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moonymarvel · 8 days ago

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I was scared to take a breath, didn't want you to move your head... (Bob Reynolds x female reader *SMUT MINORS DNI*)

🂱︎ pairing: Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolts/New Avengers female reader

🂱︎ synopsis: You're upset after a recon mission with Yelena goes slightly wrong, and Bob jumps at the opportunity to comfort you. He suggests to put on a film, and in the cosy movie room in the dim lights it leads to the two of you to become closer and more intimate than you ever have before.

🂱︎ genres: fluff fluff! friends with feelings as @em1i2a3 calls it, friends to lovers.

🂱 warnings: SMUTTY SMUT SMUT MINORS DNI! unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, praise kink, mentions of anxiety, mentions of wounds/injuries, mentions of Bob's previous drug use

🂱 notes: this is a bit long lol I kinda didn't know where I was going with it at first whoops... inspired by the line of lyrics in the title from the Sombr song 'back to friends' !

You let out a soft groan as your weight shifted on your bed, your muscles aching, bones still healing, and your heart pounding.

You'd been on a recon mission with Yelena last night, when things went sideways and the getaway car you drove flipped on its head, rolling a few times as you and Lena had no choice but to jump out of the car.

You'd both limped your way back to the tower to meet the medical team, your arm around Yelena's waist holding her up. Your rib was fractured and you had bruising all over your body, but Yelena wasn't so lucky. She had jumped out straight into some concrete, meaning she had to be monitored for a few days in the hospital wing for head injury and trauma.

You were at least able to sleep in your own bed after being patched up, but you couldn't help but feel drowned with guilt as Yelena was bedridden for the next few days.

"Lena? It's me." You opened the curtain slowly, holding an assortment of breakfast foods for her. You made sure to give her a wide selection, settling on a bowl of oatmeal with bananas and peanut butter drizzled on top, a plate of bacon and eggs, and her favorite pastries from the bakery across the road.

"Oh thank god thought I was hallucinating the smell of those pastries--" She said excitedly, reaching her arms out to you fingers motioning to hand her the food.

She dug in hastily, and despite the events of last night she seemed alright, considering.

"Yelena I'm sorry. I-- I should've gotten us out of there earlier-- quicker." You said sat on the edge of her hospital bed criss-cross-applesauce pulling apart a spare pastry she insisted you have.

"Don't even worry about it. This is all just precautions, honestly these idiots don't know the extent of things I went through in the red room, these injuries are nothing." She said with that thick Russian accent, so nonchalantly talking about her dark past. You stayed silent, still guilt ridden and full of regret.

"Hey, y/n. It's okay, I promise." Yelena reached over to hold your shoulder, the edges of her mouth covered in crumbs.

"You got me back! And we were fine. So fine. Really." She added reassuringly. You nodded, and gave her a small smile.

"Now stop disrespecting Mr Krispy Kream and eat your donut instead of pulling it apart." She finished, and you let out a soft chuckle, grateful for her ability to make light of these situations.

You both continued eating, and when nothing was left but empty bowls and crumbs you got up and took the tray of food to the kitchen.

You turned the corner and saw a familiar figure hovered over the sink, sweatshirt rolled up to his forearms, hair messy and falling over his face.

"Good morning Bob." You say, making your way over to the sink behind him.

"Y/n! Hey, morning!" He replies, tone happy and light that you couldn't help but crack a small smile.

"I heard about last night... A--Are you okay?" He asked, hands busy with the dishes and covered in soap.

"I'm f-fine. Yeah. Could've been worse I guess." You reply softly, leaning on the counter, hand clutching your bandaged side. You wince under your breath, and notice the purple and red hues beneath your skin that cover your hand.

You look up and meet Bob's worried gaze, hair falling over his face as his attempts to push it away, which just resulted in him leaving bits of soap on his temple. His lips were pressed in a thin line, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"y/n, are you okay?" He repeated. He always did this, saw right through you and your excuses. You both have grown quite close since moving into the tower, as you both had insomnia and anxiety. You'd find yourself up at odd hours of the night, with only Bob and a good book keeping you company.

He knew you better than anyone else on the team, always somehow knowing exactly what you needed. On the other hand your presence calmed Bob, hushing the constant buzz that constantly filled his head.

After especially hard missions, you'd come back to the compound to Bob doing some cleaning up, and upon seeing your tired figure enter, he'd immediately get to work on making you a cup of tea or hot chocolate.

During larger gatherings or meetings you'd pick up Bob's nervous ticks, when he'd start pulling at the loose threads of his sweater, or start to rub his eyes a little too often, and you'd find yourself giving him a gentle nudge or a reassuring squeeze with your hand to calm him.

Bob would knock at your door to check on you on the days you wouldn't leave your room, and make sure you'd eaten.

You'd stand up for Bob when Valentina or anyone else was putting too much pressure on him, and made sure that he was on top of his medication and therapy exercises.

"y/n?" You'd zoned out completely, and Bob was now stood in front of you, blue eyes full of worry.

"It's my fault." You whispered.

"w-what do you mean?" Bob asked, wiping his damp hands on the sides of his trousers, leaving behind even more wet marks on his clothes.

"Yelena... It was a simple recon mission. I just needed to get her out-- now she's in the hospital wing-- I just feel-- like I failed." Your vision clouded slightly, and you looked to the floor to avoid Bob's gaze.

He studied you for a second, before he gently lifted your chin up.

"I saw Yelena this morning, she's alright y/n. She's going to be okay." His fingers were soft and tender on your chin, and you looked up at him through teary eyes.

"I don't want to be the reason anyone else gets hurt." You whisper, and you knew Bob understood.

He didn't say anything, but he pulled you in for a gentle hug. He was slightly wet from doing the dishes, but you didn't really care. You buried your head into his soft sweatshirt inhaling the scent of him, with a little bit of dishwashing soap, and let a tear slide down your cheek. Then another, and another.

"Shhh. It's okay." Bob whispered, head resting on top of yours, holding you tightly. He couldn't help but catch a whiff of your shampoo, the one you lent him once and he's been obsessed with ever since. It smelled of coconut and vanilla, and he's since associated those scents with you.

He just stood there with you, and time seemed to slow when he held you in his arms, the rest of the world melting away.

You'd pulled apart from him eyes slightly red and cheeks stained with tears, a little embarrassed at your emotional outburst.

"I-I'm sorry Bob. Oh shit, I got your favorite sweatshirt all drenched I'm so sorry." You added, wiping your hands over his shoulder as if that would dry the spots from your tears, only to feel his hard muscles underneath his sweatshirt.

"Don't worry, this sweatshirt's had it's fair share of tear stains before." Bob replies, a slight blush tinting his cheeks at the feeling of your hands on him.

"d-do you wanna maybe put on a film? Get your mind off of it?" He adds.

"Y-yeah... I would love that actually." You're grateful for a distraction, and you grab some tissues from the cupboard dabbing away the leftover moisture on your face. You hear Bob shuffle around the kitchen behind you, pulling out two mugs, some chocolate powder, and milk. You take it upon yourself to grab some microwave popcorn from another cupboard, Bob shyly stepping aside to give you room.

You microwave the popcorn as Bob finishes up the drinks, the two of you stood silent but comfortable as the hum of the microwave filled the room.

"The rest of the team are gone by the way, they're out on mission... so we have the movie room to ourselves if--if that's where you wanna watch a film." Bob adds, stirring the liquid chocolate and adding the toppings just the way you like it.

"That's perfect" You chuckle

"No Alexei speaking over the dialogue or Walker acting like he's some film critic." You add. He flashes you a shy smile, mugs of finished hot chocolate in either hand.

"Ready?" He asks. The microwave dings and you grab the bag out of it, filling the room with the buttery smell.

You follow Bob's lead into the large movie room upstairs, cluttered with pillows, blankets, and some large couches all pointed towards the massive screen.

After minutes of discussing what film to put on, you both settle on a comedy film neither of you had seen before.

You make yourself comfortable on the couch, pulling over some blankets and a small table to put your hot chocolate down on. Bob sinks into the space next to you, hot chocolate already half empty with a hint of whipped cream covering his top lip.

"How have you had that much already! The films not even started yet!" You tease.

"I was hungry!"

You laugh, and if Bob could bottle up the sound and play it whenever, he would.

You lean over, closing the small gap between the two of you. Bob freezes, unsure of what to do but scared that whatever he does will ruin the moment.

He's not sure what to expect, but your hand comes up to cup his face and your thumb lightly swipes the whipped cream off his top lip.

Your finger was soft, gentle, but he could feel the small calluses that littered your skin from years of hero work.

You had your eyes locked on his lips, and you could have held his face in your hand forever.

You pull away, and Bob clears his throat, snapping himself out of your mesmerising touch.

"T-thanks"

"No problem."

The film opening credits begin to play and you settle into your seat, the couch so perfectly comfortable and cosy that you relax in no time.

Bob sits awkwardly next to you, not quite as relaxed, as he remembers the feeling of your hand on his face and your finger on his lips.

About a third into the film, Bob feels the slightest weight on his shoulder, and looks over to you completely slumped over on him, a light snore escaping your lips. The popcorn bag had now fallen from your hands leaving a pool of kernels on the floor, but Bob doesn't dare move to clean it up.

"y/n?" He whispers softly. There's no reply. You were exhausted after all, and the couch's soft embrace easily lulled you to sleep.

You moved, and Bob tenses, you slide down from his shoulder and he has to reposition himself to make sure you don't wake with a crick in your neck.

As slowly and carefully as he can, he slides lower down on the couch, arm coming around your shoulder. He hesitates, arm suspended in midair as if afraid to touch you. That's when you nuzzle into him in your sleep, head rested on his chest, your hand landing on his stomach.

You looked peaceful, angelic, and if it mean't Bob had to stay in this position forever just for you to get the rest you deserved than so be it.

He finally settled his arm on you, drapping it over your shoulder and side.

Bob tried his best to focus on the film, but the blooming feeling in his chest kept peeling his attention from the screen. Bob could happily drown in the smell of your hair, and tattoo the feeling of your skin on his. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, almost scared if he took a breath too deep or moved even an inch you'd wake and he'd never have the privilege of being this close to you ever again.

He spent the rest of the film breathing as shallow as he could, even holding his breath every time you stirred. This moment was sacred to him, holding you close as you were at your most vulnerable. He drew small circles on your back, relaxing into the rhythm of your breathing.

Little did you know that ever since you and Bob moved into the tower, he became your sanctuary, your safe space. He'd enter the room and you'd calm, he'd give you a soft smile and you'd melt.

The sound of the film's score woke you from your slumber, the credits of the film rolling on the screen. You realised your position, and how you were now laid diagonally on the couch on your side with your leg over Bob's lap, head on his chest, and arm across his stomach.

You looked up slowly, to see Bob eyes focused on the screen. He almost looked like a statue, with the contours of his features being especially obvious in the dim light. He was still, almost too still. Wait, was he breathing?

"Bob?" You spoke softly, lifting your head up from on his chest.

"y/n, y-you're awake." He turned to look down at you, still looking a bit tense.

"yeah sorry, didn't mean to fall asleep... shit that position must've been so uncomfortable for you I'm so sorry--" You sit up, immediately regretting it as he warmth of him by your side fades.

"N-no, please don't be sorry... I was perfectly comfortable, and I'm glad you got some rest." He added shuffling over on the couch to give you a bit of space, even though all he wanted to do was pull you close again.

"Damn. I don't think I've had a nap, in years..." you let out a small yawn and stretch your arms up, your shirt lifting giving Bob a peak of your midriff. He swallowed at that tiny flash of skin, immediately feeling guilty for looking.

"you okay? how was the film?" you asked. Bob seemed to be looking everywhere but you, suddenly extremely interested in the details of walls behind you.

"yeah I'm all good... erm- the film, yeah uh-- it was alright, not my taste-- maybe- erm I didn't follow it really--" His eyes keep darting around the room, as if afraid to look at you for too long. He runs a hand through his loose curls, a slight redness appearing on the tips of his ears.

"Bob. You didn't watch it properly, did you?" You interrupt his rambling, and looks as if he's just been caught doing something he shouldn't have.

You laugh, and there's that sound Bob wished he could bottle up again.

"Did you fall asleep too then? Maybe it wasn't a very good film." You add, looking over at the credits rolling on the screen.

"something like that..." He finally looks up to meet your eyes, and just from that quick nap Bob can already see you've perked up massively.

"So uh- how are you feeling?" Bob asks, leaning over to finally tidy up the spilled popcorn.

"Better. A lot better, thank you Bob." You join him, scooting over on the couch your thigh making contact with his as you both lean over collecting the pieces. Your hands touch as you reach for the same kernel, the contact sending electricity up your arm.

"Sorry." He says under his breath through a small chuckle.

"Don't be." You add looking over to him, your beautiful bright eyes piercing right through all the walls that protect Bob's heart.

You collect what's left of the mess and put it aside for now, not wanting to leave Bob's side just yet.

"Shit y/n, you're bleeding." You look down on your side and see red.

"Fuck, what time is it? I think I need to change the dressing of my stitches." You press a hand on your side, feeling the sting from the stitches below.

"The spare bandages are in my room, I'll just sort this and I'll see you in a bit." You get up, wincing slightly, hyperaware of the pain on your side.

"W-wait, I can help you." Bob is stood now as well, eyebrows knitted together in concern.

"Y-you don't have to do that Bob, you've done enough already--"

"No please, I want to help. Let me help you." His voice is soft, tender, laced with something deeper than just care. Your stomach grew warm at the thought.

"Okay... Thank you." You say quietly through a small smile.

You make your way down the corridor, Bob trailing behind you like a lost puppy dog transfixed on your scent.

You open the door to your room and rummage through the first aid kit you left next to your bed last night.

Bob is standing awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of what to do.

"You can come in Bob" You say over your shoulder, collecting the bandages and anti-septic cream.

Bob steps into your room shyly, taking specific note of how the room smells like you. He looked around, observing the state of your room. Posters were put up all over your wall as if the blank white paint behind them frightened you, you had a stack of books balanced precariously on your bedside table, and you had a Playstation 5 by a stack of games in the corner next to the TV.

"Sorry, I'm in need of a tidy." You felt a bit exposed, and you would almost be embarassed if it was anyone else but Bob. But you knew he'd never judge you, never.

"No no, don't apologize... The room is so perfectly, you..." He trailed off, eyes wide reading the countless movie titles on the posters that cluttered your wall. He just missed the slight blush that appeared on your cheeks, that warmth in your core bubbling up again.

You settled down on your bed as Bob timidly took a seat next to you.

"I'm assuming you know how to do this, right?" You asked, you didn't doubt he knew what he was doing, but you thought you'd give him one last chance to back out.

"y-yeah... I had to take care of myself anytime I did anything-- stupid-- whenever I was on-- y'know..." He said, almost ashamed. While your heart dropped everytime he brought up his past, you also couldn't help but feel proud of how far he'd come, and how strong he is. He dropped his gaze down to his lap, looking guilty he brought it up at all. You took one of his hands and gave it a gentle squeeze, reassuring him that he would never have to be alone like that again.

"Sorry, um, yeah. I can do this." He looked up at you through his hair, giving your hand a gentle squeeze in return. You pulled away and put the bandages and cream between the two of you, and awkwardly turned so your back was faced to him.

"Um, can I lift this up?" Bob asked as he fiddled with the hem of your shirt.

"Oh, yeah of course... Um, it may be easier if I just take it off." You didn't give Bob enough time to respond, as you pulled your shirt over your head and held it to your front. Bob swallowed, grateful you were faced away as his cheeks burned.

"Sorry, was that okay?" You asked, realising you must've taken him by surprise.

"Y-yeah of course, as long as you're comfortable." Bob couldn't peel his eyes off your bare back, which moved everytime you took a breath. You had a long line of stitches that stretched down from your right shoulder blade all the way to your side, with other patches of bruising cluttering your shoulder and arm.

Even through your injuries though, Bob couldn't help but find you beautiful. You had freckles that looked like paint speckled on a canvas, with a few older scars that looked like shooting stars across in the night sky.

He snapped himself back to reality, taking the time to gently remove the dressing that had been stained red. The light touch of his fingers on your back made you shiver, the warmth in your stomach growing.

Bob did good work with cleaning up the bleeding, and reapplying a new bandage. The moment was quiet, but intimate, something heavy weighing in the air between you two.

"Thanks..." You said, looking over your shoulder at him. His hand was still on your back, large and warm, pressed on the bandage as if he didn't want to detach from you.

"You're welcome..." He said in a low, quiet voice that made the skin under his touch tingle. Bob's hand took on a mind of it's own as he trailed a finger across your spine, making your whole body shiver. You didn't say anything as he continued lining his finger across your back, like he was painting a picture.

"That... feels really nice..." Your eyes fluttered closed, sinking into his touch. You let out a relaxed exhale, all your pain going numb under the gentle touch of Bob.

Bob was quiet, transfixed, almost no longer himself. Maybe it was the Sentry taking over for a second, or maybe it was just Bob, finally giving into the desire he'd had for you for so long.

Then he did something so soft and tender that it broke the unspoken tension between the two of you. He planted a gentle kiss on the top of your shoulder. Then another on the top of your spine, and another right behind your ear.

"Bob..." You said softly, leaning into him, the feeling of his lips on your skin making you feel drunk.

The sound of his name snapped him out of his trance, eyes going wide and pulling away, leaving your back bare and cold again.

"Shit-- uh... s-sorry... I hope that was okay... I- I don't know what came over me." Bob was flushed, almost terrified at himself for getting carried away.

"N-no please... I-- I liked it.. I-- like you Bob..." You said laying out your heart to him.

You turned to him, still clutching your shirt to your chest. His hair had fallen over his eyes, his pupils blown. You saw a shimmer of something yellow in his eyes, something golden, for a split second, then it was gone.

"I want you, Bob. Only you" Your tone was soft, but desperate, your need for him growing.

"I want all of you."

"Y/n, you drive me crazy." And with that he surged forward connecting your lips with his. The kiss was hungry, but tender still, like he was drinking you up like sweet honey. His hand came up to cup your cheeks, your hands still clutching your shirt. He tasted like chocolate and butter, lips slightly chapped and hands slightly calloused.

You both twisted and manouvered around each other on the bed, as gracefully as you could and without hurting your injuries, never unlocking lips. He settled you down softly onto your pillow hands cupping the back of your head, positioning his body on top of you.

Your side stung just the slighest, but not nearly enough for you to want to stop the moment. Your hands found his mess of curls, letting go of the thin cotton shirt that separated your bodies.

Bob pulled away, breathless, resting his forehead on yours, his hand and forearm next to your head bearing his weight.

"C-can I-" He says fingers tangling with the bottom of your shirt. You nod, and he slowly peels the fabric away exposing your upper body to him.

"God... you're beautiful." His voice was low and husky, but the compliment was soft, leaving his lips like he's wanted to say that to you forever. One of his hands began to explore your body, starting from you stomach, up to your breasts. You were aching under his touch, and when his finger even slightly grazed your nipple you let out a soft moan.

"fuck y/n, do that again for me." And with that he latched onto your nipple, sucking lightly, other hand fondling the opposite breast. You let out another moan, louder this time, giving him exactly what he asked for.

Bob was careful not to touch any of your lingering bruises as his hand continued to roam your body, lips still on your nipple eyes closed shut trying to memorise the feeling. One of his slipped under your shorts, immediately finding your soaked center.

He came up from sucking on you starved for air, looking up at you with his stunning blue eyes. He wished he could frame the way you looked, bottom lip trapped between your teeth, hair falling perfectly around your face as you moaned his name.

His fingers made contact with the wet spot on your panties, softly grazing the top of the fabric.

"f-fuck Bob..." He'd barely even touched you and you could already feel yourself begin to unravel.

"Is this okay?" He asked, not in the shy tone he usually spoke with but a deeper, hungrier, more powerful voice.

"yes-- yes--" You answered between gasps and moans as he slipped his hand into your panties, finding your sensitive bud with ease.

"aw baby, so wet already." His voice rang with that same dark tone again, and you looked into his eyes and caught just a glimpse of the golden honey the flashed in the blue.

He dipped a finger in you with ease, and you let out a moan, pushing your head back into the pillow. This gave Bob access to your neck, immediately littering your skin with soft, wet kisses.

He pumped his finger in and out, while kissing you like you were holy. He added another digit, and the feeling made your hand fly to his head, and pull at his loose curls.

"Yes baby, that's it..." his husky tone made your eyes roll back into your head, feeling the tight knot in your lower belly become more intense.

He latched on to your nipple once more, sucking and biting just the right amount that the feeling teetered between pain and pleasure.

"F-fuck Bob-- I'm gonna--" He didn't need telling, he could feel you tighten around his fingers and could hear your moans growing louder and more intense. He continued on pumping his fingers, kissing up your chest and neck,

"I've got you baby, cum for me please." You didn't need to be told twice, feeling the knot come undone as the pleasure reached its peak. Bob helped you ride out the high, littering your neck with soft kisses in between compliments.

You heaved, catching your breath. Bob kept his fingers in you for just a moment longer, savoring the feeling of being inside you.

You opened your eyes to his blue ones taking in your beautiful form, still flushed and glistening from your finish.

He slowly pulled his fingers from beneath you, and lifted his fingers to his lips, and sucking them clean.

"fuck Bob." You moaned, already aching for more.

"I love it when you moan my name." He said in his husky voice before pressing his lips on yours, letting you taste yourself as his tongue explored your mouth.

His hand came up to your side, ever so gently and still very much conscious of your injuries, which was in complete contrast to how hungrily he was kissing you, and the pressure you felt pressed up against you.

You reached down, making contact with him through his trousers, making him break the kiss to moan.

"y/n-- I-- you don't have to do that." Bob said between breaths. He was big, and you could feel him aching beneath your palm.

"you--you're still hurt-- please- don't feel like you have to do anything f-for me--" He could barely get a word out, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought the urge to unravel at your touch.

"I want to make you feel good Bob. I want to feel all of you." Bob's eyes shot open at your words, pupils wide and blown, and with one swift movement, he had you on top of him, and sat up to meet your lips.

He cradled you with arms that felt like they were molded in marble, as he kissed you as if he were drunk on the taste of you.

You could feel him pulsing beneath you, the only thing separating the two of you being his sweatpants now wet with excitement.

You start to move, craving his touch and needing friction between your legs, when he pulls away suddenly, like he's snapped out of a trance.

"You feel any bit of pain, we stop. This isn't worth it if I hurt you y/n." He had a serious tone to his voice you'd never quite heard before, but it was laced with such protectiveness and care that you knew this man would go to the ends of the earth for you.

"Yes Bob... And don't worry, I'm not made of glass." You reply playfully, already missing the feeling of his lips on yours.

"Not glass, definitely not glass." He kissed you again, cradling your body flush onto his. You traced your fingers down his body, feeling the dips and curves of his frame. Your fingers played with the frayed hems of his sweater, ever so slightly making contact with the skin beneath. You physically felt him twitch.

You pulled the sweater off, to finally reveal the physique that can only be described as heaven sent. He was toned, strong, but not overly big, and still littered with signs of Bob and his past. He was beautiful, godly, but still warm and human.

"y/n? Is something wrong?" You'd realised you hadn't spoke or moved in a second, Bob's deep voice pulling you back into the moment.

"Bob, you're beautiful." Was all you could bring yourself to say. It left your lips almost like you didn't mean to say it, like it was a secret that you didn't dare share so you could keep him all to yourself.

Bob was speechless, but his smile grew showing the creases on his temples, and the sparkle of his eyes.

"and you're perfect." His lips were on yours again in no time, and he held firmly on your hip with one hand as he began lowering his sweats down his body with the other. It wasn't graceful, but with your help he was finally bare before you.

He was flushed at the tip, and so, so incredibly big.

He lined himself up to your entrance, and slowly, you lowered yourself onto him.

You went slow, feeling every inch of him filling you up. Your head dropped onto his shoulder, and he said small praises into your hair as you took him all in.

He allowed you a moment, even through gritted teeth as your walls were so warm and tight around him. When he felt you move and lift yourself up, only then did he start thrusting up to meet you.

"You're taking me so well beautiful..." He had one hand down on the bed for support, the other holding you as your hips continued to meet in the middle.

You felt him deep in your core and it wasn't long till your legs gave out from beneath you.

"Bob--" You barely got his name out between moans, feeling the waves of pleasure all over your body.

"I know baby, I know. Do it with me okay? Just hold on a little longer." He could feel you tightening around him, and hear your moans getting loader. He kissed your neck, and worshipped your body with his free hand.

"Please--" The feeling was overwhelming now, but he continued to thrust into you at an even pace. You knocked your head back when he made contact with your nipple, his mouth doing it's magic as his thrusts became harder, sloppier, hungrier.

"You've done so good beautiful, come with me now okay? You've done so good." His praises were more than enough to send you over the edge, and your moans were music to his ears as he released deep inside you. Throughout it all Bob watched you like you were divine, hyperaware of how perfectly the two of you fit together like this.

You collapsed onto him, and he slowly let himself fall back onto the bed, cradling you again gently. You laid in comfortable silence, still catching breath and calming down.

It wasn't long however till you felt a small tingle at your back, drawing your attention back to the whole reason you two were here.

"crap. I think my stitches broke again."

#thunderbolts #bob reynolds #thunderbolts bob #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds smut #thunderbolts smut #lewis pullman #lewis pullman smut

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22ayla21 · 4 months ago

Note

Hi!! I read your scene where the amphoreus husbands took revenge on their wives which led the kids to be concerned, I loved it so much!!

Could you do a scene that takes place a while after the incident with the kids in the morning where they notice their wife actually struggling due to pain and takes care of her?

Thank you so much! I love your works, they keep me going <333

Daddy's Mistake

Children's reaction to "daddy's mistake"

The morning at home started out a little different than usual. Mom was limping more than yesterday, and dad, surprisingly, hadn't left her side all day, helping her even with the little things she could handle on her own.

- Mom, are you okay? - the eldest asked when he saw her carefully leaning on a chair before sitting down. She smiled as always, but the children noticed that this smile was... strange.

- Everything is fine, - she answered calmly. But the youngest sister frowned.

- But you weren't limping like that yesterday... - her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

- Are you sure?

Mom just nodded, and meanwhile dad, who usually didn't get involved in such conversations, immediately moved a pillow for her comfort and put a cup of tea in front of her.

It was... strange. Very strange.

- Dad, what did you do to make you so concerned about mom now? - the middle child asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Mydei froze for a moment.

- Me?..

- Well, yes, - the eldest now also joined in the investigation. - You must have done something, if you are now so attentive to mom!

- I... - he coughed into his fist, avoiding their tenacious glances. - I am just... showing concern.

But the children were not fools. They looked at mom. Then at dad. Then at mom again. And then the middle daughter turned out to be the bravest:

- Did you accidentally hit Mom?!

Mydei choked on air.

- WHAT?!

The youngest sister looked indignant.

- Dad, did you hurt mom?!

- Of course not! - he was indignant, but seeing how the children were boring into him with suspicion, he suddenly lost confidence. And mom just sat, silently sipping tea, and did not even try to save him.

- Then why is she limping?!

Mydei glanced quickly at his wife, but she only smiled reservedly, enjoying his torment. He swallowed.

- Just... an accident.

- Oh, dad... You try so hard, but you still ruined everything, huh? - the eldest sighed compassionately.

- Exactly, - Mom nodded with satisfaction, taking a sip of tea. And the children, completely confused, but certain of one thing - Dad was clearly guilty of something - continued their breakfast, casting suspicious glances at him.

The wife tried to keep her back straight and walk as if everything was fine, but the children, as always, were too observant. If in the morning her limp could still be hidden, then by midday even the most inattentive of them noticed that their mother was moving slower than usual.

- Mom, are you in pain? - the youngest son pulled her hand, looking up from below with concern. She smiled, stroking his head.

- No, I'm just a little tired.

But children were not so easily tricked. The daughters immediately looked at their father, who was behaving... strangely. He was watching his wife too carefully, offering her to sit down, bringing tea, even taking on her share of the work.

It was... suspicious.

- Dad, did you do something? - asked the eldest daughter, folding her arms across her chest. Anaxa froze for a second, but then returned his face to its usual imperturbable expression.

- Why do you think so?

- You're acting... too nice. Like you're making amends.

The middle daughter narrowed her eyes.

- Did you do something that hurt mom?

The wife almost choked on her tea. Anaxa looked away, clearly trying to come up with an answer that wouldn't raise any more questions.

- I just... maybe... overdid it a bit with the training.

- You made mom train? - the eldest was indignant.

- Well... you could say that.

The youngest son frowned and approached his mother, hugging her tightly around the waist.

- Dad, you should be more careful! Mom isn't as strong as you are.

The wife almost burst out laughing, but she held back, watching Anaxa struggle with her pride. He wanted to object, but he knew that making excuses now would only make the situation worse.

- I'll... take it into account.

- Okay, - the youngest son nodded, pleased that his words had been heard.

The daughters looked at their father suspiciously for a while, but, not having gotten a confession from him, decided to leave the matter. But the wife was clearly enjoying the whole situation. Especially when Anaxa, realizing his guilt, carefully helped her sit more comfortably and even brought a pillow.

- Well, well, now you've suddenly become so caring? - she whispered when the children turned away. Anaxa only chuckled, but a mixture of guilt and hidden threat was visible in his eyes.

- I'm correcting my mistake. But don't think that next time you'll be able to escape so easily.

She grinned.

- We'll see.

The children began to notice this in the morning.

At first, everything seemed normal: their mother woke them up as usual, ate breakfast with them, but when she got up to clear the dishes, her movements were slower than usual. She limped slightly, and a barely noticeable expression of discomfort flashed across her face.

- Mom, does something hurt? - one of the sons asked, frowning.

- No, no, everything is fine, - she answered quickly, but her gaze slid briefly towards their father. And that’s where it became interesting.

Phainon, who was sitting next to her, immediately perked up, distracted the children and barely noticeably moved a chair towards her so that she could sit down. Later, when they were walking through the house, the children noticed that he literally adjusted his steps to hers, as if he was ready to catch her at any moment.

- Mom, are you sure everything is okay? - the youngest repeated insistently.

- Of course, - she answered, smiling softly, but glanced sideways at Phainon again.

But father... he looked guilty. All day long he had been extraordinarily solicitous of mother: handing her a cup, offering her a seat, doing all the housework himself, and when the children noticed her limping again, he immediately picked her up and carried her into the other room, despite her indignant protests.

- Dad, did you do something? - the eldest son finally asked, narrowing his eyes. Phainon froze.

- Um... of course not, - he answered too quickly.

- Then why is mother limping, and why are you acting like a guilty puppy? - father cleared his throat, and his wife only chuckled, shaking her head.

- That’s... um... a long conversation.

The children looked at each other, still puzzled. They didn’t know what Father had done, but he had definitely done something. And since he's trying so hard to make amends, it means there was something serious.

Now they have a new riddle. And they'll definitely solve it.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr #mydei x reader #hsr mydei #mydei #mydeimos #honkai star rail anaxa #hsr anaxa #anaxagoras #anaxa x reader #anaxa #hsr phainon #phainon #phainon x reader

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h0useslut · 27 days ago

Text

you are the life i needed all along

requests | masterlist

pairing : gregory house x fem! rheumatologist!reader

w/c : 2,3k

warnings : established relationship, mild illness (nothing graphic), implied age gap, mutual pining, soft confessions, emotional vulnerability, hurt/comfort

summary : greg can’t tell reader he loves her, because saying it out loud is hard. so he won’t say it at all. but he will show it to her.

a/n : based on this request!

It was a truth universally acknowledged that no woman could ever make Gregory House soften. Especially after Stacy. Or even more specifically, after his leg injury.

Or so everyone thought.

A few months after House had managed to gather up a team in order to run his department - a diagnostician, they’d said when you came in,

Cuddy hired you. Young, and full of new ideas in your field, Lisa didn’t hesitate to make you head of the rheumatology department.

You heard about the infamous Gregory House since the minute you stepped foot inside the hospital.

Learned more about him when you accidentally spilled hot coffee all over him.

He was supposed to be mad, wasn't he? He should’ve yelled, maybe said the most lewd comment known to mankind.

But instead of a cutting remark, he’d blinked. Blinked and let out the smallest and most dangerous smirk you’d ever seen.

“Guess you’re not a morning person either?” He’d said.

You blinked, halfway expecting to be eaten alive. “Yeah, well. Your fault anyway” you had teased, trying to stifle down a giggle.

“Oh great, you’re delusional. You’ll fit right in” he teased, but he also had a soft little on his face - almost genuine. It made your heart swell.

And that was just the beginning.

The next day, you bought him lunch to apologise for the ruined shirt, and let’s be honest. Who was Gregory House to deny free lunch? Even Wilson didn’t treat him with such joy.

“Oh, I bet you find me irresistible,” He said with a smug little expression, before devouring like he hadn’t eaten anything for days.

You figured that was it. A weird - one-off moment. But it wasn’t.

He kept showing up. In the hallway, in your office. In that space just below the stairs, you liked to hide when things got too loud, too clinical.

At first, he acted like it was a coincidence. Like he just happened to need to pass through wherever you were. But House was many things, and subtle was never one of them.

“I’m beginning to think you’re stalking me,” you teased once, catching him for the third time that week loitering outside your office door.

“Oh please. If I were stalking you, you’d know it pretty face” he shot back, but his eyes lingered longer than they should’ve before he limped off.

Your playful and witty banter only carried on for so long before the tension between you shifted. One day, somewhere along the stolen lunches sarcastic quips over patient charts, House asked you out. Not anything fancy, emotional - just him, looking at you and asking you as casually as if he were ordering takeout.

“Dinner?” No punchline followed. Just that.

You were stupid not to agree. Dinner turned into breakfast, turned into weekends, which turned into toothbrushes left behind and arguments over who stole whose sweatshirt. (you obviously? you loved his clothes)

Now it’s just you, and him. No announcements no big labels, just the strange unspoken understanding of you being his person. Somehow, he’s yours too.

Which is why today, when you show up at work sniffling and obviously running on less than four hours of sleep, House doesn’t let it slide.

“You look like death,” he said in a chirpy voice, hoping to get a small reaction from you. “Stole Wilson’s lunch. Here” He continued, dropping a small lunch box and an orange juice in front of you.

You barely glanced at him. “Can’t. I have clinic duty, consults, and a paper that should be turned in by Friday”

He frowns and then moves quickly. He shuts your laptop down, earning a small “Hey!” from you. “Why’d you do that?!”

“Cause I can’t have you passing out during rounds and embarrassing me”

“Oh, baby. You’re such a romantic” You fret, rolling your eyes - Or attempting to do so. Your head pounded so much even that was difficult for you.

“And you’re—“ He paused, bringing his hand to your forehead to check your temperature. “You have a fever, sweetheart. Take the compliment and lie down before I carry you”

Trying to protest was useless. He’d always get what he wanted.

“You know I’ll make it weird, come on. Up you go”

You muttered something about abuse of power when he helped you to your feet, but the truth was that the room was already spinning, and you were grateful he held you.

“Where are we going?” you asked, leaning into him slightly as he looped an arm around your waist.

“My office. Big chair. Nap. You’re banned from thinking for the next few hours.” he said, leading you down the hall like it was routine.

“No - Not your office. Smells like sarcasm and regret” you mumbled.

“Exactly. Suits you”

When he settled you on the worn-out leather chair, he didn’t tease you about the way you curled up immediately, or how fast your eyes fluttered shut. Instead, he pulled his coat from the rack and draped it over your body.

He doesn’t follow after the team immediately. He sits back at his desk, grumbling as he twiddles with his cane.

“Unbelievable. I get you lunch, save your life and the thanks I get is… Are you sleeping? Tsk tsk, sweetheart” He grumbled, but his words held no anger.

From the couch, he heard your muffled, drowsy voice.

“Love you too”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The small, rare smile tugging at the corner of his lips said it all.

After a few minutes, he walked over to you— placing a chaste kiss on your forehead. You were still warm.

“Goddamn hopeless romantic”

He stood there for a moment, just watching you. Your features weren’t totally relaxed— the crease between your eyebrows was still there. The sight made something in his chest tighten, some old reflex he tried not to name.

With a sigh, he turned back to his desk, settling into his chair and spinning lazily in it once before grabbing a pen. Diagnostics could wait a little longer. He pulled your laptop toward him, flicking it open despite your earlier protests.

“Clinic duty, consults, paper due to Friday” he muttered to himself, scrolling through your emails and files. “I don’t remember agreeing to date an overachiever”

Then, he started canceling. One email, then another - until your inbox and calendar were empty. But halfway through the process, Wilson walked in, probably ready to ask something - until his gaze landed on your sleeping form, curled up on House’s chair with his coat.

“Really?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

House didn’t look up from your laptop. “She’s sick”

“And you’re… playing secretary?”

He vaguely gestured with his pen, as if saying Go away. “She’s annoying when she’s dying. This is self-preservation”

Wilson chuckled, muttering a small “Whatever you say” before turning to leave.

“Oh and tell Cuddy if she needs rheumatology, she’ll have to drag her away herself”

“Fine, just don’t fall in love with her”

House didn’t answer. He just kept typing. Because if he had answered, he would’ve said something like, “Too late”

By the time you’d woken up, the sun had set and soft lamps were flickering in the office. You were groggy and unaware of how long you’d been sleeping, making House turn his attention to you the minute you shifted a little.

“Sleeping beauty is finally awake, hm?” He said softly, coming to sit near your feet.

“Yeah. How long was I out for?”

“Long enough for me to hack into your email account” He smirked, noticing how your expression went from sleepy to mortified.

“You did what?!” you croaked, sitting up straighter despite his coat being wrapped around you.

“Oh relax, you didn’t have any dirty secrets. Just a lot of boring consults and an unholy amount of calendar reminders. Honestly, it was more disappointing than I expected”

“You canceled my day, didn’t you?”

“Mhmm,” he popped a pill bottle open, handing it to you. “You’re still feverish,” he said softly, concern etched on his features.

You took the pills reluctantly, eyeing the water bottle he passed next like it had personally wronged you. “You know, you’re supposed to be the world’s biggest jerk. This is very off-brand for you”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, resting his chin on his cane while watching you sip the water. “I’ll go back to bullying residents and making interns cry the second you stop looking like a Victorian ghost.”

You sighed, melting back into the chair. “I was fine”

“No you weren’t, sweetheart”

You blinked at the endearment - voice sounding much more softer than usual. It always came up low and tired, like he couldn’t help himself. Like it slipped out from somewhere unguarded.

“I’m not fragile you know” You murmured, averting your gaze from him, focusing on his cane.

He gave you a look, deadpanned but affectionate. “You fell asleep on my chair, wrapped up in my coat like a burrito. Forgive me for assuming you’re not at full strength”

“Such a sap, Greg”

“Yeah, I’m such a catch” he drawled. “You’re staying at my place tonight”

“What? Why?”

“Which part of “you can’t stand up straight without help” don’t you understand? I’m not leaving you alone. You might spiral into working again”

“I have an apartment,” You said softly, even though deep down you wanted to be with him.

“Sure. But I have better snacks”

You tried to protest—really, you did. But your head was still heavy, your limbs achy, and the thought of curling up in his too-big clothes, in his bed that smelled like him, was more comforting than you’d admit.

“Okay, doctors orders,” you said, giving in. “But I’m taking your Princeton sweater”

He stood up, putting his cane aside just to help you up and take your bag. “Fine. But the movie’s on me. And if you fall asleep, I promise to take a picture and save it as my contact photo”

You sighed, pressing your fingers on your temple to stop the throbbing in your temples. “You wouldn’t dare”

“Sweetheart” He whispered when he saw your face contorting in pain. “I would”

He opened the door for you, watching every single reaction you had. And despite the pounding in your head and the burn in your throat, you smiled. Because somehow, being lovingly bullied by Gregory House was the safest you’d felt all week.

By the time you reached his apartment, you’d been dozing on and off in his car, head lolling with every turn he took. He didn’t comment on it. Just glanced every now and then, turning the music down.

Inside, the lights were low. His place smelled like burnt coffee and old books, and maybe… comfort. Tossing your bag on the couch, he headed to his room - emerging with a soft, worn-out t-shirt. No way he’d give you the Princeton hoodie. That would be saved for special occasions.

Without a word, House helped you sit on the edge of the couch - hands on your waist to steady you. “Arms up” he instructed.

He moved carefully—fingers brushing lightly over your fever-warm skin, gaze never straying lower than your face. When he slipped the shirt over your head, he smoothed it down your arms like he was folding something delicate.

You didn’t bother with pants—he wouldn’t care, and you were already sinking into the couch as your bones had dissolved. He followed a second later, dropping beside you with a quiet grunt. His hand found your back automatically, warm and steady, tracing gentle circles like it was second nature.

“You gonna pass out on me again?” he asked, voice quieter now.

“No, unless you feed me anything. Maybe soup and oh - maybe grilled cheese?”

He snorted. “You’re getting a cold sandwich and you’re gonna love it”

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. “You’re insufferable” you spoke, breath fanning over his skin. It almost made him shiver.

“And yet,” he said, grabbing a blanket and draping it over your body. “You’re here, on my couch, in my clothes… In my arms”

“…and kind of in love with you”

It wasn’t meant to slip out. It just did. Fever loosened your tongue, and your heart as well.

His breath hitched - and the cogs in his brain started running. It was the medicine, wasn’t it? It was making you bleary… and saying things you didn’t mean.

But what if you did mean it?

He didn’t say anything at first.

Just looked at you, really looked at you. Your lashes clumped from sleep, cheeks flushed and lips plump - all in your feverish state. You looked as if you hadn’t realised what you’d just said. He found it adorable.

It would be easier to laugh it off. Deflect. Say something cruel and clever, to ruin the moment.

Instead, House reached up - carded his fingers through your hair, noticing how you let out a quiet, but content sigh.

“You’re kind of high on ibuprofen,” he said finally, voice rough.

“Maybe. I meant it either way” you said, words muffled against the fabric of his shirt.

A beat passed.

Then another.

House didn’t look at you when he answered—just let his hand trail down your arm before lacing his fingers with yours.

“I’m kind of in love with you too,” he muttered. “Unfortunately.”

You huffed sleepily, snuggling closer to him. “Tragic. Can’t have you become a softie now”

“Oh, you’re an evil woman,” he said teasingly, squeezing your hand.

For a moment, you didn’t move. His free hand continued its soothing motions on your back, making you feel safe, kept. Like even if he wasn’t good with words, he was still choosing you, quietly, in all the ways that mattered.

Eventually, he shifted - manoeuvring you so you were lying on his chest with your legs entwined.

“Sleep, sweetheart,” he said in a hushed tone, pressing a kiss to your warm forehead. “Maybe I’ll make you grilled cheese tomorrow”

You smiled against his chest, the warmth of his body lulling you under again.

“You better” you whispered.

And he didn’t say anything else—not out loud, at least. But the way he held you closer said everything.

#gregory house #gregory house x reader #gregory house x reader fluff #sickfick #house md #established relationship #fem!reader #reader insert #comfort fic #fanfic #greg house x you #hurt/comfort

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whore4mattandchris · 2 months ago

Text

| 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙛 1 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 3

Chris turns over in bed excepting to feel your warm body beside him but to his dismay he feels an empty cold bed.

He immediately wakes up upset to know you have left thinking you went back to the studio after getting home late.

He still remembers the way you limped into his room complaining about your sore toes from your pointe shoes.

He quickly gets up and walks upstairs to the kitchen he was originally going to the car to drive to the studio but was stopped when he saw you in your silk pink robe whipping up a breakfast feast.

You were in your own little world humming to a Lana Del Rey song, Chris can tell you don't sense anything but the camera recording you cooking and the song in your head.

He stalks up behind you and wraps his warm arms under your robe, your skin cold is shocked by the contrast to Chris's body temperature.

You turn around and kiss his head, "Good morning to you too baby." You say to him before turning around and continuing to cut the fruits.

"What are you making there?" Chris asks in his husky morning voice with his bread hairs scratching your neck in a comforting way.

"I'm making a fruit salad just finishing the strawberries, The croissants are being baked right now, and I have to make all the omelettes for us." You say casually as if making a full course meal was normal everyday.

Chris wasn't shocked one bit though he was used to you going full on out for anyone and everything.

"Is this for us baby?" He asks pressing his face closer to you. "No silly this is for ALL of us." You say emphasizing the word 'all' showing that you were also cooking for his brothers.

Chris sighs knowing this and pulls away from your body. Him feeling cold already, "But baby they can have cereal." He says whining.

"Christopher Owen." you say warning him.

"Okay okay." He says already heading to the refrigerator.

"Can you actually get everything out for the omelettes and whisk everything in different bowls but please baby do not cook them." You say as you squeeze fresh lime juice on the fruit salad which consisted of: Pineapples, Strawberries, Pomegranate seeds, Kiwi, Green Apples, Green and Purple Grapes, and your favorite Raspberries.

Chris looks at you hurt, "Do you not think I can cook too?" He says faking a baby voice.

You laugh as you take the Strawberry Shortcake flavored Croissants out the oven. With your new Hello Kitty oven mitts. "Well you're exactly not Gordan Ramsay baby." You say place the Croissants on a tray and start filling them with your homemade cream cheese filling making sure your camera catches your every move.

Chris was whisking away minding his own business before he heard you gasp making him drop his fork, "What happened?!" He asked rushing to your side worried that you accidentally burnt or cut yourself.

You hold up a heart shaped croissant, "Look it's for you baby!" You say smiling at him with your beautiful doe eyes. Chris just sighs and softly smiles at you kissing your head, "It's going to taste a lot better now!" You say genuinely happy at your creation.

Chris can't help but fall in love with you more. You show your camera, "Look everyone!" You excitedly say maybe a little too loud because Nick comes downstairs still in his blanket.

"Why are you guys so loud." Nick states annoyed that he was waken from a great nap.

"Oh sorry Nick to make it better I am making you guys breakfast. Can you go get Matt it's almost done." You say giggling to yourself.

Nick's whole demeanor changes hearing the sentence 'you guys breakfast.' He quickly mutters an 'ok.' and walks over to Matt room.

You and Chris finish all the cooking together. Once you guys actually finish you show your camera a finished plate of everything put together along with a glass of apple juice.

The two boys come back upstairs and sit down, Chris looks at them confusingly, "You think she's going to give you guys your plates? Get your asses up. Be glad she even made you two breakfast." Chris says sternly at them. They get up muttering an apology to me I reassured them that it was ok.

"Chris that was unnecessary." You say pouting at him.

He kisses your head, "They know to make their own plate baby." Chris says smiling at you.

The two boys come back, they set their plates down and sit down. "Thank you so much Y/N it looks delicious." Matt says taking a bite of the croissant.

"Yeah thanks Y/N!" Nick says very happy now.

"Anytime guys." You say smiling at them.

We eat breakfast together like a family I may be a girlfriend of 1 but I am a mother of 3 around here.

©𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙚4𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙘𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨

A/N: I made this while eating whataburger..

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #ballet!reader #frat boy chris #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo fluff #© whore4mattandchris

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ddragonqueenn · 3 months ago

Text

To Take Care of You

Word count: 1,280

Summary: People fade from his life as fast as crops when out of season, when confronted with the fragile mortality of those he knows now, Aventurine panics. (Or, you pass out in front of him and get nursed back to health. Badly, but helped all the same.)

Tags: Mostly fluff, but it's got a sad air to it, Aventurine carries the misery with him always, the tragedy is his appeal, reader is like an irate cat who doesn't want to be held, Aventurine is trying to be silly about how much he wants to hold reader, you're not sly bitch we know you're down bad

Notes: my beta reader said it was a fun and light read, but still goes into the emotional details that I love about him. So. Have fun

Would you consider yourself a sickly person? Not by any means, no… Sure, there's an ache when you first awake, and oftentimes your joints disagree with exertion- disagree loudly. With pain. But overall, you don't suffer from anything but being lazy, truly. The tired fog is because you yearn for bed (not from a breakfast skipped days in a row. And a lunch skipped… some days you pass on dinner, too. Definitely not), sympathy should seldom be given to those who refuse to better themselves.

Aventurine chatters as you pick at your meal, paid for by the chirping peacock across. He invited you out for a bite to eat, saying he got a bonus at work and wants to spoil his dearest friend.

…You feel just a little faint, but it's brushed off easy with a bite, “...Really? Pearl voted to keep you?” You comment; something about a trial by the other Stonehearts that Aventurine had to go through after his work trip.

“Yeah- I was shocked too!” He nods, shifting up his collar. The conversation continues, Aventurine's work stories make interesting topics- though, sometimes he must be lying, an Emanator of Nihility? THEY don't gaze at anyone…

Your legs feel strangely weak as you stand, a sudden daze blurring up your vision as the table and chair become convenient supports for your stumbling body- Aventurine guides you back to the chair, hand resting on your shoulder, “Hey- hey, friend, don't stand if you can't. How about this-” the concern fades to an salesman-like voice, though his worry remains an undertone, “I could carry you back to my car! Bridal style, nice and romantic!” He teases.

You shake your head- and quickly regret the decision. Strange, dizziness like this shouldn't last too long, and you even ate something today! But, you should be in good health, therefore, you push his hand away and force yourself to stand, “I can walk-”

A statement which is quickly proven false as you eat dirt. Or… concrete. Wood? It's hard to tell what you're now laying against, but it's certainly something more solid than how you feel. Or, how you would feel, if your consciousness didn't slip as fast as your feet.

Aventurine stares down at your limp (dead?) body, frozen with a stupid smile before he crouches down, “...Friend?” He asks, mumbling a quiet apology as he presses two fingers to your pulse, the tension leaving his shoulders as he feels a consistent and steady flow of blood just under. He sighs, standing up and tapping his foot, “Oh… what to do with you, dearest troublemaker…?”

Opting to pick you up, as he suggested earlier, Aventurine leans down and scoops you into his arms, carrying you out to his car.

He stands over your bed. Sits down. Stands. Paces. Stands. He can't hold still, worry makes him sick, but he's worried over you being sick. You're hot to the touch; Aventurine replaces the towel he's set over your forehead (ignoring the fact that he did so only 3 minutes ago, his hands need to do something), wiping off his hands before he checks his phone, rereading Ratio's advice.

His eyes scan over the words from the doctor, lowering his phone to look between the text and your limp, ill body. Aventurine grits his teeth- you've been ill, but you haven't been eating. You passed out from the lack of food, a simple cold like yours won't make a person faint, but both are mixing together to make your condition much worse.

“...Skipping meals,” the hypocrite mutters to himself, “What were you thinking…” He shakes his head, standing up to go cook something.

You wake up to the smell of… soup. Soup, an utter mountain of blankets, and the walls of your room. It's a struggle to sit up, and the second you do Aventurine practically pushes you down, “No no no- stay down, it's not good for you,” he chides, “You know what is ideal for you? Liquids, salt, and actually eating a proper meal.”

You stare at him for a minute, “...How am I supposed to eat while lying down?”

…Aventurine blinks. He reaches over to tug down the blankets with a huff, “Touché. But after you finish, lie right back down- and don't forget to drink water, and stay under all of those blankets. I'm going to leave and buy some medicine for your cold.”

You swallow a spoonful of soup, chewing on a softened potato, “...I'm not dying,” you deadpan.

“You don't know that-” He toys with his gloves, tugging them down over his hands, “A common cold is much more deadly than anyone assumes. Finish that, your body needs it.”

You resent, not quite in a fighting mood. Picking through the soup, it seems to be some pre-packaged beef broth with a mix of potatoes, carrots, chicken. No noodles, though. Granted, the only kind of noodle in the house is spaghetti. You take another spoonful as Aventurine closes the door behind him.

You could've sworn you saw his hand shake for a moment.

Aventurine drops a bag near comically filled with medicines. He hands you most of the strange remedies, even child’s cough syrup and regular cough syrup- which you try to push off, before hacking up some of your own phlegm.

Sorting through his medicine, you end up taking a painkiller, the aforementioned cough syrup, and he manages to talk you into an antihistamine. Aventurine smiles, leaning back and cleaning his hands like he just finished with hard labor, “So, feeling better?”

“I just took them.” You lean over to grab your water bottle, taking another sip. Aventurine practically deflates, crossing his arms, before leaning forward to fuss with the way the blankets sit over your lap.

He brushes a gloved hand down your hair, smoothing it down, “You can't fault me for wanting my dearest friend to recover fast, can you? You wound my poor, aching heart.” He closes his eyes, clutching his own chest as though his heart were truly damaged by words alone.

“I don't need you to take care of me,” Your hands tense over the metal, head turning to the side, away from his hand, “I'll recover on my own. I don't need someone to dote on me.”

Aventurine slides his hand down to the opposite shoulder, pushing you back down to the bed. He leans down, pressing his face against your neck, down to your collar, “But isn't it nice? I bought out a whole pharmacy for you- well, not quite… But still, I'm treating you like royalty!”

Your hands push against his shoulders, “I don't want pampering, I don't want a pile of medicine I'll never use, I don't want to be treated like a hapless maiden in a tower!”

To your surprise, your pushing gets Aventurine to lift up. His expression is something you've never seen- on him that is- upset and conflicted. He blinks, stutters, stares, deciding to lean down once again, this time pressing his face to your stomach. Your strength fails you as you can barely push him off, his hands squeeze you before suddenly moving to a hug instead.

“...Just let me take care of you,” Aventurine pleads. It's weak, his voice is pathetic and small, you can feel his left hand shake as he grasps you like you'll fade into dust otherwise, “Please.”

He reaches up, interlocking fingers and- you don't have the heart to decline him further. You lightly squeeze his hand, “...Fine.”

You've recovered in due time, though… You stare at the very entertaining message from the doctor, containing an image of a poor, sickly Aventurine and text informing you that he had passed out.

#dragon queen writes #aventurine #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr aventurine #hsr x reader #aventurine x reader

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subwillsolace · 1 month ago

Text

-- -- --

Nico wakes up early, the next morning.

It shaves ten clean years off his life.

But he is on a mission.

He forces himself off of his pillow the second the sun rises, pausing curled up on the mattress, praying that he will be magically filled with a burst of energy great enough to drive him, triumphant, out the door and onto the tasks of the day. He is not, and he must crawl, weak-limbed and bleary-eyed, off of his bed, which he forgets is not on the floor and remembers when he is face down upon it, hands and knees aching, and just sits there for a moment, suffering.

"How the hell," he mutters to himself, fighting the urge to lie in prone position on the marble, "does he do this every morning --"

He supposes he has woken up early before. Although, on those occasions, he was either running for his life, which woke him up nicely, or pleasantly surprised by a hot, eager mouth on the side of his neck, on the dip of his clavicle; those mornings, frankly, are his favorite, and he mourns the loss of them with the same pain and grief he has mourned the deaths of close personal friends. What a life he has lived.

He drags himself to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He does not bother brushing his hair. He cannot even manage to force himself into anything but his boots, and stumbles, still half-delirious from sleep, to the barely-lit dining hall.

Will is there, dressed and humming, at his spot at the Apollo table. It is early enough that none of the other kids are up yet.

There is an extra plate, next to his.

Nico takes it for the hint that it is. It could be for Austin, or maybe Lou Ellen, since she likes to get up early, sometimes, but Will scoots over when Nico sits, and he has saved Nico the good green grapes.

"So here is the plan," he says, like there is nothing out of the ordinary. He links their hands together and swings his legs, humming.

Nico thinks: ??????

And then: Oh my gods don't push it lock in lock in lock in.

"The plan," Nico echoes, managing to eat one (1) grape and not choke. "Yes, the plan."

"Mhm. For tomorrow."

Nico looks at him, lost. He smiles, eyes twinkling and -- teasing, knowing, but says nothing. Only finishes the last of his breakfast, turns sideways on the bench, and starts playing with Nico's free hands. Nico shivers, letting him.

"You're not busy, right?"

"Nope," says Nico, even though he is. Sorry, Jason. He will be rescheduling. "Uh, I'm up for anything. Everything." He snaps his mouth shut before he can continue to embarrass himself. Will giggles, and it is worth the red cheeks.

Whoever is responsible for my forgiveness, he offers, to the Heavens at large, thank you, thank you, thank you.

He was genuinely kind of worried he was going to shrivel up and die. There's only so much abstinence a person can take.

"I just need you to be up before noon," Will says, pushing Nico's hair back. He squishes Nico's eyebrows in the process, a little, and seems to enjoy that, wiggling his fingers to bring forth weird expressions. Nico was not the only one a little lonely, it seems. Touch-hungry.

"I can do that," Nico says softly. He smiles when Will does, leaning up to kiss him, soft and gentle. Will sighs into his mouth, hand dropping limp between them. "Any reason?"

"Surprise."

"Oh?"

"Mhm. Eat your grapes. Be up by noon, and do what I tell you." "Aye, aye, cap'n," Nico says, doing a Vulcan salute instead of a normal one just to see the pleased little look on his nerd face. And then he turns, dutifully, to his grapes, and they taste better than they ever have before.

-- -- --

Because Nico is only allowed one blessing from the gods per business year, he doesn't get to see Will for the rest of the day. There schedules are different, which usually wouldn't stop them -- Nico is genuinely called 'Skip' by some of the older campers for the sheer amount of times per week that he plays hooky to go bother his boyfriend -- but someone has to go and fall on their own sword, or something, and Will spends half the day in surgery.

"You're such a leech," Austin says in fond exasperation, pushing him, for the third time, out the door. "You have, like, a job, dude. There are fifteen armed children currently destroying the amphitheater with swords. Go…handle that."

"It's an illness," Nico begs. "There is something wrong with me. I actually can't handle not being around him. I'm going to die."

Austin succeeds in shoving him over the threshold. Nico fights the urge to hit his knees and beg for mercy. He feels possessed.

"Austin -- no, wait, Austin, listen -- Austin -- Austin have you ever been dehydrated --"

"Oh my gods --"

It is probably a small mercy that Austin slams the door shut. There is only so much dignity left for Nico to grip onto, after all, and it was leaking out of him at speeds he does not want to consider. It takes strength, to drag himself away from the infirmary -- he keeps thinking, for no fucking reason, of the kind of knobbly shape of Will's knees, and how they are freckled, still, and always bruised -- and stumble over to the amphitheatre, where he is literally employed, as in, on pay roll, to teach children how to fight with swords. Soon as he hit eighteen and everything.

"Alright, brats," he says, clapping his hands together. The screaming children cease immediately. Thank the gods. "Today we are going to do a fun thing called Hunt Jason."

"Hunt Jason?" questions a younger kid -- Farrah, as of yet unclaimed. She is Nico's favorite because she is the most shamelessly bloodthirsty. It's hilarious. She has trouble with her 'r' sounds but really enjoys screaming I will reap your soul! at the top of her lungs when she charges. Does things to Nico's proud heart.

"Yes," Nico confirms. "It is this special field trip activity where I release you into the camp to hunt a demigod called Jason with swords."

"What are you going to do?" asks John, who is a son of a Athena and a little snitch.

"I am going to sit on a lawn chair in the common and evaluate your vibes," Nico tells him. "There will be a winner."

That gets John on board. Excellent. The other children were already foaming at the mouth with the word 'hunt', so Nico goes ahead and shows them a particularly embarrassing photo of Jason he carries around wherein he is wine drunk and redfaced and dressed as Superman. Nico loves Halloween.

He releases the children, shrieking bloody murder, onto the camp, setting up in his beloved lawn chair and sighing up at the sun. Life is good. It is afternoon, which means he will see his beloved again by dinner. And, this time, Will is not mad at him. They will probably even play footsie under the table until Kayla and Austin start pelting things at them. But even that will be worth it, because he will be beside Will again.

Fuck, maybe Lou Ellen is right.

He hears high-pitched, terrified shrieking quickly followed by fifteen ravenous, bellowing voices of success, right on time. He twists in his chair to confirm -- yes, there is Jason, running for his life, and the baker's dozen hungry bloodhounds close on his heels -- and as the circus rounds the bend of the cabin the dinner horn blows.

"Alright!" Nico bellows. "Brats A through O! Disengage! Go bother your counsellors! Remember, moral demigods show mercy!"

They do remember, groaning, and peel of the son of Jupiter, who, bravely, has managed not to sob and only stands with his eyes squeezed shut, accepting his death. The children run off and as soon as it's safe, Jason straightens, looking around with murder in his eyes.

Nico makes himself scarce.

"You're a bad influence," Kayla sniffs when he sits down. "I don't know why my brother hangs around you."

Nico flicks a forkful of broccoli at her. Austin sighs, gets up, and forces himself between them before this can escalate.

"We love you, Austin," chime Nico and Kayla together, "we're sorry, Austin."

"Both of you are insufferable."

Nico and Kayla meet each other's eyes over his head and grin. Mission accomplished.

But both Apollo kids look pretty beat, as it is. And Jason finally gives up trying to find the criminal behind his attack and stomps into the dining hall, glaring, so Nico busies himself with stuffing his face and avoids all eye contact for a minimum of thirteen minutes.

"So," he says, when thirteen minutes have passed, trying for nonchalance. It fails. "Will on his way?"

"Will tied the last stitch, washed his hands, and damn near passed out on the floor," Kayla reports. "He will not be joining us." She looks over at Nico's crestfallen face. "Could your heart break a little quieter, please, I'm trying to ignore my balanced meal."

"That's a plate of chocolate cake, right there."

"Shut up, Austin."

Nico tunes out their bickering. He is a little embarrassed by the genuine despair he is feeling but he -- fuck, he was looking forward to this. To time with Will.

He used to, like…fight werewolves.

He used to fight gods.

"There, there," Austin says, patting his shoulder. "Uh, if it helps any, he cursed you a few times when he was mad. So." Austin pats him again. "Your suffering might just be the residual effects of Will praying that you would feel the hunger of ten thousand men for ten thousand eternities."

That does make Nico feel better, slightly. Will is actually pretty good at cursing people and has nailed Nico with a couplet hex on more than one occasion. He is also fond of sending everyone who ignores his medical advice away itching. It's very cute when it is not directed at Nico. He gets this sweet little murderous look in his eye and everything.

But that's not it.

Nico knows what it feels like to be on the receiving end of Will's curses. They don't quite shock, like Lou Ellen's, but more burn -- like falling asleep in the sun and walking up so hot you're sure you've gone red. And there's none of that, anywhere, wasn't even when Will first stomped out of his cabin, several days ago now, half-naked and cussing him out to high heavens. Whatever furious prayers he offered went unanswered.

Nico is just desperate.

And a little blueballed, maybe.

"I'm gonna go check on him," he says, shoving the last of his pizza in his mouth. Kayla glares at him in warning -- "Wake him up and you die, di Angelo, I only pinkie-swore not to hurt you when Will made me, I never swore on the Styx." -- but Nico is let go with no serious threats, and he jogs to the Apollo cabin with more speed than is maybe necessary. It is dumb and stupid and he's bound to let himself down again, but he's half-hoping Will was implying something else, when he told his siblings he was sleeping. Something that hopefully does not involve his pants.

But he was not. Nico pokes his head in, hopeful, and sighs as the low evening light spills onto Will's sleeping form, blankets up over his head.

"You're gonna suffocate," Nico whispers, smiling, pulling back the covers so they rest at his chin. He leans down and kisses his newly exposed forehead, lingering, listening for the puff of his boyfriend's breathing, the half-coherent mumbling. Nico catches his own name and smiles wider. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

He presses one last kiss to his sleeping cheek and stands, tiptoeing out of the cabin and closing the door tightly behind him.

Another lonely night, he supposes. But he thinks of Will's instructions -- up by noon, be ready for something -- and smiles.

One more lonely night, he can handle.

-- -- --

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dragonridersandhighlords · 2 months ago

Text

Chasing Shadows | T W O

masterlist | CS Masterlist

Summary: Amid challenges, Threshing, and RSC, Wrenley begins to question where she belongs in a world constantly demanding more than survival.

Word Count: 8.6k

Series Warnings: smut 18+ MDNI, violence, death, swearing, torture

Chapter Specific Warnings: descriptions of bruising, dislocated joints, and interrogation induced harm, jealousy, insecurity, isolation, psychological intimidation, relationship strain

previous part

I emerged from the leadership meeting, the heavy oak doors swinging shut behind me, with a loud sigh. Garrick and Bodhi flanked me when Dain tried to stop me, following behind through the doors. I brushed him off as Bodhi offered a half assed excuse about him and Garrick needing to talk to me privately. A faint flash of disappointment crossed Dain's features, but I kept my focus off him, still too upset with him.

The halls were fairly quiet this time of day. Second and third-years received a longer break between breakfast and Battle Brief now that the first-years were taking Professor Kaori's class in preparation for Threshing at the end of next month. Unfortunately, our meeting went over and we now have to go straight to class.

I pester Garrick as we walk, pleading for any hint of what happens in RSC. Both he and Xaden have been ignoring my questions.

"Are you seriously not going to even give us a hint about RSC?" Bodhi pressed.

"You two will do fine in that class, don’t worry about it," Garrick replied, laughter dancing in his voice, but his nonchalant demeanor only stoked the fire of our frustration.

I shot him a challenging glance, unable to stifle the smile tugging at my lips as I bumped my shoulder against his, but he stood firm like a stone wall. "If you would just give us a hint, we’d do better than fine,"I say, the playful defiance in my tone as bright as the laughter echoing down the corridor.

"You won’t get me to break, Little Bird. RSC is a class you have to learn on your own," Garrick declared. I groaned, the sound a mix of irritation and affection. I reach up, grabbing onto the fabric of his shirt, letting my weight lean against him. In an instant, Garrick laughed and effortlessly swung me over his shoulder.

"What the fuck! Garrick, put me down!" I squealed, laughter bubbling up uncontrollably as he continued his leisurely stride. "Bodhi!" I yelled, my voice a mixture of mock outrage and delight, begging for my best friend's help.

"Absolutely not!" he chuckled, his mirth making it clear that he was far too entertained to intervene. “This is too entertaining.”

“Where’s Xaden when you need him?” I pouted, letting my body go limp against Garrick's shoulder, his strength both comforting and infuriating.

Laughter erupted from both of them, a bright chorus that danced around us as we navigated the halls. Finally, Garrick returns me to my feet, a patronizing pat on my head accompanying the gesture. I growled playfully in response, earning a chuckle from Bodhi. We file into the Battle Brief classroom, preparing for another day.

“Looks like this is mine now. Enjoy your nap,” Rhiannon teased, her voice a melodic taunt as she plucked a dagger from her sparring partner’s unconscious grasp, affectionately patting his head like a pet.

I chuckled, unable to suppress the joy that bubbled up at the sight. “She might be better than you, Xay,” I said, my gaze flicking over to my boyfriend.

“No one is better than me,” he shot back with a playful challenge in his eyes.

“Except me?” I raised an eyebrow at him, a smirk playing on my lips. He just smirks back before our attention is drawn across the room.

“You’ll pay for that.” Across the mat, Jack retreated, leaving Violet to collect her daggers—one poised at the perfect height for a headshot, the other dangerously close to a far more sensitive target.

I couldn't help but admire her audacity; this girl was a force of nature.

Dain scolded her from the sidelines, his voice stern yet laced with exasperation, but my eyes darted back to Xaden, who remained fixated on Violet and Dain with an intensity that hinted at a deeper connection. I felt a pang of something—was it jealousy? Concern?

“Sorrengail. Seifert,” Emettario's voice sliced through the murmurs, signaling the start of the next match.

Oren Seifert, First Wing. My instincts kicked in as I recognized his name; he's a friend of Barlowe’s. Which means this little shit is gonna kill Violet.

“Don’t take this personally, but you’ll only be a hazard to your wing,” Oren taunted, circling her with a predatory grace. I sensed the tension building, an electric pulse in the air, and as he charged, my instincts screamed for intervention. Helping Violet wouldn’t hurt, would it?

But just as I reached for the mental lock on the door, I realized something—Oren’s movements had slowed, almost sluggish. That definitely wasn’t me.

“I’m no more a hazard than you are,” Violet shot back, pulling a dagger from her sheath with a fierce glint in her eye.

Oren, undeterred, shook his head, his voice dripping with disdain. “My sister is a healer. I’ve heard your bones snap like twigs.”

“Why don’t you come find out?”

What the fuck is happening? The question spiraled through my mind, echoing louder than the cacophony of gasps and murmurs around the sparring mat. I watched in disbelief as Oren’s body twisted, his face contorting into a mask of distress as he slapped a hand over his mouth.

Then, in an instant, he pivoted. With a primal snarl, he charged at Violet, swinging his blade down with reckless abandon. My heart raced in anticipation but Violet was ready. She slipped to the left, her movement fluid and almost graceful, dragging her dagger along his side just enough to draw blood, then following the attack, she unleashed a powerful kick to his back, sending him careening to the ground.

There was a fleeting moment of silence, the world around us suspended in time as Violet sprang forward. She dropped her knee into Oren’s back with a thud that echoed through the air, and pressed her blade against his throat, the cold steel a reminder of her control. “Yield,” she demanded, her voice steady and unwavering.

Holy shit, I did not see that coming.

“No!” Oren shouted, but his defiance was undercut by the violent retch that followed, his body betraying him as he fought the nausea rising like bile in his throat.

“Oh my gods,” Rhiannon exclaimed, her voice laced with both concern and disbelief, mirroring the shock that gripped the room.

“Yield!” Violet’s voice rang out again, more insistent this time, yet Oren’s body was locked in a battle of its own, convulsing as he fought to regain control.

“I’m gonna be sick,” I muttered, my heart racing and stomach twisting. I turned towards Xaden, resting my forehead against his arm, trying to block out the sounds from Oren.

“He yields,” Professor Emettario declared.

“Are you okay?” Imogen’s voice was soft and warm, her hand gliding along my back in a soothing motion, but I shook her off.

“Fine,” I replied, forcing myself to take a deep breath, my chest rising and falling as I fought the residual waves of adrenaline. Standing up straight, I attempted to project an air of calm that I didn’t truly feel. “I’m fine.”

Xaden’s laughter was soft and tender. He took my hand, entwining our fingers with an ease that felt both intimate and reassuring. “Let's go get you some water.”

Violet won all of her matches by the end of August. I had followed her lead, winning all my bouts as well, but as I mentally prepared for the challenge ahead, I felt a different kind of pressure. Today, I was challenging Jack Barlowe.

“Did you purposefully tell Xaden you were skipping today so he wouldn’t be here?” Bodhi questioned, his brow furrowed in concern. “How did you even know you were going against Barlowe?”

I wanted to tell him the truth, that Violet had whispered it to me in passing, her knowing smile giving away secrets that only she seemed to hold. But those words remained unspoken. I didn’t want to dwell on how she had acquired such information, instead, I felt grateful for trusting her instincts.

“If Xaden were here,” I said, my voice steady as I slid my waterskin into my bag, “Jack would use that against me, just like he’ll exploit Xay’s absence today. But I’ll be ready for it because I hold all the cards.” I squared my shoulders. “I have to do this on my own. Next year, Xaden won’t be here to finish my fights if I falter. I’m already a target; let's make it smaller.”

Stepping onto the mat, I gripped my dagger tightly in my left hand. As I readied myself, I locked eyes with Jack, waiting for him to make the first move.

“Where’s your precious Wingleader, Tavis? Don’t want him to see you get your ass handed to you?” Jack’s taunt sliced through the tension, his laughter echoing in the sparsely populated arena as we began to circle each other, his feet crossing over the other with each step.

Amateur. I smirked, forcing my feet to remain side by side, balanced and ready. “Nope. I can handle you fine on my own.”

“Sure, Signetless. You really can.” With a swift jab, Jack lunged at me. I sidestepped just in time, feeling the rush of air as his blade whooshed past. I countered, bringing my own dagger down along his forearm, the sharpness biting into his skin and drawing blood. “You bitch.” His sneer was venomous, yet I could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes as he pulled his hand back.

“I don’t need a signet to know you leave yourself open.” I taunted, my heart racing as I bounced on the balls of my feet, maintaining my momentum in the dance of combat. “Scared of a little blood, Barlowe?”

“You’ll regret taunting me,” he growled, his eyes narrowing.

“How about you actually hit me and I’ll say sorry?” I laugh, my voice ringing with confidence as I settle my feet at a precise angle, poised to dodge yet equally ready to strike. Jack charges toward me, blades gleaming ominously in each of his hands.

He swings his left arm first, a desperate attempt to catch me off guard. I react instinctively, using my left arm to deflect his blade with a sharp thud, the impact reverberating through my body. In a fluid motion, I drop my dagger into my right hand, my focus narrowing as I swipe it across his thigh. The sharp edge bites into his flesh, drawing a gasp of surprise and causing him to stumble backward, the dagger in his right hand clattering to the ground.

“Ready to give up yet? Or should I apply more pressure?” I taunt, a smirk playing on my lips as I flip my blade from my right to my left hand, closing the distance between us as he lands unceremoniously on his backside. His eyes blaze with defiance, but I can see the doubt creeping in. In a last-ditch effort, he lunges for my ankle, his left hand wielding the dagger with reckless abandon. But I act quickly, dropping my foot onto his wrist, my weight pressing down hard, forcing him to relinquish his weapon. I bury my knee into his chest, pausing the breath he took as I kneel over him, twisting his other arm over his body. “Yield, Barlowe,” I commanded, my voice steady and unwavering.

“Not to you.” His defiance is punctuated by a defiant spit aimed at my face, but I remain unfazed, pulling his arm further, feeling the strain in his muscles.

“Yield before your shoulder dislocates,” I warn, my tone darkening as I apply more pressure.

“No!” he grunts, determination shining in his eyes.

“Suit yourself.” I brace myself for the final pull, the sickening pop of dislocation ringing in my ears as I watch his arm drop limp beside him. “Final chance,” I warn, flipping my blade to hold it with the edge beside my pinkie. I push my foot further into his wrist, my knee pressing into his chest, the blade poised dangerously close to his throat. “Maybe I should kill you for all the cadets you’ve killed in the last month.” I lean in, the challenge evident in my gaze. His spit rolls down my cheek, but I swallow my disgust, determined to maintain control. “Or you can yield now. Choose.”

“I—” he gasps quietly, desperation creeping into his voice as he tries to pull his hand from beneath my boot.

“I can’t hear you, Barlowe.” The words slid from my lips like ice as I pressed my blade harder against the pulse of his throat, the cold steel biting into his skin. His eyes widened, panic flickering across his features as the air was stolen from him, each breath a desperate gasp.

“I yield!” he shouted, the sound erupting from his throat like a lifeline as I barely lifted my knee off his chest, allowing a precious sliver of air to rush back into his lungs.

“Good boy.” A smirk danced across my face as I playfully patted his cheek with the flat of my blade, the gesture both mocking and victorious. With a fluid motion, I stood and moved across the mat, my heart still racing from the adrenaline coursing through me. I scooped up Jack’s forgotten blade, the weight of it feeling oddly satisfying in my hand. Turning, I caught sight of Bodhi’s dumbfounded expression, and laughter bubbled from my chest. “Easier than I thought.” I flipped the new dagger expertly before sliding it into a sheath alongside my own.

“I bet it was.” The voice sliced through my moment of triumph, and I froze, my heart skipping as I looked behind Bodhi to see Xaden leaning casually against the wall, his eyes narrowed like a hawk assessing its prey. “Skipping class, huh?”

“Oh shit, you are so screwed,” Bodhi chuckled, his grin wide as I shot him a warning look.

“Corrie and Sorrengail.” I quickly redirected my focus to Violet’s match, the anticipation crackling in the air, pushing aside thoughts of Xaden for later. Yet, as I focused on violet, I unlocked the door to his mind and his smooth voice flew in.

“Thought we didn’t lie to each other, Little Bird?”

A cadet hurried over, whispering urgently to Emettario, who then turned to speak with an apologetic expression. “Sorry, Violet. You were supposed to challenge Rayma, but she’s been taken to the healers because she can’t seem to walk in a straight line.”

“That’s too bad.” Violet winced, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “Should I just…”

“I’m happy to step in.” Xaden’s voice, smooth and confident, came from just behind me, sending a shiver down my spine.

My instincts kicked in, and I shouted down the channel, “The hell you are!”

“You sure?” Emettario asked but Xaden merely smiled, his resolve unshakeable.

“Absolutely.” And just like that, he stepped onto the mat, a predator ready to pounce.

“You are all in for a treat,” Professor Emetterio announced with a clap, his excitement palpable. “Xaden’s one of the best fighters we have. Watch and learn.”

“Xaden.” My voice was a low warning, laced with concern.

“A little out of her league, don’t you think?” Dain’s voice came from the opposite side of the mat, a challenge wrapped in disbelief.

“Relax, Aetos. She’ll be in one piece when I’m finished teaching her.” Despite his focus on Dain, Xaden’s words felt like a promise directed at me, and it did nothing to settle my nerves.

“Xaden.” I called out again, my voice tinged with urgency.

“I hardly think it’s fair—” Dain interjects, a frown etched deep on his brow, but before he can finish, Xaden fires off a retort, sharp as his blades that he sets in my arms.

“No one asked you to think, squad leader.”

Since he’s ignoring me mentally, I choose to break the silence aloud. “Xaden, seriously, this isn't right.” My voice barely rises above a whisper, yet the sincerity behind it echoes in the space between us, desperate for his attention.

“She’s won every challenge, Wren. Don’t think she can handle herself?” Xaden smirks, that infuriating grin dancing across his lips as he removes his daggers, sliding them into my own sheaths like a practiced ritual.

“She snaps like a twig; one wrong move, and you could kill her. You know it.” The words tumble out, my heart pounding with concern.

“Then I’ll have to be careful, won’t I?” He turns back to Violet, his smirk unwavering, as though his confidence alone can shield her from harm.

Violet pulls one of her own daggers, her stance fierce and ready. “You don’t think you’ll need those?” she asks, her voice steady despite the tremor of excitement in the air.

“Nope. Not when you brought enough for the both of us.” I can't see his face, but I can picture the teasing smile curling at the corners of his mouth. He gestures playfully, fingers curling in an invitation. “Let’s go.”

Violet hesitates for a heartbeat before one of her daggers is flying through the air, aimed directly at Xaden’s chest.

He catches it midair, the fluidity of his movements both impressive and unsettling. “Already seen that move,” he quips, his tone drenched in mockery. As Violet lunges again, desperation fueling her strikes, I feel my stomach twist, the thrill of the impending clash sitting heavy in my chest.

Xaden easily dodges her blade, catching her leg and forcing her to the ground with a swift motion. The sound of her blade skittering across the mat is painfully audible as it lands at Dain's feet.

Violet lunges once more, the blade gripped tightly in her hand, aiming for his thigh, but Xaden intercepts, catching her wrist with ease. He disarms her effortlessly, tossing her weapon away like it’s an afterthought, and I can’t shake the feeling of unease creeping back in.

“Going for blood today, Violence?” Xaden whispers, his voice low and intimate, sending a shiver down my spine. If they were anywhere else on the mat besides in front of me, I wouldn’t have heard that, but I do—and the way he says it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

“My name is Violet,” she says through clenched teeth.

“I think my version fits you better,” Xaden replies, an edge of amusement threading through his tone as he rises to his full height, releasing her wrist. Yet, in a gesture that carries both challenge and invitation, he offers her the same hand, that glint of mischief still dancing in his eyes. “We’re not done here.”

Violet, breathing heavily with a mix of defiance and reluctance, takes his hand. But as soon as she’s upright, Xaden twists her arm behind her back with a fluid motion, pulling another of her blades from its sheath in a single, practiced move.

“Damn it!” She snaps.

My heart races as I watch Xaden lean down, his lips brushing close to her ear, a whisper meant only for her. A mix of emotions surges within me, and my chest tightens at the sight—his expression momentarily softening as he draws her into his orbit. The world around us falls away, and all I can think about is their proximity, the way Xaden’s eyes fluttered, revealing a depth I hadn’t anticipated. The air feels heavy, and suddenly, I can’t breathe as I witness their movements unfold.

I watch as they tumble, Xaden landing atop her with a weight that seems both possessive and commanding. One arm presses against her throat, while the other pins one of her arms above her head. The intensity of the moment is palpable, charged with an energy that crackles between them.

When his face is mere inches from hers, the world blurs into the background, and I feel a rush of heat and uncertainty. Unable to stay, I drop his weapons into Imogen’s waiting arms, turning away from the scene that gnaws at my insides.

“Can you meet me on the flight field?” I reach out to Desa, my breath coming in rough, uneven gasps as I quicken my steps, desperate to escape.

“Everything alright, Wise One?” Concern floods our bond, her protective instincts flaring like a beacon. I know she would fiercely defend me, give Sgaeyl hell if need be, but right now, I just want to escape, to forget.

“Fine, I just need a flight to clear my mind.”

“Very well. We can practice your maneuvers then.” When Desa refrains from pressing further, I realize she truly understands my need for solitude.

We spent at least an hour suspended in the vast, open sky, the sun a blazing orb painting the horizon in hues of gold and crimson. As we soared, the world below melted into a tapestry of greens and browns, a swirling canvas that demanded my attention. Desa guided me through the maneuvers from yesterday’s class, her powerful wings beating with a steady rhythm that filled the air with an exhilarating rush. Each twist and turn required my utmost concentration, a welcome distraction that kept the tears at bay.

Finally, with a gentle thud, Desa descended onto the flight field, her body shifting beneath me as I slid off her back. I took a moment to steady myself, the ground feeling solid and reassuring beneath my feet. But before I could take a step away, I found myself halted by Desa’s leg firmly blocking my path. A low growl rumbled deep within her chest, and I raised an eyebrow, uncertainty gnawing at me.

“Desa?” I questioned, my voice barely above a whisper.

“The Shadow Wielder approaches,” she replied, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the horizon.

Before I could process her warning, Xaden’s voice cut through the air like a blade. “Wrenley! Where the hell have you been?” His tone was a mixture of concern and exasperation as I stepped carefully around Desa’s arm, attempting to reassure her with a soft:

“I’m fine.”

Yet, Desa remained vigilant, her muscular frame poised, ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice.

“I went for a flight,” I shrugged nonchalantly, although I felt a twinge of guilt. “I needed to practice my maneuvers.”

Xaden scoffed, halting a few feet away as a puff of steam erupted from Desa, a warning in her posture.

“That's close enough,” she growled, even though Xaden isn't privy to her words

“You’re one of our best riders, Wren. You don’t need to practice.” His eyes searched mine for answers, but I remained silent, shifting to step around him. His hand shot out, catching my elbow, drawing an immediate reaction from Desa.

“Not the time, Desa!” he barked, his frustration palpable, yet I felt a strange comfort in the urgency of his tone.

“Tell him he’s lucky I like Sgaeyl so much. Otherwise, he’d be dead for touching you the way he is,” she relayed through a growl, her gaze unwavering as I tell Xaden the words.

I watched as Xaden sighed, a mixture of confusion and concern etched across his features. “What did I do, Little Bird?”

“You sure you don’t want to just spend more time with Violence?” I scoffed, tugging my arm from his grip, the words escaping me before I could think them through.

“You can’t be serious, Wren. You’re jealous over a challenge?” he questioned, a hint of disbelief coloring his tone.

“Jealous?” I laughed, though the sound felt foreign to me, tinged with an edge of anger. “More like furious at the way you looked at her.”

“Wrenley, why are you jealous of Violet?” His voice softened as he reached out, hands cupping my face, grounding me in a way that felt both intimate and frightening.

“I don’t know,” I murmured, feeling the weight of his gaze bore into my very soul.

“What’s to be jealous of when I’ve only ever wanted you?” Xaden's voice wrapped around me, his words a soothing balm amidst the turmoil churning within my heart. The intensity of his gaze pinned me in place. I could feel the weight of his desire, heavy yet tender, anchoring me to this moment.

“I know it was irrational. That’s why Desa and I went on a flight, so I wouldn’t do something insane.” My voice trembled slightly, betraying the whirlwind of thoughts and feelings that battled for dominance within me. I gripped his shirt in my fists, the fabric coarse against my palms. "Can we please drop it?" I pleaded, desperate to ignore my swirling emotions, but even as I spoke, a few silent tears slipped down my cheeks.

In an instant, Xaden’s hands were there, gentle yet firm as he brushed the tears away. His touch was electrifying, stirring a fluttering warmth in my chest. “When you admit that I’m yours, and you’re mine,” his voice is low, resonating in the stillness of the evening.

I inhaled sharply, my breath hitching in my throat as the reality of his words sunk in. “I’m yours and you’re mine. Nothing will change that.” I tried to summon a smile, something soft and sweet to lighten the heavy air between us, but the shadows still clung to my heart, threatening to extinguish the flicker of light that his presence ignited.

But before I could dwell on my doubts any longer, Xaden closed the distance between us, his lips brushing against mine—a fleeting yet potent spark. The kiss was a promise, and my heart raced, urging me to surrender to this moment, to believe in the truth of those words.

“Nothing.” His voice was a mere whisper against my lips. He pulled away, his eyes still locked on mine, searching for something, what I'm not sure. “Now come on, it’s dinner time.”

I nodded, intertwining my fingers with his as he led the way to the gathering hall.

I was going to attend Gauntlet training today, but the chaos of the ambush outside my dorm and now waking up under the bright, relentless beams of the sun is apparently when I’m destined to find myself.

As I blink away the remnants of sleep, I look around, squinting against the sunlight, and spot Dain and Imogen. They stand nearby, their expressions a mix of concern and annoyance, surrounded by a few of the other second-year riders from our squad, all of us still piecing together the morning's frantic events. Across the clearing, the familiar blue colors of the Infantry Quadrant stand out against the greenery, a few healers stretch and yawn as they shake off sleep, and I even spot a scribe, his parchment crinkled and waiting for ink as he emerges from his slumber.

“Everyone okay?” Dain calls out, lending a hand to a couple of riders as they struggle to their feet. His gaze turns to me, and he extends a hand, but I smack it away, rising to my feet with a determined huff.

“We’re fine, where are we?” I ask, brushing off the damp blades of grass that cling stubbornly to my pants.

“And why are they here?” A voice breaks through the murmur of confusion—Quinn Hollis, I think her name is. She glances at the Infantry with a mix of suspicion and curiosity.

“Why are you here?” one of the Infantry shouts back, but before a spat can brew, our RSC teacher strides in, his demeanor calm and authoritative amidst the gathering tension.

“Welcome to Land Navigation,” he announces with a broad smile, his assistants bustling behind him, distributing waterskins and maps like a conductor leading an orchestra. “For this part of RSC, riders, you’ll be working with the other quadrants. Infantry is advanced at Land Nav, Healers are here in case of an incident, and, of course, a Scribe to document everything.”

A ripple of questions flits through the crowd, and one male second-year rider speaks up, skepticism dripping from his tone. “So, what's the point?”

“There is a very high probability that you’ll get separated from your dragon in the middle of the battlefield,” he explains, his voice steady. “Anyone could be out there with you. You’ll have to learn to work together to make it to the extraction point on your map in two days using all of your strengths. Good luck.” With that, he turns and retreats back to the cart he arrived on, leaving us in the clearing, confusion hanging in the air like a thick fog.

“Desa?” I called out.

“This class is pointless when I could fly to you right now,” she replies, her annoyance tangible even from afar.

“Do you have a clue as to where we are?” I ask her, peering over Dain’s shoulder at the map he clutches, the lines and markings unfurling like a story waiting to be told.

“South of Basgiath. Just on the other side of the mountains.”

I leaned over the crinkled map in Dain's hands. “Desa says we’re here.” My voice was low, almost a whisper as I pointed at a spot on the map. “Basgiath is just on the other side of the mountain range.”

Dain squinted at the map, brow furrowed in concentration. “Cath confirms,” he murmured. “So we just need to go east to reach the extraction point?”

“We’re obviously west! Look at the mountains!”

“Look at the sun! We’re clearly to the north!” The Infantry cadets were locked in a heated debate, their voices rising and falling in a cacophony of confusion, hands pointing and maps being shoved together, each claiming to have the correct answer.

“Can we leave them?” I inquired aloud, my voice barely cutting through the noise as I took a sip from my waterskin. The cool liquid sloshed against my throat, but it did little to quell the rising anxiety within me.

“I’m with Wren. They’re already on my nerves.” Imogen’s arms were crossed, her stance firm as she leaned against a tree, her eyes flickering over the commotion with a mixture of irritation and amusement. The tension in the air was palpable, thick as the looming clouds gathering overhead, as we watched the cadets begin to throw punches.

Suddenly, a rustle from the underbrush caught my attention, followed by a low growl that sent shivers racing down my spine. “Was that…” I started, my voice hitching as I slowly turned to glance over my shoulder.

“Dragon!” A shrill voice cut through the chaos, and we all turned as one to behold the glowing eyes of a green dragon peering out from the shadows.

“No one moves!” Dain’s voice thundered, slicing through the panic. “Eyes to the ground. Do. Not. Run.”

The tension was electric; I could feel it crackling in the air as riders instinctively dropped their gazes, but behind me, I heard the high-pitched shrieks of two Infantry cadets. I turned in horror to see them frozen, their eyes locked on the dragon’s hungry gaze.

“Get down!” I shouted, my heart racing, but the warning came too late. In a heartbeat, the green dragon unleashed a torrent of flames. “Desa!” I yelled, desperation clawing at my throat.

“Already on it!” A flash of movement caught my eye as Desa barreled in, her powerful jaws clamping around the green dragon’s mouth, pinning it with a force that reverberated through the ground beneath me. “Now would be a good time to run.”

A wave of relief washed over me as I witnessed my dragon’s protective instincts in action, and I couldn’t help but sigh.

“I have never been more grateful for how protective Desa is.” Imogen laughs as she pulls up the fallen Infantry cadets.

“Everyone to the east! Let's go!” I shouted, urgency ringing in my voice as I positioned myself to ensure everyone made it to safety.

“This has to be against the rules,” Dain grumbled, his expression a mixture of disbelief and concern.

“Would you prefer to be dead?” I snapped back, adrenaline coursing through my veins. “They said we had to get to extraction the hard way in case we were separated from our dragons. But we’ll always have our bonds, so obviously we can use them.” I shrugged, leading the tail end of our group with determination. “They also never said anything about our dragons finding us first.”

“I’m just saying, Wren. You won’t always have Desa.” Dain’s voice was stern, a warning laced within the words. “We’re supposed to do this without them.”

“Dain, I can a hundred percent guarantee that the day you see me without Desa, I’m fucking dead.” My voice was low, fierce as I turned to meet his gaze, the intensity of my emotions pouring out. “Now let's go.”

I approached my room after finally making it back from Land Nav three days later. I'm in desperate need of a shower and at least 12 hours of sleep. As I reached for the door, a familiar laugh broke through the haze of my frustration.

“How was RSC?” Garrick’s voice rang out, teasingly lighthearted. The sound made my insides churn. I could almost feel the echo of his laughter resonating against my throbbing side.

I grumble a response, unable to mask my irritation and with a heavy sigh, I push open the door, the familiar scent of my room wrapping around me like a comforting embrace. I made a beeline for my bag, my fingers brushing against the fabric as I pulled it onto my shoulder. But as I turned to leave, a figure emerged from the shadows, causing me to jump and wince.

“Shit, Xay. Why are you sneaking around my room?” I exclaimed, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly at the sight of him.

His eyes narrowed, scanning me with an intensity that made me instinctively flinch. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice low and steady, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me. I felt the weight of his gaze settle on the hand I instinctively pressed against my side.

“I’m fine,” I sighed, forcing my feet to move towards the door, but Xaden wasn’t having it. He stepped in front of me, blocking my path with a quiet determination that sent a flicker of warmth through my chest. “Let me see,” he commanded gently, lifting my shirt with a careful hand. I winced at the sight of the blue and purple bruise blooming across my side, a testament to my futile attempt to break up the fight between the two Riders and an infantry cadet. I had thought I could step in, play the mediator, but instead, I had become collateral damage in their reckless skirmish.

“Who did this to you?” Xaden growled, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate in the air between us, thick with concern.

“Couple of idiots got into a fist fight during RSC, and I fell. Desa already scorched them. I’m fine,” I replied, attempting to brush off his worry with a wave of my hand, though the tremor in my voice betrayed the ache that settled deep within my bones. I tugged my shirt down, the fabric whispering against my skin, a futile attempt to shield the bruising beneath. “Can I go shower now?”

“Did the healers do anything?” His tone remained steadfast, scowling at my side as I made my way to the shower. I felt a flicker of annoyance at his persistence, the kind that made my heart ache with a blend of frustration and relief at his caring.

“It wasn’t going to magically heal with the worthless supplies they left us.” I sighed, pushing through the door to the bathroom, the cool air colliding with the heat of my anger, making me wince once more. Xaden reached up to hold the door, his body a sturdy barrier against my impatience.

I struggled to strip myself of the sweat-soaked clothes, the fabric clinging stubbornly to my skin, but Xaden was already moving, efficient and unyielding as he stepped closer. His presence was warm, grounding, and as he reached for the hem of my shirt, my breath caught in my throat.

“Let me help you,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, softening the edges of the moment. The way he looked at me, a mix of worry and fierce protectiveness, sent my heart racing. I froze, caught in the gravity of his gaze as he carefully pulled the shirt over my head. His fingers brushed against my skin like a whisper, moving down the length of my arms, slowly working the fabric over my hands, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps that ignited my senses.

His hands then ventured towards my pants, tugging down the fabric along with my underwear. Xaden, ever attuned to my needs, turned to adjust the water. I'm guided under the stream, the warm water pelting my muscles with a welcoming force, washing away the remnants of exhaustion and pain that clung to me like a second skin.

I let out a moan, my body responding to the warmth that penetrated deep into my sore limbs. Xaden’s hands moved with a deliberate ease, kneading my muscles and easing the tightness that had settled in.

His presence felt like a cocoon, shielding me from the world outside, as he moved to my hair, the cool droplets falling softly against my scalp. I leaned into him, surrendering to the sensation as he gently began to wash the matted mess that once was my braid, carefully working through the knots with nimble fingers. A sigh escaped my lips, the heat of the water chasing the exhaustion from my bones, but as he tipped my head back, the water cascaded over the sore muscles of my neck, sending a rush of pain straight to my brain.

“Oh Gods—” I cursed, my voice a hiss as the ache surged through me. “Hurts,” I mumble with a soft whine.

"I know, Little Bird. Just a little longer." Xaden’s promise wrapped around me, his tone soothing as he lathered soap against my body. His fingers continued to ease the ache in my muscles, the warmth of his touch seeping into my skin, creating an intoxicating blend of comfort and tenderness. He rubbed small circles against my hips, and as the pain began to drift away, I surrendered to the gentle waves of relief.

After several minutes of soothing kneads and relaxing circles, his fingers danced to my shoulders, and the pressure built into something else entirely—a different kind of ache that coiled tight in my chest, making it hard to breathe. Still, he didn’t stop, his hands traveling down to my fingertips, each caress delicate and intentional, igniting sparks that traveled along my skin like electricity.

He dropped my soap and rinsed my body off, a ritualistic cleansing that felt almost sacred in its intimacy. "Xay," I softly moaned as his hands smoothed over my skin, ensuring not a single bubble remained on me.

"All clean, Little Bird." He smiled, the warmth in his eyes melting away any remnants of discomfort. He shut off the water and wrapped me in a towel, his movements gentle yet decisive. "Let's get you to bed."

I nodded softly, leaning into him as he picked up my shower bag, my heart fluttering at the tender care he offered. It wasn’t until we stepped into the hall that I realized he was still dressed, the squish of his soaked boots echoing against the stone.

"Shit, Xay, you're soaked," I pointed out, the corners of my mouth tugging upward despite the situation.

"It's okay," he laughed softly, his voice a balm for my worries. “I’ll get you dressed and in bed, and then I’ll go change, okay? Don’t worry about me.”

His assurance wrapped around me like a comforting cloak, and soon I found myself settled in bed, donning an oversized t-shirt—probably one of Xaden's that I had stolen—and a pair of shorts. The exhaustion that clung to me was relentless, and I surrendered to it, drifting into a deep sleep almost instantly.

I haven’t spoken to Xaden since Threshing, a time that now feels like a lifetime ago. The memory of that moment lingers like a shadow in the recesses of my mind, deepening with every passing day. After I confided in him about the unsettling vision I had—seeing Jack and his reckless friends chase after the golden feathertail—Xaden and Sgaeyl vanished into the tangled embrace of the woods, as if the trees had swallowed them whole.

I placed Sgaeyl in the perfect vantage point to witness Violet's fierce defense of the smaller dragon, Inow, Violet stood intertwined with the mate of my boyfriend’s dragon, destined to be eternally tethered to each other, a connection so profound it seemed to dwarf the ties between Xaden and me.

I sealed his mental door, and began isolating myself. I filled my hours with distractions, lingering where I knew he wouldn't be, never allowing our paths to cross in the way they once had.

This weekend would be a respite from my attempts, since I find myself confined in a cell with my squad for the next RSC session—interrogations.

The key in the pack beneath my dresser.

We had been instructed to share a personal secret, an exercise meant to forge bonds and strip away facades. My squadmates offered the simplest revelations—whispers of weakness and insecurities. But when the circle turned to me, I found myself at a loss. The secrets I held felt heavy on my tongue, yet they couldn't surface. Instead, I uttered the thought that had plagued me for weeks, “I think Xaden and I are done.”

The words hung in the air like a weighty stone, drawing the gazes of my squad mates, their eyes wide with disbelief.

“I don’t believe it!” Imogen exclaimed, laughter escaping her lips before faltering as she caught sight of the tears pooling in my eyes. “Wren…”

“It’s nearly impossible to maintain a relationship outside the bond of mated dragons. You’re always stationed together; your connection exists because of the dragons. Violet and Xaden are destined for each other in the end.”

“That’s a shitty secret,” Cianna muttered, her voice dripping with disdain.

“I’m sorry, do you know something about me that I don’t? Please, enlighten me.” I snapped, hastily drying my tears, feeling the heat of anger rise.

“What’s your signet?” Heaton probed, genuine curiosity flickering in his eyes.

“Didn’t get one,” I replied too quickly, my heart racing.

“You bonded with your mother’s dragon and didn’t get a signet? I call bullshit,” Cianna chortled, her laughter echoing off the cold stone walls.

“We’re not doing this,” Dain interjected, his tone firm. “We’re a squad; we have to work as a team.”

“Then let Signetless take the brunt of the torture. Since we'll have to do the heavy lifting on the field,” Cianna shot back, her voice sharp as she kicked the solitary metal chair toward me.

“She’s our best fighter and a brilliant strategist. Just because she doesn’t have a signet doesn’t diminish her value,” Dain defended, as the cell door swung open, revealing our interrogator.

“Then put her in the chair, Cadet Aetos. If she’s as valuable as you claim, let’s see if she breaks,” came the cool, authoritative voice of our professor’s assistant as he stepped into the room, chains clinking ominously as they secured our squad to the back wall, leaving me bound to the chair like a sacrificial lamb.

“Tell me, Little Bird, do you break easily?” the interrogator murmured into my ear like a snake’s hiss.

“You haven’t earned the right to call me that,” I retorted, keeping my head defiantly turned away from him, my heart racing with adrenaline.

“Tell us the passphrases, and we’ll let you all go unscathed. Refuse, and we’ll ensure this pretty little bird can’t chirp anymore.” He says to those chained behind me.

“Don’t! I can handle it,” I warned my squad, my voice steady despite the unease bubbling within me. But before I could brace myself, a hand struck my cheek, jolting my senses.

“Always the hero, aren’t you?” he taunted, his grip unyielding as he forced my jaw to move so our eyes met. “Did you know we’re allowed to do our research before we interrogate? There’s a plethora of information about you out there, Wrenley.” His grip tightened, the pain radiating through my jaw, but I refused to show weakness. “The girl who bonded her dead mother’s dragon. The orphan of a rider who died for Navarre, and a healer who betrayed the very people his wife sacrificed her life to save. It’s all so tragic, really.”

“You know nothing of my parents,” I spat, the words spilling from my lips like venom. He merely brushed it off, tsking with a nonchalance that ignited my fury, his fist meeting my other cheek in a swift, punishing blow.

I tasted blood as it pooled in my mouth, the metallic tang sharp against my tongue. “I know plenty, just like how I know plenty about your boyfriend. I mean who doesn’t?” His eyes flickered toward the table against the wall, where a menagerie of blades lay waiting. Each one glimmered, reflecting the light with promises of pain and torment. “The son of the great betrayer, bonded to a mated dragon whose mate has a new rider.”

“You won’t break me,” I vowed, my voice strong as I spat out more blood, my resolve unwavering.

“Oh sweetheart, I don’t need to break you. But I can break him.” His gaze shifted to Dain, who was already struggling against his chains, a look of determination etched across his face. “He cares a lot, doesn’t he?”

“We’re not friends,” I muttered, just quiet enough for Dain to remain oblivious.

“That’s a shame.” The interrogator rested a blade against my thigh, pressing it into the fabric of my pants, the cold steel biting into my skin. “So, he wouldn’t break if you were near death?”

“Like you said, I’m a traitor’s kid—a marked one. Do your worst.”

“We’ll see,” he replied, a cruel smile playing on his lips as the air grew thick.

We didn’t break, we certainly didn’t escape either. Nolon had skillfully mended my cracked ribs and the deep gashes that marred my body like jagged scars on a weathered tapestry. Dain escorted me to my room, his orders echoing in my ears—rest and return to classes only when I was ready. Today, a full day later, I found myself traversing the corridors with Bodhi and Imogen. I understood all too well that my squad mates thought me as a hindrance to the quadrant, but I'm determination not to give them more reasons to resent my existence. So, I attended classes today.

As we made our way across the courtyard, my gaze flickered to the side where Violet and Dain were in a heated argument. In the shadows, Xaden lurked, his presence almost palpable, an unspoken tension clinging to the atmosphere around him. Just as he shifted, stepping toward me, a piercing scream shattered the fragile silence.

“Make it stop!” The voice belonged to a Third Wing first-year, panic etched across his face. His hands clutched his head, fingers tangled in his hair as he stumbled down the steps of the rotunda, desperation spilling from his lips like a prayer gone awry. “For gods’ sake, make it stop.”

Not again.

A ripple of concern surged through the crowd as cadets began to circle around the boy.

“Jeremiah!”

“You!” He spun around, fury igniting his features as he pointed accusingly at a third-year student, Grace, if my memory served right. “You think I’ve lost it!” His head tilted at an unnatural angle, reminiscent of a marionette whose strings had gone awry. His voice, once frantic, now shifted into a dissonant whisper, “How does he know? He shouldn’t know!” His frantic gaze darted from one face to another, until it landed squarely on Dain. “Is Violet going to hate me forever? Why can’t she see that I just want to keep her alive? How is he…? He’s reading my thoughts!”

I reached out mentally, trying to penetrate the veil of his turmoil, to ease the storm of worry raging within him after spotting Professor Carr's hurried steps.

“Get out!” Jeremiah commanded, his eyes locking onto mine with a fierce intensity. “It’ll be okay, just take a breath.” His tone was a soothing balm against the panic, but Jeremiah’s cries rang out again, “Get out of my head!”

“Do something,” I heard Violet plead, her voice trembling, and I knew it was Xaden beside her as the shadows began to creep ominously toward Jeremiah.

“Start mentally reciting whatever bookish shit you’ve learned.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Clear your thoughts! If you value your secrets, do it now,” Xaden ordered, his urgency palpable as he maneuvered through the throng to reach me. “Let me in,” he growled, shoving Bodhi aside as if he were nothing more than a fleeting shadow. I cracked open the door to my mind, and his thoughts flooded in, a torrential wave of urgency crashing over me. “We can’t save him. Leave his mind before you get exposed.”

“He deserves some peace for what Carr is about to do,” I countered defiantly.

“And you!” Jeremiah’s gaze locked onto Garrick, his despair palpable. “Damn it all to hell, he’ll know about—” But shadows coiled around Jeremiah’s mouth, silencing his frantic words. His eyes, wide and pleading, locked onto mine as I pressed down on his anxiety, forcing him to calm.

“Get out now before Carr kills him.” The urgency clawed at my throat, yet I held my ground as cadets began shouting accusations, branding him an inntinnsic. Then, with a sickening crack that echoed like a death knell, I was thrust out of Jeremiah’s mind. His lifeless eyes stared blankly at me as he fell, the finality of his existence crashing down like an avalanche of despair.

A harsh gasp tore itself from my throat, my breath caught in my chest, the taste of loss sharp and metallic.

“Breathe, Little Bird.” Xaden’s hand gripped my arm, grounding me as tears pooled in my eyes. I had felt Jeremiah die, had sensed the moment his soul met Malek in an unforgiving embrace. “Come on.” He guided me away from the circle, pulling me to the shadowy corner where the school’s walls met the aged buildings, a sanctuary amid chaos. “Talk to me, Wren.”

“Not… worried about… Violet now?” My words came out in jagged gasps, the sick feeling in my chest beginning to ease, if only slightly.

“Should’ve left his head on time,” Desa chastised, her voice laced with disappointment.

“You’ve been ignoring me for a month now, Wren. What is going on?” Xaden pressed, his gaze piercing through the fog of uncertainty that enveloped me.

“You and Violet have this connection that will never fade. I will always be a third wheel in my own relationship because if one of you dies, so will the other.” The words tumbled out, raw and unrefined, but I refused to shed tears over this again.

“How many times do I have to say that I love you? Only you. Always have, always will.” His desperation was tangible, a lifeline thrown in turbulent seas. “You are the love of my life, Wrenley! No dragon mating bond is going to change that.”

“But the way you look at her will,” I replied, my heart aching as his expression faltered.

“Xaden,” Garrick’s voice broke through, quiet but insistent. “We have to go.”

“Shit,” Xaden muttered, a flicker of frustration crossing his features as he trapped me against the wall, his intensity consuming the space between us. “We’re going to talk when I get back. I’m not letting you run from this. From us.”

“Xaden!” Garrick called again, urgency threading through his words as he reached for him, attempting to pull him away.

“Don’t bot—”

“We are not giving up until we talk.” Xaden’s hands cupped my face, a silent promise forged in the heat of the moment. “Promise me we’ll talk.” All I could do was nod, the weight of my own emotions heavy on my shoulders, before Xaden pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead and, with a final glance, took off running with Garrick, leaving me standing in the shadows.

next part

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midnight-mourning · 1 month ago

Text

Two for One Special

🐟🐟Midnight's DCA MerMay Day 9🐟🐟

FORGOT TO REVIEW EDITS AND POST THIS PLEASE FORGIVE ME-

Prompt: this was made for a friend who doesn't have tumblr who asked for 'possessive mermaid freaks who are soulmates with the reader' and I obliged. love u surreal hope you enjoy <333

DCFPU prompt used: Twins

Word Count: 2264

Content warning: mentions of death, blood, and possessive behavior

🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊

You take a peek outside your cave. Looking one way, then the other. Nothing around, save for some fish that are smaller than you. Good. This is good.

You take a couple of deep breaths, hyping yourself up. You can do this. Just out, find some food, then back inside. Easy.

You swim out, immediately feeling the absence of the safety of your cave. Nevertheless you continue on. You can't stay hidden forever, you'll die if you do. Or you'll just become even weaker than you already are.

You shake your head, focus. You search around the reef for something that'll be easy to grab, but also keep you full for a bit.

You hated feeling so paranoid all the time. It wasn't fair. Just because you were a bit weaker, smaller, you were a target. Constantly having to live in fear, wondering if you were going to survive to live another day.

The worst part of it was that you couldn't even enjoy the beauty of the world around you. The cerulean waters that shimmered with the sunlight above, the bright colored coral, the fish of all shapes and sizes you didn't even want to eat, just admire.

You see a flash out of the corner of your eye, a nice, tasty herring, perfect for breakfast. Focusing in on your prey, you don't realize the growing shadows that loom over you as you creep closer and closer to the fish.

You wait for the opportunity to strike, and when the moment comes you reach a clawed hand out, snatching it up in seconds. It thrashes about a little, then goes limp. Success.

As you're celebrating your catch to yourself, a sudden voice behind you speaks up.

"Do you have enough to share there, friend?"

You freeze, too caught off guard to turn around.

A chuckle, and a different voice. "Now, now, Sun. It's impolite to ask without even a hello."

"You're right, my mistake." A rush of water and suddenly you find yourself face to chest with a yellow and orange mer. He bends down, bringing his fin-encircled face eye to eye with you. "Hello, friend. I'm Sun. You wouldn't mind if I had a bite of that there, would you?"

The other mer still behind you snickers as you stare in stunned silence.

Of course, just your luck. Two mers, bigger and probably stronger than you, cornering you just outside your home. You swallow, trying to keep some level of calm. Best case scenario you lose your fish, worst case, your life. No pressure there.

You stutter out a response to the mer—Sun—whose orange fins flutter and twitch around his face. "Um, well I, I suppose that's okay I-I guess, uh—you know what, why do you just take it?" You move back a bit, offering out the fish in your hands to him. "I really wasn't that hungry anyway."

This seems to surprise him. Both of them, actually. You see Sun throw a confused glance behind you, you're guessing to the other mer. You ignore the mixture of embarrassment and outright fear in your stomach.

Finally it dissipates when Sun shrugs, grinning as he reaches for the fish in your outstretched hands. "Well, how very kind of you friend—" Your hands briefly touch, and he pulls away from you as if stung.

You panic then, turning around to swim away only to be faced with a blue and white mer, a sneer on his two-toned face. Twins, the two of them.

"Tricky little fish aren't you, pretending to be kind only to give poor Sun a shock. I won't be buying into it I'm afraid." He grabs your wrist then, and goes to pry the fish from you only to suddenly let go, jumping back from you as well.

You can only stare in confused mortification at the two of them, both wearing dazed and bewildered expressions. You, however, have no idea what's going on, because you're not poisonous or electrified in any which way. Would be great if you were though, especially given how they start to mumble to each other about something.

"Could it actually..."

The blue mer clutches his head. "After so long, so much searching..."

"And to think, just by random happenstance." Sun stares down at his hand, then turns his focus up to you, reaching out. "Sweetfin..."

You're not sticking around any longer to find out what they mean. You release the fish and quickly swim away as fast as possible. "S-sorry about that! Take the fish, enjoy it, have a nice day bye!"

You think they call after you but you're too busy swimming for your life to hear. You'd rather not get your scales rocked by two angry, bigger and stronger than you mers, thank you very much.

You make it back to your cave in one piece, breathing heavy. You spend the remainder of the day hiding inside, afraid those two might've followed you back, or worse, brought others back with them. By nightfall however you deem it's safe to go outside again.

You manage to snatch up an eel, scarfing it down while swimming back to your cave to lessen the risk of being caught. The night passes without issue, though you sleep very little if you're truthful. Constantly on edge, wondering if or when those two would be back to finish you off.

Over the course of the next several days, you find yourself increasingly paranoid as you realize you're being watched. Based on the flashes of blue and yellow you catch on the corners of your vision, it has to be them. Why they haven't killed you yet—or at least done something to you—you're not sure.

They knew where you live, knew exactly what you were getting up to in your day to day, and yet, nothing. If anything, they started to be... friendly, would be the best way to put it.

You noticed there would be little trinkets left around the entrance to your cave or the nearby reef area. Specific spots. Places you frequented quite often. Therefore it had to be intentional and given no one else was around, it could only be them.

Some were helpful, like a coral knife, or a seaweed wrap for the sand rash on your arm. Others were more, prize-like. Things you'd consider akin to courting gifts. Pearls, pretty shells, sea glass and more.

When you started finding literal fresh food is when you realized this was suddenly an attempt at courting. Leaving you completely confused. Going from bullying you out of your meal—and maybe killing you while they were at it—to now all the sudden courting you? It didn't make a bit of sense.

You were hesitant to accept any of it, it just felt... off, to you. You only really did out of fear of making things worse for yourself.

Where it began to cross a bit of a line for you was when you found the body of a dead mer resting in the sand outside your home. Tied up with a kelp bow, like a sick present of some kind. You couldn't understand it, were they back to threatening you now?

You can’t wrap your head around any of it until you accidentally make things much worse one day.

You’ve gotten a bit stir-crazy with all the monitoring you've been subjected to as of late. You’re actually feeling confident and desperate enough to explore the world outside of the bubble you've created for yourself. Needing some outlet to escape whatever game these two mers are playing with you.

You've gotten good at detecting when they are actually around or not, a bit of a sixth sense you've developed so to say. You simply wait for a time they aren’t watching, and swim off as fast as you can in a random direction.

You have no goal, no objectives in mind, you just want a bit of peace. You feel suffocated, tormented. Maybe that was their end goal, to send you down a spiral of confusion. If that’s the case, it’s working.

Regardless, you simply swim until you feel exhausted, and in all truthfulness it’s exhilarating. Exactly what you need, if you are being honest.

You collect yourself while sitting on a rock above a large reef. Taking your first breath of fresh water in what feels like ages. The view is beautiful, and you have a sudden appreciation for the world around you like never before.

Until that's disrupted, that is.

"What's a lost little fish like you doing out here?" A voice to your left.

Another on your right. "Something that they shouldn't, that's for sure."

You glance either way. These two aren't the ones that have been watching you for weeks. Different. And for that matter, likely more dangerous.

You're not taking any chances this time, you book it immediately towards the reef.

You hear them laugh and start to chase after you, taunting you as they do so. You swim as fast as you can, but you know they're bigger and faster than you could ever hope to be. You weave through the reef and manage to get a bit ahead, but quickly realize your best chance is to get back to your cave.

It's as you're turning back towards home that you find yourself slamming into a yellow chest. You jump back, but two large hands grab your arms, blue ones.

Sun bends down to meet your eyes, chuckling. "Well there you are, Sweetfin. We were worried. You disappeared so suddenly." His tone shifts, a little darker now. "It was almost like you were avoiding us, but that would be ridiculous, right Moon?"

"That doesn't sound like something they'd do at all. Not in the least bit." The other mer replies.

You don't know what to say, or how to say it. Now you really feel like you're going crazy.

Sun cups your cheek, smile a tinge sinister. "I think it's about time we had a heart to heart, wouldn't you say? For a soulmate you haven't been the most considerate, you know." A shout behind you and you startle. Sun glances towards the sound, smile turning sour. "Though maybe it'll have to wait."

He straightens, a glare on his features now. You're still trying to process what he said, stuttering over your words.

"I-soulmate, what are you-I don't-"

Moon chuckles, shifting to put his hand on your shoulder. "Going to take care of this one?"

"Only fair since you stole the other from me." Sun grumbles. "Keep them safe."

Another snicker. "But of course. I always do."

Moon—not so gently—guides you away then, keeping a tight grip on your wrist as you swim back the direction from which you originally came. All the while you're working on understanding several things all at once.

"So, he's..."

"We both are, actually. Quite the surprise but I'm not entirely opposed to sharing." Moon purrs.

"And so all of that was..."

"Trying to show our affections, courting, ...and a bit of an apology for trying to eat you." The last part is muttered, shameful.

You shake your head. "So you were going to eat me!"

"Before we knew, Star. Give us some credit." Moon tsks lightly, as if it was a casual manner.

You scoff. "Just because we're... apparently soulmates, doesn't mean I'll just forgive you for all that. I've been terrified for, for weeks!"

"And you almost ended up someone else's lunch today." Moon growls out. "Considering that means you almost left us alone for the rest of our lives, let's call it even."

You sputter in response, flustered and irritated all at once. You don't speak for the rest of your trip back to your cave, and it's only when you arrive there that you try to defend yourself once more.

"So, what, am I just-just meant to accept your word as truth and that's it then?" You hover around the entrance to your home, flitting, still undeniably wary. Even if what they said was true, that didn't mean you had to just go along with it.

Moon stares at you for a moment, then scoffs. And all of the sudden you find yourself being gripped by the throat as he sneers down at you.

The hold is firm, intimidating, but not the worst pain you've ever experienced. "For some reason, you can't seem to feel the connection like we can. It's disappointing, disheartening, really. We've searched and searched for you, you know. Scoured the seas, faced anything that dared get in our way. Considered giving up hope more than once." A tightening of his grip, a tilt of his head. "Do you know how overjoyed we were to have found you? The relief? And to have been so close to losing you because of our own actions... acceptance may take time on your part, but you should know, both of us are willing to wait as long as it takes."

You gulp, seeing the glint in his eyes and knowing exactly what it means. Moon grins, releasing you finally.

You're still rubbing your throat when you see Sun has returned, mouth red and flecks of blood flitting around off his face. You have one guess as to what happened to the mers that had been chasing you. If he's willing to do that—without hesitation—while you have absolutely no connection to him, you can hardly imagine what either of them would be like should you return their apparent... affections.

You swallow, as long as it takes, huh?

You can't say that you're looking forward to it.

🌊🎣🌊🎣��🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊

Shout out again to Surreal for the idea which has sparked other ideas that i'll indulge in.... one day, thanks for reading!

Masterlist post is here

@machopeach @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist @rosescarletful @buzzy-bee @hazelthebat @nightriverart @mr-munchies @sun-and-moon-fun

#fnaf dca #dca fandom #fnaf sun #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf moon #dca fic #x reader #sundrop #moondrop #dcfpu mermay #mermay 2025 #mm dca mermay #midnight mutterings #writing requests #guhhhhh so much work this week #but im soooo close to being done chat #were soooo close #cw blood #cw death

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my-mind-mansion · 5 months ago

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A slow, peaceful morning in bed with the Radio Demon

(Alastor x reader/cuddles/motivation/care)

{Since my bedtime fic got a few likes, I wanted to post it’s sister story. Hope you all enjoy my imagination!! Requests/story ideas??}

It was about an hour before you had to be up for the day and you were sound asleep in Alastor’s bed. He had let you sleep in his room last night. You were honored. You felt a hand in your hair, gently petting you. You could feel yourself waking up, leaving your dream realm to be met with Alastor’s kind smile. You gasped and nearly panicked. “Oh no!! Am I late?!“ you started to sit up.

Alastor gently pushed you back down on the pillow. “Shhh.. there’s no need to worry, my dear. I made sure you were awake in plenty of time. You can relax for a bit in my bed before you actually have to get up.” He said as you caught your breath from the adrenaline rush of thinking you were late.

He chuckled softly, inching closer to you and pulling you into his chest. He put a hand in your hair and his other hand on your back. “Give yourself a deep breath for me, dearest.” He said, his radio-filtered voice bringing you the warmest sense of comfort. You took a deep breath and then a peaceful exhale. That felt good. Your heart calmed as he rubbed your back.

You smiled up at him as your body was nearly limp in his arms already. He smiled down at you, speaking soft sentences to soothe your soul. “Good morning, sweetheart. I trust you slept well!” Your heavy eyelids, still fresh with sleep, were fighting to stay open. He chuckled under his breath as he played with your hair, encouraging you to take another deep breath.

You were so relaxed in his arms. You were basically drunk on him. The radio host had you under his spell as you clung onto every word he spoke. “I once read a story about a flower that blossomed and thrived, despite its poor environment. It rarely got watered and it’s pot was way too small. The poor bud was neglected and abused, but somehow the lovely bloom persisted on.” he rubbed your back.

You had been smiling up at him. He was so charming and knew how to evoke whatever reaction he was seeking. He continued on. “That flower is you, my dear. Despite all your troubles and heartache, you continue on. I’m so proud of you. You are so important to me. I wouldn’t let anyone else sleep in my bed, you know.” You blushed slightly as you nodded off, teetering between sleep and wake. Alastor chuckled as he noticed. “It’s alright, my delicate rose. Close your eyes. You have time.”

You had immediately fallen back asleep in his arms; all part of his plan. He had given you 30 minutes to go back to sleep after waking up. Those 30 minutes felt more like 4 more hours. When he roused you awake for the second time this morning, you smiled and sat up. You were feeling refreshed and relaxed.

You stretched and dangled your feet over the edge of the bed, smiling back at him. “Ready to finish that to-do list?” he asked rhetorically, cheering you on. How out of character for Alastor to actually be supportive and encouraging. He snapped his fingers and your favorite breakfast appeared on a tray next to you.

You weren’t sure if Alastor was giving you this special treatment in order to manipulate you, or if he had ulterior motives. All you knew was you were really enjoying the attention, and didn’t care if he didn’t actually mean it.

He set out your clothes and shoes for the day as you ate the personalized breakfast he had made according to your taste. “You.. really don’t have to do all of this for me.” You said, slightly flustered as he knew the exact outfit you wanted to wear today. “I know. I only aim to make your life easier, dear. It’s my own personal responsibility to care for you.” He said. Slightly concerning, but oddly sweet?

#alastor x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #radio demon #alastor radio demon

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diejager · 1 year ago

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New Beginings

Pairing: dark!Krueger & König x doll!reader

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, possessive behaviour, smut, rough sex, manhandling, overstimulation, mean!Krueger, creampie, cunnilingus, fingering, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.3k

Your new body was… odd. Once, you didn’t need substinence, you could live without eating, or drinking, or breathing, but you now needed food, water, sleep and air to continue on. You didn’t understand how humans could live with such restraint, a body so easily broken and weak when all you did was sit and collect dust until you were cleaned by your caretaker. It was difficult to live this way, it was such a stark difference to your usual life. You were a fragile thing, spending most of your days limp and tiredly laying on your nest of blanket and softness in the golden cage Kruegerbought you.

Krueger was a distant relative of your father, he might’ve shared your father’s blood and pride, but he was nothing, if not vastly different from him. Sebastian Krueger was a crude and brash man, voice low and arrogant while he manhandled you with cruel and careless hands, pushing and pulling you around his broad figure. Unlike your thin and artistic father, Krueger was a firm and strong man, skin scarred from past battles, some won and some lost, but it added to his terrifying image as much as his veil did.

After your rebirth, he moved you to an elegant, golden cage where you would live the rest of your life, completely at his mercy. He knew you would depend on him for nourishment, for relief and for company, locked away in the shadow of his bedroom to stare and admire like someone would do to a dove —you were his dove, an angel who’s wings he clipped to keep. He kept to a strict routine, he woke you up with a rough shake, his calloused fingers sinking into your softer skin to pull you out, whether or not you were used to using and feeling your legs didn’t matter, whatever he said goes.

He fed you three times a day with snacks spread across the day, stuffing you round with food despite your complaints about not being hungry anymore, unused to having an body that necessitated food to work. Then he’d sit you on his lap as he worked, his hand sliding down your waist to grip your hip, sometimes staying put while he signed papers, and others straying to your thighs, kneading your oversensitive fat until you squirm and whine.

He mostly kept his hands to himself when he was busy working, his mind cued sharply into finishing his work for the day to lounge and relax, but he liked - insisted on - touching you whenever he could, rucking up the edge of your dress and cupping the uncomfortable heat of your mound, curling his fingers through your slit and thumb your throbbing clit. He seemed to enjoy your high mewls and writhing, back arched forward and grinding your ass into a hard and painful bulge in his pants.

Often times, you’d end up splayed over his desk, your clothes ripped in half from the top and left hanging under you while he rammed into you, his low grunts and cruel degrading left you in a wet and cock dumb mess of whining and crying. The red and swollen head of his cock battering your cervix, wringing orgasm after orgasm from you until he had his fill, the tip spurting hot and heavy ropes of thick cum. When he was done, he sat you on his half-hard cock, the girth still wide enough to plug you without reaching for one, your tear-strained eyes blinking tiredly and head resting against his neck.

That was usually what he did: breakfast, work, fucking you, dinner, fucking you, relaxing, supper, relaxing and fucking you to sleep, rarely diverting from it if he could. Krueger was a creature of routines, familiarity and strict form, thriving off his military training to teach you how to walk and talk, building a rigid structure to teach you. He could be cruel with his words, rough with his hands and perverted with his eyes, but he was… loving in a sense, despite how mean he was, he cared for you and provided for you in your uselessness.

But unlike Krueger, who was heartlessly taunting to you, his roommate - König - was gentle and careful with you, playing with you as if you were still the porcelain doll you used to be. König was the giant of the two, a tall and broad man who stood twice as tall and twice as big as you, a seemingly monster in his rights. His wide palms petting your mop of hair, thick fingers carding through the bothersome knots and dressing you up for the day. He was a second factor of your routine, if you weren’t with Krueger, you were with him.

He wasn’t cruel like Krueger, dauntingly stern, yes, but he never degraded you and laughed when you teared up. He was surprisingly tender with you, handling you with a softness that reminded you of your late father, mumbling quietly to you and showering you in affection. König praised you and loved you in his own way, a sickening and possessive obsession, mumbling promises that he would protect you from all the world’s cruelty, but what about his roommate’s ruthlessness? He told you not to worry your pretty, little head about him, Krueger couldn’t be fixed, it was the effect of whatever he lived through in battle.

König might’ve been your favourite between the two for how he isn’t purposefully mean, he didn’t degrade you, he didn’t growl and hiss at you, and he didn’t break his word. But he was still your captor, a man with as much - if not more - needs and wants as Krueger, with how often he pawed at your shorts, pushing them down your thighs to rut his cock between the sweep of your ass, carving a space between your clefs. If he was feeling particularly merciful, he’d stretch you enough, a thick and long finger filling your tight cunt before another pushed in, drowning your pained mewls and pants with his scarred lips. He always made you come once or twice, stuffing three fingers in an effort to fit his monstrous size, his girth and length too much for you. Much to your dismay, he made it fit, it was hot and steely, ploughing through you like you were made to take it, your slick and his abundance of pre making his thrusts smooth and easy.

If he was feeling sadistic, he would spend hours preparing you, holding you against his chest by a firm grip on your throat, your ankles hooked under him as he took his time fingering you. He praised you, his deeper growl wonderfully soft while he pampered you with his unending insistence of wetting his sheets with your musk, for the smell of your cum and sweat to stick to his room. He held you down to thrust his fingers, the palm of his hand rubbing your swollen nub, landing sharp slaps on your wet thighs until you’re sobbing out in overstimulation, writhing and fighting him with every claw and hit.

Only when you stared blankly ahead, drool rolling down your chin and limbs spasming, does he finally fuck you, bottoming out in a quick snap of his hips and pounding you into his bed. He moved you to his whims, sometimes face down and ass up, other times folded in, your legs swung over his shoulders and back curved almost uncomfortably. You’re lucky you were made flexible, seemingly outworldly with how easily König and Krueger bent you over every surface of the house and folded you in half to watch their cocks break you in and your cunt gape, oozing their thick and bitter cum.

You hoped you’d get used to the workings of your body soon, your shaking limbs and painful cramps hindering you in your attempts to flee, to spread your wings and escape your golden cage.

“We just wants what’s best for you, Rehkitz.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @rae-pottah @cassiecasluciluce

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pearynice · 2 years ago

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Daily Prompt: Preparing a Meal Together

Eddie’s never been good with the morning after. The closeness and nakedness in the harsh light of day always felt far more intimate than whatever activities he got up to the night before.

With the excuse of an orgasm no longer his security blanket, Eddie has to either kick the person out, or ask them to stay.

And Eddie’s never done the latter.

Today, though, he’s- he’s trying. Because he likes Steve. Too much. It’s already scaring him. Already feels his hackles rising and his brain hitting the panic button to run because his dear old folks gave him abandonment issues a mile wide and if he lets this go on any longer Steve leaving would ruin him and-

He closes his eyes. He’s not going to sabotage this. He refuses. This is- it’s too good.

Also, Chrissy would kill him.

He pours out what’s left of the batter and grabs a handful of blueberries, making two eyes and an extremely wonky smile in the awkwardly large final pancake.

The blueberries stare back at him. The juices begin releasing, making the eyes look like they’re weeping blue tinted tears.

He breathes in. And out.

The floor creaks, and warm arms wrap around his middle.

“Oh no,” Steve mumbles, “he’s sad.” His voice is still rough with sleep, and the scruff of his cheeks rub uncomfortably against Eddie’s neck.

He smiles into Steve’s hold. “It’s ‘cause he knows we’re gonna eat him. His days are numbered.”

Steve snorts, chest vibrating with short-lived laughter. “I hope he’s consoled by the fact that we’ll make it quick.”

Eddie flips the pancake.

“I’ll set the table,” Steve says, and kisses him on the cheek.

Eddie has to direct him to where the plates are, and where he keeps his silverware, and points to his stove-top espresso maker when he asks for coffee.

The bacon has nearly finished by the time Steve’s arms wrap around him again.

“How else can I help?”

Eddie uses the dirty tongs to point at the bar stools at his island. “Sit there and look pretty, sweetheart. ‘M almost done.”

Steve hovers for another moment, arms tight around him, and then releases.

“Fine,” he murmurs, crossing Eddie’s kitchen and seating himself on one of the bar stools. He has his glasses on, and there are pink lines across his face where the fabric of the pillowcase had pressed into his tan skin. His hair is limp, falling around his face in gentle, loose waves. His face scrunches adorably as he continues, “but next breakfast is on me.”

Slowly, Eddie breathes. Next time.

He smiles back at Steve. Next time.

#steddie #stwgdailyprompt #drabble #fluff #steddie ficlet #leigh writes #leigh writes drabbles

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gunwoo-bh · 23 days ago

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you like because, you love despite part three [and just like that] - myg

and just like that

chef!yoongi x korean!f!doctor!reader | mdni 18+

summary »» Your friendship always made sense to you and those around you. It wasn’t difficult when both your parents grew up together as best friends too. Your moms always used to refer to your friendship as being written in the stars, whereas your dads believed it impossible for you two, being girl and boy, to be best friends. Your mothers constantly remind them how wrong they’ve been to believe that. Or were they?

cw »» fluff, some light physical affection, some angst, ex-boyfriend angst, overthinking queen is at it again, swearing, gaslighting (?) in the form of an ex, angry and protective yoongi, revelations, dual pov

wc »» 5k

author’s note »» Well, well, well. We're already at part three and things are moving along pretty well! Thank you to everyone giving this story some love, I am SO grateful to every comment, like and reblog! I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!

The light shines softly through the cracks in the curtains, casting a gentle glow directly on Yoongi’s face, rousing him from his sleep. He blinks away drowsiness as he tries to stretch his body, slowly becoming aware of the heaviness and warmth residing on his right side. His heart pounds in his chest as he stares at the ceiling, willing himself not to freak out internally. Finally, he looks down to see the top of your head resting against his chest, your body snuggled tightly into his side, with your arm wrapped securely around his middle.

He can’t remember the last time you two shared a bed, but he knew you had been young enough that no one would have batted an eye at it then. This is entirely different, though. Anyone who walked in would definitely make assumptions, and that even includes you, as fear slowly creeps up his body while he takes one more look at you.

Pushing himself sideways out of bed, he hopes the grip you have on him isn’t too strong so that he might have to wake you. Luckily, your body remains limp as he slips out, gently holding the back of your head as he places you on the pillow. Yoongi rubs his chest, hoping to remove the nerves that have crept up as he looks down at you. He tugs the duvet up your body as he steps back lightly, grabs his phone, and leaves the bedroom.

He shuts the door behind him, careful not to make too much noise before walking to the kitchen as he roots around for some ingredients to make breakfast. Midway through chopping his ingredients he gets a text, recognizing the ringtone as being yours as he looks down the hall in confusion.

Doc 🩺[9:40 AM]: Here is your scheduled reminder to wake up otherwise your customers won’t be able to get food.

Doc 🩺[9:40 AM]: I am part of said customer population 😅

Yoongi snorts as he looks down the hall where you’re most likely still sleeping. When you had time to plan this text baffles him because he’s pretty sure you collapsed in bed right away. He licks his lips, losing his focus as he continues prepping breakfast.

He’s just turning the stove off when he hears you come out of his bedroom, dragging your feet all the way as you enter the kitchen. You look adorable rubbing the tiredness out of your eyes, hiding a yawn behind your arms as if bracing for impact. He stands there for a moment, watching you naturally make your way to the stool across from him at the kitchen island as you sit there.

“Morning…”

“Morning.” He watches you grumble. “Not enough sleep?”

“There can never be enough sleep…”

“Why didn’t you sleep in then?”

You finally look at him, “I could smell food…I got hungry…”

Yoongi can’t resist your pouting, “Well, I got some steamed eggs and kimchi fried rice…”

“Fuck, I don’t know what I did in another life to deserve you as a friend but thank god…” you grab your utensils as you cutely wiggle in your chair, waiting for him to hand over a plate as you bite your lip.

Yoongi lets himself be distracted by that action, his heart feeling mighty loud in his chest right now as he chastises his shaking hand when he hands you the plate. He’s only grateful since you don’t seem to notice, your attention entirely on the food. He wipes his hands as he glances at the clock, sighing.

“What?” You ask, mouth full.

“I have to go downstairs, I’m trying a new special and I did not prep for it last night so…” he takes his apron, looking at your suddenly sullen expression. “Don’t mind the mess, okay? Stay as long as you want. I’ll be downstairs…prepping…”

Yoongi quickly wanders around, rushing to his bedroom to get changed as he stares at the crumpled sheets of his bed. The imagery tugs at his heart strings as he sighs, staring for far too long before slipping his shirt off for his work one. He’s quick to grab his wallet, keys and phone before heading out, passing by you as you wish him a good day but not before Yoongi gently grabs the back of your neck to make you look at him.

You both still in the moment, Yoongi losing all confidence he had just a second ago before giving you a gentle squeeze, “Try to get more sleep…”

Your lips are beautifully parted, the lightest and shakiest of breath leaving them as you nod, “Okay, I will…”

He lets his hand drag down your back, feeling you shiver as he heads out and he locks the door behind him. He releases the breath he’s been holding as he leans against it, cussing himself for doing that. It becomes harder and harder to spend time with you without letting his feelings bubble up to the surface, especially now that you’re single. He hates himself for thinking it’s easier when you’re in a relationship because he does see you less, it hurts less.

He pushes himself off the door and heads down the stairs, choosing work as a distraction from his overwhelming feelings for you.

Talk about being fucked.

Anything else that may have invaded your thoughts that morning went away with the heavy weight of his hand against the back of your neck, his fingers having wrapped firmly around it and brought your attention to him in a way that had made more than just your heart flutter. You now felt warm all over, panting softly sitting at his kitchen island. You don’t know how long you spend staring at your food but when you finally look up he’s been gone for a solid twenty minutes, your food having gone cold as you sigh.

“Shit…”

Putting away the food and setting aside what you’ve barely touched, you decide to clean the kitchen. Rolling up the sleeves of your hoodie, you get to work and manage to get the kitchen under control in under thirty minutes. You slip off the hoodie, tossing it on the stool as you look around the living room. It isn’t long before you’ve vacuumed and mopped the floors, dusted every surface, and cleaned every room in his apartment.

Entering his bedroom to continue your cleaning spree, you glance at the still messy bed and gulp. You make the bed, tidying up the clutter on each of the bedside tables. As you do this, you realize just how many of your things are here in his room, wincing as you gather your hand lotion, charger, and other beauty products to bring them to the guest room. Each time you find a piece of clothing or an earring you’ve left behind, you sigh louder than before and shuffle to the guest room to deposit them there.

“I need to…bring this shit back, Jesus…” You rub the back of your neck, standing there awkwardly as you put away your items for now. “Next time. Next time for sure.”

You let your mind wander, thinking of how he explained your things away whenever he brought a girl home. You knew he was popular with the ladies, catching their attention any time you were out with him and your friends. He was never crude about it, though. He never let it slip whether or not he met up with a girl who had given him his number. The only reason you knew? Was the box of condom you had accidentally found while looking for ointment, the box falling and revealing a low amount which obviously meant he put them to use.

That was always the one subject you both agreed to never speak about together: your sex lives. Always off limits.

By the time it’s 1 p.m. you are back in your original spot, at the kitchen island eating what you had forgotten to that morning. All this cleaning had tired you out, now realizing you should have listened to Yoongi when he had told you to get more sleep. Glancing over your shoulder at the couch, you clean your mess up and grab a blanket, settling on the couch for a nap.

You wake up quite some time later in the afternoon, your eyes adjusting slowly to the darkness of the apartment. Groggily, you sit up with a yawn and a shake of your head. You pat yourself, brows furrowed, and look for your phone, finding it when you swing your legs over the edge, your foot touching the fallen device as you reach down to grab it.

Right away you see a text from your mom, Harin and Yoongi – the usual culprits. But the last text notification catches your attention, making your stomach churn. Daehyun. Opening the text, you read it over once and then twice.

Daehyun ❌[3:29 PM]: Hey. It’s been a while but I’d really like to pick my stuff up tonight. I’m going away for a few days and I’d rather not delay it any longer since it seems you haven’t changed your mind.

Shit. It’s already been almost two hours since he sent the message, forcing you to stand up and rushing to the bedroom where you find your clothes. You get changed so far, tossing your sleepwear on the bed of the guest room. You shoot Yoongi a quick text as you lock up behind you.

You [5:18 PM]: I had to leave really quickly, I left a tiny mess in the guest room. All is good, I just napped way too long 😅I swear I’ll come pick my stuff up next time. Hope work is going well! ☺️

And to your ex, you send a quick text.

You [5:20 PM]: Meet me outside my place at 6.

And before being able to slip the phone in your pocket, you receive a message back from Yoongi.

Yoong ~ 🍊 [5:21 PM]: Grab the car keys. Don’t pay for a cab.

Yoong ~ 🍊 [5:21 PM]: Please?

You snort loudly, heading back in quickly to look for the car keys and lock up once again. When you’re sitting in his car, it takes a moment for you to remember you were the last one to sit in this car. Driving back home, you can only think of what you’re going to say to Daehyun when you give him his things back. Your last phone call sometimes replays in your mind, immediately making you nervous about what may come.

Pulling up to your place, you know he’s about to arrive soon enough, and knowing him, he’ll be here earlier than your agreed time. Rushing upstairs, you make a beeline to your room, grab the box of his things, and give it one final look. Every single item of his is in there and accounted for, your eyes scanning the items he had left at yours. Two of his hoodies, a few of his books, some plushies, and bracelets he had gotten for you—those were good memories you two once had. But in hindsight, there wasn’t much either.

When you walk down to sit on the stairs to wait for him, you shift nervously as you glance down your street. Yoongi’s car is parked in front of your building, the box sitting on top of the trunk as you wring your hands. God, you just want this over with.

And your wish is granted when you see Daehyun walking up your street as you shoot up, arms crossed over your chest as you shift awkwardly from one foot to the other. Daehyun’s hands are in his pockets as he walks up, glancing over your shoulder and shaking his head.

“Hey…”

“You did that quick…” He notes.

“What?”

“Packed my shit.” He chides, the tone not escaping you.

“Well, I did have the time.”

Daehyun smacks his lips, “We just broke up.”

You frown, “Almost a month ago now, though…”

He sighs loudly, your words obviously irritating him, “God, you’re so detached…and cold…”

You wince, the words stinging, “I’m not.”

He scoffs, “You can be.”

You stay quiet, the impact of his words still washing over you as you sniffle. Don’t let him make you cry. Clearing your throat you point to the box, “Well, you can take it. Make sure I didn’t forget a thing…”

You feel his eyes on you as you stare at the ground, Daehyun moving to walk past you but he stops next to you instead. As you look at him you see him staring at your building, biting his lower lip harshly.

And so, you ask, “What?”

“Is this why you met me out here?” When you look even more confused he points to the car. “Is he upstairs? Keeping an eye on you to make sure you’re okay?”

When you realize what, or who, he’s referring to, you roll your eyes, “Oh my god! This again?”

“What do you mean ‘this again’?! Yeah! Of course!!” He yells, this being the first time he’s ever done this, making you jump. “I asked you for one thing!”

“Asked?” You square up to him. “You didn’t ask! You told me that’s what I’d be doing to stay with you instead of dealing with your feelings about it or talking to me about it! And I’m not some dog, Daehyun! I was your girlfriend!”

He sighs loudly, his face red in anger, “Fuck, seriously? You never were. I had to fight for your attention. I had to fight him for it and that wasn’t fair…”

Mouthing the air, guilt creeps up in your chest, “A-and that’s probably my fault because we are attached at the hip pretty much, but I swear to you we’ve only been friends…”

Why does this feel like a lie now?

“Bullshit…” he spats, sounding the most angry you’ve ever heard him. “The guy’s been in love with you for as long as I’ve known you, maybe even longer…”

You look down at your feet, “Stop. He’s not.”

“Uh, yeah, he absolutely fucking is!” He bickers. “There wasn’t a moment where I didn’t feel his presence while we dated but fuck, I liked you enough to think that maybe I was paranoid. That maybe…maybe I was just seeing things.”

“I don’t wanna tell you that you weren’t…because obviously my friendship with him bothered you.” You rub the back of your neck.

“You being friends with a guy never bothered me. You have guy friends all around, but him? It’s him. He never saw you as a friend and you’re too fucking blind to see it, and to make it worse? Everyone kept telling me to watch out.”

“You accused me of cheating and I never did.” Why are you defending yourself? “I wanted to be a good girlfriend and for a while I thought I was…but I realize that maybe I didn’t set boundaries between my friendship and relationship…but I also won’t be ordered around by anyone. Much less you.”

He snarls, shaking his head in disbelief, “Continue being in denial. Continue having this issue over and over. Continue being alone.” He stomps over to the box, grabs it roughly and walks past you, leaving you standing there.

His words hurt as you watch his retreating form, biting on your lower lip hard enough you start tasting metal and you hiss, using the back of your hand to dab your lip and you see blood on the back of it. You tuck your lower lip in your mouth, sucking on the blood as you shake your head.

Your relationship with Daehyun was always good, you think. Until a few weeks ago, he had been a good boyfriend, but you had noticed your lack of interest in anything further. That, you knew, was your fault. You should have ended it the moment you realized you never saw a future with him. Your naive hope that your feelings would suddenly develop for him later was futile. It ended up causing more hurt. And anger.

You had never wanted to hurt him, and it was never your intention, but you hadn’t expected such anger and cruelty in his words. It stung you in a way you didn’t think you could ever forget.

Instead of going back home and apologizing to Yoongi for making him come get his car, you get in the vehicle and drive back to his home instead. You dread the thought of being alone, and you know the longer you try to avoid him, the more likely he is to worry and check in on you. You park his car in its spot, shut it off, and sit in silence for a moment. Your lower lip begins to tremble, tears welling and threatening to fall as you bury your face in your hands and sob. The delayed reaction catches you off guard, taking your breath in the middle of what feels like a panic attack. Rubbing your chest, you shut your eyes and attempt to breathe calmly in the hopes of alleviating the sobbing.

Sniffling and wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand, you grab your things and finally head upstairs to Yoongi’s. It isn’t very long before you get changed back into your clothes from the night before, still sniffling as you walk around his apartment and wandering over to the fridge. You’ve never felt the need to ask him for permission, but with your insecurities at an all time high, you do anyway.

You [7:03 PM]: Can I steal your food?

You stand there, knowing he will respond at any moment and right as it crosses your mind, the texting bubbles appear.

Yoong ~ 🍊[7:05 PM]: When have you ever needed to ask?

Yoong ~ 🍊[7:06 PM]: Please, steal.

His response provides relief, grabbing a bowl of stew and reheating that, settling on his couch as you watch reruns of some variety show to keep your eyes, and mind, busy. Aside from that last text, you don’t look at your phone as you mindlessly stare at the screen. You do make some time to clean up after yourself but you fall asleep on the couch, the TV still running in the background.

You startle awake, confused when you wake up in a bedroom, his bedroom, and not on the couch. Your eyes adjust to the darker setting, only the bedside table light turned on when Yoongi exits his bedroom ensuite and makes eye contact with you, looking caught.

“Shit, hi. Did I wake you?”

“What time is it?” Gently sitting up, you watch how he awkwardly stands there.

“Uh, just past eleven…”

“Oh…I slept for that long?”

Yoongi licks his lips, eyes finally taking in your awakened form as he approaches the bed. He sits at the end, his change of clothes in lap as he stares at you.

“Yeah, you did. You must have been tired.” Yoongi chews his lower lip. “How was your day?”

“It was slow…” you blink away the tears already threatening to fall, rubbing them away under the guise of tiredness. “How was work?”

“Busy. Really busy…” he shifts, turning to face you, “what’s up?”

Screw you, Yoongi. For knowing right away. The sigh that leaves you is all he needs to know he hit it right on the nose. But all you can do is stare at your lap, sniffling softly and he shifts closer as he clears his throat. When you stare up at him, you see the shift in his posture and his face. He looks absolutely peeved without having even heard the story.

“I went to give Daehyun his things back…” you wipe your eyes and you feel him tense up even when he's that far away from you.

“What did he do?” He licks his lips but his jaw clenches.

You shake your head, “He vented his frustrations and–and I mean, he's not wrong but he was hurtful. It just sucked, y'know? I know I would never be the perfect girlfriend. I'm fucking human, yeah? But I didn't realize I had been that bad, I guess…”

Yoongi shakes his head, scooting closer and touching your knee, “What did he say?”

His tone is controlled, slow and steady, which are the very indicators that he is keeping his cool but he is furious, “Well,” you start, “he said I was cold and detached,” you see his nostrils flaring, “and then went in on the fact that he thought you were upstairs and that's why I met him outside. He saw your car and just started telling me that you were the issue. That you always being there was the issue…”

You look up to watch him and you rub the back of your neck when you see how upset he is, “And he kept going with how people around him had warned him about you and then for good measure he accused you of being in love with me and how fucking obvious it was…”

“He didn't like fighting for my attention with you because he knew you'd always win,” one tear slips and you know more are coming, “and I told him I was sorry, but there's never been anything between you and I, and that maybe it was odd for people because we are attached at the hip basically…and I never meant to make him feel that way…”

You pause, quickly glancing at him then back at your lap, “So, that was it. Told me to continue being in denial and to continue being alone…”

You wipe away tears again, frustrated that he's getting tears out of you again as you huff a sad laugh. You avoid looking at Yoongi, afraid of what you’ll see and you also know exactly what he’ll say because he has always been right but you still chance a glance at him. He inhales deeply and finally meets your eyes.

His hand on your knee moves and he takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently, “Are you okay?”

Startled by the question, you mouth the air and you start crying, wiping at your face as you shake your head, “I am physically fine. I’m hurt. That hurt. We’ve both had this issue pop up with people we’ve dated before so, maybe we don’t have boundaries?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t think that’s what that is.”

“Remember Minji? Didn’t you two fight because she didn’t like that your best friend was a girl?”

“Yes, she tried to make me choose her over you. To pick her, someone I’d known for six months and dated for four, over my best friend of over twenty years. That’s insanity…” He’s breathing heavily, looking at you. “We have never crossed boundaries when we’ve had partners…”

“But I must have done–”

“Hey!” You startle when he grabs your shoulders. “We always prioritize getting to know the people we’ve dated. We pull away a little because we are dating people but it always goes to shit when we’ve met each other’s partners. Why? Because they find out the best friend is a person of the opposite sex. They can’t ever get over that. No matter what we do…”

He isn’t wrong about that one. It’s the same cycle that repeats itself over and over, always ending up with a break up. Yoongi’s last relationship was over two years ago, late night company aside, and he hadn’t revisited the dating world since then.

“No amount of doing things the right way ever made Daehyun, Minji, Jongwoo, Ara or any exes we’ve ever had, comfortable…” He sighs. “I tried. You tried. We made some mistakes along the way and they can be mad. They’re allowed to be. But being cruel? Fuck that. I know it would have made it worse…but I wish I had been there.”

“You would have ripped him a new one…”

He grabs your face, catching you off guard as he stares at you, “I would have done so much worse,” he gulps, “just for making you cry…”

He suddenly lets go of you, hands grabbing yours as you stare at him still but he’s looking away. He’s entirely too focused on everything but your face. You sniffle, squeezing his hand as you nod, “I know…”

Yoongi clears his throat, standing up as he rubs the back of his neck, “I need sleep and you must need it too…I’m gonna go get changed and go to bed. What time do you work tomorrow?”

“Uh,” you check your schedule on your phone, “at eight.”

“I’ll drive you…” he smiles and nods, “goodnight and don’t worry about it, okay?”

Right as he’s about to close the door you call for him, his head poking in, “Don’t you want your bed?” He thinks on it for a moment, smiling softly.

“You stay…”

He takes one final look at you as he shuts the door behind him. You stare after him for a good long moment, blinking away whatever was left of your tears as you snuggle back into the sheets. You can hear him walking around and then, the entire apartment goes quiet. And you know right then and there he’s off to bed.

Even though crying usually puts you to sleep, you can’t stop your brain from replaying your entire day over and over. It’s been a heck of a day and in all that chaos, of all the things you could focus on? Focusing on one specific moment during this day is what allows you to finally exhale, relax and let go.

And just like that, you fall asleep.

Earlier that morning

Your entire body feels warm as you shift sleepily, the dream you were having making you smile before you realize that feeling is now being replaced by your need to pee. God damn your idea of drinking water before heading to bed. You try to drag yourself out of bed, but you feel a tightness around your abdomen. Glancing down, you freeze, now completely awake and all fatigue gone.

The warmth around your abdomen and against your back belongs to none other than Yoongi, who, at some point after returning, must have finally made it to bed after you. This also makes you realize that, in your tired haze earlier, you hadn’t settled in the guest room like you thought, but in his bedroom again. Even more startling is the realization that he not only got into bed with you but that his body is now wrapped tightly and warmly around you. His face is buried in the back of your neck, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. What are you supposed to do?

You wince as you make your first move out of bed, dragging one leg over the edge and gently pulling yourself up. Surprisingly, his grip loosens, and as you slip out of bed, you cautiously glance over your shoulder to see him sleeping on his back. With a sigh of relief, you hurry to the bathroom, and while washing your hands, you look at your reflection and smile to yourself. You’re not sure what to make of it, but it must have been an accident. There’s no way this could have happened on purpose, right? No. The last time the two of you shared a bed was when you were kids, and that was okay then. Right?

As you enter the bedroom again, the morning sun peeking through his curtains shines a path for you to make your way back to bed. But then a thought strikes you. Should you go back to bed with him? You’re aware now, and maybe the easiest thing would be to step away and go to the guest room, as was your initial goal.

Yet, as you crawl back under the covers, you find yourself seeking the comfort of his warmth one more time. And as if he knows—whether he's truly asleep or faking, you don't even care—he wraps his arms around you as you snuggle into his side, burying your face in his chest while looping an arm around his middle.

You glance up at him; Yoongi's breathing is even and unbothered as he sleeps soundly. You feel the arm he wrapped around you slip to settle snugly around your waist, pulling you closer than you already were as you gasp lightly. He makes the smallest noise from the back of his throat as he settles again, his cheek resting against the top of your head. You bring your hand up to his chest, placing it firmly down against it and using the tip of your nail to trace patterns across it.

And just like that, realization crashes over you like waves crashing against rocks, and your heart begins to race, thumping loudly against your ribcage. You are overtaken by emotions that you must swallow down thickly, your throat feeling as dry as the Sahara Desert. Whether this has been a long time coming or not, whether it has always been there or has just appeared recently, it matters very little.

What truly matters is that the fabric of your friendship with Yoongi has changed before your eyes over the years, culminating in this moment. Your thirty-year-old self carries the heart of your fifteen-year-old self—it has never left. It was easy to deny what has always been beneath the surface, what you've been sweeping under the carpet or burying in the yard of your mind palace all along. In reality, things were always different.

What mattered now was that as you were wrapped in Yoongi's embrace, snuggled into his warmth, feeling the steadiness of his heart beating against your hand, you knew now more than ever that you couldn't deny it any longer.

That to no or little avail, denying just no longer worked.

You were falling for your best friend, or more like, you had been falling for him for a long time and it had finally caught up.

And that’s why when you drift off to sleep, accepting what has probably always been, you have a gentle smile gracing your lips even amidst the fear of what’s to come.

Because you know, no matter what?

Yoongi and you are going to be just fine.

Always.

author’s note »» Well! Not only do we confirm for real that Yoongi has feelings for Reader, but we also get Reader realizing that her teenage crush has bloomed in secret! Here commences the pining everyone! I hope you enjoyed! :D

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