill you and innocent people. There aren’t too many hybrid units that can be easily reached and it’s selfish but if the program found out about this you would be taken back immediately.

“Right now we need to wait this out.” Ghost admits. The problem is, plenty of people could die. There are evacuation and containment measures for when something like this happens but like any emergency, no one is guaranteed safety. Most of the men were likely out if not holed up somewhere.

“What about a flu shot?” You suggest. Ghost and Rudy both look at you, a little confused.

“A flu shot?” Ghost asks.

“It put me out of commission.” You point out.

“Yes, but it took a couple days.” Rudy reminds you.

“But I couldn’t do anything for a while before that. I even tried to shift, but it just made super tired…having a hard time shifting even now.” You mutter the last part. Ghost and Rudy share a look. It could be difficult, and they’d need to get to the flu shots, but it wasn’t a terrible idea. Certainly worth a try. It is concerning that you can’t shift properly but that’s an issue for later.

“Does Hunter have any vaccines?”

“Got a few extras just in case, there’s enough for every soldier on base.” You say.

“Administering them could be tricky.” Rudy mentions.

“I can hold them down if you can deliver.” Ghost tells him. Rudy nods. Ghost turns to you. “You know where the vaccines are?”

“In the medbay.” You say. Shit. That could get complicated.

“Jet injector might be useful. More force to it.” Ghost thinks aloud.

“Those would be in another part of the base.” Rudy says. It’s risky even leaving the room, but staying in one place is not safe either. Right now you three need to get to work before there’s too much bloodshed. Rudy is low on energy, and cadejos could take a while to recharge. Ghost can’t expend his abilities too much without risk, so hiding in shadows has to be limited. You can’t shift which was a bit of an issue, but you’re a quick runner, and you can duck into anywhere.

“Alright, we’ll try to go at this together, but knowing the odds we’ll get separated. Spirit, find the vaccines, as many of them as you can gather. Rudy, jet injectors. I’ll keep an eye on both of you as much as I can.” Ghost says. You get off the desk and stick close to the men’s sides. Thankfully Rudy still had his side arm, but you and ghost don’t have much.

Ghost looks down at you, and worries for a moment. “Y/N?”

You look up at him. “If we get separated, don’t open the door for anyone. Not unless it’s me or Rudy, and you ask us a question only one of us would know. Got it?”

You hesitate but nod. Ghost knows you’re worried about the team first and foremost. You’re scared for Johnny, as is he. König is one of your only friends. He gives your shoulder a light squeeze and you take a deep breath.

You can feel your heart thumping in your chest as the door is slowly opened. Price’s door lets out a soft squeak, something he refused to get fixed for his own purposes. You can hear some noises in the distance that make you want to go back inside the office. You have to steel yourself though. This is a mission, and you’re entering what is essentially a war zone with highly dangerous targets and bogies. Unfortunately you also know that soft squeak of the hinge is a blip on the radar for plenty of your team with enhanced senses.

Rudy is tense, which makes sense. He’s low on energy, and who knows how long he originally had before all hell broke loose in the infirmary. The cadejos would likely need a minute before he could summon them again.

You hear a howl, all of you do. You look back down the hall. Your brother is somewhere nearby, you know it’s him. It couldn’t be anyone else. There’s an odd pull towards it, but Rudy catches your shoulder.

“Mija, don’t.” You look back at him, knowing what he means. Throughout your time here, Soap had been nothing but supportive, and you feel like you could be letting him down. Another howl rings out and Ghost looks back as well. He knows that howl too. You look up at Ghost, wanting nothing more than to see your brother.

“We need to hurry.” He says, and continues moving. Then you hear your name. Soap knows you can hear it, and only you can hear it. It pulls your attention away from the set course. Rudy gives a soft tug to your shoulder, keeping you from taking off.

“Rudy…” you say softly.

“Not a good idea. We stay on target, yeah?” Rudy says. You nod and continue to follow. You hear some more noises. A few are cries, some are squelching and wet, and you can make out a pounding noise, something banging against walls. You realize you’re moving closer to it and stop.

Ghost takes notice as does Rudy.

“What?” Ghost asks.

“I think I hear Konig.”

“I don’t hear anything.” Rudy says.

“It’s near the medbay. Something trying to break out.” You explain.

“You can hear that?” Rudy asks.

“Yeah.” You say looking between the two men. They’re a little red in the face, exchanging looks. “Why do you think I wear headphones at night? Block out you two with you Soap and Alejandro down the halls.”

“Not the time.” Ghost says, not wanting to lose focus. “Let’s focus on findin-“

“Horangi.” You say seeing a familiar haetae approaching. Shit. His eyes are red, and his mouth is drooling. There’s no chuffing only low growls.

“Spirit… you know what to do.” Ghost instructs focusing on the stalking beast as you three step back. Rudy moves into your line of sight and Horangi. Your vision started to go white, as you realize Horangi is trying to hide himself. Ghost would be fine but Rudy? You have to hope Rudy with be okay. You take off without another thought, taking another route to the medbay. There’s growls both canine and feline but you don’t look back.

You turn the corners trying to focus on whatever smells of carnage you can track down.

Fresh scent, raw and meaty but still fresh. You pause for a moment taking time to locate yourself. You’re out of the fog at least. Frying pan and fire though because you’re exposed. Okay ignore the smells, you’ll smell blood and meat regardless of whichever way you go. The sound of banging though. That had to be Konig surely.

“Little rabbit…” you heard, and the hair on the back of your neck rose. It was soft but close. You took only a second to look up and see what was your worst nightmare.

He stood, half shifted, and covered in gore. He wiped his mouth on his arm, smearing the blood even more, approaching you with a hunger in his eyes.

“Johnny…”

“Run rabbit… run run run…”

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving @cutiecusp @shikigami-the-paper-spirit

#john soap mactavish #task force 141 x reader #cod au #simon ghost riley #rodolfo parra #horangi #halloween special #halloween #call of duty modern warefare #female reader #wendigo jackalope #hybrid au #cod hybrid au #we have a plan

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arcadia-of-pluto · 3 months ago

Text

Twist of Fate; Chapter Nine

Pairings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word Count; 3,530

Themes; isekai, eventual smut

Rating; 18+ for swearing and some mature context

Notes; Final chapter for the weekend unless I'm feeling crazy and I post chapter ten on Saturday or Sunday- which could be possible. I will apologize up front because reader is annoyed with Kieran and Luke at first, but I want to make this as realistic as possible. I feel like any normal person would be a bit on edge and snappy during this whole ordeal- and also understandably scared of Sylus. I love him so much but he would come off as scary at first, even if we know he's a teddy bear. I also added some flower language, because I feel like Sylus and flowers go hand-in-hand (like Hades and Peresephone).

Another reminder, Sylus's emoji is ❤️

Prev || Next

Masterlist

“She won't be sleeping forever, right? She's been unconscious for a day now. Shouldn't we try waking her up?”

“Easy! Just open up a hole in the back of her head. Drill a hole in her neck and…”

Your eyes sluggishly open. Your hand still felt numb from the gun's recoil. You clench your hand into a fist a few times before looking over at the two men in the room who immediately hide the darts and drills behind their backs. You sit up, rubbing your temples, “You two-”

“You're seeing things. I'm the only one here. There is no “two”.” The man with the left horn piercing says and you raise a brow with a scoff, shaking your head as you take note of the room you're in.

The room was old and empty, dust lining mostly everything in sight. It was dark. A black-grey cotton blanket hangs off the bed frame. Once you're done looking at the room, you point to the right horn piercing man behind the first one. “Then who's that?”

You're clearly not amused and not in the mood to be gaslit.

“My soul can leave…my body…” and the right man sticks his hands through his chest, convulsing his body and you use all of your strength to not pull your hair out. “Are you stunned? Shocked? Boooring.” The right one says and you're really not finding where the joke begins and ends.

“Ahem…Hi Y/n. Before you left boss’ parlor..well, we already met. Four days ago to be exact.” Left piercing says and then right piercing continues, “We didn't just save you from that ungrateful traitor. We also brought you back to Onychinus’ base.”

“So…do you want a thank you?” You tilt your head to the side, feeling a headache coming on but you notice the wounds on your knees were well taken care of so you try your best not to take your anger out on them. Even if the twins were sent by Sylus to keep an eye on you.

While you were mentally prepared for this situation, finding yourself actually in it was a whole different ballpark. You were definitely in over your head.

You think back to what happened after you shot Sylus..

Your ears rung from the gunshot and the smell of smoke filled the air. You were finally able to have control over your actions and you immediately asked if he were crazy.

“You wanted to take my life and so you've taken it.” He held a hand on the muzzle of the gun, breathing a bit heavier now that he had blood on his face. He tossed the gun to the side, letting it clatter to the floor. “Now what? Have you already figured out how you'll pay me back?”

You were too busy in panic mode. “You can't die yet.” You pat your hand over his chest before placing both of your hands over the gunshot, worried on how you'd stop the bleeding but Sylus takes a hold of your wrists, “Why? Are you worried about me?” He chuckles, his red and black evol energy swirling under your palms. Then, he sits up. “Save that for the day you actually succeed in killing me.”

As you looked down at your shaky, bloody hand, you realized the blood faded away in a black smoke until your hand was clean.

“We know what you're thinking,” the left twin, named Luke, pulls you out of your thoughts. “But after being hunted down in the Nest, do you know how many people are out there looking for you?” “And even if you escape, you'll only get lost in the chaos of this no-man's land.” Kieran, the right twin, adds.

Did you really want to leave? It would be a good option but definitely not a smart one. Sure, you're a bit traumatized..thinking you killed a hot man and also that little voice in your head, but leaving? But if that's what they assumed then it's clear what you should be trying to do to follow the game as safely as you can.

“Wanderers will eat you up…and they also won't leave behind any crumbs so-” Luke keeps trying to say things to make you stay. “Stay here with our boss!” Kieran decides to join Luke as they say it together.

Did they…somehow think you and their boss had a thing for each other? How could they get such a wrong idea…though you wouldn't be opposed to it, you're still currently scared of him. Scared of the situation at hand.

“Throw away all morality and compassion, and this place will be a paradise!” Kieran and Luke are still talking. They sure yap a lot. “By the way, who's older? You two are basically identical twins,” you ask, trying to throw them off. “Take a guess.” Luke immediately bites the bait. “Could you come closer so I can get a better look?” You softly question, trying to seem as calm and innocent as possible.

Which seems to work, since Luke walks closer without even an ounce of suspicion. When he's within reach, you pull out a laser pointer and hold it against his neck so you can threaten him. “Hey- What're you doing!?”

“Hmm have you heard of the XT-7, the Hunters Association’s latest weapon?” You raise a brow, thumb hovering above the trigger of the laser pointer. “It's a high powered laser that can penetrate your skin and vaporize your blood. The good news is its quick and painless but…the bad news is that you'll be losing a lot of blood. Are either of you squeamish?” You shoot them an innocent smile.

The two of them fall silent before Kieran opens the door and moves aside. “Did we say you weren't allowed to leave?”

You blink a few times, pressing your lips into a thin line. Damn you and your overthinking. Gosh, that's embarrassing.

You clear your throat and step into the dimly lit hallway with both of the twins, trying to brush off your threats from earlier. “Okay, just go straight down the hall and you’ll see the exit.” Kieran says, pointing to a door as you let go of Luke, who rubs his neck and promptly rushes over to Kieran’s side to hide behind him.

Though his gaze was still on the laser pointer in your hand. It’s a shame to let it go since you had gotten it for Estelle or Leo but…”Do you want it?” You ask him with a raised brow before you toss it toward him, “Here.” Luke, who is clearly surprised, catches it, “Really? That’s very nice of you to just give away a hunter’s secret weapon.” “It’s…a laser pointer,” You cover your mouth with a hand as you laugh. “You…-” You hear the slight embarrassment in Luke’s voice.

You flash a playful smile at him, moving to step in front of them both with your hands behind your back. “Did I ever say it was the XT-7?” Your laugh slightly rings out in the empty hallway as you get further and further away from the twins, who began whispering between each other behind you.

“How far do you think she’ll get? Thirty meters?” Luke whispers to Kieran, who chuckles, “I bet not even ten steps.” “I’ll…say five then.” Luke retorts, always trying to one up his twin.

Their voices slowly fade into the background as you kept walking down the hallway. You lift your arm up to look at your hunter’s watch, a bit surprised that they left it on you but then you realize it has no signal. Great. A sigh escaping your lips. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. The corridor before you is completely dark save for a few lights littering the tops of doorways, feeling almost like an endless tunnel or some kind of catacombs. While you really didn’t expect them to be kind enough to show you the way out, leaving that room could already be considered progress. At least, the most progress you’ve made since being here.

There are several, small crystal vases on the shelf by the wall. The drooping flowers in them have already withered which is a shame since they would’ve been so pretty. You notice daffodils- also known as a narcissus flower, poppy flowers, honeysuckles, baby’s breath, and a singular red rose.

You knew a tiny bit of flower language, having noticed a sign on the wall in Jeremiah’s flower shop a few days ago and from how much you were into Greek mythology in your past life. Narcissus flowers were what distracted Persephone before she was taken by Hades, poppy flowers mean ‘I am not free’, honeysuckle means ‘devoted affection’, baby’s breath means 'everlasting love', and red roses mean ‘I love you’. You were unsure of how to interpret any of that, but the narcissus flowers stood out to you most. Sylus really did feel like Hades…so would that make you Persephone? He was the leader of the underground, the N109 Zone…

On the other side of the vases is a black bird, a crow. It’s perched on a marble pillar that’s half as tall as a human with its metal wings tucked in. Was it just a statue? You weren’t so sure since you did recall seeing a crow fly onto Sylus’ shoulder whenever you first met him. Its eyes appear to be made of rubies. They glow with a lustrous yet haunting hue in the darkness. Its eyes suddenly move, fixing its gaze on you without blinking. You jump a bit, placing a hand over your chest as you narrow your eyes. Was this thing really alive? You take a deep breath and reach toward it to make sure whenever it suddenly spreads its wings and flies toward you. Its razor sharp feathers narrowly miss the top of your head as it passes through the thin gap of an open door. To pass through the corridor, you’ll have to go through there so maybe it was trying to show you the way? You hesitate for a moment, deciding to follow the crow after a few seconds since you had nowhere else to go.

Melodious classical music seeps out from behind the door, making the corridor even more peaceful- though a bit creepy. A relaxed male voice rings out amidst the graceful song. It feels akin to hearing a monologue behind a curtain.

“...they plan to implant protocores into human hearts. Then they’ll insert the human consciousness into wanderers. Their little project has a name. The Fountain of Atei..” The unfamiliar voice says and you can hear Sylus’ bored voice from the room. “You should know I’m not interested in other people’s business..and Mephisto said you lied. You’re not even telling me everything. It’s a shame you threw away your last chance.”

Mephisto? Why does that sound familiar…Anyway, you assume that man is probably about to die soon.

“No! Please forgive me…You can still use me as a tool! I…” “Our deal is over. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to entertain a more important guest.” Your body tenses up and you internally curse. If you’ve learnt anything from watching movies, then you know he knew you were behind the door. You strain your ears to try and listen to more but the pleading voice is gone, almost as if it were never there in the first place. Nothing but silence remains.

Then, the music that was playing before transitions into a more gentle song played by string instruments. “Aren’t you going to come in?” You hear Sylus ask and you know he’s not talking to anyone else but you. The twins sent you in this direction for a reason.

You grumble under your breath before stepping into the room, pausing as you enter it. The room was beautiful from the clean, white tablecloth to the silverware sparkling under the light to even the ice bucket with bottles of red wine. The gory scene you envisioned wasn’t here. Inside this calm room, it was almost like the other man inside never even existed, vanishing without a trace. You suddenly felt…hungry? How could you feel hungry after hearing all of that? Sylus waltzes over to the table, picking up a decanter and stepping over to your side as he pours you a glass of wine. One of your hands grabs onto the chair in front of you, squeezing on it to try and level your head as it felt like a crushing weight was pressed down on top of it. The same suffocating feeling you felt earlier trying to resurface as one hand darts out to grab a knife from the table.

“This will be useful for defending yourself in the N109 Zone.” Sylus lets out a cold chuckle as he places a familiar gun on the table. “Are you trying to mock me or something?” You raise a brow at him, grip tightening on the knife in your hand. “I’m giving you a way out.” He states as if it's clear as day what he means, “Since you can’t escape, why don’t we make a deal?” You take a shallow breath, drinking the wine in your hand as if to steel your nerves for what comes next. “Onychinus’s modus operandi is buying and selling by force. Too bad, I’m not interested.” At least, you have to act not interested since it would be out of character for you to openly accept this without having some big reason. You drink some more wine, feeling the burning in your stomach as it was stronger than you thought but you couldn’t stop drinking. You felt too hungry, too thirsty. It’s as if you were trying to numb yourself with this sensation.

“As long as you have desires, there will always be deals to make,” Sylus says as he tucks his thumbs in his pockets. His crimson eyes full of malice as he flashes a hint of a smile. Your gaze down to his smile before noticing how his tall figure blocks out some of the light…his right eye starting to glow once more. He’s got to be using some kind of power and when he uses it, you’ll be in a daze and experience auditory hallucinations.

“So many days have come and gone. You should know your own desires by now,” Sylus says as he twirls a coin around in his hand, flipping it into the air. You press your lips together in a thin line. You had a few thoughts, sure. A few desires. Some you’d rather not admit aloud. Okay, more than a few actually but that’s beside the point. What does he even want to know? “Only I can give you what you want.” His voice drops to a whisper, dripping with an emotion you can’t describe. Your hand clenches into a fist as you clear your throat and turn your head away. You wouldn’t lie, that did sound hot, but you knew he wasn’t talking about where your mind went. “And you will agree to my terms.”

You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment as you refuse to be controlled by this man. “What terms?” You ask, stepping closer to Sylus as you hold your head up high to look up at him. Your head tilting to the side. “You just want me to resonate with you, right? You know what,” You shake your head with a sharp laugh, “Sure, I’ll accept this deal. It’s not like I have much leverage in this situation anyways. I resonate with you and you give me the aether core from Onychinus’s auction-'' You grab onto his hand. His fingers are long and his palm is cold, even touching his hand faintly brings forth a sense of dread.

“Release me. You can’t do that just yet.” He sighs, shaking his head and you let out a huff, “Don’t move!” You look up at him with furrowed brows, being spurred on by your want to hurry up and leave. Trying to find a hint of emotion or anything on his face and for a moment, a complex and incomprehensible struggle appears in his gaze. What could be the reason for that? Where does the power in his right eye come from? Why does it feel so oddly familiar to you? Is it related to the aether core? Time passes ever so slowly, silence filling the room. “Why is it..” You murmur under your breath but you refuse to give up, gripping his hand tighter as you try to focus on resonating with the man. It was never this difficult to resonate with the others, so why wasn’t it working now? The invisible pressure swelling around you becomes stronger and the alcohol inside you was gradually subsiding as you slowly realized you made a very dangerous move.

You blink a few times and let out a small, awkward laugh. “Ah…” You straighten your posture and quietly try to let go of Sylus’ hand and yet for all his denying from earlier, he grips your hand more tightly, not allowing you to pull away from him. “Maybe…I’ve been too kind to you.” His voice deeply drawls as he keeps a firm grip on your hand. You couldn’t even try to pull away if you wanted to now. “You- let go!” Your cheeks are puffed up in a pout, not even noticing how comfortable you’re getting with him.

“Even if you keep holding on to me like this, I can’t resonate with you. It’s not something I can just do on a whim! I could do it so easily with…” You stop yourself from finishing your sentence and Sylus raises a brow, “Hmm…after all that arrogance, it seems like you can’t even control your own evol.” “...at the very least it doesn’t want to be activated in front of you,” You murmur under your breath as you pout, lowering your gaze away from him. Though once you look back up at him, you notice his gaze is on your interlocked hands. He stares at them blankly for a few minutes before he finally begins to let go. You rub your wrists and take a few steps back, your breathing and heartbeat gradually returning back to normal.

You both were at a standstill. Then, with a thoughtful expression, he leans back in his chair and looks at you. “Just as I thought. You’re too weak.” He rests his hand under his chin with a thoughtful expression on his face. Is everyone in the N109 Zone weird? Because you like to think you’ve gotten a considerable amount stronger, especially since you’ve been training for two months now. Sylus pinches the area between his brow, then raps his knuckles against the table. “Eat as much as you want.” He says those words like he’s giving out an order that won’t be questioned.

You look over all of the food on the table, suddenly being reminded of the Hades and Persephone myth. The specific part where if you eat the food of the Underworld then you’re trapped there. Your gaze lands on an oddly coincidental pomegranate on the table. “What? Are you..” The word ‘insane’ hovers on the tip of your tongue, but you force yourself to stop talking. You turn to look back at the long, seemingly endless table behind you. It is certainly filled with a wide variety of food but the lavishness of it is almost dizzying. Any other time it would probably be quite attractive for a man to be showing off his wealth like this but you’re unsure of how to feel since you don’t know just where all of this wealth came from.

“I’ll give you ten minutes. After you’re done, come find me outside the base’s entrance. You better hope our deal is successful. Otherwise, consider this your last meal.” You tense up as Sylus walks past you to leave the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding and drop to the ground, your knees giving out. “Jesus christ…” You mutter, exasperated. This was not normal at all. You weren’t sure how you were going to be able to get used to any of this but you can’t ponder much on it as you feel a buzzing in your pocket. “What-” You reach in and pull your phone out. Why the hell did you still have your phone? You check your new messages and see one from a random number, getting flashbacks to the unknown number before you woke up in this world but turns out, it’s just Sylus.

❤️ :’Ten minutes. Dont forget.’

You roll your eyes, pulling out a chair to sit down as you tell him to make it twenty since you haven’t eaten in a day or two. You decide to push your worries about Hades and Persephone aside, changing his nickname in your phone to ‘Hades’ before you start eating. If you’re going to keep up this act of being fine, then you really need some food in your system.

If the dialogue feels a bit stiff, that's because it is. It's so hard to fit my own words into the story itself whenever there's so much dialogue. I can't have what I want the reader to say, because the storyline is too built up on what the original mc says and her reactions to the world around her...but I will criticize her every action as the reader's thoughts, because some things that she does are rather dumb. Or they don't make sense for the narrative.

Chapter ten is another one of my favourites and includes more flower language so I hope you're excited for it 🩷 I think flower language is so pretty and really fits 'Love and Deepspace'. Because just a single flower can tell a big story. Like the flowers I chose, in-game there wasn't any flowers at all. In the vase, they were wilted so instead, I just looked up flower language and chose a few to tell a narrative! These are the small changes I wanted to do with the original story so I hope they don't catch y'all too off guard.

Taglist; @orphicmeliora , @yoongi-tunes

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the-scarlet-witch-22 · 6 months ago

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Love and Liabilities: Chapter Four (Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader)

Summary: As you prepare for the impending trial and attempt to find ways to relieve your stress, the biggest stressor in your life has a funny way of showing up when you least expect it.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Lawyer!Agatha is back after a little hiatus! This is a bit of a shorter chapter to get me back into writing after a few months. I’m hoping to be updating a bit more regularly but I’m (sadly) growing even more busy & stressed, so I promise to do the best I can! As always I hope you enjoy, and thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to let me know what you think. My asks/dm’s are always open!

Tag List: @chiar4anna @harknessshi @neverfindmegone @aggieslittleslut @ris-ris-mind @tr333sus @sabstance-blog

Present Day

The whooshing of the wind in your ears combined with the cool air filling your lungs fueled you to increase your pacing as you ran through the deserted park. It had been nearly a week since you reunited with Agatha, and your brain had been hellbent on torturing you ever since. Nothing could take your mind off the infuriating attorney, not even work. You had spent the past few days pouring over every word in the various documents Agatha presented during the pretrial conference, hoping to find something, anything really, to solidify your case.

It was times like this when you missed working in corporate law. Although you had only been a junior attorney at Stark & Strange, you had unlimited access to paralegals and attorneys at your disposal. Unfortunately, working for the government meant not only taking a significant pay cut, but also limiting your outsourcing. You didn’t regret your decision to leave the firm, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss the perks.

Since burying yourself in piles of work proved useless, your only real escape from Agatha came from running. The familiar burning sensation began to fill your lungs as your body begged for a break, but you forced yourself to continue. Your legs felt heavier than when you first started, and as you rounded the corner of the trail you had to work twice as hard to not slow down. Even though you were growing tired, the rush of endorphins was a welcome change from the haunting memory of searing blue eyes burning holes into your own.

Agatha would be far too pleased to learn how much of your time and energy was being wasted trying to forget her. However, being the soul sucking succubus she was, you wouldn’t be surprised if she was already aware of the pain she was causing. A swell of anger suddenly overtook you, a feeling you had long grown familiar with when thinking of her, and you used it to finish the final stretch of your run. The thudding of your feet on the pavement along with the loud thumping of your heartbeat acting as a painful reminder of the woman you so desperately wanted to rid yourself of.

Swirls of scarlet, orange, and yellow painted the Manhattan skyline as the sun gradually rose over the city, and the quiet beeping of your phone from your back pocket signaled the end of your run. Nearing the end of the trail, you slowed your pace down to a steady walk, allowing yourself to do some breathing exercises in the process whilst checking your email. It was early enough in the morning that there wasn’t much for you to go through, but you knew it was bound to be yet another busy day.

You had timed your run to give yourself just enough time to head back to your apartment to get ready for the day and get to the office before the rest of your colleagues. The stress of the looming trial was becoming overwhelming, and you had to be prepared for whatever chaos Agatha would inevitably throw at you. Unfortunately that meant you were working nearly double the amount of hours than normal.

Luckily you were able to take a quick shower, find clean clothes in the back of your closet, and managed to get to work before anyone else had arrived. You would hopefully have an hour or two to yourself before you were eventually interrupted, and you intended to use every last possible second you could. As you strolled the corridor, you were tempted to stop to make yourself a coffee, but decided to get settled before adding caffeine to this situation.

Absentmindedly dropping your bag to the floor after you entered your office, you refocused your attention on reading a memo that one of your colleagues had left for you. Making mental notes of what needed to be addressed, you turned to open the blinds when you stopped dead in your tracks at what was in front of you.

Agatha Harkness sat in an armchair in the corner of your office, an amused expression painting her face. You nearly fell over at the sight of her, how did she get in here? The door was locked when you had arrived, wasn’t it?

Agatha, unaware of your current inner ramblings, took a sip of her coffee before repositioning herself, recrossing her legs as she gave you a disappointed look. “Your lack of situational awareness is truly astonishing. I could have been a murderer.”

Adrenaline continued to course through your body as your heart thumped loudly in your chest. Taking a deep breath, you ignored her sarcastic remarks as you leaned against your desk, attempting to calm down.

“What-what the hell are you doing in here?” You spluttered out, unsuccessfully trying to regain your composure.

The attorney frowned, as if that was an absurd question. “This is your office, is it not? I wasn’t sure at first, but the withering plants were a bit of a giveaway.”

Typical Agatha. They weren’t dying, were they? You made a mental note to ask your paralegal to water them a bit more.

Ignoring the jab, you took another deep breath, your body still on edge. “Do I even want to know how you got in here?”

Taking a moment to think over your words, she shook her head. “No. Now drink your coffee before the ice melts.”

It was then that you noticed the untouched cup of iced coffee on the edge of your desk. Narrowing your eyes at it, you gave her a suspicious glance. “How do I know you didn’t poison it?”

Agatha rolled her eyes, as if that was the most ridiculous thing to ask her and she didn’t just break into your office. “Honestly, dear. You’re far too paranoid this early in the morning. Drink. We both know how irritable you are without caffeine.”

When you refrained from grabbing the cup, Agatha huffed, her stormy blue eyes swirling in annoyance as she rose from her seat. Taking a step towards you until your legs were nearly touching, she snatched the cup, the silence in the room disrupted by the clanking sound of the ice swirling in the cup. Hovering over you, she used her free hand to grab yours, the soft feel of her touch briefly taking you back to a time where it would have been more welcomed.

Your breath hitched as the rich, musky scent of her expensive perfume washed over you, and you fought the temptation to look into her eyes. How many times had you found yourself in this exact same position with her, you mused lightly as your brain attempted to regain its ability to function. Agatha’s fingers intertwined with yours, as she leaned in even closer, her lips grazing your jawline and you closed your eyes, fighting against the urge to lean into her touch.

Clearing your throat, you shook your head. “No. This can’t happen again.”

Agatha pulled back, her eyebrows slightly raised. “What can’t happen again?”

Giving her a pointed look, you tried to ignore the feel of her fingers still interwoven with your own. “I don’t think we need to relive that mistake, do we?”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” Agatha replied, swishing the cup of iced coffee as she lifted it up. “I seem to recall you rather enjoying yourself during that mistake, or was that someone else who pulled me into a closet and jumped me?”

“I did not jump you! You’re the one who came onto me,” you hissed as your irritation grew exponentially.

“Easy, tiger,” Agatha teased, raising the cup until the straw was nearly touching your lips. “I see the caffeine withdrawal is already kicking in.”

“Agatha…” you trailed off, ignoring your brain protesting that this would hurt even more than your last encounter.

Dropping your hand, Agatha gently cupped your jaw, tilting your head upwards until you were forced to meet her eyes.

“Sip,” Agatha murmured, raising the cup once more to your lips.

Her words were soft, but you both knew it wasn’t a request as much as a command. A part of you knew this was a mistake, that you couldn’t give into her yet again after being strong for so long. But then you looked into her eyes and found yourself getting lost in the fiery intensity she always seemed to carry. Logic and reason held no weight against the pleasure that was being at the mercy of Agatha Harkness.

Wrapping your lips around the straw, you lightly sucked, savoring the creamy, cold taste of the iced coffee on your tongue. Agatha’s eyes darkened at the sight; using one hand to brush your hair behind your shoulders while the other remained glued to your jaw, fingers brushing lightly against your skin.

“Good girl,” Agatha quietly praised, running her fingers through your hair, tugging lightly at the loose strands.

As you released the straw from your mouth, Agatha set the cup down, tightening her grip on your hair before capturing your lips in a kiss. Her lips were warm and gentle against your own, but it wasn’t long before she began nipping on your lower lip, biting down harder when you let out a whine. Moving forward, she pressed herself fully against you, while you instinctively wrapped your arms around her waist. Her tongue expertly sought out your own, and it felt like she was trying to get every drop of coffee from your mouth.

Panting, you were the first to break the kiss, tilting your head as Agatha proceeded to pepper persistent kisses down your jawline, each leaving you more breathless than the last.

“Agatha…” you whimpered, the last bit of self control slipping away even as you tried to hold onto it. “We can’t do this again.”

The attorney chuckled softly against your skin, tickling you ever so slightly in the process. She took a moment to look up at you then, with her ever blue eyes hazy with want and perfectly swollen red lips, and you remembered a moment in time where this had been easier. It was almost too easy to forget the pain of the past when she looked at you in that special way; as if she saved those intimate, sweet glances just for you. You used to believe you were able to bring out a different side of her than the rest of the world saw; that you understood who she was at her core.

Having her here now made the whole situation even worse than you previously remembered. It complicated things, and if there was one thing you hated more than anything, it was unnecessary complications. You found it difficult to remember the seemingly obvious reasons why you left her all those years ago when she was standing within your reach; the light that once dimmed in her eyes was once again ablaze. Gone were the demons of the past, in its place was the woman you had once fallen in love with.

Unfortunately, you were snapped out of your thoughts as you heard chatter from the hallway; your colleagues had arrived for the day. Agatha’s head tilted at the sound, and the moment was broken as she took a step back.

Clearing her throat, she folded her arms across her chest. “I was hoping you had given more thought to dropping the case, that’s why I dropped by.”

Annoyance took over any feelings of longing that had been threatening to emerge, and you frowned. “You do realize that this could be perceived as intimidation, right? That on top of trespassing could mean you potentially lose any upper hand in this trial that you believe you possess.”

Agatha fully cackled, which only served to enrage you further. She picked up a few files that she must have previously set on the desk. “You always were so full of pride and ambition, dear. I’m not surprised to see it still has a hand in clouding your judgment. It’s a pity. I always thought you had a lot of potential.”

Flabbergasted, you shook your head. You should have known better. Only Agatha would be capable of attempting to manipulate you over your shared past to better serve her motive. Shoving past her, you finally opened the blinds to your office, the once sunny morning replaced with dark gray skies as rain furiously poured down. As you turned around to tell Agatha to get out, you were unsurprised to find she was already gone. Typical.

Settling down at your desk, you opened your laptop and started going through your checklist for the day when you noticed something on the edge of your desk; a file folder. You quickly realized Agatha must have left it behind by accident, which was strange; it wasn’t like her to do something like that. It was unclear what drove you to opening the file, but looking back you’d blame it on your own morbid curiosity. Inside there were over a dozen pages of what appeared to be hospital records for two people, one being Wanda Maximoff.

As you settled in to read, your eyes drifted to the neglected iced coffee. A part of you wanted to throw it away, but the caffeine driven side of your brain led you to grab it. After all, it would be a shame to let it go to waste.

Flipping the page over as you sipped, you paused as you actually tasted the coffee for the first time without distraction.

This is your exact coffee order. Iced coffee, extra ice, one pump of vanilla and a splash of oatmilk. After all of these years she still remembered, remembered it perfectly.

You weren’t sure why you hated that as much as you did, but it burns in your mind as you keep reading and drinking, trying to wash her taste out of your mouth.

#agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #marvel au #wandavision au #agatha harkness fanfiction #agatha all along

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eatmangoesnekkid · 5 months ago

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Cassie: Friend, Soulmate, and Self-Regenerating Muse

One of the ongoing themes of my multi-book series is The Muse: the consciousness, archetype, and ways of moving and being of the Muse, who is the Muse and why this energetic matrix is important for every femme to embody for her aliveness and manifestation potential. I made a major edit in this chapter after randomly meeting someone one warm day in Amsterdam recently. The chapter now opens with a story about her.

Cassie is her name and she is stunning. I don’t know what it is about Amsterdam but I rarely—meaning—never —meet people I feel a deep soul kinship with. To be fair, I spend more time biking in Amsterdam instead of walking because the weather is often trashy. But walking is my favorite exercise and I tend to walk a whole lot more in other cities when I’m traveling because, hello, beautiful weather. But on this warm beautiful Sunday in Amsterdam, I joyfully walked everywhere. That’s how I met Cassie, an Indonesian and Surinamese (Black) 38 year old Goddess as she was lightheartedly and confidently sashaying down the street in her short denim dress with peak-a-boo air holes cut out on the sides which illuminated her waist.

She was alone with no cell phone or bag, casually strollin' to her own rhythms while licking a vanilla ice cream cone and delighting in her own innocence and pleasure after walking through the city for hours I would later find out. That is so me—walking for hours in a city and getting lost without a cell phone on me. It was like seeing myself and one of my favorite Minnie Riperton album covers come to life in full-size, "Perfect Angel," the one where she is holding a dripping ice cream cone while smiling so sweetly. Suddenly Cassie made a u-turn and sat on the bench directly across from me. I knew I had to say something to her.

The first thing I said was “you must tell me what you do to have that kind of body.” She responded “you must tell what YOU do to have that kind of body.” She reminded me of me so much—it was dreamy and surreal as watching a Maya Deren “black and white” film yet it was as real as human flesh and a beating heart. You know what her answer was?! “I don’t workout my body. I just workout my mindset and emotional body.” I responded with all manners of celebration “you magical neuroscience quantum theory Gawddddd.” We both laughed! We ended up talking for 4 whole hours— nerding out on everything from quantum physics and metaphysics to speaking about our dreams, love, farm life, and why high-quality, non-extractive penetration (when mutual love and reverence are present regardless of the 'relationship status' between the two) is essential for the healthy shape of a woman’s body and to liberate the deeper coiled wisdom living in her female tissues that no male guru in India could ever possibly understand or teach. It felt like Cassie and I had only been sitting there for only 30 minutes. She was my muse and I was hers. We went on a real journey together.

To open yourself up to The Muse and allow this regenerative consciousness to be your lighthouse in the world requires devotion and a kind of playful endurance and resiliency where you begin to hold a quality of self-worth that does not allow you to give up before the miracles start to happen in your life. Being able to follow a dream -your heart's desires and big visions, capable of trusting the process of what is being divinely asked of you to do and not give up, truly embodying the mindset of a divine being, yield a greater energy of pure power. And what I know about energy is that everything is sourced from it, even though it appears physical to our eyes.

Of course, if you desire to work through the physical/3D world/matter, those things you can logically track and measure, you can. But the truth is that you access more infinite power to shift your body and whole life when you begin to tune into E-N-E-R-G-Y, the subtle, immaterial, and invisible, the spirit that lies beneath the surface, like blessing your food and directing it to travel to the parts of your body you’d like for it to energize or nourish, to make more shapely or healthy. Also, getting into energy work and metaphysics, the essences of your chi, makes you prettier like a beauty ritual, more naturally attractive, magnetic, and wiser. I can’t wait to finalize this chapter and share a snippet here. Yum!—India Ame’ye

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cowgurrrl · 7 months ago

Text

I Wish I Was

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: yay for creative energy coming back!!

Summary: Murphy’s Law dictates… [3.1k]

Warnings: art talk, discussions of a deceased parent, probably incorrect blueprint talk, a cliff hanger 😈

Temperatures rarely dip below the thirties in Central Texas. It's not impossible, as evidenced by the below-freezing temperatures ravaging much of the South in the final days before returning to school, but it's still rare. Nobody really knows what to do when there's the threat of the roads icing over, so they just decide to shut most things down, including your bar. You feigned disappointment when your manager called to tell you when, in reality, you were digging through your box of acrylic paints to find the one shade that's been calling your name. With the sudden free time, you get to work on your half-finished canvases and listen to the same record repeatedly in the hopes that your brain will zone out enough for you to make something good.

It could be The Mamas and The Papas record spinning or the dark blue winter light shining through your blinds, but you actually like the piece of art unfolding on your canvas. It's undeniably different, a little more vibrant and a little more abstract, but it feels good— sustainable, at the very least. You feel less self-conscious about them and even snap pictures to show them off to Andie. You've finished three other canvases and sent in images of them to a local art collective that takes gallery submissions twice a year, and they've moved you on to the next part of the acceptance process. It's not a definite yes, but it's not an immediate no. You haven't told Joel about the submission or anything, really. You've just holed yourself up in your apartment to paint and sporadically respond to his texts with lots of apologies typed with yellow or purple fingertips.

He knows you're not ignoring him, and you know he's a busy guy. He has better things to do than sit around and wait for you to text him back, but you feel bad about not being as present as you were before. "It's all part of the process, I promise," you said. "Then, when I get my own gallery, you can hear all about it while you fix up my classroom." He reminded you that "pride goeth before the fall" but didn't doubt or pressure you to break your flow. The only thing he consistently texts you about is making sure you're drinking water, stretching your wrists, and, at least, looking at a vegetable during your long sessions. Otherwise, he leaves you alone to work. Everyone else, including the stack of looming emails in your inbox, gets deliberately ignored so you can live in your bubble for just a little longer before school drags you back into session.

That's why you jumped and furrowed your eyebrows at your ringing phone when his contact photo appeared unexpectedly, breaking you out of your concentration. You wipe your hands on your old pair of too-big jeans (universally known as your work pants because they're covered in different colored hand prints) and swipe to answer him before the silly picture of him with one of your scarves on his head can go away. You hear him shuffling around when you put it on speaker and almost hang up, thinking it's a butt dial before you finally hear his voice.

"Hello?" He greets.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Did I leave my jacket there?" He asks. You let out a relieved sigh that it's nothing too dramatic, but the lingering panic his phone call caused sits in the back of your head as you glance down at said jacket. You adjust the palette in your hand, suddenly hyper-aware of the wet paint and thanking whatever God is out there for not getting any on his clothes. You can't imagine things would go over well with the guys if he suddenly showed up to job sites with pink paint on the sleeve of his jacket.

"No..." you say, extending the vowel, and he chuckles.

"Do me a favor. See if there's a ring of keys in the front pocket?" He says. You gently put the palette on your coffee table and wipe your hands again to ensure there's no wet paint on them before digging into both front pockets and feeling the keys in his left pocket. You pull them out and find the set of keys with a baseball keychain and a keychain with a picture of him and the girls on it.

"I've got 'em," you say. "The Astros? Really?"

"D'you mind bringin' 'em to the office? I forgot I needed 'em." He ignores your jab, and you look down at your outfit. Clad in your work pants, a sports bra, Joel's Carhartt jacket, and your unwashed hair in a clip, you are not prepared to leave the house today, let alone go see Joel.

"Um..."

"Somethin' wrong?" He asks, and you wince. What are you gonna say? Sorry, I know you have to do your job and all, but I look and feel like shit, so I can't bring your keys to you? He's already seen you in disarray from the school day, but that was a cuter, more socially acceptable version of disarray. This version gives credence to the messy, mentally ill artist stereotype Freud introduced however many years ago.

"No, nothing's wrong. I just..." you sigh and rub your face. "I wasn't expecting to see you today. I kinda look crazy."

"That's it?" He asks, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "Baby, I don't care how you look. You could show up in a potato sack, and I wouldn't care."

"Well, lucky for you, I don't own a potato sack, but I'm pretty sure that would look better than this."

"If it makes you feel better, the office is empty."

"Then, why are you in? It's fucking freezing."

"I needed to make sure the pipes didn't freeze over, and I left some blueprints here," he says. "I can grab 'em from you and just come back to the office."

"No, I don't want you driving more than you have to," you say, already stretching out your stiff legs. Your knees creak in protest, and fatigue seeps into your bones. God, how long have you been sitting here? "Just don't say I didn't warn you."

"I think it'll take a lot more than some messy clothes to scare me off, darlin'," he says, and you roll your eyes at his charm. With a quick goodbye, you throw on a clean enough sweater and leggings. You debate running a brush through your hair before remembering what he said about the empty office and decide you don't have the energy. If he really doesn't care what you look like, then you're not going to stress about it.

You're a little worried about driving in the weather, even you aren't immune to Southern weather panic, but the roadways are mostly clear, and things aren't expected to get really bad until later on. Still, you drive slowly and white-knuckle the wheel against strong, frigid winds. By the time you get to Joel's office, the sky is more grey than blue, and radio announcers warn you that there might be flurries within the next forty-eight hours. You doubt they'll stick to the ground and amount to nothing more than some black ice, inconveniencing everyone in the state, but still. You leave the relative warmth of your car and walk as fast as you can into the building, clutching Joel's jacket close to your body and sending a wave of his smell over you.

The office itself is small, with a couple of desks here and there, mostly for meeting with clients and explaining building plans. A coffee pot and water cooler sit in the corner next to the receptionist's desk, which is currently empty. It's eerily quiet in the space except for the sound of the heat rumbling somewhere in the walls, and you almost wonder if Joel left without telling you when you hear grumbling and the tell-tale sound of his boots against the tile. He doesn't notice you at first. Instead, he scowls at a paper like it owes him money and mutters under his breath. Whatever is annoying him is wiped away the second he sees you there.

"Hey, baby," he lights up as he walks over to you and kisses you, abandoning the paper on one of the desks so he can hold you close. He tastes like coffee and the beeswax chapstick Ellie got him for Christmas. You didn't realize how much you missed him until now, and you smile against his lips. "You got my keys?" He asks as he turns to walk into his office, grabbing your hand and bringing you with him. He lets go of you to close the door behind him, and you dig the keys out of your pocket and toss them at him. He catches them in mid-air easily and walks over to the filing cabinet.

"You intentionally leave your keys with me, or is this just a happy accident?" You ask, and he smirks.

"Maybe I just wanted to see you again."

"Sneaky," you say as you walk around his space while he searches for the correct blueprint.

It's a relatively normal office with eggshell walls and bad fluorescent lighting, but once you step behind his desk, you get a good idea of the man who works here. His desk is old and made of some type of wood he probably knows more about than you do. It's filled with little knick-knacks and things that get him through the day: family pictures, a painted gecko from Terlingua, stress balls, and a desk calendar with his all-caps handwriting. There are even some drawings done by Ellie pinned on the corkboard behind his chair, her skill visibly improving as she gets older.

One particular picture on his desk catches your eye. It's older than the rest, and it takes you a minute to recognize Joel's eyes in the greying man. Joel, Tommy, and their dad smile at the camera with identical grins. Tommy can't be older than ten while Joel towers over them both, his broad shoulders taking up lots of space. You pick it up to look at it closer and Joel doesn't stop you. Instead, he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"'S this your dad?" you ask, and he nods. "You guys look a lot alike."

"You think?" He asks like he doesn't see it, and you look at him. You take a second or two to let your eyes trace his features and compare them to his dad's before nodding.

"Yeah. Same eyes," you say as you look back down. "And smile." He hums happily at that. Joel's face hasn't changed much now that he's a grown man. If anything, he looks more like his dad, with the grey at the temples and the beard framing his face. You see bits of their father in Tommy, too, but you assume he probably looks more like their mother. "How old were you in this?"

"Mm, fifteen? Maybe sixteen." Right before his dad died, you think. You wonder if he's thinking the same thing or reliving the day over again. Before the clutches of grief can sink you both, you smile to yourself and hold the picture a little closer.

"I would've been obsessed with you if we'd gone to high school together."

"Really?" He asks incredulously, and you giggle at the thought.

"Oh, for sure. Look at you!" You point to his little broody half-smile as if it's evidence. "Those eyes, that hair, the attitude. I mean, c'mon, Joel!" He laughs at your praise and takes the photo out of your hands.

"Alright, alright, that's enough objectification for teenage Joel."

"I'm not objectifying you! I'm just stating the obvious."

"Mhm," he hums, and you laugh. You continue walking around and looking at his things as he frowns at the blueprint he trekked through the cold to get. "Shit." He mumbles, reaches for a pencil, and scribbles something on the plans.

"What's wrong?" You ask, perching yourself on the edge of his desk and leaning over to look at the intricate design. It looks like a big house with lots of elaborate details written on the margins. It's a big build. No wonder he needed to get this copy.

"This client decided they wanted a bigger kitchen, but I don't know how to do that without eatin' into another room and changin' the whole plan," he sighs. "We're supposed to be back on the site once this storm blows over, and I gotta have an idea of how we're gonna do this by then."

"Can't you just tell them no?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"Can’t you just tell your principal no?

"Point taken," you say. "What about pushing it into the backyard a little? Then you could use this area over here to make a sunroom or something," you suggest, gesturing to the weird leftover space that would make the house look wonky. His eyebrows knit together as he thinks.

"Then what should I do here?" He asks. Together, you go back and forth, discussing dimensions, perspectives, and measurements. You never realized how similar these designs are to art. They have to have more of a purpose and fit specific parameters, but other than that, they have the same idea: create something out of nothing. It's cool to see Joel in his own element, doing mental math and estimates that would take you ages to do and writing down his findings as you figure them out together. He's not just good at math, he's good at sketching the new designs.

Almost seamlessly, he flips through the floor plans and layouts, adding a window there or changing the flow of a room with a singular erasure. He adds the perfect depth to see the idea clearly without crowding the space and making it seem too busy, allowing the clients to picture their furniture in the home. When you bring up an idea, he's quick to rotate the plans upside down to imagine how it would look and if it would impact the building process, his brain running through every possible solution and flipping it without even thinking. Ellie does the same thing when she gets stuck on a drawing. You see where she gets her skill from, even if he'll never admit it.

For someone who has always struggled with math, you enjoy the balance between math, engineering, and art in the plans, but you like working with Joel the most. It's nice to feel like you're helping instead of distracting him. You're not sure how long you worked together, reconfiguring things this way and that, before you finally reached a viable solution, but you know that Joel has the biggest smile on his face when he looks away from the blueprints.

"You mighta missed a callin', my dear." He says, and you laugh, shaking your head.

"My college algebra professor might disagree, but I do think this is interesting."

"Well, if you ever want a job..." he trails off as he rolls the blueprints back up and secures it with a rubber band. You smirk and tug at his belt loops to bring him closer to where you're sitting on his desk.

"You just want me to get more tattoos." You accuse, and he chuckles as he tosses the prints somewhere behind you, his hands coming up to frame your face.

"I'm just sayin', Miller Contracting don't have a policy against it like the school district does."

"Mm, what about dating? That might get a little dicey."

"Is sleepin' with your boss better or worse than sleepin' with a student's parent?" He asks, and you laugh.

"They're probably in the same realm of bad."

"Then, we've got nothin' to lose." He says as he leans down to kiss you. You open your legs just enough for him to step in between your knees and get as close as he can. He's trimmed his beard since the last time you saw him, but the stubble still scratches deliciously against your skin, making you sigh. He breaks away enough to tip you back onto his desk, narrowly missing his clutter, and you giggle when he kisses your neck.

"How long have you been plannin' this one?" you ask, your years in Texas showing through in your breathless voice. He smiles as he meets your eyes.

"I dunno what you're talkin' bout."

"Oh, so getting me alone and on top of your desk was just a coincidence?"

"Happy accident." He muses, sliding his hands up your shirt as he gets lower and lower. Your hands play with his hair, occasionally tugging on the strands just to hear the sound he makes. You would've been happy to do that all day if your phone ringing through the suddenly too-warm air of his office didn't interrupt. Joel groans and drops his head to your sternum, his hands pausing their journey up your body as you wiggle your phone out of your back pocket. Your heart drops the second you recognize the phone number.

"Who is it?" Joel asks like he's reading your mind. You sit up slowly, and he takes his hands off you without malice or frustration. You're stuck staring at the number until it disappears off your screen and goes to voicemail.

"Um... someone from work. I should probably call them back." You say, unsure of yourself as the words fall from your mouth. Joel looks confused but doesn't push.

"Oh. Right, yeah. School starts back up on Monday, right?"

"Yeah, she probably just wants to talk about lesson plans or something," you say, standing from your spot on the desk. The air has changed between you, and suddenly, things feel clunky and awkward. This is the worst possible timing. "Can I call you later?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll walk you out." He says sheepishly. You don't say anything as he opens the doors for you and gives you a quick kiss and a reminder to text him when you get home. You just nod and immediately speed walk to your car even though you're not that cold. Joel watches you pull out from your parking spot and leave the strip mall, waving before you can turn out of sight.

You wait until you're five minutes down the road before you dial the number back as if Joel would be able to hear the crackly voice through your speaker if you were any closer. Your heart beats fast in your chest, and your palms are sweaty on the wheel as the phone rings. When the dial tone finally ends, and your call is answered, the anxiety is replaced with frustration.

"What’s up?" You ask through gritted teeth, and you hear her take a breath.

"We need to talk about Ellie’s dad."

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia @maried01 @acupofhollie

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r0-boat · 1 year ago

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Hear me out, flying type hybrid darling using their wings to hug their partner.

Like 'preening' their partner's hair and hiding their feathers in their partner's clothes; chirping / hooting happily when their partner come back home with hands full of their feathers like a silly game

(Can be anyone you like I just cant get this thought out my head haha)

Now I am absolutely obsessed with shipping Larry with monster reader. And when I saw Harpy reader I dived for it aaa.

The characters I will do is Larry, Warden Ingo, Leon,

Various characters (pokemon) reaction to their beloved as a flying type hybrid harpy.

Larry

You just showed up one night scratching in his back door with your sharp claws. You were looking for nesting material the day before you never asked a human for some this human seemed shocked But ultimately gave you some cloth it was strong yet soft and smelled nice. This human was nice : )

As a flying-type trainer, he knows some of the mannerisms you have. He thinks it's cute when you preen his hair or make a small nest out of his clothes because you missed him. Sometimes, he would show you how humans court and then do the same thing to you

And his coworkers and boss are none the wiser when he starts finding feathers in his suit all day. They just assumed that he had a new flying type Pokemon and not a hybrid birb spouse. Even so, coming to work covered in feathers isn't professional, but he can't bring himself to tell you to stop. He knows you're doing this out of love for him. Maybe Larry will ask you if he could wear one feather and put it in his pocket.

Your feathers are just so soft when you wrap your wings around him. He can't help but cuddle into you and fall asleep. He can feel your nails thread through his hair, mimicking the way he touches you.

Before stepping into his house, he could hear the excited tapping of your feet as you do your happy dance. The little bird hops with your feathers all fluffed before yelling his name and throwing feathers all over the place. His home life has never been this exciting, and he can't help but smile.

Warden Ingo

You struggle the flap of your wings, kicking up the snow on the ground. The Searing pain in your left wing and arm is almost overwhelming. Your energy is slowly draining as your body struggles to keep warm. Your feathery down kept you from freezing for a while, but how long will that last? Has the wind begun to pick up? You hold your broken arm close to your chest, trying to keep in your subs of pain as you huddle your wings closer together, desperate to cling to any ounce of warmth; your vision blurs and your brain tells your body to conserve energy. The only thing you saw when you began to blackout was a man in a long coat approaching.

You were protective of the man who saved your life—wrapping your wings around him not only for affection but also for protection. For some reason, this human was drawn to you. Your beautiful white wings and Feathers jogging his memory of something, though not enough to figure out why.

Every time his Warden duties called, he would leave his cabin even though he had sworn he would go you home somehow, always following him, stalking him in the distance until he was alone. Then, you would appear either from a high ledge of a cliff or a dark cave to brush yourself up against him, cooing for his affection.

Every time he falls asleep, he wakes up to his jacket being stolen and wrapped around you, not that he Minds that you wear it, though he has to tell you to be careful; those sharp talons of yours could easily rip a new hole.

The Striking eyes of his remind you of a Braviary hybrid. You can't help but Preen his hair and put some of your feathers in it. You coo in Delight of how handsome he is. Cuddling close to him and playing and tugging on his clothes.

Leon

Wherever he was, this was definitely not the Pokemon Center. In fact, this wasn't a town at all. He didn't even know how he got so high up in the mountains. Leon swore he was following a path. As he continued to wander, getting himself more and more lost, it wasn't before long that the sun began to set. Still, he took this challenge with a smile despite being low on supplies. He was in the wilderness. They're sure to be some berries somewhere. However, before the sun dipped below the horizon, he saw a blur Bolt from the tree to the dense foliage. It was like lightning, but he could have sworn he saw feathers. The figure was a human shape, a hybrid, perhaps? It stood at a distance where he could barely see it. It stood there tilting its head almost as if it wanted him to follow. As he followed the creature until they were nowhere in sight, that's when he realized he was back on the path.

Almost every encounter with you was by pure chance. You don't even know how he does it; a dumb human gets lost, and then you guide him back suddenly. A month later, he's back?! What the heck?? What is this human's deal!? is he trying to get himself killed?!

You only watch the human to make sure he doesn't get himself killed, not because you think the human is attractive. And you absolutely didn't swoon when you saw that he was wearing the feather you dropped as a necklace.

But unbeknownst to you Leon wasn't just adventuring for adventuring sake he was looking for you. Oh yes the mysterious hybrid that led him back to the path on that night he met you. Hybrids are already so rare, and when you caught his eye, he couldn't help but relive the memory. He not only wanted to meet you, but he wanted to get to know you to understand you. And you were just as infatuated with him as he was with you.

Even though you're instincts told you to court him as a potential mate, you knew that as a human, he couldn't be trusted, but somehow, Leon knew that , he knew that you were wary of him. He didn't blame you. How could he? Thus begins the slow build of trust and your relationship

#Pokemon x reader #warden ingo #leon x reader #pokemon leon #larry pokemon #pokemon larry #Gym leader Larry #champion leon #pokemon headcannons #gn!reader #Pla #pokemon swsh #larry x reader

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hermit-lover · 1 year ago

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hi! just want to say that i absolutely adore your writing! always finds a way to have me latched on! o(*^▽^*)o🌺

not sure if you're taking requests right now, but may i ask for a ren x sheep hybrid!reader angst/fluff? he needs more love, especially with what's been recently going on with him irl..

just the two comforting each other; giving each other hugs, positive affirmations, all the cute fluff that i really need! (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ♡

feel free to discard this one if it feels a bit much.. no rush, of course!

remember to take care of yourself, eat and drink some water!💜

Reassurance

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

Character: Rendog x Sheep!Reader

Type: Blurb (~1.3k)

Theme: Romantic, Angst to Fluff

Summary: When the world gets to be too much, you can always find solace in each others arms.

T/Ws: Mentions of existential dread, negative events, sadness

A/N: Sorry this took me so long!! Ren does deserve more love :D

A shudder ran through your body, trying feebly to ward off the deep chill that crawled into your bones. Even with your fluffy wool, the strange cold that blanketed the sever seeped in. It been lonely recently, the other hermits busied with end-season projects. You however felt....pointless. You had nearly completed your mega base, but were in no state to do the detail work it deserved. Minigames made and played, hermit harassed...

You had nothing. Hollowness a gaping hole in your ambitions.

Well, not entirely.

A small bubble of bitter warmth built up in your chest as the thought of him slipped through. Charming smile, welcoming arms, and easy words. You missed him, but he too was feeling the end-season grind. Fluttering around his boat raceway, Rendog ignored you.

It probably wasn't his fault, the day a hermit doesn't accidentally overwork themselves is the day the earth stops turning!- You quickly shake away memories of a looming anxiety and a too-large moon. Settling instead into this paraylzing chill. The fluffy blanket- a gift from him- cradled you snugly. But it was as if your blood had turned cold. Heart to stone.

A buzz from your comm pulls you back to the dark room, soft ear twitching, screen lighting up with a notification. Hope and confusion muddles your fuzzy head. You grope for the metal box, dragging it towards you. It takes some heavy blinks in order for your pupils to adjust to the onslaught of light, but when they do- your eyes widen.

'Hey, need any help with any projects?'

...

After so long of neglect from Ren the message pulls a mixed reaction. Excitement, and anger. Your fingers dance across the keyboard without thinking.

'No. No need to bother.'

Its snarky, you know it, but your too damn tired to be polite.

'Are you sure? is everything okay? :(' His message pings back, almost instantly. You hold back a cringe, knowing somewhere deep within that lashing out is childish.

'Yes.'

Turning the comm over you stare into the dark abyss of your room. Void a welcome blanket. Covering you and hiding from the outside world. Eyes drifting shut, and you nearly pass out before a buzz jolts you. With a huff, you turn away from the intruding device, nuzzling futilely into the soft sheets. A few more buzzes pass before the pressing silence is back.

Faint birdcalls, the wind against the windows and trees outside, occasional rocket. It was soothing, but reminded you how the world goes on without you. Every hermit plunged into projects or Decked out. While your here.

Here.

Withering away pitifully. Holding back a sniffle you mourn. How did they have such endless energy? How did they deal with the increasing pressure upon their shoulders? How did Xisuma stay so ontop of everything and everyone? How was Tango constantly there for Decked out? How did Grian manage his own life games? How did-

A knock startles you. Snapping your jaw shut to hold back a bleat.

...

The stretch of uneasy silence that follows almost has you questioning if it even occurred. Maybe you were so desperate you were going mad-

"I know you're in there. If you don't want to answer that's alright I just- ...wanted to see you."

His tone is...soft. Sincere. Almost...tired. It stirs in your chest again.

...

You could never stay mad at him.

"Come in." You answer, voice scratchy from lack of use. You swallow, feeling the grit. It seems to take him a minute to realize you gave permission, but you can hear him shuffle and the door click open. It casts a rectangle of light into the dark room, His shadow outlined against the back wall. Ren stumbles inside, kicking off his shoes, and setting on the very corner of the bed. His weight makes it dip, and your heart skips a beat at having him close. Longing to untangle from the bed, and tangle into him, but pride holding you back. He smells of the cold and pine, yet the underlying scent of sweet musk and pumpkin pie like you remember. Ears twitching as he takes a deep breath, indicating your attention towards him.

"So..." Ren begins, surely picking at his cuticles like he does when he's nervous. He's almost never nervous, seeming so sure in all his actions. It hurts you to know he's hurting. Stupid empathy. "How are you doing, baby? I know its been a while since we've had time to hangout.." You huff, bitter amusement forcing a harsh smile.

"Since you've had time to hangout." you correct plainly, and he cringes.

"Right...I'm sorry, baby. I-" He takes an unsteady breath. "This isn't an excuse, but i've been having a really hard time mentally. With the raceway, some weird lingering vibeys from the king, Decked out, approaching the end of the season...It's all a lot. And I've been isolating myself and I know it." He's been having a hard time too...The realization chokes you up. He wasn't ignoring you, he was struggling, same as you. That idiot.

"Baby?-" You cut him off before he can ramble further, lunging from your blanket prison and into him, grappling and flopping backwards to pull him ontop of you. His warm skin sends goosebumps down your arms and a jolt up your spine. He allows himself to be pulled- or perhaps he was genuinely shocked. For a second he remains tense, but your soft hands and hair against him soothe away the nerves and he melts.

"You're an idiot." You scold affectionately, blunt nails drawing up and down his back. For the first time in a long time, warmth crawls beneath your skin. Heart melting from its icy prison. He grumbles, warm breath in your neck shivering pleasantly.

"I know." He relents, you make a noise of protest.

"But you're my idiot, my brilliant, adorable, amazing idiot." The words fall easy from your lips, he was truly a light in your life, and it was easy to tell him. The thumping of his tail against the plush bed brought a smile, you always found it adorable how his body betrayed him.

"Don't flatter me baby, I should be groveling to you" Ren shoots back, leaning back to meet your gaze. His eyes are like gemstones, glittering with affection, yet tinted by exhaustion. "You're wonderful, caring for me despite your own troubles. So talented in everything you put your mind towards, and you always look damn sexy doing it." He winks and you flush, hiding the embarrassed bleat with a cough. Laughing airily he leans, resting his forehead against your own. "We'll get through this slump together, alright baby?"

Humming in agreement you admire his features in the low light. Long eyelashes and quirked smile. What you wouldn't do for him.

"And, lets work on communication. Right?" You raise an eyebrow, sending a flush across his cheeks. "What? don't get sheepish on me now." You joke, a common slight towards you due to your fluffy heritage.

"No no of course not- thats your job." Ren agrees, basking in your faux annoyed eyeroll and small bleat.

"But seriously- together." You insist, smile sweet on your lips.

"Together." He agrees, he would vow himself to you a million times over, give up everything in his life should you need it, wait on your every need.

And you would do the same.

His lips are as soft as ever against your own, slightly chapped from the cold wind, but supple and plush. Ren kisses like it was the last kiss ever, pouring his heart into the connection. Sturdy, warm, caring.

Yours.

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft x reader #hermitcraft fandom #hermitblr #atlas writes #hermitcraft fic #rendog s9 #rendog x reader #rendog #renthedog #hc s9 #hc

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nekomacheercaptain · 10 months ago

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Zeke always brings a new and fun experience to the bedroom, now this time suggesting another type of DP… along with Reiner, they make sure you’re both well prepared and taken care of!

Pairing: Reiner Braun x fem! reader x Zeke Yeager

Rating: explicit mature content (18+), NSFW

Word count: 2,6K

Content warnings: fem! reader, sub! reader, threesome (mfm), fingering, DP (double penetration), vaginal sex, anal sex, slight daddy kink, praise kink, pet names (baby, sweetheart, good girl, pretty girl, angel), creampie

How did it start? How had Zeke become a natural part of your bedroom activities? How had he managed to make himself almost a permanent part of your sex life? At some point, he just decided that you had let him into your relationship… just without the relationship stuff. However, he always knew how to set the mood, bringing candles to create a more passionate scene, so the questions swimming in your mind didn’t really weigh much. Especially with the energy he brought into the bedroom.

Oh, you don’t like it when I fuck you? I can always stop

He wore a wicked smile when you desperately rejected his words and begged him to continue. It was rare for him to have you on your back, as he much preferred your ass presented right in front of him, allowing him to force Reiner’s cock down your throat with his own thrusts. Coincidentally, that was the one thing Zeke wasn’t allowed to use, as Reiner expressed concern about Zeke’s roughness and how he didn’t want your throat ruined. But 2 out of 3? Zeke didn’t mind, not one bit. Not when he made sure your throat would be bruised anyway.

Between Reiner softly holding your head in place and Zeke making sure his handprints would be visible for days, you could barely think. All you could do was let out muffled sounds and gag because of Reiner’s girth stuffed down your throat. However, you could also open your eyes to meet his intense gaze, his golden eyes fogged with pleasure. Praises fell from his lips while his thumb softly caressed your cheek, telling you how good you were for them, and how good you felt.

Meanwhile Zeke found it adorable how you would struggle to breathe when his thumb pressed against your other hole, slick with spit before circling softly. His thrusts would slow down, making sure to rub his cock against your walls sucking him in further.

Greedy little thing, she just can’t get enough

Noticing your struggle, Reiner pulled himself out of your mouth carefully, holding up your head as you grew too weak to do it yourself when Zeke’s thumb penetrated your tense muscle, wanting to stretch you out. Taking them both was a new idea introduced by Zeke, and though it required some preparation, the thought of having them both inside you, instead of being stuffed in each end, excited you. And Zeke noticed how you pressed back against him, even if it was just an instinctual reach for more pleasure. Zeke groaned, an amused chuckle teasing your ears before his freehand slapped your ass harshly.

Dirty girl, getting impatient, hm?

Reiner’s soft words sometimes got lost in Zeke’s filthy ramblings, depending on the pacing he had set. Slow and deep meant Reiner’s voice was the only one you heard, while fast and rough meant Zeke’s voice was right in your ear, forcing you through your highs. Where Reiner always traced your skin like he was scared to alter it, Zeke had realized this as his goal. He liked littering your body with reminders of him, even more so just to find them the next time he barged into your quarters. Just like he had done to introduce something that could elevate your fun. How he managed to get a hold on actual lubrication, you didn’t even want to know. Zeke was a man of many mysteries, and you had learned some things were best to be kept in the dark about.

Slowing down his thrusts completely, Zeke reached for the tube before squeezing the clear and cold jelly on your rim, laughing almost wickedly when he heard you gasp and complain about the temperature of the liquid.

“Ssh-sh, it’ll get warm soon enough, stop whining,” he teased you while pulling out his thumb. He admired your arch, his hungry eyes taking in how sensitive you were. He placed two fingers to massage your hole, before slowly entering one of them inside you, making sure it was slick enough. Reiner cupped your face and bent down to envelope your lips in a sloppy, passionate kiss, swallowing your moans as Zeke toyed with your holes.

He enjoyed how your moans and whimpers came out all muffled against Reiner’s lips, seeing your struggle to contain the pleasure overwhelming you. And Zeke being Zeke, he enjoyed being an instigator, so his intrusion became deeper and he pushed another finger inside you, stretching your hole, making your mouth open wide to gasp and let out all the noises you could in pure desperation for air. Reiner smiled down at you, still cupping your face, his thumb softly stroking your cheek.

“My good girl, is it too much for you?”. Reiner always made sure you were comfortable enough to express your concerns or wants.

With a shake of your head, Reiner smiled before giving you a small peck, leaving your lips seeking for more as he stood up just to sit beside you in the bed, his calloused hand caressing the folds of your arch, loving how soft your flesh was. He didn’t mind enjoying the view and the feel of your skin beneath his palm while Zeke fucked you. Not when your sweet noises blessed his ears anyway. Besides, he knew he could never be replaced; your relationship is secure, the both of you finding it fun whenever Zeke joined you, the war chief introducing ideas you could never have imagined on your own. Zeke brought a company of expertise, one that led to the new experiences going well and creating a space for more experimentation.

—

Reiner’s fingers soothed over the flesh of your waist as he carefully pushed you down on his cock, your knees on either side of his hips as he sat on the edge of the bed, with Zeke waiting patiently behind you.

“Good girl, always taking me so well,” Reiner praised you, remembering how you used to struggle accommodating his size when you first started being intimate. Oh how far you had come.

Your hands clung to his biceps as he filled you, broken moans falling from your lips, eyes glazed as you looked at your boyfriend. When you were sat on his lap completely, he kissed your neck as you threw your head back in a silent moan, allowing yourself time to adjust before letting them continue. Zeke took a small hold beneath your chin as he looked at you from above, before closing his eyes to place a small kiss on your forehead.

A small smile curled your lips, and you moved your hips softly, eliciting a groan from Reiner and a loud moan from yourself before your head fell down.

“Ah fuck!” your moan almost sounded like a laugh, almost lost in pleasure already.

Zeke chuckled behind you, one of his hands pressing against your back to push you closer to Reiner, while the other smeared lube around your hole before slick sounds could be heard as he pumped himself with it as well.

“Ready, baby?” Zeke whispered just behind your ear, his beard tickling your neck, as he pressed his tip against your entrance.

You gasped and nodded, “Yes, please, I’m ready! Please…”.

Zeke clicked his tongue, “Always so forgetful, isn’t she?”.

Reiner smiled softly against your neck and his tongue licked at your skin, his fingers digging further into your flesh until it pooled between his digits. Zeke pushed your head back again with his palm beneath your chin, making sure you were looking up at him.

“You’re ready, what?” the blue in his eyes reminded of the dangers of the ocean, always sure to put you in your place.

You sighed at the sudden excitement rushing through you, enjoying his domination, “I’m ready, daddy”.

He smirked before pressing his lips to yours in a rough kiss and pushed the tip of his cock past your tense muscle, relishing your shaky breaths and whimpers. Your nails dug into Reiner’s muscles and he hissed in response, his breath hot against your skin.

“Oh god, fuck - ngh- fuck-” your words came out as small cries against Zeke’s lips, and your hips instinctively moved forwards due to the unusual sensation, but Reiner’s hands kept you in place.

“Don’t run away, you can take it, can’t you?” Reiner cooed against your skin, enjoying your sounds of struggle more than he’d like to admit since he knew this was new to you.

“It’s-you’re too big,” you said through a gasp, your words almost muffled by Zeke’s lips before he allowed your head to fall to let out a small humored laugh.

“It’ll fit, trust me, you just have to be a little patient,” Zeke pushed himself further into you, being uncharacteristically slow and soft, and all you could do was take it, eyes screwed shut and mouth hanging open to let out gasps and whines. Reiner placed a final kiss to your neck before withdrawing to look at you, one of his hands cupping your face.

“It’ll feel good soon, okay?” his eyes searched for contact and he smiled when your tearful eyes found his, “You’re doing so well, sweetheart”.

You could only nod in response and lean into his touch, trying to relax your body despite how the intrusion ignited all your nerves, making you hypersensitive to the unfamiliarity. Deep breaths allowed your muscles to lose some tension, and you relaxed a little in Reiner’s arms, whimpering loudly when Zeke pressed further in before pulling out. Reiner’s eyes widened when you shrieked and hid your face in his neck when Zeke thrust gently into you, starting a small rhythm, but not forcing himself any deeper.

“That’s a good girl,” Zeke’s voice was soft, which was rare, something you appreciated. One of his hands traced down your spine while the other rested on your hip, doing everything he could to restrain himself from fucking you like he wanted, “Do you know how amazing you look like this, hm?”.

Your muscles relaxed a little more as he allowed you to adjust, a small tinge of pleasure washing over you at the change. Zeke whispered, his beard suddenly tickling your nape, “Stuffed full, like you were made just for us”.

Nodding furiously, you cry out into Reiner’s ear, “I was! I-I was made for you! Only you! Please!”.

The two men adored your carnal sounds, loving how easy you were to unravel, the both of them finding themselves smirking when their eyes met and Zeke left your nape. One of Reiner’s hands snaked down to play with your clit, feeling how swollen it was, placing it between two fingers knowing it would be too sensitive to rub directly.

“And she’s so wet,” Reiner breathed, his eyes looking down at your glistening candlelit back as you hid in his neck, “she’s already making a mess”.

And you were, your juices running down Reiner’s girth before dripping off his sack and down on the sheets below. Reiner demonstrated his statement by rubbing his fingers gently, already encouraging loud, embarrassing squelching to fill the room.

“Reiner…” you whimpered and shuddered at his action, jolting forwards as his touch elicited electric sparks up your spine. Zeke chased your hips and pushed in deeper, making your mouth hang open in a silent scream while your nails drew blood from Reiner’s arms. The feeling of intrusion softly changed, a cocoon of warmth opening in your core and wings of pleasure spreading throughout your body. With labored breaths battling through moans, a mixture of the men’s names were muffled into Reiner’s neck, and Zeke didn’t correct you. Why would he when you were taking them so well, and sounded like an angel while doing it?

Reiner’s hips started a small rhythm beneath you, carefully timed with Zeke’s, and he only chuckled when drool melted down his neck and chest, while your voice purred against his skin with nothing but sounds of euphoria. The raw pleasure ripping through your body made your fingers loosen their grip, throwing your arms around Reiner to support yourself instead, grasping at the short hair you could as you cradled his head. Reiner purred your name while softly moving his fingers, allowed to worship your neck again, his tongue licking at your salty skin before kissing softly where he knew he’d make you mewl for him.

“So perfect, princess, letting us know just how much you like it, sucking us in,” Zeke groaned while speeding up, adoring how your warm, gummy walls embraced him.

“Tell us how good you feel,” Reiner’s low voice vibrated against your throat, before nipping at the lobe of your ear, “can you do that, angel?”.

Shaking your head, you could only muster sounds as their cocks thrusted into you, and you swore you could feel them rub against each other even with a wall of tissue dividing them. Unable to speak because of their sweet assault on your body, you could only cry in pleasure as you felt yourself get close to your climax, both of them moaning at the inconsistent fluttering around their cocks.

Zeke laughed lowly and Reiner only smiled, rubbing his fingers faster around your clit, “Cum for us, sweetheart, don’t hold back”.

His deep voice was like honey in your ears, dripping with raw lust before Zeke joined in as well, and you didn’t have to look at him to know what kind of grin he was wearing while his hair was all sweaty and slicked back, “Go on, pretty girl, listen to your boyfriend”.

With every sensation combined, it didn’t take long until you shook against them, your holes pulsing around their girths; their cocks pistoning into you, Reiner’s fingers deliberate circling, his lips worshiping your neck, and then their voices to top it off, you were being thiuroghly fucked through the most mind-blowing orgasm you had experienced.

—

Which one filled you first escaped your notice, as Reiner held you tightly in his arms when you came to, his back against the bed, cock softening against your rear. His calloused hands raked softly down your back and he kissed the top of your head when he felt you move.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he mumbled, smiling as he looked at you, pink flushing his cheeks still.

“Hi..”

“You did so well,” he said softly, “did you feel good? Were we too careless?”.

He always asked you in the aftermath, like you didn’t just pass out from pleasure.

“It was good,” an exhausted smile met him, “really good”.

“Right? Told ya it would feel incredible,” Zeke’s voice boomed as he emerged from the bathroom with wet rags, stopping a moment just to look at the view in front of him. Your ass facing him, your hole gaping slightly, his cum oozing down to mix with Reiner’s before ultimately staining the sheets. Zeke clicked his tongue before chuckling.

“Dirty, dirty girl,” he walked closer and put the wet rag against you before cleaning you softly, ignoring the urge to tease your sore and sensitive parts, “letting us do such filthy things to you”.

You sighed and moaned slightly when his fingers helped the rags clean your folds as well as he could, before he threw the rag away somewhere you didn’t care enough to register. Zeke plopped down further up the bed, and with grunts and whines, you crawled up to him, Reiner following and hugging your waist while you rested your head on Zeke’s chest.

How all this had started didn’t matter at all. Not when you fell asleep with two strong sets of arms keeping you warm.

Author’s note: It’s been some time since my last threesome with these, and this time I am actually attracted to Zeke! And it's been a whie since I've posted a fic at all.. A lot can happen when your life gets in the way and burst an organ… Anyway, thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed it!

If you want to join my taglist, you can find it here!

#reiner braun #zeke yeager #reiner braun x reader #zeke yeager x reader #reiner braun x reader x zeke yeager #attack on titan #aot #sinful #my work #aot x reader #x reader

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peiskos-and-apricity · 4 months ago

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Fated to Fall ~ Sindri x Reader [Pt 8]

Tw: Cannon Typical Violence | Somewhat Graphic Mention of Gore

A/n: yet another not fully edited chapter. It's been so long now since I've updated this and it is mostly because I hate editing and it takes forever. So anyway, there might be some grammar mistakes. Please overlook these and enjoy! (Also I changed the cover art. I think I like the pixel art version better)

|Chapter Selection|

|Previous|

Blood and viscera spilled in every direction as you continued forward, trying to find your way to where the others had run off. You were successful in fighting off the hoards of Einherjar with only minor injuries, but as you tried to run further towards the sounds of familiar voices in the distance, they only seemed to draw farther and farther away; Up until you couldn't hear anyone but yourself and the Einherjar that surrounded you.

It was then you knew that you were in far more trouble than either of them were. Separated and lost, surrounded on all ends by endless hoards of enemies. So you soon abandoned the goal of finding them as you instead searched for any way out of this horrid place. For a while that too seems like an impossible task that stretched further and further from your reach. Then finally, just when you think you might not ever find a way out of the endless maze, you spot sunlight.

The way up isn't clear, frankly it seems it isn't a way one is supposed to get out of as much as it is a way to fall in. But at this point, covered in blood and bifrost, you're desperate to get out of this cesspit of Odin's army. And so you begin to scale the wooden and dirt walls. It is harder than you would have liked, and you nearly fall a couple of times when Einherjar notice where you've gone and begin to throw things at you. But be it by luck or pure endurance you somehow manage to pull yourself out of this hole in the ground. Scathed, tired and somehow still not regretting your decision to tag along on this trip.

Your relief was incredibly short lived, however, when the creatures of Svartalfheim come to get their piece of you. At this point your skin is near searing from both the heat of this wet, humid, dreadful place and the irritation that threatened to turn to bright golden anger. A metallic taste begins to take over your tongue as your vision mixes into a yellow color, a sure sign that your cloak was working even after all these years.

When you beat the beasts away and finally manage to find a moment of calm in the violence, you make an attempt to calm the fire that had grown under your skin and near begged to be set free. You were almost dizzy with adrenaline by then, making the task more than difficult. All the same you found a way to silence the flame, even if only temporarily, leaving it as only a low simmer under your skin.

It's then you find the energy to stand, where upon you finally feel the many injuries that litter your being. You let out a huffed sigh, the soreness of your body quite the inconvenience. You can already hear Kratos' scolding, already beginning to see how he might plan to trap you back with the dwarves the next time he planned to leave. The thought alone ruins the peace you had tried to bring yourself, the golden flecks snatched by the shadowed insides of your cloak the moment they appeared.

It was best you didn't think of this right now. You had other problems to deal with, mainly the fact that you had no idea where the others were and no way of getting back on your own. So you push the pain to the back of your mind, reminding yourself that you'd deal with it on your own later, before beginning to search the small island for the others.

You do this for quite a while, turning down many different corners and walkways, trying to find any sign of life that wasn't immediately hostile towards you. Eventually you hear arrows flying and creatures gargling their last breaths. You wander that direction, trying to stay out of view just in case it was more Einherjar.

"What if they're still in there? What if they can't get out!" you hear Atreus' voice first, another of his arrows loosening into the neck of one those disgusting creatures, unaware that one is coming up right behind him. Kratos' back is turned, Tyr is no where to be seen.

"I'm sure they've made it out somehow lad, we just have to- behind you!" Just as the creature goes to attack him you throw your ax at full force, the blade spinning before lodging directing in the side of the creatures head, it's body falling limp as Atreus pushes the falling body away from him. You watch as each of their heads snap back into your direction. For a moment they both reach for their weapons, though its only a moment later that they realize it's only you.

"Y/n!" Atreus calls to you excitedly and you somehow find the energy to wave in acknowledgment of his words. His look falls quickly when he notices the sheer amount of blood that covers you.

"Oh...looks like you had a rough time in there" he states the obvious. You catch up to them and try to avoid Kratos' stare.

"What gave it away?" Despite how much you try to hide it there is still a sharpness to your tone.

"Maybe try not to run off like that in the future" you politely suggest before giving him a light bump on the shoulder. He looks immediately guilty.

"Is the coast clear? Are they gone?" A frightened voice you hardly recognize calls from a set of bushes nearby. You are more than a little surprised to see the tall, goldened eyed old god pull himself to his feet and peak through shaking hands. Atreus must have seen the look on your face with strained smile he tried to comfort you with.

"Yeah, we should be good" Atreus answers him. With tentative footsteps this contradiction of a god steps forward, eyes catching yours as you desperately try to hide the utter confusion on your face.

"Ah, you must be the one we were looking for. Y/n is it?" He asks, the worry slowing leaving his posture.

"Yes. And you...are no longer running?" you announce your observation as a question, one that seems to make him a little nervous again.

"I was...unwell. my mind- it isn't what it used to be" he reasons and you can't help but feel a little bad for him.

"We all lose ourselves sometimes. In all honesty I'm surprised to see you as well as you are, considering you've been thought dead for so long" you try to give him leeway, a hint of breathing room so that he might grow a little more comfortable.

"I appreciate the kindness" he returns your courtesy. It is then that Kratos makes his way over, pushing past Tyr without hardly any care and standing much closer to you than you would have prefered. His eyes glance over your entire being before staring straight into your eyes. Silence is all there is for a moment as your pull enough of your strength together to stand tall and proud in front of him, trying your best to hide away the soreness that covered every inch of your being. Eventually, thank Ymir, he speaks.

"You are well?" He asks, voice rough and perhaps a little agitated. You answer with a nod, still not backing down from him in the slightest. He stares for just a second longer before giving a firm nod, a slight grumble and turning right back around. You let out a quiet sigh of relief before the five of you move along, following Kratos' silent lead.

"The hel you doin?" Broks voice makes the gold plated dwarf jump out of his focused state for just long enough to wave a hand and grumble at him.

"Busy" he manages a word, his hands moving quickly over a page, trying to keep his work consistent. Brok tsks at this.

"Oh. So when you're busy with somethin'-"

"Sh!" Sindri suddenly shushed him, his head popping up as he folds his work and pauses to listen.

"Oh yer really asking for-"

"Sh! Shut up!" Sindri yells, hands held up to silence him, an action that baffles Brok into actually listening for a moment. It's long enough for Sindri to hear voices.

"They're back!" He announces as he makes haste to the front door, Brok lingering behind at the workbench. When Sindri opens the doors he's met with a sight he truly hadn't believed was possible.

"Lord Tyr? You're really alive!" Sindri manages to speak past his astonishment.

"Am I, I wonder?" He answers and that certainly throws Sindri off quite a bit.

"Okay?" The word slips past his lips, his sudden hesitance not at all hidden.

"He's just tired," Atreus tries to assure him.

"I promised him some food and a room to rest in" the boys promise was expected, though Sindri couldn't help the small voice of annoyance that bit at him anyway. His home was becoming quite crowded and crowded meant more messes, which meant more cleaning, which meant more encounters with whatever viscera they brought in. He could imagine it already.

"Ah, of course you did" he tried his best to not let his annoyance show too much. He was, after all, in the presence of two Gods of war. Best not to go stepping on any toes.

"Well, let's see what we can do. Please, come inside" he invites them all in despite the itch of disgust that comes with the dirt and grime that follows.

"Uh, we'll be right in!" Atreus waves him off before shutting the door behind Tyr. He sees the giant of a god turn over his shoulder for just a moment to glance at the shut door.

"Well I'll be!" Brok, hands on his hips and the widest grin on his face, speaks up.

"Hello" Tyr speaks to him, but it is an extra moment before the god actually turns to face Brok at all.

"Well get your ass on over here! I'll get those cuffs off ya" his brother beckons him and Tyr goes without any complaint. To Sindri's horror, Brok stands on the workbench.

"Brok!" He yells, the blue dwarf barely turning to meet his eyes before focusing back on Tyr.

"Get these off'n no time. You just gotta stay put" his brother completely ignores him and Sindri sends him daggers before he swallows his disdain and simply adds it to the list of chores he's racking up. His arms cross as he holds himself back from boiling over, his eyes instead turning to the front door as he waited.

A moment later Kratos and Atreus enter, though he notices that you don't. He goes to questions where you might be but he catches a glimpse of you just as the door shuts. His mind floods with questions, most of them curious as to what the three of you talked about and why exactly you decided you didn't want to come inside. It was getting late after all and he was sure you must be tired by now, or at the very least wanting to rest. Especially after that little escapade.

All of the questions are thrown out the window, however, when he catches a far too familiar look in Atreus' eyes.

"See? Sleep tight Tyr. I'm gonna turn in. Big day tomorrow" Atreus avoids turning to anyone in particular as he makes haste to his room. Sindri knows right then that he's up to no good.

You sit in the quiet of the outside as the others turn in for the night. Your body is worn and tired but you knew even now that sleep would not come easy. You didn't want to bother with trying, as you weren't particularly in the mood to toss and turn in silence. You decided it best to just start with the carving Sindri had wanted, hoping to distract yourself with the small thing. You had thought, perhaps foolishly, that you would find peace here. The others would sleep and you would be allowed to let your conscious waiver into pure focus. Just you, the swiping of your small blade and the slight chewing in the distance.

You really should have known the boy wouldn't stay put.

"Let's just go talk to the snake first and then-"

"Sh!" Voices, just a few feet away. Some horrible attempt at whispering, you think. You continue with your carving, hoping to figure out just what they thought they were doing.

"Oh...Oh well, looks like we can't go. Why don't we just turn around and-"

"Hold on. It's just Y/n" to their credit they did grow quieter. But still, not exactly the most discrete.

"I think I have an idea. Just play along," you simply can't wait to see what he's going to come up with this time. Somehow he still manages to surprise you, though, when he oh so confidently stands from behind the gate.

"Hey, Y/n!" He calls over to you, trying to get your attention, though he kept his voice just quiet enough to not be heard inside. You allow a second before you turn to him.

His smile is lopsided: deceptive. A look you've grown to recognize quickly, considering how many times you've had to dig him out of the trouble he's made when that look crosses his face. He waves you over and you can only sigh before sliding the tools in your hands back into your bag and going to find out what he was going to get himself into now.

"Not tired?" You ask him. He laughs in a way too nervous for you not to miss.

"I was...going to ask you that" his smile isn't hiding anything well. You give a glance at Sindri who almost immediately avoids your eyes before turning back to Atreus.

"A little, if you must know. I can imagine you feel the same" you watch the boy grow a little more confident at your answer. He hadn't caught that you were just playing along yet.

"Yeah. I just wanted to check on you before going to bed. You need sleep too, y'know" you would have felt quite touched if he wasn't lying straight to your face.

"Oh? And what about you Sindri?" You ask, turning to the dwarf

"Just coming to check in on me?" Your eyes are fixated on him as he just absolutely fumbles on his words. A mixture of half sounds and stray noises that might be considered sentences in the loosest term. Finally it seems he manages something coherent.

"I was just making sure he wasn't getting himself into trouble!" He blurts out. You almost feel bad with how nervous your stare had made him, so you turn back to Atreus.

"And I'm assuming you want me to head inside then?" You ask and he immediately lights up. He thinks he's gotten somewhere. He thinks you don't know him by now.

"I think it would probably be for the best. We've all got a big day tomorrow!" You watch him become even slightly convincing at the last possible moment. You smile as you cross your arms. You had to admit, it was a cute attempt.

"Was that your plan?" He's hit with confusion.

"What do you mean?" He shifts where he stands.

"You were going to try and send me to bed before sneaking off" you watch as he crumbles, utterly lost at what to say for a moment before he lets out a huff.

"No!" he retorts and he gets a raise of an eyebrow from you.

"Would you like to try something else, then?" you see him freeze, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He can't find his words and it seems Sindri couldn't take it any longer.

"We are going to find Jörmungandr!" he finally admits, Atreus turning to him as if he had betrayed him.

"That's all?" You ask, eyes turning between the both of them. Atreus seems defeated, his head hung low and his shoulders with it. He manages a mumbled response.

"And Freya" at that you are truly shocked.

"You...want to find Freya? The woman that has been trying to kill us for all of Fimbulwinter?" You are beyond baffled. What possible reason would he have to seek her out? In what way could that ever go well in his head?

"That's what I was trying to tell him!" Sindri pipes in again and the boys face scrunches. His eyes meet yours with a sharp look only hindered slightly with the puppy eyes he so readily used against everyone.

"We need allies! And we used to be friends! I don't think she's beyond reasoning, she's just-..." the boy tries to defend himself and it isn't convincing in the slightest. You sigh, knowing that this couldn't possibly go well.

"You aren't going to let this go, are you?" Your answer is his continued stare at you, eyes fully ready to do what he must to get what he wants. If you had to describe this stubborn boy in one word it would be bull-headed. It seemed there were no amount of no's that could stop him. A glance down at Sindri shows he's just as worried as you are.

"I want you to know that this is reckless. And foolish. And downright stupid" your words have a bite to them that has Atreus looking away, avoiding looking at you all together. You take a deep breath before you continue.

"But if you must then I know you will. So I will do the bare minimum of at least accompanying you" they both seemed relieved at your words. You imagine for completely different reasons.

"And you're not going to tell father?" He asks, finally stepping out from the other side of the gate.

"Do you really think this is the first time I've caught you sneaking out?" his eyes turn as wide as a full moon.

"...well until you said that; kinda, yeah" You snicker at his reaction and begin walking to the gateway with them not too far behind. The boy falls into silence for a moment before he turns up, a question written in his eyes.

"How many times did you-?"

"More times than I cared to count" you speak over your shoulder as you wave the two along. You try to ignore the dull wounds that still haven't fully healed themselves.

You had to admit, despite the odd Draugr and getting covered in Jörmungandr's disgusting slobber, this little outing was proving to be rather fun. You stayed quiet, for the most part, but enjoyed the babbling of the two as they went along with this little adventure of theirs. It was quite sweet, the relationship they had built. If you were being honest it was nice to see Atreus a little less tense, given how rigid he always was around his father. However, by the time the three of you were heading towards where Freya was last seen, you couldn't help but regret having let him get this far.

“All I'm saying, Atreus, is that she clearly isn't stable. You don't know what she might do. Just because she liked you before doesn't mean-”

“Look, I get the concern but you gotta trust me. She might be Hel bent on killing father, but she hasn't really tried to kill me yet. She's-…She just needs to understand we were trying to help her. And that the bigger threat is Odin” He must truly believe he's untouchable.

“In her mind she has every reason to kill you. To do the same to Kratos as he has done to her. Do you not worry at all that she would take every opportunity imaginable? She believes she has nothing to lose” you try once again to waiver him from this reckless goal.

“She wouldn't. She's better than that” By all living gods was he stubborn. You hardly remembered a time he'd ever wavered from his convictions. A double-sided blade, that trait is. You hoped today wouldn't be the day he killed himself with it.

“You are impossible” you speak with a defeated sigh. Slowly the three of you walk to a sudden edge, a steep drop below. You have no problems bracing it, hardly even thinking about it. Turning back, however, you see the two of them hesitate. It's then you realize the jump might be a little steep for the dwarf.

“Perhaps this is a sign” he mutters, his eyes cautious as he stares into the opening.

“Don't be a baby, I'll catch you! Promise not to drop you this time” Atreus’ words catch your attention as he falls to your side, an almost amused look creeps on your face.

“You've dropped him?” You ask and the boy hardly hides his guilt with a nervous laugh.

“It was one time!” he tries to defend himself. A glance up shows just how embarrassed Sindri is by this.

“It was the only time!” You fight back a short laugh, only allowing a small smile to take form as you stare up at the dwarf.

“If it makes you feel any better, I'll also be here to catch you this time” you tried to instill even a slight bit of confidence in him, though he still seemed deeply uneasy.

“I…” his voice wavers, still incredibly unsure about all of this. You almost immediately catch the boy about to be a smartass and quickly knock the sentence from him with a light hit on the back of his head.

"Hey-!" He turns to glare at you but your stare seems to disintegrate any resistance. Once you're sure he's going to keep his mouth shut you turn back up to Sindri.

“Worst thing that could happen is we both fall down” you try to reassure him.

“And I break my skull open!” He retorts. You huff a little.

“Look, I know Atreus’ promises mean very little-”

“Wha- That's not true!” The boy speaks up and you fail to fight a grin when he shoves you slightly, but you continue all the same, even if a chuckle is heard through your words.

“But my promises are as solid as steel, and I promise that it will be fine” your eyes lock on his and even through you jest you know he sees that you're serious. So, with a deep breath and tense posture, he finally agrees.

“Fine” he speaks through gritted teeth and both you and Atreus hold your arms out. It's only a few moments later he jumps. With little effort the two of you catch him.

“See? Was that so bad?” Atreus speaks to him and you send a smile as you help him back to his feet. It's clear though that he is still very unhappy with the situation.

“I sincerely hope I never have to do it again, if that's what you're asking”

Tag list

@emmbny

#gow #god of war #gow ragnarok #gowr #gow sindri #god of war x reader #god of war sindri #gow x reader #gow sindri x reader #fated to fall #gow kratos #gow atreus #gow kratos & reader #gow atreus & reader #sindri x reader #god of war sindri x reader #sindri #gow fanfic

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circledemptiness · 19 days ago

Text

Can't Get You Out Of My Head – Chapter 5 – Final chapter

Fandom: Batman (Arkham Knight) Pairing: Edward Nigma (The Riddler) x Reader Rating: Explicit +18 Tags: Angst, Romance, Slow Burn, Oral sex, Hate sex (kind of but not really), Unprotected sex

The pressure between you and Edward intensifies as surprising news about his sentence surfaces. As the tension between you escalates, and with your patience nearing its end, is healing finally within reach?

✦ Chapter index ✦ Read on AO3

Hey Eddie. I love you but…

There’s a constant humming in the hobby room as the inmates play and interact, but you can't quite focus enough to discern what they’re talking about. Your thoughts begin to drift elsewhere as you stare through the bay window at the center of the room, watching the dead trees shed their leaves; a stark reminder that colder days are drawing near.

It hits you, with a sting in your chest, that it’s been almost a year since you were admitted to Arkham. A year since your life was turned upside down, marked by the chaos of this unstable environment, the relentless noise, the looming presence of guards, rigid schedules, and the emotionally draining therapy sessions.

As you reflect on the past year, you wonder if anything meaningful has come from it. A sense of bitterness creeps in as you realize that, in a strange way, the isolation has forced you to confront yourself, something you never did in your old life. Yet, the thought unsettles you. Your heart tightens, your throat constricts, as you can’t help but question just how much working for the Riddler has scarred you, leaving marks that might never heal.

Opening the tall window to the courtyard, you inhale the cold, crisp air. Instantly, you’re reminded of all the things you miss; the warmth of hot chocolate, cozy blankets, and the colorful, festive lights that used to line the streets of Gotham. You miss having a home, a place where the end of the year felt worth celebrating. While you’ve started to notice some decorations –a few garlands and even a tree in the hobby room– you can’t shake the feeling that this place will never feel like home, not the way it seems to for some of the long-time inmates.

Zipping up your facility jacket, you step into the courtyard, watching your breath form small clouds in the frigid air. The cold feels soothing against your flushed skin, a balmy caress for your frayed nerves. You find a bench and settle in as comfortably as possible, observing the few inmates strolling around. The tall trees seem to glow under the afternoon sun, while the sky above is more white than blue. This moment of calm is exactly what you needed after the emotional storm of your lunch break. For a brief, fleeting moment, you feel yourself settle, as if you’re finding your center again.

But merciful moments are rare in Arkham. Just as you begin to settle, you feel a presence approaching, and before you even turn your head, you sigh in defeat. By the time Edward sits down beside you, the brief calm you’d found has already begun to crumble. You avoid looking at him, yet you can sense the intensity of his gaze weighing on you. He holds his silence for a moment, as if searching for the right words, but you find that you lack the energy to feel anything but fatigue. The emotional toll of the day has left you indifferent, and his presence barely registers in your weary mind.

“Did I offend you?” he finally asks, his voice almost soft, as if he genuinely cares. The question makes you feel nauseous, stirring a deep desire for him to leave you alone forever, to let you sink into a depressive hole and throw a pity party until all that’s left is numbness and apathy. Instead, you simply shrug in response, and he hums, the sound filling the silence. There’s a pregnant pause between you. Almost merciful.

You hear Edward clear his throat, and from the corner of your eye, you catch him looking down at his feet, working his jaw as he chooses his words carefully. You can almost see the gears turning in his mind, and a strange feeling stirs within you at the sight of him acting so cautiously, almost gently. It feels out of place; you don’t want his gentleness. You want the familiar bite of indifference.

“James Gordon has been visiting me lately,” he announces bluntly, as if there’s no other way to put it. You turn your head, brow furrowing in perplexed curiosity, eager for more information. Yet he still doesn’t meet your gaze, his eyes fixed on the trees before you.

“He insists it’s a waste to let me rot and wither away in here. Says that my… mind could be employed in the service of the greater good.”

You blink owlishly, letting his words sink in before you find your words.

“What kind of greater good is he talking about?” You clear your throat, and Edward hums in response, leaning back against the bench as he gazes at the sky.

“He thinks I would be of great use if I returned to their ranks.”

“At the Cyber Crime Division?” you ask, your tone laced with surprise, as you view his previous position as well beneath his competences. Edward smiles and chuckles silently.

“Not quite. On the field. Detective work.”

You can’t help but gape in disbelief, words escaping you as you look at him, utterly stunned. Edward tilts his head to the side, a smile playing on his lips as he observes your likely ridiculous expression, one eyebrow raised in amusement at your silence.

“You, helping to solve cases?” you finally blurt out. Edward snorts.

“Would it be so ludicrous?” He looks at you now, his expression perfectly neutral, as if studying your reaction. Perhaps seeking your approval. Another pregnant pause stretches between you. No, it wouldn’t be ludicrous. He could do anything he set his mind to with his intelligence. He could achieve great things –you know it. Yet, you struggle to believe he’s capable of transitioning from a decade of crime to genuinely helping society.

“And how… how does that make you feel?” you tentatively ask. Edward inhales deeply, his gaze drifting back to the horizon as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He lifts an eyebrow at himself, as if uncertain how to articulate his thoughts, the confession heavy on his tongue.

“Conflicted, I’m sure you can imagine. However… I’m old. And tired.” You can’t help but chuckle at his honesty, and even he smirks at his own words before his expression turns serious again. “I used to be angry all the time. While I can’t say that sentiment has entirely left me… the past year has given me much to ponder.”

You hum in response, listening attentively and allowing him to speak at his own pace.

“I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that I’ve failed. On many levels,” he continues, his emerald eyes flicking to you in a way that sends warmth coursing through you. The emphasis isn’t lost on you, nor is the way your heart tightens in your chest as you press your lips into a thin line.

“They are still contemplating this option. My progress here will dictate my future. Should it be accepted, I might find myself freed sooner than anticipated,” he finally says, a shy smile playing on his lips. A burning question simmers in the back of your mind, obvious and insistent, one you’re not sure you really want to confront. Yet your heart screams louder, as it so often does.

“How much sooner?” you almost whisper, your voice laced with uncertainty, like a tiny, minuscule mouse. Edward only shrugs in response.

“I’m not entirely sure myself. Possibly in five, six years.”

You think about how your own sentence ends sometime next year, and suddenly your breathing becomes unsteady, your mind spinning. You can’t quite articulate what you’re feeling. Only that a gnawing pit of anguish is growing behind your navel. In a desperate attempt to dispel your anxiety, you resort to humor.

“So that’s why you’re on the good boy floor now?”

Edward glances at you and smiles, shaking his head in amusement. It stirs something within you. You return his smile, maintaining eye contact in a way that feels too familiar for your taste, before your frown returns. “Do... the others know?”

The “others”, of course, refer to his peers. His colleagues, the most notorious criminals of Gotham. It’s a fair question, all things considered. Edward nods slowly.

“They aspire to rehabilitate us, a concept that does not sit well with everyone. However, some are already considering a different path. Cobblepot plans to leave Gotham and embark on a fresh start. He’s talking about creating a small business in Metropolis. Something legal, something tranquil.” Edward smiles fondly when he talks about the Penguin’s plan, as if sharing his view for a better future.

“Old and tired?” you joke, and Edward grimaces jokingly.

It feels nice, this quasi truce between you two; perhaps it simply transports you back to a time when you felt a genuine connection. A time before he left you behind, before he shattered your trust and broke your heart. The memory stings like a fresh wound, and the thought gnaws at you, twisting your stomach into an uncomfortable knot. You instinctively look down at your feet, hoping to ground yourself in the present and escape the cruel memories.

Edward shifts beside you, his worried gaze fixed on you, as he works the inside of his cheek, searching for the right words. But do such words even exist? The silence stretches uncomfortably, amplifying the weight of unsaid apologies and unresolved feelings. You wish he would at least try; try to offer a proper, genuine apology, something that acknowledges the pain he caused. Is he even capable of that, of apologizing?

You suddenly feel warmth spreading across your back, right between your shoulder blades, where his hand rests flat; immobile and cautious. Despite the gentleness of his touch, it hurts. Burns. The weight of it feels so heavy that you can hardly breathe. As if you’ve lost the desire for it, the opportunity has vanished, leaving your heart fortified and unwilling to open to him any longer.

“Please don’t,” you murmur, your voice weak and trembling as tears begin to swell in your eyes. He doesn’t protest or offer a smug taunt as he removes his hand with the same gentleness with which he laid it.

You can’t simply allow things to return to normal as if nothing ever happened. Surely, he must understand this; he’s not so socially inept that he wouldn’t understand it, even you can see that. No matter how tempting it is to forgive and forget, you know you must prioritize loving yourself first. Edward clears his throat, drawing in a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what comes next.

“For what it’s worth… This past year, I couldn’t get you out of my head.”

Tears roll down your cheeks like capricious pearls, leaving trails on your flushed skin. You wish hearing those words would bring you some solace, but instead, it only intensifies your pain. In fact, it makes everything feel worse, igniting a simmering rage in your stomach and a deep sense of injustice that’s hard to ignore.

“You abandoned me. You abandoned me because you were scared,” you whisper harshly, the words cutting through the tension like a knife. For some reason, this strikes a nerve, and you can see his demeanor shift. Annoyance flickers across his face, as if your words have pricked at something deep within him.

“And I have already expressed that my actions were unwarranted. Do you not recall, just before you chose to expose yourself so indecently? Damn it, what is it that you want from me?” his tone is stern, bordering on anger, but you’re too furious to notice the subtle nuances. How dare he. How very dare he. He throws his head back, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, as if he’s the one entitled to feel offended right now; as if he’s the one who deserves closure and wishes to move on. It’s as though his mediocre apology could somehow erase all the damage he’s inflicted on your relationship.

“You’re an asshole,” you finally say as you rise from the bench, wiping your tear-streaked eyes on the sleeve of your coat. Edward lets out a deep, almost dramatic sigh. Fuck him.

Hey Eddie, please get out of my head.

You didn’t want to go to movie night. In fact, you didn’t want to leave your cell at all. But Denis practically dragged you along, insisting his other friend had bailed, leaving an empty seat beside him. So, you go. Tonight’s feature is an old science fiction movie, the kind with charmingly outdated practical effects that you usually find endearing. But tonight, you can’t summon the energy to care. The joy just isn’t there. You’re not even sure if Edward is watching the movie; you didn’t bother paying attention to your surroundings, and you don’t care either way. You’re just a ball of deep apathy.

When you return to your floor, you realize he wasn’t in the amphitheater at all. Instead, you find him waiting by your cell, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Waiting for you. You let out a deep, frustrated sigh, glaring at him. His eyes meet yours, and to your surprise, they mirror the same intensity; perhaps anger, or maybe it’s frustration, a deep-rooted irritation that feels like it’s about to snap.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” you eventually say in a voice that’s supposed to be calm but might be laced with a slight tremor.

“I can’t keep playing this… this game with you. We can’t keep circling around our problem, pretending it doesn’t exist,” he retorts, pointedly ignoring your previous protest. A terrible anger flares up inside you, and you jab your index finger into his shoulder, earning a startled, wide-eyed look from him.

"Seems like that’s your problem to deal with," you snap. "Goodnight."

Without waiting for a response, you walk around him, purposefully ignoring whatever expression might have flashed across his face, and head straight for your cell. But just before the door closes behind you, Edward shoves it open, slipping inside with you. He closes the door and leans against it, blocking the exit. You glare at him in disbelief, your voice a low growl.

“Get out! You’re not allowed in other people’s–”

In one swift, forceful motion, Edward seizes your wrist effortlessly, yanking you across the room and pinning you against the cold metal door. Your front slams into it with a harsh thud, and you let out a furious grunt, kicking your legs back wildly, trying to strike any part of him you can reach. He holds firm, easily restraining both of your arms behind you with one hand, while the other presses your face against the unyielding surface. Should you have let his raw strength built from years of hard work escape your thoughts, his touch makes sure you remember, stirring something dark and deep within your core.

“Edward, what the–?!”

"What do you want me to do? Beg?" His breath is hot against your cheek as he grips you, hissing the words into your ear, his voice a harsh, furious whisper, intimate in a way that feels deeply unsettling, almost inappropriate. His chest presses tightly against your back, pinning you in place, leaving you helpless to do more than squirm in his iron grip. Your hands, trapped against his stomach, can feel the tension in his taut muscles, his breath coming in heavy, controlled bursts.

A sickening churn starts low in your belly; something vicious and raw, something that should definitely not be here. No matter how much you huff or protest, his hold remains relentless, nearly feral.

"That would be a good start! Why don’t you try kneeling for once?!" you growl, your voice low and threatening, baring your teeth at him as you press your face against the door, straining to meet his gaze, to truly let him see the fury burning in your eyes.

But instead, it's his own stare that captivates you; a darkness clouded by a violent sentiment. It might be anger, but you can clearly see something so much deeper, something much more dangerous lurking beneath the surface. It's a restrained emotion, crumbling at the edges, the last thread of his resolve unraveling right in front of you.

At your words, he smirks; a devilish smile that should terrify you, yet it ignites a dangerous heat deep within your core, a flicker of excitement mingled with fear. In a swift motion, his hands release their grip on you only to seize your waist instead, his fingers digging in with a possessive intensity. In an instant, he grabs the waistband of your pants, the air thickening with tension as the world around you seems to blur.

"I can do that," he snarls right in your ear, the words the only menacing warning you get before Edward drops to his knees, brutally yanking down your pants and underwear with him, taking you by surprise.

You stifle a yelp, your mind racing as the gravity of the situation crashes down on you. Before you can fully grasp what’s happening or gather your wits to react, one of his hands presses firmly against your lower back, pinning you against the door with a force that radiates both impatience and a dark, hateful desire.

You pant heavily, like a fucking dog, and you feel traped, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps. You can’t even comprehend why; you were meant to hate him, to despise everything about him. So why do you feel so overwhelmed right now, why are you arching your fucking back to press yourself closer to him? Why are you almost whimpering when both of his hands grip the plush flesh of your ass, the sensation sending shockwaves through your body?

Your hands scramble for purchase against the cold metal door, nails digging into its dull surface as your eyes widen in horror and confusion. A whirlwind of emotions swirls within you, each more devastating than the last, leaving you breathless and bewildered.

You feel utterly possessed, your breath coming in loud, ragged gasps as your eyes widen like two shining diamonds, even before he’s truly touched you. When his fingers sink into the flesh of your ass, you bite down on your arm to stifle a scream, but it’s futile. He spreads you wide open in a crude and obscene display, allowing him to see all your most intimate parts.

Horror washes over you, a cold wave of dread, as you feel your cunt throb with an expectant heat radiating from your pulsating hole. The sensation is overwhelming, a betrayal of your own body; but you’re even more horrified knowing that he can probably see it, see all of it, see how your body responds to him.

“Insufferable, needy little thing,” he snarls, and that’s all the warning you receive before you feel the flat of his tongue trailing a long, hot stripe from your already swollen, humiliatingly wet cunt to your puckered, twitching asshole. The unexpected sensation forces a loud, devastating moan to escape your lips, and your legs tremble from the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your core.

Edward seems to be in an equally feral state, his tongue parting your soft folds that hang like tempting, engorged fruits. You can’t help but arch your back further, granting him better access to your entire anatomy. He scoffs mockingly, as if indignantly reacting to your crude display, but the growl that follows, and the way he eagerly plunges his tongue deep into your aching hole, tells you he has no real complaints.

You suppress your sobs, burying your mortified face in the cocoon of your arms as the tip of his tongue seeks out your throbbing pearl, flushed and oh so sensitive, his nose buried against your waiting entrance.

It’s a sensation you had only dreamed of back then, when you worked for him; those late nights spent desperately lonely in your infuriatingly cold bed, fingers working you to completion far too many times to count. Yet, you had never imagined him harboring such raw passion within him.

Your sobs grow insistent as you rock your hips against his face, craving more of his intoxicating touch. He responds eagerly, swirling his tongue more ferociously around your taut clit. His hands knead your ass while his mouth finds your swollen lips again, greedily swallowing them, suckling and pulling in a way that makes your core twitch and your voice break.

Grunts escape his throat as his mouth seeks your pulsating hole once more, fervently fucking it with his tongue. When he swallows your arousal, the sound is so obscene it sends you spiraling into a haze, desperate moans filling your cramped cell.

His tongue trails upward to your puckered hole, teasingly caressing the sensitive rim while his hands spread you wide enough for him to see how glistening your arousal is, your holes covered in spit and slick.

He works you thoroughly, giving you a devastating pleasure building just beneath your navel, though he won’t bring you to completion. Instead, he pulls himself back to his feet, pressing his body against yours. You feel the hard, angry press of his cock rubbing against the swell of your ass through the fabric of his pants, a maddening reminder of his desire. His teeth find their way to your neck, grazing the skin there with a teasing touch that sends shivers down your spine.

“Do you need to hear how sorry I am for abandoning you? That I’ve been tormented by relentless nightmares of your horrified face for months since the day they locked you away, since they took you from me?”

You let out a soft, needy whine at his words, thick with desire and overflowing with passion. Your neck cranes desperately, searching for his gaze, your brows furrowed in anguish as unshed tears glisten in your eyes. You bite your bottom lip hard, heart pounding so violently in your chest it feels like it might burst.

Edward pulls his cock free, its silken warmth slipping between your ass cheeks, rutting against the soft curve of your cleft. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and broken with moans that he tries to stifle against your skin. His hands grip your waist possessively, fingers digging in as though anchoring himself to you, as if you were a lifeline. You can feel his precum streaking your skin, thick and slick, as you instinctively rock your hips in sync with his movements, your own moans muffled by your hand. You crave him; crave the closeness, the intimacy, more of him.

“Do you need to hear how much I regret never telling you that I love you?”

His voice is shaky, a trembling whisper laden with raw emotion, each word a confession he can no longer contain. The torrent of emotions pouring from him mirrors the chaos swirling within you, threatening to overwhelm. When you breathe his name, it tumbles from your lips in a fractured whisper, a plea that makes him moan deeply against your neck. His grip tightens on your waist, as though holding onto you for dear life, the only thing keeping him tethered to the moment.

It takes only a few more thrusts before one of his hands finds the base of his cock, guiding it to your entrance. He hovers there, just at the threshold, the tip barely breaching you. But he hesitates, as if consumed by a cruel, lingering doubt; one that you feel deep in your core. His voice is barely a whisper now, soft and trembling with hesitation and fear as he speaks your name, each syllable like a fragile caress.

“Will you ever forgive me?”

And you nod. Eagerly, desperately, with every part of yourself. Tears spill freely down your cheeks, and your heart aches, splintering with the weight of this moment. For the first time in this fractured, painful relationship, you feel truly held, truly seen. Edward sighs, then pushes forward, sliding his cock into you. The sudden stretch inside your unprepared walls is overwhelming, your body clamping down around him, squeezing tight as he fills you, stretching you open with every inch. A shared groan escapes both of you as he drives deeper, splitting you apart, and oh God –how much more?

His cockhead presses deep, kissing your cervix with such intensity it draws a sob from your lips, your legs trembling as you balance on the tips of your toes, bending forward to deepen the connection. Edward groans, his breath ragged as he watches you arch at the waist. His hand slides over the curve of your ass, lingering there before tracing up to the small of your back, firm and possessive. Slowly, he pulls back, your slick walls clinging to him, the wet squelching sound sending a flush of heat over your skin.

When he thrusts back inside, the force steals your breath; a choked moan escapes you as you feel every ridge and vein of his cock, the swollen head stretching you, rearranging your insides, carving a path in your cunt, staking a claim on the deepest parts of you. His pace is torturously slow, each roll of his hips deliberate, spearing you on his cock again and again. You can feel your slick coating his entire length, each thrust gliding effortlessly now, the obscene squelch echoing in the room.

Suddenly, his fingers tangle in your hair, tugging just enough to pull you upright. You gasp as he releases your scalp, his arm snaking around your chest, pulling you tight, so tight against him. Your back presses flush to his chest, his heat enveloping you, the scent of him intoxicating as you lose all sense of separation between your bodies. All you know is his touch; his warmth, his heartbeat against your spine, and the way his hips snap into you with increasing brutality, your ass slapping against his abdomen with every forceful thrust.

You can’t hold back the staccato whimpers spilling from your throat, and you feel him lose his own composure, his groans growing more raw, more fervent. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, teeth grazing your skin, his breath hot against your pulse as he drives into you with an almost primal hunger.

“I missed you so much, I thought it would kill me,” his voice cracks in a broken whisper, spilling his heart against your skin as his lips brush reverently along the tender curve of your neck. You can feel the tremble in his mouth as it presses against your pulse point, each kiss carrying the weight of his desperation. His hips continue to move, thrusting deeply into you, every motion a raw, overwhelming sensation. Your own body responds instinctively, rocking back to meet him, each movement driving him deeper inside of you, igniting that perfect mix of pleasure and need.

The arm wound tightly around your chest pulls you closer, almost possessively, while the hand on your hip slides between your legs, fingers finding your throbbing clit with expert precision. His touch is deliberate, skilled, coaxing pleasure from you in waves. The intensity builds, and you muffle a cry, overwhelmed by sensation, but he shushes you gently, his voice soft and tender, a contrast to the heat of the moment.

He whispers more honeyed confessions, each one falling from his lips like a prayer, murmured between kisses tenderly pressed against your temple.

I can never get you out of my head.

I love you.

I wish I had never let you go.

Every word feels like a release, both of his emotions and yours, a heady mix of passion, regret, and a longing that burns between you, threatening to consume you both whole. Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, broken and desperate, as his hips stutter, teetering on the edge of release. His hand moves in frantic, erratic circles over your pearl, matching the feverish pulse of your own impending climax that builds, tight and hot, behind your navel.

“Come with me, Edward, please,” you beg, your voice trembling, the raw, lewd plea spilling out as though it were a confession, laced with need. His response is a choked sob against the curve of your neck, his body nodding in time with his relentless thrusts, pistoning inside you with a merciless rhythm.

When his teeth sink into your shoulder, it's almost too much; the bite grounding him, muffling the guttural moan that tears through him as he spills himself deep within your aching heat. The moment of his release triggers your own, your body convulsing as your walls clench tightly around him, milking every last drop from his shuddering form. Your cries are muffled into the fabric of your shirt as waves of pleasure rip through you.

The air between you both is thick with the sound of your ragged breaths as his hips slow, thrusting gently, lazily, until he finally stills, his softening cock still nestled within your silken clutch. For a moment, there is only the sound of your shared panting, the quiet aftermath of what just transpired.

Then, ever so tentatively, Edward leans in, his lips brushing your flushed cheek in a gesture that feels almost too soft for him. You turn your head toward him, finding his lips with your own in a kiss that is surprisingly tender, unhurried; chaste, even, in the lingering warmth of your shared afterglow. The kiss carries the weight of something unsaid, something fragile, as you press another kiss to his lips, and then another, each one softer, more delicate than the last.

In the silence of your tiny cell, your voice trembles, barely more than a whisper, as the words spill out like a quiet vow:

“Never let me go again.”

Another kiss. Another unspoken promise.

After tucking himself back into his pants, Edward crouches down, carefully pulling your pants back up with deliberate, almost reverent, movements. His lips trail softly along your calves, up the back of your thighs, and finally over the curve of your ass. Each kiss is gentle, as if savoring the moment, and it makes you smile; both from the tenderness of his touch and the intimacy of the moment.

You turn over to face him, eyes gleaming with playful mischief. “Do you think they heard us?” you whisper, a teasing smirk tugging at your lips.

Edward only shrugs, the hint of a sly smile curling at the edge of his mouth. “I’d gladly endure solitary confinement if it meant tasting you again,” he replies with a soft chuckle, a mixture of amusement and longing in his voice. You swat his shoulder playfully, and he responds with another kiss; this one softer, sweeter, as though it were the punctuation to his words.

Just one of the many stolen kisses exchanged in the shadows of Arkham, when no one is looking. They come in different forms: sometimes soft and tender, other times wild and hungry, full of tongue and teeth.

On rare occasions, you manage a quick, restrained encounter in one of your cells, the urgency of it a constant reminder of where you are. Each time, you find yourself wondering what it would feel like to be together in a real bed, where you could linger without fear of interruption, and where your voices don’t need to be silenced.

Hey Eddie, I can’t get you out of my head.

You fidget with your hair, twisting a strand nervously between your fingers as you smooth the hem of your dress for what feels like the hundredth time. It’s not the first time you’ve returned to Arkham, but every visit carries the same weight, the same nervous flutter in your chest. No matter how many times you come, you always make a point of looking perfect; everything in its place, as if your appearance could be a reflection of the life you’ve managed to build outside. A small token of the promise you’ve made to yourself.

The heavy doors to the visitation room creak open, and you rise to your feet, a warm smile instantly lighting your face as Edward walks in. Even in the dull light of Arkham, he looks as handsome as you remembered from the last time, his eyes locking onto yours with that same quiet intensity. The embrace you share is brief, following the facility’s rigid rules, but every second counts. You savor the feel of his arms around you, the warmth of his body. His lips find yours in a kiss that’s too short, too fleeting, yet filled with all the words you can’t say in front of the guards.

When you finally sit across from him at the cold, metal table, you clasp his hands tightly, his thumb lazily tracing circles over your skin, grounding you in the moment. It’s a small gesture, but it says everything. Here, despite the rules and the distance, you’re still connected. Still together.

Edward launches into stories about his week, his voice a comforting hum as he recounts the slow rhythm of life inside Arkham. He tells you about Cobblepot, who’s finally found a place for his new shop in Metropolis ("A bakery, can you believe that?" he scoffs, though there’s a hint of amusement in his voice), he talks about the monotony of movie nights, the way Dennis has picked up a new hobby. It’s mundane, but you hang on to every word, memorizing the details as if they’ll keep him closer until your next visit.

In turn, you tell him about your job, the quiet days spent working in your humble little office. You describe your apartment in the city, how it’s still a bit too small but it’s home. "All that’s missing now is you," you say softly, your voice carrying the weight of every lonely night spent without him. He squeezes your hand at that, a silent acknowledgment, a promise you both hold on to.

Together, your gazes drift toward the large bay window on the far wall, where the first snowflakes of the season are gently falling, blanketing the outside world in quiet white. For a moment, the two of you simply watch, letting the peaceful scene fill the silence between you. There’s something about the snowfall, the way it falls so slowly, so delicately, that mirrors the feeling in your chest. A soft hope, fragile yet unwavering.

In less than a year, Edward will walk out of this place. He’ll be released from Arkham, a free man. As promised by Gordon, he’ll join the GCPD, using his brilliance for something more, something good.

Edward catches your eye, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. But in the quiet, there’s an understanding. You both know what’s coming, and the future no longer feels like an impossible dream. It’s close now, within reach.

He brings your hand to his lips, kissing it gently, his eyes never leaving yours. "I’ll never leave you again," he says softly, his voice a low vow that sends warmth flooding through your chest.

And this time, you believe him.

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