#crack. Dreams can't give you trauma!

[nightmaresgiven]

Tag Dump 2

[connorsui]

A Love Long Denied

Astarion x reader

synopsis: Astarion finally drops his guarded facade, allowing you to see the depths of his affection and vulnerability as he admits that, for the first time in centuries, you’ve given him not just freedom—but a reason to truly live.

Genre/warnings: mentions of past trauma and abuse (astarions enslavement), themes of healing and redemption, mild angst, Fluff intertwined with emotional themes, he deserves all forms of love …

Note: I ain't gonna lie astarion gives me the type of man who would gladly talk with you over sum cup of tea and gossip ..like yes darling tell me about the foul co worker Samantha that you hate – I can't... I apologize

w.c: 1.5K

The night was painted in silver, the moon hanging like a sentinel above, its soft glow spilling over the landscape in a delicate embrace. The world around you seemed to fall away, fading into shadows as Astarion stood beside you, his pale skin luminous beneath the moon’s tender gaze. His eyes—deep and glowing like garnets, rich with secrets—held yours with a gaze that made everything else disappear. Time itself unraveled when he looked at you this way, his usual mischief melting into something unguarded, something fragile. It wasn’t in words where the truth lived, but in the silence between your breaths—a confession that passed unspoken, a feeling he barely dared to understand.

Love, he often mused, was as dangerous as it was intoxicating.

A force that threatened to undo him entirely, to strip away the careful façade of wit and charm that had shielded him for centuries. But you—you had seen past the veneer. Seen the man behind the mask, the one buried beneath layers of pain and self-preservation. It was terrifying to be so exposed, to be so thoroughly known. And yet, what terrified him more was how deeply he now craved it—craved you.

The rogue would never admit it—not in a thousand lifetimes—but the moment your touch met his, a thrill so sharp, so visceral, rushed through him that he swore, for an instant, his heart beat again.

A beat meant only for you.

“You’re staring again, Astarion ” you teased, your voice a soft murmur as you turned to catch his gaze.

Astarion’s smirk flickered into place, quick as lightning—effortless, practiced—but beneath it, something flickered. A brief hesitation, like a shadow darting through the light. He leaned against a nearby tree, arms folding across his chest with the lazy grace of someone who seemed to command the world around him, yet cared for none of it.

“Am I?” he purred, his tone velvet-soft. “Can you blame me? After all, I’m simply admiring a rare and priceless beauty. It would be a crime to do otherwise.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, you know,” you replied, arching an eyebrow playfully as a smile danced on your lips. “But I suppose it’s nice to be appreciated. Just don’t forget that I’m not as easily swayed as your usual admirers.”

Astarion chuckled, a low and smooth sound that sent a thrill down your spine. “Oh, darling, I would never dream of underestimating you. In fact, that’s what makes you all the more intriguing.”

You rolled your eyes at his familiar theatrics, but there was no denying the warmth blooming in your chest. It was a feeling that had grown with each passing day—a gentle flutter that accompanied moments like this, when his affection, though cloaked in jest, revealed itself in the spaces between words. Behind the veil of his playful flirtations, there was something else—a quiet truth that surfaced in glimpses, like sunlight breaking through the cracks of a long-forgotten temple.

Astarion had lived behind pretense for so long—surviving on wit, charm, and carefully crafted words that kept others at bay. But for you—for the one who had broken through the walls he had spent centuries building—he found himself wanting to be known. Not as a game, not as a means to an end, but as the man beneath it all. Flawed, fragile, and desperately human.

Sometimes, in the darkest hours of the night, when the world was still and you lay beside him, he would watch the rise and fall of your chest, your breath steady and comforting. Those were the moments when Astarion allowed himself to feel it fully—allowed the emotion to flood him without shame. He marveled at how the warmth of your body bled into his, even when he himself no longer held such warmth. He was cold, yes, but you

... you were a flame.

A flame so heavily enticing that made him feel as if the meaning of being alive was far greater than the touch of the sun.

And yet that thought both thrilled and terrified him. For years beyond counting, Astarion had been shackled—body, mind, soul. He had been a creature of darkness, bent to the will of others, his own autonomy a distant memory. Then you had come along, a spark of light in the gloom, and he had tasted freedom for the first time in centuries. It was because of you he now walked free. And what a strange thing freedom was. How it made him yearn for more than just survival. It made him yearn for you.

One evening, beneath the stars, the two of you found yourselves alone, away from the others. The air was cool and crisp, and a gentle wind stirred the trees. Astarion, true to form, was weaving one of his fantastical tales—a story spun from equal parts truth and exaggeration, designed to amuse and distract. But tonight, there was a seriousness to him, something unspoken but weighty between the lines of his words.

You listened, smiling at his antics, but you knew him well enough by now to see the shifts in his manner. The way his eyes darted to yours, lingering just a second too long, the way his voice, though playful, held a tremor. And then, he fell silent. The kind of silence that stretched and expanded, until it filled the space between you with unspoken things.

Finally, you spoke softly, breaking the stillness. “You have been silent for so long…I know that mind of yours must have something to say? —”

He hesitated. A moment of vulnerability flickered across his face before the mask fell away, if only for a second. His eyes—once so sharp and predatory—softened as he gazed at you.

“Astarion? –”

“ — My apologies, my love, but you’ve given me something I never thought I would have again,” he murmured, his voice low, almost hesitant. “A feeling such as freedom...”

The word hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. For so long, Astarion had been defined by his chains, by the weight of a past that refused to let him go. But with you, he had tasted something new. Something precious.

“But I suppose it's more than that,” he continued, stepping closer, his hand reaching out, though he stopped just shy of touching you. “It’s not just freedom you’ve given me. It’s… it’s life. A reason to want to keep living. To truthfully enjoy it as it is”

Your breath caught at the raw honesty in his voice, the sincerity that was so rare for him to reveal. You reached for him then, taking his hand in yours. His fingers were cool, but they tightened around yours with a desperation that belied his usual bravado.

“And I'll admit I never expected this,” Astarion admitted, his gaze locked on your entwined hands. “ — To feel that is .. about anyone, after so long.”

“Astarion...” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion as you tightened your grip on his hand. “You deserve this—you deserve to feel loved, to feel free. No matter what you’ve been through, none of that defines who you are now.”

You stepped closer, closing the final space between you, your free hand gently cupping his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut at your touch, a shuddered breath escaping him as though the weight of your words had lifted something he hadn’t realized he was still carrying.

“Let yourself have this,” you murmured, your forehead now resting against his. “Let yourself feel it—feel us. I’m not going anywhere, and neither is this.”

His eyes lifted to yours, and for a moment, there was no pretense, no mask. Just him. And in that moment, you saw the depth of his love—the love he was still learning to express, still learning to accept for himself. It was a love that scared him because it made him vulnerable. But it was also a love that he had come to crave, more than he had ever craved anything in his long, dark existence.

Over time, Astarion’s love for you grew. Not in the sudden, burning way that love often does, but in slow, steady increments—like the tide rising against the shore. It was a love that surprised him in its constancy, in its ability to endure even in the face of his own fears and insecurities.

He had learned to show it in small ways. In the way, he would linger by your side just a moment longer than necessary. In the way his hand would find yours, even in the quietest moments. In the way he would watch you, when he thought you weren’t looking, with an expression that could only be described as awe.

And though he would never say it aloud, not in a thousand years, Astarion knew, deep down, that he had never loved anyone the way he loved you. You were the first to break through the walls he had built, the first to show him that he could be more than what he had been made to be. And for that, he would be forever grateful.

[peggyao3]

Relic - Pt. 8 "Rowing in Eden"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧

A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: 18+, smut, she/her AFAB FMC, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum, Feyd-Rautha's big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, Frank Herbert would frown, some politics, implied/referenced (child) abuse ❗, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts ❗, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable!Feyd, Emotional!Feyd, Possessive!Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, implied/referenced cannibalism ❗, implied/referenced murder

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

A/N: Saw myself forced to split this chapter in half becase you won't catch me uploading a 10k chaptie 😭 Hence why the alternative title for this one is "Blue Balls" 💙🥰

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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Giedi Prime, Day 4

Quietly, she stands on the balcony of her room, forearms on the banister as a stormy breeze  ruffles her clothes. The wind brings no refreshment, it only moves the smog around. 

The city below reminds her of Neu-Seoul paired with industrial power plants as far as the eye can see and post-apocalyptic wasteland, a planet groaning and moaning for plant life and to be freed of the human plague that festers on its crust, much like Old Earth. She is quite used to toxic air, but this atmosphere is a little worse even than that of her former home.

A rumbling crack had startled her yesterday while she was trying to inconspicuously scan the Harkunnin language and grammar from the audiovisual filmbook recording that was given to her. Her personal maid, a woman named Lilia, had reassured her that that was just the volcanic activity deep within the bowels of the planet and nothing to worry about.

The engineer from Old Earth has a slightly different opinion on that, but she had thanked Lilia with a smile and rewinded the filmbook to proceed committing the data to her chip.

Looking over her shoulder now, she sees Lilia's pale, bald head moving about, filling the wardrobe with clothes that have just been delivered. The Harkonnen woman doesn't seem as malnourished as the ones she had seen on her first day.

The relic doesn't like the fact that a stranger has access to her chambers where her sarcophagus stands, folded back together so that nothing visually gives away any of the heresy inside.

A notification lights up her virtual interface. The AI tool has finished compiling the Harkunnin vocabulary and sorted it in an appealing, searchable array. Now she only needs to acquire a filmbook about Galach and scan that too, so she can start cross referencing in her virtual, little lexicon. Her eyes focus back on the room and the interface dissolves when she takes notice of Lilia's pale hand waving at her.

"Your new pants, my Lady!" The maid lifts a pile of garments, some of them even colorful. The Lady had (unknowingly) requested colors which are expensive to import, the costliest one being purple. Of course, such expenditures are to be expected for the new Lady of House Harkonnen and Lilia had spared neither trouble nor expenses to ensure her wardrobe is as she desires. Being assigned to the woman from Old Earth, a place which Lilia had assumed to be only the stuff of mysteries, is the best promotion that ever could have happened to the maid.

"I love them already. I can't go another day with my bare thighs touching under these gowns." The woman steps into the suite, pulling the balcony door and the curtains shut so the color stealing sunlight is barred out. Lilia looks at her like she doesn't quite understand the remark about her thighs, though that may be due to the fact that Harkonnens, regardless of gender, appear to be completely and entirely hairless except for their lashes.

"Can I try them on?" The relic asks, pointing at the trousers.

"Of course you can, my Lady. Like I said, you don't need to ask me for permission for anything."

"But it's good manners to ask."

Lilia likes this woman even though she asks curious questions sometimes, such as how high her salary is and if she has health insurance, followed by a lengthy explanation about what health insurance is. She likes her because she talks to her like she's a human, which is typically something that no one above her rank ever does, save for Lilia's own husband.

The new pants fit perfectly and there is no need to try them all on, but she does so anyway because it's fun and it distracts her from the painful waiting for her beloved.

"When will Feyd be here?" She finally inquires after the eighth pair of pants which she keeps on because they're comfortable.

"I'm afraid I don't know, my Lady. The na-Baron has a busy schedule."

That he does, she grimly notes. He never used to be so busy in their dreams, she had him all for herself. After 24,000 years of sleep and 2 years with the Bene Gesserit, she only just got him back. Is it wrong of her to want to spend every minute of every day with him?

Lilia suggests: "If it pleases you, I  could do your makeup before the na-Baron arrives."

"Ah, that's very kind of you, but no thank you."

Lilia seems to be the multi-purpose kind of handmaid, being a skilled seamstress and stylist who even boasts experience with hair, a rare skill set on Giedi Prime. Proudly, Lilia had proclaimed that she has a personal knack for medicine and trauma management without leaving but a scar. The relic still wonders if this is a commonly needed skill around here…

"Then I'll leave you to your own devices." Lilia hasn't failed to notice the oftentimes absent look in the Lady's eyes, as if she's not quite there. Although the maid is impossibly curious and precariously drawn to danger (a trait which she has learned to suppress), she won't urge the foreigner for stories or company. They're not friends.

The relic glances over when her handmaid slips out of the room and the open door briefly reveals the guard who is stationed in front of it. She can only hope he has been placed there to keep unwelcome visitors out, not to keep her inside. So far, she's had no desire to test it.

Neither the idea of leaving her Sarcophagus unattended nor wandering around the palace pyramid on her lonesome seem awfully inviting.

She returns to the balcony, forearms on the banister, and her expression flattens. Melancholy glazes over her eyes and she summons the interface to blank out the depressing concrete jungle that spews smog into the sky from roaring chimneys. The only improvement is that she is now wearing pants.

While she should start studying the Harkunnin language or delve into the Holtzman physics (something about it sparked vague recognition in her), she ends up loading up a serial to watch on her interface, denying herself the luxury to sit down. Because if she gets too comfortable, she fears she will forget where she is and break down as soon as she shuts off the stream.

Feyd watches her stand there, clothes ruffled by the breeze, herself unmoving in the grey light, in the toxic air. Her back is turned to him and for twenty minutes she hasn't stirred.

Carefully, he had deposited the three long-stemmed crowns of thorns on the vanity when he realized she wasn't going to turn around. They're the only native flower on Giedi prime, all thorny, dark-grey stems and white petals.

On quiet soles, he steps out on the balcony, almost breathing down her neck. All day he's been thinking of her. Every second apart is a little death and he had hoped she would fall into his arms the second he came through the door. From an angle, he studies her face, pupils dancing. She looks sad and he can't see why. For a second, he contemplates stealing the chip out of her skull when she sleeps.

But for that, they'd have to start sleeping in each other's beds first.

"What are you doing there, my darling?" A pair of toned arms encircles her from behind and she yelps, shutting down the stream and the interface.

"Feyd!" She attempts to spin around and face him, but Feyd pins her back to his chest, humming as he buries his nose in the crown of her head. She hugs his forearms against her stomach, craning her head to find his pale-blue gaze. Feyd's nose slides across her head and he kisses her forehead.

"You looked sad."

"Yes, because I've missed you." That is very much true, though she conceals the fact that rewatching her old favorite serials had nearly broken her heart. Her answer placates him for a minute and he presses the front of his body against the back of hers, squeezing her like he's seen her squeeze the stuffed animal of hers.

"How are you?" He murmurs.

"Good!" She replies a bit too quickly and inhales like a liar caught in the act.

"You don't like it," Feyd doesn't ask, he states, and  disappointment reverberates in his tone. He knew this, yet his chest hollows itself out with a blunt carving knife.

"The place is just… Different than I thought." She squeezes the forearms that hold her.

"But I'm here," he mumbles and presses his nose against her temple.

"Yes, I feel better when you're here." Finally, he allows her to turn around in his embrace and face him properly. They're so close, he can feel the expansion of her thorax with every breath. Blue eyes lovingly trail over her face.

"Did your maid not offer to do your makeup?"

Her stomach sinks and she blinks quickly. "Don't you like me without makeup anymore?"

"No! That's not what I-" Feyd scrambles for words, cupping her jaws and neck. "I just wondered if she offered. If not, we'll replace her. You're supposed to have only the best maids and servants one can-"

"Stop." She interrupts him firmly, shaking herself as if to free herself from his hands, which can't be what she means, so Feyd keeps holding her. "Lilia is wonderful, I don't want her replaced."

"Hmmph." Feyd gives his agreement and wonders if she had ever called him 'wonderful'. Slowly, he lowers his face, closes his eyes and slots his lips against hers, moving sensually as he presses their bodies flush. Her spine pushes right against the banister and her breasts against his chest. All day, he's been fantasizing about this. Today he'll finally be brave enough and take her to bed, there's nothing to be afraid of.

But he can tell she's thinking, thinking again, always thinking so much instead of giving herself to him unconditionally.

She kisses him with closed lips, like a parting gift before she speaks. "There are… Things that I feel like we should talk about."

Feyd exhales a short, hard breath against her face. "Like what?"

"I can't kiss you without thinking of, well, everything," she sighs and gestures over her shoulder. "This planet is… I don't know what I expected."

"Then let's go inside, so you don't have to see the planet." Feyd tugs on her waist and she allows him to guide her inside, walking backwards and pulling her with him. But when he attempts to kiss her, she clutches his lapels and shakes her head.

"It's not just that. It's the people. You're keeping slaves to work at your palace." 

Not only in the palace, Feyd thinks to himself. If she knew about the slave fields…

"No one is having fun, everyone looks the same and everyone seems to be scared for their lives!" She inhales harshly and Feyd's fingers trail down her waist and spine, proactively grasping at the fabric in case she wants to tear away from him.

A muscle along his jaw flexes lightly before he speaks. "Well you don't survive wars by having fun and being fair to other humans, do you?"

"No, but-" she stumbles. "That was different. We left Earth with a higher purpose, to save our species from extinction. It was logistically impossible to bring every single human to a new home."

"We also serve a higher purpose. To maintain our status and power among the Great Houses, we cannot grant every citizen the luxury of free will."

"But not like this." She clutches his lapels like she wants to strangle him, or at least someone. "This is terrible."

"Well, I live here," Feyd grates out. "I didn't choose to live here. And it just is like that." He had chosen to live here at an age at which one cannot make sensible decisions yet.

"But you could do something. You're the na-Baron, right? You could change something."

"You're right, I'm the na-Baron," he grimly states.

"Lilia said, if she gets hurt, she needs to stitch up herself and she'll be dismissed without recompensation if she finds herself unable to perform her tasks anymore." She looks at Feyd expectantly who stares over her head at the roiling cityscape out the balcony door and shrugs his shoulders. "Do you at least agree that the staff around here are treated unfairly? It is proven that employee satisfaction and work efficiency correlate strongly."

"I don't know," he grumbles and refrains from telling her that the correlation between the threat of a blade between the ribs and work efficiency can hardly be beaten. The relic takes note of how annoyed Feyd looks, like he's been talked into a corner. What he really says is 'I don't care'.

Slowly searing under her expectant stare, Feyd continues: "Sorry. But I don't want to change the world, I have bigger concerns."

"Such as the fact that I'm not kissing you?" She almost scoffs a little, remembering a moment which feels like a lifetime ago, and her heart aches in her chest, knowing exactly that's not what he meant.

"For example…" Feyd brings one hand to her face and caresses her cheek softly, fingertips moving tentatively from temple to jaw. "You didn't ask me about my day."

"Oh, Feyd, I'm so sorry." Her shoulders fall and she feels horrible for jumping him with her concerns, but who else could she talk to, who else could she trust? The grasp on his lapels becomes yearning and clingy, exactly how he likes it.

Softly, she asks: "Is everything okay?" The lingering sub question is: Did he hurt you?

"I'm okay," Feyd hums and a dreamy, little smile slips over his face.

"Are you sure?" She cups his cheeks and looks at him insistently. All of her attention is finally only his and Feyd seizes the moment, delving down to kiss her, cupping the back of her head. This time, he will not be deterred.

Further questions are muffled by Feyd's pillowy lips on hers, kissing her with such determination that her belly is flooded with heat and she whimpers quietly in his mouth when he walks her backwards. Soon the back of her knees hit the mattress and she sinks down, bones melting like jelly when Feyd-Rautha crawls over her like a big cat, his body as hard and heavy as it was the first time they made love.

"No lucid dream this time," he whispers against her wet lips and settles on her chest, relishing the feel of her softness beneath him. His fingers trail downwards with a purpose, stopping occasionally to squeeze her breasts, her waist, her tummy, all the parts that he likes. Calloused fingertips slip beneath her waistband and across her venus mound.

Oh God, to be touched like this in real life! It's been over 24,000 years. She gasps so loudly when he touches her clit that it makes Feyd smile from ear to ear. "That's right, we're finally together," he breathes against her open mouth, drawing small circles on the tender bud, though his wrist is restrained by the waistband of her trousers. "And you're every bit as sweet and wet for me as in the dream."

His eyes are closed. It's easier to talk to her like that. Feyd feels like he's 13 and having his first proper time all over again, except this time he actually wants the girl to like him.

"Feyd," she mewls, fingers curled around the back of his head, nails digging slightly into his nape.

"Hmm?" He hums against her mouth, tongue barely wanting to leave hers.

"Feels so good… Ahhh!" Feyd-Rautha's fingers have slipped further south, two of them sinking tentatively into her cunt and filling her up. With short back and forth of his digits, he makes her thighs fall open wide and her pelvis buck against his damp palm.

Shyness be damned, he needs to see her.  So he  swiftly stands up, sucks his fingers clean and pulls her pants and underwear (It's strange seeing a woman in pants) down her legs. While he's at it, he discards his shoes and suit jacket too, enjoying the range of motion his sleeveless tunic offers him.

Pale arms cage her when he climbs back on her. His woman shuffles backwards so her head lies properly on the pillow. Feyd would have ravaged her on the cold floor tiles too, but she likes it comfortable, and so does he, but only with her and only in secret.

He wants to eat her cunt until she cries his name, but her fingers have formed a manacle around the nape of his neck, pulling their foreheads flush while her knee nudges against his thigh, falling open for him once more. His fingers return obediently to the joy of sinking into her wet, squishy cunt and Feyd breathes wordless adoration against her parted lips, eyes hooded, cock hard, his chest a flurry of quick panting.

How badly, how madly, how deeply he loves her. He should finally tell her. 

"Will you, ahh, eat me out like during our first time?" She whines, lashes fluttering open while her pelvis needily grinds against the steady pace of his hand.

"I'll touch you however you please, my Lady," Feyd purrs, thumb brushing over her tender nub.

"Why, ahhh, why are you calling me that? Lilia called me that too."

"Because you're my Lady Harkonnen."

To be his Lady - whatever that exactly means - fills her cheeks with warmth and drives her pelvis upwards, because she likes the way it sounds. "But I already have a last name," she pants. Feyd cocks his head to the side, fingers slowing down, and a foreboding overcomes her. 

"You know they gave you to me as my bride?"

"Gave me to you?!" Her blissful expression dissolves at once and she sharply sits up, forcing Feyd to withdraw his hand unless he'd like to have his wrist snapped. "I'm not your property."

"Well, no, you're my wife." He looks at her pleadingly. "Or, you will be, very soon."

His woman puffs herself up and for a moment he thinks she's going to explode not with the bliss he had meant to bring her, but with rage.

"How come I wasn't made aware of that? Do marriages no longer require consent from both sides?"

"I thought it was self-explanatory." Helplessly, he lifts his arms and shoulders in a gesture of defense. Two fingers of his right hand glitter obscenely with her essence.

"It is not." She stares at him with wide, steely eyes and her fingers reach for his clothed knee, clutching it tightly. "Mankind really has gone back to the middle ages," she snaps. "No computers, and women are treated like cattle."

"I don't know what middle ages means, only that you are my bride," Feyd scowls.

"You don't realize how backwards this is, do you?" She tries to find compassion for his self-assured tone, the pouty lip and the stubborn eyes. "I can't believe you would…" 

She shakes her head firmly, biting back disappointment. They never used to have arguments like this, or arguments at all. It used to be only love and comfort and desire and now she feels like her rose-colored glasses have been yanked off her face and replaced with a filter of monochromatic awfulness.

"I would… What? Want you as my wife? Of course I want you as my wife. You're the only one I'd ever even consider."

"No, you're not listening." Huffing, she slumps back down, knees pressed together. Feyd can still see her slick-glistening cunt peeking out enticingly between her thighs but decides to keep his hands to himself while his betrothed is so angry. She sighs heavily and hates how this last sentence made her feel - belly full of pulsing butterflies. "Fine, let's talk about this some other day and let's pick up where we left off?"

"As you wish, my Lady," Feyd coos, calloused hands slipping over her knees. Pleasant goosebumps break out all across her flesh and her fingers slide down to tangle with his. She's missed him so terribly, she could cry.

"We have protection, yes?"

"Protection?" He frowns and his woman's fingers freeze threateningly on his knuckles. "No one would dare disturb us here. I'll take care of you-"

"Protection from pregnancy, you idiot!" She almost slaps him square across the apple of his stupid cheek and her livid expression stops his crawling advance over her body.

Feyd flinches, eyes blown wide with surprise and he looks five years younger like this. Immediately, she feels awful and doesn't dare to imagine how awful she would have felt had she actually slapped him.

"But didn't you leave Earth to colonize your Solar System?"

"I'm an engineer, not an incubator."

"But we didn't take any precautions when we-"

"We were dreaming! Feyd, please. Don't give me an aneurysm and don't make me strangle you." 

"Okay, okay…" Cautiously, he pulls away, glancing at his scared woman before he bends down to his discarded jacket.

"Thank you," she sighs more softly. She does want him, wants to feel him everywhere, on her and in her. Looking at the shape of his broad back and narrow waist, she wants him so badly that it hurts.

Feyd pulls a small device from the pocket and clips it behind his ear. When he begins to utter guttural words in the language she doesn't yet understand (Her interface helpfully flashes, identifying the words as Harkunnin, along with an error message about incomplete reference data), she identifies the device as a transmitter.

"Getting us a contraceptive," Feyd mutters when he is done and lets the transmitter vanish in his pocket. "Can I kiss you while we wait? We don't need protection for that…"

God, he pouts, he actually pouts and she can't help but open her arms for him. Immediately, Feyd settles on top of her, chest flush against hers. One thigh pushes between her legs and she grows aware of the hard length confined by his trousers, his cock hot and solid as it grinds against her hip with soft, rutting movements.

Their pleasure is short-lived. A knock on the door drives them apart, or rather, his woman urges him away like she's ashamed to be seen making out with her own betrothed.

"Come in!" She calls and Lilia enters, carrying a tray with two ampules. The woman decidedly avoids eye contact with the na-Baron and bows deeply when he takes the delivery from her hands. Without a word, she scurries away.

"These are quick and effective. We also have formulas with a more long lasting effect. These give us about twenty-four hours," Feyd declares and swallows his dose without delay. His cock is leaking into his pants and he might just go insane if he waits any longer. He won't tolerate any further distractions. Technically, she doesn't need to take her dose on top of his, but Feyd already knew she would have freaked out if she didn't have her own.

She accepts the ampule and looks like she's immensely relieved that they have contraceptives at all around here. But of course they do. The na-Baron can't go around and impregnate every pet he's ever fucked.

His woman's eyes are focused and he realizes she's probably scanning the ampule. By the look on her face, she is not satisfied with the result.

"So, the effect is immediate?"

"Give it a minute or so, but yes." Feyd regards her with hooded eyes and reaches for her waist. When she slips away again, he is seriously tempted to take her to a playroom instead and shackle her to the headboard, fuck her until both of their bodies are numb and her chip is fried.

The engineer climbs off the bed and squats in front of the cryo pod, opening up the BioChem compartment. Equipment that she is not the most familiar with unfolds rapidly in front of her, offering her a tiny workstation. Instructions race over her interface, accompanied by a voiceover directly into her head.

"What are you doing?" Feyd growls with a voice as rough as a whetstone when she brings out a petri dish and drips a tiny droplet of the supposed contraceptive on there. She can barely hear Feyd over the voiceover so she sees herself forced to switch it off when stomping footsteps approach her from behind. "What. Are. You. Doing?"

"Just analyzing a sample real quick. I'm no biologist, but the medical module of the Sarcophagus' program should be able to tell me if-"

"Are you serious?" He barks. "I want to sleep with you." His arms wrap around her waist and drag her backwards, face buried in her neck, lips warm and wet against her skin, nibbling and kissing. She just barely manages to push the petri dish in the slot where it belongs.

"Feyd, wait!" She struggles against his hold though her core floods with heat under the assault of his lips. This is how people end up pregnant - because someone's lips and hands felt too good. "Why are you so… So angry?"

"Why are you so scared of me, and fighting me?! It's just me."

"I'm not scared, I'm just-"

"Don't lie! You are scared, I can see it in your eyes. And you think I'd betray you and give you a faux contraceptive."

With great power of will, she tears her neck away from his lips and spins around in his arms, walking him backwards until his thighs hit the edge of the bed and his knees bend. He looks up with big eyes, pleading and angry, pouty lips parted just a sliver, revealing the inkiness of his teeth behind them.

Feyd is convinced that she will slap him, the way she looks down at him like no woman ever has in his life, but she only cups his face firmly with both hands.

"I'm sorry but I will complete this test. I trust you, but I don't trust anyone else. Do we really know whose hands have prepared these ampules?"

He looks like a kicked puppy, or more like an alligator with a currently closed maw full of sharp teeth. But she also sees the acceptance in his gaze and that he deeply admires her wit.

"Fine then." Wistfully, he lets the fabric of her shirt slip from his fingers as she turns away.

This isn't how she had expected her next encounter with the BioChem compartment to go. Squatting bare-assed on the floor while the man she's in love with paces up and down behind her like a tiger in a cage. From her interface, which is permanently linked to the Sarcophagus as long as she's in range, she selects the molecular analysis tool, giving some pointers by adding that the sample at hand is assumed to be a contraceptive.

Estimated time: 47 seconds

"How long will this take?" Feyd rumbles.

"Only a minute."

"Why didn't you say that sooner!" He stops the pacing and watches, finding a modicum of appreciation for the scarily multifunctional metal block that dominates her room. Surely there are other uses for the sarcophagus that no human in his universe has ever even dreamed of.

"Oh, thank God," she sighs.

Analysis complete…

Rowing in Eden – Ah, the Sea! Might I but moor – Tonight – In Thee! - Wild Nights - Wild Nights! by Emily Dickinson, 1861

A/N: In the next chapter they're finally doing it, I swear 😩

TAG LIST:

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@esolean, @szapizzapanda, @coastalcowgirl35

[em-ontv]

Hi I’m the anon who sent you the idea for “sing a song for me” and it’s literally so perfect I can’t wait to read the second part. I might cry a little I’m not even lying this was a dream I had and I was like huh wow that would make a cool fanfic but I can’t write at all. And you made it even better than I could’ve imagined thank you so much 🥰

Sing a song for me. (2/2)

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!fem!reader

Warnings: injuries/scars, comfort/intimacy (non-explicit), language, no use of y/n, Butcher being Butcher, probably ooc Ben (I made him a bit too gentle, we don't need more trauma), not proof-read

A/n: hello, anon! I'm so glad you liked part 1, this is the long due part 2 I promised. Hope you like it <3 sorry for taking so long to write this :'(

Read part 1 here

Word count: 2.4k

The inside of the van was cramped and smelled faintly of oil and sweat. The seats were worn, the leather cracked from use. The night outside was dense, you saw just enough stars to remind yourself that while you were locked away, there was a whole other world out there beyond your cell.

You sat beside Ben, who kept casting glances your way as if he was afraid you'd shatter. But you couldn't blame him... you must have looked terrible. The bruises, the exhaustion, the haunted look in your eyes. You didn't even bother to look at yourself in the reflection of the window on your way into the van. It felt like too much—like you couldn't handle what Vought had done to you. Not yet.

The ride was mostly silent until Butcher finally spoke.

"Alright, love, here's the deal." he said, breaking the silence. His eyes looked over you, his expression calculating. "We need to know now. Are you in, or do we drop you somewhere nice and safe to rot? We're taking down Homelander. It's not a bloody game."

Hughie shifted uncomfortably, his mouth opening like he wanted to say something, but he stayed silent. You stared back at Butcher, trying to gather your thoughts, trying to form words, but your head was spinning.

You knew what he was asking, but it felt too much to make that decision right now. You just wanted to rest—a bed, a moment to breathe without fear clawing at your throat.

"Alright, back the fuck off." Ben's voice snapped, breaking through the haze of your thoughts. The tension in the van spiked, and for a second, it looked like he was ready to lunge across the seat at Butcher and knock all of his teeth out. "Can't you see she's been through enough? She doesn't need your bullshit right now."

Butcher's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he met Ben's glare. "We don't have time for second-guessing, mate. It's a very simple question."

Butcher turned his gaze back to you. "You can help us take down Homelander, the bastard who’s got half the world wrapped around his fuckin' finger, or we can take you back home. But no guarantees, yeah? Vought knows about you. They’ll come for you. Eventually."

You swallowed hard, rubbing a hand over your throat, your mind spinning. Home? That word didn't even feel real. Could that place—that cell—even be worthy of being called something like home?

But then again, if you didn't help, could you ever be safe again? For once in a very long time, the choice was yours, but both paths seemed like a death end.

"She needs time." Ben said, his jaw tensing, quietly observing you as if he knew what you were thinking. The hand that he rested on your back made you flinch slightly, causing him to retract it, his fingers curling into a fist.

Your gaze faltered, your eyes dropping to the ground before you managed to look back at Butcher.

A sharp huff escaped Butcher, his patience worn out. “Time's not a luxury we've got. This ain't a charity." He turned toward you, his tone biting. "Again, you can go back to your cozy little cell, I suppose. Vought’ll just find a new use for you.”

"For fuck's sake, she just got out of an shithole." Ben snapped, his voice simmering with anger. "Give her some fuckin' time."

For a moment, Butcher looked like he might argue with some witty comeback, but after a beat, he exhaled sharply, turning his attention back to the road. "Fine. But time's ticking."

The rest of the drive was quiet. You leaned back in your seat, your eyelids heavy, letting your eyes close for just a moment, the noise faded into the background as you let exhaustion win over.

––––

When you reached the destination, Ben helped you out of the van, his movements cautious, his hand warm and solid on your lower back as he guided you inside. The "safe house" was as secure as it was miserable, but right now, that didn't matter. It was shelter, and it was enough.

The others dispersed, Butcher grumbling quietly under his breath as he stalked off to another room, Frenchie and Kimiko greeted you with a wave before leaving too.

Ben, though, lingered by your side, his hand hovering near yours, gently brushing against it for a second, but he didn't dare to reach for you.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice rough but oddly gentle, his gaze never leaving your face. It wasn't something you expected to hear from him—after seeing his quite violent display in the lab, but here he was, looking at you with more concern than anyone else ever had.

You nodded, a small smile curling on your lips, swallowing thickly. "I'm... yeah. Just... tired," you were almost embarrassed by how weak you sounded, but he didn't judge, a faint understanding in his expression.

Hours passed in a tired blur. You had settled into a room, a worn-out bed, but it was better than nothing. Everyone retreated to their own corners of the place for what little rest they could find. You sank into the mattress, your eyes drifting shut almost instantly.

––––

It was sometime past midnight when Ben jolted awake, a cold sweat clinging to his skin, running a shaky hand over his face. The room was pitch dark, save for the faint glow of moonlight outside filtering through the window. He sat up, his heart pounding, the remnants of the dream clinging to him.

Images flashed through his mind—memories of Vought, of his own time in their hands, of the time when he was betrayed, taken away, being tested on, and then frozen for decades. His breathing was ragged, the familiar surge of anger clawing its way to the surface, but something else broke through.

His thoughts drifted to you.

Without really thinking, he got up, slipping out of his room and down the hallway, to the room where you slept. His steps were slow, cautious, not wanting to disturb you.

He hesitated at the doorway to your room, his breath catching when he saw you lying there, on the narrow, uncomfortable bed.

In the dim light, your features were softened, the lines of worry and pain absent. You looked peaceful, your breathing slow and steady, and it eased something in him, his shoulders sagging as the tension slipped away.

Ben took a step into the room, but the floor creaked under his weight, and your eyes snapped open, sitting up on the bed, startled.

"...m'sorry," he whispered, his voice soft but hoarse, like something was bothering him. "Didn’t mean to wake you."

"It’s okay," you murmured, your breathing becoming steady. Your eyes flickered over his face, the lingering pain in his expression catching you off-guard.

You knew that something was wrong, you'd seen that look before, in patients who had been through a lot, in people who had lost themselves along the way.

He hesitated, glancing away, as if embarrassed by his own vulnerability. He looked like he might turn and go back to his own room—but his uneven breathing made him pause. The sight of you was comforting, and that kind look in your eyes made him move closer instead of backing away.

He took a few careful steps closer, almost unsure. "Just wanted to… make sure you were alright," he said, his voice low.

You nodded, your heart still pounding, but not from fear this time, it was something warm. "I’m okay. Just… hard to sleep sometimes."

He nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes. He sank down to one knee, then both, kneeling beside your bed, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him and his slow breaths. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence heavy but comforting.

Without thinking, you lifted your hand, resting it gently against the side of his head, your thumb brushing over his temple. His eyes widened, a brief moment of shock crossing his face.

"What are you—?" his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the touch almost made him wince in pain from how gentle it was. It was like your fingers brushed against some soft spot inside of him, he almost melted.

"It's okay... trust me," you started, trying to reassure him. His eyes met yours, the initial tension easing. He didn't pull away, but instead leaned into your touch in a quiet surrender. "My powers, they'll help," you added softly.

At your voice, his eyes fluttered shut, his expression softening as he exhaled a long, shaky breath. The walls he had built around himself crumbled bit by bit the more he felt your touch.

You hesitated, then began to hum—a soft, gentle melody, barely audible but enough to fill the silence. It felt strange, using your powers willingly again, but different this time... it brought you back to the bittersweet memories of your time before Vought. The tune was simple, soothing, a song you’d sung so many times before. Not destructive, but safe, warm.

As the notes drifted through the air, you felt Ben’s body relax under your touch. His breathing slowed, each exhale deeper, more even, and his hand reached up, covering yours as he pressed your palm closer to his face, silently grounding himself in the warmth of it.

His thumb brushed over the back of your hand, a gentle touch, and he felt something he thought he lost... peace. A kind of comfort that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Or something that he thought he'd given up for good, back in the old days, or maybe he'd never had it to begin with.

When your humming finally faded, he stayed there, his hand still covering yours, his eyes still closed. For a second, you thought he might have fallen asleep, but then he spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

"I don’t deserve this," he murmured, his tone laced with a sadness that made your heart ache. "You don't understand what I've... the things that I did."

You shook your head, your hand instinctively wanting to fall from the side of his face but he only held you closer with a conflict—whether he wanted to push you away or pull you into his arms and not let go.

"All I know is that I would've been stuck in that lab if it weren't for you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "A favor for a favor. I think that's fair."

"Well, it wasn't entirely my choice to break you out," he muttered, that blunt tone of his slipping through, as if it was his last attempt to pull away before sinking too deep.

A soft scoff escaped your lips. "Whatever it was, at least I'm not stuck there anymore."

Slowly, you pulled him up onto the bed beside you, and he let you, his movements careful like he was afraid he might shatter the moment. You shifted, settling so that you were facing him, the blanket fell from your shoulders to pool around your waist, leaving the bruises and scars on your arms exposed under the dim light.

Ben’s gaze traveled over each mark, each scar, but there was no horror in his expression, no pity—only reverence. He reached out, his fingers brushing over a bruise on your shoulder, gentle and careful, as if touching something precious.

"They did this to you," he murmured, a hardness in his voice. It wasn't a question, but a statement. He knew too well.

You nodded, swallowing thickly. "They're fading." you said, looking away for a moment, as if you didn't want to acknowledge the scars.

Without a word, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to the bruise on your shoulder, a feather-light kiss that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Ben...?" you asked hesitantly. The small tremble in your voice made him stop, a flash of worry crossed his face, his teeth biting at his lower lip. He thought he might have overstepped.

"I'm... sorry," he whispered, pulling back. He feared that he had ruined whatever small trust that had begun to form between you.

But your fingers threaded through his hair, hand pressing to the back of his head to bring him closer again. "Stop apologizing," you breathed softly.

His eyes met yours and a small smile threatened to curl up on his lips, a mutual understanding settled between the two of you before his head dipped down to the crook of your neck. His lips brushed against your skin, kissing an old scar, then he kissed another, and another, his mouth trailing over each scar, each bruise, as if he was trying to erase the pain they held. It felt like an apology, like he was mending you.

His touch was careful, almost reverent, and you felt the warmth of each kiss seep into your skin, soothing the ache that lay beneath. You closed your eyes, letting the gentleness of his touch wash over you.

You felt your chest restricting, your breath becoming shallow, you couldn't remember the last time you'd been so taken care of. It was overwhelming, but you didn't want him to stop.

Ben’s hands were rough, calloused from years of fighting, but the way he touched you was anything but. He cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing away the tears that had slipped down your cheek without you even noticing. Then he closed the distance, pressing his lips to your forehead, a kiss so soft, so full of warmth that it made your chest warm and ache at the same time.

"You're safe," he whispered. "You're still here, and I'm with you." It wasn't much, but it was the most reassurance anyone could get out of him.

You leaned into him, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, and he sighed, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek, his gaze soft and unguarded in a way you hadn't seen before.

Slowly, he pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you as you settled your forehead against his chest, his heartbeat steady against your ear. You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into his warmth. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe.

After a long silence, you spoke, your quiet voice breaking the quiet. "Hey... Ben?"

"Yeah?" he replied, his voice a murmur against your hair.

"I'll help you take down Homelander."

[mothiepixie]

If I may, and if you haven’t answered it yet, how do all the boys react to Mottie being/getting sick?

Absolutely!! I hope you enjoy

Sans:

He knows something is off immediately; Maybe he hasn't gotten a call or a text like he's used to that day. He tries to think nothing of it but usually before noon he gets at least a text. He sends a quick meme that he knows would have her key smashing a reply, but he gets nothing. He lets it be and just figured she's busy, but when half the day has gone by that's when he decides to give a call.

The moment he hears her voice, he grimaces at how coarse it sounds. “geez, have you been chewing glass?” And he knows it's bad when she doesn't retort and just hears a quiet sigh.

“yeah, i agree.. not one of my best jokes… hang on, kiddo.” He doesn't give time for Motti to think and hangs up. He'll show up at her house with a bag full of soup and such. He's nonchalant about the hold thing, but he's pretty worried. He doesn't like that she barely responds.

He stays late making sure she's okay.

Boysen:

Their world isn't soft when it comes to caring for others. Boysen has different ways of showing affection, and only will get better in the later years that doesn't have to do with showering in gifts. And so, when Motti first gets sick he is concerned but he's also unsure what to do. He is a bit of a germaphobe and human sickness is always something that disgusts him.

So, there he stands at Motti's side; he has gloves on, clear up to his elbows, an apron while holding a tray of soup, juices and medicine. Through his mask, he tells her sternly that she's to finish it all and to shower after and he'll wash her clothes. She'll thank him and he just says “Don't thank me, just quit being diseased.”

Big Red:

He doesn't realize right away that Motti is sick, but when she blatantly tells him, he inwardly panics. He's reliving trauma from his younger years of when he,or Papyrus, was ill, and they had to hide it. Staying locked away or pretending they weren't weak in fear of someone coming for them at their worst.

He doesn't know how to react other than telling her she can't leave their house and to stay out of sight. It confuses her, and freaks her out a little, and Red gets more angry at himself for frightening her.

He barks at her to relax and obviously she can't now. So in frustration, he asks what she needs and he'll get it. He doesn't know how to take care of her needs since monster illnesses are different from humans, and he hates how he feels helpless.

Although there isn't much for him to do but watch her sniffle and hack her lungs out, he sulks and gets frustrated when she tries to do anything herself. “ya dont gotta get up, damn it! i'm right here!” And will grumble all the way to the kitchen.

Farmer:

It's nearly the crack of dawn when he gets a call from Motti. She can barely get a word out without going into a coughing fit. He hears her sniffling, but he cannot tell if it's because of her stuffy nose or she's crying.

“I'm so sorry, but can I ask you to take care of my animals for me?”

The cracking of her voice breaks his heart. “you never have to ask, peaches.”

He has the majority of her chores done before the sun even rises. Of course, Papyrus helped as well since he was already up, but he pushed Sans to go check on her frequently.

Homemade soup was brought over frequently and Farmer tells her about how sassy Creampuff has been since Motti has been bedridden. Farmer is a master at playing it cool, but when he goes home he lies in his bed worried about her. He doesn't like that she's alone and ill. He thinks about changing that.

Dream:

He senses it and will come to check on her. Although he's never been sick himself, he has felt it through millions of lives and knows just how miserable Motti is.

He is the best at taking care of her because he will know when the symptoms get worse or come back before she does. She'll wake up and he will be there with a glass of water and medicine, urging her to take it before her previous medicine fully wears off. She doesn't have to ask, seek or express her needs and Dream is there with whatever she requires.

With him being there also improves her mood and makes her feel better faster.

Cross:

He fumbles around the most when he realizes she is sick. “Oh whoa, okay. Let's get you to bed, yeah???” but he's quick to make sure she's taken care of. He feels a bit awkward and not sure what she needs so he looks up what's best for humans. But he also realizes humans can die (that's his fault for looking at webmd)

But he'll make chicken soup from scratch, and feed it to her. He doesn't like how miserable she sounds and he will pull her into his lap to let her rest against his chest. He doesn't know how else to help but feed her and comfort her. He's not a big fan of feeling helpless and secretly panicking that she has some terminal illness disguised as a cold.

Ink:

Unfortunately he doesn't really take care of Motti. He will hang around her and keep her company, maybe grab a few things for her here and there, but he's more interested in distracting her. If he drinks one of his vials, then the worry sets in and he comforts her.

Nightmare:

He will feed off her misery and surprisingly that makes her get well faster? Forces the others to take care of her though and gets agitated if they buffoon around. Ends up doing himself and snippily if anyone points it out.

[yellowbunnydreams]

Mechanised Devotion (Part 12) FINALE ~Steve Raglan/William Afton x Female Reader~

~Thank you so much for all your support on this project of mine guys! I really am blown away by how many of you have been enjoying the story and I can only hope that my first attempt of 'X Reader' has been written well! Also this one gets spicy Sorry this one is so chunky!~

Word count so far (all parts:) 25,162

Tag List!: @ruh--roh-raggy @likoplays @perfectlycraftychaos @kawikami @dilfity

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

CW: Minors DNI, (18+ ONLY), Female Reader, afab reader, legal age gap (Reader- 20's, William - 40's), mention of crimes and violence, blood, mentions of child death (it's FNAF, what did you expect?), past trauma; abusive relationships. Stalking. Religious imagery? Dub-con if you squint, knife play? Biting. Torture? BDSM? Oral (female recieving), multiple orgasms, creampie

William Afton stared at the mugshot that had been placed on the table in front of him. His younger, less bearded self who didn't need the glasses as much and had less lines to betray his stress. A cock-sure grin on his face even back then, it was undeniably him.

"Where did you get this?" He asked, swallowing dryly as he managed to tear his silver eyes away from the flash from the past. Seeking out yours as he held out his arms, palms up as he took a slow and deliberate step towards you, feeling his own stomach turning as you took an equal step back from him. It hurt something inside of him as he watched you purposefully avoiding his eyes, keeping your distance. "Sweetie-"

"Don't call me that." You snapped, choking on your words as you hugged your arms around yourself. Feeling yourself shake as you realised you had been clinging onto some scrap of hope that he would deny it, or joke about how it was some stupid prank he'd pulled when he was younger to try and appear tough to his friends. But there was nothing of the sort falling from his lips.

He sighed your name, taking another step towards you and side-eyeing Vanessa whilst he moved. Scowling his disapproval at her as he knew she must have been something to do with it all. He felt cornered, trapped by his own actions. Afton did not like to be prey.

"I asked, where did you get this? That's all I want to know." Trying to keep his voice as the warm one you knew, but you could hear some of the bass and gravel breaking through as the mask slipped further from the image you knew.

"I'm not going to tell you that Ste-..William." You fumbled over his name again, but spat his name with venom he never would have expected. Like it soured your tongue just to say it. He'd dreamed of hearing you say his name, his real name, but after that kiss that you had initiated, he only thought it would be spoken with tenderness or cried for when he introduced you to his pleasures and pains.

It really riled him up that none of this had gone to plan.

"Please, please just tell me. I just want to know where you got it from, and I can clear all of this up. It's a misunderstanding! A silly little thing gotten out of hand, but we can't have stupid things like going around and ruining my, our, reputation can we?" He cooed, taking another step towards you and feeling that stabbing pain in his chest as you continued to move one back.

"Our reputation?" OUR REPUTATION?!" You found yourself shaking in fear and rage as he tried to pin it on the both of you, weasel his way between the cracks of your question and turn it back onto you. You realised now that it had always been that way with him, how much had you even known about the man before you before you kissed him? You knew what he said his favourite pie was, you thought you knew he was kind and considerate. You thought you knew he was real. "Fuck you, my reputation was with a man who never existed." Feeling your eyes prickling with hot tears, turning your back on him after a few steps, noticing Vanessa giving a sympathetic smile as she gestured towards the door with her head.

Following behind the blonde, you heard the heavier footsteps behind you, calling your name softly, then firmly. Growling it when the sweetness didn't work on you anymore. Hearing him say your name was almost too much, almost made you want to stop and tell him you were sorry. But you kept putting one foot in front of another. Vanessa already outside the front door and waiting for you, her hand extended slightly as if to guide you back out into the forgiving night air.

Behind you, William collapsed to his knees, hitting the wooden flooring with a heavy 'thud'. Feeling his eyes become hot and stinging in a way he didn't enjoy. He hadn't cried many times in his life, and he wasn't sure why he wanted to now, not entirely. Having you ignoring him was frustrating, but it also hurt. There was something undeniably attractive and charming about you, even when you weren't afraid or in pain. He had found himself drawn into your own web when you kissed him and to have that sensation suddenly ripped from him was almost too much.

But he was an Afton, he was William Afton, and that meant he endured.

He put his hands on the floor, head bowed and his breathing turned ragged and shuddering, eyes closed for a moment before he looked up again, watching as your foot was about to cross the threshold out of his home. Out of his reach.

"Doll please, please I-" He choked on his own words as his deep voice began to crack with emotion. "I wanted to tell you. Please," he called your name again, watching as you paused and turned your head, watching over your shoulder. His hands raising up and pointing to his own chest, feeling the rattling breaths in his chest as he tried to blink back tears. "don't make me beg. I never meant for it to go this far, but you.. oh you my doll were too precious for me to lose." He let his guts spill in his words, voice continuing to crack as he fought to hide his shaking hands as he reached out to you again.

"Don't you see? I knew you would see the monster everybody thinks I am, that I- that you deserved better than me. Some freak who felt for the first time in years when you kissed me." He couldn't see you clearly anymore as his cheeks and beard suddenly ran warm with tears.

It was almost pathetic, watching him on the floor with his arms upstretched towards you like a man in prayer. Begging for some deity to save him from himself. Something broke in your heart as you watched tears spill down his face and listened to his voice cracking, babbling between begging you to understand and painting himself in pity. You could see the way his calloused hands trembled, and in that moment, he looked frail, broken and lost.

"He's lying, come on. If you stay you'll die." Vanessa whispered harshly, tugging at your arm as you watched the giant of a man behind you curl into himself on his knees, hands covering his face and taking deep rasping breaths as he tried to contain himself. Rocking back and forth slightly in place.

"Please, please just tell me why you want to leave?" He begged you, and you felt Vanessa's grip tighten on your arm.

"Come on! You can't seriously believe anything he's saying."

"Why have you left me here like this? Why now?"

"Please, he's having a tantrum, he'll wipe away those tears as soon as you turn your back."

"Didn't you love me, even just a little bit?"

His final plea broke you and you began to cry openly. Tears streaming down your face as you looked back at Vanessa, freedom from the monster on the floor just footsteps away.

"Forgive me." You whispered as you wrenched your hand from her grip, causing her to gasp out as you stepped back and locked the door. Hearing her pounding it from the outside before you turned to look at the mess you had made. Drowning out her voice as you cautiously took steps towards William.

He heard you steps approaching, his glasses fogged up and streaked by his tears, sniffling as his hands moved from his face, holding them open to you once again almost in prayer. To be saved from himself, from the loneliness that such a life of sin had led him into. Carefully, as if he might bite, you took his glasses and placed them to one side. Looking clearly at his face and placing your hands on top of his open ones. Feeling the callouses beneath your smooth, soft hands. You were the saint to his sins, uncorrupted, soft and hurting.

But who in all the centuries of religion had anybody prayed for the devil?

He pulled you in as your hands touched his, unable to resist his strength as your body slammed into his. His strong arms wrapping around your smaller body in a tight embrace as you felt his hot, sticky breath against your head and neck, one hand cradling against the back of your head so that your forehead rested against one broad shoulder. Your hands pressed against his chest, trapped between your bodies as he squeezed you tightly, shaking softly and taking deep, rattling breaths as he tried to compose himself.

"Didn't I tell you once, I wanted you to answer my questions when I asked them?" He whispered into your ear, his lips brushing the gentle curve and letting his breath move across you skin to create Goosebumps. Although you took a moment to recognise the words, you had heard them in a more demanding tone before.

He's been there since the very beginning. And suddenly the fact he had found you wondering the roads didn't seem like luck, but cold calculated planning. You began to struggle against him, trying to separate yourself from the embrace but he only held on tighter, his thick fingers moving through your hair as he made soothing noises.

"Do you really think after everything you've made me feel, after everything I have done for you...Everything I will continue to do for you, doll, that I would let you go?" He asked, feeling the grief of loss turn into a cold, hungry anger in his chest as he had you pressed against him.

"Please I-"

"Please what, my darling?" He cooed, still gravelly and voice more even, cracking less as he turned his head and bit your earlobe gently, making you gasp and jump, eliciting a satisfied hum from the giant man.

"Please William, please just let me go. I-I promise nobody will know about-" Another bite cut off your words as he progressed from your earlobe to along your jaw, causing another gasp to fall from your lips as you tried to push him away, yelping as he bit harder as a punishment for not remaining still in his arms.

"You see, I really want to believe that doll, I really do. But I have too many things I want...no, I NEED, to do to you. I told you that you were too precious to me, and I meant it." He pulled back from his attention on your jaw and smiled ruefully at you, fingers tightening in your hair and forcing your head back for him. Groaning and feeling his cock twitch in his slacks as he studied the bruises already showing on your skin from his teeth. "But you hurt me, you hurt my heart, you hurt my trust, and you hurt me physically."

Controlling you by the back of your head, he used his teeth to unwind the bandages around his right arm, revealing mostly healed, sunken pinkish-white scars in a strange pattern of dots and rings like those you had seen on his back whilst he was shirtless. Confirming what you knew about him being the one in the Spring Bonnie costume, the one who had hurt you. Saved you. Made you melt. Made you freeze.

"So how about this? I get to mark you up and show the world who you belong to really. Steve Raglan would never do such a thing to a pretty cry-baby like yourself, but I, William Afton, am a great believer in symmetry." his voice was husky as he unfolded himself from beneath you, making you cry out as you were dragged up by the back of your head, feeling his heavy footsteps carry you easily across the floor despite your kicking and fighting protests.

He led you up the stairs, still holding onto you before taking you to the end of the hallways which you recognised as his bedroom. You struggled against his vice-like grip, but he was far bigger and stronger than you as he opened the door and flung you on the bed like you were nothing to him. Not quite recognising the yellow tube that bounced as you hit the mattress, but as he quickly straddled your thighs as you tried to sit up, you saw the dark hunger back in his eyes. Grabbing something from behind the headboard as he loomed over you.

Pulling out a length of rope, he worked quickly, pulling on your left arm and sliding the thick heavy tube over your arm. Cold metal filled the inside and you swore that you felt what you would have called knives lining it, his large hands expertly tying your smaller wrists above your head and leaving you no option for escape from him.

Leaning in, he brushed his nose against yours, speaking slowly and softly, but in that hungry tone that made your core heat up even as the hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

"That doll, is part of a springlock costume. You've seen me wear it before, well, inside of that beautiful piece of kit is lots of metal holding back the animatronic parts. You should remember what happens when you set it off." He chuckled, gesturing to his forearm as you got the cold realisation that he had placed the same thing on your arm. "So what I'm going to do, is I'm going to give you matching scars with me darling. Consider it a belated punishment for hurting me." He smirked, his breathing hitched and excited as he looked at you, vulnerable and helpless beneath his larger body.

You sobbed as you tried to pull against your bindings, but William looked down at you and felt himself aching, you looked so pretty beneath him. Manoeuvring off of your thighs, he seemed to drink you in with dark eyes, almost all of the sweetness you had know gone from them. His large hands gripped your thighs, lifting them easily and sliding them along your body, across your hips and pausing as his thumbs slid up your hoodie, feeling your warm skin beneath them and he took a moment to look back up at you before his fingers moved deftly, unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them down in a swift motion. Another tug and they were thrown into the corner of his room, and you felt the shame burning in your chest as the cold air hit your body that you were turned on by him. Your hands clenching into fists as you tried to squeeze your thighs together and hide yourself from him.

William was stronger and faster however, levering them back apart at the knees and taking a shuddering breath as he looked at the black lacey thing you had on beneath. Growling lowly in his chest, his rough hands moved up the inside of your thighs, setting the skin afire despite your sobs and the fear burning through your mind. Feeling small parts of it replaced with arousal as you looked down at the man, watching him lean in closer to your body.

"W-William please, what are you doing?" You sobbed, watching as his eyes snapped away from your core to your face, giving that warm, lopsided smile that made your heart flutter as he crawled up your body, hands either side of your chest and his hips sliding into place between yours, letting his weight fall against your smaller body as he leaned in and licked your cheek following the path of one of your tears. One hands reaching up and wiping the rest from your cheek with his thumb as he seem to contemplate what to say.

"I'm proving to you I'm not as much of a monster as you think I am, sweetie. See, if I was a monster, I would have brought the whole suit and let you experience everything all at once! But instead, I'm only letting you have a tiny bit," tapping the suit piece on your arm and making you wince as you imagined it going off then and there "and I'm going to give you pleasure even. Won't that be nice? Pleasure and pain all mixed together so perfectly?"

His hand snapped to your throat, holding it up and humming, squeezing just under your jaw and making your head spin as he avoided crushing your windpipe and instead just restricted the blood-flow to your brain. Making your head spin and throb as you were forced to stare into his silvery eyes, trying to figure out what he was waiting for when you recalled something from earlier. Swallowing desperately as you tried to speak.

"I-I'm scared William, this i-isn't how I wanted it to be." His eyes softened for a moment as he released his grip on your neck, allowing blood to rush back to your head and see stars once again as he lovingly stroked your neck, trailing down your chest and gripping one breast through your hoodie, rough and harsh, making you cry out as he hummed again.

"Good girl, you remembered I hate having questions not answered. I know you're scared sweet girl, but I don't want that feeling to go away. This isn't how I wanted to take you either, I mean, I had so many plans. There was going to be a whole time-line, stripping away pieces of myself until you fell in love with the real me. But you had to ruin my fun and make me act, didn't you? You pretty little thing."

William pressed himself against your core and watched as you bit your lip, fighting back making noise as you wanted to moan for him. Your shaking body beneath him was exquisite, and he began to kiss down your body, taking time to feel through your hoodie how the valley of your breasts fell along your sternum, the dip and curve of your stomach as you tried not to hyperventilate. The flare of your hips under his hands as his fingers hooked into your panties and pulled them down swiftly. A mix of eager and patient that seemed just right to him given the circumstances you were both under.

Even under the low light, William could see the slick coating your lips and shuddered as he knew you had been being turned on by his sick actions. Grabbing your hips with a growl, he lifted you up, barely supporting your lower back with one massive hand as he swung his body round. Pulling at your restraints as he positioned himself correctly, just how he wanted it to be. Laying on his back with his mouth beneath your dripping pussy, breath hot against your skin and his beard tickling the inside of your thighs. He grinned as he noticed how your back had to remain arched, pulling up his knees so you could lay your back against them should you fall back.

You jumped when his tongue slowly, teasingly lapped against your skin. Biting back a moan as he paid attention to the sensitive folds and unable to hold back a gasp as he pressed his lips to your swollen clit, kissing and sucking the sensitive little bundle of nerves and making your body shake more above him. His hands on your hips and holding you in place as he watched your expressions intently, arms still somewhat extended above your head by the rope. The older man focused on your pleasure, letting his tongue flick across and roll around the bud just to hear your gasps and repressed whines of desire.

Your eyes stung from crying, your shoulders and arms hurt from the position he had pulled you into. But the pleasure running through your core and sending shivers up your spine as you tried not to give him the satisfaction of hearing you made you melt.

Denying yourself to him was an almost fruitless exercise.

He growled into your body as he slipped his tongue from your clit to your hole, pressing it in and moaning as he fully tasted you for the first time. The grip on your hips tightening to an almost bruising force as you failed to stop a moan falling from your lips. The hungry fire in his eyes sparking at the sound and making him almost feverish to hear more, redoubling his efforts as he subtly pulled your hips back and forth, grinding you across his face as he lapped at your walls, wanting to hear you. To feel you give yourself over to him.

You tried to hold yourself together as William Afton worked to unravel you on his tongue, somehow knowing that as soon as you came undone, you would never be able to leave him again.

"William." His name fell from you like a whispered plea, a bitter prayer to an unfair god and you felt the vibration running through your body as he growled beneath you hearing his name in such a way. Removing his tongue from you and causing you to whine needily as the pleasure stopped, your legs forced apart further as he moved and slipped you over his shoulders, laying you back against his legs.

"Say my name again, doll." He demanded, sitting up and licking at his lips, letting the taste of you linger on him unlike your first kiss with him, his hands stroking your thighs as you laid against his legs, feeling your back being forced to arch by his slightly bent knees.

"William." It slipped out without thought, the walls of your resistance crumbling as your fear was replaced with arousal. You knew it was wrong, you should be attempting to escape, fight, anything but-

The thought was cut off as he slid his middle finger inside of you, making you moan as the thick digit stretched you with a rough intrusion. Hearing his shuddering breaths as he admired you under his control, under his spell once again even as you tried to deny it. A grin spreading across his face as he forced a second finger to join the first, relishing in the cry that came from you. Eyes watering as the stretch was painful and oh-so-good at the same time, your walls clamping around his fingers as he seemed to stroke at a part of you that made your body convulse and his fingers become crushed by your insides. William bit his lip as he too held back, trying not to snap and lose control as he watched your expressions, how your brow furrowed and your eyes fluttered for him, your lips parting and quivering as you gave him his own symphony of noises which only served to encourage him more.

You could feel your orgasm rapidly approaching, and your eyes fluttered back into your skull, clenching tighter around his fingers and more frequently, the lewd sound of your wetness finally reaching your ears as your brain finally gave in, desperate for release even if it was at the hands of monster.

"William I-... Oh god please I want to..."Your words cracking and broken, making William smile as he pushed his bottom lip out in a fake pout, looking down at you and the mess you were in his lap. So pretty. So vulnerable. All for him.

"Can't you use your words sweetie? Tell me what you want." He cooed, making you whimper as you tried to pull enough breath into your lungs so you could answer him.

"I need to cum, please William, please make me cum?" It had meant to be statement, but the whining, breaking tone in your voice made it sound like a request. One that the man was all too happy to oblige.

Rapidly changing his position, he laid besides you on his side, making you shake and gasp as suddenly the heel of his large hand had a chance to meet with and grind against your clit and you cried out. Feeling his warm breath against your ear and making you turn your head, the other arm snaking around your back and squeezing onto your shoulder, pulling you closer as he whispered against your lips.

"Give yourself to me."

And you came undone.

Your back arched as you cried out, hands clenching and unclenching as you squirmed, your wetness coating his fingers and hand. As the dopamine and euphoria washed through your body, you suddenly screamed as pain shot through your left arm, making you spasm harder and your eyes snap open, your hand clenching against it as you looked up, watching the white pillows become red as blood seeped from within the springlock suit. William's fingers pressing a thin rod into a small hole on the sturdy outside structure. You realised as your body convulsed from the searing pain and the orgasm that William prolonged by continuing to finger and palm your clit, that he had waited for your euphoria to inflict the pain on you.

He removed his fingers from you and brought them up to his face, cleaning them off and moaning as he tasted you again, looking down at your pained, confused expression as your body registered more pain than pleasure. Cuddling his face into your neck, he kissed along your ear as he whispered sweetly to you.

"That wasn't so bad was it? And you did so well for me. You make me feel so fucking hard when you call my name like that sweetie."

Moving again, he forced your legs apart again with with knees, reaching back and forcing off your shoes before focusing on you again. His large fingers worked deftly to tie your wrists, admiring the roped pattern they still held in pale bruises afterwards, then working on removing the springlock from your arm. Careful and considerate as he managed to move the pin and get them to reset, freeing your now bleeding arm. With your arms free, he made quick work of pulling your hoodie off and unclasping your bra, throwing both articles of clothing off into a corner to join the rest. His hungry gaze wandering your naked body as you cradled your injured arm against your chest and quietly sobbed.

And now, you were just like him. An angel and the devil bearing the same marks, more bonding than any ring or vow.

He took his time removing his shirt and undershirt, revealing his broad, muscular and scarred chest to you again. Your eyes naturally following the trail of hair down his chest and to his waistband before you even realised what you were doing. The smile on his face was almost cocky as he noticed it too, and his hands quickly worked on undoing his slacks, watching with relish as your eyes went wide at seeing his bulge for the first time.

Standing for a moment, he stripped off fully, his erection pulsing even without touching it, although as he looked at your bleeding, bruised body laid out before him, he couldn't help as he gave himself a few languid strokes. Groaning as his eyes fluttered before he finally crawled back onto the bed.

His knees forced your legs apart again, and he laid his weight against you oh-so carefully, like he was afraid he would crush you despite the fact he had just hurt you. Letting you feel his size lined up against your stomach and where it would reach inside you as he pulled your arms from your chest. Making you shiver and squirm as he licked up your bloody arm and he eyes darkened, moaning as he tasted you in a different way.

"Is there a part of you that doesn't taste good?" He asked, whispering your name as his nose rubbed against yours sweetly before he brushed his lips against yours.

"I-...William it hurts."

"I know sweetie, and you're going to hurt for a bit longer, but I know you're not going to make me hurt you like this again." He reassured, before you felt his lips capture yours again. Biting at your lip and making you gasp as he took to opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your arms automatically wrapping around his back and scratching your nails across his skin, making him moan and move his hips against you. His cock sliding between your folds and collecting your arousal, making you shiver each time he moved over your over sensitive clit, moaning into the kiss that tasted like iron and your arousal.

The weight of his body was reassuring, and the way he moved so sweetly against you almost made you forget about how your arm stung and felt too warm and wet. That hand moving into his hair and lacing into his greying hair, holding on as one of his hands similarly cradled your head, the other roaming your body as if committing it to memory. Squeezing and groping with a bruising intensity across your breast and hips. His tongue met with yours and letting them battle for dominance even though you knew that there was no way you could win. His kisses became sloppy, desperate as he growled and moaned, his hips rubbing against you faster as you felt the hot drool of precum smear across your stomach before he reached down from your hip.

Your breath was stolen as he slammed himself into you, a silent scream as he bottomed out in one motion and moaned your name. His fingers tightening in your hair as your nails scratched down his back. You could feel his cock pulsing inside your tightness for the brief moment he paused to savour you before he began fucking you with a burning intensity.

The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as both of you prickled with sweat under the intensity. William released your hair to sit up, kneeling on the bed and gripping your hips, pulling them up his lap as he slammed into you, knocking the breath from your lungs as he stretched and filled you in a way you had never felt before.

Even though he seemed to fill you everywhere, each stroke of his cock against your walls seemed to stoke another fire in your stomach, watching where you met for a few moment as his cock disappeared inside you. Hitting the spot that made breathing and thinking hard repeatedly as he moved feverishly, an intense look on his face as his brow furrowed, lip curled up into a snarl as he growled and grunted. Focused on how good you felt wrapped around him.

Noticing your lack of attention on him, he snarled and moved forwards, one arm caging you in whilst the other held your throat again, squeezing tight as he forced you to look into his dark eyes. Wide and wild as he felt himself coming closer and closer to his own orgasm, wanting to claim you utterly as his.

You were his. Utterly and entirely, and he would kill you before he let you go.

"William I'm... I'm going to cum again." You whined out, making the large man snarl. No words escaping him as he held your throat tighter and redoubled his efforts, slamming his hips into yours with furious intensity as he watched your face, glancing to where his cock slammed into your pussy and moaning, feeling his body shudder as he released your throat and leaned in, biting your shoulder harshly and making you yelp between the moans and whimpers that drove him into becoming feral.

"Fucking cum for me,... be mine. Never leave me again." He growled into your ear before biting at your skin again, being sure to leave painful hickeys across your skin as he slammed into you. Hearing you crying out his name as your body spasmed and arched under his, William's name falling from you like a pleading chant as you were wracked by your second orgasm. Coating him in your slick as he continued to thrust into you, becoming sloppy as he reached his own peak.

He moaned your name into your shoulder, holding you close with his arms wrapped around you, pressing you into his body as you felt his thrusts slow and become jerky. Feeling him filling you with thick, hot ropes of cum and making you shudder more as even as the ropes finished, he languidly rolled his hips into yours a few more times.

Laying together, both of you breathless as your bliss washed over you. He began to kiss your neck softly, paying attention to where he had bitten and bruised, trailing it over your arm and onto each deep cut that the springlocks had inflicted, making you wince before he brought his now red lips to yours. Kissing you softly, as gently and slowly as you had imagined your first kiss would have gone before your world fell apart and was rebuilt again by the same man.

Carefully, he pulled himself out of you, watching your body shiver as he reached over to the bedside table and pulled out a roll and bandages and gauze. Sitting on the bed and pulling you carefully into his lap so your back laid against his, kissing your head and shoulder before taking your arm and wrapping it carefully. So gently your heart fluttered that he was taking care of you, making sure he was soft after being so rough with you before.

"Never leave me, please sweetie? I wouldn't want to have to teach you another lesson if you tried to leave me again, I don't want to hurt you like this again. I want you to enjoy me, stay with me." William whispered as you turned your head to look at him, letting your lips meet in another soft and slow kiss before you rested your forehead against his.

"I promise William. I won't leave you again." and you meant every word of your mechanised devotion. Automatic, intense and everlasting, as you remained in the arms of William Afton and whispered sweet nothings to each other between kisses and bandages.

[taetr4ck]

Not a request but WHICH SKZ/NCT MEMBER WOULD YOU FIGHT GO!

a/n : i just opened my tumblr after a good whole week and this is what i first read FUCK IT WE BALL ! doing all of them because i feel a bit silly today

contents under the cut

STRAY KIDS

BANG CHAN - no. this is self explanatory tbh. i would straight up ask him to marry me

LEE KNOW - i would. but in return he would tell me how much my parents wrecked my whole being so i'll end up tearing up in the corner

CHANGBIN - one slap from this man and i'm already out of this world. he can literally slap me and the next second i'm already in the fifth dimension. no words needed. i would not fight him.

HYUNJIN - i would and then fall in love in the process

HAN - how could i fight this man ? RUTHLESS.

FELIX - i don't have the heart to tbh. i'll cry before i even land my first hit

SEUNGMIN - big yes tbh. i feel like he's the perfect person to pick a fight with. our competitive ass won't give up so easily unless one of us isn't breathing anymore LMFAO

JEONGIN - this man would stab me before i even know it

NCT 127

TAEIL - one glare from this man and i'm already shivering. 50/50.

JOHNNY - i should be punished for forgetting to put him here. what was i thinking !!!! anyway !! i feel like he would be the one to initiate the fight LMFAO he would straight up come to me and just do a ‘let’s do a square’ ‘aight bet’ kind of interaction tbh he would be the funniest person to pick a fight with. i would fight him. he’d be my sparring buddy afterwards

TAEYONG - bro he's about to do his military service leave him alone 😭🙏🏻 poor bubu i would not fight him

MARK - i would. then we will start throwing rap verses (special mention to jopping) like we didn't almost stabbed each other earlier

JAEHYUN - one punch and my skull is already cracked in half. nope

YUTA - i would just straight up kiss him tbh i would not last for five seconds looking at him

DOYOUNG - he would verbal abuse me tbh that's enough to wreck me

HAECHAN - one michael jackson merch for him and he's wrecked so easily. i would fight him.

JUNGWOO - boy this man would bring a baseball bat even though we agreed to have a fist fight. cheater. i would fight him

NCT DREAM

RENJUN - his glare is enough to kill me. 50/50.

JENO - man idc this is jeno we are talking about !!!! he can punch me in the face and i would not bulge !!!!

CHENLE - man he is the worst person to fight. one word from him and i’m already having a mental breakdown. he would unwrap every inch of my traumas from childhood to present. i won't risk it 🫡

JAEMIN - no because we will have our silly little tea party while talking about cute and pretty things

JISUNG - the idea itself makes us both want to cry

WAYV

KUN - he's too good to pick a fight with. my conscience could never

TEN - big yes. put those slutty muscles to work boy !

HENDERY - we would have a fight in valorant and i'd lose. can't risk my reputation for that smh (kidding)

XIAOJUN - this man would straight up launch at me like a fuckin dog. i would fight him (affectionately)

WINWIN - no. i would ask him to be his gf. no explanation needed

YANGYANG - we would have a pillow fight and the next second he's already holding a brick. i said let's have a pillow fight not give me a fucking concussion 😭🙏🏻

should i add my taglist here omg

⋆ taetr4ck, est may 2023. / requests open

[tupperwaretub]

Rick Grimes x M!reader

(A/n): this is inspired by the scene from towl above, I'm not doing well creatively so no cute title sorry.

Summary: after so long apart you and your boyfriend rick can finally unwind together, what neither of you fully realise is how badly the CRM has broken Rick. Smut into Fluff.

Warnings: sensual smut, panic attacks, mentions of trauma + death. Then fluffy comfort. (Because Lord knows Rick Grimes needs it).

The pair of you sigh and moan, Rick's cock filling your ass for the first time in years as you ride him and he thrusts upward into you desperate for your touch. He kisses you and lets out little moans laced with desperation.

You start to ride him faster and you grind on each other more passionately, getting closer to your release as you feel Rick cock twitch inside you.

Suddenly you feel Rick's breathing falter, it becomes rapid and you pull away, lifting yourself off his cock to look into his eyes. "Hey..." You mutter calmly as you hold his hand to your chest as an act of comfort. "You're okay...", you kiss his forehead and he leans into it as his breathing slows again and you lay next to each other, cocks softening.

You give Rick a few moments to gather himself before asking, "what did they do to you?..." Your hands cup his cheeks and you look into his gaze lovingly. "Th-they-" He manages to choke out but struggles due to a wave of emotions, you move your hand to squeeze his in a gesture of comfort and he takes a deep breath before managing to speak, "they took carl... Again", his voice broke and he sounded truly shattered and a shell of the man you knew eight years ago. You don't even remember him being this broken when Negan had him acting like a dog.

"What do you mean, love?", you calmly invite him to give you more information but kiss his hand to ensure he knows he doesn't need to push himself. Obviously knowing Rick, he pushes himself. "I had dreams about him, it kept me... Together. Eventually he- he just-", Rick's voice starts to crack again and you stroke his hair letting him take his time. "He just disappeared." He finally finishes.

That's all you needed to hear, you roll onto your back and hold him close to your chest knowing he needs the comfort of your embrace. You don't say anything, you just hold him tight as he breaks down into your chest. As heart breaking as this is you can't help but feel, is this one step closer to Rick healing?

[feefymo]

Omg loved this fic game =D

Let's go:

Kit Walker

Spanking kink

Third element: coping mechanism after Briarcliff

Dear anon, hi! I hope this time is the right time: I've been trying to post the fic based on your three requests since I still had baby teeth but Tumblr says "nuh-uh". Fingers crossed and let's have some fun!

"Nnnnot again. Enough, fuck... !" You heard Kit hiss through clenched teeth - so clenched he could have cracked them - so you stopped what you were doing and a shiny string of your saliva broke. For the first few seconds you had a bewildered expression but it didn't last long because you knew the problem. So, worry set in. The anguish of seeing your husband perpetually frustrated, so exasperated that you feared he might become seriously ill at any moment. You timidly raised a hand to your mouth and wiped it away as you peered at his tense form in the grass of your yard. July set Massachusetts on fire and so did you who lived there. For his part, Kit was sweating but not because he was enjoying the summer or your skimpy attentions. You, now kneeling between his legs, silently observed his sore and reticent sex as you pressed your tongue against the taste that remained in your mouth. It had never been easy between you two.

When he was free to leave Briarcliff there was no shortage of skeptics but you - who knew him from before - had never, ever doubted his innocence. You had loved him before he could even discover it and your dream of being loved back had come true. Obviously, Kit Walker was no longer the carefree, heartthrob boy he once was but you didn't care. The problem with sex had emerged almost immediately after he returned to "normal" and the thing that really drove him crazy was the fear that you didn't think he was involved enough. He never failed to satisfy you, no man had ever considered you with such concern but he... he was stuck. Stuck in the loop of some trauma he suffered that he didn't talk about. And you didn't dare ask. You just wanted to see him more peaceful. "My love..." you started in a syrupy voice before being interrupted by his fist tearing a tuft of grass. Kit let out a lamentation and shook his head before sitting up and looking at you with desperate, shaded eyes. The irises melted like chocolate on his sharp features. "No, come on. Don't tell me it doesn't matter, don't tell me it will be better next time. Don't tell me not to force myself, please." yet another demonstration that he knew you and listened to you, you closed your mouth and sighed. You made sure you had permission and caressed his cheek, a gesture he appreciated and settled against. He closed his eyes for just a moment. "I love you, I'm tired of... I need reciprocity, complicity but the problem is me. I'm a broken toy now, aren't I?" as it rarely did, your expression hardened and you had to grab onto your skirt to dispel your anger. "Don't you dare call yourself "broken", that's unfair. Did you hear me, Kit Walker? Never again." and Kit knew you didn't see him the way he saw himself but that biting severity hit him. It disoriented him because... he liked it. He stared at you with a vaguely lost look, while a monster now familiar to him mounted in his chest. He had been suppressing it since the moment you had met again but he was struggling to keep it at bay and his member hinted at his secret. It pulsed, forcing Kit to palm it. "Y/N, you see, I..." he was torn, you could see it in him. "Kit, together we will get through this too. Okay? But I can't keep quiet if you denigrate yourself like this. I just want you too to experience the well-being that you are able to give me. I want to make you feel good, there's something on your mind. .. can it work? Maybe you don't want to tell me, are you afraid that I will judge you? That it'll scare me?" at that point, Kit just flinched, as if he had actually been caught killing a poor woman in a brutal way. This made you realize that yes, there was something but he had never allowed it to surface. "Fine. I don't know if it's the solution, don't..." he sighed "Come with me. Let's go back to the kitchen." The house was burning and so was the wait your husband was subjecting you to. He needed to find the right way to communicate and you would put him at ease so, standing still, you began to drop your blouse and skirt onto the clean floor. Dressed only in lingerie with sage green embroidery, you caught Kit's lustful gaze, which resembled a hybrid between a free beast and a weak prey. In captivity. "Holy God, suga': you're breathtaking, I don't deserve you." "Kit." you took half a threatening step forward, showing a certain vehemence towards his victimhood. He wasn't interested, he wasn't mortified, on the contrary: he looked you up and down as if dazed. The right hand rubbing on the open fly of his jeans.

"Tell me how to make you come, Mr. Walker. Now." Now cornered, Kit bowed his head and swallowed dryly. He didn't say a word until he had a broom in his hand which, shortly after, he passed to you. "Take it." he murmured, unable to hide a veil of shame. You hesitated for a moment but then complied, studying the object. “As you know, in Briarcliff I took corporal punishment. I took it often, so often that… something clicked. I had to defend myself, survive. Y/N, I started to like the caning. I hated it, and yet… my body reacted with enthusiasm. Perhaps this..." The more Kit explained, the more you regretted having imposed yourself so confidently. Did he want you to cause him pain? Was that the way to fix the mechanism? "You're scared, I understand. You don't have to, there's a reason I never asked." "It... it's not healthy. I would never want to see you suffer, if I indulge you I contribute to..." you took a breath, left the sentence hanging. You both knew everything that even silence conveyed. "Go to the table and lean on it. Turn around." suddenly, you changed voice in a calm but merciless tone: you were giving brief orders. For a moment, Kit had to store your words but a gasp writhed in his throat and he hurried to comply. "Take down your pants and underwear." you moved barefoot, it was almost impossible to hear. "Moreover." you grabbed onto his jeans and tugged at them, causing your husband to exhale violently through his nostrils. Now, he was staring at you over his shoulder and his eyes were shining pleadingly. He breathed violently and, in a certain sense, you too followed that syncopated rhythm. "Punish me. Punish me for all the times I couldn't get inside you. That I couldn't stay there. Please." you despised that compromise, and yet, the idea of ​​reaching a solution entered your core and made it crackle. You didn't know the practice but you were tired of waiting and Kit looked like he was about to implode, so you passed the broom handle over Kit's buttocks with the delicacy of a Judas kiss. Then, without warning him, you loaded the blow and dealt it to him. While you jumped in fright, he arched up moaning darkly. He seemed absurdly… relieved. With his hands wide open on the wood in search of balance, the man nodded vigorously and you caned him again. This time, his legs trembled and an animalistic cry pierced the daytime heat. Now resting on his elbows, he whispered darkly, "M-more." annihilated by the scenario in front of you, you were the victim of widespread tingling. Your panties had become soaked without you realizing it. It wasn't the violence that excited you but the way Kit reacted to that. "Are you...are you getting wet? You're wet, I can see it from here." yet another blow came unexpectedly, immediately followed by a soothing: "ssssh...". Breathless, with his eyeballs rolling to the ceiling, Kit had to press his cock against the table. The live, pulsating erection was in need of the friction that Kit found in contact with the support that endured his weight. "God, my God, suga', how do you do it... get Sister Jude out of my fuckin' head. Again. Again!" teeth sealed in a roar and fingers scurrying off his tank top as your pussy cried out hungrily. You came closer and touched the reddened flesh and then tightened it in a vice that forced Kit to bark in pain and pleasure. He quickly brought his hand to his length and ran along it with uncontrolled ardor but, victim of yet another beating, he had to go back to holding on to the table.

Now bent at a right angle with one cheek on the surface, he was panting uncontrollably and you were unable to resist the temptation: you grabbed onto his hips and pushed yourself against his ass. “Oh, fuck… fuck, Y/N I’m about to come… ff-…” Kit, in the throes of adrenaline, found the strength to turn around and pounce on you. You both fell to the floor, kissing as if you were going to bite each other off while he dodged the obstructing fabric and entered you without grace.

He filled you with such voracity that an incredulous, breathless laugh left your jaws. Kit was destroyed, distraught, a toxic flame that hit you with its impetuosity. "Yes... yes, my love, yes... do it hard! Strong as my sti-AH!" your husband, firm on his knees, sucked in his lower lip, holding your hips as he slipped out of you to re-enter with even more urgency. "Jesus Christ, Y/N, I have to fill you..." and on the last letter, the thrusts of that brief embrace became frantic, taking both of you by surprise with a stunning orgasm. An expression of disbelief built on Kit's face. His eyelids narrowed and his Adam's apple threatened to tear his throat open as the hot spurts of his seed invaded you as promised. The lips swollen and wide open in a silent cry. Desperate and euphoric. He soon leaned over you, grabbing your breasts as he continued to move and slide into you. You, who didn't remember the sensation and who, entranced by the mere image of Kit, had the impression of going crazy with ecstasy. Coming, clinging to the soft curls of the love of your life, you trembled with such force that it nauseated you. Tightly wrapped around his veiny cock, you had never reached such a climax and neither did he.

[aphetaliamessages]

Weird Ways the Nations Have Died

America: He cracked a uranium rod open with his teeth

They glow in cartoons, so he figured they'd glow in real life too. Who cracks glow sticks with their teeth, though? Dis boy is a neanderthal...

England: Drug overdose... in the middle of sex with France.

France was like "Oh no, did I ride him to death?"

France: Exhaustion from too much sex

For the love of God, don't give England caffeine

Canada: Tony made him do chores in his alien house

Alfie came in like "Tony, stop making Mattie do chores just to watch him!" Both brothers got zapped

Russia: He gave an ostrich a hug

Ostrich: Get the fuck off me bitch I don't know u

China: Someone dared him to pee in a gator pond

Wang lost his wang

Germany: Blue balls

Lethally repressed smh.

🦅 Mod Prussia's Legal Eagle Disclaimer: You can't actually die of blue balls

☕️ Mod England: If you could, I'd be dead

Italy: Dreamed of a spaghetti monster

He fell out of bed and died of head trauma. Told everyone the spaghetti monster killed him

Japan: Tentacle dildo

First attempt at using a brand new tentacle dildo, lost his balance and fell face first into his full-length mirror

Spain: He put a venomous snake in his pocket and it bit his ass

Guess Lovi isn't the only one who wants a piece of that 😮‍💨

Prussia: He stabbed himself to get out of a dentist appointment

Lud just stared at him like "u dramatic bitch." Still made him go

[trailblazethegalaxy]

Falling Asleep ~ *Blade*

Summary: You've been looking for the cure for Blade's insomnia for ages now. It's beginning to impact your sleep schedule as well. And Blade doesn't like you losing sleep over him.

Pairing: Blade X G/N!Reader

Genre: Fluffyish Drabble

Word Count: 906

Warning: N/A

Masterlist

A/N: Part 2 to Can't Sleep. I strongly suggest reading that one first.

You couldn't tell how much time had passed. Was it weeks? Was it months? You weren't sure anymore. You've been working day and night for so very long to try and find a cure for Blade and his insomnia. But nightmares were a hard thing to fix. And nightmares that came from trauma presented a whole new kind of problem.

At first the answer was simple, he just needed to confront his trauma and then he would be able to sleep through the night. But you knew Blade. He wasn't going to deal with the trauma he faced. Because of this, he was stuck in a perpetual loop of bad dreams each and every night. So you decided to focus on a different strategy. Anything to get his mind off of the pain he faced every night.

As you worked and tried new idea after new idea, Blade watched as you slowly succumbed to madness. At first he was bitter. He told you it was impossible to solve his sleepless nights. You were only hurting yourself in the process. He was angry at you for allowing yourself to be dragged under because of his problems. 

His frustration with you slowly melted into worry. It wasn't a strong feeling, but he knew what he felt. He knew he was making your life miserable because he just couldn't get to sleep. He wished there was a magical cure you could find so that you could finally stop worrying about him. He began to find that he couldn't bear to see you in such pain because of him anymore.

"It's not working, doctor." He said when he was called into your office once more. "Nothing has worked."

"Then we'll try something else." Your voice was short and curt.

He shook his head. "No, we won't. We're done. You're done."

This caused you to snap your glare from your research to him. There was a wild fire in your eyes and if he were a mortal man, he would've flinched under its intensity. "We are not done. We will never be done until you fall asleep."

"Doctor, you tried your hardest. But things don't always work out. You need to give up." Blade wasn't very good at being comforting, so he stuck with being terribly honest.

You slammed your notebooks onto the ground. There were dozens of them, all filled with research that you thought would help him get to sleep. Something flickered inside him. Was it hope? Was it pain? Was it compassion? He wasn't sure. All he knew was he felt something he hadn't felt in a very long time stir within him.

With a sigh, you slumped against the counter. "I have been trying for who knows how long. I've studied sleep and dream theory. I've looked into every possible avenue for something to fix this. And I won't give up until I have found your cure. I owe you that much."

"You don't owe me anything." He muttered, an edge of hatred to his voice. "Besides, you're only doing this because you have a problem you can't fix. It's unfortunate I'll be your first basket case, but you need to let it go and get a grip. It's over. We're done. Find a different problem to solve."

He watched your jaw drop and tears well in your eyes. That strange feeling inside him flickered again. You looked so tired and so broken. Your research has really put you through the wringer. And he felt... bad.

"It may have started out that way, but that's not how I feel anymore." You whispered, your voice cracking as the tears began to fall. "You are not a problem in need of fixing. I care about you so much..." Your voice trailed off.

You didn't even need to finish your sentence and Blade understood.

Standing up, he took your hand. "You need to go to bed."

"I- what?" You looked up at him, confusion and exhaustion clouding your eyes.

"C'mon, let's get you to bed." Before you could protest further, he walked you out of your office and up to your upstairs apartment. Upon bringing you to your bedroom, he pulled aside the blanket and gestured for you to get into bed. 

All you could do was nod, as you shucked off your lab coat and kicked off your shoes. When you crawled into bed, he pulled the blanket up to your chin and stared at you for a few seconds.

"Have pleasant dreams, doctor."

As he turned, you called out. "Wait. Stay."

He glanced at you from over his shoulder. "Stay?"

You nod, your eyelids beginning to droop. "Please stay. I want to try another experiment."

"No, you need to sleep-"

"Trust me. I want to try this experiment." You hold out one of your hands while the other pulls aside the blanket. "I want to see if this will work."

Again, from your actions alone, Blade understood. Taking off his own boots and jacket, he climbed into bed with you. Unlike the other times he tried to sleep, this felt different. He felt warm, comfortable, and relaxed. Your arms around him seemed to be helping.

As you rested your cheek to his shoulder, you whispered, "Have pleasant dreams, Blade."

And for the first time in so very, very long, he felt like he would. And when sleep overcame him, he was pleasantly surprised to find that he did.

[errorryx]

I've been falling off the quackity sexyman train despite having made a propaganda post for him, but it's 4am and i'm kind of obsessed with the idea of him winning now. i was fully ready to call it here and maybe i will be again tomorrow but right now. quackity covered in blood, quackity increasingly desperate as everyone he knows falls around him, quackity alone in the world against a bunch of strangers who have all murdered his friends, that kind of melodramatic imagery as well as the 4am insanity that lets me actually think about dream smp lore again in the way it deserves—i don't know, guys, i actually think it would kick the most ass ever if he managed to win.

one of the things that draws me to cquackity the most is his rage. he's always so confident in the righteousness of his anger, in the inherent justice of his cause, and god knows he gets into fights. especially fights he knows he can't win. he gets so caught up in his convictions, and his trauma is so, so clear in everything he does. you can see this in his fierce anger against perceived injustices, in his constant need to prove himself, in his desperation, in his short-sightedness being his own downfall, again and again and again. but he gets back up! he gets back up every fucking time! even at the end, he gets up and he rebuilds because he literally cannot do it any other way. he can make himself into something abhorrent, but he can't give up and die.

i won't campaign against joe hills, who has also thoroughly earned my respect, but i will keep campaigning for quackity, the last member of the dream smp left standing. the only one, in the end, to hold his fucking ground and fight to the bitter end. and he will fight, because there's never been another choice for him.

dear god, i want him to win. i want him to win for every one of his fallen friends, enemies and allies that should have been stronger than him, but fell while he slipped through the cracks into another slim margin of victory. i want him to win for himself, because no matter how awful he is, he's a goddamn masterpiece in his own right. i want him to win for me, because i am fucking insane about him.

and win or lose, i think i am going to write a goddamn fic.

anyway, dsmp people, vote for quackity. he's the final girl we deserve.

[mahi-wayy]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 | 𝑯𝑼𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑳𝒀

• General • Romantic [only sfw]

A/n : not adding my usual nsfw part bcz they are supposed to be technically minors in the show? listen I'll add nsfw if people ask but I ain't having anyone slamming me in comments and asks, I have other stuff to worry about thank you very much.

I - GENERAL

"He is right, dark and brooding but right."

dark and brooding my ass blake you're brother is a fucking softie. he just has trauma but which elder sibling doesn't.

he has been burned too much that he would rather appear dark and intimidating to keep himself but most importantly blake safe and sound.

they were adopted by the bradleys at the ages of 8 and 11 respectively. while blake only spent like two months in his orphanage and didn't even remember much about his biological parents, he spent around two years in the orphanage and he does remember the accident that took away his parents.

he had a whole phase in his teen where he would dream about the accident and blame himself for surviving.

he and blake were at the same orphanage.

gravitated towards each other quite quickly especially because hunter kind of scared away the bullies that were troubling blake and the little boy just attached himself to hunter pretty much ever since.

refused to go with bradleys if they don't take blake too. luckily the couple was more than happy too.

had what? a year of normalcy before their adoptive parents died too. he still remembers a little blake crying endlessly at night because he missed them.

that's when he decided to be like a filter between world and his brother.

sensei omino was a shit parent figure but these two were entirely too grateful for the man to continue reaching them what their parents started to actually notice him using them or pushing them to hard.

he usually took the blame too if blake messed something up because he knew if he was involved too, sensei would focus on him more than yelling at his brother.

it's hard for him to handle and understand emotions. barely cried and takes time to build emotional connects since he has kept himself so shielded since he was a kid.

developed insomnia at a early age.

never lost in a sparring match at the academy, like never.

also the best weirder of crimson thunder in the academy. his color is related with a loud, aggressive and damaging side of the element.

basically he is strong as fuck and some of his hot headedness comes from his element other than his personality.

was the one who believed lothor first under his hurt and anger that never quite found a outlet, which automatically convinced blake of it too.

wasn't really connecting with anyone like blake did with tori unconsciously. he was okay with everything they did until he realized the truth. he still feels guilty about that.

he didn't quite like shane's energy, it was practically the red ranger's authoritative aura clashing with his own leadership role, he did tell blake about it.

eventually got used to it once they became a team and he took his second-in-command position.

he is every short-tempered and certain things trigger him at full force. for example he once short circuited cyber cam for cracking a offensive joke at blake.

it took cam three weeks to fix his cyber counterpart because the crimsion thunder pretty much fried his servers and operators.

"you can't have thunder without lightning." "lightning is always followed by thunder." please and this was your own good DO NOT SEPARATE HIM FROM BLAKE.

if he doesn't know about his brother's whereabouts for more than say 4 hours and the man also isn't responding to his morpher, he might as well flip the city upside down to find him.

very fiercely loyal and protective. once he decides to choose someone as his person he will stand by it until you give him solid prove of wrong doings of that person.

a little morally off course, blake is the moral compass most of the time. doesn't mind doing small bad for greater good and can't forget the whole lothor phase.

doesn't like water all that much either, mostly because of his incapacity to swim in too much water and his electrical element.

please don't leave him in a kitchen unsupervised he will end up burning something if not the whole house- good lord.

has trouble sleeping which makes cam's canon comment on his caffeine intake very real.

he drinks so much coffee and other caffeine stuff he is practically immune to it at this point 😭💀🤚🏻

someone please hug this man I volunteer as tribute

VERY PETTY.

BIG SARCASM.

he has murderous tendencies if poked too much when is clearly not feeling it.

II - ROMANTIC

makes the first move.

very obvious about his liking before the official ask out.

he is very standing next to you by jungkook coded bf.

first thing he does is look for his partner after a race.

not much on pda but would rest a arm around their shoulder and drop a occasional forehead kiss.

is a slow and passionate kisser. his kisses usually end up in heavy make out sessions.

very protective in general but even more for his partner.

makes a effort to learn about his partner's hobby so he can just make a conversation if not take part in it for some reason.

spends most of his free time with them.

always tries his best to make up for anytime his ranger duties take him away from plans or stuff.

sleeps as the big spoon.

----

tags: @junglefurytrash @junglekarmapippa @atomic-bobo @anyavaramyr @chanti-leaving @skyland2703 this taglist is only for power rangers content. so let me know if you wanna be added or removed.

[isa-beenme]

Hello for the ACOTAR bingo, could you do Nightmare with Rhys? I need some comforting fluff right now 😅😅

I wasn't sure who exactly was supposed to be nightmaring

So I chose the most obvious choice: Rhysie boo

It's honestly so sad that SJM robbed us from more scenes of Rhys' trauma healing, like? Girl, he was SAd for 50 YEARS the bare minimum is to give this man a proper therapy cmon

Anyway, there's not much description of his nightmare so I don't think a trigger warning is necessary, but let me know!!

Also, such good song this one, huh?

The Loneliest

You awaken in your room, feeling an unsettling aura in the air, the room seems smaller and the wind seems thicker, you almost can't breathe. A chill runs down your spine, and a wave of unease washes over you. Instinctively, you know something is wrong with Rhysand. His powers, usually well-contained, seem to be slipping through the cracks of your door, and a thick mist shrouds your surroundings, circling you as if they asked for help.

Without hesitation, you follow your heart and trust the feeling you have in your heart. You get up from bed and try to find your way through the deep shadows that filled the corridor. You make it through the foggy path, your determination pushing you forward, guided by an unspoken understanding between you and Rhysand's power. The mist parts as you walk, as if recognizing who you are and your genuine care and affection for him.

Reaching his room, you find Rhysand thrashing on the bed, and instantly you know he is caught up in the grip of the terrible memories of his abuse Under the Mountain with Amarantha. He's been suffering from the terrible nightmares since he came back from that hell, your paths always crossing when you suddenly wake up during the early hours and he was awake trying to find something to sleep in the kitchen. You would do some tea and he would tell you a bit of his dream. 

You never found him while he was still deep in sleep, and the sight before is nothing but terrifying. You know what your High Lord had suffered, and tried to be there for him, even if sometimes, the heart that learned to love him more than what you had planned throbbed inside of your chest in pain as he talked to you.

You gather your courage and gently shake him awake, calling his name softly until his violet eyes meet yours, filled with fear and pain.

-Rhys, it's me. You're safe now. I'm here - You whisper, trying to ground him in the present moment - You're not there anymore. You're with me.

As he slowly comes to, his powers continue to flicker around the room, but you remain steadfast, feeling the trust his power places in you. You sit by his side, soothingly running your fingers through his hair, feeling the silkiness between your fingertips. Your touch seems to calm him, and he clings to you as if you're his lifeline.

-It's okay, my love - You murmur, your voice filled with tenderness on the nickname you never had courage to use, but that seemed to soothe him even more - I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. I said I won't let you face this alone.

Your words are a balm to his tortured soul, and he clings to you tighter, seeking solace in your embrace. He silently makes space for you in the bed, signaling for you to lay down with him. You get on his side and reach to touch his face, holding them with your life as you look deep into those eyes that you used to love so much, but that were filled with sadness and despair now.

-What happened? Do you want to talk? - He looks like he is about to cry, his throat wavering with emotion - You can cry, Rhys. I'll hold you every time you do it.

As if you spin a key in his brain, his eyes filled with tears and he started to blow them out. His chest was hurting from the amount of time he denied himself the right to cry for himself, to mourn the person he was and lost Under the Mountain. 

-What happened, Rhys? - His sobs slowed down to quiet breathing, but his face didn't leave your neck.

-I… I dreamed that it was you - It was all he said before the tears started to pour again. Your heart breaks a little bit more with each sob.

-What do you mean it was me? - You try to soothe him while playing with his hair, the dark onyx locks smelled so good that you couldn't help but take a deep breath, the scent being imprinted on your soul.

-Sometimes I dream that it's one of you instead of me in her claws, and she makes me watch as she tortures you - Your eyes close in pain, you can't even imagine how hard it was for him during all this time protect his family and wake up every day trying to imagine if she found out your secret - But tonight it was only you, and I… I couldn't watch it. I screamed and punched and tried everything I could, but she never stopped. I wanted to die looking at you like that. I was losing a part of me that would never be mine again as you died in her arms.

-I'm here, Rhys. You are here. We are together and I'll never leave your side again, do you hear me? - You pull his head out of your neck and hold him in place, caressing his cheeks as you kiss his forehead, forcing your tears to not leave your eyes - You are the most amazing person I ever met and you did everything you could to protect everyone in your Court, especially your family. And we are here, we are safe. You did it, Rhys. You saved us.

You continue to shower him with affection, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, and his neck, leaving a trail of adoration in your way. Your words flow freely, a confession of love that spills from your heart without hesitation, your necessity of making him feel better makes you not process the words that you were saying.

-You are the bravest person I know, Rhysand. Your strength, your resilience, it leaves me in awe. You have faced unimaginable things and still managed to find light in the world, to find strength for your Court and keep working with and for us everyday. Your kindness, your compassion, your fierce loyalty to those you love. It's what draws me to you, what makes me love you so deeply.

With every word, you see a hint of ease in his eyes, a reminder that he is not alone, that you are there for him, heart and soul. Time seems to blur as you continue to pour your heart out, naming every little thing about him that captivates you - the way his eyes light up when he smiles, the sound of his laughter that brings joy to your heart, the way he stands tall and proud, a protector of his people and his land.

-You are the most beautiful soul I've ever encountered, Rhysand. You deserve all the love and happiness in the world, and I promise to stand by your side, to cherish you and hold you close, no matter what challenges come our way from now on. 

As you speak, you notice the mist around you beginning to dissipate, a sign that Rhysand's powers are regaining control. The storm in his mind starts to settle, and he clings to you with newfound strength.

-I love you so much - He finally whispers, his voice raw with emotion. Your smile is sad, the meaning of his phrase is not the one you wish him to say, or at least that's what you tell yourself, not wanting to give yourself any kind of hope or have weird thoughts during such a delicate time.

-I love you too, with all that I am - You reply, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose - And I will never stop loving you.

The next morning, as the first rays of dawn gently filter through the window, you find yourself waking up in Rhysand's warm embrace. His arms are wrapped securely around you, as if he never wants to let go. You don't even remember the moment you drifted to sleep, and once you realize what happened you try to slip out of bed, but he stirs awake, his eyes finding yours with a soft smile.

-Where do you think you're going? - He playfully asks, his voice laced with affection - You're not getting away from me that easily. You said you were going to be with me every time, and I'll take advantage of it.

He tightens his hold, pulling you back into the cozy cocoon of blankets, and you find yourself giggling at his antics. You settle back into his embrace, relishing the feeling of being so close to him, even if just for a moment, just for one day until he feels better.

-I love waking up next to you - He confesses, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead - I might want this everyday, do you think you can move your things to my room until sleep time or do we need to ask the House? - As if listening to the High Lord, three boxes filled with decorations that adorned your room appear on the floor, making you turn to Rhysand with a shocked face.

-Seriously? - You raise up an eyebrow and he just shrugged, a smile threatening to grow on his lips.

-I want you to know that I appreciate everything you've done for me. You are helping me heal from everything that happened Under the Mountain in a way I never thought possible, in ways you can't even imagine. With you, I feel safe and understood. You see me for who I truly am, and you accept all parts of me, even the broken ones. Maybe you can even fix me - His words warm your heart, and you can't help but feel overwhelmed and hopeful by the depth of his feelings. It's evident that your love and support mean the world to him.

-You don't need to be fixed, Rhys - You assure him gently - You are already whole, and I love every single part of you, scars and all - He smiles gratefully, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back.

-I can't promise that I won't have difficult moments, but I promise to always share them with you - He says suddenly, making you frown a little - You've shown me what it means to truly love and be loved, and I want to share my life with you, every moment, every joy, and every sorrow.

-Are you saying…? - You lose track of thought as his eyes warm up with love to you.

-I meant what I said last night. I love you. And losing you, even if just in dreams, was one of the worst experiences I ever went through - He gets closer to you, his nose almost touching yours - It made me realize that all those years I spent warming up to you was a waste of time. Time I should've spent with you - Your heart swells with love for him, knowing the strength it takes to open up and be vulnerable. You cup his face in your hands, gazing into his eyes with unwavering affection.

-I will wait for you, Rhys. For as long as it takes. Your love is worth every moment of patience. I'll be here to support you, to lift you up when you need it, and to stand by your side for whatever happens. I also meant every word. You are part of my every being and you are already tied to my soul - He leans in, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss, conveying all the emotions he struggles to put into words. As he kisses you a feeling in your chest tightens up, the mating bond making itself recognized between you.

He separates himself from you only to check if you feel the same, the shock in your face is enough for him to laugh and hug you, before kissing you again and sharing his tears of happiness, the feeling shaking the bond that tied you together. 

In the days that follow, your bond with Rhysand grows deeper. You spend time together, from you helping him even more during his work time to cooking with him on nights where the Inner Circle didn't appear in your home, but also creating quiet moments of intimacy where you simply cherish each other's presence from sitting in the balcony to watch Velaris during sleepless nights to reading a book while he played with your hair - or the other way around.

Healing is a journey, and you walk alongside him, hand in hand. With each passing day, Rhysand opens up a little more, revealing his fears and hopes, and you listen with unwavering support. You both find comfort in knowing that you have each other to lean on.

As every night falls, you continue to share a bed, finding solace in the closeness and vulnerability it allows. Together, you create a safe haven where you can both be your true selves, no masks or pretenses needed. In those quiet moments before sleep, as you curl up in each other's arms, you feel the weight of his love, and you know you are exactly where you belong. You have found your home in each other, and the bond you share only grows stronger with time. And so, you wait for him with a heart full of love and patience, knowing that he is worth every moment of the journey. 

[breezybeej]

so Faith huh

Loses her family, loses her watcher, loses everything. moves to Sunnydale, falls in love with Buffy starts making friends again but her past trauma and growing sense of self-defeat cause it to fall apart. She sees the world through the lens of death. Her role as the Slayer is to slay things and so she does, both literally and metaphorically. in this, she gains a father in The Mayor which gives her a sense of fulfillment but the cost is her humanity and she betrays her role as a Slayer (allegedly protecting humanity). and guess what! she fails him and loses him as well. and she doesn't even die about it. She does not get to complete her role as a Slayer and die in battle.

she spends 8 months in a coma experiencing shared prophecy dream space with the person who foiled all of her plans, getting killed by her over and over. she watches her father figure die again. she wakes up from this hell and receives the will of the mayor. The only man we ever saw her look up to tells her that her life is over, everything sucks, you might as well go out with a bang, babe.

so she tries to do that. this crazy plan of swapping bodies with Buffy and upending Buffy's entire life just like her own. Make her lose everything. but even as she tries this she becomes Buffy she sees what it's like to have friends who care about her, a guy who actually loves her beyond the physical, she finds meaning and purpose in the act of slaying, she answers her calling the way she was always meant to.

and then she loses it all again

she becomes actively suicidal and tries to goad Angel into killing her. Instead, he shows her that there is meaning and purpose to be found in repenting for your past crimes. The same way that he's been doing for All of the bad shit that happened without his soul. just like he said to her in season 3, "we are very similar."

This is the same shit happening to Buffy now. she is losing her friends. Xander has a 9 to 5 job and he's getting married so he just won't have time for her anymore. Willow is falling deeper and deeper into this hole of scary magic she might not come back from. Giles doesn't even know if he wants to be in Sunnydale anymore. Buffy is still grappling with how her job as a slayer is an existential threat to her friends. she lost her mom, she almost lost her sister but she died in the line of duty as a Slayer and was rewarded with paradise. however it was taken away from her. she is living in hell now and is a hair's breadth away from being suicidal like faith was because everything is overwhelming and she's failing repeatedly and she has no greater purpose. she can't even go back to college which was her aspiration before all of this happened. she can't even die properly, The one reward for saving the world from demons and all of your burdens being lifted from you as you spend eternity in heaven.

it was already obvious The first time around that faith was always lying when she said she was 5x5. it is so much harder now knowing that she was doing the same thing Buffy is now. lying through her teeth to the people that she supposedly loves just so they won't approach her and get close to her vulnerabilities. and it's causing her to crack under this immense pressure of being alone. she is isolating herself because she thinks she's no good for anybody.

We even have the similarities that the brunette Slayer is working with the brunette vampire to help herself and the blonde Slayer is working with the blonde vampire to help herself. I will be shocked if Spike is not the one person who's able to prevent her from going over the edge this season. I mean it's almost obvious because she's isolated herself from everyone else and no one knows how bad it is because she will not let them in.

I already know it's too much to hope that there's any mention of faith in this season. just as much as faith became Buffy when she was open to the Scoobies and Riley and a fulfilling slayer role, Buffy is becoming faith as she pushes those things away. she even brutalized a demon she had already killed in her basement the way Faith did in one of the early times we saw her slay something.

Whateva. It's fine. I'm fine about it. none of this matters because The Three musketeers of dork ass nerds Make me so mad that I can't think straight so I have to get these ideas out before I watch any more of the show.

[chokememaximoff]

You can't hide from the shadows part II

g!p Natasha Romanoff x Reader series

Abstract:In "You Can't Hide from the Shadows," join Y/N on a thrilling journey as she finds herself ensnared in a dangerous game of survival, hunted by a relentless foe. When Natasha Romanoff, the enigmatic Black Widow, enters her life, Y/N's world is turned upside down, leading to an unexpected and intense love affair amidst the shadows. Together, they must navigate a treacherous path of love, danger, and self-discovery, all while attempting to escape the ever-encroaching darkness that threatens to consume them both.

TW: violence, including physical altercations, injuries, and gun violence, along with depictions of abuse, torture, kidnapping, and captivity, explicit sexual content, mentions of mental health issues, pregnancy and childbirth, and strong language and mature themes.

Desperation clawed at Y/N's heart as she tried to push Natasha away, her sobs of anguish only met with a hard, cruel slap across her face. The impact sent shockwaves through her, her cheek stinging as tears streamed down her dirt-streaked face. She sobbed, her voice trembling as she begged Natasha to let her go.

"Please... please, just let me go," Y/N's voice cracked, her words a desperate plea.

Natasha's sadistic grin only widened, a chilling display of pleasure at Y/N's suffering. With a sinister glint in her eyes, she leaned down, her free hand tracing a path over Y/N's body. The touch was violating, a reminder of her vulnerability that left Y/N feeling dirty and exposed.

Y/N's breath hitched as the reality of her situation settled over her. She wasn't going to escape this torment, and Natasha's intentions were becoming painfully clear. Her pleas grew more desperate as she begged Natasha to release her from the trap, promising to do anything, anything at all, if only Natasha would spare her.

"Please, I'll do anything you want," Y/N's voice trembled as she begged, tears streaming down her face. "Just let me go, please."

But Natasha's grip on Y/N tightened, her fingers closing around Y/N's throat with a threatening pressure. The threat in her eyes was palpable as she spoke, her voice a dangerous whisper. "Are you sure about that? Because if you lie to me, I'm going to make you hurt in ways you wouldn't even dream of."

Y/N's eyes widened in terror, her heart pounding in her chest. She nodded frantically, her voice trembling as she managed to gasp out, "I'm sure, Daddy."

The grip on her throat released, and Y/N gasped for air, her chest heaving as she struggled to regain her breath. But there was no reprieve, no respite from the darkness that surrounded her. Natasha swiftly moved, her hands deftly cuffing Y/N's wrists before dismantling the cruel trap that held her captive. She wrapped a piece of clothing around Y/N's bleeding ankle, applying pressure to stem the bleeding.

As Natasha lifted Y/N into her arms, a wave of dizziness washed over her, her vision swimming in and out of focus. She was acutely aware of her own vulnerability, her body limp and weak in Natasha's grasp. Every step seemed to blur into the next, the pain and exhaustion a constant companion as Natasha carried her through the forest.

The cabin emerged from the darkness like a sanctuary, a place of respite from the horrors of the night. Natasha set Y/N down gently, the sound of Y/N's ragged breathing filling the silence. Y/N's consciousness teetered on the edge, slipping in and out of awareness.

Natasha's voice was a distant murmur as she spoke, her words a mixture of authority and something else that Y/N couldn't quite comprehend. "You're going to be alright, kotenok," Natasha's voice held a strange mix of tenderness and detachment. "Just stay with me a little longer."

And then, in a swirl of darkness and pain, Y/N succumbed to the oblivion of unconsciousness, her body and mind finally giving in to the overwhelming trauma of the night.

In the shadows of the cabin, the dance of darkness continued, a twisted waltz of pain and desire that bound Y/N to Natasha in ways she couldn't yet fathom. As Y/N's world spiraled into darkness, the question of what awaited her in the clutches of the enigmatic Natasha Romanoff remained an unanswered riddle, a puzzle to be unraveled in the depths of her fractured psyche.

With Y/N's unconscious form before her, Natasha's expression shifted from sadistic satisfaction to a somber determination. As the night settled around them, she moved swiftly, retrieving her bag from its hidden spot. Her fingers worked with precision, tending to Y/N's injuries with a care that seemed incongruous with the darkness that had preceded it.

The cold night air was a sharp contrast to Natasha's gentle touch as she cleaned and dressed Y/N's wounds. Her eyes, usually sharp and calculating, held a touch of concern as she worked, her fingers deftly moving to minimize Y/N's pain. She bandaged the wound on Y/N's ankle, her touch surprisingly tender despite the harsh circumstances.

Natasha's gaze then turned to Y/N's broken hand, her expression shifting into a more focused determination. Carefully, she fashioned a makeshift brace, her fingers steady as she manipulated the bone back into place. Y/N's unconscious reaction was an involuntary grunt of pain, a testament to the agony even in her sleep. Natasha's jaw tightened as she worked, her hands deftly securing the brace in place.

Once Y/N's wounds were tended to, Natasha secured her to the bed with restraints, a precaution to ensure Y/N wouldn't attempt to flee in her weakened state. It was a decision born out of a strange mix of concern and a desire to maintain control.

Leaving Y/N's side for a moment, Natasha slipped out of the cabin, her steps silent as she moved through the darkness. The moon cast a silvery glow over the landscape, illuminating her path as she ventured into the woods to gather firewood. It was a practical task, a means to provide warmth and sustenance, yet it also served as a momentary reprieve from the tension that had enveloped them.

Natasha returned to the cabin with an armful of firewood, the sound of her footsteps mingling with the crackling of leaves and twigs beneath her boots. She set to work, building a fire that cast a warm and flickering light across the room. The flames danced in the hearth, their warmth chasing away the chill that had settled into the cabin.

With the fire burning brightly, Natasha turned her attention to preparing food. Her movements were efficient, her hands moving with a practiced grace as she assembled a simple meal. It was an odd contrast – the same hands that had inflicted pain now worked to provide comfort.

As she cooked, Natasha's gaze occasionally flicked to Y/N's form on the bed. The girl was vulnerable in slumber, her defenses lowered, her features softened by rest. Natasha's thoughts were a maelstrom of conflicting emotions – the desire to possess, the yearning for control, and an inexplicable pull towards tenderness.

Once the food was ready, Natasha set a simple meal on a plate and placed it on a small table near the bed. Satisfied with her efforts, she moved closer to Y/N, her gaze lingering on the sleeping figure. The darkness seemed to cast a veil over the cabin, concealing both their pasts and their uncertain futures.

In this intimate moment, Natasha's emotions were a labyrinth of shadows, her actions driven by a strange sense of responsibility. As she watched Y/N sleep, her mind replayed the events that had led them here, the tangled web of obsession and pain that had brought them together.

In the stillness of the cabin, Natasha's thoughts were a reflection of the complexities that defined their connection. The fire crackled, casting flickering shadows across the room, a reminder of the delicate dance that they were engaged in – a dance that seemed destined to continue, even as the boundaries between captor and captive blurred in the depths of the night.

---

As consciousness slowly returned to Y/N, panic surged through her veins, her body tensing in a desperate attempt to escape her surroundings. The pain that followed was excruciating, a harsh reminder of her vulnerability. She whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as she fought to scramble away from Natasha's presence.

But her movements were met with a searing agony, the wounds and injuries protesting any attempt at escape. Y/N's body trembled as she lay back down, her chest heaving with exertion and pain. She shot Natasha a fearful glance, her eyes wide with a mixture of terror and distrust.

Natasha's lips curled into a smug smile as she observed Y/N's struggle. "Such a good girl, staying put," she purred, her voice laced with a twisted sense of satisfaction.

Y/N's heart raced in her chest, her fear now mingled with a growing confusion. The way Natasha's tone shifted from sadistic to almost gentle was disorienting, an unsettling reminder of the enigma that was Natasha Romanoff.

With a roll of her eyes, Natasha continued, her words dripping with impatience. "You're going to have to get used to it eventually, you know."

In Y/N's exhausted and pained state, Natasha's words seemed like a distant echo. She barely had the strength to offer any resistance as Natasha picked up a bowl of food and spoon. The aroma of the vegetarian meal wafted through the air, mingling with the fire's warmth. But Y/N's apprehension was palpable as Natasha approached, spoon in hand.

"No, I'm not eating anything you give me," Y/N's voice was a whisper of defiance, her mouth clamped shut in a show of resistance.

Natasha's patience wavered, her expression hardening as she spoke with a mixture of annoyance and exasperation. "I already told you, I didn't plan on killing you. The food isn't poisoned, and it's vegetarian – just the way I know you eat. So stop being a little brat and eat."

With a reluctant sigh, Y/N finally allowed Natasha to feed her. The taste of the food was foreign, but hunger gnawed at her stomach, pushing her to relent. Spoonful by spoonful, Natasha fed her, their interactions a blend of tension and reluctant acceptance.

Once the meal was finished, Natasha produced a small pill. She offered it to Y/N with a stern look. "Antibiotic. Take it so your wounds don't get infected."

Y/N's fingers trembled as she accepted the pill, mumbling a small, reluctant thank you. Natasha's grin in response was unsettling, a reminder of the power dynamic that had shifted between them.

Exhaustion soon claimed Y/N once more, pulling her into a fitful sleep. As she drifted into unconsciousness, Natasha's touch against her cheek was a haunting presence, a mixture of comfort and discomfort. Y/N's mind swirled with confusion and weariness, her thoughts a tumultuous sea.

Natasha lay down beside her, her touch lingering as Y/N's breathing evened out. The darkness wrapped around them like a shroud, a testament to the shadows that now bound them together. As the night unfolded, the lines between captor and captive blurred further, their fates entwined in ways neither of them could fully comprehend.

As the night unfolded, the cabin remained shrouded in darkness, its occupants suspended in the fragile balance between captor and captive. But in the deep recesses of the night, the quiet rhythm of sleep was shattered by the merciless grip of a fever that tightened around Y/N's fragile form.

Natasha's eyes fluttered open, her senses immediately alert as her gaze fell upon Y/N's trembling figure. The girl was drenched in sweat, her body shaking with the force of her labored breathing. Natasha cursed under her breath, her concern and frustration warring within her.

With a swift movement, Natasha rose from her place and retrieved a small vial of medicine from her bag. She approached Y/N's bedside, her touch gentle as she reached out to touch Y/N's forehead. The searing heat that met her fingers was alarming, a clear indicator of the fever's intensity.

"Wake up, Y/N," Natasha's voice was firm as she gently shook the girl's shoulder. Y/N's eyes fluttered open, her gaze hazy and unfocused. She mumbled a soft, "Hey, Tasha," her words carrying the slurred quality of delirium.

Natasha's lips quirked into a half-smile, a mixture of bemusement and concern. Y/N's fever-induced ramblings were a stark reminder of her vulnerability, a vulnerability that Natasha was reluctantly beginning to care for.

"You're sick," Natasha's tone was matter-of-fact as she held out the vial of medicine. "Take this. It'll help."

Y/N's gaze flickered to the vial, confusion evident in her fevered eyes. She blinked slowly, her dazed mind struggling to grasp Natasha's words. But the girl managed a hazy nod, her fingers trembling as she took the medicine from Natasha's hand.

As Y/N swallowed the medicine, Natasha's mind raced, her instincts taking over. She knew she needed to lower Y/N's fever before it spiraled out of control. A plan formed in her mind as she rose from the bed, her gaze locking onto the small bathroom adjacent to the cabin.

In moments, Natasha had the water heater stoked with firewood, the sound of crackling flames filling the bathroom. Returning to Y/N's side, she cupped the girl's cheek gently, her touch coaxing Y/N into a semblance of awareness.

"Y/N, listen to me," Natasha's voice was soothing, a stark contrast to the tension that usually colored their interactions. "I'm going to free you from the restraints so we can get you cleaned up and cooled down. Can you cooperate?"

Y/N's response was a soft, incoherent mumble, her eyes half-lidded as she gazed at Natasha. But Natasha interpreted it as agreement and swiftly released the restraints, careful not to cause any further harm.

With Y/N's unsteady form supported by Natasha's gentle touch, they made their way to the bathroom. Natasha helped Y/N out of her dirty and sweat-soaked clothes, a process that elicited an unexpected giggle from the delirious girl.

Raising an eyebrow in confusion, Natasha paused. "What's so funny?"

Y/N's words were slurred, her voice tinged with a hazy amusement. "I know what you want... take whatever you want. You can't do anything bad to me that wasn't already done."

Natasha's heart clenched at the weight of Y/N's words. It was a stark reminder of the pain that had shaped the girl's existence, a pain that Natasha herself had unwittingly contributed to. She hesitated in removing Y/N's clothes, uncertainty clouding her features.

Y/N's voice, though weak and distant, held a hint of clarity. "Natasha, do what you please."

Natasha's sigh was heavy with emotion as she resumed her task, stripping Y/N's soiled clothes away. She swallowed the lump in her throat, her fingers gentle as she helped Y/N into the warm shower. The water cascaded over Y/N's fevered form, steam rising around them as Natasha used a cloth to gently cleanse the girl's skin.

Once the shower was done, Natasha retrieved a set of clean, warm clothes from Y/N's closet. With tender care, she helped Y/N dress, her movements slow and deliberate. Y/N's vulnerability was palpable, her fevered state a stark reminder of the fragility that existed within them both.

As Natasha tucked Y/N into bed once more, she couldn't help but linger for a moment, her fingers brushing against Y/N's damp forehead. The fevered heat seemed to burn beneath her touch, a physical representation of the turmoil that had brought them to this point.

The darkness outside seemed to mirror the depths of Natasha's emotions. The night held them captive, their paths intertwined in ways that defied easy explanation.

With Y/N finally settled back in bed, Natasha's attention turned to the girl's wounded ankle. The night was still and heavy with the weight of their circumstances as Natasha carefully redressed the wound, her fingers moving with a deft precision that belied the turmoil within her.

As she finished tending to Y/N's wound, Natasha's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The girl's vulnerability had become a stark reality, one that Natasha couldn't ignore. Contemplation pulled at her thoughts as she considered whether to restrain Y/N once again, a struggle between control and an unexpected urge to provide comfort.

But her thoughts were interrupted by a feeble tug on her shirt. Natasha's gaze snapped to Y/N, her expression softening as she registered the girl's actions. Y/N's fevered eyes met Natasha's, a plea hidden within their depths. Natasha's resolve wavered as Y/N's grip on her shirt tightened, the girl's intent clear.

With a resigned sigh, Natasha acquiesced, her hesitation giving way to an unexpected tenderness. She lowered herself onto the bed, her arm encircling Y/N's trembling form. She pulled the girl close, her body a source of warmth in the cold night.

Y/N's delirious mumbling filled the air, her words a disjointed stream of consciousness that echoed the fever's influence on her mind. Natasha listened, her gaze fixed on Y/N's flushed features. The vulnerability displayed now was a far cry from the resistance and defiance that had characterized their interactions.

"What are you saying?" Natasha's voice was soft, a gentle inquiry as she leaned closer.

Y/N's response was hazy, her words carrying the weight of her fevered thoughts. "Would have just been easier for you to kill me instead of taking care of me, don't you think?"

Natasha's heart clenched at the rawness of Y/N's words. The truth they held was a bitter reminder of the pain that had brought them to this point, a pain that Natasha had unwittingly become a part of. She opened her mouth to respond, to reassure Y/N that she had no intention of causing further harm, but before she could speak, the girl slipped into sleep once more.

As Y/N's breathing steadied and her body relaxed against Natasha's, the assassin's gaze remained fixed on the girl. The night enveloped them in its quiet embrace, the cabin a sanctuary of shadows and whispered emotions.

Natasha's fingers brushed gently against Y/N's damp hair, a silent gesture of comfort. The complexity of their connection defied easy definition, their roles constantly shifting and evolving. In the stillness of the night, Natasha's thoughts were a tapestry of uncertainty and longing.

As Y/N slumbered, her fevered dreams taking her into uncharted territories, Natasha held her close. The girl's vulnerability was a reminder of the fragile bonds that had begun to form between them, bonds that Natasha was determined to nurture, even in the face of the darkness that had brought them together.

The morning light filtered into the cabin, casting a soft glow across the room as the night's darkness retreated. Natasha's eyes flickered open as she heard shuffling sounds, her senses instantly alert. She watched as Y/N struggled to get out of bed, her weak state evident in every hesitant movement.

Natasha's voice carried a dangerous edge as she spoke, her words a mix of concern and command. "Where do you think you're going?"

Y/N's gaze met Natasha's, flinching slightly at the tone in her voice. Her response was a shaky, "I'm not running away, if that's what you're thinking. I can't even if I tried. I just need to go to the bathroom, but I can't."

Natasha's initial stern demeanor softened as she watched Y/N's struggle. With a sigh, she pushed aside her reluctance and got out of bed. "Fine, I'll help."

Y/N's stubbornness was evident in her refusal, but Natasha's tone left little room for argument. She assisted Y/N to the bathroom, her grip gentle but firm. The journey was slow, every step a testament to the toll the fever had taken on Y/N's body.

As Natasha waited outside the bathroom, her thoughts were a jumble of conflicting emotions. The fragility of their situation was apparent, the roles they had been thrust into shifting with each passing moment.

When Y/N emerged from the bathroom, Natasha was there to support her, guiding her back to the bed. She administered more medicine, her fingers deftly holding out the vial. Y/N shivered, her weakened body trembling in the wake of the fever.

Natasha's jacket, once a symbol of her unyielding presence, now held a different purpose. She draped it over Y/N's trembling form, a makeshift barrier against the chill that lingered in the morning air. Y/N mumbled a quiet thank you, her gratitude mingling with the remnants of her fever-induced haze.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Natasha's lips in response. It was a rare display of tenderness, a fleeting moment that spoke volumes without words. As she turned her attention to the task at hand, retrieving a plate of food for Y/N, her thoughts remained tangled in the complexity of their circumstances.

Y/N's appetite seemed insatiable as she hastily devoured the food. The remnants of the night's fever still clung to her, her pale features a stark contrast against the warm morning light. Natasha watched in silence, her gaze unwavering.

In this fragile moment, the cabin seemed to hold its breath, the quiet exchange between captor and captive a reflection of the tangled web that had woven itself around them. Natasha's actions were driven by a strange mix of responsibility and a growing attachment, while Y/N's acceptance of Natasha's care was a reluctant admission of vulnerability.

As the morning sun continued its ascent, their paths remained entwined, bound by the circumstances that had brought them to this point. The darkness of the night had given way to the light of day, but the shadows of their pasts still lingered, casting a veil over the uncertain future that lay ahead.